How I told Zuma he had to go

In the lead-up to the ANC’s conference at Nasrec in December 2017, Cyril Ramaphosa and Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma were the front-runners in the race for ANC president. As the conference drew near, Lindiwe Sisulu, Jeff Radebe and I — who had also thrown our hats into the ring — evaluated the situation. By our calculation, Dlamini-Zuma was leading Ramaphosa. As she had her ex-husband Jacob Zuma’s endorsement, we decided to throw our numbers behind Ramaphosa in the national interest.

Mpumalanga premier David Mabuza at first supported Dlamini-Zuma. As his province had the second-largest number of delegates, it became imperative to get him on Ramaphosa’s side. It came down to the wire. With the conference already under way, Mabuza was eventually persuaded to turn against Dlamini-Zuma in exchange for the deputy presidency.

When the votes were counted, Cyril Ramaphosa was elected president by a narrow margin. Mabuza’s last-minute switch, which ensured his own election as deputy president, was a devastating blow for the Zuma camp. Nevertheless, Dlamini-Zuma’s allies Ace Magashule and Jessie Duarte were elected secretary-general and deputy secretary-general respectively. Gwede Mantashe and Paul Mashatile, who had campaigned on Ramaphosa’s slate, took national chair and treasurer-general. The Top Six was thus now divided between the two camps, evidence of the deep divisions within the party as a whole.

Over the weeks that followed, pressure started building that Zuma should resign as president of the country and Ramaphosa be allowed to assert his elected power.

On Friday February 2 2018, the EFF proposed a motion of no confidence in the Zuma administration. Baleka Mbete, the speaker of parliament, agreed to schedule a debate on the motion three weeks later. In the meantime, the Top Six met with Zuma to try to convince him to resign, but Zuma refused. Mbete postponed the upcoming state of the nation address, which many people took as a sign that Zuma would soon leave office and that his successor would deliver the address.

The country was in a state of uncertainty. On February 6, Zuma, Ramaphosa and secretary-general Ace Magashule met at Genadendal in Cape Town, and Zuma and Ramaphosa met again during that week. Ramaphosa announced that Zuma’s fate would be announced in a matter of days. At the same time, news also emerged that Zuma had agreed to step down, but that he refused to do so immediately.

The Top Six met on Saturday February 10 and a national executive committee meeting was scheduled for Monday to decide on Zuma’s fate. Unlike at the time of Mbeki’s recall, I was not a part of the party’s structures, but I was about to become unexpectedly involved.

On the Sunday night before the NEC meeting, I received a call from one of Zuma’s bodyguards, who told me that the president wanted to speak to me. I hesitated, because we had not spoken for several years. But now, when he was facing the biggest challenge to his leadership, he wanted to talk to me. I was at home with Pinky and told her I didn’t know what to do.

“Speak to him,” she said. “He’s your president.”

A few minutes later, Zuma called, and he spoke as if we’d been talking all the time. He was laughing in that typical Zuma way that I knew so well. We’ve come a long way together. He told me that he was with Magashule and that Ramaphosa was on his way to see him. He and Ramaphosa disagreed on when he should resign, he said. Ramaphosa wanted him to step down immediately, but Zuma had proposed a longer handover of power. It was even more of a problem, he said, because the discussions with Ramaphosa had leaked into the media. He insisted that neither he nor his advisers were the source of the leaks. He asked what I thought he should do.

“Mr President,” I said to him, “I think both of you are the wrong people to discuss that matter. Last time, when it was Thabo Mbeki, it was not you and Thabo talking about this; it was the NEC. You and Cyril have got an interest in the matter. Your interest is to stay; his interest is to replace you. The matter should be referred to the NEC.”

He burst into his usual laughter and said he knew I would say that. He said he would suggest it to Ramaphosa. Then he told me that Ramaphosa was at the door, so we ended the conversation.

The following day, Monday February 12, the NEC met at the Saint George Hotel in Tshwane. As with the meeting that decided on Mbeki’s recall, it was a marathon session, going late into the night. The NEC resolved that Zuma must step down or be recalled. Around midnight, Ramaphosa and Magashule left the meeting and drove to Zuma’s house to convince him to agree to step down immediately and not in several months’ time, as he had proposed. Zuma did not agree to this. Ramaphosa and Magashule returned to the Saint George Hotel, where the NEC decided to recall Zuma.

The next morning, Tuesday February 13, Magashule and Jessie Duarte delivered a formal recall letter to Zuma at his official residence in Pretoria. Magashule announced the recall in a press conference that afternoon.

Don’t fight, don’t create any war with anybody. Tomorrow you must announce that you’re leaving

But still Zuma did not offer to resign, and so the next step was for the ANC to table its own vote of no confidence in parliament.

At about half past eight that evening, I got a call from Zuma’s bodyguard, telling me that the president wanted to talk to me. He wanted me to come to him.

“What do you mean,” I said, “from Bryanston to Mahlamba Ndlopfu?” It was late and I was already in my pyjamas.

The bodyguard insisted that I come to see Zuma.

I felt uneasy, so I phoned Matsobane Mothiba, one of my young business associates, and asked him to accompany me.

I picked him up at the Holiday Inn in Pretoria, and we drove to Zuma’s house. It was dead quiet when we arrived. We walked in and sat down at a table littered with half-litre water bottles.

Then Zuma walked in and told Mothiba to leave. He greeted me as if the years of silence between us had never happened.

He poured it out to me. He told me that he and Ramaphosa had agreed that he could remain president for another three months and then resign. He said they had agreed to a handover of power, where Zuma would introduce Ramaphosa to fellow leaders at the upcoming Brics and Sadc summits, particularly as South Africa was chair of both organisations at that time. It was clear that he felt betrayed.

Then he showed me court papers that had been drawn up by his lawyers to stop the process in parliament to remove him. After perusing the document, I thought that it was flawed on two counts. First, it did not cite all the parliamentary parties that had a right to respond, and, second, it quoted the wrong section of the constitution.

The court papers relied on section 89 of the constitution, which dealt with impeachment. But the upcoming process in parliament involved section 102: a vote of no confidence, which required a simple majority of 50% plus one. In my view, any respectable court would throw out such a flawed application.

“Mr President, your lawyers have not given you the right advice,” I told him. I added that if he thought I was talking rubbish, he should call them, and I would discuss it with them there and then.

He said that wasn’t necessary, because he knew I must be right.

I said that if he thought there was any doubt about my legal view, I would speak to his lawyers at nine the next morning.

Then I said: “But, Mr President, the debate tomorrow in parliament is not about law. It’s about politics. And the issue of you having to go is political, not legal. It may have legal consequences, but it’s political — your colleagues having lost confidence in you.” I asked him how many of his friends had defended him during the day. He admitted that none had.

This showed that they were scared to defend him. Not only was the NEC on board regarding his recall, but parliamentarians would vote in their own political interest on the side of the person who they believed would be the future president of the country. Because a vote of no confidence required just 50% plus one, even if only the ANC voted, Zuma was out. That was the reality he had to deal with.

Then I changed gears. Back in our exile days in Mozambique, Zuma’s children had grown up around me. I knew the family well, and I knew they would be concerned about his safety after he left office. “You need to worry about yourself and your children,” I said. “I think we should approach the matter differently. Let me tell you what I’ve done. I spoke to Denis Sassou Nguesso, president of Congo-Brazzaville, and Alpha Condé of Guinea. I want to talk to Jakaya Kikwete, former president of Tanzania, to ask you to vacate your presidency voluntarily. I thought because you and I knew them, you’d listen to them. Here are their numbers if you want to call them. They’ll tell you, we’ve discussed this. But my view now is: you should leave peacefully.”

Zuma kept saying he felt that Ramaphosa was conflicted in dealing with a matter in which he would be the ultimate beneficiary. He felt betrayed because he believed Ramaphosa had gone back on an agreement that he would stay in office for longer.

I told him: “Don’t fight, don’t create any war with anybody. Tomorrow you must announce that you’re leaving.”

I don’t know where I got the courage from to say all this to his face, and while he was looking at me so intently. I thought this was the moment to call a spade a spade to a leader. Fortunately, he appeared very receptive to what I had to say. He knew I meant well and felt no malice towards him.

We spoke for a long time, and at one o’clock in the morning I realised it was Valentine’s Day. So I cracked a joke and said: "‘Mr President, here we are, talking about politics, but today is Valentine’s Day, you should be at home.” We laughed about it. He said: “Yes, I hear you.”

Zuma was scheduled to hold a press conference at 10 that morning, where he would deliver a statement to the nation. I suggested a few points to add: that he should thank South Africans for entrusting him with the highest office in the land; that he should say that the unity of the ANC is very important to him and that he would do nothing to harm it; and that he should state that he respects the constitution and the people of South Africa.

I advised that he delay the press conference, to give his lawyers and me a chance to debate, in order to give him a balanced legal view. He agreed.

I climbed into bed at around three that morning. At nine o’clock, I phoned Zuma and he told me his lawyers agreed with me. They didn’t even need to speak to me. I now felt I could relax.

Time ticked on. At two in the afternoon, Zuma appeared on SABC and spoke for nearly an hour. He said he didn’t understand the decision to remove him and that he didn’t agree with it. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he said, and no-one discussing his resignation with him had told him he had done anything wrong. They had told him that the problem was that there were two centres of power, but he had proposed a transition period in which he handed over certain responsibilities to Ramaphosa as deputy president before resigning later. He said that he and Ramaphosa had agreed that he stay on until June. When Ramaphosa and Magashule had come to him on Sunday and said that the Top Six disagreed, Zuma said he told them the matter must be discussed by the NEC.

He spoke about how Ramaphosa and Magashule came to him late at night during Monday’s NEC meeting, and the letter of recall that was sent to him the following day. But, he added, the letter said that engagement was still open. In his response to that letter, he said that he was open to further discussion — but now tomorrow in parliament there was going to be a vote of no confidence. He didn’t understand why there was a rush.

Zuma ended by saying: “This is the first time I have a feeling that the leadership is unfair. It’s not even helping me to understand what is it that is so critical. It’s just, you know, you must just go, you must just go. I’ve got a problem with that. The ANC does not run things like that, the ANC that I have been in all the time. And I am not defying. I’m not defying. I have said, no, I don’t agree, I don’t agree with the decision.”

When he had finished, I thought to myself: he hasn’t resigned! What is his agenda? He said he would resign.

Zuma said that he would make another statement later. But because I’d been up so late, I fell asleep early. I had told my friend Ivor Ichikowitz about my conversation with Zuma, and after midnight I woke up and saw a message from Ivor on my phone: “At least he listened to you.”

I was relieved. I had told him straight: Mr President, you need to go. A man I hadn’t spoken to for years!

It was something I had learnt from Mandela: when you speak to a leader, you mustn’t tell them what they want to hear. Tell them what is correct for them to hear.

I thought that maybe I’d made an enemy. I had mixed feelings, but I didn’t regret what I’d said.

There is a sequel to this story. Two weeks later I got a call to come to Durban to see Zuma. I wondered what was going on now.

I called Matsobane Mothiba again and asked him to fly to Durban with me.

Some of Zuma’s friends were there with him, including Magashule and Mosebenzi Zwane. Zuma said he wanted to thank me for being brave. He told the others that he’d had a good discussion with me, and this is what I’d said, and he’d agreed with me; it was the right advice.

Zuma invited us to join them for breakfast. I must confess I was a bit suspicious. So I said to Mothiba: “We must eat what he eats. What he doesn’t eat, we skip.” So we followed him. When he dished himself scrambled eggs, we did the same. We copied his every move. I’m sure I was just being paranoid.

As we were eating at the table, I said to Zuma: “Why did you send Cyril curve balls?”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like free education,” I said. “Where will the money come from? You couldn’t give free education, and you say Cyril must give free education.”

He just laughed, like I was talking air. But it was irresponsible of him to say those things. Give free education, and land — what land? He couldn’t give it for nine years, how could anyone give it now?

We left shortly after that.

It was the second time in a decade that we had recalled the president of the republic before his term ended. It set a precedent that I am afraid will be repeated in future.

• This is an edited extract from 'Witness to Power: A Political Memoir,' by Mathews Phosa, published by Penguin Books South Africa