Bedecked in traditional attire with his cultural accoutrements at his side, Jacob Zuma sat brooding and sullen throughout the coronation of the Zulu king in Durban last week. His genial self had been banished.
Gone, too, was his characteristic toothy grin and giggle. It was as if he’d been dragged to the event against his will. Even the adulation of the crowd did nothing to gee him up. Maybe he didn’t appreciate the sight of Thabo Mbeki, his nemesis, sitting not very far from him.
Zuma has always felt wronged, misunderstood, disrespected and patronised as some country bumpkin who doesn’t belong in the halls of power. It’s the prism through which he’s interpreted his escalating legal woes.
He’s done nothing wrong, as far as he’s concerned. People are just picking on him. But you would have expected Zuma, a fierce traditionalist, to be in his element at such an occasion.
As far as traditional events go, nothing compares with the coronation of a new king. But maybe his legal troubles are beginning to weigh on him more heavily.
Zuma has set off something of a cottage industry of people who profit from perceived political persecution. When wrongdoers get their just deserts they immediately turn it into a grievance, which then becomes a political weapon to defend themselves or even use to seek political office.
Unfortunately, such people are never short of mobs of devoted supporters, who lap up everything their idol has to say. Zuma has set the tone. He’s not only lowered the bar; he’s thrown it away.
No morals, principles or standards seem to apply. As a result, every charlatan these days seems to think they’re ready-made for political office.
Many wrote Zuma’s political obituary when he was dismissed by Mbeki as his deputy. The rape charge that followed immediately thereafter was seen as a nail in his coffin.
But, like a phoenix, he rose from the ashes. After he was fired as deputy president of the country, he had time to travel around South Africa not only pleading his innocence, but portraying himself as a victim of some political persecution by those determined to frustrate him from ascending the highest office in the land.
The message fell on fertile ground. By the time the Polokwane conference came round, it was Mbeki, not Zuma, who was in the dock as far as public opinion was concerned. The grievance gave Zuma wings and he could easily fly to the top job.
The strategy is still very much in vogue, it seems. At the coronation, Zuma simply sat there and said nothing. He didn’t have to. The thunderous applause spoke volumes. On the other hand, his sworn enemy, President Cyril Ramaphosa, who handed the certificate of recognition to King Misuzulu — the main purpose of the event — had to suffer the indignity of being booed. They must have thought he was just a messenger in a suit.
The Zuma template has gathered many devotees, especially among state capture suspects. The individuals seeking to challenge Ramaphosa for party leadership have a scandal or two hanging over their heads.
Ramaphosa himself is under investigation over the theft at his Phala Phala farm. Does anyone, for instance, think that Zweli Mkhize would be challenging for the party presidency had he not been forced out of the cabinet following the Digital Vibes debacle?
Lindiwe Sisulu, another wannabe, is dragging her own caravan of scandals. Nkosazana Dlamini Zuma always seeks to project an image of prudence and innocence.
But she set the corruption trend with the Sarafina controversy, the first scandal to sully the then squeaky-clean record of the new government. She also still has to explain her relationship with the Guptas and some tobacco smugglers.
Politicians implicated in malfeasance like to chant the mantra of “innocent until proven guilty”. That, in fact, should not be the yardstick. Dlamini Zuma, joining those arguing for the repeal of the ANC’s step-aside rule, said the policy was unfair in that it punished individuals who may be found not guilty in court.
But such an argument seeks to serve the interests not of society or voters, but of crooked politicians. And the step-aside policy is mere political chicanery. It doesn’t go far enough. It uses the courts or legal system to monitor the propriety of party members. But it is the court of public opinion that should matter.
Any whiff of scandal, corruption or incompetence should be enough for the implicated individual to fall on their sword. That may seem harsh or idealistic, but being an elected politician is not like being a plumber or a mechanic.
Such a person is in a position to affect whole communities by their decisions. They should therefore have a reputation for honesty and strong morals, and be trusted by the communities they seek to serve. When voters cast their ballots, they entrust the candidate with their lives.
They enter into a covenant with the candidate that their lives are not only safe in the candidate’s hands, but will improve. The candidate earns the voters’ trust by being honest, transparent and principled and by leaving no room for doubt. They should not at all be a closed book.
Ramaphosa has made himself available for re-election at next month’s party conference. But the delegates still don’t know the full story behind the Phala Phala imbroglio. He wants their votes but he won’t tell them. He won’t let them into his confidence.
His lawyers have told him to stay mum, thus taking a legalistic approach — not a sign of someone who seeks the trust of voters. A man who speaks through his lawyer should not be trusted. But they’ll vote for him anyway.
Like the crowd cheering Zuma at the stadium last week, the problem lies with us. We continue to elect jackals and hyenas, and then let them loose in the chicken coop.
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