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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