South Africa for the past three decades has faced a stubborn one way ideological street of ever-expanding centralisation. It is therefore both rare and refreshing to observe a ministerial response that is measured, constitutional, and receptive to civic critique. Minister of Basic Education Siviwe Gwarube’s recently published Guidelines for the Implementation of the 2024 Amendments to the South African Schools Act deserve thoughtful attention, not just for what they achieve, but for how they came into being.
To say that the Basic Education Laws Amendment Act (BELA), passed late last year, ignited a firestorm, would be an understatemtn. For many, it appeared to be a Trojan horse framed as an administrative update to ensure uniformity and better school functioning, yet containing provisions that significantly centralised power, diluted the role of school governing bodies (SGBs), and opened the door for political interference in language and admissions policy. The backlash was fierce and immediate, spearheaded not by political parties, but by a motley assembly of civil society organisations and concerned parents, who saw this as nothing less than an attack on those hallowed fields where their children can run around and be safe and free.
That the Minister responded at all is significant. That she responded substantively, and in terms largely congruent with civil society’s proposals, is astonishing in South Africa’s political climate of centralisation.
The Good: A Minister Who Listens
Minister Gwarube’s guidelines seem to be a genuine attempt to reconcile BELA’s centralising thrust with the constitutional principles of cooperative governance, administrative justice, and participatory democracy. Moreover, it does the most it can within her powers, post the signing of BELA, to reign in the most egregious aspects of the Act. From the requirement for written justifications when SGB policies are overruled, to the inclusion of robust public participation processes, to the reaffirmation of appeals as an essential democratic mechanism, the guidelines provide practical guardrails against the overreach that many, Free SA included, feared and warned against.
Free SA’s recommendations, submitted in a detailed letter and annexure containing draft regulations in January 2025, are visible throughout. The emphasis on community consultation, the protection of mother-tongue education where practicable, and the insistence on due process before the dissolution of SGBs are not mere bureaucratic tweaks to the Act.
That the Minister chose this route, consultative rather than doubling down, deliberative rather than dogmatic, is a credit to her leadership. She has demonstrated that it is possible to govern with both principle and pragmatism. It would be easy, particularly in a post-ideological “Government of National Unity,” to simply enforce the letter of the law and ignore its spirit. She did not.
The Bad: Guidelines Are Not Law
But the cautious optimism must be tempered. These guidelines, while laudable, are not legislation and does not remove or negate BELA itself. They are an interim fix and a moral compass but unfortunately not a constitutional firewall.
BELA remains law, and it centralises unprecedented discretionary power in the hands of bureaucrats at provincial government level. A future Minister or different provincial governments (we’re looking at your Gauteng government Mr Lesufi), less committed to constitutionalism and more animated by ideological zeal, could sideline these guidelines entirely. There are no guarantees. These gains are therefore real, but they areprovisional.
The Potentially Ugly: Transformation or Ideological Capture?
This finally brings us to the heart of the matter. BELA’s original sin was not its language, but its logic – or the lack thereof. At its core, it embodies a state-centric view of governance where bureaucratic uniformity trumps local autonomy, and where transformation is pursued by decree rather than persuasion. The regulations may have mitigated this instinct, but they have not reversed it.
Should a future Minister interpret BELA’s powers through a rigid ideological lens pushing for forced language changes, political appointments to SGBs, or arbitrary admissions directives the guidelines offer little protection. The infrastructure for interference is still there. What protects schools, for now, is the character of the incumbent Minister. That should worry anyone who believes in structural constitutionalism rather than benevolent governance. Laws, regulations and rules should always be written with the most horrible implementer in mind – for context, a brief Google search or ChatGPT AI-nalysis of the phrase “Zimbabwe economic collapse” would indicate that this this fear is real and that there are good examples backing it up.
Conclusion
Perhaps the most compelling aspect of this story is how it was won. When BELA was passed, a handful of opposition parties raised alarm bells. But by the time the Government of National Unity emerged, most had retreated into silence, compromise, or posturing. Civil society, unencumbered by party deals and parliamentary decorum, kept going.
Organisations like Free SA, AfriForum, and other education and legal advocacy groups did the hard, unglamorous work: drafting alternative regulations, mobilising parents, engaging the media, and forcing legal clarity. They argued on principle, not partisanship. In the end, it was not the parliamentary process but public pressure and legal reasoning that shaped the outcome.
This approach matters, and in the South African context, it will only increase in importance. It affirms the indispensable role of a vigilant, informed civil society in defending democratic institutions. It is a lesson in what can be achieved when citizens do not wait for politicians to act, but act themselves and act with clarity, rigour, and determination.
To cast this as a parochial squabble over Afrikaans is to fundamentally misunderstand the stakes. While Afrikaans schools were among the most visibly affected given their history, structure, and linguistic distinctiveness, this was never just about Afrikaans.
It was about whether school communities have the right to make decisions that affect their children. It was about whether education should be administered in a one-size-fits-all manner from Pretoria, or whether it should reflect the diverse, decentralised reality of South Africa. It was about the balance of power between the state and society.
There is an old saying that success has many fathers. In this case, Free SA is pleased to count itself among them. We do so not out of arrogance, but out of commitment to the values we champion: non-racialism, parental involvement, constitutionalism, and decentralised decision-making. We made our submissions in good faith, and we are gratified to see our proposals reflected in the Minister’s final guidelines.
The work, however, is not done. The fight for educational freedom is not won with a single policy. It is won through vigilance, iteration, and constant public engagement.
Still, for today, we mark a victory. A rare, hard-earned triumph for civil society in a country too often paralysed by its politics. And for that, we are grateful.
