When Geordin Hill-Lewis, Cape Town’s mayor and a rising star in the Democratic Alliance (DA), branded Cape Independence “nonsense” in a recent interview, he didn’t just misstep—he lobbed a Molotov cocktail into his own voter base. The word choice is telling: emotive, dismissive, and dripping with condescension. It’s not an argument; it’s a tantrum. For a politician whose party thrives on the support of Western Cape residents—over three-quarters of DA voters (79%), according to a 2023 Victory Research poll, back a referendum on independence—this is more than tone-deaf. It’s a betrayal of the people he’s sworn to serve. Hill-Lewis’s flippant rejection reveals a deeper arrogance: a refusal to grapple with a legitimate democratic impulse, one rooted in reason, history, and law, not just emotion.
A Betrayal of the Base
Let’s start with the numbers. That 79% figure is a roar from the DA’s heartland; not a fringe opinion. These aren’t rabid separatists or starry-eyed dreamers; they’re ordinary Capetonians who’ve watched South Africa’s national experiment lurch from crisis to catastrophe—voters who gave the DA a chance with the Government of National Unity (GNU) to turn things around. Nine months in, the GNU’s floundering, delivering little beyond a shaky truce, and those Western Cape supporters are already eyeing alternatives. Hill-Lewis might fancy himself a savior of the nation, but his job is to run Cape Town, not to prop up a failing state. For decades, the Western Cape has poured resources into a union that returns neglect, mismanagement, and decline. Per capita GDP has flatlined for 15 years, as Hill-Lewis himself admits, yet he clings to the fantasy that Cape Town’s success can somehow “inspire” a turnaround in places like Johannesburg. Where’s the evidence? South Africa’s needle hasn’t budged—except perhaps toward load-shedding, corruption, and despair. To call independence ‘nonsense’—straight out of the ANC’s playbook—is to belittle the rational frustration of his own constituents—who trusted the DA with the GNU and now demand options—and risk alienating them when they’re ready to walk. The ANC dismissed AfriForum and Solidarity in the same manner, refusing to engage, which added to international pressure. Is the DA willing to legitimize the same behavior?
Hill-Lewis’s disdain also ignores a fundamental truth: secession isn’t some alien heresy—it’s a form of self-determination, a principle enshrined in international law and South Africa’s own constitution. The UN Charter and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights affirm that peoples have the right to determine their political destiny. True, secession itself isn’t explicitly codified—it’s a gray area shaped by precedent and practice—but South Africa, as a signatory, can’t pretend this right doesn’t exist. Since World War II, over 140 new nations have emerged, many peacefully: think Slovakia and the Czech Republic, or Montenegro and Serbia. Divorce isn’t failure; sometimes it’s survival. The Western Cape isn’t obligated to drown with a sinking ship just to appease Hill-Lewis’s patriotic ego.
The Pragmatic Case for Secession
The mayor’s counterargument—if you can call it that—leans on vague platitudes: “We’re passionate South Africans, we want our country to work.” Passion’s lovely, but it doesn’t fix potholes or fund schools. It’s Hill-Lewis who’s driven by emotion here—an irrational impulse to “rescue South Africa” despite its evident collapse—while Cape Independence offers a pragmatic reckoning with reality. His vision of “winning in growing numbers” to save South Africa sounds noble until you realize it’s a delusion. The DA’s national gains have plateaued, and the GNU he champions is a shaky truce, not a renaissance. Meanwhile, Cape Town thrives—its infrastructure investment outpaces every other metro, its governance sets a gold standard. Why shackle that success to a national carcass? Insist on devolution of powers, a plea the DA’s pressed since 2012, ignored by Pretoria for over a decade? Secession is about liberating a region to chart its own course, free from Pretoria’s dead weight; not about cutting off a “little portion.”
Hill-Lewis admits the emotional pull of independence but scoffs at its practicality. Yet history begs to differ. Peaceful separations often follow a clear public mandate and pragmatic negotiation—think Slovakia’s Velvet Divorce or Norway’s split from Sweden. The process isn’t chaos; it’s democracy. Unlike Scotland, which had to beg Westminster for its 2014 referendum, the Western Cape government holds a trump card: it can unilaterally call a referendum to gauge the democratic will of its people, no national permission required. If citizens demand it (and polls suggest they might), the response shouldn’t be arrogance but a sober “divorce settlement.” Split assets, clarify borders, negotiate trade—done. It’s not emotional blackmail; it’s adults at the table. South Africa’s own breakup could be messy, sure, but messier than the status quo? A nation where debt servicing consumes about 22 cents of every rand of revenue, more than 35% goes to public sector salaries, just under half the population relies on social grants, and hundreds of billions are lost in waste and corruption each year? Cape Independence isn’t the radical idea here—clinging to a broken union is.
A Call for Democracy, Not Dismissal
The mayor’s real sin isn’t just dismissing CI—it’s manipulating the debate. “Nonsense” isn’t a rebuttal; it’s a gag order. By refusing to engage substantively, he infantilizes his voters, implying they can’t handle a grown-up conversation about their future. This from a man who built his career on liberal ideals like free expression and open debate. Where’s that principle now? If Hill-Lewis truly believes in South Africa, let him prove it with facts, not insults. Show us how Cape Town’s prosperity can lift Limpopo out of poverty. Explain why a centralized ANC-led state deserves another chance after 30 years of rot. He won’t, because he can’t.
Cape Independence isn’t a tantrum—it’s a reckoning. It’s the Western Cape asking: why stay in a marriage that’s bled us dry? Hill-Lewis owes his citizens more than sanctimony. He owes them a real answer—or better yet, a vote. Call it “nonsense” if you like, Geordin, but the world’s seen 140 new flags since 1945. The Cape’s could be next. And if your own party’s voters are waving it, maybe it’s time to stop sneering and start listening.
* Originally published in the City Press
