This year’s state of the nation address was a relatively sedate and jolly affair. Ever smiling, President Cyril Ramaphosa walked in with a noticeable spring in his step, safe in the knowledge that his tedious annual ritual was not about to be enlivened by boisterous interruptions. His nemesis wasn’t in the house. Julius Malema, and his band of rowdies, had at last got their comeuppance — banished from the house, and their exile confirmed by the courts.
Ramaphosa took the usual pummelling from MPs, but that was nothing compared to the volley of insults and vitriol that would have been spewed from the red benches. The nation too must have heaved a sigh of relief. It’s got nothing to do with politics or ideology, people hate to see their parliament turned into a circus. Especially when they are at a loss to understand what this manufactured rage is supposed to achieve.
But then that’s how Malema rolls. Chaos is his currency. He creates it; he thrives on it. And without it, he’d be like a fish out of water. He’s been plumbing the depths of demagoguery — and benefiting from it — since he announced his arrival on the political scene by exposing his buttocks at an ANC Youth League conference some years ago. It was, I guess, a pointer on how he intended to conduct his politics — by going down the sewer.
It’s almost as if he’s some bomb-throwing anarchist in the street determined to violently pull down the pillars of power. He’s no such thing. As an MP, he’s got the wherewithal at his disposal to bring about whatever changes he desires by the legislative process. But instead, he’s driven a stake into the heart of our democracy — abusing his position to undermine the system itself.
Maybe parliament can survive this assault, or be fixed at some later stage. But his vandalism could have long-term adverse consequences. Impressionable young minds may grow up believing that politics is not about holding a set of values and principles and convincing others about their relevance and efficacy with reasoned arguments; but that it’s all about hurling insults, venom, intimidation, and even violence, if all else fails.
Malema’s political flip-flops are legendary, and are proof of one thing: his head — or heart — is a value-free zone. He chops and changes to suit his convenience and his supporters, poor souls, like sheep obediently follow, and even applaud, every U-turn. Initially he could kill for Jacob Zuma; then he hounded him in parliament for corruption; then suddenly they were friends again, taking tea together at Zuma’s Nkandla compound, that very symbol of corruption he criticised; now he’s intimating that he and the MK party, Zuma’s tribal enterprise, could work together or even form a government after the elections.
Busisiwe Mkhwebane was a Gupta maid. Now she’s wearing a maid’s uniform as an EFF MP. John Hlophe was found unfit to sit on the bench. Now Malema seems to be courting him to join his gallery of the aggrieved in parliament. Hlophe exchanging his black robes for red overalls would be a sight to behold.
But if you want to see the mayhem that would ensue if Malema were to get hold of the levers of power, look no further than the chaos in local government. He campaigned in the local elections on the basis of keeping the ANC out of power. Now he’s in bed with them, and together they’ve reduced Johannesburg, Ekurhuleni and Durban to a shambles. They’re as chaotic, power-hungry and corrupt as the ruling party.
He encourages people to break the law. Squatters should take over empty land. Foreigners should simply walk into the country without the necessary papers, and so on. He’s a lawless lawmaker, if there’s such a thing.
It’s a mystery why Malema has the type of influence that far outweighs his support. The establishment — the government, criminal justice system, the judiciary, the media — may have something to do with it. They seem cowed by him.
Malema’s political flip-flops are legendary, and are proof of one thing: his head — or heart — is a value-free zone
But why? This man doesn’t have a battalion that could storm the citadels of power. It’s almost as if he has an army of thugs who would come knocking at the door in the dead of night if they were to say or do anything that mildly annoys him. Or is it a question of not wanting to wrestle with a pig in the mud? The ANC are probably worried he could eat into their support, and so they’re prepared to entertain or match his lunacy.
It’s almost six years since the report on VBS Mutual Bank showed how Malema and some of his lieutenants, among others, robbed pensioners of their savings — allegations confirmed by further investigations by journalists — but the comatose NPA has yet to be roused from its slumber.
Malema also seems to have a disproportionate influence on the selection of judges, arguing without evidence — and successfully as it turned out — at a closed-door meeting of the JSC last year that a candidate could not be appointed because he was “subtly racist”, a canard he never put to the candidate and which, as one member pointed out, was irrelevant. Chief justice Raymond Zondo, chairing the meeting, seemed to have kept his counsel.
The media too should look itself in the mirror. It’s happily afforded him the bullhorn. Nobody is saying what he does or says should not be reported. Proportion is what is called for. This man has no power. Nothing. Except the gift of the gab. Nothing he says or does has any impact or bearing on the lives of ordinary people.
And yet he’s covered like he was a head of state. What purpose does it serve to let him prattle on for hours live on television, microphones hanging on his every word? He’s rude, objectionable, overbearing — I guess that’s his appeal. And that may say something about what type of society we are, or intend to be.
We may be witnessing the deification of a bully.
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