Thirty years after the adoption of South Africa's Final Constitution – hailed as one of the most progressive in the world; the question remains: Has it delivered meaningful socio-economic transformation for the majority of its people?

The Constitution of South Africa, together with its justiciable Bill of Rights, marked a historic break from apartheid. It enshrined not only civil and political rights, but also socio-economic rights, including access to housing, healthcare, education, food, water, and social security. This was a bold and transformative vision, one that recognised that dignity and equality cannot exist without material justice.

Through landmark rulings by the Constitutional Court, socio-economic rights have been progressively realised in ways that have had tangible impacts on people's lives. Cases such as Government of the Republic of South Africa v Grootboom and Minister of Health v Treatment Action Campaign affirmed the state's obligation to take reasonable measures to fulfil these rights, expanding access to housing and life-saving antiretroviral treatment. In doing so, South Africa affirmed that socio-economic rights are not merely aspirational, but enforceable.

Since 1994, millions of South Africans have gained access to basic services, including housing, electricity, water, and social protection. Today, social grants reach approximately 26.5 million people, including about 8.2 million beneficiaries of the Social Relief of Distress (SRD) grant – around 45% of the population, a significant increase from just 7% in 1996. These grants have played a critical role in alleviating extreme poverty and providing a safety net for vulnerable households. Access to education has expanded significantly, and the state has made notable investments in infrastructure and service delivery. These gains, however uneven, reflect the enduring power of the Constitution as a tool for social justice.

Yet, three decades on, the promise of socio-economic transformation remains incomplete.

According to the World Bank, South Africa remains the most unequal country in the world, with persistently high levels of unemployment and poverty. The country's Gini coefficient measuring income inequality, stands at approximately 0.63, the highest globally. The top 10% of the population accounts for more than half of national expenditure, while millions remain trapped in poverty and exclusion. Data from 2023 –2024 indicates that about 21% of the population lives on less than $2.15 per day, while approximately 14 million South Africans – around 25% of the population live below the food poverty line of R796 per person per month.

Unemployment remains one of the most significant barriers to transformation. In the fourth quarter of 2025, South Africa's official unemployment rate stood at 31.4%, while youth unemployment reached a staggering 43.8%, effectively locking almost half of the population of an entire generation out of meaningful economic participation.

These structural inequalities are deeply rooted in the legacy of apartheid and continue to be reproduced through persistent spatial, economic, and social divides. Wealth, land, and opportunity remain highly concentrated among a privileged minority, while historically marginalised communities, particularly Black South Africans continue to bear the brunt of poverty and exclusion.

Equally concerning is the persistence of violence. South Africa continues to experience extraordinarily high levels of crime, including murder, sexual violence, and armed robbery. Communities are sites of violence and crime. Violence is not only a criminal justice issue, it is also deeply intertwined with inequality, unemployment, and social fragmentation, and it undermines the very rights the Constitution seeks to protect.

At the same time, corruption has eroded the transformative potential of South Africa. According to the 2026 Corruption Perceptions Index, the country scored 41 out of 100 – its lowest since 2012, ranking 81st out of 182 countries. This reflects persistent concerns about governance, accountability, and the misuse of public resources. Public trust in institutions has been steadily eroded, with many citizens expressing frustration at the state's inability to effectively address corruption and deliver services.

These realities raise a fundamental question: Can a constitution, no matter how progressive, deliver transformation in the absence of effective implementation and capable institutions?

The Constitution provides a powerful normative and legal framework, but it cannot, on its own, dismantle entrenched inequality or transform economic structures. Implementation has often been uneven, slowed by governance failures and capacity constraints. In many communities, particularly in townships and rural areas, constitutional rights remain distant from lived experience.

And yet, despite these challenges, the Constitution remains one of South Africa's greatest achievements. It continues to serve as a tool for accountability, a framework for justice, and a source of hope. Civil society organisations, social movements, and ordinary citizens continue to invoke constitutional rights to demand housing, healthcare, education, and dignity.

The real question, then is not whether the Constitution has failed, but whether South Africa has done enough to realise its transformative promise.

Achieving socio-economic transformation requires more than legal guarantees. It requires confronting inequality directly through land reform, job creation, education reform, and strengthened social protection. Indeed, strides have been made towards achieving some of these promises, but gaps still remain. Socio-economic transformation also demands bold economic reform, inclusive growth, capable governance, and sustained investment in communities. It also requires addressing violence not only through policing, but through prevention, social development, and community resilience. The Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation's long-standing work in the communities highlights that leveraging community knowledge, agency and expertise in lived experience as a resource for building community resilience contributes to sustainable violence and crime prevention strategies.

Thirty years on, South Africa stands at a crossroads. The Constitution laid the foundation for a just and equal society. But the work of transformation remains unfinished. The promise of dignity, equality, and freedom has been articulated. The challenge is making it real to those whose lives has always been on the margins of this envisioned just and equal society – the majority of the population who live under the poverty datum line, women and girls whose bodies are canvasses of sexual violence and the youths whose unemployment remains disturbingly high.

As the global community marks the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence, the Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation (CSVR) is proud to launch a bold public-engagement initiative under the banner: "What Does Justice for GBV Mean for You?" This initiative invites South Africans—and Africans across the continent to reflect, engage, and contribute to a deeper, more inclusive understanding of what justice truly means for survivors, families, and communities affected by gender-based violence and violence against women and girls in particular.

The campaign aims to expand the justice perceptions beyond the courtroom, challenging the narrow assumption that justice is achieved only through convictions. Instead, CSVR's campaign encourages society to consider the full spectrum of justice:

• Social Justice – dismantling the harmful norms, inequalities, and power dynamics that sustain violence.

• Psychosocial and Healing Justice – ensuring survivors and their families receive sustained mental health, trauma, and emotional support.

• Livelihoods and Economic Justice – addressing the economic drivers and consequences of GBV, including poverty, unemployment, and economic dependency.

• Safety and Protection Justice – guaranteeing that communities, schools, public spaces, and homes are places of safety.

• Transformative Justice – transforming institutions, structures and systems at all levels to prevent violence, respond effectively, and uphold survivor dignity.

A Conversation on Justice

With the question "What Does Justice for GBV Mean for You?", CSVR seeks to spark a multi-layered national and continental conversation that recognises that:

• For many survivors, justice is the experience of being heard, believed, and treated with dignity.

• For families, justice means safety, protection, empowerment and long-term psychosocial support.

• For communities, justice means breaking the silence, confronting stigma, and addressing harmful social norms.

• For institutions, justice requires timely, accessible, and survivor-centred services, free from secondary trauma or bureaucratic barriers.

By amplifying these diverse perspectives, the campaign highlights the reality that justice is not a single event, but a continuous process of healing, safety, and transformation.

Justice Beyond the Criminal Justice System

While the criminal justice system remains essential, CSVR's research and programmatic interventions consistently demonstrate that justice is broader than just criminal justice

outcomes. Survivors repeatedly express that justice includes:

• Receiving compassion, respect, and being trusted.

• Access to quality MHPSS services.

• Reintegration into supportive families and communities.

• Economic empowerment and opportunities that allow them to rebuild their lives.

• Living in a society where violence is prevented – not tolerated, justified, or ignored.

This holistic understanding of justice reflects CSVR's core mission of addressing not only the symptoms of violence but also the deep structural and social drivers that sustain it.

CSVR's Commitment During the 16 Days of Activism

Throughout this period, CSVR will roll out a series of activities designed to deepen public reflection, expand knowledge, and strengthen collective responsibility, including:

• The Justice Op-Ed Series: Expert analyses, survivor reflections, and insights on justice, healing, and prevention.

• Interactive Online Platforms: Tools for communities to share their perspectives on what justice looks like in their own lives and local contexts.

• Engagement with policymakers and institutions to highlight gaps, advocate for survivor-centred reforms, and strengthen accountability.

These interventions reflect CSVR's unwavering commitment to trauma-informed Mental Health and Psychosocial Support Services (MHPSS, community resilience, evidence-based advocacy, and the advancement of justice systems that uphold the dignity and wellbeing of all survivors.

A Call to Action

CSVR calls on all partners – government actors, civil society, researchers, traditional leaders, private sector partners, and community structures to join us in ensuring that justice becomes a lived reality, not merely a legal aspiration.

Despite post-apartheid progress, racial and social divisions remain. Economic privilege still aligns with race, restricting opportunities. High youth unemployment and exclusion deepen inequality and fuel unrest. Historical grievances and mistrust between groups hinder reconciliation and limit youth-led peacebuilding efforts. Though apartheid officially ended in 1994, its legacy continues to shape South Africa's cultural and social realities particularly impacting Black South African youth. A critical gap after transition has been that South Africa lacks sustainable funding, institutional support, and consistent policies to enable youth participation in peacebuilding.

Historical Background

In 1948,  the South African National Party government imposed apartheid, meaning 'apartness' in Afrikaans, a legal system built to uphold white supremacy by systematically disenfranchising the Black African majority, along with minority Coloured and Indian communities. The apartheid regime entrenched severe racial inequalities, with marginalised communities forcibly removed into impoverished townships and so-called "homelands" or Bantustans, which stripped Black South Africans of participating as active citizens under the guise of self-governance.

The regime actively sought to suppress indigenous cultures by banning native languages in schools and enforcing Afrikaans as the primary medium of instruction. Despite the violent repression, these circumstances sparked a cultural renaissance among Black South Africans, who turned to art, music, and literature as forms of resistance. South African youth played a pivotal role in resisting apartheid, mobilising mass protests and driving the movement that ultimately dismantled the regime.

In 1960s Black Consciousness Movement (BCM), led by Steve Bantu Biko, played a pivotal role in redefining African identity, fostering cultural pride, and challenging systemic injustices. It empowered young South Africans to resist apartheid through cultural and political activism. Also, resistance movements gained momentum, with movements such as the African National Congress (ANC) and Pan African Congress (PAC) led by leaders such as Nelson Mandela and Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe, respectively.

These movements led efforts to dismantle apartheid. Collectively, these efforts resulted in the 1976 Soweto Uprising which saw students protesting against Afrikaans as the medium of instruction, marking a pivotal moment in youth-led resistance.

Nelson Mandela elected as the first democratic president in 1994, South Africa began a journey towards reconciliation and nation-building through initiatives such as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC).The TRC documented human rights abuses by all parties during apartheid, prioritising restorative justice over punishment. It aimed to uncover the truth, promote healing, and grant amnesty for full disclosure.

Most violence occurred in KwaZulu-Natal between 1990 and 1994, with young men aged thirteen to thirty-six as primary victims. Sexual abuse affected both genders. Though symbolically significant, the TRC had limited effect on structural inequality and failed to provide full reparations.

Despite these efforts, challenges persist. Many remnants of past inequality remain entrenched within social, economic and political structures, prohibiting the complete transition from past to present for many South Africans.

Contemporary Youth Resilience

In March 2015, Rhodes Must Fall movement was a student-led protest at the University of Cape Town (UCT) in South Africa, demanding the removal of Cecil Rhodes' statue, seen as a symbol of colonialism and racism. On 9 April, the university removed the statue, marking a stand against white supremacy and institutional inequality.

In October 2015, Fees Must Fall a student-led protest  movement emerged in South Africa, calling for free higher education and decolonised curricula. Starting at the University of the Witwatersrand, it spread nationwide, reflecting youth activism for socio-economic justice and continuing the fight against systemic inequality.

Social media platforms empower South African youth to voice concerns, mobilise communities, and push for justice. Movements like Rhodes Must Fall and Fees Must Fall show how digital tools drive unity and influence policy change.

Youth Participation in Peacebuilding, Policy-making and Governance

Although youth form a large part of South Africa's population, their involvement in governance remains limited. Initiatives aim to boost participation in local decision-making, elections, and leadership programmes. Policymakers and organisations work to embed youth perspectives in governance, helping to create a more inclusive and forward-looking society.

South Africa  launched the Youth Peace Mediators Mentoring Programme in partnership with Finland. This initiative equips young peacebuilders with practical tools for conflict resolution, mediation, and post-conflict reconstruction. It aligns with UN Security Council Resolution 2250 and the African Union's Agenda 2063, both of which advocate for youth inclusion in peace processes.

Most South African youth lack the skills and confidence for peacebuilding without mentorship and empowerment. The education system often fails to provide tools for conflict resolution, yet many young people remain keen to engage in community initiatives that promote peace and reduce violence.

Recommendation to enhance youth involvement in peacebuilding.

To effectively enhance youth involvement in peacebuilding, the Government must adopt a policy that addresses socioeconomic inequalities, empowers young people through targeted training and mentorship, fosters meaningful intergenerational dialogue, integrates peace education into school curricula, and promotes restorative justice. Furthermore, supporting youth-led media and platforms ensures their voices and solutions are visible, valued, and central to building lasting peace.

Our world-renowned South African Constitution that enshrines not only civil and political rights, but also socio-economic rights, guarantees the rights to dignity, adequate housing, healthcare, and access to basic services. Yet, when rural families are left to rebuild with no compensation, when children sleep beneath torn plastic sheets, and when schools remain cut off for weeks, these rights are not only unmet, but they are also systematically ignored. Three decades into our democracy, we are still forced to ask: Whose rights truly count in a crisis? Whose suffering must become a public spectacle before the state chooses to respond?

The government's duty is to respond and prevent foreseeable harm. As climate change accelerates floods, droughts, and extreme weather, rural regions nationwide are growing more exposed, not protected. Failure to invest in resilience is not just poor planning; it violates constitutional obligations.

An infrastructure system built in the past

As climate shocks grow more frequent and severe, South Africa's deepening infrastructure crisis has become impossible to ignore. The country is not built to withstand today's high-intensity rainfall, storm surges, or urban flooding. Much of our infrastructure was designed for a climate that no longer exists. Drainage systems are overwhelmed and poorly maintained, while roads and bridges routinely collapse under pressure. Even Cape Town, often hailed as the country's "best-run" metro, is not immune. In recent weeks, heavy rains displaced over 3,000 residents, triggering widespread localized flooding and laying bare the illusion of resilience.

Emergency shelters: a gaping void in disaster response

South Africa's near-total absence of designated emergency shelters and contingency planning is compounding the crisis. Our flood response remains reactive, fragmented, and chronically underfunded. Municipalities are stretched thin, and most lack the capacity and planning frameworks for rapid, coordinated action.

In an era of escalating climate risk, the absence of designated emergency shelters is not merely a logistical oversight but a profound social injustice. Climate resilience must begin with the most basic guarantee: safe survival spaces. In KwaZulu-Natal, more than 150 flood victims temporarily housed at the Bayside Hotel in Durban were evicted, leaving them without refuge, dignity, or support. This was not disaster relief; it was abandonment.

Things must change

Unless our government confronts the systemic failures laid bare by repeated flood disasters, we will continue to cycle through devastation and delayed response. What's needed is not another relief plan, but a strategic transformation rooted in spatial justice, resilient infrastructure, social equity, and accountable governance. The solutions already exist. What's missing is the political will to act with the same urgency as the storms that keep returning.

Our municipalities must do more than react; they must prepare. That means embedding community-based disaster response, investing in livelihood recovery, and ensuring that no one is left behind simply because of where they live or what they earn. Building resilience starts with listening to the communities most at risk and acting before the next disaster hits.

The upcoming National Colloquium on South Africa's NDC 2035 offers a critical platform to ensure that the country's climate commitments are both ambitious and inclusive. Beyond technical discussions, it is a moment to advocate for stronger integration of justice, equity, and community-driven solutions into the NDC framework.

This article was originally published on Cape Times.

In South Africa, hunger is not just about empty stomachs it's about unequal systems. It exists in crèches that exclude children whose parents can't pay fees, in homes where grant applications fail quietly, and in the lives of people with disabilities navigating systems that overlook their most basic needs. The student who is excluded from funding because they are considered too poor to afford university, yet not poor enough to qualify for state assistance caught in the gap of eligibility. The woman who sits at the traffic lights with her child asking for small change or food to eat.

The problem is not that the country does not produce enough food, the problem is about who eats and who does not. Hunger is not just about food, it is about power, it is about peace, and it is deeply gendered. Women, especially Black women, carry the heaviest load in South Africa's food crisis. They cook, stretch budgets, sell in the informal economy, and absorb the emotional violence of food insecurity. They go hungry so children can eat. And when food runs out, so does safety.  As we've seen time and again, from the COVID lockdowns to the July Kwa Zulu Natal unrest, scarcity breeds violence and is expressed against Black bodies.

Despite producing enough food to feed everyone, South Africa has over 63,5% of households facing food insecurity. We live in a country with one of the world's most progressive constitutions, where Section 27 guarantees the right to food and water. Yet every day, millions go hungry. And too often, we forget who exactly is being left behind.

Hunger is a multidimensional crisis that undermines health through malnutrition, poor disease resistance, and skipped medication, it fractures social cohesion, creating stigma, shame, and desperation, worsening economic outcomes, especially for women and youth already at the margins. Women in informal settlements skip antiretrovirals because they can't take them on an empty stomach. The missing  population that is not reported on include,  those not in employment, education, or training, outside of the Not in Education, Employment or Training, (NEETs) active or inactive, there are people who are not in employment who are not receiving social grants and are not within the youth category, including children who are not in Early Childhood Development (ECD), are left without resources to access food​​.

Despite policy interventions such as school feeding schemes, social grants, and the 2023 SAHRC-led right-to-food study commissioned by the Department of Agriculture, significant structural gaps remain. Many interventions are not reaching those outside formal systems — such as children excluded from Early Childhood Development (ECD) programmes or people with disabilities navigating inaccessible services. These omissions reveal a deeper issue: our food security mechanisms are not designed with the most marginalised in mind, reinforcing cycles of invisibility and exclusion. This is not just a failure of delivery. It is a failure of vision.

If we think of hunger only as a developmental or nutritional issue, we miss its full impact. Hunger is relational. It creates shame, fuels desperation, and destabilises communities. We need to stop treating hunger like an economic inconvenience and start addressing it as a political and peace issue one that is deeply gendered.  The Centre for Social Justice (CSJ), under the leadership of Professor Thuli Madonsela, has reframed hunger as a constitutional crisis. In the recent expert symposium I attended held on the 10^th of April in Pniel discussions rightly roots the right to food in Section 27 of the Constitution and makes the case for structural change that is systems-based and rights-driven approach to food insecurity.

The research on Gendered Dimensions of Hunger and Peacebuilding by Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation (CSVR) and University College Dublin drives the conversation further urging for a widened lens where food security is a catalyst for peace. Because hunger, when it intersects with gender, exclusion, and poverty, becomes something even more dangerous a disruptor of peace. A participant in the ongoing research shared that in one of the dialogues they conducted a man asked, "how do you expect me and my people to engage on peace when we are hungry?"

Let's be clear: we have the policy tools, we have the research, and we have the constitutional mandate. What's needed now is a shift in mindset from hunger as a welfare issue to hunger as a peace and justice imperative.

When hunger intersects with gender inequality, disability, and exclusion, it fuels GBV, erodes trust in the state, drives protests, looting, and resentment. As the UN Security Council warned in 2025: hunger isn't just a consequence of conflict. It's a cause.

We must act like it.

That means embedding gender, peace, and inclusion into every food policy. It means tracking how hunger affects social cohesion, how it exacerbates violence, how it chips away at democratic trust. It means giving voice and space to those most affected not after the fact, but as architects of the solutions.

If we are serious about building a future rooted in justice and peace, then we must start treating hunger as both a political emergency and a moral failure. This means going beyond food parcels and short-term aid. We need women-led Food and Peace Councils that place care, equity, and lived experience at the heart of decision-making. We need disability-sensitive food access tools that acknowledge the everyday barriers disabled people face in reaching nourishment. And above all, we must ensure that no child goes invisible simply because their stomach is empty outside of school hours. Hunger is not just a symptom it is a warning signal. And ignoring it now means paying the price in conflict, unrest, and fractured futures.

Hunger isn't just about food. It's about power. It's about who gets to eat, who decides, and who is heard. If we're serious about justice, then no one should be hungry not a mother, not a child, not a person navigating hunger with a disability. Because food justice is peace work. Because peace doesn't start in Parliament, a place where conflict should be dealt with, it starts in homes where children eat, for women who aren't forced to trade their bodies for bread, and for persons with disabilities' ability to access food without stigma. Where food security is not a charity but a human right.

So, what would it look like to build a hunger strategy rooted in gender justice and peace?

We are at a turning point. With the National Food and Nutrition Security Plan (2024–2029) in development, and a Government of National Unity on the table, the political moment is ripe. But the question remains: will we continue with business-as-usual? Or will we reimagine hunger as the crisis of dignity, justice, and peace that it is?

As one working on the intersection of gender, hunger, and peace, I say this:
until hunger is addressed as a breach of peace and women are recognised as leaders in healing it, our democratic promises remain half-written.

We don't often think of food when we talk about peace. But we must — because in every empty stomach lies a silent protest against injustice. If we want peace to flourish, it must begin with food security, dignified women, and inclusive food systems.

This article was originally published on Daily Maverick.