When the ANC prepared to contest the 2014 national elections, its then president, Jacob Zuma, announced that the party intended to focus on land reform by first accelerating the settlement of land claims submitted before 1998 and then reopening the lodgement window to enable those who had somehow missed the 1998 cut-off date to submit their claims for five years.
After 1994 it had committed itself to a target of getting 30% of land back to black citizens through the restitution programme. The 1998 process was created to allow affected citizens to lodge claims for land they lost during apartheid, with the understanding that if their claims were valid, restitution in some form would apply.
Tragically, the 80,000 claims that were lodged during the period became entangled in a web of chaos and mismanagement, causing many to remain unprocessed by end-2013. In addition, those that had been processed included a mixed model of resettlement and compensation, which made it impossible to work out the progress made in 1998-2013. What was universally accepted was that the process had not resulted in 30% of land being transferred.
An ANC that had never had to consult beyond itself couldn’t unilaterally press on with its agenda.
Yet, the ANC decided to reopen the claims window. Coming ahead of the general election, the decision attracted scepticism not just from political role players, but also from claimants still waiting for feedback. To ensure that the process was substantively completed before the elections, the ANC embarked on a public consultation and parliamentary approval that was so convoluted and truncated it ignored all substantive contributions that did not sound like an endorsement of the grand plan. When the process was completed it was left to the disaffected communities to approach the courts and have the process invalidated on the basis that there was insufficient public consultation.
The reason the ANC could pull it off is that it controlled the majority of seats in parliament and the National Council of Provinces (NCOP). This meant it operated in an open corridor on lawmaking, in which its cabinet members could conceptualise a bill, table it in parliament to be synthesised by parliamentary and ad hoc committees dominated and chaired by its people; and then have it ratified by an NCOP it controlled. The country could be laden with poorly conceptualised policies and laws as long as the ANC wanted them.
In 2024, the loss of that dominance closed the open corridor and meant proposals would no longer be guaranteed an unchallenged rite of passage. In 2025 the epic war regarding a proposed VAT increase illustrated the implications of the change. An ANC that had never had to consult beyond itself couldn’t unilaterally press on with its agenda. For supporters of robust, inclusive public consultation processes, this was welcomed. While the processing of new proposals is likely to be equally robust in future, it is the bills the ANC passed into law before the 2024 elections that are different.
The National Health Insurance Act, which attracted similar scorn from opposition parties and sector stakeholders when it was passed on the eve of the most recent election, is now being challenged in court based on its consultation process being regarded as a sham by key stakeholders, such as the Board of Healthcare Funders. Central to the case is the question whether the legislators applied themselves to the effect and consequences of the bill, or simply rushed ahead to meet political goals.
The answer to that question will affect public policymaking in a way that is as seismic as the electoral outcome of 2024 — and society will be better off knowing either way.
• Sithole is an accountant, academic and activist.
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.