When the People Who Once Marched for Us Nearly Turned Against Us

When I first heard the news that South Africa’s proposed VAT increase—planned for the 1st of May 2025—had been halted, I didn’t feel joy. I felt relief. A quiet, tired kind of relief that settles deep in the chest. For millions of South Africans, this was more than a policy shift—it was a lifeline.

In a country where every rand counts, where mothers divide food portions into days, and where petrol price hikes decide whether someone makes it to work or not, an increase in VAT would’ve been devastating. And the irony? It would’ve been pushed through by the same political party that once fought against it.

The Political Irony We Can’t Ignore

Let’s go back to the early 1990s. South Africa was emerging from the brutal grip of apartheid. In 1991, the National Party introduced Value-Added Tax (VAT), replacing the old General Sales Tax system. It was met with widespread outrage—led by the African National Congress (ANC), the very party that governs today.

The ANC’s argument then was clear: VAT was a regressive tax. It disproportionately impacted the poor. It wasn’t just a technical economic measure—it was a moral injustice, introduced by an unjust regime. In fact, COSATU, SANCO, and other affiliates held mass protests under the ANC’s banner, calling VAT a “vicious attack on the working class.”

Fast forward three decades. The very same ANC government nearly did the same thing—this time, during an economic crisis, with high unemployment, load shedding, and a growing wealth gap. The fact that the increase was even considered is enough to raise serious questions. The party that once fought VAT is now the one wielding it.

VAT and the Constitution

When I started studying law, I was drawn to the transformative power of South Africa’s Constitution. Section 27 guarantees the right to access food, water, and social security. Any policy that undermines this, even indirectly, must be challenged.

An increase in VAT would’ve affected basic goods—soap, sanitary pads, transport fares, and yes, even bread. While some basic items are zero-rated, the domino effect of VAT filters into every corner of life. It isn’t just a few cents here or there. It’s survival.

We have seen this before. After the 2018 VAT increase from 14% to 15%, StatsSA reported increased food insecurity in low-income households. Families were forced to substitute nutritious food for cheaper, less healthy alternatives. NGOs like Black Sash and SECTION27 warned that such increases threaten constitutional rights.

From the Street to the Courtroom: A Personal Reflection

Growing up, I watched my single mother make ends meet with impossible grace. I remember days when electricity ran out mid-cooking. That memory never left me. It’s what led me to law—to understand how policies are made, and how to protect those they hurt.

Economic justice is not a footnote in law. It’s the foundation. And tax policy is not abstract. It’s not numbers and graphs. It’s your neighbour skipping breakfast. It’s a job seeker walking 10 km because they can’t afford a taxi.

A Case You Won’t Hear on the News

Take Mama Thembi, who runs a spaza shop in Soweto. When VAT goes up, her costs rise. Her stock prices go up. Her customers—mostly pensioners and grant recipients—start buying less. First they skip buying eggs. Then sugar. Then cooking oil. Eventually, her income drops. She considers closing the shop. That’s what a VAT increase hike can do.

That’s not macroeconomics. That’s everyday South African life.

A Wake-Up Call, Not a Win

The halting of the VAT increase is not a triumph. It’s a warning. A reminder that the system almost failed us again—and might try to do so later. We must remember that relief isn’t reform. And we must remain vigilant.

It’s also a reminder of how quickly political memory can fade. That the ANC of 1991 would be horrified by the ANC of 2025. And that, ultimately, it is the people—unions, activists, and ordinary South Africans—who hold the line when the government forgets its promises.

If this story moved you, and you'd like to support more writing like this—real, raw, and rooted in lived experience—you can buy me a coffee here:

👉🏽 ko-fi.com/sammynaicker

Thank you for reading. Let’s keep the conversation going.

This article is written under the protection of Section 16 of the Constitution of South Africa: Freedom of expression. It reflects personal experience, public facts, and commentary on public interest matters.