I PREDICT that the Congress of the People (COPE) will soon be dead. The problems with the party are so wellrehearsed that it would be rather coma- inducing to regurgitate them. A fellow analyst once joked with me that when you are struggling to write a piece of political commentary, just rehash COPE’s headaches. It is a gift for political pundits that never stops giving.
Yet I am choosing to ruminate about COPE yet again, not because my creative faculties have gone into exile (I hope), but because there is a new element to COPE’s demise that hit me this past week. It is this: besides the obvious leadership squabbles, organisational weaknesses and lack of ideological self-identification, there has also been a lack of effective strategic thinking at the heart of COPE’s politics. This lack of strategic skill provides an instructive lesson in realpolitik that is worth reflecting upon.
Two examples illustrate the point. This past week, COPE decided it would move for a motion of no confidence in President Jacob Zuma when Parliament opens. They deemed this such an incredible political coup that Mbhazima Shilowa and Mosiuoa Lekota put aside their differences and shared a platform. The basis of the motion? Zuma is morally bankrupt, has tarnished the image of SA abroad , set back the fight against HIV and cannot be trusted with his friends’ children.
A very different example was COPE’s decision last year to team up with the Democratic Alliance (DA) in defence of labour brokers. Trade unions and ordinary workers were the irrational enemies and the middlemen of the economy, labour brokers, were the good guys working in service of the very ungrateful workers, who were now thoughtlessly seeking their dissolution.
Here is the heart of the matter. On both issues, COPE fundamentally misread the political landscape. They made huge strategic errors by picking the wrong issue to focus on. Their timing as well as their stance on issues have been out of kilter with what really matters to most people. These strategic missteps aggravated the more famous weaknesses.
It is tempting to think that COPE is in fact spot-on with its views on Babygate. It seems both liberal elitists and conservative communitarians are disappointed with Zuma. For once, Mbeki’s two nations are on the same wavelength about something. Right?
No. The liberal media has grossly exaggerated this story. In fact, they are simply getting it wrong, again. And COPE is lazily, if understandably, going along with the hype.
No one has bothered to send out reporters to the far corners of the country — or even city — to do a proper audit of what most South Africans think. One weekly newspaper sent a lone reporter on a solitary taxi ride through northern Jo’burg and then used the soliloquy of one angry old gogo to lie to its readers rather melodramatically by claiming that “people at taxi ranks everywhere” think that Zuma is not fit to govern anymore.
Zuma’s position, so the media concludes, has become untenable. One would have thought that a media, with its tail still hiding between its legs from the embarrassment of getting the Zuma story wrong for the past three years, would be more careful about how it collects and weighs the evidence .
The salient point here is that COPE erred strategically by wrongly picking an issue that will simply come and go. Just as COPE wrongly thought morality would be a political deal breaker for most of the electorate (and so chose the unknown churchman Mvume Dandala as its presidential candidate), it has now repeated the error in a desperate bid to become a news item. It needed to separate media hype from realpolitik. Policy issues related to the opening of Parliament rather than morality should have been the subject of a COPE news conference this week.
The labour broker issue was an earlier instant of this pattern of poor strategising. Recall that at the time COPE had been very silent. Its communications boss, Phillip Dexter, had been about as visible as a shy tortoise. Not even the party website said much. So when we finally heard COPE’s name resurfacing, it was with some sense of expectation. Lo and behold, they then made two rudimentary mistakes: first, teaming up with the DA and thereby playing into the African National Congress (ANC) narrative that they are a black version of the DA; second, choosing the wrong side of the broker issue. Of course, COPE may simply have been intellectually honest.
Politics, however, is presumably as much about power as it is about truth. If so, effective strategising is critical. COPE has never understood this elementary rule.
When you are up against an incumbent monster such as the ANC, with its irritating monopoly on the liberation narrative and access to state resources, you need to play smart. A leadership conference and a policy symposium are useful. But they will not stop imminent death unless you also think strategically like a skilled Russian chess player. Time will tell if it is all too late for COPE.
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=93524
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
No grand rhetoric, no detail either
PRESIDENT Jacob Zuma ’s poor public speaking skill inflicts serious injury on the senses. The opening moments of his state of the nation address were delivered with visible nervousness. While we have become used to needlessly long grammatical pauses mid-sentence whenever he reads from a script, he seemed more anxious than usual. It was difficult to gauge whether this is the culmination of the personal and political challenges he has experienced of late or whether the sense of occasion was simply overwhelming. Or, perhaps, both.
Given this characteristically poor public speaking performance, perhaps it is a blessing in disguise that the speech did not celebrate history quite as dramatically as many had expected.
The president is no praise singer. Still, the time and emphasis placed on spelling out, acknowledging and celebrating the roles of Nelson Mandela, the liberation movements and the less intransigent leaders in the National Party, was surprisingly thin.
Given how the Zuma spin doctors have been trying to milk our collective memories about the Mandela magic by linking the fortunes of the Zuma legacy to that of Mandela’s with buzz words like “reconciliation”, this underemphasis on Mandela’s role in Zuma’s speech was probably a strategic mistake. It was also inappropriate, given the historical significance on the day.
This could be generously interpreted as the president simply getting on with what matters: questions of policy. A history lesson is not as crucial as achieving a better life all.
After all, the country’s problems will still be real the morning after the celebration of our democratic miracle.
The problem, however, is that the president’s speech was a mixed success on the policy front.
There was a visible avoidance, on the whole, of offering measurable targets. Instead, a list of political truisms was trotted out such as a commitment to ensure the maintenance and expansion of the roads and rail networks. This was not accompanied by numbers that audit state performance in these and other areas, or analysis of why delivery had been poor or slow.
There were no clear success criteria combined with plans for arresting these developmental weaknesses in future. It had the tenor of an election campaign speech rather than a genuine businesslike assessment of the material health of the country. We were simply promised, for example, that ministers had been instructed to “attend to the outstanding matters.”
Two crucial issues that were, fortunately, dealt with not just thematically but in clearer detail were education and rural development. They fall in the ruling party’s policy priority areas, so this was to be expected. The president cited the example of a comprehensive rural development programme in Giyani, Limpopo, which has started to yield some material benefits. A measurable target is the government’s commitment to replicate this success in 160 wards by 2014. It is up to the electorate to hold it to this promise.
Opposition parties are, of course, still baying for Zuma’s political blood after the “Babygate” scandal of the past few weeks. They were daring him to apologise again or make some noises on the issue in the context of his speaking about the AIDS pandemic. Zuma wisely ignored the elephant in the room even in the face of booing from the opposition when he spoke about government commitment to continue fighting the scourge and chuckles when he later mentioned the name of Irvin Khoza.
By the end, the president had delivered a speech that sorely lacked the rhetorical gusto demanded by the occasion.
This might have been forgivable if the speech’s content made up for the limp public speaking performance. But it did not. It listed broad areas of government focus whose importance no sensible citizen can disagree with. The proof is in the detail. And yet, on the detail front, we were simply urged to accept at face value that a better life for all will yet be attained. Measurable outcomes, clear plans and success criteria remained elusive.
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=93575
Given this characteristically poor public speaking performance, perhaps it is a blessing in disguise that the speech did not celebrate history quite as dramatically as many had expected.
The president is no praise singer. Still, the time and emphasis placed on spelling out, acknowledging and celebrating the roles of Nelson Mandela, the liberation movements and the less intransigent leaders in the National Party, was surprisingly thin.
Given how the Zuma spin doctors have been trying to milk our collective memories about the Mandela magic by linking the fortunes of the Zuma legacy to that of Mandela’s with buzz words like “reconciliation”, this underemphasis on Mandela’s role in Zuma’s speech was probably a strategic mistake. It was also inappropriate, given the historical significance on the day.
This could be generously interpreted as the president simply getting on with what matters: questions of policy. A history lesson is not as crucial as achieving a better life all.
After all, the country’s problems will still be real the morning after the celebration of our democratic miracle.
The problem, however, is that the president’s speech was a mixed success on the policy front.
There was a visible avoidance, on the whole, of offering measurable targets. Instead, a list of political truisms was trotted out such as a commitment to ensure the maintenance and expansion of the roads and rail networks. This was not accompanied by numbers that audit state performance in these and other areas, or analysis of why delivery had been poor or slow.
There were no clear success criteria combined with plans for arresting these developmental weaknesses in future. It had the tenor of an election campaign speech rather than a genuine businesslike assessment of the material health of the country. We were simply promised, for example, that ministers had been instructed to “attend to the outstanding matters.”
Two crucial issues that were, fortunately, dealt with not just thematically but in clearer detail were education and rural development. They fall in the ruling party’s policy priority areas, so this was to be expected. The president cited the example of a comprehensive rural development programme in Giyani, Limpopo, which has started to yield some material benefits. A measurable target is the government’s commitment to replicate this success in 160 wards by 2014. It is up to the electorate to hold it to this promise.
Opposition parties are, of course, still baying for Zuma’s political blood after the “Babygate” scandal of the past few weeks. They were daring him to apologise again or make some noises on the issue in the context of his speaking about the AIDS pandemic. Zuma wisely ignored the elephant in the room even in the face of booing from the opposition when he spoke about government commitment to continue fighting the scourge and chuckles when he later mentioned the name of Irvin Khoza.
By the end, the president had delivered a speech that sorely lacked the rhetorical gusto demanded by the occasion.
This might have been forgivable if the speech’s content made up for the limp public speaking performance. But it did not. It listed broad areas of government focus whose importance no sensible citizen can disagree with. The proof is in the detail. And yet, on the detail front, we were simply urged to accept at face value that a better life for all will yet be attained. Measurable outcomes, clear plans and success criteria remained elusive.
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=93575
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Jacob Zuma's not the messiah
The chattering classes have developed a voyeuristic obsession with President Jacob Zuma's sexuality. This raises a prickly old question. To what extent can a country's president reasonably expect the most intimate facts about his or her life to be shielded from public scrutiny and moral judgment?
If Zuma's election to the highest office is anything to go by, it would certainly seem that a majority of South Africans do not consider his private antics a deal breaker. This makes the electorate far more sensible than the chattering classes. While it is certainly reasonable to expect minimal moral decency from our leaders, we also need to temper our expectations so that we do not inadvertently look to public officials for an excessive amount of moral guidance.
It is difficult to get a grip on what exactly the source of anger and disappointment towards Zuma is. One worry is that he is a hypocrite. He preached safe sex and faithfulness on World Aids Day last year and now it all turns out to have been a case of, "Do as I say, not as I do!"
A different argument is hooked to the HIV/AIDS pandemic. Government messaging about HIV/AIDS requires the president to demonstrate the kind of behaviour government would like us all to engage in. That includes not having sexual relationships outside your marriages. And if you must, at least use a condom.
Are these arguments convincing? And how do we assess them in relation to the bigger question of whether or not we should, in the first place, care about the private lives of our leaders?
Setting aside the soundness of these arguments for a minute, it is worth speculating about the motivation behind their advancement. It is far from obvious that critics advance them with a sincere interest in political morality. In his most recent book, The Democratic Moment, Xolela Mangcu rehearses an argument he has made elsewhere. Mangcu argues that an important driver of the elite's dislike of Zuma is something of a cultural aesthetic objection to Zuma. It is generally preferable for the soundness of arguments to be logically assessed rather than the motivations of the objector being questioned. However, Mangcu may be onto something in his pop psychologising about Zuma's detractors.
Here is why. When pressed, many people - analysts, journalists, politicians, academics and the chattering classes included - are unable to articulate cogent objections to Zuma's moral shortcomings. And even when some of the objections demonstrably run out of steam, opposition often persists. This lends credence to the pop diagnosis that all this has actually little to do with Zuma. It says more about the distance between what Zuma represents and how some of us define ourselves.
If I define myself as a liberal individualist, speaking the Queen's English, brag about being highly educated and enjoy cocktails around northern Johannesburg, I do not want my cultural landscape to be spoilt by a cheating polygamist in traditional garb at the dinner table next to mine. But notice that, secretly, I am less offended by the immorality of the cheater's lifestyle or his ignorance about substantive gender equality than I am offended by the mere sight of him. He becomes as unwelcome in my worldview as the beggar at the street corner.
It is, at the heart of it, an aesthetic objection and not a principled one. This is the emotional fuel that sustains the arguments against Zuma's infidelity. The actual soundness of some of those arguments is a convenient reality. The cogency of the arguments masks a mischievous elitism. This is why the so-called masses are less fazed about Zuma's existence than the rest of us. They do not share enough of the wealth and elitism that we have a hold over to care as deeply about Zuma's moral failings.
This does not mean that the two arguments set out at the beginning are without merit. Hypocrisy in a leader is certainly not desirable. It is inimical to building trust. Equally, being a decent role model is important. We are therefore justified to be collectively disappointed by Zuma. He let us down. The question is how we should respond to this sense of disappointment. And, as a general rule, how much should we care about the private lives of our politicians?
It seems to me that the near hysteria with which some commentators and media analysts have responded to the whole saga is almost as embarrassing as Zuma's indiscretion itself. Zuma has much more important weaknesses that should give us cause for concern. For example, does he have the capacity to speak confidently to important policy questions - foreign policy, climate change, crime, education, health etc.?
Does he have the capacity to strike a balance between his famed penchant for listening and showing clear leadership in relation to tensions within the alliance? Can he put a view of his own - and not one that is handed to him by the African National Congress - on any of the sexy issues of the day, like nationalisation of the mines, for example? I very much doubt Zuma's leadership on these fronts. An assessment of his character in relation to these challenges is much more important than whether or not he is a paragon of moral virtue.
If his bedroom life could shed light on whether he can lead us effectively on these policy fronts, then details about his sexuality would take on more obvious relevance. But they do not. Whether or not Zuma had sex with Sonono Khoza does not tell me whether he has the ability to steer us through a recession. It just tells me that he is a ‘player' like many of us.
And even in relation to HIV/AIDS, it is deeply condescending towards South Africans - including those with less formal education than the rest of us - to think they will emulate Zuma as if he is their God. We do not and should not worship Zuma like a bunch of comical followers in Monty Python's Life of Bryan misjudging who the messiah is.
Ultimately, it is very dangerous to expect too much of our leaders. For one thing, we provide a disincentive for potentially talented young South Africans to enter politics. In this internet age, with information about our lives even more easily accessible than usual, potential public servants would have real reason to fear being embarrassed about their personal failures becoming needless public laundry.
The French model of respecting privacy is much more desirable than, say, the American obsession with every detail of a leader's life. Most importantly, we set ourselves up for unnecessary collective depression if we seriously think we can take our moral cue from political leaders who are no less human and no less fragile than the rest of us.
This is not license to behave hypocritically or to be a poor role model. But it is reason for us to temper our expectations and to guard against the kind of unthinking moral hysteria we are witnessing in the media.
Let's render the president a less important figure than he might like to be.
If Zuma's election to the highest office is anything to go by, it would certainly seem that a majority of South Africans do not consider his private antics a deal breaker. This makes the electorate far more sensible than the chattering classes. While it is certainly reasonable to expect minimal moral decency from our leaders, we also need to temper our expectations so that we do not inadvertently look to public officials for an excessive amount of moral guidance.
It is difficult to get a grip on what exactly the source of anger and disappointment towards Zuma is. One worry is that he is a hypocrite. He preached safe sex and faithfulness on World Aids Day last year and now it all turns out to have been a case of, "Do as I say, not as I do!"
A different argument is hooked to the HIV/AIDS pandemic. Government messaging about HIV/AIDS requires the president to demonstrate the kind of behaviour government would like us all to engage in. That includes not having sexual relationships outside your marriages. And if you must, at least use a condom.
Are these arguments convincing? And how do we assess them in relation to the bigger question of whether or not we should, in the first place, care about the private lives of our leaders?
Setting aside the soundness of these arguments for a minute, it is worth speculating about the motivation behind their advancement. It is far from obvious that critics advance them with a sincere interest in political morality. In his most recent book, The Democratic Moment, Xolela Mangcu rehearses an argument he has made elsewhere. Mangcu argues that an important driver of the elite's dislike of Zuma is something of a cultural aesthetic objection to Zuma. It is generally preferable for the soundness of arguments to be logically assessed rather than the motivations of the objector being questioned. However, Mangcu may be onto something in his pop psychologising about Zuma's detractors.
Here is why. When pressed, many people - analysts, journalists, politicians, academics and the chattering classes included - are unable to articulate cogent objections to Zuma's moral shortcomings. And even when some of the objections demonstrably run out of steam, opposition often persists. This lends credence to the pop diagnosis that all this has actually little to do with Zuma. It says more about the distance between what Zuma represents and how some of us define ourselves.
If I define myself as a liberal individualist, speaking the Queen's English, brag about being highly educated and enjoy cocktails around northern Johannesburg, I do not want my cultural landscape to be spoilt by a cheating polygamist in traditional garb at the dinner table next to mine. But notice that, secretly, I am less offended by the immorality of the cheater's lifestyle or his ignorance about substantive gender equality than I am offended by the mere sight of him. He becomes as unwelcome in my worldview as the beggar at the street corner.
It is, at the heart of it, an aesthetic objection and not a principled one. This is the emotional fuel that sustains the arguments against Zuma's infidelity. The actual soundness of some of those arguments is a convenient reality. The cogency of the arguments masks a mischievous elitism. This is why the so-called masses are less fazed about Zuma's existence than the rest of us. They do not share enough of the wealth and elitism that we have a hold over to care as deeply about Zuma's moral failings.
This does not mean that the two arguments set out at the beginning are without merit. Hypocrisy in a leader is certainly not desirable. It is inimical to building trust. Equally, being a decent role model is important. We are therefore justified to be collectively disappointed by Zuma. He let us down. The question is how we should respond to this sense of disappointment. And, as a general rule, how much should we care about the private lives of our politicians?
It seems to me that the near hysteria with which some commentators and media analysts have responded to the whole saga is almost as embarrassing as Zuma's indiscretion itself. Zuma has much more important weaknesses that should give us cause for concern. For example, does he have the capacity to speak confidently to important policy questions - foreign policy, climate change, crime, education, health etc.?
Does he have the capacity to strike a balance between his famed penchant for listening and showing clear leadership in relation to tensions within the alliance? Can he put a view of his own - and not one that is handed to him by the African National Congress - on any of the sexy issues of the day, like nationalisation of the mines, for example? I very much doubt Zuma's leadership on these fronts. An assessment of his character in relation to these challenges is much more important than whether or not he is a paragon of moral virtue.
If his bedroom life could shed light on whether he can lead us effectively on these policy fronts, then details about his sexuality would take on more obvious relevance. But they do not. Whether or not Zuma had sex with Sonono Khoza does not tell me whether he has the ability to steer us through a recession. It just tells me that he is a ‘player' like many of us.
And even in relation to HIV/AIDS, it is deeply condescending towards South Africans - including those with less formal education than the rest of us - to think they will emulate Zuma as if he is their God. We do not and should not worship Zuma like a bunch of comical followers in Monty Python's Life of Bryan misjudging who the messiah is.
Ultimately, it is very dangerous to expect too much of our leaders. For one thing, we provide a disincentive for potentially talented young South Africans to enter politics. In this internet age, with information about our lives even more easily accessible than usual, potential public servants would have real reason to fear being embarrassed about their personal failures becoming needless public laundry.
The French model of respecting privacy is much more desirable than, say, the American obsession with every detail of a leader's life. Most importantly, we set ourselves up for unnecessary collective depression if we seriously think we can take our moral cue from political leaders who are no less human and no less fragile than the rest of us.
This is not license to behave hypocritically or to be a poor role model. But it is reason for us to temper our expectations and to guard against the kind of unthinking moral hysteria we are witnessing in the media.
Let's render the president a less important figure than he might like to be.
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