Political Philosophy & Doctrine

How a song, a burning university, and a DM turned my politics inside out I didn’t cry over a speech. I didn’t cry over a march. I cried over graphs. For years I had defended the DA as the “grown-up” option. In Politics 101 debates, I played the calm one: “They’re rational.” “They protect institutions.” “They’ll keep investor confidence.” “They’re non-racial.” I knew the vocabulary by heart: fiscal discipline, policy certainty, rule of law. Speaking like that felt safe. It fel

A Philosophical Essay by L.K. I. The Moment That Breaks — and Builds From one moment of pain, entire dynasties of victors are born. Pain is the crucible that every great life must pass through. Not because suffering is romantic, or because hardship is morally superior, but because pain reveals the truth about a human being. When confronted with a force capable of collapsing them, a person is stripped of illusion. All that remains is the naked will — the raw, unprotected self

Hands Across Generations – Diaspora Connection Author: Lisu Khuzwayo Some moments don’t ask for attention, but stay with you anyway. They unfold quietly, without warning, yet hold the weight of entire histories. Mine began in Venice, on a trip that was meant to be about learning. It became something else. In my final year at Kearsney College, I was selected to join an academic tour to Italy and England—two weeks abroad, far from South African soil, with the promise of cultura

Mahnaz Yazdani Personal Ambition Superseding Collective Strategy The Quiet Sabotage of South Africa’s Democratic Promise By Lisu Khuzwayo | 19 June 2025 “Amandla Awethu” — Power is Ours. These days, it’s just an echo — bouncing off the walls of Parliament and dying before it reaches the street. Introduction: The Liberation Dream Deferred Three decades after apartheid’s demise, South Africa was meant to stand as a beacon of postcolonial renewal — a constitutional democracy bui

By Lisu Khuzwayo Reflecting on my life, I acknowledge that I have endured significant hardship—baggage, trauma, inner turmoil, and hate. These experiences have imparted invaluable lessons on what not to become. My mother disciplined me in the traditional African way, with whipping belts and haunting screams. Through this, I first grasped the depths of life and the essence of HLONIPHA—respect. “Why are you crying?” “You think you’re clever?” “Yes, tell me why you are sorry?”