Opinion & Analysis

The vanishing euphoria

Transitions are a complicated struggle against the ghosts of past administrations and entrenched interests 
PIC: KENNEDY RAMOKONE Transitions are a complicated struggle against the ghosts of past administrations and entrenched interests 
PIC: KENNEDY RAMOKONE
Transitions are a complicated struggle against the ghosts of past administrations and entrenched interests PIC: KENNEDY RAMOKONE

The streets hum with chants of renewal. Regime change arrives on a wave of hope, a collective exhale from a populace weary of the old guard’s missteps. Crowds flood the streets, fists raised in triumphant fervour, convinced that the dawn of a new political dispensation will bring the long-elusive promise of prosperity, justice, and principled governance. But history, forever a ruthless chef that dishes out unforgiving dim sum lessons, has incessantly shown that the path from jubilation to governance is fraught with pitfalls. And the presidential seat, no matter how ardently desired, is normally a gilded cage, an alluring throne from afar, shimmering with promise and power, but once inside, the gold quickly fades, revealing the significant constraints brought about by the weight of responsibility, scrutiny, and sacrifice. Transitions are rarely a straightforward exchange of power. They are a complicated struggle against the ghosts of past administrations, entrenched interests, and the crushing weight of unrealistic expectations.

The euphoria of change is fleeting, and as the dust settles, as it always does, reality rudely intrudes. New presidency is akin to a young and ambitious novice mountaineer tackling his first mountain. At the outset, the ascent seems manageable, the air is fresh, the path is clear, adrenaline surges, and the summit seems conquerable. The climber breezes through the lower slopes, emboldened by the cheers of onlookers and the reassuring sight of progress. But as he ascends, the terrain becomes steeper, the air thinner, and fatigue sets in. Every step demands an exertion far greater than before, and the euphoria of the beginning is gradually replaced by the reality that reaching the summit is an ordeal fraught with exhaustion, uncertainty, and the ever-present risk of slips.

The fledgling mountaineer, once brimming with confidence, is forced to confront his limitations. The same is true for a new president. The initial days are marked by a flurry of activity and optimism, but the realities of governance soon take their toll. What began as an exhilarating conquest soon morphs into a hard struggle against the unforgiving forces that push back; forces of bureaucratic inertia, social resistance birthed by the rigid expectations of an impatient populace pining for change, entrenched political interests, unconstructive and destructive criticism, the sheer weight of systemic challenges and unforeseen crises. These forces, often invisible at the outset, are the headwinds that test the mettle of even the most determined leaders, turning what was once seen as a straightforward political and leadership ascent into a gruelling battle for survival and relevance, requiring oodles of endurance and principled resolve. The climb to effective governance, much like scaling a mountain, is not just about the strength to ascend but the resilience to withstand the pressures that seek to pull one down. Nowhere has this been more evident than in the transitions from Mandela to Mbeki, Zuma to Ramaphosa, Mugabe to Mnangagwa, Khama to Masisi, and the recent shift from Masisi to Boko. Nelson Mandela, the global icon, revered for his key role in the liberation struggle and nearly deified for his extraordinary efforts in driving reconciliation, was more than a leader; he was perceived as a messianic figure who embodied the triumph of justice over apartheid's abominable rule.

South Africa’s first democratic election in 1994 was the closest thing to a political fairy tale, until reality reared its head. When Mandela, at the age of 87, handed the baton to Mbeki in 1999, South Africa was still basking in the afterglow of its miraculous transition from apartheid to democracy. Mandela set an unsurpassably high bar that seemed to grow wings, always fluttering out of reach, leaving Mbeki helplessly grasping at the wind. The buzzwords of the era were the “rainbow nation,” a term that epitomised the soaring hope for a unified South Africa, a multi-hued nation where people of diverse socio-economic backgrounds and kaleidoscope of cultures could coexist in harmony. It was a vision that captured the imagination of the world, symbolising the promise of reconciliation and renewal after the dark shadows of apartheid. Yet, as Mbeki came to appreciate, like all powerful metaphors, the “rainbow nation” was both an aspiration and a challenge, proving that unity is not a destination but an infinite and engaging path fraught with complexities.

Mbeki inherited not just a country but an untenable set of expectations. He was expected to build on Mandela’s largely idealised legacy while addressing the pressing issues of destitution, inequality, housing instability, and HIV/AIDS, the very intractable wounds that Mandela himself could only graze with his mythical Midas touch but never truly heal. The economic disparities of apartheid did not dissolve overnight. Mbeki’s presidency soon became a study in unfulfilled promise. His tenure was marred by the slow pace of land reform, the perception that his administration lacked the warmth and gravitas of Mandela’s, and his controversial stance on HIV/AIDS, which alienated both the public and the international community. Mbeki’s aloof leadership style and inability to connect with the grassroots further eroded his support. By the time he was recalled by the African National Congress (ANC) in 2008, the hope that had accompanied his ascension had curdled into disillusionment. What was once an exuberant national spirit slowly gave way to economic frustrations and increasing racial tensions, clearly reflecting that even the most capable successors can stumble under the weight of a towering legacy. Jacob Zuma’s presidency was considered a spectacle of scandal; a parade of corruption, state capture, and economic freefall. When Cyril Ramaphosa ascended to power in 2018, South Africa was teetering on the brink of institutional ruin and desperate for a saviour. The expectation was that Ramaphosa, a wealthy businessman, seasoned negotiator, and former unionist, would purge the country of the rot. But cleansing an entrenched patronage system proved Herculean.

His promises of rooting out corruption and revitalising the economy were met with widespread acclaim. Yet, seven years on, the glow has faded. Ramaphosa’s tenure has been hamstrung by factional battles within the ANC, a stagnant economy, the slow pace of holding the corrupt accountable as well as the scathing self-indictment birthed by his self-engineered wounds associated with the Phala Phala scandal, and failure to equitably redistribute land, most of which remains under the control of a historically advantaged minority, a damning indictment of systemic inequality that has unjustifiably endured for three decades since the ANC assumed power. Ramaphosa’s tenure has been hit by dwindling popularity among the electorate, a decline that forced the ANC into a makeshift government of national unity (GNU). This coalition, which includes people historically viewed by many as former oppressors, has been a bitter pill to swallow for a majority still grappling with the emotional, psychological, and physical scars of apartheid. For a nation that once rallied behind the ANC as the vanguard of liberation, this alliance has felt like a betrayal. The move, while perhaps politically pragmatic, has deepened the frustration of a populace already weary of broken promises and unfulfilled potential. The GNU move has exposed the shakiness of Ramaphosa’s leadership and the ANC’s waning grip on the sceptre of the nation’s trust. The electorate’s hope has been replaced by a weary skepticism, markedly highlighting that even the most well-intentioned leaders can be compromised by the complexities of governance and the inefficiency of a fissured political system. The ANC remains deeply fractured, making Ramaphosa’s attempts at reform a slow, perhaps even, losing battle. Despite Ramaphosa’s efforts, unemployment soared during his tenure, casting a shadow over his administration’s economic policies and compounding the plight of millions. Power blackouts became the norm, and the cost of living skyrocketed. South Africans who once saw Ramaphosa as a progressive messie politique now waver between restrained optimism and outright despondency.

The irony? After barely steadying the ship but never charting a profoundly creative, impactful and immortal course, Ramaphosa may not scoop the title of Visionary Architect of Renewal, but that of Committed Caretaker of Decline. Few transitions have carried the weight of expectation quite like the ousting of Robert Mugabe in 2017. His fall was met with widespread jubilation, rippling not only through his home country but echoing across the breadth of Southern Africa. After nearly four decades of what was seen by many as authoritarian rule, Mugabe's Zimbabwe had degenerated into economic despair; a country mercilessly battered by hyperinflation, political repression, and international sanctions. Despite having served as Mugabe’s most senior lieutenant for close to three years, when Emmerson Mnangagwa took over the reins of power, the cheers were deafening. His rise to power was heralded as a new dawn, a relief for many Zimbabweans and a promise of a roseate tomorrow for all. Zimbabweans held their breath, hoping against hope for the ‘lethal mamba’ to shed its venom and transform into a ‘gentle millipede;’ a dream as unlikely as it was desperate, unrealistically wishing that their beloved country would cast off the chains of its oppressive past and firmly seize the vital opportunity for a fresh start. Mnangagwa’s promises of economic reform and political inclusivity were music to the ears of a nation ravaged by many years of economic downslide.

But like a cruel joke, Mnangagwa's rule is seen by many as mirroring much of Mugabe’s authoritarian tendencies. His regime has been accused of perpetuating the very abuses it vowed to end, from violent crackdowns on dissent to economic policies that have failed to stem the country’s declension. The economy remains in shambles, inflation still bites, and political opposition is routinely silenced. The so-called 'New Dispensation' proved to be an old one wearing a fresh mask. Optimism withered into despair because, despite the change in leadership, the systemic rot endured. The hope that accompanied Mugabe’s fall has given way to a grim realisation; a change of guard in the highest office does not always translate into meaningful systemic change. For our country, the switch from Ian Khama to Mokgweetsi Masisi in 2018 was initially seamless. Despite opposition from some cabinet ministers, Khama, the scion of Botswana’s founding family, had anointed Masisi as his successor. Yet, within months, the relationship between the pair had soured. Seeking to carve out his own legacy, the once loyal protégé turned into his sponsor’s chief adversary as his determination to assert his authority and break free from Khama’s shadow fractured their bond, sparking a bitter and protracted public feud.

The escalating tensions reached a breaking point, compelling Khama to go on the lam, together with his brothers, evading the mounting political and legal challenges that encircled him like a tightening noose. What was once a relationship built on what seemed like absolute loyalty and mutual respect degenerated into a clash of titans as Masisi’s determination to forge his own path collided head-on with Khama’s entrenched influence and inflexible expectations. And what had begun as a routine passing of the baton, soon exposed the cleavages within Botswana’s political landscape, and unravelled into a dramatic clash of egos. The fallout was not just a personal rift, it also exposed deep tensions within the Botswana Democratic Party (BDP) and revealed how quickly the veneer of unity can crack under the weight of ambition and ego, reshaping what the nation had always perceived as trusted allies into bitter rivals. What followed was an unprecedented political division, with Khama openly opposing his successor and forming a breakaway political faction. The BDP, long known for its internal cohesion, save for the 2010 Botswana Movement for Democracy secession that amounted to an inconsequential distraction, suddenly found itself mired in factionalism. While Masisi attempted to consolidate his autonomy and reposition the government’s priorities, his tenure was shadowed by economic stagnation, rising unemployment, and public disenchantment. What was supposed to be a smooth transition turned into one of Botswana’s most politically turbulent periods, proving that in some cases, power, once relinquished, is never truly abandoned without a fight.

The transition, while not completely catastrophic, reflects that even the most harmonious successions can collapse under the pressures of toxic self-entitlement, inflated self-regard and overblown self-idolising inclinations. Under Masisi, our country faced an increasingly vocal opposition, and in the social-media space; a much-needed breath of fresh air swept through the nation, particularly the tech-savvy Gen Z, revitalising a nation that had begun to savour the taste of free expression long stifled under the previous regime, where dissent was often considered subversive, and disgruntled voices were cautiously measured. The 2024 election ushered in Duma Boko, leader of the Umbrella for Democratic Change (UDC).

Hungry for change, the electorate, wearied by economic stagnation, unemployment, and a leadership not only cloaked in arrogance, but also perceived as untruthful and corrupt, took the decisive action of firing Masisi. Boko, a charismatic and eloquent lawyer, is working towards positioning himself as the antidote to the former ruling party’s complacency. And he has flashed out attractive promises to the electorate, old and young alike. How will Boko fare? The challenge of unseating an entrenched political machine, even in the face of widespread discontent, is often a daunting task. And what history has proven time and time again is that the machinery of government does not turn at the drop of a hat, reform is often a painstakingly slow process. Nearly five months into his infantile presidency, a few strides beyond the trailhead of his leadership, Boko has taken his first steps into the arduous climb of stewardship. We have witnessed an articulate president who engages confidently with international organs, advocacy and concern-based groups, the public and the media, and a seemingly decisive leader who vows to hold wrongdoers to account. A man who promises to leverage state resources to enact tangible changes, such as increasing allowances for targeted groups, and reducing utility tariffs to alleviate costs for all households and promote modest countrywide economic relief. All we can do is keenly watch the unfolding tides of history, our hearts tethered to hope, quietly yearning for the dawn of a brighter tomorrow, but acutely aware of possibility of failure, given the gravity of the burdens he faces, many of which he inherited. The transitions from Mandela to Mbeki, Zuma to Ramaphosa, Mugabe to Mnangagwa, Khama to Masisi, reflect that regime changes, no matter how fervently desired, are never easy.

The road from hope to governance is often littered with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. And hope can be a fickle thing. The cheers that usher in a new era can just as quickly turn into murmurs of dissatisfaction, followed by outright rebellion. Regime changes have never been easy because governing is neither about transcendent and captivating eloquence, nor catchy slogans and alluring but hyperbolic promises; it is about decisions; hard, unpopular, and often painful. Were this mere conjecture, Masisi would still command the presidential seat, his rule sealed in an unbreakable vault, wholly immune to any opposing force until 2029. Political transitions are never about the individual leader alone.

They are fraught with challenges, from the weight of legacy to the power of entrenched but lethargic systems. And they are about institutions, historical baggage, economic forces, and the sheer paralysis of governance. Surely President Boko has inherited multiple shady vestiges of his predecessor’s administration; failed systems, deep-rooted and outrageous power networks, and the weight of unmet expectations. To sustain the momentum of the euphoria associated with the recent political transition, he must focus on delivering effective solutions. Simply because the cosmetic process of changing portraits adorning walls, or the smallest denominations of banknotes, is always of superficial value, and never eliminates ingrained structural challenges. These, unfortunately, are the hard truths of governance that often lead to the vanishing euphoria of transitions!