08/09/2026
40 YEARS AGO | 7 SEPTEMBER 1986
Forty years ago, on 7 September 1986, Desmond Tutu was enthroned at St. George's Cathedral, Cape Town, becoming the first Black Archbishop of the Anglican Church in Southern Africa.
It was a moment of extraordinary significance — for the Church, for Cape Town, and for a country living under the brutal reality of apartheid.
The Archbishop of Canterbury at the time, Dr Robert Runcie, was present for the historic enthronement, signalling the solidarity of the worldwide Anglican Communion with Tutu and with the struggle for justice in South Africa.
Runcie recognised the significance of the moment. He spoke of the profound change taking place in South Africa, declaring:
“Here in South Africa an old order is dying.”
And of Tutu himself, he spoke with warmth and affection, describing him as “a man of the people whose laughter and spontaneity can sometimes upset the pompous and shock the solemn.”
In keeping with tradition, Tutu approached the Cathedral doors alone. He struck the door three times with his staff, asking to be admitted. Dean Edward King opened the doors and welcomed him in.
But what followed was far more than a ceremonial enthronement.
Inside the Cathedral, Imilonjikantu Choral Society from Soweto sang songs, including Ha Ke Le Tjee, Ke Le Mobe, in Tutu’s beloved isiXhosa. Tutu swayed and danced to the music. Black and white worshippers celebrated as one. Among those gathered were Coretta Scott King, Winnie Mandela, Allan Boesak and church leaders from South Africa and around the world.
Outside, there were protests and minor scuffles.
But the Cathedral was already at the centre of something much more significant: a seminal moment of prophetic justice, undeterred by a state determined to demonise its opponents and to “paint the Arch red.”
The apartheid government and its propaganda sought to portray Tutu as a dangerous political agitator rather than a prophetic voice of the Church — to discredit his calls for justice, sanctions and an end to apartheid, and to suggest that his opposition to injustice made him somehow responsible for the violence engulfing the country.
But St George’s Cathedral provided a very different stage.
Here, Tutu refused to be silenced or intimidated. He stood at the heart of a city divided by apartheid and spoke a truth that the state did not want to hear.
“I abhor all violence.”
Yet he refused the convenient fiction that all violence could be spoken of as though it had no history or cause.
“The primary violence in this country is the violence of apartheid.”
The Cathedral became a place where propaganda was confronted with truth, fear with courage, and state power with moral authority.
The stones of St George’s witnessed a Church that would not retreat behind the walls of worship while people outside were suffering. They witnessed a prophetic ministry that insisted that faith could not be neutral in the face of injustice.
And this was only the beginning.
In the years that followed, St George’s became known as the People’s Cathedral — a place where the doors remained open when so many other doors were closed.
It became a sanctuary for those fleeing police brutality. A place where activists could find refuge. A meeting place for people of different races and faiths. A pulpit from which the injustice of apartheid could be named without fear.
And then, on 13 September 1989, the steps of St George’s Cathedral once again became the starting point for history.
The Cape Town Peace March, called for and led by Archbishop Tutu, brought some 30,000 people into the streets in a powerful and peaceful act of defiance against apartheid and the state’s prohibition of public protest.
It marked a further turning point.
The courage and momentum of that march helped to open a new and urgent chapter in South Africa’s history — a process that culminated just months later, when, on 2 February 1990, President F.W. de Klerk announced in Parliament the release of political prisoners and the unbanning of political organisations.
From the Cathedral steps, a people had demonstrated the power of peaceful resistance, prophetic leadership and collective courage.
The old order really was dying.
The Cathedral would continue that ministry of truth and reconciliation. In 1996, it became the setting for the opening of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, chaired by Tutu himself.
Looking back 40 years later, the significance of that September day is not simply that an Archbishop was enthroned.
It is that a Church stood at the heart of a city in struggle — and that its Archbishop embodied a courageous conviction:
that faith cannot be neutral in the face of injustice;
that resistance need not abandon peace;
and that reconciliation must be rooted in truth and justice.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu brought his laughter, his dancing, his prophetic voice, his deep love of God and his fierce love for South Africa into this Cathedral.
And alongside him, through the extraordinary journey of his ministry, stood Mama Leah Tutu — his beloved wife, best friend, and spiritual guide.
She shared not only the joys of his calling, but its risks, sacrifices and burdens. She is a woman of deep faith and conviction in her own right: a source of strength, wisdom and courage, and a powerful presence in the life and ministry of the Archbishop.
There was no Desmond Tutu story without Leah.
Together, they embodied a partnership rooted in love, faith, laughter, courage, justice and an unwavering commitment to human dignity.
And the Cathedral, in turn, became a place where people discovered that they did not have to face injustice alone.
Forty years on, we remember the enthronement of Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu — and we give thanks for a life and ministry that helped transform St George’s Cathedral into the People’s Cathedral.
And we remember with gratitude Mama Leah Tutu, who walked beside him, challenged him, strengthened him and shared his extraordinary journey.
His voice still echoes from these stones.
Her witness does too.
And their shared legacy continues to ask us:
What does it mean to be a people of courage, justice, peace and hope?
'Ha Ke Le Tjee, Ke Le Mobe' sung by Imilonjikantu Choral Society
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19qFFZ48DIQ
