Dialogues about what constitutes a failed state are necessary conversations in any democracy. More especially so in democracies that are prosperous and consider themselves immune to a possible future failed-state scenario.
On April 27, 1994, in a small community centre in Mitchells Plain, at the age of 33, I cast my first ballot.
As I entered the booth and opened the ballot paper, tears started streaming down my eyes.
At that moment, I believed that we had become the greatest country on Earth. I thought back to that fateful day in 1985 when my 12-year-old neighbour in Shepherd Way was killed by riot police.
I thought of how I drove his parents to the mortuary in Salt River later that day to go and identify his body.
I thought of my own 1-year-old daughter who was in a pram next to me in the booth. All across the country there must have been similar moments. I was surprised at how enormously pain-infused, with incredible energy, it was to construct the world's newest democracy.
Sadly, I don't sense that energy anymore. The “rainbow-nation” concept was an emotionally-charged aspirational statement. It brought additional energy to all the other “greatest country on Earth” ideas.
In 2020, we are sadly a country united only by its Constitution.
In every other way, we are an extremely divided country. We have not invested enough energy into making diversity a treasured value, but have allowed opportunists to weaponise it. The absence of a valued diversity is turning this strength of ours into an exercise of temperamental vengeance. It is horrible to see.
In 1994, we committed ourselves to become a democracy of hard-won inclusivity and not arrogant
retribution.
Our political classes, instead of listening and learning, continue to advance the destabilising effect of individualistic partisan logic instead of a nationally-valued common good.
We get dished out dollops of equally-distasteful dishes by the hordes of chefs in the party kitchen, depending on which table you are seated at.
None of our political parties have matured to the point where they are leading people well who did not vote for them.
That, sadly, is one of the early triggers of a future failed state. When your ascension to power is only about your group's interests and you only serve your voters and not the common good, then you are a contributor to us becoming a future failed state.
A great government shows it is able to provide valued leadership to its loyalists and to its opposition.
Good governments understand the interconnectedness of everything: of security to prosperity to education to public transport to infant mortality to economic growth to clean streets.
When elections have to be patrolled by riot police then you know, that while you were in power, you did not serve the people who did not vote for you as well as you served your own.
What will wake us up from this partisan delusion? There are many ideas. Here's one: It is possible to design governance systems than eliminate violence as a political response.
Here's another more practical one: I have never worn party-political apparel. I believe they are subliminal contributors to the failed state and conveys the message of partisan
leadership.
Imagine for a moment that the name of the party was a side issue to its policies. Imagine how amazing our conversations would be if we could talk about policies instead of parties?
My own awakening believes that one day it will be possible to directly elect our president, premiers, mayors and ministers, as well as the person who represents my neighbourhood.
As ancient democracy heaves under the heavy strains of collapsing systems lead by ill-informed political classes, somewhere out there ideas are breeding of new systems that will give us not just a great country, but a valued lived experience.
* Lorenzo A Davids is chief executive of the Community Chest.
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.