It is easy to lapse into reformism now, socialism (whatever that might mean) being in retreat on so many fronts. On much of the Left, the language of ‘reasonableness’ replaces the language of revolution, with those who conform to the nostrums of ‘Marxism–Leninism’ and/or ‘Trotskyism’ seeming more antiquated and naive—more ‘ultra-leftist’—than ever. Certainly in South Africa the present reality casts a dark shadow over these latter enthusiasms, any neat juxtaposition of ‘reform’ and ‘revolution’ sounding increasingly beside the point. Indeed, despite the advances epitomized in last February’s dramatic unbanning of the opposition movements and the release of Nelson Mandela, we are still very far from the future prophesied by Sweezy and Magdoff when, at the height of the insurrection of the mid 1980s, they defined South Africa as ‘the only country with a well-developed, modern capitalist structure which is not only “objectively” ripe for revolution but has actually entered a stage of overt and seemingly irreversible revolutionary struggle.’footnote1 In both the short and the longer term, the way forward to a more
In the short term? Witness the difficulties of the current political moment, one that defines itself around ‘negotiations’ and the process of shaping a new constitutional dispensation. This is the moment that many saw, in the enthusiasms of last February, as bearing the promise of (minimally) a real deracialization of capitalism and (potentially) a great deal more. Now this process itself appears flawed, grievously if not fatally, with some of those who most starkly juxtaposed the danger of ‘mere reform’ to the drive for revolution wondering aloud whether even meaningful reform is possible in the present conjuncture.footnote3 Indeed, we glimpse here a concern that must haunt any approach to contemporary South Africa. For there is, currently, a simultaneity of two distinct moments—the negotiations moment, the post-apartheid moment—in the South African historical process, a simultaneity that both clouds analysis and compromises action. Thus, even as South Africans press forward to shape the post-apartheid dispensation, they are dragged back, brutally, into the present, where continuing stalemate over the modalities of ‘democratization’ has created space for the grimmest of barbarisms—all too familiar to us from an endless spate of newspaper accounts of the ‘killing fields’ that South Africa’s townships have become. Although almost worn smooth through overuse, Gramsci’s epigram nonetheless rings cruelly true of contemporary South Africa: ‘The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born; in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appears.’
And what if the new cannot, in fact, be born; if the morbidity of the interregnum merely shows South Africans the face of their own future? We must countenance this possibility in the present article, yet, at the same time, avoid becoming fixated with it. In the immediacy of the moment South Africans must, indeed, struggle to counter the pull towards chaos in their country—the pull towards ‘Lebanization’ (as a number of sage South African observers would have it). But the best of South African militants are also struggling to build a future beyond the interregnum; to divine, to begin to shape, the
In fact, as we shall see, most of the key actors in South Africa now pay at least lip service to this latter premiss. But what has any such imperative come to imply for the Left per se? Not, for the most part, any very precipitate plunge into full-blown social revolution. Rather, at its most relevant the Left seems to be groping towards something we might choose to call ‘structural reform’. In effect, this means applying to South Africa a distinction once delineated by André Gorz between a ‘genuinely socialist policy of reforms [and] reformism of the neocapitalist or “social-democratic” type’: ‘If immediate socialism is not possible, neither is the achievement of reforms directly destructive of capitalism. [Yet] those who reject all lesser reforms on the grounds that they are merely reformist are in fact rejecting the whole possibility of a transitional strategy and of a process of transition to socialism.’footnote4 But what, within such a transition, is to distinguish ‘structural reform’ from mere ‘reformism’?
There are two chief attributes. One lies in the insistence that any reform, to be structural, must not be comfortably self-contained (a mere ‘improvement’), but must, instead, be allowed self-consciously to implicate other ‘necessary’ reforms that flow from it as part of an emerging project of structural transformation.footnote5 In Gorz’s words, any ‘intermediary reforms. . .are to be regarded as a means and not an end, as dynamic phases in a progressive struggle, not as stopping places.’footnote6 Secondly, a structural reform cannot come from on high;