This piece first appeared in The Musicist
The National Dialogue didn’t begin with the order one might expect from a societal reset. It stumbled in with cynicism, poor planning, and a kind of weary disillusionment that hung in the air like smog. Strangely, those very hiccups convinced me even more that the Dialogue is necessary. South Africa does not need another slick political display. It needs raw honesty—a place where our brokenness is admitted and acknowledged out loud. Truthfully, the fact that it was messy only made it feel real. And real is exactly what this country needs for the most important conversation we’ve had since the negotiated settlement of the 1990s.
The Symbolism of SABC at 75
What gives me hope is that this Dialogue is unfolding just as the SABC celebrates its 75th anniversary. That’s not coincidence—it’s symbolism. The SABC, for all its flaws, once functioned as our cultural glue. It gave us stories, sounds, and shows that reminded us of each other and our civic duty. It wasn’t just a broadcaster; it was a mirror, a mediator, a kind of national campfire. Families gathered for Generations’ storylines of possibility, for Jam Alley’s high-energy chaos, and for Zama Zama’s everyday dreamers.
As my old UFS classmate and SowetanLive lifestyle digital editor Thango Ntwasa once wrote, game shows and variety programmes gave families “joy and hope they could watch together.” That wasn’t just TV—it was communion. Nicolette Roman, in her co-written journal article Strengthening Family Bonds: A Systematic Review of Factors and Interventions That Enhance Family Cohesion, makes a similar point: strong, stable families cultivate empathy, cooperation, and responsibility, while fractured or dysfunctional households weaken those bonds and fuel unrest. Thango reminded us that television as a site where families once gathered and reinforced their ties wasn’t trivial—it was a cultural practice of cohesion in action and a foundation for building the social values our society so desperately needs today.
Compare that to now, where the loudest noise often comes from channels that thrive on spectacle, shock, and Americanised drama. Moja Love might be entertaining, but it doesn’t bind us. It isolates us in egocentrism. The SABC, with its mandate to educate, inform, and unite, still carries the DNA of social cohesion. In a 2017 article, Brand South Africa argued that the SABC was “promoting social cohesion” by producing shows that “address the historical and social imbalances of South Africa.” This isn’t just entertainment—it’s a social mandate, designed to build a nation through education and shared experience. As the SABC’s own genre editorial guide for educational programming points out, its purpose is to “promote social cohesion and nation-building.”
When Music Became a Map
For us to truly restore the moral fibre of our country, efforts must come from everyone. It will take the collective will of families, races, social classes, demographics, and cultural backgrounds. The truth is, we’ve done this before. The late-apartheid era was a masterclass in how music could become a music indaba—a Zulu word for a conference where everyone contributes to a common solution. Ingrid Bianca Byerly, in her 1998 article Mirror, Mediator, and Prophet, describes how the music of the second wave of protest from 1960 to 1990 was “all-inclusive, benefiting from the involvement of members of every community.”
Think back to Chicco Twala’s Peace in Our Land project in 1991. It wasn’t just a compilation album—it was a musical peace treaty. You had an improbable lineup of artists who had no business sharing a stage, let alone a song, coming together:
- Peace in Our Land: Hugh Masekela, Yvonne Chaka Chaka, Brenda Fassie, Marc Alex, P.J. Powers, Little Sister, and No Friends of Harry.
- African Solution: Mbongeni Ngema and Sindi Dlathu.
- We Are Waiting: Mango Groove.
- Together as One: Lucky Dube.
- Halala Ngoxolo: Pure Gold.
This was more than collaboration—it was a “decolonization of consciousness” in action. It was a moment where the creative arts became the “cultural weapon” Fanon wrote about, not to incite violence but to build bridges where none existed. That musical effort was the artistic twin of the National Peace Accord of 1991. The Accord, with its symbolic peace doves, was a political document, but it was the music that flew like those doves into the hearts and homes of the nation, laying the groundwork for a shared future.
And that’s what the National Dialogue must remember. Policy papers won’t stitch the moral fibre of this nation back together. But art can help. Music can. A soap opera can. A children’s show can. Because these forms are about feelings. They remind us that belonging is not an abstract idea but a lived, emotional truth.
Why Artists Deserve to Lead
It’s no accident that artists and cultural figures are part of the Eminent Persons Group leading the National Dialogue. Figures like Dr. Gcina Mhlope, Dr. John Kani, and Dr. Barbara Masekela are not just artists—they are storytellers and community builders. If politicians are the architects, artists are the heartbeat. Without them, this Dialogue risks becoming just another conference. With them, it could become a renaissance.
The role of the artist, as Byerly notes, is to “shake the people” and become “an awakener of the people” through their creative works. This is what we need now more than ever. We need to stop bickering over who is right and start working on a shared story.
So yes, the National Dialogue was messy. But life is messy. The arts teach us to sit in that mess, to make something beautiful from it. That’s why this moment matters—not because it will be perfect, but because it can be alive, like a song, like a mural, like a dove taking flight over a restless crowd. Rebuilding cohesion through the arts and media is not just nostalgia—it is the first step toward cultivating the social values and principles South Africa needs to find its common purpose again. The arts have always been our most potent tool for this. It’s time to pick it up once more.
