WHAT is our common national South African identity? President Jacob Zuma reportedly wants us to debate this question and also to consider the essence of “the South African moral code”. He is worried that despite the constitution’s yearning for us to be united in diversity we are simply continuing to see things differently.
These questions are worth engaging because many of us ponder who and what we are as a nation around dinner tables but less so in the public space. This is a first bite at the president’s cherry.
The search for a common national South African identity is silly. It is conceptually dodgy. It is also practically dangerous. As for linking morality with national identity, that is a connection that is badly conceived. How, you might wonder, did I arrive at these pessimistic convictions?
The starting point is the very diversity that the president refers to. Diversity is a fact of our constitutional life. The constitution is a document that imagines a society in which there are many different life forms. It cherishes diversity, but not because diversity is pretty for its own sake like a bunch of different flowers quaintly arranged in a vase. More importantly, diversity is cherished on the basis that it is important to give individuals space to live as they see fit, short of them trampling on others’ right to the same entitlement.
This is where the conceptual headaches for nationalists come in. You cannot, on the one hand, cherish the freedom of individuals to decide their own identities and on the other hand tell them there is a list of things one must value or do in order to be more or less South African. Diversity’s value is in part derived from the premise that identities should be self-chosen.
A national identity presupposes there is an objective, singular identity that constitutes the South African identity. Promoting diversity then implies undermining the promotion of a national identity. This conceptual migraine cannot be escaped.
Practically, what does a common South African national identity refer to? Do I have to like rugby? Soccer? Cricket? Must I have a braai at least once a month? Koeksisters on Sunday? Obsess about race, perhaps? Cry while watching reruns of the 1995 Rugby World Cup and the following day threaten to leave for Sydney in a fit of seemingly typical South African mania?
The problem is obvious. If you throw too many goodies into your list of things that make us South African, then you will exclude many people. Or, rather bizarrely, it means that all of us will come out being part-time South Africans since only some stuff will apply to each of us and even then only some of the time. On the other hand, if you define the list of things rather broadly, perhaps claiming that South Africans are generous or friendly or sports-loving, the rest of the world will rightly tell us to go jump off the nearest cliff for having the audacity to claim that we have a monopoly on these feel-good values.
What is the implication of this?
When our constitution speaks of “unity in diversity” it is mercifully not to be understood as demanding that we fake unity. It should be interpreted to mean “unity” captures our willingness to respect the guy next door’s right to be who he wants to be. It is not an agreement to sing from the same hymn sheet so much as consensus that all should be allowed to decide whether and what they would like to sing.
Given our history, we should we be grateful that by and large we have gravitated towards that kind of consensus. I might not agree with your assessment of the bull’s entitlement not to be killed, but I recognise the importance of giving you the space to take part in a cultural event that might involve such killing in appropriate circumstances.
A common national South African identity is therefore clearly not possible. It is therefore also dangerous that we keep trying so awfully hard to find it. It is dangerous because as a society that loves moving between extremes of loving and hating itself, the search for something that does not exist is a good recipe for the next bout of national depression.
Indeed, many of us, especially media- ordained elders of the nation, self-flagellate for having abandoned Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu’s rainbow nation identity. Yet, what we should be realising now is that the early democratic motif of rainbow nation unity was a bogus notion. It was a placebo we swallowed that helped to make the transition to democracy and settling into that democracy less painful than it might otherwise have been. Now it is time to grow up and realise that nationalism is overrated and at any rate not necessary.
What is the alternative?
Recognising that there is a much smaller set of overlapping values, which we all should respect. And they have nothing to do with a national identity as such. We need to respect the cultural rights that all are entitled to, for example. We need to respect everyone’s right to speak their mind on important issues as opposed to, say, kicking them out of Parliament. In short, we should interpret the constitution as envisioning a society that is progressive in the sense that it opens up maximum space for individuals and smaller communities within its borders to live authentically chosen lives. The idea of a grand national narrative and a grand national identity is a jingoistic ideal that is, by contrast, conceptually weak, practically dangerous and increasingly dated the world over.
As for the president’s attempt to build a bridge from morality to national identity, by asking us to define “the South African moral code”, that too is a mistaken journey to embark on. Views about morality are simply too numerous and often incompatible to find expression in a code of morality unless that code is so vague and so broad in its language as to be practically useless as a guide for what we should do in this or that situation.
We are a diverse secular state that allows Christians, Jews, Muslims, atheists, agnostics and others to be who they want to be. Whatever morals underpin the constitution derive from those few principles that all rational beings must accept as necessary for society to be a stable entity. Any morals or principles that are more comprehensive, like a Christian view on marriage or a Buddhist view on prayer, will smack of unreasonably promoting one substantive moral outlook over another. We should rather stick to promoting and respecting the rights in the constitution that allow for different moralities to be possible within the private spheres of individual and community lives.
So, to answer the president bluntly, we must recognise that a common national identity is neither possible nor desirable. Many countries wrongly imagine otherwise, including diverse societies such as England and the US. We can set a global example by fearlessly defining a common national identity, if we really must, as the rejection of oneness and the embrace of diversity.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Ruling has implications for Shaik and De Kock
THE Constitutional Court decided to be agnostic on two legal and political hot potatoes — and these two hot potatoes are called Schabir Shaik and Eugene de Kock.
Instead of pre-emptively discussing its findings in a possible future case about whether or not the president should ask De Kock’s victims what they think about the possibility of his release, the court restricted itself to the very specific group of prisoners that was the object of the case before it. Yet, if we rehearse the decision and rationale behind it, important legal and ethical implications for how the president handles other pardons seem to follow.
The case before it is, of course, of critical legal and sociopolitical significance in its own right. In terms of “unfinished business” related to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s (TRC’s) attempt to engender reconciliation across the nation, the president had decided to consider pardoning certain prisoners whose deeds fell within the political scope of TRC work.
The basic thinking is that doing so would help to take care of “unfinished” business by presumably strengthening reconciliation. The problem, however, is that this is being done by fiat. The input of the victims and their families was not deemed necessary. The Constitutional Court disagreed.
In essence, the court decided that there must be a rational connection between the aim of granting these special pardons and the process by which it is decided who among the applicants should be pardoned.
In relation to the victims and their families, the legal question then becomes whether this principle of legality would still be respected in the absence of consulting the victims. But it is obvious that if the aim of the pardons is to promote reconciliation, then the demand of the victims to be heard is one that bears a rational connection with the aim of reconciliation.
After all, reconciliation by definition involves two parties and can only be achieved if they are on the same psychological wavelength about their previously broken relationship now having been restored. So we have yet another spot-on confirmation by the Constitutional Court.
Now the real fun starts, however. The wider question is whether this reasoning applies to other applicants for pardoning. And, of course, the big elephants in the room are Shaik and De Kock.
Since the application was for a special category of prisoners in relation to a unique politico-historical process, the Constitutional Court strategically bypassed the need to opine on the constitutional question beyond its focus. But let us reject the court’s agnosticism and speculate.
First, it seems that at the very least this decision develops the one asserted less bluntly in the Hugo case — that the principle of legality demands that the president makes rational decisions when he exercises prerogative powers. This matters.
Actually, it helps both the president and the rest of us. We get at least a formal guarantee that undue influence is minimised by the requirement of rationality. The president, in turn, gets to have an excuse not to behave unethically by being able to say to an old friend, “Mate, I’d love to pardon you for taking care of the car-wash ticket, but I don’t have a fake set of reasons to give my peeps. Can I give your brother a job instead?”
This sort of guideline does not override the freedom of the president to offer pardons, but it does rightly constrain that power by the light of fundamental principles such as that of legality.
Second, however legally accurate, the court is being convenient in pointing to the unique historical nature of the case before it. How can it not see the obvious similarity with a case like that of De Kock?
De Kock has a whole bunch of victims and their families who have experienced identical grief and loss to that suffered by the victims of the prisoners whose case is before the court. Indeed, the grief is not just of the same kind and the same intensity, it also stems from the same historical context, at least in De Kock’s case. For this reason, I would predict that a reasonable argument can be made in future for why the decision of this week’s case, and much of the rationale for it, should apply identically to a case about the right of victims to be heard on the possible De Kock pardon.
Last, even if a legal argument cannot be sustained for excavating the analysis from this week’s judgment and throwing it at the De Kock matter, the ethical and political pressure to listen to the public’s input has been strengthened.
If we take the constitutional principles at the heart of our democracy seriously, then we need constant dialogue between the state and citizens about decisions that will affect the health of intergroup relations.
The conclusion is therefore irresistible. Even if Jacob Zuma should survive a legal challenge to also hear the victims of De Kock about that potential pardon, he cannot survive the moral and political entitlement that victims have to express their view. If he is astute, furthermore, he would ask them voluntarily to express a view and take the responses genuinely seriously rather than treating it as just an exercise in procedural democracy. I will not hold my breath.
Instead of pre-emptively discussing its findings in a possible future case about whether or not the president should ask De Kock’s victims what they think about the possibility of his release, the court restricted itself to the very specific group of prisoners that was the object of the case before it. Yet, if we rehearse the decision and rationale behind it, important legal and ethical implications for how the president handles other pardons seem to follow.
The case before it is, of course, of critical legal and sociopolitical significance in its own right. In terms of “unfinished business” related to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s (TRC’s) attempt to engender reconciliation across the nation, the president had decided to consider pardoning certain prisoners whose deeds fell within the political scope of TRC work.
The basic thinking is that doing so would help to take care of “unfinished” business by presumably strengthening reconciliation. The problem, however, is that this is being done by fiat. The input of the victims and their families was not deemed necessary. The Constitutional Court disagreed.
In essence, the court decided that there must be a rational connection between the aim of granting these special pardons and the process by which it is decided who among the applicants should be pardoned.
In relation to the victims and their families, the legal question then becomes whether this principle of legality would still be respected in the absence of consulting the victims. But it is obvious that if the aim of the pardons is to promote reconciliation, then the demand of the victims to be heard is one that bears a rational connection with the aim of reconciliation.
After all, reconciliation by definition involves two parties and can only be achieved if they are on the same psychological wavelength about their previously broken relationship now having been restored. So we have yet another spot-on confirmation by the Constitutional Court.
Now the real fun starts, however. The wider question is whether this reasoning applies to other applicants for pardoning. And, of course, the big elephants in the room are Shaik and De Kock.
Since the application was for a special category of prisoners in relation to a unique politico-historical process, the Constitutional Court strategically bypassed the need to opine on the constitutional question beyond its focus. But let us reject the court’s agnosticism and speculate.
First, it seems that at the very least this decision develops the one asserted less bluntly in the Hugo case — that the principle of legality demands that the president makes rational decisions when he exercises prerogative powers. This matters.
Actually, it helps both the president and the rest of us. We get at least a formal guarantee that undue influence is minimised by the requirement of rationality. The president, in turn, gets to have an excuse not to behave unethically by being able to say to an old friend, “Mate, I’d love to pardon you for taking care of the car-wash ticket, but I don’t have a fake set of reasons to give my peeps. Can I give your brother a job instead?”
This sort of guideline does not override the freedom of the president to offer pardons, but it does rightly constrain that power by the light of fundamental principles such as that of legality.
Second, however legally accurate, the court is being convenient in pointing to the unique historical nature of the case before it. How can it not see the obvious similarity with a case like that of De Kock?
De Kock has a whole bunch of victims and their families who have experienced identical grief and loss to that suffered by the victims of the prisoners whose case is before the court. Indeed, the grief is not just of the same kind and the same intensity, it also stems from the same historical context, at least in De Kock’s case. For this reason, I would predict that a reasonable argument can be made in future for why the decision of this week’s case, and much of the rationale for it, should apply identically to a case about the right of victims to be heard on the possible De Kock pardon.
Last, even if a legal argument cannot be sustained for excavating the analysis from this week’s judgment and throwing it at the De Kock matter, the ethical and political pressure to listen to the public’s input has been strengthened.
If we take the constitutional principles at the heart of our democracy seriously, then we need constant dialogue between the state and citizens about decisions that will affect the health of intergroup relations.
The conclusion is therefore irresistible. Even if Jacob Zuma should survive a legal challenge to also hear the victims of De Kock about that potential pardon, he cannot survive the moral and political entitlement that victims have to express their view. If he is astute, furthermore, he would ask them voluntarily to express a view and take the responses genuinely seriously rather than treating it as just an exercise in procedural democracy. I will not hold my breath.
Friday, February 19, 2010
An effective cadre but a useless deputy speaker
THE Deputy Speaker of Parliament Nomaindia Mfeketo is not fit for purpose. She does not know the formal rules that govern parliamentary debate. Nor does she understand the point of these rules. Given that it is her job description to be an expert on these crucial determinants of an effective Parliament, quite frankly she should either get something of a skills-upgrade or be “redeployed” in the interests of democracy. Her shocking handling of rather pedestrian criticism levelled against President Jacob Zuma by Congress of the People (COPE) MP Mluleki George is the basis of my own criticism against her.
Here are the essential facts in case you missed the incident . So, George had the audacity of saying in Parliament during the debate on Zuma’s state of the nation speech that he felt that our national leader was leading us down a path of lawlessness. Mfeketo’s response was to ask George to withdraw the statement. He refused and was ordered to leave the chamber. The rest of the COPE bunch left with him, followed by Democratic Alliance (DA) MPs.
Mfeketo justified her decision on the basis that George’s comment was offensive and did not show adequate respect for the office of the president. She claimed that this was in line with rule 66 of the National Assembly rules, which prohibit the competency of some office bearers to be reflected upon.
What utter rubbish, and on so many different levels. First, Mfeketo does not know the very rules she is meant to be enforcing. Rule 66 explicitly refers to the judiciary. It is designed to ensure the integrity of judges remain intact by not allowing political bullies to undermine separation of powers with spurious attacks on the judges.
Indeed, where such judges are deemed to be incompetent, their removal should properly be sought through carefully designed procedures such as the introduction of a substantive motion to that effect.
Furthermore, r ule 66 explicitly allows the government to have its competency reflected upon. One hardly needs to read the fine print to know beforehand that it must be a lie to imagine that MPs cannot express views on government leaders’ competency. If they cannot do so, then the very point of parliamentary oversight is thrown out the window.
Other rules were ignored also. Rule 69(1), for example, entitles a member to explain themselves when they think that “a material part of (their) speech had been misquoted or misunderstood”. The intolerance shown by Mfeketo in respect of George’s request to explain himself smacked of disregard for this entitlement.
Rule 72, furthermore, compels Mfeketo to listen and consider a point of order before responding to it. She violated this rule by not allowing a DA member to express himself when he stood up to offer a point of order.
Clearly Mfeketo has no appetite for complying with the rule book. This is dramatically ironic, given that she was pretending, albeit on the basis of a rule that does not exist, to censure an MP for not following parliamentary rules. Her very own behaviour was a clearer case in point.
Second, and more importantly, it is ridiculous to claim that the content of the statement that was made by George was “offensive” or an affront to the Presidency in his person or to his office in general. It was not. If I was George, I would be rather annoyed that I should make the headlines for such an unremarkable statement. I would prefer 15 minutes of fame for saying something that is way sexier.
This underscores the pettiness and perniciousness of Mfeketo’s ruling. If it is deemed “offensive” to dare to criticise the president as leading us down a path of “lawlessness”, then what kind of criticism against the president would be acceptable to her? Would it be okay to say he is a poor speaker, or is that “offensive” too? Should we stick to criticising his dance moves (other than, of course, being “offensive” by claiming that he fell when he recently danced at his latest wedding)? Mfeketo is setting the bar for robust debate at a meaninglessly low level.
Third, Mfeketo clearly does not understand the justification behind Parliament’s rules. These rules are designed to maximise government accountability. This is why we have related rules such as the one governing parliamentary privilege. So not only was George’s comment within the bounds of free speech provisions that would hold outside Parliament, it also fell within the further and wider ring of protection specially afforded to MPs for good reason.
The last thing we want is a society in which criticising the president lands you in trouble. Thoughtless censuring of criticism will get us there and will indeed lead us down a path to lawlessness. Thanks, Nomaindia Mfeketo, for your contribution in undermining the role of Parliament. You are a useful cadre but a useless deputy speaker. Our teenage democracy deserves better.
Here are the essential facts in case you missed the incident . So, George had the audacity of saying in Parliament during the debate on Zuma’s state of the nation speech that he felt that our national leader was leading us down a path of lawlessness. Mfeketo’s response was to ask George to withdraw the statement. He refused and was ordered to leave the chamber. The rest of the COPE bunch left with him, followed by Democratic Alliance (DA) MPs.
Mfeketo justified her decision on the basis that George’s comment was offensive and did not show adequate respect for the office of the president. She claimed that this was in line with rule 66 of the National Assembly rules, which prohibit the competency of some office bearers to be reflected upon.
What utter rubbish, and on so many different levels. First, Mfeketo does not know the very rules she is meant to be enforcing. Rule 66 explicitly refers to the judiciary. It is designed to ensure the integrity of judges remain intact by not allowing political bullies to undermine separation of powers with spurious attacks on the judges.
Indeed, where such judges are deemed to be incompetent, their removal should properly be sought through carefully designed procedures such as the introduction of a substantive motion to that effect.
Furthermore, r ule 66 explicitly allows the government to have its competency reflected upon. One hardly needs to read the fine print to know beforehand that it must be a lie to imagine that MPs cannot express views on government leaders’ competency. If they cannot do so, then the very point of parliamentary oversight is thrown out the window.
Other rules were ignored also. Rule 69(1), for example, entitles a member to explain themselves when they think that “a material part of (their) speech had been misquoted or misunderstood”. The intolerance shown by Mfeketo in respect of George’s request to explain himself smacked of disregard for this entitlement.
Rule 72, furthermore, compels Mfeketo to listen and consider a point of order before responding to it. She violated this rule by not allowing a DA member to express himself when he stood up to offer a point of order.
Clearly Mfeketo has no appetite for complying with the rule book. This is dramatically ironic, given that she was pretending, albeit on the basis of a rule that does not exist, to censure an MP for not following parliamentary rules. Her very own behaviour was a clearer case in point.
Second, and more importantly, it is ridiculous to claim that the content of the statement that was made by George was “offensive” or an affront to the Presidency in his person or to his office in general. It was not. If I was George, I would be rather annoyed that I should make the headlines for such an unremarkable statement. I would prefer 15 minutes of fame for saying something that is way sexier.
This underscores the pettiness and perniciousness of Mfeketo’s ruling. If it is deemed “offensive” to dare to criticise the president as leading us down a path of “lawlessness”, then what kind of criticism against the president would be acceptable to her? Would it be okay to say he is a poor speaker, or is that “offensive” too? Should we stick to criticising his dance moves (other than, of course, being “offensive” by claiming that he fell when he recently danced at his latest wedding)? Mfeketo is setting the bar for robust debate at a meaninglessly low level.
Third, Mfeketo clearly does not understand the justification behind Parliament’s rules. These rules are designed to maximise government accountability. This is why we have related rules such as the one governing parliamentary privilege. So not only was George’s comment within the bounds of free speech provisions that would hold outside Parliament, it also fell within the further and wider ring of protection specially afforded to MPs for good reason.
The last thing we want is a society in which criticising the president lands you in trouble. Thoughtless censuring of criticism will get us there and will indeed lead us down a path to lawlessness. Thanks, Nomaindia Mfeketo, for your contribution in undermining the role of Parliament. You are a useful cadre but a useless deputy speaker. Our teenage democracy deserves better.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Gordhan fills some of JZ's political potholes
One had to feel sorry for Minister Pravin Gordhan after President Jacob Zuma’s performance last Thursday. Given that the state of the nation speech was a double disaster, having been both lacklustre rhetorically and short on detail, it was naturally going to be up to the Minister of Finance to fill some of the political potholes left by the speech.
One pseudo-justification for the president’s focus on broad thematic brushstrokes rather than granular policy detail is the promise that detail would follow in the weeks ahead. The budget speech is the first major speech since. This raises the obvious question of whether the budget speech adequately spelt out the kind of detail that was sorely lacking in the president’s speech? Do we now have less reason to worry about whether there are comprehensive plans and numbers behind government’s policy focus areas?
On balance the speech met most expectations. Perhaps its greatest virtue was a sensible balance between numbers and principled themes spanning the entire speech. For example, the emphasis on a moral contract with taxpayers to underscore the tax collectors’ commitment to deal with tax evaders spoke to a character who is as much concerned with questions of fairness and justice as he is with cold numbers. Or, to take a different example, the emphasis on social capital at the beginning, and the realisation that “our most precious national asset” is social capital, oozed conviction. It is amazing that by contrast, when the president attempted to throw sound bites our way, few were prepared to swallow it. But Minister Gordhan spoke with a sincerity and authority that convinced.
This matters because the determinant of whether or not we reach the developmental goals the state has set itself is not just how much money we throw at the problems. Success is in no small part also going to be a function of the collective energy and national self-confidence we have as a workforce and as a nation. It is therefore with some relief that the tone from both the media and, crucially, opposition political parties changed drastically over the past twenty four hours. A whiff of a spirit of co-operation was in the air. That is a good thing.
These successes are not just because Minister Gordhan is a private individual with no publically known moral stains to distract us from solely focusing on the content of his work. It is also because the minister showed incredible political astuteness. On the one hand, he appeased labour by sharing its analysis that a labour absorbing growth strategy is crucial while on the other agreeing with business that “doubling the size of the economy within a generation” is a critical outcome to aim at. This gives all stakeholders a sense of having been heard.
On the numbers and policy side, the rhetorical stuff was matched with equal brilliance. It is comforting to know that by and large taxes will not have to be increased as a trade off for spending to remain the same or for spending to increase in some areas. We are still reaping the rewards of the historic budget surplus of recent years. The current budget project a deficit of 7,3% going forward. This compares favourably with other economies including ones within the global north. More worryingly, perhaps, is that a hidden cost of our decision to not cut spending nor raise taxes is that public debt will creep up to around 40% of GDP by 2013. This is undesirable for the obvious reason that when the global economy is truly on the up again it will be the economies with smaller amounts of public debt to settle who will see the tangible benefits of economic growth most palpably. Furthermore, revenues unlocked through economic growth cannot be put to optimal social use when a high debt burden requires servicing. We would do well therefore to not get overly excited about having the space to go into debt - for now.
Still, in the short-term at least, most South Africans can look forward to continuing to live withing a caring state but one whose fundamentals remain friendly to investors. Of course, operational efficiencies within the state, and effective strategic partnerships with the private sector, will determine whether or not these by-and-large decent plans actually translate into the governing party's lofty ideal of a 'better life for all.'
One pseudo-justification for the president’s focus on broad thematic brushstrokes rather than granular policy detail is the promise that detail would follow in the weeks ahead. The budget speech is the first major speech since. This raises the obvious question of whether the budget speech adequately spelt out the kind of detail that was sorely lacking in the president’s speech? Do we now have less reason to worry about whether there are comprehensive plans and numbers behind government’s policy focus areas?
On balance the speech met most expectations. Perhaps its greatest virtue was a sensible balance between numbers and principled themes spanning the entire speech. For example, the emphasis on a moral contract with taxpayers to underscore the tax collectors’ commitment to deal with tax evaders spoke to a character who is as much concerned with questions of fairness and justice as he is with cold numbers. Or, to take a different example, the emphasis on social capital at the beginning, and the realisation that “our most precious national asset” is social capital, oozed conviction. It is amazing that by contrast, when the president attempted to throw sound bites our way, few were prepared to swallow it. But Minister Gordhan spoke with a sincerity and authority that convinced.
This matters because the determinant of whether or not we reach the developmental goals the state has set itself is not just how much money we throw at the problems. Success is in no small part also going to be a function of the collective energy and national self-confidence we have as a workforce and as a nation. It is therefore with some relief that the tone from both the media and, crucially, opposition political parties changed drastically over the past twenty four hours. A whiff of a spirit of co-operation was in the air. That is a good thing.
These successes are not just because Minister Gordhan is a private individual with no publically known moral stains to distract us from solely focusing on the content of his work. It is also because the minister showed incredible political astuteness. On the one hand, he appeased labour by sharing its analysis that a labour absorbing growth strategy is crucial while on the other agreeing with business that “doubling the size of the economy within a generation” is a critical outcome to aim at. This gives all stakeholders a sense of having been heard.
On the numbers and policy side, the rhetorical stuff was matched with equal brilliance. It is comforting to know that by and large taxes will not have to be increased as a trade off for spending to remain the same or for spending to increase in some areas. We are still reaping the rewards of the historic budget surplus of recent years. The current budget project a deficit of 7,3% going forward. This compares favourably with other economies including ones within the global north. More worryingly, perhaps, is that a hidden cost of our decision to not cut spending nor raise taxes is that public debt will creep up to around 40% of GDP by 2013. This is undesirable for the obvious reason that when the global economy is truly on the up again it will be the economies with smaller amounts of public debt to settle who will see the tangible benefits of economic growth most palpably. Furthermore, revenues unlocked through economic growth cannot be put to optimal social use when a high debt burden requires servicing. We would do well therefore to not get overly excited about having the space to go into debt - for now.
Still, in the short-term at least, most South Africans can look forward to continuing to live withing a caring state but one whose fundamentals remain friendly to investors. Of course, operational efficiencies within the state, and effective strategic partnerships with the private sector, will determine whether or not these by-and-large decent plans actually translate into the governing party's lofty ideal of a 'better life for all.'
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Once again COPE misreads political landscape
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
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
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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