Jews have lost their voice. The National Dialogue will help us reclaim it.

The overwhelming response to the National Dialogue has been to question whether it’s going to be another protracted talk shop or if it will potentially be a step change to drive a more cohesive and prosperous outcome for the country. In answering this question, the South African Jewish community can uncover the merits of participating in the process.

It’s argued that the objectives of the dialogue are poorly defined, and, as such, unlikely to come to much. That may well be the case.

In President Cyril Ramaphosa’s 7 July announcement, he explained that the National Dialogue was necessary “given the challenges our country is facing at the moment”. The president then went on to outline a wide range of concerns, from poverty, inequality, and unemployment to crime and poor economic performance. He asserted that the dialogue was a mechanism to drive the National Development Plan vision 2030 – an extensive plan that spans more than 478 pages.

It can also be argued that the dialogue is politically partisan and loaded, and that the outcomes are likely to follow suit. It was initiated, and continues to be championed by a group of African National Congress (ANC)-aligned organisations led by the Thabo Mbeki Foundation.

More recently, former President Thabo Mbeki saw fit to speak on behalf of the dialogue’s leadership as to why Democratic Alliance (DA) leader John Steenhuisen was wrong to withdraw the DA’s participation in the process. The composition of the eminent persons group – notwithstanding participation by more neutral compatriots such as our own Robbie Brozin and the likes of Siya Kolisi – doesn’t include diverse political interests, while the process is led by a largely ANC-dominated interministerial committee.

Another criticism is that, despite limited indications to the contrary, the dialogue is government-centric and too top heavy in conception and design. The outcomes, therefore, are unlikely to resonate and address the real challenges facing the ordinary South African. Many have called for the focus to be on communities, civil society, and the people on the receiving end of state policy and machinery. Indeed, the Constitution of South Africa starts with the visceral call of, “We, the people of South Africa.”

Critics will, correctly, argue that a National Dialogue isn’t an end in itself. Rather, it should take place within clearly defined parameters to drive specific outcomes. At this stage, however, the outcomes seem more like a mishmash of important problems facing the country.

So does the Jewish community wait on the margins until there’s more clarity? Or give up on participating altogether because the end is likely to remain unclear without any immediate expectation of changing the trajectory?

I would argue that within this broad and somewhat vague articulation of objectives, there’s an opportunity to help add structure and coherence to the outcome. There’s an opportunity to be part of shaping a more cohesive and common understanding of the problem and a shared vision that includes a Jewish voice.

Moreover, there’s merit in being part of the journey and process of dialogue. Post-apartheid South African dialogue processes are exemplified by building shared understanding, common purpose, and, importantly, building relationships and a sense of social cohesion and belonging.

Premised on the ideals of the 1955 Freedom Charter’s bold expression that “South Africa belongs to all who live in it”, dialogue processes have been tools of conflict resolution. Dialogue processes provide platforms for listening, understanding, and reconciliation. Dealing with problems that are too big for any one party to solve, dialogue provides a space for honest reflection, expression, and healing.

Following the events of 7 October 2023 and the resultant existential challenges faced by the South African Jewish community, the community has become increasingly polarised and alienated in South African society. Despite our significant contribution and presence in the country, we have isolated ourselves. We speak to ourselves in our own echo chambers, and find it hard to participate in broader social structures. The National Dialogue presents an opportunity to shift this.

In her novel How to Stay Sane in an Age of Division, author Elif Shafak speaks pertinently to the dangers of group-think isolation and how this leads to polarisation and seeing the other as enemies. “If wanting to be heard is one side of the coin, the other side is being willing to listen. The two are inextricably connected. When convinced that no-one – especially those in places of power and privilege – is really paying attention to our protests and demands, we will be less inclined to listen to others, particularly people whose views differ from ours.

“Communication across the cultural and ideological spectrum will falter and eventually crumble. And when communication is broken, coexistence, inclusion, and social harmony will also be damaged. In other words, if perpetuated and made routine, the feeling of being systematically unheard will slowly, gradually, seal our ears, and then seal our hearts. In retracting our willingness to listen to others, we ensure that they, too, feel unheard. And the cycle continues, worsening every time it revolves.”

Jewish South Africans, along with many other groups, have lost their voice in the South African story. We have lost our sense of being part of a diverse and hopeful country. The National Dialogue presents a platform to reclaim that voice, to share our frustration, anger, and disappointment, and be part of contributing to a better future.

• Tanya Cohen works at the intersection of government and business on developmental issues, focusing on sector growth and youth employment.