“Supernanny” star Jo Frost pleaded for community support after detailing her plight with anaphylaxis. 

Anaphylaxis is a severe, potentially life-threatening allergic reaction which can occur within seconds to minutes of exposure to an allergen, according to the Mayo Clinic. Anaphylaxis causes the immune system to release a flood of chemicals that can cause you to go into shock – blood pressure drops suddenly and the airways narrow, blocking breathing.

Triggers vary, but more commonly include foods, medications, insect venom and latex.

Frost admitted in a social media post that she’s survived countless anaphylactic shocks, some of which required hospitalization. 

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“I’ve survived more anaphylactic shocks than I’m prepared to go into detail about right now,” Frost said on Instagram.

“I have anaphylaxis, a life-threatening medical condition to certain foods that will compromise my body so horrifically, to the point of hospitalization.”

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The former reality television star noted that millions of people around the world, including both children and adults, “live cautiously and anxiously navigating this journey with not nearly enough compassion, education and empathy from those who do not.”

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“If you ignore the severity of this medical condition, it’s as bad as shoving a loaded gun in my face,” Frost said. “I’m unapologetic for my medical condition. I did not ask for it and it does not define who I am and the impact that I make in the world daily, but it does impact how I live my life daily, like the precautions I take, the energy I have to use to discern with hypervigilance.”

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“It means your ‘it may contain’ labels are a consistent truth that you dodge accountability legally and put your greed before my safety,” Frost continued. “It means that your ‘inclusion’ of health and safety standards doesn’t apply to me, just non-anaphylaxis people out there.”

She also spoke on behalf of those who suffer from celiac disease, because “we are all not-faddy eaters.” 

“I’m not looking to be treated special; I’m looking to be treated with the same dignity and attentiveness as you just showed others,” Frost said. “I don’t need your mumbling insults, your passive-aggressive comments or your ignorance, just your need to be willing to learn, educate your staff, change your policies, menus, workspaces, school training, event spaces for all to champion children who are all ours really in this world, and show empathy and understanding to each other.” 

Frost encouraged her followers to “get curious” and learn more about anaphylaxis, because “really, as mentioned before, we all know someone.” 

The television personality found fame in 2005 for her role as the “Supernanny,” a series which focused on her strict approach to helping families with new parenting techniques. The show ran through 2011.

“Ultimate disruptor” was how Forbes Africa dubbed Covid-19 in June 2020 for its sweeping impact across global business and society. Yet, for South Africa, a far more threatening  disruptor has long been tightening its grip: corruption.

Corruption is once again under the spotlight. This time it’s for allegations made by Lieutenant General Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi, the KwaZulu-Natal police commissioner, against senior members of the South African Police Service (SAPS), including Minister of Police Senzo Mchunu.  

The endemic corruption “virus” has ceased to operate in the shadows. It is visible, active and strangling our nation’s future. As revealed in great detail in the state capture reports at the Zondo commission, corruption has morphed into multiple guises and its insidious tentacles have penetrated every layer of our society. From tax evasion, fraud, bribery, nepotism, misuse of government funds, maladministration,  extortion and the recent allegations against the upper echelons of the police service, corruption’s destructive reach undermines South Africa’s political, financial and societal sustainability.

Each rigged contract, sold degree qualification and policy that is manipulated for personal gain, does not  merely siphon funds, it chips away at society’s moral fibre, erodes human dignity, hinders economic growth and, more critically, puts lives at risk. And it is the most vulnerable, those already burdened by poverty and poor service delivery, who suffer the most.

Worse still, corruption has become normalised. Wrapped in phrases like “our turn to eat” and “we didn’t join the [freedom] struggle to be poor”, it cultivates a false sense of entitlement and impunity. This embeds criminality into the social and institutional fabric of our society. As communities, particularly the youth, watch unpunished looting unfold, faith in leadership and public institutions collapse and moral decay spreads.

The cost of corruption

Although difficult to quantify, corruption undoubtedly places a huge burden on the country, financially, institutionally and socially. Financially, the damage is staggering. In the World Bank’s 2023 report, Safety First: The Economic Cost of Crime in South  Africa, senior economist Bénédicte Baduel showed how crime was shaving about 10% from South Africa’s GDP. She estimates the loss to our economy at R700 billion a year. Coupled with South Africa’s placement on the Financial Action Task Force’s “grey list”, the message is clear: South Africa must manage economic crime more effectively.

Institutionally, government structures buckle under the weight of corruption. State-owned enterprises such as SAA and the Passenger Rail Agency of South Africa (Prasa) basically collapsed.  “Ghost” government employees siphon off millions of rands, and extortion mafias sabotage infrastructure projects, demand protection fees and exploit public works for personal enrichment. As budgets are drained, service delivery deteriorates, leaving people without reliable services.

Socially, the consequences are equally dire. Corruption betrays the democratic ideals for which so many of our political leaders fought and died for. These values should define who we are as a nation because they are enshrined in our Constitution and Bill of Rights. But, when political leaders and public officials abuse their roles for personal enrichment, not only do they mock the values that underpin our democracy, they also signal to our society that greed trumps integrity. Hence, hard work becomes devalued, ethical leadership is undermined and the seeds of cynicism, apathy and deviousness are sown. 

Where corruption is rife, fear, trauma, low productivity and institutional collapse are common. These  make up the toxic mix that become the push factors for skills migration, and loss of investor confidence. 

From criminal crisis to moral collapse

The tightening grip of corruption on our society is no longer just a criminal crisis, it is a moral and sustainability catastrophe. The hollowing out of what were capable state institutions and the dire effect on the economy will rob our youth of a viable future. In addition, it corrodes the ethical foundations of society and it weakens social bonds. Furthermore, when institutions fail and unemployment is on the increase, it breeds hopelessness and fuels a vicious cycle of poverty and despair.

Restoring South Africa’s moral fibre

Despite efforts by successive government administrations to curb corruption through initiatives such as the Mpati and Zondo commissions, most of the perpetrators remain unpunished with no consequence management. In fact, many of those implicated officials still hold public office. And as accountability stalls, corruption mutates, adapts, becomes emboldened and multiplies. 

Uprooting corruption requires more than commissions of inquiry. It needs a two-pronged approach: justice through the  rule of law by strengthening the judicial organs of state and Chapter 9 institutions, and soft power — cultural and paradigm shifts, and personal agency. 

Civil society should embark on an intentional moral regeneration campaign. Families, educators, faith groups and civil society all have a critical role in shaping a generation that values honesty, integrity, service and the common good. A corrupt-free society is not the responsibility of the government alone, it is everyone’s responsibility. The heart of our recovery lies in values-based civic renewal. In addition, whistleblowers should be commended and protected, and more effective systems that govern procurement and financial transactions must be implemented. 

Even though corruption has left deep and indelible wounds in the body politic and economic fabric of our society, it is not invincible but it needs to be tackled with the same zeal that defeated apartheid. Therefore efforts to eradicate it requires inner resolve and commitment to bring about the requisite change. 

We should all collaborate to grow a stronger, ethically driven society. Our society must reignite the values that built our democracy — justice, accountability and ubuntu, so that everyone stands to benefit from a more sustainable future.

We owe it to the future generations to build a legacy of peace, prosperity and harmony. This should be our national calling. A society that works to defeat corruption together, builds hope together.

Rudi Kimmie is an independent higher education and organisation development specialist. He writes in his personal capacity.

From the tiny galaxiids of South Africa to the 2m-long Nile perch, Africa’s extraordinary biodiversity of freshwater fish have evolved to thrive in the various habitats in the geographically, climatically and topographically diverse continent.

They are found in sediment-rich rivers, shallow ponds, the great lakes, caves, canyons, mountain streams and forests. Yet they are often overlooked in global conservation conversations.

This is according to a new report on Africa’s forgotten fish, which WWF Africa released in the lead-up to the Ramsar COP15 — a major United Nations wetlands conference — which gets under way in Zimbabwe from 23 July. There, countries will set the course for safeguarding and restoring vital freshwater ecosystems. 

The report reveals that 26% of Africa’s assessed freshwater fish species are threatened with extinction, but there are large data gaps so the true number is likely to be much higher.

Africa is a global hotspot of freshwater fish diversity, home to more than 3 200 species — more than a quarter of the world’s total freshwater fish. It’s also a “hotspot of risk”, said Eric Oyare, the freshwater lead for WWF Africa. 

“When these fish disappear, we lose much more than species: we lose food security, livelihoods, ecosystem balance, and resilience to floods and droughts. These declines are a red flag for the broader health of Africa’s freshwater ecosystems, which are the very life support systems for people and nature.”

But these lifelines are collapsing under the weight of multiple threats. These include habitat destruction from dams, deforestation, mining and land conversion; pollution from agriculture, urban areas and industry; invasive species and overfishing, including with destructive gear like mosquito nets; and climate change, which alters rainfall patterns, dries out rivers and heats lakes.

Freshwater fish populations are in freefall across the continent. In the Zambezi floodplain, catches of key species have dropped by up to 90%. At the same time, Lake Malawi’s “chambo” tilapia, a staple food and national symbol featured on the Malawian kwacha, has declined by 94%.

When people think of the continent’s biodiversity, few consider Africa’s astonishing diversity of freshwater fish, “yet they have swum through the continent’s communities and cultures for millennia, and are still critical to the daily lives of tens of millions of people — as well as to the overall health of their freshwater ecosystems”, said the report.

Africa’s rivers, lakes and wetlands are home to at least 3 281 freshwater fish species — a

figure that includes Madagascar and “that is almost certainly a significant underestimate”. 

This is because so many species have not yet been described by science and new species are being discovered in Africa every year — 28 during last year alone.

These fish are vital for people and nature, supporting ecosystem functionality and the provision of ecosystem services across the continent, enhancing food security and nutrition for millions. They support countless livelihoods, particularly in vulnerable communities and landlocked countries.

More than three million tonnes of freshwater fish are caught each year on the continent, representing nearly 30% of the reported global freshwater fish catch. This figure, too, “is “definitely a major underestimate”, the report said, again because of a lack of data, especially for small-scale fisheries.

The continent boasts 12 of the top 25 inland fish producing countries in the world, with Uganda coming in highest in sixth place. The annual catch feeds the highest per capita consumption of freshwater fish of any continent in the world and employs more than three million people. 

It plays a central role in the cultures of many indigenous peoples. And some fishes are economically important either as the lure for recreational anglers or as dazzling aquarium fishes.

Weird and wonderful 

The continent’s freshwater fish are much more than just food or economic resources. The report cited how possibly the most famous of Africa’s freshwater fishes are the incredibly diverse cichlids, with at least 1 600 endemic species found in the Great Lakes – Victoria, Tanganyika, and Malawi. 

“These cichlids are one of the most spectacular examples of speciation in the world and provide scientists with a unique opportunity to better understand the drivers of species evolution.”

Livingstone’s cichlid or kalingono from Lake Malawi has developed a unique hunting style; it plays dead to attract other fish to eat it, then it turns the tables by “coming alive” and eating the would-be predator.

There are “so many other weird and wonderful species to discover”, the report said, like Africa’s elephant fishes, which use electrical pulses to communicate with others about sex, size, predators and prey.

The cuckoo catfish gorges itself on the eggs of cichlids in Lake Tanganyika. “Like its famous avian namesake, this fish tries to palm off parental care on an unsuspecting species. The cuckoo catfish does this by creating chaos at spawning time and confusing unsuspecting female cichlids into scooping up its spawn, which the cichlids subsequently brood in their mouths.”

The African tigerfish can leap from the water to catch barn swallows in flight while the African lungfish breathes air and can survive years buried in mud during droughts. The ancient bichirs are often referred to as “living fossils” for their lineage that predates the dinosaurs.

Under-reported, undervalued and under pressure

But despite their dazzling diversity and critical importance, the continent’s freshwater fishes have remained “largely invisible” to decision-makers with the benefits they contribute “hidden and ignored” — and are now facing increasing threats to their survival.

Globally, freshwater species populations are in freefall – crashing 85% since 1970. Nearly a quarter of the world’s freshwater fish species are threatened with extinction. Africa’s freshwater fishes are no exception.

The report noted that of the 3 281 freshwater fish species, 712 are classified as threatened — with 170 listed as critically endangered, 243 listed as endangered and 299 listed as vulnerable.

But the true number is higher because 536 of the continent’s assessed freshwater

fish are classified as data deficient, “which means they are so poorly known that their threat status can’t be assessed”. 

The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species classifies nine freshwater fishes as extinct — three from Morocco, two from Madagascar and one each from Kenya and Tanzania, Rwanda, Tunisia and Lake Malawi. 

“However, the true number is likely to be significantly greater. For example, many species have almost certainly been lost in Lake Victoria alone.”

The report said: “When we tip the scales by drastically reducing freshwater fish populations, we undermine the functioning of freshwater ecosystems — our very life support systems. The decline in freshwater fish populations is the clearest indicator of the damage we have done — and are still doing — to Africa’s rivers, lakes and wetlands. 

“And that collapse of aquatic ecosystems across Africa only exacerbates the continent’s freshwater fish crisis. Freshwater fishes need healthy freshwater ecosystems. And so do we. But we’re losing them both far too fast.”

Spawning protection

The report said that very rarely are the full economic and social values of freshwater fishes and fisheries factored into decisions about hydropower dams, the draining of wetlands and dredging for navigation or sand mining, for example.

“However, there are indications that some decision-makers are finally starting to take the fate of freshwater ecosystems and fishes into account – and that the momentum for action is building.”

African countries signed up to the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework in December 2022, which explicitly includes the commitment to protect 30% of inland waters and restore 30% of degraded inland waters. 

The report said this ambitious agreement paves the way for a new approach to safeguard freshwater biodiversity, highlighted in the country-led Freshwater Challenge. 

Championed by the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Gabon and Zambia, 20 countries on the continent have already joined the challenge — the largest freshwater protection and restoration initiative in history. Meanwhile, 51 countries are members of the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands.

WWF is urging African countries to adopt the Emergency Recovery Plan for Freshwater Biodiversity as a framework for action.  This science-based, practical roadmap has been developed by leading experts to restore the health of freshwater ecosystems and the communities that rely on them.

The plan outlines six urgent actions including letting rivers flow more naturally; improving water quality in freshwater ecosystems; protecting and restoring critical habitats and species; ending unsustainable resource use; preventing and controlling invasive non-native species; safeguarding free-flowing rivers and removing obsolete barriers.

When my father died in September 2023, our family’s grief was hijacked first by bureaucracy, then by betrayal, and now by the court system.

The first part of this story exposed how the Master’s Office in Mahikeng mishandled my father’s estate. It detailed how a will mysteriously surfaced months after a letter of authority had already been issued to his only biological child, my younger brother, without any notice or due process.

We are now nearly a year into our pursuit of justice. Our first court appearance was in March 2024, after we secured the services of a handwriting expert to analyse the mysterious will. The expert’s report confirmed what we feared: the signature didn’t match my father’s. 

We thought we were finally on a path toward truth. We were wrong.

On that first appearance, the case was postponed. The other party, comprising several of my late father’s siblings, wanted time to find their own handwriting expert. Understandable, perhaps. But what followed would be laughable if it weren’t so painful.

The matter was then postponed to September 2024, almost six months later. The date, painfully ironic, falls at about the time of my father’s death.

Their report arrived. It didn’t outright contradict ours, but tried to soften the blow, citing my father’s neurological condition to explain the discrepancies in his signature. They presented medical documents as proof.

Our legal team requested another postponement, this time to February 2025. Why? Because both reports needed to be reviewed and discussed. No progress. No closure. Just waiting.

Then came the real gut punch. In early 2025, the case was postponed again because the matter wasn’t “trial-ready”. Of the six siblings contesting the will, only one had been served. The others? The court’s sheriff couldn’t find them.

So we grieving family members became private investigators. We searched for addresses. We made phone calls. We drove to their homes. 

In the end, we managed to track down most of them, but May 2025 came, and the case still couldn’t be heard. A new date must now be requested. And the process of serving all six must be restarted. Again. 

At this point, we are not just fighting for an estate. We are fighting for the right to be heard.

Ours is not an anomaly. It is a reflection of the civil court system, a system riddled with delays and inefficiencies.

In 2021, the then justice minister, Ronald Lamola, said in parliament that the country faces huge court backlogs, particularly in civil matters, citing staff shortages, ageing infrastructure and high caseloads. But for families like mine, those explanations offer no comfort.

In our case, justice has been postponed five times. Not because of complex legal arguments. Not because of lack of evidence.

Section 34 of the Constitution promises that “everyone has the right to have any dispute … decided in a fair public hearing before a court”. But when cases are delayed indefinitely  sometimes for years that right becomes theoretical. 

In a country where estate fraud is rising and wills can apparently materialise months after burial, these systemic failures embolden the very people who should be investigated.

We have the reports. We have witnesses. We have intent. But the court has yet to even hear our case.

We don’t talk enough about what this does to people.

Every court date is a trigger. Every postponement reopens the wound. You prepare yourself emotionally, mentally, financially. You gather paperwork. You re-live your loss. And then someone says, “Come back next year.”

This is not just about money. It’s about dignity. It’s about the truth. And it’s about what kind of country we want to live in: one where the dead are protected and honoured, or one where silence is bought with time and incompetence.

The delays in our case aren’t just emotional, they’re profitable.

While we’ve endured repeated postponements, judges and lawyers continue to draw full salaries every day the case drags on. Consider the Senzo Meyiwa murder trial: after three long years marred by delays and adjournments, Legal Aid SA said it had already spent R6.5 million on legal fees alone. Civil courts aren’t immune.

The burden falls on families. In our case, one uncle threatened to attach my mother’s R900 000 home to cover R64 000 in legal fees, which was the one time we saw the sheriff work.This was a scare tactic but we refused to back down. Through bribes, witch-doctors, logistical snags and endless formalities, we are determined: justice may be delayed, but it will not be denied.

I am writing this because the system has failed us. But silence would fail us more. We must document this for every South African who has had to sit in silence while justice crawled.

Because the real death isn’t the one we bury, it’s the one the system lets happen slowly, year after year, in courtrooms that never open.

Orateng Lepodise is a writer and communications specialist. She is documenting her personal experience.

Older people face increasing health risks from extreme heat as climate change intensifies, the United Nations Environment Programme (Unep) has warned.

In the latest edition of its Frontiers Report, released this week, it said adults aged 65 and above are becoming an increasingly dominant part of societies worldwide, especially in the cities of low and middle-income countries. 

The report highlights other effects of climate change, including the melting of glaciers that reawaken ancient pathogens and floods that risk releasing dangerous chemicals, as well as potential solutions to these emerging environmental issues.

Older people are highly vulnerable to extreme weather events. Since the 1990s, there is an estimated 85% rise in annual heat-related deaths of older people. Poor air quality arising from extreme weather events also results in subsequent health issues. Similarly, floods affect low-lying coastal cities, which are home to many older persons. 

The global population aged 65 and older is projected to increase from 10% in 2024 to 16% by 2050, primarily in low and middle-income countries, the report notes. Concurrently, climate change is exacerbating risks such as heatwaves, air pollution and floods, which disproportionately threaten older human beings.

The world is also becoming increasingly urbanised, with about 57% of its population now living in cities. By 2050, this figure is expected to rise to 68%. 

“A rising number of cities will therefore soon face the new reality of increasingly ageing urban dwellers. Maintaining good health and vitality is crucial at any age and minimising risk factors for diseases become even more critical as we age,” the report said.

“In addition to the genetic, physiological, behavioural and social influences, environmental conditions play a crucial role, especially in cities that bring together a high concentration of a variety of environmental health risks.”

The risks of respiratory, cardiovascular and metabolic diseases, and the increased risk of mortality, become particularly acute for frail people with reduced mobility and chronic health issues. 

Air pollution and chemical contamination increase the risk of cardiovascular and respiratory diseases, neurodegenerative diseases, dementia, depression and anxiety. Poverty, crowded cities and social isolation also raise the vulnerability of older people. 

The report recommends transforming cities into age-friendly, pollution-free, resilient, accessible spaces with expansive vegetation through better urban planning. 

Investing in weather stations to monitor extreme heat is critical to protect lives while community-based disaster risk management and access to information are key approaches to help aging people adapt successfully to climate change, it said.

The report follows the United Nations Human Rights Council resolution 58/13 to develop an “international legally binding instrument on the human rights of older persons”.

Zombie microbes 

It warns of the “awakening” of ancient microbes in the cryosphere, which makes up half of the Earth’s land surface. 

Should global temperatures rise more than 2˚C above pre-industrial levels, this would significantly reduce the cryosphere in mass, which includes glaciers, seasonal snow, ice sheets and shelves, sea ice, seasonally frozen ground, and permafrost. “In a best-case scenario, it would take centuries for cryosphere conditions to return.” 

The cryosphere is surprisingly rich in ancient life, including fungi, bacteria, and viruses, of which some are pathogens. Much of this life is currently dormant. Warming could reactivate and remobilise modern and ancient microorganisms in cryospheric environments. 

“Some might thrive, modifying existing microbial communities, while some might not survive resulting in a loss of microbial diversity.This can enhance the powers of existing pathogens through natural gene transfers, resulting in heightened risk of antimicrobial resistance,” said the report.

Cryospheric regions are home to 670 million people. This population could rise to 844 million by 2050, spanning the Alps, the Andes, Greenland, Hindu Kush Himalaya, Siberia, and the Tibetan Plateau as well as billions more who live in areas with water originating from those frozen areas.

To slow down the decline of the cryosphere, the report recommends cutting greenhouse gas emissions — including black carbon emissions from diesel engines — open-field agricultural burning, and wildfires and limiting tourism in fragile frozen regions. Scientific research must also accelerate into the diversity of cryospheric microorganisms that will not survive the cryosphere’s decline. 

Banned chemicals re-emerge

Global climate change is contributing to longer, more severe, and more frequent floods. A flood can carry significant volumes of sediment and debris, the report said.

Sediments and debris often include common inorganic toxic pollutants, for example arsenic, cadmium, chromium, lead, manganese, mercury or persistent organic pollutants (for example pesticides), sometimes preserved in the environment over centuries. 

When floods occur, these can re-enter cities or the food system. The persistent nature of these chemicals means even banned and phased-out chemicals can be remobilised. 

In recent years, extreme rainfall and subsequent flooding have demonstrated their ability to remobilise legacy pollutants accumulated in the environment. 

Extensive petroleum operations and incidences of oil spills in the Niger Delta of Nigeria over decades has led to severe contamination with ecological and human health consequences, the report said.

A catastrophic flood event in the Niger Delta in 2012 mobilised sediments contaminated with carcinogenic polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons and deposited them over extensive portions of the floodplain.”

After the worst flooding in more than 100 years along the Elbe River in the Czech Republic and Germany in 2002, hexachlorocyclohexane concentrations in fish downstream of former production sites of the pesticide, lindane, increased more than 20-fold. 

The same flood also mobilised legacy radionuclides and heavy metal pollutants from former uranium-mining waste dumps and tailing ponds in the Elbe region.

The Pakistan flood of 2010 inundated a fifth of the country’s total land area. It, together with a series of smaller flash floods, swept away a significant but unknown portion of 2 835 metric tonnes of obsolete pesticides and other persistent organic pollutants kept in storage facilities for proper disposal.

“The release of these obsolete chemicals into the environment will likely cause further contamination in soils, water, and sediments, and the damage needs to be monitored and assessed,” the report said.

Effective measures to reduce this imminent risk include traditional control measures like polders, dikes and retention basins, improved drainage systems, nature-based solutions like the sponge-city approach, regular monitoring of pollutants in diverse locations and products, and studying and tackling the economic impacts of this kind of pollution. 

The risk of ageing dams 

Another emerging threat the report addresses is the risk of ageing dams. It notes that alongside many benefits, dams can harm indigenous and fishing-dependent communities, as well as degrade ecosystems. 

There are about 62 000 large dams and millions of smaller barriers that exist worldwide, with expected effects on 90% of the world’s river volume by 2030. Large ageing dams are increasingly being removed in Europe and North America, once they become unsafe, obsolete, or economically unviable. 

Greater natural river connectivity means healthier ecosystems and greater biodiversity, renewing species’ access to tens or even hundreds of kilometres of upstream habitats. 

The report noted, however, that  where urbanisation, industrial agriculture or deforestation are common, dam removal alone may not significantly improve a river’s health. Large dam removals have the largest impact, though removing multiple small barriers may result in similar effects.

Adhering to the UN’s principles for ecosystem-restoration initiatives when considering the removal of river barriers is critical, the report said.

Not long ago, the Western media was showing videos of people being ruthlessly killed. They were recordings of beheadings by jihadis of the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria. The first of them was posted online in 2014. More followed soon after. They were shown at every news cycle on almost every news channel. Naturally, CNN, the BBC, Euronews and the rest wouldn’t show the entire clip. The videos were edited. Still, just enough was shown — enough to get the reaction they wanted to elicit from their audience. 

The common wisdom is that such clips desensitise the viewer to the loss of a human life. The truth is that they have a hypnotic effect on the mind. You cannot help watching what’s unfolding in front of you even though you’ve watched the video a thousand times and you know exactly what will happen next and the images have made you sick every time. 

Why is watching someone getting killed so shocking, at times even traumatising? It wasn’t always so. I’m not saying that humans were less sensitive to murder in the past because they were more used to it. My point is that a human life represents something else today and that its loss is felt differently as a result. What does murder represent for us today? 

For the majority of people today, murder represents the desecration of a superlative value. In modern society, a human life is sacrosanct. The belief is that it possesses dignity. If you kill a person, you violate something sacred and eternal.

This has been the common opinion in the West since the last quarter of the 18^th century. The 1776 text of the American Declaration of Independence and the 1789 Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen elevate a human life to the rank of something with inviolable rights which must be protected by law and government. The former says that “all men are created equal”. Article 1 of the latter says that, “Men are born and remain free and equal in rights.” Article 1 of the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights makes explicit what remains implicit in the first two texts. “All human beings are born free and [are] equal in dignity and rights.” 

Note that it speaks of humanity not as a species but as disunited into citizens and members of a political association. The attribution of sacrality depends on this limitation. It is not as an animal that a human being has dignity, but as a being that secures its rights by instituting government, by forming a political association, i.e. a people or nation. 

Everything leads us to suppose that the dignity of man derives from the supreme power accorded the nation. Article 3 of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen: “The principle of all sovereignty resides essentially in the nation. No body nor individual may exercise any authority which does not proceed directly from the nation.” 

The American Declaration of Independence speaks of the powers of government deriving from the consent of the governed. The sovereignty of the people or nation is absolute, indivisible, unconditional. We have a formidable metaphysical predicate in a political text that turns man the citizen into a political monster, a being with unlimited power. Is it any wonder that modernity is the age of man’s dominion over the earth, an anthropo-cene?

It is in any case why we hear the same refrain from Jean-Jacques Rousseau to Immanuel Kant: do not use a human being merely as a means but only as an end in itself. A man is not a thing to be enjoyed but a person that is owed respect. When people see someone being humiliated by having their dignity trampled on, the response is usually swift and violent. The time for talking is over. It is time to act. 

Let me illustrate this last point with the following example. The latest war between Hamas and Israel in Gaza began on 7 October 2023. The left was outraged by the loss of Palestinian lives at the hands of the Israeli army, but less by the loss of life on the other side, let alone by the kidnapping of 250 Israeli citizens. The left accords full moral status to Palestinians but almost none to Israelis. That is why it felt the loss of the former so much more strongly than the loss of the latter. 

Students protesting in the US went on marches. They occupied university campuses and put up tents everywhere. They raised blockades on bridges and highways. The time for talking was over.

Conversely, the right accords full moral status to Israelis but almost none to Palestinians. It was outraged by the massacre of 1 200 Israelis on 7 October but almost not at all by the loss of Palestinian lives in the months that followed. 

The left and right share a belief in the dignity of a human life. For both, a human life has value in itself. The reason they are locked in an insurmountable battle to the point that they are incapable of hearing each other out is because of their additional belief that the members of one nation are full-blooded humans, whereas the members of the other are “humans” in name only. 

What does this example tell us? Perhaps most strikingly the fact that the moral worth we attribute to people depends on our political leaning and on our identification with the left or right. Our politics dictates our perception of who is and isn’t human, whose loss we should mourn and whose loss we can safely ignore. 

The other thing it demonstrates is the fact that we have an emotive attachment to values and not, as Kant believes, a rational one. Our perception of a murder testifies to the fact that humans are wedded to their values emotively rather than rationally, that they have an unconscious attachment to them instead of being persuaded of their truth. 

Imagine someone trampling on your values in front of you. The scene would fill you with disdain and horror. The reaction by liberals is the illiberal one where, instead of hearing out what the violator has to say and what his reasons are for doing what he did, the liberal wants to see him crushed. 

Allow me to cite another example, the violent protests by Muslims around the world at the French weekly Charlie Hebdo’s cartoons of the prophet Mohamed in January 2015, which led to the death of 8 of its staff. The outrage was caused by two factors. First, the cartoons violated a taboo. They depicted the prophet, which is haraam. Second, as is generally the purpose of caricatures, they mocked and ridiculed him. Someone deemed holy by 1.8 billion people was made to look grotesque.  

The response by the French Muslim protesters made one thing clear. Up until then, the French believed that every citizen, though he may be opposed to others in virtue of his faith, nevertheless has enough in common with the rest to consider himself part of the same national community. The protests showed that this appearance of belonging is just that, an appearance. Satire is an integral part of French political culture. It is unthinkable without it. But it is anathema to Islam. The two are irreconcilable to the point that one has to give way to the other or reprisals follow.

This raises two difficult questions. The first is: how can cultures with competing values coexist in the same society? Isn’t it necessary for one of them to give way to the other? even in a democracy? Or does this show the impossibility of multiculturalism? The alternative, naturally, is to take one’s values less seriously or with a greater dose of irony. But is irony, satire, mockery and the rest possible in an age dominated by sincerity of belief and conviction, i.e. by wokism? 

I cannot offer an answer to the first question here. As for the second, it is certainly true that were the left and the right capable of taking themselves or their values with a greater dose of irony, that would make for a healthier civilisation. Sadly, the importance they both attach to identity, and to identity politics in particular, makes that impossible. The golden age of satire and mockery — i.e. from the late 1960s to the early 2000s – is long over. 

Rafael Winkler is a professor in the philosophy department at the University of Johannesburg.

During a recent visit to Shanghai, China, to attend the Mobile World Congress — the  world’s largest exhibition and conference for the mobile technology industry — I expected to see flying delivery drones, machines autonomously completing mundane tasks and robots that talk. 

It was not that futuristic but I saw technology being developed to pave the way for such a future — and it was fascinating. 

The three-day conference had displays of new smart watches and laptops — one was 3D and another was transparent — and cars that were entirely automated and could transform from an SUV into a pick-up (a bakkie, in local terms). 

I teased a robot that copied my hand gestures and saw a human-figured robot carry and deliver a crate. The developers said it was a prototype. They spoke about other advancements, like faster 5G networks and assistants, powered by artificial intelligence, to hold us accountable with our diets, exercise and tasks. 

The really fascinating way that technology is deployed in China is in the streets. The locals had everything at their fingertips — literally. 

Ahead of the trip, I was informed that everything was cashless and mostly digital. I didn’t need to worry about exchanging currencies and carrying cash. I just had to set my Visa card to international payments, and I was sorted. However, China has localised its pay options through WeChat and Alipay, so I was a bit limited in this regard. 

The country also localised its social media platforms — so the things the West uses to communicate: WhatsApp, Instagram, Facebook and Google, were blocked. 

I found that out at the last second, so I downloaded a paid VPN to bypass the firewalls a few minutes before boarding a 12-hour flight to Hong Kong and hoped it would give me connection — just to let my family know I was safe, and share some pictures on Instagram, obviously. 

We flew Cathay Pacific — between viewing the plane glide through the clouds via the screen in front of me and bingeing on series, sleeping and daydreaming, I was somewhat entertained through the flight. 

Hong Kong’s airport seemed pretty usual to me — big, well-lit with signboards everywhere — people in a rush or snoozing, and three South Africans looking for a meal at 6am (midnight South African time). China’s Pudong International Airport even had sleep-pods! 

My first “this is cool!” moment was before boarding my flight from Hong Kong to Shanghai. I had my boarding pass and passport in my hand, ready to give to the attendant at the gate. Instead, a camera scanned my weary face and in an instant confirmed my identity, my flight details and my seat number. No people needed. 

It was warm when we landed in Shanghai and the first step of the entry process was through a self-service e-channel or automated border control. I had input information from my travel documents, and scanned my fingerprints, so it could verify my identity. 

“Quick and easy,” I thought. But I still had to face the intimidating man at immigration control who triple-checked my passport before I stood before a screen that verified my identity — again. 

We proceeded to our DiDi — an e-hailing service — built into the WeChat app, to transport us to our hotel. It was an electric vehicle, a minibus, with automated doors, USB charging ports in the doors and the driver sat on the left-hand side. 

There were screens across the dashboard and some cars had screens in the back to provide entertainment for passengers. 

I downloaded Duolingo before the trip, in the hopes of learning some Chinese words to help me get around more easily, but I only used three: “Ni hao” (hello), xièxie (thank you) and TsingTao (a brand of beer). 

Thankfully, the locals had a translation app to lower the language barrier. They spoke into it, and the app read the translation back to us in English. We responded in English and they read the Chinese translation. It was easier than I expected.

The cars were mostly electric, so the roads were not fogged with fumes. I expected a clean city, so I wasn’t surprised by that, but I was pleased to see pot plants with gorgeous flowers lining the highways. 

The roads wound high and low between bridges and buildings. The pavements on the inner-city streets were lined with yellow and turquoise bicycles and multi-coloured scooters decorated with little stickers. They were parked under the shade of the many leafy trees in Shanghai. 

The scooters were also electric and the bicycles were accessible to anyone. Locals use an app to unlock the shared bicycles for 1.5RMB (R4) for an hour and up to 2RMB (R5) for the day. Locals can either buy an electric scooter or hire them from a company for about 280RMB (R700) a month.

There was always movement in the streets — elderly women drove scooters as swiftly as the hipster 20-year-olds. Locals were constantly on their phones — while walking, eating, working and even driving. 

I was not accustomed to exposing my devices out of fear of being robbed, but in China, I learnt to be a bit free with that. I appreciated that part of the communist state. 

The hotel had a little robotic helper that glided across the ground floor, through the lifts and back to its spot until it was given its next task. Kind of like the robot vacuum cleaners in homes, but this one was half my height and had a compartment to deliver food or parcels to customers. It even had a cutesy bow tie and suit jacket as a whimsical detail. That seemed very futuristic to me and exactly how I imagined China to be. 

In the evenings the city transformed into another world — the soft tones of the trees and the quiet humming from the electric vehicles were replaced by bright neon lights, music and a playground for Shanghai’s children, adults, friends and lovers. 

Swings whooshed, the merry-go-rounds whirled and kids moved around in quirky electric cars with lights and music. 

Surveillance cameras are stuck into corners of billboards and buildings — something I became very aware of, once I noticed them. 

Shanghai’s skyline was more than I imagined it to be — tall skyscrapers and bright lights — which mesmerised and overwhelmed me. 

The colonial-style buildings at The Bund, which overlooks the Huangpu River, glowed in a brilliant gold. This is the business district and is home to the country’s central bank. I was fascinated by the glamour of the space. 

I went up the second-tallest building in the world, The Shanghai Tower, to observe the city from above, and I got to experience the city from down below — walking alongside locals in People’s Square towards The Bund, and eat and shop at Xintiandi and at The Yuyuan Bazaar. This is a beautiful market characterised by traditional Chinese architecture, featuring curved roofs, wood carvings and colourful lanterns. 

My eating experiences deserve their own chapter but the spicy, soupy noodles; tangy seafood and dumplings, mushrooms, flower-bud teas and the best coffee I ever have are still lingering on my taste buds. 

It was a novel experience but the future I had imagined — flying drones and talking robots — wasn’t hovering dramatically overhead. Instead, it was woven quietly into daily life, in the silent glide of electric vehicles, the soft whir of delivery robots and the glow of neon lights reflecting off skyscrapers. 

It wasn’t science fiction; it was practical, human and happening now. And while I might have arrived expecting spectacle, I left marvelling at how seamlessly technology and city life had blended — a glimpse of what might one day become ordinary, everywhere. 

The journalist’s trip to Shanghai, China was sponsored by Huawei Technologies.

In the townships, billboards glamourise alcohol as a marker of success, style and independence, and it’s no accident who the adverts are speaking to — young, black and aspirational people.

Across South Africa, teens to 35-year-old black people are being sold an identity that is tied to the bottle because they are a profitable market.

It’s a tactic with deep roots. During apartheid, the infamous “dop system” saw black and coloured farmworkers in the Cape winelands paid in alcohol, fuelling generational cycles of dependence. Apartheid leaders used “liquor freedom” to dampen political opposition and generate revenues for the bantustans — and the alcohol industry cashed in on the ride.

Today, the method has changed but the motive has not. Big Liquor continues to extract value from the most vulnerable, not by force, but by fantasy. The fantasy of glamour, success, and “black excellence” — bottled and branded.

In this country, heavy drinking is linked to more than 62 000 deaths each year. It fuels violence, drains public resources and shortens life expectancy. Children and teenagers are affected, with early consumption causing changes to their brain development, affecting their memory and ability to learn. There is no safe level of alcohol consumption for adolescents and early binge-drinking in the teen years has serious long-term health consequences. Yet about 30% of teen boys and 20% of teen girls binge-drink.

But make no mistake: this crisis has been engineered. It is not simply the outcome of personal choices, it is the product of a calculated marketing system that targets youth where they live, learn and scroll.

Tactics of targeting

Alcohol brands concentrate their adverts in black townships, on the walls of bottle stores that sit just metres from schools. Liquor outlets in close proximity to schools draw young people away from the classroom. A study in Mpumalanga found that people were of the view that underage drinking was a result of advertising, among other factors.

On TV, alcohol commercials flood programmes popular with black youth, portraying drinking as essential to being cool, respected or successful. A SSoul City Institute study documented how beer ads led township boys to believe that drinking would lead to success, as if alcohol were a shortcut to status.

These messages are further amplified by social media, where alcohol brands work with influencers, many of them young, black people, to push products at parties and music events. To teenagers, these posts don’t look like adverts. They look like an aspirational life. And that’s exactly the point.

Add to that celebrity endorsements and sponsorships, and excessive advertising at sports engagements, and the message is relentless: drinking is what the glamorous, accomplished and confident do. Especially if they look like you.

The industry is strategic even in its segmentation.Sweet, pink, “flirty” ciders are marketed to girls, sometimes as young as 14, under the guise of “ladies’ night” freebies. Meanwhile, boys are courted through sports sponsorships and “macho” branding. In both cases, the aim is the same: hook them young, build brand loyalty and normalise alcohol in every corner of youth culture.

Bigger than South Africa

This is not just a South African story. It’s a global playbook.

In the United States, black and Hispanic neighbourhoods have historically been flooded with alcohol and cigarette billboards, while white suburbs remained untouched. Cognac brands such as Hennessy targeted African-American consumers so aggressively in the 1980s that more than half their sales came from this group alone.

In Kenya, authorities ordered the removal of alcohol billboards near schools after children as young as seven were found to be drinking. In response to youth exposure, the government also proposed a 15% tax on all alcohol advertising to discourage brands from blanketing residential areas in marketing.

And yet in South Africa, where the health burden of alcohol is among the highest in the world, from murders and road fatalities to gender-based violence and foetal alcohol spectrum disorders, Big Liquor remains largely unchecked. Why? Because this is their most fertile ground. A young, growing population. High inequality. Weak regulation. And a long history of exploiting black people for profit.

We cannot continue to let an industry that profits from trauma define the futures of our youth. We cannot allow “black excellence” to be sold to us through bottles, billboards and branded content.

There is no single fix, but there is a clear path forward.

Yes, the draft Liquor Amendment Bill, languishing in the department of trade, industry and competition since 2016, should be passed. It proposes raising the drinking age from 18 to 21, banning ads that target minors and preventing liquor outlets from trading within 500 metres of schools. But the real work is deeper and longer-term.

We need to reclaim the public and digital spaces where young people gather. We must elevate music, mentorship, sport and storytelling that doesn’t rely on alcohol to be compelling. We must support youth initiatives that build real confidence. 

Above all, we must challenge the idea that alcohol is part of becoming “a somebody”. It’s time to say: enough. Our culture is not your campaign. Our future is not for sale.

Alcohol advertising sees young black people as a market. We see them as the future. 

Kashifa Ancer is the campaign manager for Rethink Your Drink, an alcohol harm reduction campaign by the DG Murray Trust.

With South Africa at the helm of the G20 and the African Union seated at the table, this year’s G20 processes represent a defining moment for African diplomacy. The AU must act with unity, urgency and strategic clarity to ensure that both its agenda and South Africa’s deliverables translate into meaningful outcomes. 

The AU was admitted as a permanent member of the G20 in 2023; it has held observer status since its inception in 1999. Since then, the agenda at the annual G20 summit has aligned with the AU’s priorities, providing a significant platform to champion causes relevant to the African continent. It is for this reason that South Africa’s G20 presidency is a powerful moment for Africa, as African issues are at the forefront of the world’s leaders’ minds. 

Historically, the AU has seen diplomatic success through its instrumental role in launching the Global Alliance Against Hunger and Poverty, endorsing the Principles for Just and Inclusive Energy Transitions, and reaffirming its support for the G20 Compact with Africa.

South Africa’s G20 faces unprecedented diplomatic tensions, as the geo-political situation with the United States adds a new layer of complexity. Experts in international relations suggest the situation demands an AU-wide response, as it concerns Africa’s rightful place at the table where global economic rules are written. 

The AU has an opportunity to engage diplomatically with the incoming US G20 presidency while standing firm on Africa’s right to full participation. To support South Africa and maximise Africa’s influence, the AU should leverage its seat proactively. It should assertively promote its strategic priorities by aligning them with G20 priorities.

A unified African position

From the perspective of international development, South Africa’s representation at the G20 is not merely national but continental. When properly backed by AU consensus positions, South Africa can transform from a middle-power voice to the representative of a continent with 1.3 billion people and tremendous economic potential. The AU must establish formalised pre-G20 consultation mechanisms to ensure South Africa enters negotiations carrying the collective weight of the continent’s aspirations.

Mahamoud Ali Youssouf, the chairperson of the AU Commission, has an opportunity to emphasise that fragmentation diminishes Africa’s influence in global forums. The AU Commission could work to consolidate Africa’s diplomatic capital through structured consultations that produce clear mandates for the continent’s G20 representative.

The AU must work with the agility and coordination of other blocs such as the European Union by advocating for the reduction of tariffs between African countries and pushing for policy harmonisation. These steps will strengthen trade between member states, boost development, increase GDP, and present Africa as a competitive global player.

Climate justice and finance

The AU must empower South Africa to demand climate justice and significant adaptation financing from G20 nations that bear historical responsibility. According to environmental policy experts, Africa contributes less than 4% of global carbon emissions, yet suffers disproportionately from climate change. 

South Africa needs continental backing to push for reforms to the development finance architecture. The current systems often perpetuate inequalities rather than addressing them which can be challenged through a unified African position.

Additionally, the AU can position itself as a leader among Global South countries in the G20 by spearheading discussions on debt sustainability and global financial reform. It should take the lead in advocating reforms that prioritise borrowers’ needs and pushing for a more inclusive and equitable global financial system, an outcome that would benefit Africa and other developing countries alike.

Africa’s greatest untapped advantage lies beyond the halls of government, in the energy of our civil society, the innovation of our private sector and the vision of our youth. To maximise our G20 influence, the AU should institutionalise structured consultations with  cooperatives, women’s business associations, climate activists and tech entrepreneurs. These voices bring legitimacy and ground truth that no diplomat alone can muster.

The G20’s engagement groups offer critical platforms that South Africa can ensure includes robust African representation, translating continental priorities into actionable global agendas. With South Africa at the helm of the G20 and the AU seated at the table, the 2025 G20 processes represent a defining moment for African diplomacy. When Africa speaks with one voice, the world has no choice but to listen.

Measuring success

For Africa’s G20 engagement to move beyond symbolic presence to strategic influence, the AU should, in tandem with South Africa’s vision of the G20, establish clear metrics for success.

Each summit should be evaluated against specific continental priorities, from debt restructuring to digital economy governance. Without measurable outcomes, participation remains performative rather than transformative.

Africa’s greatest untapped advantage lies beyond the halls of government, but in the energy of our civil society, the innovation of our private sector, and the vision of our youth. To maximise our G20 influence, the AU must institutionalise structured consultations with  cooperatives, women’s business associations, climate activists and tech entrepreneurs. These voices bring legitimacy and ground truth that no diplomat alone can muster.

The G20’s engagement groups offer critical platforms we’ve underused. South Africans should ensure these forums include robust African representation, translating continental priorities into actionable global agendas.

African governance and development advocates emphasise that the future of global governance must include meaningful African participation, beginning with strategic coordination between the AU and Africa’s G20 representatives. When Africa speaks with one voice, the world has no choice but to listen.

Munjodzi Mutandiri is a senior programme adviser at the Southern Africa Liaison Office.

Mining is still central to the South African economy. It employs roughly 480 000 people directly. With an estimated dependency ratio of 10 to one, the industry essentially supports close to five million people. That’s a twelfth of the country’s population. 

Demand for minerals and metals is not slowing down. But our gold mining sector will close down at some stage — even current high gold prices cannot sustain going deeper because of safety risks and the associated expense. There will come a point where marginal cost exceeds marginal benefit. 

Outside of gold, South Africa should be a global mining powerhouse. For the past 20 years, however, there has been very little exploration or production expansion investment. 

In partnership with Mining Dialogues 360°, Good Governance Africa set out to explore what it would take to revive the mining industry and ensure that it becomes the catalyst for broad-based development. It became clear that the country needs a new vision for mining that will reconcile conflicting interests that seem to perennially be at loggerheads with each other.

Any new vision needs to begin with the end in mind; what do we want mining to do for the country? We can all wax lyrical about that, but there’s an obstacle that must be dealt with first. Mining has an awful history in South Africa of imposing severe negative externalities onto both society and the environment. These are the divergences between private returns and social costs. In other words, companies mine and sell gold, reporting profits in the process, but they pollute rivers, create sinkholes, precipitate acid mine drainage, exploit labour and damage the social fabric of society in the process. 

None of these ecological and social costs are recorded in company financial statements. This speaks to a broader global problem, but it’s particularly acute in mining, especially here at home.

It’s often mine-adjacent communities that bear the brunt of this malaise. In South Africa, migrant labour exacerbates the social costs on two fronts. First, many workers who migrate to the mines end up supporting two families; HIV proliferation has been extensive as a result. Second, many workers end up retiring to the former homelands and dying soon thereafter of silicosis or some other mining-related illness. The social costs of mining are clearly immeasurable and significant.

At our most recent dialogue, civil society representatives expressed the view that the industry seems to be geared towards short-term production targets and immediate profitability at the expense of long-term (ecologically sound) thinking and optimal wealth generation for all stakeholders. Strategies to attain consensus — and then execute on — a new vision need to be informed by meaningful discussions, not mere consultation as some kind of box-ticking exercise. 

Moreover, free, prior and informed consent should be continually sought, underwritten by an acknowledgement that “no” to mining is also a legitimate response from mine-affected or potentially affected communities. They are often left without solutions to the problems created by mining, and this needs to be addressed through purposeful discussions, not cursory consultations that amount to people being told what is going to happen to them.

Many of the harms mining causes are environmental. Regulations exist to prevent such harm, but enforcement is inconsistent. Even when the legal framework is strong, communities often lack the knowledge and tools to hold companies accountable. This asymmetry fosters moral hazard: companies externalise harm while reporting profit. Bridging these gaps requires education, in local languages, to empower rights-based action.

Beyond legal compliance, mining companies frequently bypass meaningful engagement. Social and labour plans (SLPs), meant to channel mining benefits into development, are often drawn up with minimal community involvement. The process is top-down, consultative in name only, and poorly documented. The SLPs are frequently geographically misaligned, excluding communities downstream of operations who still suffer the effects of pollution. They also rarely prepare labour for life after mining. The result is development that is poorly targeted, unaccountable and unsustainable.

Some companies worsen these dynamics by co-opting local activists or working through pliant intermediaries, fuelling internal divisions. This divide-and-rule approach minimises risk for companies but leaves communities fragmented and disempowered. The SLPs then become tools of corporate image management rather than genuine vehicles for transformation. Often, they fund short-lived projects that decline and often collapse once the mine closes, unlinked to local integrated development plans (IDPs). Even where integration is attempted, weak municipal IDPs render it ineffective.

Greenwashing is common. Companies promote their environmental, social and governance credentials, but scrutiny reveals minimal ecological remediation, long-term plans for restoration and socio-economic upliftment. Executives typically stay removed from community realities, unwilling to talk to residents and local authorities. This maintains a status quo in which firms pursue reputational insulation over authentic partnership. For communities, this entrenches an adversarial stance. Trust is absent where engagement is asymmetric.

In the absence of viable livelihood alternatives, some residents resort to informal mining. Labelling them “illegal” dehumanises people who are often driven by survival or coerced into impossible positions by organised crime bosses. The official response, including recent commentary after the Stilfontein disaster, has lacked empathy and insight. It’s no surprise that resentment festers where people are treated as expendable. A political culture defined by patronage and corruption fails to meet the complexity of this problem.

Land dispossession remains largely unresolved. Many mine-affected communities still have no title deeds, decades after democracy. That dispossession underpins the call for resource nationalism, especially among the young and disillusioned. There are strong veins of resentment here into which unscrupulous politicians can tap. While social grants may suppress open rebellion — some dialogue members mused whether welfare hadn’t placated revolution — frustration simmers. Without structural change based on policy reform, the call for redress will grow louder.

Efforts to build unified community responses face further obstacles. Activists expressed disillusionment with NGOs that impose external agendas. Some community gatekeepers, meanwhile, have been accused of colluding with mining firms or of blocking access to resources. Mining companies often work with whoever shouts the loudest, further muddying accountability. These dynamics prevent the emergence of a coherent response voice. Communities are not homogeneous, nor should we expect them to be, but this should not hinder the expression of a heterogeneous set of voices.

The solution requires recognising that power is layered. Without coordination and organisation, communities remain vulnerable to fragmentation, as they struggle to build countervailing power. Yet unity is hard to achieve when trust is scarce and gatekeepers act in their own interest. Still, any serious vision for the sector must support such coordination as the basis for accountability and equitable negotiation.

Two distinct imperatives shape mining’s future. On one highway, government and industry seek investment-friendly conditions. On the other, communities seek restitution and opportunity. These paths need not be in conflict, but reconciliation demands a vision centred on shared prosperity. Capital must not be prioritised over labour and land. Community benefit must become a measure of mining’s success.

That shift requires credible, trackable metrics. One proposal is a national indicator for “community well-being”, with mining firms accountable for positive movement in that measure. This would reframe profitability to include social return, not just shareholder value. Others suggest revenue-sharing mechanisms such as Australia’s “royalties for regions” scheme. But concerns about corruption, especially in community trusts, remain valid. Without institutional reform, even well-designed systems can be subverted.

A new social contract is overdue. Mining cannot continue to operate in enclaves of profit surrounded by poverty. It must embrace a model of co-determination with affected communities and acknowledge its historical legacy. That demands not just consultation but free, prior, informed and continued consent. It demands not just compliance, but transformation. Without these shifts, mining will remain a source of conflict instead of development.

Ross Harvey is the chief research officer at Good Governance Africa (GGA)-SARO. Mining Dialogues 360° and GGA are hosting a plenary dialogue for all mining industry stakeholders on 29 July. To attend, please email info@gga.org