WHAT does a South African do when he has absolutely no idea what else to try? Set up a commission of inquiry, a review commission or a panel of experts. These phrases are as much a part of the policy lexicon in this country as losing crunch matches is a part of our national cricket team’s psyche.
The latest commission is tasked with reviewing the roles and functioning of our various state-owned enterprises. So we can expect for the umpteenth time to hear tired ideological arguments about the merits and demerits of privatisation being rehearsed.
It does not, however, take an expensive German strategy consultant or an overzealous MBA graduate to realise that the problems with our state-owned enterprises are fundamentally practical rather than ideological. This is not to say that politics or ideology are irrelevant in making sense of, and reversing, problems within our state-owned enterprises. But these political aspects often obscure other realities of equal importance.
These other realities are much more mundane and so generate less excitement; they lie on the strategic, operational and organisational fronts. The review commission would do well to reflect on how political leadership can lend a hand on these fronts rather than mostly kicking around high-level arguments about the general pros and cons of full or partial privatisation.
A simple example illustrates the point bluntly. One of Transnet’s near permanent problems is delivering coal to Eskom in time to generate enough electricity so we can watch Generations uninterrupted. This requires Transnet to deliver the contracted amount of coal tonnage and to do so within the agreed times. Yet, every year Transnet falls short of what they need to deliver.
This is sad for a couple of reasons. First, it is cheaper to rail coal to some power stations than it is to transport the stuff by road. Second, the trucks that do the road transportation kill pedestrians more often than trains do. Third, the carbon emissions from our trains are less than those from the trucks, which is not an unimportant consideration in this green day and age . It is therefore cheaper, safer and greener to have ramped-up coal volumes delivered to Eskom by rail. This would result in a net saving on the production cost of electricity and ultimately reduce our electricity tariffs.
Transnet keeps failing to deliver. Shockingly, it fails to deliver because of embarrassingly basic operational and organisational inefficiencies that could easily be fixed. The core problem, to take our case study further, is that the turnaround time for getting trains from coal mines to a power station and back to the mines is much higher than what any optimisation model tells us it should be.
It is here, however, that common sense and practical insight overtake politics and ideology. If a train breaks down, and a driver needs an engineer, it does not help if he does not know who to call. Or, if a driver’s eight- hour driving shift is over, but the train itself has not yet reached journey’s end, then a replacement driver needs to be waiting at the spot where the current driver will get off.
This requires a manager in charge of his drivers to know every train’s journey, map out on a white-board the times when trains will reach key points along the route, and then get the drivers assigned to start at appropriate times at appropriate spots with a bakkie or kombi ready to shuffle them around.
I have no doubt that discussing such practical intervention sounds about as exciting as listening to the president deliver his state of the nation speech. But that is exactly my point. Politicians need to restrict their role to allowing career civil servants to get on with it. That should be the point of political oversight.
You do this not by deploying a cadre to head Transnet Freight Rail but rather appointing someone with a nerdish, career- long obsession with trains and goods. That is the sort of person who will get excited about what business teachers call spaghetti charts and figuring out how to untangle them. Such folks have the know-how to help a team think through the operational inefficiencies that prevent a place like Transnet from having trains that run at the optimal turnaround time when they take coal to customers such as Eskom.
Political appointees often cannot even understand the PowerPoint presentations of pricey consultants. Many are semiliterate, financially, and certainly not apt to lend a hand in brainstorming micro-level inefficiencies within their particular enterprise.
A couple of important conclusions follow. First, political leadership and oversight of our state-owned enterprises are not inherently poisonous. Rather, political oversight needs to be aimed at improving state-owned enterprises operationally, organisationally and strategically. The old privatisation debate is a red herring. Second, and related, political oversight should be provided at the highest levels, coming from directors-general and cabinet ministers. Within the state-owned enterprises themselves, appointments, right up to CEO level, should be based solely on industry knowledge and expertise.
Fewer commissions, better industry headhunting and greater capacity development are the things that the president should be insisting on. If not, the developmental state will remain a dream deferred.
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=108977
Friday, May 14, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Mbeki government's Aids denialism in chilling detail
Debunking Delusions; The inside story of the TAC
by:Natahan Geffen
Jacana Media 2010
review: Eusebius McKaiser
Nathan Geffen's admirably balanced and meticulously crafted Debunking Delusions; The inside story of the Treatment Action Campaign is a proverbial page turner.
The book is a permanent public record of our country's shameful recent history of state-sponsored Aids denialism, and highlights the proliferation of quack remedies for HIV and Aids.
You walk away with a palpable sense that we ought, in Mandela-speak, "never again" to allow a South African government to get away with callous disregard for evidence-informed health policy interventions in the face of a public health challenge.
Geffen tells the denialism story in chilling detail. It is bad enough that quacks may emerge of their own accord, courtesy of delusions of ideological grandeur. But the lifespan of such evidence-averse quacks, not unlike flies attracted to a dustbin promising sustenance, can be lengthened by a culpable political leadership whose wayward beliefs and actions conduce to their existence. The middle chapters are self-contained studies of some of the bigger names in Aids denialism like Tine van der Maas and Matthias Rath, individuals who are not merely destructive on their own but particularly so in the context of a state machinery that legitimised their pseudo-scientific gobbledegook.
Geffen quotes Van der Maas in an exchange about her methodology for testing the efficacy of her garlic and olive oil remedy. Asked whether she had monitored the remedy's impact on patients, she responded, "when you do not hear from patients, they usually are doing well. If they have a problem, they usually phone...".
Besides these remedies not being endorsed by any peer-reviewed, respectable scientific journal, sheer commonsense would suggest that a needlessly dead human being cannot pick up a phone. It is truly mindboggling that supposedly educated folk with reflective capacities, including Thabo Mbeki or Manto Tshabalala-Msimang, could have been enthralled by the likes of Van der Maas.
These quacks are not the cause of political denialism. The relationship between quacks and other denialists is one of mutual dependency. The quacks found a political environment that enabled them to peddle their wares. The political denialists, in turn, were given pseudo-scientific language to justify irrational conspiracies about racism-fuelled, Western-led pharmaceutical attacks on black Africans.
Geffen reminds us, for example, of a former provincial health minister, Peggy Nkonyeni, who once claimed "... that there is this thing called bioterrorism or biological warfare. This is where people can manufacture a virus and target a particular community that will be spread amongst a group of the population".
The ridiculous implication, of course, is that HIV is an invented weapon of mass destruction.
The book includes some honest discussions that give it intellectual balance. There is a remarkable discussion, for example, about shortcomings of the first AZT trial. This trial lasted less than six months and consequently the medium-term impact of the drug was not well-understood. This, in turn, resulted in the initial marketing of the drug being based on an exaggerated set of claims about its efficacy, side-effects, and so on.
Needless to say, treatment for HIV and Aids have come a long way since, and the overall efficacy of AZT and other anti-retroviral drugs are beyond medical dispute.
The book suffers two excusable shortcomings. The minor shortcoming is that it was a literary mistake to try and weave into the overall analysis a subtext about the life of one Andile Madondile.
This was Geffen's attempt to pull a Johnny Steinberg by offering us a bit of narrative journalism. We were supposed to see the human side of the quackery story. But this device does not work. One long soliloquy is placed in the mouth of Madondile. His story does not span the book. We do not get to know him. This tactic was unnecessary. There is a place for that kind of narrative and it's in a project where the person's actual life takes centre-stage in a full study of the human impact of denialism.
Most importantly, the subtitle of the book is inaccurate. As Geffen states: "After nine years of non-stop fighting with the pharmaceutical industry and government, the TAC leadership, worn out and cranky, had an unpleasant internal fight in 2007, resulting in several high-profile resignations.
"Having been involved in that argument, and having the utmost respect for my colleagues with whom I fell out, I will not say more on this."
It is therefore a marketing ploy to describe the book as the inside story of the TAC. That story has yet to be told. But this is not a big tragedy. What the book is actually about is something of greater public importance, a well-written account of a social movement's brilliant role in holding a stubborn state and government responsible for its immoral political actions. Geffen can be more than proud of this illuminating effort.
http://www.sundayindependent.co.za/index.php?fArticleId=5461716
by:Natahan Geffen
Jacana Media 2010
review: Eusebius McKaiser
Nathan Geffen's admirably balanced and meticulously crafted Debunking Delusions; The inside story of the Treatment Action Campaign is a proverbial page turner.
The book is a permanent public record of our country's shameful recent history of state-sponsored Aids denialism, and highlights the proliferation of quack remedies for HIV and Aids.
You walk away with a palpable sense that we ought, in Mandela-speak, "never again" to allow a South African government to get away with callous disregard for evidence-informed health policy interventions in the face of a public health challenge.
Geffen tells the denialism story in chilling detail. It is bad enough that quacks may emerge of their own accord, courtesy of delusions of ideological grandeur. But the lifespan of such evidence-averse quacks, not unlike flies attracted to a dustbin promising sustenance, can be lengthened by a culpable political leadership whose wayward beliefs and actions conduce to their existence. The middle chapters are self-contained studies of some of the bigger names in Aids denialism like Tine van der Maas and Matthias Rath, individuals who are not merely destructive on their own but particularly so in the context of a state machinery that legitimised their pseudo-scientific gobbledegook.
Geffen quotes Van der Maas in an exchange about her methodology for testing the efficacy of her garlic and olive oil remedy. Asked whether she had monitored the remedy's impact on patients, she responded, "when you do not hear from patients, they usually are doing well. If they have a problem, they usually phone...".
Besides these remedies not being endorsed by any peer-reviewed, respectable scientific journal, sheer commonsense would suggest that a needlessly dead human being cannot pick up a phone. It is truly mindboggling that supposedly educated folk with reflective capacities, including Thabo Mbeki or Manto Tshabalala-Msimang, could have been enthralled by the likes of Van der Maas.
These quacks are not the cause of political denialism. The relationship between quacks and other denialists is one of mutual dependency. The quacks found a political environment that enabled them to peddle their wares. The political denialists, in turn, were given pseudo-scientific language to justify irrational conspiracies about racism-fuelled, Western-led pharmaceutical attacks on black Africans.
Geffen reminds us, for example, of a former provincial health minister, Peggy Nkonyeni, who once claimed "... that there is this thing called bioterrorism or biological warfare. This is where people can manufacture a virus and target a particular community that will be spread amongst a group of the population".
The ridiculous implication, of course, is that HIV is an invented weapon of mass destruction.
The book includes some honest discussions that give it intellectual balance. There is a remarkable discussion, for example, about shortcomings of the first AZT trial. This trial lasted less than six months and consequently the medium-term impact of the drug was not well-understood. This, in turn, resulted in the initial marketing of the drug being based on an exaggerated set of claims about its efficacy, side-effects, and so on.
Needless to say, treatment for HIV and Aids have come a long way since, and the overall efficacy of AZT and other anti-retroviral drugs are beyond medical dispute.
The book suffers two excusable shortcomings. The minor shortcoming is that it was a literary mistake to try and weave into the overall analysis a subtext about the life of one Andile Madondile.
This was Geffen's attempt to pull a Johnny Steinberg by offering us a bit of narrative journalism. We were supposed to see the human side of the quackery story. But this device does not work. One long soliloquy is placed in the mouth of Madondile. His story does not span the book. We do not get to know him. This tactic was unnecessary. There is a place for that kind of narrative and it's in a project where the person's actual life takes centre-stage in a full study of the human impact of denialism.
Most importantly, the subtitle of the book is inaccurate. As Geffen states: "After nine years of non-stop fighting with the pharmaceutical industry and government, the TAC leadership, worn out and cranky, had an unpleasant internal fight in 2007, resulting in several high-profile resignations.
"Having been involved in that argument, and having the utmost respect for my colleagues with whom I fell out, I will not say more on this."
It is therefore a marketing ploy to describe the book as the inside story of the TAC. That story has yet to be told. But this is not a big tragedy. What the book is actually about is something of greater public importance, a well-written account of a social movement's brilliant role in holding a stubborn state and government responsible for its immoral political actions. Geffen can be more than proud of this illuminating effort.
http://www.sundayindependent.co.za/index.php?fArticleId=5461716
Friday, May 7, 2010
Zuma's thoughts and other metaphysical puzzles
BETWEEN Jacob Zuma and the African National Congress (ANC) we are presented with some really cool metaphysical puzzles.
The best way to make pretentious concepts such as “metaphysics” come alive is to use real-world examples. I tried this the other day while waiting in vain for Julius Malema to reappear on the news circuit. Well, it turns out Zuma and the ANC do not just provide useful material for the comedy circuit; it struck me that they also provide pretty useful material for teaching purposes.
Some black humour might add a little bit of ayoba flavour to a discipline that must be traditionally white if it is called metaphysics. After all, there is no Pedi word for metaphysics, so it must be a subject with a white tendency.
Metaphysics is that branch of philosophy that tries to make sense of the fundamental nature of reality, including such migraine- inducing questions as whether there is a reality beyond what we can sense and, if so, what the nature of this reality might be. Deep stuff indeed. Not to be trotted out at an ANC branch meeting. Though, mind you, it might well be confused for struggle-speak, so perhaps becoming a metaphysician is an as yet unexplored first step towards tenderpreneurship. A metaphysician may well manage to come across like a comrade whose pocket size does not determine his social consciousness. Who knows? But I digress.
Enters Bra Jacob. One of our senses, the auditory one, tells us the man can speak. We can trust our senses, despite Descartes’ silly protestations that we should not. We hear the president speak all the time . But, here’s the big problem nevertheless, does the man actually have any thoughts? Now there is a tricky metaphysical puzzle.
I genuinely don’t know whether Zuma has any thoughts. A new close friend of mine, who is an excellent researcher and public commentator, ventured a confident “No, Zuma has no thoughts!” over a highbrow dinner the other night. But maybe she was just being tjatjarag or acting like a coconut intellectual. And she is from Cape Town which, as cities go, really is a bloody agent.
You see, we usually assume that words strung together coherently and uttered through a man’s lips must be evidence of mental activity, even if we cannot observe thoughts. But usually you and I say things that at least hint at our private convictions that we can think. Zuma does not even hint at believing he has thoughts.
Malema, for example, certainly thinks he has thoughts, as in when he might say: “I, Kiddie Amin, am in the possession of the revolutionary thought that all mines should be nationalised.” Or, as Matthews Phosa, ANC treasurer-general might say: “I think the thought that this Hitachi deal with Chancellor House should be ended, comrades, lest other dodgy deals get exposed soon too!”
Obviously claiming you have thoughts does not guarantee you have them. For all we know, Malema may not be in possession of a naughty thought at all but may merely be in possession of an empty vessel. In fact, that might even be likely since it would perfectly explain the noise we are subjected to.
Still, there is something to be said for a man or woman at least asserting that they have self-knowledge about the inside of their heads. And I would have thought that any political leader worth his salt had better be sure he possesses thoughts about things such as mining, nationalisation and party funding. For all his silliness, Malema puts stuff on the debate table for us to shred to logical pieces. Bra Jacob, on the other hand, gives us nothing because he has nothing to give. He has no thoughts, by his own admission.
That much was made clear the other day, for example, in an interview carried by City Press. Asked for his view on the whole Chancellor House embarrassment, he chuckled and said: “You want me to enter the fray?” It was meant as a rhetorical response, Bra Jacob’s way of telling the interviewers not to embarrass themselves by asking questions that assume that he, Zuma, the president of the most powerful country in Africa, possesses thoughts. Zuma helped them out by suggesting that some other person, called the “ANC”, has a view on the matter, to which he defers.
Now that brings me to the second puzzle. Who and what the hell is the ANC? I’m seriously confused. These comrades talk about the ANC like it is some human being with a body and mind of its own. It exists. Everywhere. And has thoughts. Not unlike an omnipresent Higher Power. Which explains why all ANC cadres fear the ANC. The ANC must be a scary, elusive, dictatorial father figure. I wonder if he or she has ever revealed themselves to anyone?
Whether the ANC exists and what its true nature is remains a metaphysical migraine my small analyst mind can’t solve. The same goes for determining the nature of what lurks (or not) in Zuma’s head. It’s much easier to learn to blow a vuvuzela.
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=108295
The best way to make pretentious concepts such as “metaphysics” come alive is to use real-world examples. I tried this the other day while waiting in vain for Julius Malema to reappear on the news circuit. Well, it turns out Zuma and the ANC do not just provide useful material for the comedy circuit; it struck me that they also provide pretty useful material for teaching purposes.
Some black humour might add a little bit of ayoba flavour to a discipline that must be traditionally white if it is called metaphysics. After all, there is no Pedi word for metaphysics, so it must be a subject with a white tendency.
Metaphysics is that branch of philosophy that tries to make sense of the fundamental nature of reality, including such migraine- inducing questions as whether there is a reality beyond what we can sense and, if so, what the nature of this reality might be. Deep stuff indeed. Not to be trotted out at an ANC branch meeting. Though, mind you, it might well be confused for struggle-speak, so perhaps becoming a metaphysician is an as yet unexplored first step towards tenderpreneurship. A metaphysician may well manage to come across like a comrade whose pocket size does not determine his social consciousness. Who knows? But I digress.
Enters Bra Jacob. One of our senses, the auditory one, tells us the man can speak. We can trust our senses, despite Descartes’ silly protestations that we should not. We hear the president speak all the time . But, here’s the big problem nevertheless, does the man actually have any thoughts? Now there is a tricky metaphysical puzzle.
I genuinely don’t know whether Zuma has any thoughts. A new close friend of mine, who is an excellent researcher and public commentator, ventured a confident “No, Zuma has no thoughts!” over a highbrow dinner the other night. But maybe she was just being tjatjarag or acting like a coconut intellectual. And she is from Cape Town which, as cities go, really is a bloody agent.
You see, we usually assume that words strung together coherently and uttered through a man’s lips must be evidence of mental activity, even if we cannot observe thoughts. But usually you and I say things that at least hint at our private convictions that we can think. Zuma does not even hint at believing he has thoughts.
Malema, for example, certainly thinks he has thoughts, as in when he might say: “I, Kiddie Amin, am in the possession of the revolutionary thought that all mines should be nationalised.” Or, as Matthews Phosa, ANC treasurer-general might say: “I think the thought that this Hitachi deal with Chancellor House should be ended, comrades, lest other dodgy deals get exposed soon too!”
Obviously claiming you have thoughts does not guarantee you have them. For all we know, Malema may not be in possession of a naughty thought at all but may merely be in possession of an empty vessel. In fact, that might even be likely since it would perfectly explain the noise we are subjected to.
Still, there is something to be said for a man or woman at least asserting that they have self-knowledge about the inside of their heads. And I would have thought that any political leader worth his salt had better be sure he possesses thoughts about things such as mining, nationalisation and party funding. For all his silliness, Malema puts stuff on the debate table for us to shred to logical pieces. Bra Jacob, on the other hand, gives us nothing because he has nothing to give. He has no thoughts, by his own admission.
That much was made clear the other day, for example, in an interview carried by City Press. Asked for his view on the whole Chancellor House embarrassment, he chuckled and said: “You want me to enter the fray?” It was meant as a rhetorical response, Bra Jacob’s way of telling the interviewers not to embarrass themselves by asking questions that assume that he, Zuma, the president of the most powerful country in Africa, possesses thoughts. Zuma helped them out by suggesting that some other person, called the “ANC”, has a view on the matter, to which he defers.
Now that brings me to the second puzzle. Who and what the hell is the ANC? I’m seriously confused. These comrades talk about the ANC like it is some human being with a body and mind of its own. It exists. Everywhere. And has thoughts. Not unlike an omnipresent Higher Power. Which explains why all ANC cadres fear the ANC. The ANC must be a scary, elusive, dictatorial father figure. I wonder if he or she has ever revealed themselves to anyone?
Whether the ANC exists and what its true nature is remains a metaphysical migraine my small analyst mind can’t solve. The same goes for determining the nature of what lurks (or not) in Zuma’s head. It’s much easier to learn to blow a vuvuzela.
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=108295
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Real freedom still eludes most South Africans
I DESPERATELY wanted to give a feel- good answer when asked by a talk show host what I made of Freedom Day on Tuesday. There is so much we have achieved since apartheid’s demise that counts in favour of warm and fuzzy celebrations.
We are free to sleep with someone who looks different from ourselves. We are free to roam the streets of any suburb. We are free to buy property anywhere. We are free to vote in regular elections. We are free to write what we like. We are free to speak our minds. We are free to form political parties.
We are, it would seem, free to be who we truly want to be.
Freedom seems alive and well in this weird and wonderful country of ours. Add a vuvuzela, a Bafana Bafana shirt and a 750ml bottle of Castle Lager all set to the Toto song, Miss the rains down in Africa, and only pre-prison Eugene TerreBlanche would not feel positively drunk with the insatiable taste of democratic freedom.
But, sorry to spoil the image folks, it is all a big fat lie. A big, fat, unsustainable lie. We’d better own up to reality and step up our national game if we are to avoid looking like a team ranked 90th in the world.
The vast majority of Saffers have not yet experienced Uhuru. The rest of us have no right to celebrate. We have only a right to feel survivor’s guilt.
Freedom is a tricky concept that has kept nerdish political philosophers busy for centuries. Isaiah Berlin, a former Oxford philosopher, distinguished between positive and negative liberty way back in 1958.
For our purposes, we can think of liberty as more or less a fancy term for freedom. Negative freedom means there are no obstacles in your way.
I am not, for example, preventing you from forming a political party by passing a law that says whoever reads this week’s column by McKaiser in Business Day is forbidden from forming a political party. That kind of law would rob you of negative freedom. It would place an obstacle in your path.
Positive freedom, on the other hand, is the presence of something as opposed to the absence of an obstacle. For example, if I give you money to form a political party and to put together a campaign, I am thereby giving you positive freedom. I am placing you in a position to use your negative freedom to effectively pursue goals you value but which could not be pursued in the absence of certain enabling conditions. It is because we value positive freedom that public goods such as education are important. They constitute positive freedom. They enable you to live a full life of your own choosing rather than leaving you free merely to dream.
Here is the unsexy result of this Politics 101 detour. The reason I experience survivor’s guilt on Freedom Day as a black middle-class intelligentsia type is that the vast majority of South Africans do not enjoy positive freedom. They merely enjoy negative freedom.
But negative freedom is pointless. Or, at the risk of self-declared elders rapping me over the knuckles, negative freedom is important but should not be the ultimate point of why we destroyed apartheid.
Yes, the freedom to vote, to live where you want to, to have sex with whoever agrees, to form political parties, to speak your mind and to associate with whom you wish to, are critically important. But we fought for positive freedom. Surely?
If a young Rolihlahla in Qunu is free to live in Houghton but lacks access to goods such as decent education, which would enable him to have a shot at earning power that would in turn lead to him being able to afford a house in Houghton, then Rolihlahla may as well as still be living in an apartheid state.
Negative freedom is what we get excited about on Freedom Day. It is what we wash down our braaied meat with. But we should keep our eye on the deeper goal of liberal democracy, which is the enjoyment of positive freedom by every single South African. In a slogan, we still need social justice for all before we can declare SA a country in which substantive, positive freedom is enjoyed across the country. But how the heck do we get there?
This is a complex question that deserves more than a blog inch or three devoted to it. Forgive my terse suggestion for now. We will get to substantive freedom by doing at least two things.
First, our state is sickly. It suffers from systemic corruption, cronyism and tenderpreneurship.
This needs to stop and be replaced with a new culture of merit- based, career civil service. If there is no political will to effect this change, then let’s vote for a different government.
Second, we need to take responsibility for our own wellbeing. Yes, it is false to claim that most poor people are poor due to laziness or unstrategic life choices. But a mix of a welfare cushion and Steve Biko-inspired psychological independence and self-actualisation could make a huge difference. Democratic SA may have turned 16 this week but it was far from a sweet birthday occasion.
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=107592
We are free to sleep with someone who looks different from ourselves. We are free to roam the streets of any suburb. We are free to buy property anywhere. We are free to vote in regular elections. We are free to write what we like. We are free to speak our minds. We are free to form political parties.
We are, it would seem, free to be who we truly want to be.
Freedom seems alive and well in this weird and wonderful country of ours. Add a vuvuzela, a Bafana Bafana shirt and a 750ml bottle of Castle Lager all set to the Toto song, Miss the rains down in Africa, and only pre-prison Eugene TerreBlanche would not feel positively drunk with the insatiable taste of democratic freedom.
But, sorry to spoil the image folks, it is all a big fat lie. A big, fat, unsustainable lie. We’d better own up to reality and step up our national game if we are to avoid looking like a team ranked 90th in the world.
The vast majority of Saffers have not yet experienced Uhuru. The rest of us have no right to celebrate. We have only a right to feel survivor’s guilt.
Freedom is a tricky concept that has kept nerdish political philosophers busy for centuries. Isaiah Berlin, a former Oxford philosopher, distinguished between positive and negative liberty way back in 1958.
For our purposes, we can think of liberty as more or less a fancy term for freedom. Negative freedom means there are no obstacles in your way.
I am not, for example, preventing you from forming a political party by passing a law that says whoever reads this week’s column by McKaiser in Business Day is forbidden from forming a political party. That kind of law would rob you of negative freedom. It would place an obstacle in your path.
Positive freedom, on the other hand, is the presence of something as opposed to the absence of an obstacle. For example, if I give you money to form a political party and to put together a campaign, I am thereby giving you positive freedom. I am placing you in a position to use your negative freedom to effectively pursue goals you value but which could not be pursued in the absence of certain enabling conditions. It is because we value positive freedom that public goods such as education are important. They constitute positive freedom. They enable you to live a full life of your own choosing rather than leaving you free merely to dream.
Here is the unsexy result of this Politics 101 detour. The reason I experience survivor’s guilt on Freedom Day as a black middle-class intelligentsia type is that the vast majority of South Africans do not enjoy positive freedom. They merely enjoy negative freedom.
But negative freedom is pointless. Or, at the risk of self-declared elders rapping me over the knuckles, negative freedom is important but should not be the ultimate point of why we destroyed apartheid.
Yes, the freedom to vote, to live where you want to, to have sex with whoever agrees, to form political parties, to speak your mind and to associate with whom you wish to, are critically important. But we fought for positive freedom. Surely?
If a young Rolihlahla in Qunu is free to live in Houghton but lacks access to goods such as decent education, which would enable him to have a shot at earning power that would in turn lead to him being able to afford a house in Houghton, then Rolihlahla may as well as still be living in an apartheid state.
Negative freedom is what we get excited about on Freedom Day. It is what we wash down our braaied meat with. But we should keep our eye on the deeper goal of liberal democracy, which is the enjoyment of positive freedom by every single South African. In a slogan, we still need social justice for all before we can declare SA a country in which substantive, positive freedom is enjoyed across the country. But how the heck do we get there?
This is a complex question that deserves more than a blog inch or three devoted to it. Forgive my terse suggestion for now. We will get to substantive freedom by doing at least two things.
First, our state is sickly. It suffers from systemic corruption, cronyism and tenderpreneurship.
This needs to stop and be replaced with a new culture of merit- based, career civil service. If there is no political will to effect this change, then let’s vote for a different government.
Second, we need to take responsibility for our own wellbeing. Yes, it is false to claim that most poor people are poor due to laziness or unstrategic life choices. But a mix of a welfare cushion and Steve Biko-inspired psychological independence and self-actualisation could make a huge difference. Democratic SA may have turned 16 this week but it was far from a sweet birthday occasion.
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=107592
Thursday, April 29, 2010
This house believes that the state is right to ....
Peeps, you are all invited to this debate; it promises to be fascinating!
FREE entry, and great food and drinks served afterwards while we all schmooz pretentiously...
FULL MOTION: This house believes that the state is right to place state-owned enterprises at the centre of economic growth...
FOR THE MOTION: 1) Jak Koseff (brilliant, and brilliantly flamboyant speaker (no, not gay!) & economic policy geek of late .... a comrade now, sans his Hegel days, working for Joburg City);2) Neva Makgetla (excellent economist: chief economist at Development Bank of Southern Africa; Business Day columnist & a speaker that, uhm, one might describe as brutally honest, or as a TV producer friend said, "curt" ... which bodes well for this parliamentary-style debate)
AGAINST THE MOTION: 1) Joe Roussous (weirdo. translation: into maths, and physics. and stuff. Excellent speaker...surprisingly not boring, despite being trained at the Wits Debate Union...should ruffle Koseff's feathers nicely. Fresh from the World Debate Champs);2) Leon Louw (Right Wing par excellence...yet surprisingly respectful of other human beings; a great natural debater and - in my view - the economist type who puts the argument for a small state most compellingly in public debate; executive director of Free Market Foundation. 'Nuff said.)
MODERATOR: One Eusebius McKaiser
TIME: 530pm for 6pm
WHEN?: TODAY!!!!! (Thursday, 29th April)WHERE? Gibs Business School; Meville Road, Illovo, Joburg
RSVP Katie McNally mcnallyk@gibs.co.zaBe there or be square!
FREE entry, and great food and drinks served afterwards while we all schmooz pretentiously...
FULL MOTION: This house believes that the state is right to place state-owned enterprises at the centre of economic growth...
FOR THE MOTION: 1) Jak Koseff (brilliant, and brilliantly flamboyant speaker (no, not gay!) & economic policy geek of late .... a comrade now, sans his Hegel days, working for Joburg City);2) Neva Makgetla (excellent economist: chief economist at Development Bank of Southern Africa; Business Day columnist & a speaker that, uhm, one might describe as brutally honest, or as a TV producer friend said, "curt" ... which bodes well for this parliamentary-style debate)
AGAINST THE MOTION: 1) Joe Roussous (weirdo. translation: into maths, and physics. and stuff. Excellent speaker...surprisingly not boring, despite being trained at the Wits Debate Union...should ruffle Koseff's feathers nicely. Fresh from the World Debate Champs);2) Leon Louw (Right Wing par excellence...yet surprisingly respectful of other human beings; a great natural debater and - in my view - the economist type who puts the argument for a small state most compellingly in public debate; executive director of Free Market Foundation. 'Nuff said.)
MODERATOR: One Eusebius McKaiser
TIME: 530pm for 6pm
WHEN?: TODAY!!!!! (Thursday, 29th April)WHERE? Gibs Business School; Meville Road, Illovo, Joburg
RSVP Katie McNally mcnallyk@gibs.co.zaBe there or be square!
Friday, April 23, 2010
Eskom generates an ethical dilemma
MORAL philosophers indulge in intellectual masturbation when ethical dilemmas are thrown their way. Courtesy of an enthusiastic whistle-blower at Eskom who found a seemingly conscientious MP, Pieter van Dalen, on the opposition benches, a classic ethical dilemma has been put on the table for those of us so inclined . The whistle- blower leaked a confidential document. The MP happily accepted it and after perusing its content put it all in the public domain on grounds of public interest.
Eskom is unhappy. It claims commercial sensitivity required the document to remain confidential. The chair of the parliamentary portfolio committee on public enterprises, Vytjie Mentor, labelled the MP’s behaviour unethical and illegal. An ethical challenge can be clearly stated in a question that might have been yanked from an ethics examination paper. Was the opposition MP ethically justified in his actions? The Democratic Alliance (DA) politician’s action is ultimately justifiable but it is not so obvious why. Let’s rehearse the moral argument in his favour.
Not all of the salient facts are known or agreed on by Eskom, many members of Parliament and the rest of civil society. This makes it difficult to assess whether the MP did the right thing since the utilitarian principle he acted on, which I discuss shortly, is not controversial. It is the principle’s application to the facts that matter. An absence of factual certainty, however, ultimately helps his utilitarian case.
There has been widespread public suspicion for months now that Eskom has been selling electricity to large corporations such as BHP Billiton and Anglo American at unit prices smaller than those of electricity sold to municipalities and ultimately millions of households. Suspicion has been that the major electricity tariff hikes we have been dumped with may well have been smaller but for these contracts containing preferential rates of supply to large companies.
One particularly callous upshot of all this is the possibility that the little people are cross-subsidising the operational expenditure of the big guys. Add to all of this the additional macroeconomic insult that some companies bring iron ore from abroad, smelt it here and then export the intermediary product for further use in value chains elsewhere, and Eskom’s preferential treatment goes from being economically unfair on individual households to being economically disastrous for some of our industry sectors .
However, while this story makes sense in principle, at least one official from the National Energy Regulator of SA (Nersa) made a counterargument in a radio interview several months back. The counterclaim was that while the nominal unit fee charged for electricity to the big guys is lower than that paid by the rest of us, the cost of supplying electricity to big clients is significantly less, so that profit margins generated for Eskom from those customer segments are in fact much higher than profits flowing from the segment comprising us little people. The unspoken implication was that the big guys, if anything, may well be cross-subsiding us. Supply cost structures are not uniform across customer segments.
These are two equally coherent stories. But not both of them can be true. It is a matter of empirical investigation which version is correct. Given the impact of the tariff hikes on inflation and thereby the standard of living of millions of South Africans, finding out which of the stories is true matters. When massive loans like the one granted by the World Bank are added to the mix, with the reality that future generations will be saddled with debt not of their own choosing, the lack of factual certainty becomes ethically significant. We are forced to adjudicate between the Nersa story and the contradictory intuitions of civil society and ordinary South Africans.
That is the context within which the DA MP’s decision was taken. What is an MP to do when he or she is landed with a document that sheds light on the material disagreement about certain facts that are of substantive ethical significance? This is, furthermore, against the background of a cabinet minister who has, according to the MP in question, failed to offer illuminating answers to parliamentary questions on the matter, so “second best” solutions are off the table.
The MP applied an ethical principle that can be roughly stated as follows. If the overall consequences of doing something will have overwhelming benefit for society and no gross injustices are suffered in the process, then that action is ethically justified. This principle, with its built-in consideration about justice, is surely reasonable. Killing someone would be grossly unjust even if it would make most of us happy. The principle is therefore not blind to justice.
However, given that Eskom is a monopoly and that the wellbeing of millions is affected by the price hikes, directly and indirectly, getting to the bottom of whether or not Eskom’s factual claims are accurate matters. No gross economic injustice will result to Eskom, BHP Billiton or Anglo American . Since the document’s public existence takes us a step closer to resolving these factual disputes, the whistle-blower and MP’s actions, even if possibly illegal, are ethically justified.
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=107082
Eskom is unhappy. It claims commercial sensitivity required the document to remain confidential. The chair of the parliamentary portfolio committee on public enterprises, Vytjie Mentor, labelled the MP’s behaviour unethical and illegal. An ethical challenge can be clearly stated in a question that might have been yanked from an ethics examination paper. Was the opposition MP ethically justified in his actions? The Democratic Alliance (DA) politician’s action is ultimately justifiable but it is not so obvious why. Let’s rehearse the moral argument in his favour.
Not all of the salient facts are known or agreed on by Eskom, many members of Parliament and the rest of civil society. This makes it difficult to assess whether the MP did the right thing since the utilitarian principle he acted on, which I discuss shortly, is not controversial. It is the principle’s application to the facts that matter. An absence of factual certainty, however, ultimately helps his utilitarian case.
There has been widespread public suspicion for months now that Eskom has been selling electricity to large corporations such as BHP Billiton and Anglo American at unit prices smaller than those of electricity sold to municipalities and ultimately millions of households. Suspicion has been that the major electricity tariff hikes we have been dumped with may well have been smaller but for these contracts containing preferential rates of supply to large companies.
One particularly callous upshot of all this is the possibility that the little people are cross-subsidising the operational expenditure of the big guys. Add to all of this the additional macroeconomic insult that some companies bring iron ore from abroad, smelt it here and then export the intermediary product for further use in value chains elsewhere, and Eskom’s preferential treatment goes from being economically unfair on individual households to being economically disastrous for some of our industry sectors .
However, while this story makes sense in principle, at least one official from the National Energy Regulator of SA (Nersa) made a counterargument in a radio interview several months back. The counterclaim was that while the nominal unit fee charged for electricity to the big guys is lower than that paid by the rest of us, the cost of supplying electricity to big clients is significantly less, so that profit margins generated for Eskom from those customer segments are in fact much higher than profits flowing from the segment comprising us little people. The unspoken implication was that the big guys, if anything, may well be cross-subsiding us. Supply cost structures are not uniform across customer segments.
These are two equally coherent stories. But not both of them can be true. It is a matter of empirical investigation which version is correct. Given the impact of the tariff hikes on inflation and thereby the standard of living of millions of South Africans, finding out which of the stories is true matters. When massive loans like the one granted by the World Bank are added to the mix, with the reality that future generations will be saddled with debt not of their own choosing, the lack of factual certainty becomes ethically significant. We are forced to adjudicate between the Nersa story and the contradictory intuitions of civil society and ordinary South Africans.
That is the context within which the DA MP’s decision was taken. What is an MP to do when he or she is landed with a document that sheds light on the material disagreement about certain facts that are of substantive ethical significance? This is, furthermore, against the background of a cabinet minister who has, according to the MP in question, failed to offer illuminating answers to parliamentary questions on the matter, so “second best” solutions are off the table.
The MP applied an ethical principle that can be roughly stated as follows. If the overall consequences of doing something will have overwhelming benefit for society and no gross injustices are suffered in the process, then that action is ethically justified. This principle, with its built-in consideration about justice, is surely reasonable. Killing someone would be grossly unjust even if it would make most of us happy. The principle is therefore not blind to justice.
However, given that Eskom is a monopoly and that the wellbeing of millions is affected by the price hikes, directly and indirectly, getting to the bottom of whether or not Eskom’s factual claims are accurate matters. No gross economic injustice will result to Eskom, BHP Billiton or Anglo American . Since the document’s public existence takes us a step closer to resolving these factual disputes, the whistle-blower and MP’s actions, even if possibly illegal, are ethically justified.
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/Content.aspx?id=107082
Monday, April 19, 2010
National debate? More like clash of igorant armies!
Anyone who has been following South African political discourse in recent weeks will be forgiven for thinking that rationality, like elitism, is apparently not for everyone. Rationality and cool-headedness offend many of our politicians. Consequently, the state of political discourse in South Africa is downright embarrassing. This impoverishes our democracy profoundly.
In 1994, we set out to live in a deliberative and a participatory democracy, which meant the embrace of an ideal society in which ideas are coolly exchanged by all of us, and everyone plays by the rules of reasoned debate.
This ideal remains tragically elusive, 16 years into the democratic game. Why? What explains this sad state of affairs? And, without ripping the humanity and emotion out of political discourse (which are not unimportant features), how do we nevertheless improve the quality of our political discourse?
We are asked by all and sundry to "debate this and that" as if an invitation to debate is by itself something terribly virtuous and praiseworthy. But before we can debate any of the substantive issues at the heart of the "national debate", we need to be equipped to structure political argument more rationally, and recognise certain rules of engagement that can help us back onto the path towards a deliberative and participatory democracy.
First, however, we need to get a full grip on the problem. Way too often, politicians engage each other, and us, in irrational exchanges - and behave in ways that are, quite simply, distasteful. The most dramatic recent example, of course, is Julius Malema's display of political childishness when he expelled a BBC journalist from a press conference.
Malema's performance was in the first instance an aesthetic assault on the senses - but if these kinds of antics were merely aesthetically jarring, maybe we would have less reason to get nervous about our body politic; unfortunately, that is not the end of the story. The contents of the arguments (or what pass as arguments) are limp, too.
Take, for example, the response of Lindiwe Sisulu, the minister of defence, to the motion of no confidence tabled in parliament by COPE. Using invective that sounded like it had been penned by Malema, she desisted from engaging with the content of the motion and instead tried to personally attack opposition politicians, belittling them and challenging their right to table a motion of that kind at all.
Choice quotes from Sisulu's display of intolerance and irrationality include: "Why are we even debating such silliness? How do we come to even have it on our order paper? But importantly: how do we as parliament deal with such frivolity in future?"
She proceeded to contemplate a change to parliamentary rules to stop such a motion in future - but could not, unfortunately, find "reference in our rules to how parliament can deal with such a waste of time and resources". Her final insult was saved for COPE's parliamentary leader, Methodist bishop Mvume Dandala, at whom she shouted: "Get out and go and serve the church!"
This is also an example of a distasteful response, of course. But it is more than that. If we ignore the inflammatory passion of the speaker, and assess the content of her response to the motion, it is clear that it is irrational.
First, she is attacking the right of opposition leaders to table such a motion. This shows either a basic lack of understanding about the rules of parliament, or a pernicious attempt to ignore them. One smells the latter motivation, since the minister must know the rules, surely? It is an attempt to dent the credibility of a debate opponent, rather than simply getting on with engaging the basis of their political criticism. It is hardly a sophisticated example of playing the person rather than the ball.
Second, the response shows no attempt to understand the content of an opposing party's argument, or to dismantle it logically, evidentially, and with more acceptable rhetorical skill and flair than being rude and abrasive. Sisulu's performance in parliament on that day was not merely in bad political taste. It was also a master class in irrational and destructive political discourse.
And if you think that the ruling party has a monopoly on this dialogical skills deficit, you are very wrong. Irrationality is found everywhere in our body politic.
Take the Democratic Alliance's Helen Zille in the aftermath of the death of Eugene Terre Blanche. She failed to recognise an opportunity to steal our hearts and minds by showing emotional maturity and imaginative leadership on "the race question". Instead, she went on a tirade about the plight of farmers (as opposed to both farmers and farm workers), warning us, most melodramatically, about "a tidal wave of pent-up rage and frustration". One senior member of one of the mostly Afrikaner civil rights organisations joked with me, in an accurate aside, that Zille's response was less balanced than anything from Afriforum or Solidarity. But this response was hers to make. And perhaps it speaks to her constituency, so we cannot criticise it too harshly.
More importantly, however, is that there is an aspect of this reaction to the murder of Terre Blanche that demonstrated irrationality, too. Zille immediately sought to link the event of Terre Blanche's killing to the singing of a struggle song by Malema, even though the police had barely started their investigation.
Zille's response was not evidence-based. It was mere assertion. And it was an assertion motivated by political opportunism. This is irrational. Only claims that are proportional to the available evidence are worth putting in the public domain - at least if you fancy yourself as someone who respects the rules of logic and reasoned debate.
Why, you might wonder, are we saddled with this shoddy state of political debate? There are at least three reasons.
First, politicians are human. And humans are not logic machines. We are motivated by our most deeply held beliefs, which often colour the way we interpret evidence and influence the manner in which we respond to others.
Second, we do not teach critical thinking and debate in our schools or universities. Only the nerdish among us join a debate club. So our politicians often join parliament never having been taught the hard skills of structured debate and persuasive speaking.
Third, and most importantly, we are still suffering the negative aspects of the legacy of liberation politics. The ANC, as a liberation movement, did not and could not honour the rules of open, deliberative debate as deeply as one hoped it now would as a parliamentary party. Some writers claim otherwise, but this strikes me as exaggeration at best. A few of the leaders of the struggle might have had late-night fireside chats, but in essence the ANC had to operate like an army with an army's top-down approach to decision making. Since the ANC, in turn, dominates our political landscape, we collectively suffer its inability to adapt quickly enough to parliamentary democracy.
One macabre solution is simply to wait for a generational shift to happen; no one lives forever. In the meantime, debate- coaching and critical-thinking classes in parliament might be a good starting point. It will be way more useful than induction processes that simply show members of parliaments the seats in which they will be sleeping for the next five years. We have a massive challenge on our hands.
http://www.timeslive.co.za/local/article408986.ece/National-debate-More-like-the-clash-of-ignorant-armies
In 1994, we set out to live in a deliberative and a participatory democracy, which meant the embrace of an ideal society in which ideas are coolly exchanged by all of us, and everyone plays by the rules of reasoned debate.
This ideal remains tragically elusive, 16 years into the democratic game. Why? What explains this sad state of affairs? And, without ripping the humanity and emotion out of political discourse (which are not unimportant features), how do we nevertheless improve the quality of our political discourse?
We are asked by all and sundry to "debate this and that" as if an invitation to debate is by itself something terribly virtuous and praiseworthy. But before we can debate any of the substantive issues at the heart of the "national debate", we need to be equipped to structure political argument more rationally, and recognise certain rules of engagement that can help us back onto the path towards a deliberative and participatory democracy.
First, however, we need to get a full grip on the problem. Way too often, politicians engage each other, and us, in irrational exchanges - and behave in ways that are, quite simply, distasteful. The most dramatic recent example, of course, is Julius Malema's display of political childishness when he expelled a BBC journalist from a press conference.
Malema's performance was in the first instance an aesthetic assault on the senses - but if these kinds of antics were merely aesthetically jarring, maybe we would have less reason to get nervous about our body politic; unfortunately, that is not the end of the story. The contents of the arguments (or what pass as arguments) are limp, too.
Take, for example, the response of Lindiwe Sisulu, the minister of defence, to the motion of no confidence tabled in parliament by COPE. Using invective that sounded like it had been penned by Malema, she desisted from engaging with the content of the motion and instead tried to personally attack opposition politicians, belittling them and challenging their right to table a motion of that kind at all.
Choice quotes from Sisulu's display of intolerance and irrationality include: "Why are we even debating such silliness? How do we come to even have it on our order paper? But importantly: how do we as parliament deal with such frivolity in future?"
She proceeded to contemplate a change to parliamentary rules to stop such a motion in future - but could not, unfortunately, find "reference in our rules to how parliament can deal with such a waste of time and resources". Her final insult was saved for COPE's parliamentary leader, Methodist bishop Mvume Dandala, at whom she shouted: "Get out and go and serve the church!"
This is also an example of a distasteful response, of course. But it is more than that. If we ignore the inflammatory passion of the speaker, and assess the content of her response to the motion, it is clear that it is irrational.
First, she is attacking the right of opposition leaders to table such a motion. This shows either a basic lack of understanding about the rules of parliament, or a pernicious attempt to ignore them. One smells the latter motivation, since the minister must know the rules, surely? It is an attempt to dent the credibility of a debate opponent, rather than simply getting on with engaging the basis of their political criticism. It is hardly a sophisticated example of playing the person rather than the ball.
Second, the response shows no attempt to understand the content of an opposing party's argument, or to dismantle it logically, evidentially, and with more acceptable rhetorical skill and flair than being rude and abrasive. Sisulu's performance in parliament on that day was not merely in bad political taste. It was also a master class in irrational and destructive political discourse.
And if you think that the ruling party has a monopoly on this dialogical skills deficit, you are very wrong. Irrationality is found everywhere in our body politic.
Take the Democratic Alliance's Helen Zille in the aftermath of the death of Eugene Terre Blanche. She failed to recognise an opportunity to steal our hearts and minds by showing emotional maturity and imaginative leadership on "the race question". Instead, she went on a tirade about the plight of farmers (as opposed to both farmers and farm workers), warning us, most melodramatically, about "a tidal wave of pent-up rage and frustration". One senior member of one of the mostly Afrikaner civil rights organisations joked with me, in an accurate aside, that Zille's response was less balanced than anything from Afriforum or Solidarity. But this response was hers to make. And perhaps it speaks to her constituency, so we cannot criticise it too harshly.
More importantly, however, is that there is an aspect of this reaction to the murder of Terre Blanche that demonstrated irrationality, too. Zille immediately sought to link the event of Terre Blanche's killing to the singing of a struggle song by Malema, even though the police had barely started their investigation.
Zille's response was not evidence-based. It was mere assertion. And it was an assertion motivated by political opportunism. This is irrational. Only claims that are proportional to the available evidence are worth putting in the public domain - at least if you fancy yourself as someone who respects the rules of logic and reasoned debate.
Why, you might wonder, are we saddled with this shoddy state of political debate? There are at least three reasons.
First, politicians are human. And humans are not logic machines. We are motivated by our most deeply held beliefs, which often colour the way we interpret evidence and influence the manner in which we respond to others.
Second, we do not teach critical thinking and debate in our schools or universities. Only the nerdish among us join a debate club. So our politicians often join parliament never having been taught the hard skills of structured debate and persuasive speaking.
Third, and most importantly, we are still suffering the negative aspects of the legacy of liberation politics. The ANC, as a liberation movement, did not and could not honour the rules of open, deliberative debate as deeply as one hoped it now would as a parliamentary party. Some writers claim otherwise, but this strikes me as exaggeration at best. A few of the leaders of the struggle might have had late-night fireside chats, but in essence the ANC had to operate like an army with an army's top-down approach to decision making. Since the ANC, in turn, dominates our political landscape, we collectively suffer its inability to adapt quickly enough to parliamentary democracy.
One macabre solution is simply to wait for a generational shift to happen; no one lives forever. In the meantime, debate- coaching and critical-thinking classes in parliament might be a good starting point. It will be way more useful than induction processes that simply show members of parliaments the seats in which they will be sleeping for the next five years. We have a massive challenge on our hands.
http://www.timeslive.co.za/local/article408986.ece/National-debate-More-like-the-clash-of-ignorant-armies
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