True leadership and selfless dedication — a tribute to Pravin Gordhan

Pravin dedicated his entire life to service, a life I was privileged to witness for over 45 years. Pravin gave everything, and he was clear about that commitment. His early career as a pharmacist seemed almost incidental compared to his relentless activism. After a brief stint at King Edward Hospital and running a small pharmacy in Durban, he immersed himself fully in the Struggle for liberation.

 Pravin was always ready to step up, whether connecting the underground with the above-ground movements or playing a crucial role in Operation Vula. His vision inspired the Durban Housing Action Committee, uniting people from across the city. By 1981, we formed the Cape Action Committee, also a prelude to the birth of the United Democratic Front (UDF). You can roll back even further to the anti-SA Indian Council campaigns.

 In many ways, the ideas behind the UDF were born on the balcony of Pravin’s flat in (Durban’s) Edward Street, where “the proposal (for the UDF) was birthed”. We analysed the political landscape. He asked: “Can we take the chink (of light offered by the Tricameral Parliament the apartheid state pushed) and push (PW Botha) to the boundaries?” and the UDF was formed. Through the states of emergency that followed, the impact of people’s mobilisation was formidable. Pravin was a tactician.

 His leadership was not about occupying high office, but leading by example. What was important to him was that you don’t need to occupy high office to lead. Leadership is often an act of example, and you saw that in his life. He was prepared to pay the ultimate price.

When we entered Parliament in 1994, he served as the ANC’s chair of chairs, a crucial but less visible role. He later helped establish the South African Revenue Service (Sars) from the ground up, a transformative achievement for South Africa’s democracy. While I was finance minister, it was Pravin who played an indispensable role in making Sars a pivotal institution in our country’s journey. Initially, he thought we were “trying to shove him to the side”, but once persuaded, he threw himself into the work. It wasn’t just “Jan Taks” (the Afrikaans colloquial term for the taxman) any more, but about understanding the role of revenue collection in delivering a sustainable democracy to the people of South Africa. He was always asking: What can we do better; what can we do more simply? How do you get all of South Africa to own it? I reflected on some of this at the Tax Indaba on Monday. We would know exactly when the money would come in and there was always an all-nighter on the last night of March announcing the take (final annual revenue figure). That filled Sars people with such pride.

 Even in his final moments, as we gathered at his hospital bedside, Pravin remained an inspiration. He greeted, saying: “It’s so good to see you, broer. And as you can see from the machines, the end is nigh.” Those gathered with me — (former deputy finance minister) Mcebisi Jonas, (advisor) Mandla Nkomfe, (economist) Fuad Cassim, and Momo (the Treasury’s Ismail Momoniat) — all felt a sense of inspiration from him, even in those final moments.

 Pravin lived out his values every day, showing us that true leadership is about doing what is necessary, no matter the cost. As a pharmacist, he knew that he would not last long, and even in those final moments there was a sense of inspiration from him.  He lived a life where he did everything to live out his values. DM