Shameless politicians are up to their old tricks — putting lipstick on a pig

They don’t kiss babies any more. They’ve turned to abusing the elderly. The pandemic has come to the rescue of snotty tiny tots, saving them from the halitosis of ageing politicians during this feverish election campaign.

But it is sadly the aged — needy, hapless, hopeless — who are bearing the brunt, ready fodder for the false generosity of politicians keen for votes.

An elderly lady grimaces as her emaciated body is squeezed into an ill-fitting party T-shirt, or she is handed the ubiquitous food parcel or even an RDP house, while the supposed do-gooders with their plastic smiles pose behind her for the obligatory photo. They have no shame, these politicians.

They think they should be lauded for playing Father Christmas with our taxes. She may be the recipient of goods, which no doubt will be some relief in her pitiable state; but in fact she’s a hostage; a mere extra in a cynical drama.

The real audience is you, the voter. Look how generous, compassionate we are! Acts of generosity suddenly spring up during election campaigns. The pothole that has been left unattended for years suddenly gets filled; the rubbish dump that has been an eyesore is attended to; and the councillor who’d not been available is suddenly at your door.

If only we could have elections every day. The use of state resources to bribe and hoodwink voters is not only the height of cynicism, but an attempt to cover up and embellish a governing record that is not too pretty. It is — to use that well-worn phrase — putting lipstick on a pig.

A few weeks ago, launching the ANC campaign in Pretoria, President Cyril Ramaphosa took a stab at apologising for the awful mess and corruption his party has wrought on the country. It looked like the campaign would be one long apology tour. But it seems party leaders must have had a rethink because they have turned to outright lying and glorifying their record.

Sometimes the lies seem wholly unnecessary. For instance defence minister Thandi Modise characterised her kidnapping with fellow cabinet members by a ragtag band of thugs in army fatigues as a sign of a maturing democracy. It seems it didn’t take long for her to develop some kind of Stockholm syndrome.

But the ANC has no alternative but to tell barefaced lies. That is its only route to victory. For to tell the truth about their record in government would be tantamount to committing hara-kiri, a self-destructive act. That would be manna from heaven for the opposition.

But some of the lies catch up with them. Like the promise Ramaphosa made to the people of Alexandra,  in an attempt to upstage Herman Mashaba during the last election campaign, that he’d build 1-million houses for them. His minions were trying hard this week to deny that such a promise was ever made. But he’s on tape. He’s been exposed, not for the first time, as someone with an elastic relationship with the truth. The problem for the ANC is that it has a record of misgovernment, a treasure trove for the opposition that it is happily, if not successfully, exploiting.

Ramaphosa and the ANC want you to disbelieve your own eyes, what your ears have been hearing and your own personal experience of its corrupt hegemony. And fools that we are, we’ll give them the blank cheque and they’ll write whatever amount they see fit. Five years later, they’ll be back with another bagful of lies for another cheque. They’ve got us by the short and curlies.

The ANC in its wisdom has decided Ramaphosa will be the face of its local election campaign, its not-so-secret weapon. So he smiles benignly from a pole near you. It is a national campaign where residents — and their local concerns — have become bystanders.

But it is patently ridiculous for the president of the country to be running around like a headless chicken making promises that, with the best will in the world, he clearly cannot keep, for the simple reason that it’s not part of his brief to do so.

He’s not responsible for making sure streets are clean, that potholes are fixed or that sewage doesn’t run down the streets. As the people of Alexandra found out to their disappointment, Ramaphosa was nowhere to be seen when it came to the crunch.

A politician who makes election promises must not only be able to keep them, but must be readily available to account to voters in case he doesn’t. The people who should be out on the campaign trail, visible and therefore available to be held to account — the councillors —  seem to be hiding behind the presidential skirts. Ordinary people want to know who to turn to when things don’t work out, instead of hitting a brick wall all the time. That surely is not too much to ask.

The ANC has not even bothered to release the names of its mayoral candidates. Funny democracy, as Jacob Zuma would say. This week some ANC candidates were made to recite a pledge to clean and competent government. But that's just a gimmick, not worth the paper it’s written on.

The other day everybody, including Ramaphosa, got excited because Zuma had urged his supporters to vote for the ANC.

The fact such a plea by a former party leader could elicit undisguised joy is in fact an indictment.

It points to the depth of the infighting and acrinomy  in the party.

The ANC may still command a huge majority, but it is a rotting hulk at war with itself.

The swagger of yesteryear is gone. That war is the unspoken backdrop to this campaign. And, as the events in July showed, it is a war that could yet put the future of this country in peril.