After Mandela: The Battle for the Soul of South Africa
By Alec Russell
Hutchinson £18.99; 336 pages
FT Bookshop price: £15.19

Sold in the US as Bring Me My Machine Gun: The Battle for the Soul of South Africa, from Mandela to Zuma (PublicAffairs)

South Africa’s transformation from 20th-century pariah into feelgood nation seemed like a miracle: Mandela’s magic acted like fairy dust to turn racial division into rainbow togetherness overnight. But even in those first euphoric moments, it was apparent that it would take time to address apartheid’s inequalities. What was less apparent was how well Mandela’s African National Congress (ANC) would manage the transition from liberation movement to government, especially after the man himself stood down.

Now, on the eve of South Africa’s fourth democratic election – and with a new president poised to take office – the FT’s world news editor, Alec Russell, has produced an analysis of the political and economic story thus far.

His conclusions are hardly feelgood. But After Mandela, layered with anecdote, historical background and close scrutiny of recent events, stands as an informative, nuanced, and provocative end-of-era report.

Liberation movements, Russell writes, have a habit of ageing disgracefully. In other countries, and particularly in sub-Saharan Africa, they have foundered under the weight of unmet expectations. What interests Russell is whether the ANC, South Africa’s only plausible party of power for the foreseeable future, can avoid such a fate. The country, he writes, faces its “second struggle.” Are its present difficulties, he asks, signs of the dream deferred? Derailed? Betrayed? Or is South Africa still a dream in the making?

To understand what “the dream” had to wrestle with, Russell provides a cogent snapshot of a country that, in 1994, was riven by racial inequality and close to bankrupt. He describes the extraordinary tolerance and patience of much of the black population, and the difficulties that the white population had in changing their behaviour and attitudes. This being South Africa, he also inevitably writes about violence and about the sheer ineptitude of the police force – this despite the estimates that South Africa allocates three times as much per capita on criminal justice as the international average. Russell writes of the ANC’s mixed record in delivering basic services, but also gives credit where it is due. And above all, he writes of two men: Thabo Mbeki and his successor, Jacob Zuma.

The picture of Mbeki that emerges is that of an awkward, pipe-smoking philosopher king. Russell knows his man well: in one enlightening passage he quotes from a Latin-referenced e-mail that Mbeki sent him as riposte to supposedly inaccurate reporting. He pays particular attention to Mbeki’s blind spots – his peculiar and destructive stance on HIV and Aids, and his ongoing inaction on Zimbabwe – two factors that ruined his standing and his reputation.

While the intellectual Mbeki comes from one of South Africa’s political dynasties, Jacob Zuma, the “100-per-cent Zulu Boy” as some of his supporters call him, is the son of a domestic worker and a rural policeman whose literacy partly dates from his incarceration on Robben Island, off the coast of Cape Town. While Mbeki shies from contact, Zuma is the all-singing, all-dancing genial politician, his steely fist hidden by his velvet glove. In glorious descriptions of Zuma’s birthday party and scenes outside the court where Zuma was acquitted of rape, Russell deftly conjures up the flavour of the man – but also the toxic undercurrents of Zulu nationalism, and the bellicosity and macho pride exhibited by Zuma’s support base.

What Russell hopes for South Africa is that Zuma, once in power, might turn out to be its Ronald Reagan – making the country feel good while leaving the business of governing to its technocrats. This, however, raises a question. Russell rightly concludes that Zuma’s triumph over Mbeki in the 2007 contest for presidency of the ANC (a separate position from president of the country) was “the most concrete sign since the ANC took power that its leadership would be held accountable by its members”. Having said this, Russell suggests that what South Africa really needs is for a new leader (neither Mbeki nor Zuma) to step forward and wrench the ANC out of its morass.

Perhaps this is some of what South Africa needs. And yet, in describing how the ANC cabinet was too intimidated by Mbeki’s wrong-headed “expertise” on HIV and too craven to resist his foolishness, Russell is also pointing to a problem within the ANC: the reluctance of its membership, including the top ranks, to question and challenge its leadership. If, as Russell convincingly argues, the ANC’s biggest problem is delivery, then does this not suggest that the politicians need to be more effective in creating a climate in which the technocrats are forced to act?

Although Russell would agree that the ANC was always more than one man, even when Mandela was at its head, his emphasis is on the leader rather than the organisation. Surely what is needed, however, is a more effective grassroots action to safeguard the constitution and to argue on behalf of all the people of South Africa and not just for the rising middle class.

The middle class does feature large in Russell’s analysis of Mbeki’s achievements. Mbeki is presented by Russell as a man with an “innate resentment towards the west”. However, this presumed stance did not, as Russell himself cogently details, stop Mbeki and his finance minister, Trevor Manuel, from following western rules of financial probity and economic management. Their policy stood or fell on their ability to create a black middle class. Russell, despite his persuasive argument about the flaws in the black empowerment programmes, whole-heartedly endorses this emphasis on the middle class and on following western-approved models. And he is right in the sense that South Africa in 1994 seemed to have no other choice but to play by western rules. But now, given the present global financial meltdown, it might well be asked if placing such emphasis on the market is the only possible route for a developing country.

After Mandela is a valuable contribution to the debate about the future of the rainbow nation. Alec Russell has looked at the country with a sympathetic and knowledgeable eye and he leaves his reader with a deep understanding of the challenges to come.

Gillian Slovo’s latest novel is ‘Black Orchids’ (Virago)