Forget the national dialogue — it's Ramaphosa and Mbeki who should be speaking honestly to each other

South Africans often pride themselves as the archetypical negotiators who can talk their way out of any sticky situation. We’d like to think that’s our brand. After all, didn’t we defy the prophets of doom by peacefully settling our seemingly intractable differences, thus dragging the country away from a simmering civil war? The world cheered approvingly and, for a while, we became its poster child — the epitome of what a peaceful transition looked like. 

So talking is our trade. We’re known for it. We’ve exported it around the globe. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission has come in for some stick lately, but many societies emerging from periods of strife or instability have used it as a benchmark for confronting and resolving their own difficulties. Cyril Ramaphosa, who now seems hardly able to talk himself out of a paper bag, was even roped in to help solve the age-old internecine warfare in Northern Ireland. Soft power. We punched above our weight, we said. 

But that could — and did — lead to delusions of grandeur. We didn't just think we could talk ourselves out of any situation, we believed we could convince others to do the same. We messed up in Africa, in Zimbabwe especially. We thought we could walk in there, bang a few heads together and voila, it’s all kumbaya! It’s also such self-delusion that led Ramaphosa to famously walk into that trap at the White House. Mister Consensus thought he could persuade Donald Trump to change his mind, and didn’t bargain for the cold shower. 

And so, if talking or negotiation is our business or trademark, one would have thought that organising a national dialogue — a discussion among compatriots, not enemies, on issues of mutual concern — would be fairly easy to accomplish. A walk in the park. And also, Ramaphosa, the key driver of this spluttering process, had made a name for himself, and indeed announced himself as one of the country’s potential leaders, by the crucial role he played in the Codesa negotiations. It's the sort of currency that propelled him to power.

But it seems that all that history and knowledge cannot be leveraged to organise a simple get-together where everybody would get a chance to let off steam. Instead, it’s become a dialogue of the deaf. Everybody, it would seem, has a bone to pick, an enemy to skewer, or even ancient hatreds to unleash. Fighting is not nice. It is against the spirit of ubuntu. The foundations, who claim paternity of the dialogue concept, have thrown their toys out of the cot, hoping — one suspects — that the credibility of the process would sink or vanish with their departure. It was already struggling to gain traction anyway. 

But the tiff has a lot to do with the animus between Ramaphosa and Thabo Mbeki — the two big beasts of South African politics. Ramaphosa has often been overshadowed by Mbeki. Even in power, the feeling among close associates was that Ramaphosa needed to assert himself; to act presidential. Somebody now seems to have convinced him that, to appear strong, he needed to needle or pick a fight with Mbeki. The hostility took a nasty turn when government officials, against the wishes of the family, removed Mbeki as one of the speakers at the funeral of Tito Mboweni last year. When settling political scores, it would seem even funerals aren’t out of bounds. It wasn’t a good look. 

But, of course, the rivalry between the two is as old as the ANC has been back from exile. There’s a clip of Ramaphosa being carried shoulder-high around the hall by jubilant supporters after he was elected ANC secretary-general at the July 1991 conference at the University of Durban-Westville. Mbeki, standing against the wall, extends his hand to congratulate him, and Ramaphosa spurns it. Ramaphosa claimed later not to have been aware of it. Given the hubbub at the time, one is inclined to believe him. But for Mbeki that must have stung. Also, he didn’t have a good conference. He had intended to stand for party chair, whereupon Chris Hani threatened to enter the fray. The party leadership, fearing a bloodbath on the conference floor, anointed Walter Sisulu as a compromise. Ramaphosa’s star was on the rise; Mbeki’s looked, at best, to have stalled. A relative newcomer to the movement, Ramaphosa’s ascendancy didn’t sit well, especially with some of those who'd been in exile. The upstart went on to become the organisation’s fulcrum in the negotiations and in the drafting of the new constitution.

Mbeki had initially warmed to Ramaphosa’s presidency, seemingly hoping it would undo the damage done by Jacob Zuma ... But Ramaphosa’s failure to fight corruption and inability to drive the so-called party renewal have seen Mbeki become even more critical of his successor

Ramaphosa’s critics or rivals were further alarmed when Nelson Mandela made it known that he wished Ramaphosa would be his putative successor. But it’s just as well Mandela’s wish was never fulfilled during his lifetime, because he would have been utterly embarrassed at the sheer ineptitude of his protégé — a man who rose to power promising to fight corruption but has instead become a looters’ dream. 

Even after achieving his ambition of becoming president, Mbeki didn’t seem to get over the idea that Ramaphosa was a threat. In April 2001, the late Steve Tshwete, Mbeki’s safety & security minister, announced on national television that Ramaphosa, along with Mathews Phosa and Tokyo Sexwale, was being investigated for allegedly plotting a coup against the president. It was an unfounded allegation, meant to dent the trio’s political ambitions. It didn’t. Instead, Mbeki copped most of the criticism. He was seen as power-drunk, his star waned and the episode ultimately led to his defeat in Polokwane in 2007. 

Mbeki had initially warmed to Ramaphosa’s presidency, seemingly hoping it would undo the damage done by Jacob Zuma, the man he had appointed as his deputy. But Ramaphosa’s failure to fight corruption and inability to drive the so-called party renewal have seen Mbeki become even more critical of his successor. He was also scathing about the ANC’s decision to come to Ramaphosa’s defence over the Phala Phala scandal.

Mbeki may have thought the national dialogue could be a vehicle for the changes he would have loved to see in the party — and in the country. But Ramaphosa, realising that it would be the ANC — and his record — that would come under some harsh criticism, may be trying to control the process in order to minimise its impact. 

It would seem that what is perhaps required is an honest dialogue between the two.