Another day, another commission of inquiry. For a man we’ve been led to believe is a consummate strategist, President Cyril Ramaphosa seems to have become something of a one-trick pony. He has the same “solution” for every problem that lands on his desk. One size fits all.
It’s a kind of filibuster, the ruse often employed by US legislators: keep talking to delay or prevent the passing of a piece of legislation.
Instead of showing firm leadership, Ramaphosa is drawing the judiciary into his web of political intrigue. He’s abusing the system. And instead of being arbiters of justice, judges are inexorably drawn into the political arena. Soon they could be viewed as no different from one-eyed political actors. It’s a slippery slope.
These inquiries have become a shield behind which he can hide to avoid taking decisions. He lacks courage, and has become skilled in his own cowardice.
But at times Ramaphosa is his own worst enemy. Too often he provides the stick for his own back. A small thing, but immediately after taking office he pompously declared — as a way of setting himself apart from Jacob Zuma — that everything would take place on time. He’s never kept that promise. On Sunday, for instance, word went out shortly before he was due to address the nation that his speech would be delayed for 30 minutes. Then he rocked up almost 40 minutes late to dish up a mere seven minutes of absolute nothingness. Was that all he kept people waiting for? The speech was devoid of substance or context. For a man who often makes more substantial addresses on mundane issues, it seemed as though he was scared to tackle the subject.
Keeping people waiting really gets their backs up, at a time when he sorely needs the public behind him. It’s an avoidable own goal. But then, he’s been drowning in a sludge of his own promises since taking office.
The only person who appears to have got what he wanted from Sunday’s non-speech was Senzo Mchunu. The beleaguered minister of police had pleaded with the president to put him on special leave in the wake of Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi’s explosive allegations of his collusion with organised crime. Ramaphosa, kind and generous soul that he is, duly obliged. Mchunu has now secured himself a nice paid holiday. He can put his feet up and enjoy the circus, watching the commission as it chases every rabbit hole.
Government flunkeys fanned out across the airwaves this week, arguing that Ramaphosa could not sack Mchunu on untested allegations. They’re missing the point. While Mkhwanazi’s allegations will hopefully come under scrutiny, there’s nothing stopping the president from giving Mchunu the boot. Mchunu’s credibility is in tatters, as is that of so many of his colleagues. The only currency cabinet ministers and the president have is public trust, which Mchunu has lost. They hold their positions by virtue of a vote freely given to them — to the party in this case — by the electorate. That vote is akin to the two parties entering into a solemn agreement or covenant. The candidate gives an undertaking to do right by the people.
Voters do not cast their votes based solely on the policies on offer. They have to trust the people pushing those policies. However suitable or credible the policies, in the main they would count for nothing if the people selling them cannot be trusted. The messenger is the message. Businesses often spend a huge chunk of their budgets on their image and reputation because they know their success depends on how they’re perceived by the public.
The judiciary's ability to carry out its mandate effectively depends largely on it being seen to be independent. Being seen to be at the beck and call of politicians hardly helps its cause
But the ANC is a different kettle of fish. The rot runs deep. Corruption has become such a way of life they don’t even seem to care what the public thinks. But one would have hoped that, given the seriousness of the allegations against Mchunu — especially as they pertain to the security of the country — Ramaphosa would, for once, have stiffened his spine and taken drastic action. A forlorn hope.
No area of government is clean or free of corruption. Everywhere one looks, corrupt comrades are cheerily frolicking like rabbits in the moonlight, without a care in the world. Ramaphosa knows he’s riding a tiger, and he dare not dismount or he’ll end up in its belly. So he resorts to his tried and tested gambit of ruling by commissions of inquiry, without any intention of implementing their findings. They’re like a dummy intended to pacify a restless public.
Perhaps it may be a good idea for chief justice Mandisa Maya to have a quiet word with the president. We’re told she’s about to become the most powerful incumbent since the position was established, so maybe her word will carry some weight. These costly and fruitless commissions aren’t doing the judiciary any favours. It’s getting embroiled in unseemly political mudslinging and, in the absence of firm leadership at the top, judges are called upon to solve what are essentially political problems, or even to settle political scores. They cannot keep doing that without some of the mud sticking to them.
This week, for instance, John Hlophe (who else?) was given an inordinate amount of television time to prattle on about a captured judiciary. He can be dismissed as somebody with an axe to grind, but such fiction often falls on fertile ground — especially in a party whose leader has had continuous run-ins with the law.
The judiciary's ability to carry out its mandate effectively depends largely on it being seen to be independent. Being seen to be at the beck and call of politicians hardly helps its cause. Nor does sitting primly and silently on its perch while accusations about its alleged political collusion fly hither and thither. Sitting ducks are easy prey.
The judiciary cannot be expected to resolve the lack of political leadership. The problem is in our hands. So is the solution.
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