If history is a guide, MKP’s rise is both a warning and a promise — a reminder of the enduring power of emotion in politics and the fleeting nature of movements that fail to turn passion into progress, says writer. Picture: Supplied
OPINION: Will MKP succeed where the EFF faltered, or is it destined to repeat the cycle? South Africa watches, captivated and uncertain, writes Vhahangwele Tsotetsi.
South African politics has long been a theatre of emotion, where narratives of identity, defiance, and pride often trump the finer details of policy.
It's a space where frustration, hope, and anger find outlets in movements that promise to upend the status quo.
The rise and seeming decline of the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), and the meteoric ascent of the MK party, are part of this dynamic — a broader pattern where voices of revolution fade, only to be replaced by new ones claiming the mantle.
In its infancy, the EFF was a tempest in South African politics. It was bold, unapologetic, and radically disruptive.
The fiery rhetoric, the iconic red berets, and the provocative policies like land expropriation without compensation drew in a generation seeking not just change, but upheaval.
For many, voting for the EFF was not about governance; it was about shaking the system to its core.
In 2015, Fees Must Fall shook the country as university students took to the streets, demanding free, decolonised education. A wellspring of grassroots frustration burst its seams against real systemic inequality. The EFF took note and immediately became an integral voice in those protests.
Their leadership joined students on the front lines of protest action, while echoing students' demands inside Parliament as they marshalled support from campuses. But that resonance with Fees Must Fall was the masterstroke into political relevance, in trying to impress the youth who were fighting so fervently for real change, epitomizing their frustrations and aspirations.
It was no education movement; it was a loud cry for equity in a nation that had just gotten rid of apartheid. The involvement of the EFF at this juncture has thus sealed its position as a party for and with the people. This was activism proper: the party's revolutionary rhetoric finding purchase in a matter deeply aligned with the lived realities of South Africans.
But protest politics is a hungry beast, demanding relentless momentum to survive. Over time, the EFF began to falter. Policies once championed as revolutionary became mired in ambiguity. The party’s stance on immigration, for instance, devolved into divisive rhetoric, alienating its base at a time of
profound economic insecurity. By the 2024 elections, the EFF appeared trapped— too enmeshed in political institutions to be revolutionary, yet too unpredictable to appeal to mainstream voters. It could fill stadiums and dominate social media, but its share of the vote remained stagnant.
What happens when the revolutionary loses their fire? What becomes of a protest movement when it softens its edge?
Into this void stepped the MK party, a phenomenon that rekindled the revolutionary spirit the EFF seemed to have lost. In a shocking debut, MKP secured an astonishing 14% of the vote, dwarfing the EFF’s first electoral showing of 6.4% in 2014. How did a party with no robust leadership or infrastructure achieve such a feat?
The answer lies in MK’s unfiltered emotional appeal. Much like the EFF in its early years, MKP tapped into the widespread anger, frustration, and disillusionment permeating the grassroots.
However, MKP’s ascent came with an added complexity: the looming figure of Jacob Zuma. Revered by some and reviled by others, Zuma’s association with MKP stirs conflicting emotions. For many, he symbolises the height of state capture, institutional decay, and the controversial Gupta years.
Yet, paradoxically, he also embodies resistance and victimhood, two narratives that continue to resonate deeply with a significant portion of the electorate.
The legacy of the July unrest in 2021 provides critical context for understanding this paradox.
Triggered by Zuma’s imprisonment, the unrest spiralled into widespread looting and violence, leaving over 300 dead and causing billions of rands in damages. Unlike the Fees Must Fall protests, which were a coherent and principled movement demanding systemic change, the July unrest weaponised genuine frustrations — poverty, inequality, and unemployment — for political ends. While Fees Must Fall sought to empower and uplift through a collective demand for justice, the July unrest unravelled into chaos that devastated communities, destroyed livelihoods, and deepened divisions.
MKP’s rise draws directly from this volatile period, turning the aftermath of the unrest into a platform, once occupied by the EFF, for political mobilisation. The unrest was not about advancing the cause of the people but a calculated play on their vulnerabilities.
Despite the devastating fallout, MKP’s narrative has successfully cast Zuma as a martyr of political persecution — a victim of a system that fails the poor and marginalised. This framing, though deeply contentious, has struck a chord with those who see in Zuma a reflection of their own struggles against a system perceived to be indifferent to their suffering.
This paradox underscores a brutal truth in politics: perception trumps reality. Zuma’s framing as a champion of the poor and a victim of political persecution resonates deeply, even as the shadow of the Guptas lingers over his legacy. Is it nostalgia, denial, or a desperate hope for redemption that fuels this loyalty?
The defection of Floyd Shivambu from the EFF to MKP has become a symbolic turning point. Once the EFF’s deputy president, Shivambu epitomised the ceiling that leaders hit in a party struggling to maintain its revolutionary edge.
MKP offered him what the EFF could no longer provide — a rising tide of momentum and the promise of relevance.
But does this switch reflect a personal gamble, or does it signify something deeper — the waning of the EFF as the natural home for protest politics?
South Africa’s current political landscape bears an uncanny resemblance to its past. In 1910, the British-aligned South African Party (SAP) sought reconciliation and unity, yet it failed to resonate with Afrikaners still scarred by the Anglo-Boer War. Enter the National Party in 1914, whose fervent nationalism, steeped in identity and pride, eclipsed the rational, pragmatic politics of the SAP.
The National Party’s eventual rise to power in 1948 demonstrated the enduring power of emotional and identity-driven politics. Rational governance strategies could not compete with the visceral appeal of movements that promised to restore dignity and address grievances.
Is MKP the modern National Party, destined to seize the zeitgeist? Or is it another fleeting phenomenon, like COPE in 2009, which flared brightly before descending into irrelevance?
As MKP’s star rises, it faces the perennial challenge of protest movements: evolving from a conduit for discontent into a credible agent of change. Can MKP transition from channelling frustration to implementing solutions? Or will it, like so many before it, crumble under the weight of its own contradictions?
The lessons of history are sobering. Movements built on emotion often struggle to sustain themselves when the adrenaline fades, and the hard work of governance begins. Will MKP defy this trajectory, or will it become another cautionary tale in South Africa’s political history?
Ultimately, the story of MKP and the EFF reveals a deeper truth about South African democracy: voters are not merely rational actors weighing policies. They are people searching for belonging, identity, and hope. They gravitate toward leaders who speak to their pain and aspirations, even if logic suggests otherwise.
If history is a guide, MKP’s rise is both a warning and a promise — a reminder of the enduring power of emotion in politics and the fleeting nature of movements that fail to turn passion into progress. Will MKP succeed where the EFF faltered, or is it destined to repeat the cycle? South Africa watches, captivated and uncertain.
* Vhahangwele Tsotetsi is an award-winning youth leader, social entrepreneur, and political consultant with a degree in Political Science and International Relations from the University of Johannesburg. As the founder of Project YouthSA, he has empowered thousands of young South Africans through innovative civic education and voter mobilisation campaigns.
** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.