VOICES OF THE DIASPORA: MY CRITIQUE OF THE SWAZI PROGRESSIVE MOVEMENT
A Swazi living in the diaspora gives a piercing critique of the liberation movements; pretenders to power, hollow rhetoric, and unanswered questions.
The political landscape in eSwatini is cluttered with parties claiming to represent a wide range of ideologies: from liberation movements, communists, those with military-style overtures, those blending religion with opposition politics, and pan-African parties.
Some parties promote a vague version of democracy, intertwined with traditional Swazi customs. Despite this apparent diversity, a closer inspection reveals that most if not all of their political rhetoric lacks substance. The day-to-day struggles facing the Swazi people highlight the inadequacy of the current Tinkhundla political leadership. Unemployment is at a severe crisis level, with youth unemployment standing at a staggering 60 percent.
The divide between the rich and the poor is ever-expanding. Despite being a middle-income country, 70 percent of the population is categorized as poor, leaving eSwatini as one of the most unequal nations on earth. On the side of the progressives, political parties have failed to articulate compelling alternative solutions to tackle these bread-and-butter issues and the lived reality of many a Swazi.
Successful societal transformations have typically been highly focused and far-reaching. The Mauritian Militant Movement (MMM), for example, successfully led a transformation that brought genuine political change to Mauritius, resulting in one of the most stable democracies in Africa today. This movement was marked by its clear vision for independence and economic development, which translated into concrete improvements in the quality of life for its citizens.
A protest organised in the UK by one of the diaspora movements for democracy in eSwatini
Another noteworthy example is Rwanda under Paul Kagame. Rwanda's transformation, though characterized by heavy-handed state control, has focused on stability, economic growth, and social development, making it one of Africa's most remarkable success stories. In contrast, outside of the staple critique directed at royal expenditure, eSwatini parties seem reluctant to present any bold and tangible proposals for the benefit of the people.
Instead, the most specific and often impractical proposals are now emerging from fringe groups, loudly advocating for interventions such as a Government of National Unity on social media. This lack of strategic direction is further complicated by a troubling mimicry of South African political overtures, which some of our political players within the Multi-Democratic Movement (MDM) have been rightly criticized for emulating.
More than ever before, the apparent reversals of the Mass Democratic Movement (MDM) threaten to undermine the hopes for meaningful change. While not exhaustive, a few significant trends have emerged since the unrest of July 2021.By far the most dramatic change in the prosecution of the struggle for democracy emerged with the advent of an armed militia group known as the Swaziland International Solidarity Forces.
What are we to learn from the messy aftermath of their spectacular rise and collapse? This underground military group, for a short time, induced fear and terror into the heart of the Tinkhundla regime, bringing about a never-before-seen caution to the brutality of the security forces. The story of the SISF is an important but inadequately chronicled part of our nation's history.
If we consider the public testimonies of some members of the freedom-fighting unit, the narrative that emerges is that weaknesses in the chain of these covert and revolutionary efforts can largely be attributed to the political principals in the MDM. The aftermath of the suspension of the group's activities unfolds like a Shakespearean tragedy—these men, who had operated from the shadows, rose quickly and briefly, making an impactful stand against the regime.
Their struggle, however, was fraught with severe hardships: their time in exile was marked by unimaginable difficulties, and a number of them met tragic ends. Some were captured and incarcerated, others kidnapped and illegally extradited by the state or targeted by rogue vigilantes. Reports indicate that those who remained in the 'camps' were neglected, left in a state of discontent and disillusionment.
Allegations of involvement in brutal assassinations and poisonings further cloud their legacy, adding complexity to an already tragic and convoluted chapter of the struggle. What is certain and without doubt is that the country is on a one-way trajectory to a day of political reckoning. The monarchy and the Tinkhundla system, the crown's bulwark, have lost their moral authority among the ordinary people. Culturally, King Mswati III has kept the discipline of maintaining a ceremonial calendar, and to some extent, this cultural relevance has enabled him to maintain some hold on the nation’s imagination as well as that of the international community.
One of the young eSwatini activist holds a placard in one of the protests in the country.
However, King Mswati's uninspiring leadership abilities, lack of charm and charisma, and penchant for crass material consumerism have ensured that he will never achieve the prestige that could be expected of an enigmatic cultural leader. His predecessor, King Sobhuza II, possessed a greater capacity for symbolic and spiritual influence. To this day, archived videos of King Sobhuza II giving counsel in the royal court have taken on a near-mythical quality and newfound popularity among networks on social media.
In the same vein, our pretenders to power seem to want to present themselves as godlike mythical beings among mortals. SWALIMO leader Magawugawu Simelane has heavily leaned into Christian symbolism, with his faith-based political expression often taking the form of mountaintop prayers—reminiscent of Moses and the burning bush. Not to be outdone, Mlungisi Makhanya's supporters have also started using messianic narratives.
The PUDEMO president, having found himself embroiled in an organophosphate poisoning scare—perpetrated by a known acquaintance of his and self-confessed member of the SISF, Sifiso Mahlangu—has had his rapid recovery framed in religious terms. "He slept and then he arose," was the sentiment proclaimed by Fikile Mbalula at an ANC rally held in Pretoria, where Makhanya, donned in full ANC regalia, was displayed before the South African public.
As a strategy for maintaining a personal hold on power, there are few ideas less successful for the leader and more dangerous for the people. Africa has an abundance of examples of post-independence leaders who attempted and often succeeded in elevating their individual influence into the supernatural and cult-like, with terrible consequences for ordinary citizens. After the assassination of Patrice Lumumba in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mobutu Sese Seko's kleptocratic rule, accompanied by a handy personality cult, effectively stagnated Africa's most mineral-rich country into one of its poorest and war-torn nations—a legacy that continues to this very day, nearly 27 years after his death.
Similarly, Amin of Uganda and Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe were beneficiaries of a cult of personality; all left the people in a worse condition. The Swazi MDM must ensure it does not fall into the same trap. In this political critique, perhaps no area exposes the lethargy of Swazi political formations more starkly than their glaring failure to engage meaningfully with economic discourse. It is not just a shortcoming; it reflects an aversion to intellectual work that could very well jeopardize the economic prospects in a democratic eSwatini.
Despite the Swazi economy's long-standing vulnerabilities—marked by the ceding of monetary our sovereignty to South Africa through the Common Monetary Area (CMA) and our perennial dependence on the volatile SACU revenue-sharing scheme—there remains an astonishing lack of opposing economic thought. The little macroeconomic thinking that surfaces seems intent on imitating the failed neoliberal policies that have left South Africa grappling with economic stagnation three decades into its democracy.
Worse still, the Swazi MDM has failed to articulate any coherent alternative. Instead of seizing this critical moment to redefine the country’s economic trajectory, the political opposition has become preoccupied with superficial critiques of the monarchy’s extravagance. While this focus may stir popular anger, it fails to present a meaningful path toward structural transformation or economic empowerment for ordinary citizens. This absence of an economic vision is not merely unfortunate—it is lamentable. Economic discourse is the lifeblood of a nation’s future, and its absence reflects a deeper malaise within Swazi politics: an aversion to the hard work of crafting policy.
A pictorial representation of the armed militia group called Swaziland International Solidarity Forces.
With the exception, perhaps, of the Communist Party of Swaziland, the posture across the political spectrum seems to rest on guesswork, driven more by rhetoric than by rigor. The real tragedy is not just the lack of economic vision but the glaring lack of ambition to even entertain the conversation. Whether Swaziland should pursue a free-market economy, centrally planned socialism, a mixed economy, state capitalism, or some hybrid approach is not up for debate—not because answers are elusive, but because the question itself remains unasked. Whether we obtain relief from King Mswati III’s dictatorship or not, this intellectual void will leave Swaziland caught in a loop of economic dependency and stagnation, its leaders unwilling or unable to imagine a different future.
The resilience of the Tinkhundla system, however oppressive, lies in its organization, which penetrates deeply into the lived existence of ordinary people. The protest movement of 2021 set the brakes on this hold on society, where for the first time, we saw royal ceremonies like Umhlanga actively boycotted by the population. This collective action sent a clear and resounding message: the Swazi people were deeply dissatisfied with the monarchy. Furthermore, civil society and the political opposition wielded significant influence for a short time, even going as far as imposing an unofficial holiday on June 29, 2022.However, the tide appears to have shifted over the past two ceremonial cycles.
Attendance at royal ceremonies, including Umhlanga and Lusekwane, has gradually increased, signaling a return to the monarchy’s cultural influence. It is likely that the democratic forces, consumed by their infighting, cost themselves the confidence of the people. The conclusion to be reached is that an orderly but oppressive Tinkhundla system is better than the uncertainty of a disorganized democracy. Political parties have not demonstrated the intellectual courage to make firm and comprehensive proposals on practical matters, nor have they continuously persuaded the public on contentious political issues. Instead, we have witnessed a display of intellectual laziness, hiding behind the mantra "The people will decide" in an environment where significant questions remain without being adequately addressed.
Questions related to the economic model the country will pursue, the nature and extent of Swaziland's economic and political integration with South Africa, the envisaged democratic electoral system, and the role and function of traditional structures, including Swaziland's 385-odd chiefdoms and their attendant substructures, must be incorporated into a capable and functional state. By kicking the can down the road, political parties avoid troublesome questions for the time being, as well as any accountability in their own actions, because the important decisions will be made at the "right time."
This approach does not bode well for the rest of us. If the struggle to redefine Swaziland's political landscape is to succeed, it must include a commitment to critique itself while offering actionable solutions. This political critique, while not comprehensive, comes with a few ideas for the Mass Democratic Movement (MDM), though these ideas remain rough and in need of refinement. Without a sound moral and ethical foundation, the MDM can achieve little. If the struggle is to reclaim the moral high ground, the painful process of obtaining factual information from the convoluted narratives surrounding the beginning, operations, and eventual demise of the SISF is required.
To this end, the promise for justice, atonement, and redemption is the ensuing investigation by the South African police into the brutal assassination of Bheka Magagula and the ongoing investigation into the abduction and trafficking of Thabo Kunene from South Africa into Swaziland. Ordinary activists in the MDM should seek to cultivate an appropriate suspicion of demagoguery and of political leaders who dabble in dangerous self-glorification, while maintaining a fundamental trust in our shared vision for a democratic Swaziland.
African history has taught us that the risks of elevating compromised individuals come with severe and long-term consequences. If the struggle to liberate us and better the conditions of the Swazi people is to be maintained, in periods of reversal and stagnation such as these, it is necessary that the struggle should regularly sanitize itself and cleanse itself of bad characters, ideas, and practices. Given Swaziland's unique political trajectory, cultural and traditional considerations must also be at the forefront of the MDM's agenda. Reform must not come at the cost of erasing valuable Swazi customs and cultural heritage. The MDM needs to clearly articulate how cultural traditions will be preserved and respected within a new political framework.
This commitment to cultural preservation will build trust among traditionalists and help alleviate fears that change will strip away Swazi identity. Political parties must also seek to take a definitive and courageous stance on the role of the monarchy and the traditional power structures. The monarchy is a central institution in Swaziland, and any attempt at political reform that ignores it is inherently incomplete. Parties must openly address how they envision the monarchy coexisting with democratic reforms. To avoid this conversation is to avoid the very heart of Swaziland's political dilemma. Lastly, political parties must begin to pivot away from surface-level analysis of important considerations such as the economy.
The MDM must develop viable proposals for the future of the country and allow these proposals to be subjected to criticism. These proposals must be of clear economic intent, pragmatic, and implementable—not just rhetoric. The question we pose to the reader remains: will any of our political movements rise to the occasion and offer a clear, strategic vision that genuinely speaks to the needs and fears of the Swazi people? Or will the hollow rhetoric continue, leaving Swaziland's citizens in limbo—yearning for meaningful change?
Perhaps this explains why at the heart of the uprising when the MDM organised by far the biggest march in contemporary history—10+ people—to the USA embassy, the Ambassor asked: how exactly do you plan to govern this country?