Revolution: Chapter Nine

 

(Image: Ideogram)

Chapter 9 – The Housing Drive: Building Dignity

By the third anniversary of the September Revolution, the Council’s achievements in restoring governance, stabilising the economy, and revitalising education had begun to bear fruit. Yet, as Harvey Jacobs repeatedly emphasised, “a nation cannot be said to have risen while its people still live in shacks.”

Nowhere was the legacy of inequality and state failure more visible than in the sprawling informal settlements that ringed South Africa’s cities. From Khayelitsha to Alexandra, from Umlazi to Galeshewe, millions of people continued to live without proper housing, sanitation, or ownership. It was, as Jacobs described in his 2029 National Address, “a visible wound on the conscience of the Republic.”

The Announcement

In that landmark address, Jacobs spoke plainly.

“We have rebuilt our institutions, we have begun to heal our schools and streets, but still our people live without walls strong enough to protect a child from the cold. This must end — not through handouts, but through the creation of opportunity. Over the next ten years, every South African family will be given the means to own a home built on dignity, not despair.”

The plan he unveiled became known as the National Housing and Infrastructure Drive (NHID) — an ambitious ten-year programme designed to transform both the built environment and the economy itself.

A Financial Innovation

At its heart lay a bold financial principle: state-guaranteed, low-interest mortgages issued through commercial banks.

The Council recognised that access to finance, not a lack of will or labour, was the main obstacle to home ownership among the working poor. Under the NHID, the government would provide long-term guarantees on mortgages for first-time buyers who met strict vetting criteria — proof of employment, a clean credit record, and a commitment to community standards.

This was not a giveaway. Each homeowner would contribute according to ability, but with interest rates capped at levels affordable even to low-income earners. The state guarantee meant that banks could lend safely, while borrowers gained access to credit markets previously closed to them.

Economists debated the plan intensely. Some warned of risk to public finances, but Cooper-Smith and the Treasury team argued that the long-term benefits outweighed the exposure. The construction boom, they reasoned, would stimulate demand across multiple sectors — steel, cement, timber, transport, and retail — generating revenue that would offset the guarantees.

Within six months of the announcement, the first pilot projects broke ground outside Johannesburg, Durban, and Bloemfontein.

Employment Through Construction

The NHID was more than a housing scheme; it was a national employment engine. Construction sites became hubs of work for previously unemployed youth, tradesmen, and suppliers.

By late 2029, over 400,000 workers were employed directly or indirectly in the housing and infrastructure sectors. Training programmes expanded to keep pace — bricklaying, plumbing, and electrical installation became high-demand trades, taught at new technical colleges built under the education reforms.

Each house built represented not just shelter, but a chain of productive activity linking dozens of industries.

Infrastructure and Community Design

The Council also rejected the old model of peripheral, dormitory-style housing. Instead, new developments were planned as integrated communities — complete with schools, clinics, libraries, and public transport links.

Urban planners emphasised walkability and green spaces. Where possible, renewable energy solutions such as solar micro-grids and water recycling systems were incorporated into designs.

The programme’s slogan — “Homes, not huts; communities, not camps” — captured its ethos of permanence and dignity.

Vetting and Oversight

To prevent corruption — the plague that had crippled previous housing programmes — the process was tightly monitored. The newly established Housing Integrity Board oversaw vetting and allocation, while the Community Liaison Officers (CLOs) played a crucial role in assisting applicants and ensuring transparency.

Each applicant underwent a background check and was required to attend workshops on ownership responsibilities, maintenance, and community governance. Fraudulent applications were prosecuted swiftly, sending a strong message that the new era would not tolerate the old habits.

Jacobs made the point repeatedly:

“This is not charity. It is a partnership between citizen and state. A house built on deceit will not stand.”

Economic and Social Effects

The economic impact was immediate. Demand for building materials surged, factories reopened, and transport companies expanded to meet logistical needs. The construction boom alone contributed nearly two percentage points to GDP growth by 2030.

At the same time, the social transformation was profound. Families that had spent decades in informal dwellings now possessed addresses, deeds, and a tangible stake in society. With ownership came pride, stability, and a visible reduction in crime and social unrest.

In many settlements, residents who once relied on illegal connections now paid for electricity and water. Local entrepreneurship flourished — spaza shops became supermarkets, backyard mechanics formalised their workshops, and small parks replaced refuse dumps.

Feasibility and Advantages

International observers were initially sceptical. The idea of guaranteeing millions of mortgages in a developing country seemed risky. But South Africa’s macroeconomic discipline — low external debt, careful monetary management, and strong export earnings — gave it the fiscal room to experiment.

Moreover, the multiplier effect of housing was undeniable. Every home built generated sustained economic activity across at least six other sectors. Studies later estimated that for every rand invested, the state gained 1.7 rand in economic return.

It was, in effect, a self-sustaining cycle of dignity and productivity.

A Moral Imperative

Jacobs saw the NHID as more than an economic policy — it was a moral one.

“For too long,” he told the National Assembly, “we have spoken of freedom while millions lived in bondage to poverty. True liberty begins when a family closes the door of its own home at night and knows that it is safe, secure, and theirs.”

Warning Against Corruption

The President ended his address with a characteristic warning — calm but unmistakable:

“This opportunity will not be stolen. Those who attempt to cheat, forge, or defraud this programme will face the full weight of the law. The house you take dishonestly today will be taken from you tomorrow. The age of impunity is over.”

The nation listened — and, for the most part, believed him.

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By the end of 2030, the first 150,000 homes had been completed. Rows of neat brick houses rose where tin shacks had once stood, and for the first time in a generation, the South African skyline seemed to reflect renewal rather than ruin.

The Revolution, now entering its mature phase, was beginning to deliver the tangible symbols of its promise: roofs over heads, ownership in hearts, and hope beneath every foundation stone.

 

Revolution:Chapter Eight

 

Chapter 8 – The Rebirth of Learning

By the second year of the Council’s stewardship, it had become evident that South Africa’s future depended not merely on political stability or economic revival, but on the quality of its education system.

In meeting after meeting, analysts repeated the same statistics: over 80% of public schools were classified as underperforming; literacy and numeracy levels had collapsed to among the lowest in the developing world; and entire generations of young people were leaving school unable to read, write, or calculate at the most basic level.

Harvey Jacobs often remarked that “no nation can be more prosperous than its classrooms.” Education, he insisted, was not a social service — it was the foundation of national survival.

Clearing Away the Ruins

The first task was a candid assessment of what had gone wrong. The Council’s Education Committee, chaired by Dr. Ayesha Lategan — a former university vice-chancellor known for her rigorous integrity — conducted a sweeping audit of the system.

The findings were grim. Schools had been used as political patronage networks. Procurement corruption had diverted funds meant for textbooks and infrastructure. Teacher absenteeism averaged 20% in some provinces, and training colleges that once produced competent educators had been closed during the austerity years.

The Council concluded that reform could not be piecemeal. It required a complete redesign of the state education system.

Partnership with the Private Sector

Recognising the limits of the public sector, the Council turned to private education providers. By 2028, South Africa already had a burgeoning network of independent and low-fee private schools serving nearly 15% of all learners. Many of these institutions — from urban academies to rural cooperatives — had achieved excellent results despite minimal government support.

Rather than viewing them as competitors, the new administration saw them as partners. Under the Public-Private Education Compact (PPEC), signed in mid-2028, these schools were integrated into a national framework of standards and accountability. The state would subsidise enrolments for low-income families, while private institutions shared best practices in management, teacher training, and assessment.

The move was controversial at first, but results were immediate: overcrowded government schools were relieved of pressure, and parental choice expanded dramatically.

Restoring the Teaching Profession

At the heart of the reform was the revival of teacher training. Between 2028 and 2030, fifteen new teacher training colleges were planned and constructed, with many built on the grounds of defunct campuses from the apartheid era. These new institutions combined traditional pedagogy with modern digital methods.

An aggressive recruitment drive targeted both university graduates and mid-career professionals willing to retrain as educators. Incentives included bursaries, housing allowances, and guaranteed placement in rural areas.

By the end of 2030, the country had added nearly 45,000 new teachers, while a strict national competency exam ensured that only qualified candidates entered the classroom.

New Philosophies for a New Society

The Council did not merely want better schools — it wanted better citizens.

Drawing on advice from education theorists and child psychologists, it introduced the Montessori system for the first four years of primary schooling. This child-centred approach, with its emphasis on curiosity, independence, and sensory learning, replaced rote memorisation with exploration and problem-solving.

Pilot projects showed striking results: within one year, literacy rates in Montessori-based classrooms were 40% higher than those following the old state curriculum. Teachers reported greater engagement and fewer behavioural problems.

The Council also restored neglected areas of cultural education. Music and drama appreciation, once dismissed as “non-essential,” returned to the syllabus. Research had shown that arts education improved empathy, concentration, and discipline — qualities that a divided society sorely needed.

A Multilingual Nation

Another bold reform addressed the country’s linguistic divides. All white, Coloured, and Indian learners were now required to study an African language up to matric level. This, Jacobs argued, was about more than communication — it was about cohesion.

“A people who can speak to one another,” he told the National Education Summit, “will find it harder to hate one another.”

African language teachers were recruited and trained at scale, and within three years, every high school in the country offered at least one indigenous language as a core subject.

Literacy, Libraries, and Learning Culture

The Council launched a national literacy campaign, rebuilding libraries in rural towns and townships. By 2030, more than 600 community libraries had been refurbished or newly established, each linked to mobile digital networks providing e-books and open-source educational material.

Reading competitions, storytelling festivals, and adult literacy drives rekindled a culture of reading that had been lost in decades of decline.

Preparing for Life and Work

Recognising that education must prepare young people for life beyond school, the curriculum was broadened to include driving instruction and technical skills training.

By learning to drive responsibly before leaving school, learners entered adulthood with discipline and practical ability — a change that dramatically reduced road accidents. Within four years, the Road Safety Bureau recorded a 30% decline in fatal collisions, saving thousands of lives and billions in medical and insurance costs.

At the same time, vocational training centres were expanded to feed the growing demand for skilled artisans in construction, manufacturing, and infrastructure development. These centres produced electricians, welders, and mechanics who became the backbone of the new industrial boom.

The Early Results

By the fifth year of the Revolution, the education system was showing measurable improvement. National literacy rates rose by 15%, and dropout rates began to decline for the first time in two decades. The number of students entering tertiary education increased sharply, with technical colleges absorbing much of the new demand.

Foreign observers, once dismissive of South Africa’s prospects, began to cite the country as a model for post-crisis recovery through educational investment.

A Foundation Restored

In a televised address marking the third anniversary of the Council’s rule, Jacobs summarised the transformation:

“We inherited a generation betrayed by neglect. We will leave behind a generation awakened by learning.”

Education, he said, was not merely a reform — it was the Revolution’s moral centre, the instrument by which equality could be achieved not through policy, but through competence.

 

 

Revolution: Chapter Seven

 (Image: Reve)

Chapter 7 – Summary One: The Early Reforms

By the close of 2027, a year after the September Intervention, the effects of the Council’s reforms had begun to reshape South African society in visible and measurable ways. While challenges persisted — especially in housing, education, and rural poverty — there was a growing sense that the machinery of government was finally moving with purpose and direction.

Ending the Politics of Patronage

One of the earliest and most consequential policy shifts was the abolition of Affirmative Action and Black Economic Empowerment (BEE). These programmes, once conceived as instruments of redress, had over time become mechanisms of enrichment and exclusion.

The Council’s own audit, later published as the Jacobs White Paper on Equity, found that less than 5% of BEE beneficiaries had come from genuinely disadvantaged backgrounds. The rest were politically connected elites who used their proximity to power to extract rents from public contracts, often without adding productive value.

The Council concluded that these policies had entrenched dependency and division rather than promoting equality. As Jacobs remarked in one meeting:

“Empowerment is not a gift from government; it is the ability to compete freely, without corruption and without fear.”

With their repeal, the economy began to open up. Procurement processes were simplified, investment regulations liberalised, and new legislation ensured that contracts were awarded purely on merit and capacity. Within six months, reports from the Chamber of Commerce showed a dramatic surge of business confidence.

The Return of Investment

By early 2028, a wave of foreign investment began to flow back into South Africa. Firms from Europe, Asia, and North America, long deterred by corruption and racial quotas, returned to re-establish partnerships in mining, manufacturing, and logistics.

New industrial parks were developed near Durban and Port Elizabeth, where once-idle warehouses thrummed again with production. The stock market rose steadily, the rand strengthened, and exports climbed as global confidence returned.

The Council’s economists credited this not only to deregulation but to a restoration of basic trust — a government perceived as competent, honest, and committed to the rule of law.

Mobilising the Educated Unemployed

At the same time, the Council launched an initiative that would become one of its most successful and widely praised reforms: the creation of a new cadre of Community Liaison Officers (CLOs).

The idea emerged from a report presented by a team of sociologists and educators who warned that unemployment among graduates — especially in the social sciences and humanities — was approaching crisis levels. Thousands of educated young people, trained in communication and analysis, were languishing without purpose.

Rather than viewing them as a burden, the Council saw an opportunity.

In early 2028, it authorised the recruitment and training of 250,000 unemployed graduates. They underwent a three-month course in data capture, digital systems, and basic social work, coordinated by the Department of Public Administration. Upon completion, they were deployed across the nation’s provinces as Community Liaison Officers.

Their mission was twofold:

1. To gather detailed, ground-level data on the needs, resources, and aspirations of every community — from informal settlements to remote villages. Each CLO was equipped with a tablet linked to a central database, allowing real-time mapping of poverty, unemployment, and infrastructure gaps.
2. To act as bridges between citizens and the state, explaining new government programmes, employment opportunities, and civic responsibilities. They also monitored the distribution of the Basic Income Grant and ensured that corruption or double-dipping was reported swiftly.

The results were immediate and profound. For the first time in living memory, government decisions were based on accurate, localised data rather than outdated statistics. Communities that had once felt ignored now had a direct channel to the state.

As one newspaper editorial put it: “The government is finally listening — and the people know it.”

A Nation Renewed

These early reforms created a self-reinforcing cycle. The return of investment generated jobs; the Community Liaison network ensured that information and opportunity reached the grassroots; and the Basic Income Grant provided a floor beneath which no citizen could fall.

The crime rate dropped sharply as steady income and visible policing restored community stability. Informal traders began to flourish again, and taxi routes, once plagued by turf wars, were regulated and subsidised to encourage cooperation rather than conflict.

Above all, there was a perceptible shift in mood. Newspapers that had once printed daily tales of scandal now carried reports of restored hospitals, reopened factories, and newly paved roads. A public opinion poll conducted by the Institute for Civic Studies in late 2028 found that 78% of citizens believed the country was “moving in the right direction.”

The Quiet Transformation

The Council remained cautious. Jacobs often warned his colleagues that early success could breed complacency. “We are not yet healed,” he reminded them, “we are merely breathing again.”

But even he admitted that the change in national temperament was remarkable. For the first time in a generation, hope outweighed cynicism.

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By the end of the first full year after the coup, the foundations of renewal were firmly in place: a cleaner government, a revitalised economy, and a society beginning to believe in itself again. The Revolution had moved from survival to reconstruction — from the act of taking power to the far more complex work of wielding it wisely.

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Revolution: Chapter Six

 

  

(Image: Ideogram)

 Chapter 6 – The Second Address to the Nation

The Second Address to the Nation, delivered on 15 December 2026, was the most widely watched broadcast in South Africa’s modern history. By then, the shock of the September Intervention had faded into a cautious acceptance. Ordinary citizens, though still wary of the Council’s extraordinary powers, could not deny that the streets were safer, electricity supply steadier, and salaries once again being paid on time.

Dr Harvey Jacobs appeared before the cameras in the same understated style that had come to define his leadership — no uniform, no medals, only a dark suit and the national flag behind him. Beside him stood Minister Sakena Moloketsi, the embodiment of justice and reform. Together they would announce the government’s next phase: stability through justice and work.

The Address

“Fellow South Africans,” Jacobs began, his voice steady and deliberate,
“Three months ago, we took a step that no one desired but everyone knew was inevitable. We acted because your country had reached the edge of collapse. Today, I stand before you to report that South Africa is still standing — and beginning, at last, to walk forward.”

He outlined the Council’s accomplishments: the end of rampant cable theft, the dismantling of criminal syndicates, and the stabilisation of the banking system. He then moved to the subject that most citizens cared about — jobs.

“Our greatest wealth has always been our people. Yet for too long, millions of able-bodied men and women have been idle while our roads crumble and our towns decay. We are changing that. The new policy of development finance allows us to fund work — real work — not through debt to foreign banks, but through the strength of our own hands and hearts. This is not reckless spending; it is purposeful investment. We are creating money that builds, not money that burns.”

Jacobs explained debt monetisation in the simplest possible terms:

“When we build a bridge, a school, or a clinic, we create something of value that strengthens our nation. The currency that pays for that work is backed by the asset itself — by the bridge, the school, the clinic. That is how a sovereign country uses its own strength to rebuild.”

He described the early results: over a million people employed in public works and construction, new contracts for local manufacturers, and the reopening of training colleges. Inflation, he said, remained under control because “we are increasing the number of goods and services at the same time as the number of rands in circulation.”

“Every worker who earns an income buys food from a farmer, clothes from a factory, and transport from a driver. That money circulates and multiplies. That is how an economy heals itself — not from the top down, but from the ground up.”

He paused, letting the words settle.
Then he addressed the principle that underpinned the Council’s philosophy: rights and obligations.

“Every citizen has the right to safety, to food, to work, to dignity. But every citizen also has the obligation to respect the law, to protect the vulnerable, and to contribute to the rebuilding of our nation. Freedom without responsibility is an empty slogan. We must prove, by our actions, that we deserve the freedom we claim.”

Jacobs then turned to the topic of law and order, inviting Minister Sakena Moloketsi to speak.

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Minister Moloketsi’s Statement

Moloketsi’s address was calm but firm, her tone that of a jurist addressing a courtroom rather than a crowd.

“My fellow citizens,” she said, “for years you have lived in fear — fear of crime, of corruption, of being failed by those sworn to protect you. That time is ending.”

She outlined the extensive reform of the police and justice system. Thousands of officers had been vetted; hundreds dismissed or prosecuted for corruption. Training academies were reopened to instill professionalism and respect for human rights.

“We are purging the service of the bad and honouring the good. The police of the new South Africa will not be feared; they will be trusted.”

She described new special courts created to expedite cases and end the endless cycle of appeals that had clogged the justice system. The suspension of appeal rights, she explained, was temporary but necessary to restore speed and certainty.

“Justice delayed,” she said, “is justice denied. For too long, criminals have mocked the system by appealing again and again while their victims wait for years. That ends now.”

Moloketsi then addressed gangs, syndicates, and organised crime. Operations across the country had seized illegal firearms, shut down drug laboratories, and broken extortion networks. Dozens of ringleaders were under arrest.

“But policing alone cannot save us,” she continued. “Safety is everyone’s responsibility. If you know of criminal activity, report it. Do not buy stolen goods. Every rand spent on stolen copper, every drop of fuel from a hijacked truck, helps destroy your own community. We are asking you to take back your streets, your homes, your future.”

Finally, she spoke with passion about Gender-Based Violence and the protection of the vulnerable. New legislation, drafted under her supervision, established special courts for GBV cases and guaranteed psychological and medical support for survivors.

“A society is measured not by how it treats the powerful, but by how it protects those who cannot protect themselves,” she declared. “We will no longer tolerate the culture of silence and impunity.”

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Closing Remarks

When Moloketsi finished, Jacobs returned to the podium. His closing words were concise, resolute, and hopeful:

“We are not the masters of South Africa — we are its servants. The Council has no desire to rule forever. We exist only to repair what was broken and to hand back a nation stronger than before. But until that day, we ask for your cooperation, your discipline, and your trust. Together, we are proving that freedom and order can coexist — that law can be both firm and fair, and that justice can walk hand in hand with compassion.”

He ended with a line that would be replayed countless times in the years ahead:

“The law protects the people, and the people protect the law.”

The broadcast concluded with the national flag displayed against the rising sun over Pretoria, a symbolic image that would soon become emblematic of the Reconstruction Period.

Public reaction was overwhelmingly positive. Communities reported a renewed sense of confidence; crime rates fell further; and, for the first time in years, optimism began to replace cynicism. The address was widely seen as the moment when the Council’s rule shifted from provisional to purposeful — when the revolution ceased to be merely an act of rescue and became an act of rebuilding.

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Revolution: Chapter Five

(Image: Ideogram)

Chapter 5 – The Second Council Meeting

The Second Council Meeting, held on 2 November 2026, marked the beginning of serious economic deliberation. The immediate crisis of security had been contained, and public order was gradually returning. Now came the deeper and more dangerous challenge: how to rebuild an economy hollowed out by decades of corruption, mismanagement, and policy confusion.

A Country Ready to Work, But Nothing to Do

The Council’s briefing papers painted a stark picture. Unemployment remained the single greatest threat to stability. Of the country’s 40 million working-age citizens, over 12 million were without jobs. Entire communities had been stripped of dignity and purpose. Factories stood silent, farms operated below capacity, and townships seethed with restless energy.

Dr. Harvey Jacobs, opening the meeting, put the question bluntly:

“How is it,” he asked, “that a nation so rich in talent and resources cannot find work for its people, when so much remains to be built?”

The answer, as the Council’s analysts made clear, lay in the structure of finance and state policy. Infrastructure projects had been choked by red tape and political gatekeeping. Private investment had dried up amid regulatory uncertainty. Municipalities were bankrupt. The state, crippled by debt and dependent on foreign lenders, had lost the power to direct national development.

The Debate Begins

It was Professor Nigel Cooper-Smith, the economist whose reputation for intellectual independence had earned him broad respect, who framed the problem most forcefully. Standing before the Council’s semicircular chamber, he declared that the neoliberal orthodoxy of the previous three decades had failed South Africa.

“We have treated money as a god, not a tool,” he said. “We worship the bond market while our people starve. The time has come to remember that a sovereign nation need not beg for its own currency.”

Cooper-Smith proposed what he called “developmental monetisation” — a carefully controlled expansion of the money supply to fund productive employment and infrastructure. In simple terms, the state would create credit — not through reckless printing, but through central-bank issuance tied directly to labour-intensive public works.

His argument drew sharp responses. Andries Marais, representing the business sector, warned that uncontrolled debt creation could trigger inflation and currency collapse. “We cannot afford to frighten investors,” he said. “Confidence is everything.”

Moloketsi, now one of Jacobs’s closest advisors, countered that confidence was meaningless if millions remained hungry. “What investor will come to a land where the poor have nothing to lose?” she asked.

Reimagining the Economic Engine

Cooper-Smith’s model was methodical rather than utopian. The Reserve Bank would purchase long-term government bonds specifically issued for developmental purposes — housing, infrastructure, training, and industrial renewal. Funds would flow directly to vetted projects with measurable outputs, not to bureaucratic sinkholes.

To control inflation, production would be expanded simultaneously with spending. Idle factories would be reopened, raw materials locally sourced, and imports reduced. Wages would grow only in tandem with productivity. Taxes would later absorb excess liquidity once the economy stabilised.

In essence, South Africa would create money for work, not for consumption. Every rand issued would correspond to a tangible public asset — a road, a school, a power line.

The debate lasted two days and was often heated. Economists warned of historical precedents—Zimbabwe, Argentina, Weimar Germany—but Cooper-Smith replied that South Africa’s situation was unique: “We are not printing money to buy loyalty or luxuries. We are investing in our own capacity to produce.”

The Council’s Compromise

On the third day, Jacobs called for a vote of principle. His speech, later quoted in textbooks on modern South African governance, captured the moment’s moral urgency:

“We have lived too long under the tyranny of fear — fear of markets, fear of ratings agencies, fear of our own shadow. But poverty is the greatest inflation of all: it devalues human life. We must dare to use the instruments of the state to serve the people who built it.”

The Council voted thirty-eight to twelve in favour of adopting the policy, under strict safeguards. The Development Finance Act (Interim) was drafted that same month, establishing a national infrastructure fund backed by Reserve Bank credit. Oversight would rest with a mixed board of economists, engineers, and civil-society representatives.

Implementation

Within weeks, dormant projects were revived. Road repair crews reappeared on national highways; housing foundations were poured in townships; water pipelines were restored in drought-stricken areas. The sight of cranes and construction teams became symbols of renewal.

By early 2027, employment in public works had risen by nearly a million, triggering secondary growth in transport, retail, and services. Inflation edged upward but remained within single digits, thanks to rising domestic production. The rand held steady.

A Turning Point

The adoption of debt monetisation marked a philosophical turning point in post-coup South Africa. It represented a break not only from the failed neoliberal past but also from the fatalism that had paralysed the state. Citizens began to believe that purposeful government was possible.

The Second Council Meeting ended with Jacobs’s quiet summation:

“We are not gambling with the future,” he said. “We are reclaiming it.”

In that moment, the outlines of a new economic order began to take shape — one rooted not in ideology, but in the stubborn conviction that a nation’s first duty is to employ its people.

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Revolution Chapter Four

 

(Iage: tEVE)

Chapter 4 – The First Council Meeting

The first full meeting of the Council for National Renewal convened at the Union Buildings on 18 September 2026, eleven days after the coup. The atmosphere was both solemn and invigorating. For the first time in decades, South Africa’s central chambers were filled not with political loyalists but with scholars, professionals, and civic leaders drawn from every province and community. The media were not permitted to attend, yet detailed minutes were later published to mark the session’s historical importance.

The agenda was formidable: the rationalisation of government, emergency law enforcement, and the immediate restoration of administrative efficiency.

Dr. Harvey Jacobs opened the proceedings with characteristic restraint. He reminded the Council that they had acted not as usurpers but as custodians of a failing state, and that legitimacy could be earned only through service, not declarations. “If we repeat the mistakes of the past,” he said, “then we will have proved our critics right—that South Africans can overthrow tyranny only to rebuild it in a different shape.”

Dissolution of the Cabinet

The first resolution passed without opposition. The bloated 75-member cabinet, a relic of years of patronage politics, was formally dissolved and replaced by a streamlined team of 30 ministers overseeing newly merged departments. Each ministry was to be headed by a subject-matter expert rather than a party functionary.

Jacobs described the old system as “a monument to political corruption,” explaining that cabinet expansion had long been used to reward loyalty, silence dissent, and maintain internal control within the ruling party. By multiplying ministries, the ANC had created sinecures—positions that drained the public purse while paralysing decision-making. The Council’s new configuration, by contrast, aimed for efficiency and clear accountability.

For continuity, departmental directors and senior civil servants were temporarily retained, though political appointees would face review. The Public Service Commission was empowered to audit all senior posts and identify incompetence or nepotism.

Law and Order

The second resolution, designated Priority One, concerned the restoration of public security. With crime spiralling and faith in policing almost destroyed, the Council resolved to rebuild the justice system from the top down.

Sakena Moloketsi—a legal scholar and former public advocate, admired nationwide for her integrity—was appointed Minister of Justice and Police. Her brief was sweeping: to unify the criminal justice institutions under a single operational command, to purge the police and prosecution services of corrupt officers, and to restore swift, impartial justice.

Under Moloketsi’s leadership, the Council declared that the right of appeal in criminal cases would be temporarily suspended, a drastic but necessary measure. Appeals, she argued, had become a “shield for the wealthy and the corrupt,” enabling endless delays and manipulation. Instead, cases would be handled by special fast-track courts with oversight from panels of senior jurists.

Combating Infrastructure Theft

Another resolution targeted what was euphemistically called infrastructure vandalism—the systematic theft of copper cables, railway lines, and power components. The Council redefined such crimes as economic sabotage carrying severe penalties.

The scrap-metal industry was placed under emergency regulation; dealing in copper was temporarily outlawed. As Moloketsi explained: “There is no incentive to steal what cannot be sold.” Enforcement teams combining police, military engineers, and private-security personnel began nationwide raids on illegal scrapyards and transport hubs within weeks.

The Campaign Against Organised Crime

The Council also approved Operation Phoenix, a coordinated effort to neutralise the violent gangs that dominated the Cape Flats and other urban townships. Under strict oversight, the SANDF and police conducted systematic house-to-house searches to confiscate illegal firearms and narcotics. The approach—firm but lawful—was accompanied by amnesty provisions for those who voluntarily surrendered weapons.

Parallel initiatives targeted extortion syndicates, construction-site mafias, and the so-called “water gangs” that had hijacked municipal supplies. The objective was simple: to restore the state’s monopoly on force, without descending into repression.

Social Measures

While security occupied immediate attention, the Council recognised the need to offer tangible relief to the impoverished population. To stabilise communities and buy time for structural reform, the Council authorised the introduction of a Basic Income Grant (BIG) of R1 500 per month for all adults, effective from January 2027.

Jacobs described the measure as “a bridge between despair and dignity.” It would not solve unemployment, but it would prevent starvation while new economic engines were built. The grant would be financed through redirected subsidies, debt monetisation (to be debated later), and the recovery of stolen state assets.

Governance Reform

Before adjournment, the Council reaffirmed that the old system of patronage governance would be dismantled gradually but decisively. Municipalities, long the epicentres of corruption, were placed under temporary provincial administration. Procurement rules were simplified; digital transparency portals were introduced to track every government contract in real time.

The session concluded with Jacobs’s closing remarks, now immortalised in the archives:

“We have taken power not because we sought it, but because power was abandoned by those entrusted with it. Our first duty is not to rule, but to repair.”

The meeting ended with a sense of grim optimism. Outside the Union Buildings, the gardens were quiet, guarded by soldiers whose discipline contrasted sharply with the chaos of previous years. The capital felt newly alert, as if a great machine long frozen in decay had begun, at last, to move again.

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