Political Apathy
Tswelopele Makoe|Published
THIS past Tuesday, Zimbabwe’s 83-year-old President Emmerson Mnangagwa scandalously imposed a new law that irretrievably tightens his grip on power.
In a deeply controversial move, he signed legislation extending his stay in the Presidency by two years beyond the end of his term. More alarmingly, the legislation effectively strips Zimbabweans of their right to directly vote for their president, transferring that power solely to Zimbabwe’s Parliament.
This move by Mnangagwa has completely flipped the table on Zimbabwe’s political landscape. Democracies across the globe are largely built upon the premise of voting, of being able to directly contribute to the determination of leadership. Without that, the sentiment of democracy is majorly dwarfed.
This is particularly profound for Zimbabwe, which had previously been led by former President Robert Mugabe, who was in leadership for over 30 years. It seems his successor is chasing the same torrid dream.
This debacle should serve as a stark warning to neighbouring South Africa as we fast approach our own local elections on November 4. Today, Zimbabweans are watching one of the most fundamental pillars of democracy slip through their fingers: the right to choose their own leaders.
Here at home, we still possess that power. Yet too many South Africans treat Election Day as just another public holiday, forgetting that millions across the continent are fighting to protect the very right we so casually neglect.
Voting is not merely a constitutional right; it is a privilege history has shown can be weakened, manipulated, or taken away. The greatest tragedy is not losing the vote. It is having it and choosing not to use it.
This is the main point of democracy that everybody seems to have forgotten. Participation is key. In fact, it is a gift. It is the palpable opportunity to shape your nation at a systemic level. It is the power of determining the presidency, the party, and the leaders who impact people’s daily lives.
Too often, we complain about government louder than we participate in choosing it. We curse unbridled corruption, rampant unemployment, collapsing infrastructure and inefficient municipalities, only to disappear (every five years) when the ballot box calls our name.
We speak as though democracy owes us something, especially in South Africa, while conveniently forgetting that democracy asks something of us too. A ballot paper may seem small, but history has repeatedly shown that it is one of the most powerful weapons ordinary people possess.
Here’s the scorching truth: Apathy is never politically neutral. Your decision to not vote is a decision within itself. When you don’t vote, you’re failing to realise that every election you choose not to participate in still produces a winner. The only difference is that someone else made the decision for you.
Whether it is leaders or citizens, systems or organisations, democracy simply does not disappear overnight… it erodes, one decision at a time. And this erosion is rarely the work of governments alone. It also depends on the silence, complacency and disengagement of the very people democracy was designed to empower.
Because democracy does not die only when governments steal elections. It also dies when citizens voluntarily surrender their voice through apathy. It would be a truly monumental shame to wait until the ballot is taken from our hands before we realise its value.
The fact is that Zimbabwe is not an isolated case. Africa’s history is littered with leaders who arrived promising liberation, only to spend decades desperately clinging to power. Many have governed for 30, 40 and even 50 years, not because democracy failed overnight, but because the people’s power was gradually diminished, intimidated or snatched away altogether. That is the real danger of political apathy.
By the time citizens realise the value of their democratic voice, it has often already been silenced. Democracy survives only as long as ordinary people are willing to exercise it, defend it and refuse to surrender it.
The devastating part is that democracy, the freedoms we enjoy across our societies today, was arduously won — in literal blood, sweat and tears — by our own parents, grandparents, and millions of sacrificed lives.
The memory of that struggle for the right to vote is what should really be at the forefront of Election Day. Every time we ignore election day, we not only wholly dishonour their struggle; we spit in the face of their momentous sacrifice.
Across the continent, our post-independence societies face a plethora of challenges — of course, some more than others. However, we seriously risk our futures when we shrug off opportunities like elections. The risk is not only exclusion or misinformation; it is the gradual theft of our freedom while we stand by convinced someone else will stop it.
We cannot keep behaving as though democracy is indestructible. It isn’t. It has been hijacked before. It has been manipulated before. It has been stolen before. And history has never been kind to people who willingly surrendered their voice.
Perhaps the greatest lie we tell ourselves is that one vote cannot change anything. Yet every election in history has been decided by the collective weight of individual decisions. Democracy has never depended on one heroic citizen. It has always depended on millions of ordinary people believing their voice matters enough to use it.
Zimbabwe’s lesson is not simply about Zimbabwe. It is about every nation arrogant enough to believe that democracy is guaranteed. It isn’t. Every freedom we enjoy today exists because someone before us refused to accept oppression as inevitable. That is what any free nation is built upon.
Zimbabwe should not only evoke our sympathy. It should expose our complacency. Today, Zimbabweans are scrambling to retain their inherent power: their vote. South Africa, and countless others, could just as easily find themselves in the same situation.
Our democracies aren’t failing because we care too much; they’re failing because too many of us have convinced ourselves that someone else will care on our behalf. Year after year, we keep mourning broken governments while refusing to participate in building better ones. But the blatant truth is that democracy requires more than honest leaders; it demands active citizens.
Otherwise, today’s silence will surely become tomorrow’s crisis. If the situation in Zimbabwe teaches us anything, it is this: Democracy is far easier to take for granted than it is to win back.
* Tswelopele Makoe is a gender and social justice activist and editor at Global South Media Network. She is a researcher, columnist, and an Andrew W Mellon scholar at the Desmond Tutu Centre for Religion and Social Justice, UWC.
** The views expressed here do not reflect those of the Sunday Independent, IOL, or Independent Media.
