FREEDOM, as George Orwell once remarked, is the right to tell people what they do not want to hear. Yet in today’s political arena, this fundamental democratic principle seems increasingly endangered.

Professional politics has become less about substantive debate and more about performative spectacle — a troubling shift that raises urgent questions about the quality of contemporary leadership.

When we compare our current political class to previous generations, the contrast could not be starker. We have entered what can only be described as an age of political pygmies — where short-term calculation trumps long-term vision, and where the notion of statesmanship appears increasingly foreign. This dramatic decline begs the question: What has happened to politicians of real stature — those rare leaders we could admire even when we disagreed with them?

At the pinnacle of South Africa’s pantheon of substantial leaders stands former president Thabo Mbeki, whose intellectual heft and oratorical prowess set him apart in a league of his own. Mbeki wasn’t merely a politician; he was that rarest of combinations: a thinker in action, a philosopher-statesman who brought scholarly depth to the rough-and-tumble world of practical politics.

Mbeki’s intellectual orientation represented something unprecedented in South African leadership. Unlike most of his predecessors (and certainly most of his successors), who relied heavily on teams of speechwriters, Mbeki crafted his own speeches — dense, nuanced treatises that engaged seriously with complex policy issues. This wasn’t just stylistic preference but reflected a fundamental difference in governing philosophy.

The contrast with today’s parliamentary culture could hardly be more pronounced. Where Mbeki’s administration prized technical expertise, we now see growing anti-intellectualism. The ANC’s internal culture, once capable of producing leaders of Mbeki’s calibre, now seems structurally incapable of nurturing similar talent.

This leadership deficit isn’t merely about individual failings but reflects deeper systemic changes in how political careers are made and sustained. Three fundamental shifts stand out.

First, the pathways to political prominence have narrowed dramatically. Where prominent figures cut their teeth in exile movements, trade unions, and civic organisations, today’s politicians often emerge from party youth leagues or parliamentary lists with little grounding in governance or policy.

Second, the nature of political parties has transformed. The ANC used to be a mass-based organisation with deep roots in communities. Today’s parties, by contrast, have become hollowed-out electoral machines, more concerned with patronage distribution than policy formulation. In such an environment, the skills that get rewarded are those of factional manoeuvring rather than statesmanship.

Third, the media landscape has fundamentally altered the qualities needed for political success. The 24-hour news cycle and social media demand constant performative politics — the ability to generate viral moments rather than substantive policy achievements. As a result, we get leaders who are media-savvy but governance-illiterate.

This leadership crisis isn’t unique to South Africa. Across established democracies, similar complaints echo. In Britain, figures such as Boris Johnson have reduced statesmanship to buffoonery. In America, President Donald Trump’s phenomenon has demonstrated how easily anti-intellectualism can capture mainstream politics.

Historical perspective offers some comfort — or perhaps a warning. The 1930s, another period of economic stress and institutional breakdown, produced similarly polarised debates about political leadership. Then as now, complaints about declining standards were widespread. Then as now, populist outsiders promised easy solutions to complex problems.

Yet history also reminds us that crises can produce extraordinary leaders. The same 1930s that gave us demagogues like Mosley also produced Churchill. The question is whether our current challenges will similarly elevate leaders of substance or simply reinforce the politics of spectacle.

Amid this rather bleak assessment, there remain pockets of hope. Naledi Pandor has demonstrated across multiple portfolios that substantive leadership is still possible. Her handling of international relations has shown that intellectual depth and diplomatic skill still matter. Similarly, figures like Zweli Mkhize and Mondli Gungubele suggest that the ANC hasn’t completely lost its capacity to produce competent leaders.

The greater concern lies in the pipeline. As President Cyril Ramaphosa and much of the ANC’s older generation prepare to exit the stage, who will replace them? The party’s failure to systematically nurture new talent suggests we may be heading for an even steeper decline in leadership quality.

* Dr Vusi Shongwe is the former head of the Department of the Royal Household and Chief Director for Heritage in the Office of the Premier. He currently serves as Chief Director of Heritage Resource Services in the Department of Sport, Arts and Culture and writes in his personal capacity.

** The views expressed here do not reflect those of the Sunday Independent, Independent Media, or IOL.

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Why are politicians of substance disappearing from South Africa?