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We have never had more opportunities to express our political convictions. But the local government elections raise a harder question: are we still capable of changing one another's minds?

The local government elections have once again exposed something uncomfortable about our political culture. We are remarkably good at expressing outrage, disappointment and disbelief at the choices of our fellow citizens. Social media provides an endless stream of political commentary, much of it directed at people whose voting decisions we find difficult to understand.
There is no shortage of political consciousness. We recognise injustice, condemn corruption and have strong opinions about who is responsible for the country's failures. Yet we seem increasingly unable to move beyond the expression of those convictions.
More troublingly, we appear to be losing the ability to construct an argument that might actually persuade someone to reconsider their position, question an inherited political loyalty or even change their vote.
The boundaries of our thinking
The Overton Window, named after American policy analyst Joseph Overton, describes the range of ideas considered acceptable within public discourse. Although not a psychological theory, it provides a useful framework for understanding how our social environments shape what we are prepared to consider.
Our political beliefs develop within families, communities and social circles that reinforce particular understandings of the world. Over time, these assumptions become so familiar that we stop recognising them as assumptions.
South Africa has many such windows. What is considered perfectly reasonable around one supper table may be inconceivable around another.
Political allegiance is often bound up with history, identity and belonging. People can become deeply dissatisfied with political outcomes while remaining unwilling to reconsider the loyalties that inform their choices.
We are generally much better at identifying the political prejudices of others than interrogating our own.
The convenience of digital activism
Digital platforms have made political participation more accessible. They allow citizens to expose wrongdoing, organise around causes and challenge powerful institutions. Their contribution to public accountability should not be underestimated.
But digital activism is also extraordinarily convenient.
We can condemn a political decision, share a provocative opinion, express solidarity or ridicule an opposing position without ever having to engage seriously with someone who disagrees.
There is an important distinction between making our opinions visible and making them consequential.
Much of our online political activity takes place among people who already share our convictions. We express outrage, receive affirmation and become increasingly certain that those who disagree must be ignorant, selfish or politically unaware.
But disbelief is not an argument. Neither is ridicule.
Persuasion requires understanding why someone thinks differently, what experiences have shaped their position and what evidence might cause them to reconsider. It also requires accepting that we might have something to learn ourselves.
We have become better at broadcasting our convictions than explaining why someone else should find them convincing.
More than a vote
Perhaps the most uncomfortable lesson of these elections is that voting, while indispensable, is insufficient.
We cannot reasonably expect different political outcomes if our participation begins and ends at the ballot box, interrupted only by occasional bursts of digital outrage.
Democracy requires work between elections. It requires citizens who understand the institutions that govern them, scrutinise public decisions, participate in community affairs and hold elected representatives accountable.
It also requires us to engage beyond the comfortable boundaries of our own political circles.
That means having difficult conversations, making reasoned arguments and being willing to reconsider positions we have inherited or held for years. It means recognising that changing one's mind is not necessarily a betrayal of one's history or principles.
Political parties have a responsibility to offer credible alternatives, and public institutions must give citizens reason to believe that participation can produce results. But citizens cannot outsource the entire responsibility for democracy to the people they elect.
The Overton Window does not expand simply because we become louder in defending what we already believe. It expands when unfamiliar ideas receive serious consideration and when people are willing to examine assumptions they previously regarded as settled.
South Africans fought hard for the right to vote. That right remains fundamental. But if we want different outcomes, we must become more capable of influencing what happens before the next ballot is cast.
Digital activism has made it easier than ever to have a political voice. The more demanding question is what we are prepared to do with it.
We are not stuck because we disagree. We are stuck, in part, because we have forgotten how to make disagreement productive.
And perhaps that is the challenge these elections leave us with: not simply whether we voted, but whether we are prepared to do the considerably harder work of changing minds, including our own.


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