A Fork in the Road Page 50
It was imperative that the criminal white colonial and neocolonial exploitation of black labour had to be redressed as swiftly and efficiently as possible – among other measures, by eradicating the consequences of ‘Bantu education’ – but by handing inordinate power to the trade unions of COSATU, the Congress of South African Trade Unions, one of the key partners, with the Communist Party, in the government’s tripartite alliance, there is a danger of constantly ceding to demands for wage increases without any commensurate increase in productivity, so that South Africa is being priced out of international competitiveness, and risks losing foreign investment. And at the time of writing this the ANC is being faced increasingly with the prospect of being defied by its own Frankenstein monster.
Yet another thorn in the flesh was the trial of Allan Boesak, in which leading members of the government, including key persons in the Ministry of Justice itself, openly supported the accused, making a mockery of judicial procedure. A few years later this was followed by the unedifying spectacle of members of government, including the Speaker of parliament, carrying the convicted criminal, the MP Tony Yengeni, to prison, where he was treated like a guest in a five-star hotel, until he was released well before the expiry of his sentence, when he was welcomed once more like a hero. Clearly, justice in the New South Africa threatens to become subservient to the machinations of power. To see Yengeni subsequently elected to the executive council of the ANC, is further cause for despondency and alarm.
There are also major concerns in other areas of public life. A radical overhaul of the education system has been long overdue. The breakdown of barriers between ‘black education’ and ‘white education’, between the education of the privileged and the underprivileged was a basic necessity. Certainly, the opening up of schools to all races has been one of the keystones of the New South Africa, and one of the measures that in the long run must go further than most others in eradicating old mindsets and introducing a new respect for a shared humanity. But some of the means employed to effect this have been, to say the least, ill-advised. These include the early decision to introduce a uniform ratio between teachers and learners in all schools. But instead of upgrading this ratio to the best available, thousands of teachers from ‘privileged’ schools, including, for obvious reasons, many of the best-qualified teachers in the country, were sacked at staggering expense in order to bring such schools down to the level of those with the worst ratios. The alternative was deemed too expensive, presumably because mismanagement, corruption, unrealistic extremes of affirmative action and the like, have so depleted the state coffers that there is nothing left when it comes to what really matters in the process of transformation. And of course this turns a blind eye to the billions available, in many countries abroad, to fund this kind of transition to a better future. And to the billions already contributed, by Scandinavian countries, the US, Canada and others, for the alleviation of poverty, the upgrading of education, housing and basic services, and which lie, unused, in the safekeeping of departments who seem to lack the will to use this money efficiently. That is, if there is anything left in the coffers after so much of it has been misappropriated or misspent by individuals in the top structures of such departments, to finance end-of-year parties for directors general or commissioners, trips abroad for ministers and their extended families and friends, and domestic expenses for the newly affluent.
After the interminable rule of the apartheid regime, when the Afrikaans language became the de facto language of the oppressor, it was good to see the language cut down to size as one of eleven official languages. But as the new rulers became more safely ensconced, and more arrogant, in their new-found positions of power, an alarming vindictiveness crept into their dealings with Afrikaans. This was highlighted when a cabinet minister revealed publicly that the Afrikaans language was the ultimate price the ANC would exact for their suffering under apartheid. One should now add to this the unseemly haste with which the changes of place names in the country has been approached. I can only applaud the elimination of historical names that were clearly offensive to the sensibilities of some culture, language, or race groups, most especially the black majority. But surely a certain measure of historical perspectivism should be welcomed. And by more or less ‘inventing’ black names for previously white towns, as in the case of Pretoria/Tshwane, simply to get rid of real or imagined connotations of ‘Afrikaansness’ in the old ones, suggests not only hypersensitivity, but cultural paranoia.
Today, there are other signs of derailing wherever one looks. This has become most obvious in moves to diminish the role and importance of parliament in the context of democracy, and replacing it by the party, the ANC. Not only does this set the stage for two centres of power in the future, but – even more importantly – it sidelines parliament as a decision-making body, elevating the party to the most crucial position in an undemocratic hierarchy. At the same time the change removes parliament from its position of overseeing the overall structuring and functioning of the state, a manoeuvre which makes it easier to ignore continuing abuses and generally to use state structures and apparatus for personal gain or to settle personal scores.
There are so many other forms of derailment that it becomes almost tedious to list them. Among the most important is the South African government’s inability to do something decisive about Zimbabwe. Sometimes Thabo Mbeki’s reluctance to take a firm stand, is understandable within the context of his hopeful if ineffectual ‘quiet diplomacy’; more often than not it simply suggests wavering and weakness. And one knows exactly how members of the present government would have reacted if during the apartheid years our neighbour states had acted with the same pusillanimity. There is, also, the lack of decisive action against HIV/Aids, which makes one suspect that the president shares the health minister’s dithering attitude. Among the many other criticisms one can raise is South Africa’s unimpressive performance as a member of the Security Council after its admission to that body in 2007. One of the first opportunities of taking a firm stand in international affairs came when a decision about the inhuman excesses of the military junta in Myanmar had to be taken. South Africa sided with Russia and China in voting against action, even in the mild form of adopting a motion of censure. Anyone who has followed the events in that tragic country, and certainly anyone who has read Karen Connelly’s devastating novel, The Lizard Cage, about the horrors of living there today, cannot but be outraged.
One might also cite the unacceptable manner in which the ANC has acted to undermine, vilify and paralyse the legally elected majority of the Democratic Party in Cape Town; the refusal to act against an ambassador accused and found guilty on several occasions of sexual harassment; the protection of ANC officials who have misbehaved – whether in financial transactions or through sexual abuse – in public positions but are not only blithely allowed to stay on in power, but are even amply rewarded for past or present loyalty to the cause, or whose future loyalty is timeously secured.
The malpractices promoted and/or permitted by the power elite are indeed staggering. The point is no longer the detail, but the basic fact that while in power the ANC has betrayed most of the principles and ideals it promoted before coming to power, and cast a shadow of deep doubt over the leaders who have placed their lives at stake to ensure that the long struggle for liberation led to an honourable victory – great names from Albert Luthuli to Oliver Tambo to Nelson Mandela. The present regime has become a disgrace to the party’s history.
Most of the ills of government in South Africa today can be traced back, directly, to the scandalous arms deal which was imposed on the country in 1999 against the informed advice of the government’s own experts. Ignoring most of the country’s needs for job creation, the alleviation of poverty, addressing the skills shortage, priority was given to an exorbitant military enterprise which the country hardly needed and could certainly not afford – mainly because of the personal gain involved for ANC participants. Few members of government, from the to
p down, remained untainted by the corruption this raft of deals brought in its wake. Skilled and trustworthy minds in the legal and related fields, who were brought in to investigate the contracts and their consequences, were summarily dismissed when they came too close to the smells emanating from the smouldering centre, and lackeys were appointed who were sure not to rock the boat. It is sickening to discover, over and over again, how cabinet members and most of those in the concentric circles of power surrounding them, have been implicated in the deals for personal gain – and the increasing arrogance with which critics are dealt with. The entire process of choosing a successor to Mbeki has been stained by this unedifying spectacle as well – and it promises to get worse. The way in which the likely new president, Jacob Zuma, has been chosen reflects lamentably on all notions of democracy, morality and dignity. Zuma’s supporters – particularly within the ANC Youth League – have shown little or no regard for the most basic forms of decency and respect. Sheer hooliganism has taken over, and democracy has become confused with demagoguery and populism.
Many, many misgivings about the ‘state of the nation’ can be aired, supported by the continuing brain drain, particularly among the youth, that afflicts the country and the lack of really adequate investment from abroad, and above all by the appalling statistics on crime in the country – however slyly these are doctored or however creatively they are interpreted by the Ministry of Safety and Security or the Bureau of Statistics.
In spite of the indignation I have been feeling over many years, I have tried, almost desperately, to give the ANC the benefit of the doubt. I have pointed at Russia and other countries in comparable situations, where liberation has been followed by waves of crime, corruption and inefficiency. And I still believe that in any country that undergoes the kind of massive and radical transformation we have been experiencing, it would be unrealistic not to expect some measure of turbulence of a socio-economic, psychological or cultural kind. But such arguments can become a reflex to bolster a comfort zone. Democracy in South Africa has now been in sway for well over a decade. Which – yes! – is a fleeting second in the history of a nation. And surely, as I have been arguing for a long time, if one stands back to survey the overall scene, and to compare where we are now with where we were less than two decades ago, only a fool can ignore the distance we have already travelled since that unforgettable day in February, 1990 when Nelson Mandela walked free from the Victor Verster prison. But this does not mean that everything can be condoned, or excused. One can get so used to making excuses that it becomes second nature. And of course it is always easier to pretend that the world is a better place than it is, because this may lessen the need for intervention or involvement. After all the years of apartheid, when I tried to remain committed to the urgencies of active opposition, it was almost a luxury to turn to ‘other issues’, to the many stories one had to leave unwritten during that age of darkness because there had always been more urgent tales to tell.
But one does reach a limit: where to remain silent becomes a culpable act. My time of silence is over. For me, the turning point came on a day in late June 2006.
After we’d attended a function at the French ambassador’s résidence to welcome the visiting French rugby team – the then ambassador and I shared a passion for the game – my daughter Sonja and her husband Graham went to a restaurant in a quiet part of Somerset West for a late-night meal. They were ready to leave when five masked men came in and forced the patrons at gunpoint to hand over all their valuables. Anybody who resisted or protested, was manhandled; after the intruders had collected their loot, they moved from table to table assaulting all the women and the more vulnerable-looking men, before they were all herded into a small storeroom in the backyard. There, one of the captives took out his cellphone which he’d hidden in his shoe, and proceeded to call the police. But these guardians of the peace were otherwise occupied. The caller had to dial several more times and wait to be placed on hold every time before the call was passed on from one uninterested officer to another. It took a long time before there was any active response. In the end the police arrived together with employees of a security firm.
Nobody was killed. Nobody was raped. Which means that the incident was treated with such low priority that it received no more attention than a few lines on an inside page of a local newspaper. And why not? They were, as someone remarked, lucky to be alive. And that was what really enraged me. As if being alive should be deemed exceptional, not something that should in any way be regarded as ‘normal’. The incident sank without trace amid the thousands of comparable, and much worse, crimes committed in South Africa every day, every night. Over 19,000 murders and 20,000 attempted murders in the past year. 52,600 rapes. Almost 14,000 hijackings. 127,000 cases of robbery with aggravating circumstances.
There was something worse than just the fact of the violent crime that outraged me, and that is the attitude of the authorities. At about the same time of the attack on the restaurant, the minister of safety and security, Charles Nqakula, launched a scathing attack on ‘whingeing whites’ who habitually complain about violence, and urged them to pack their bags and leave the country. Mr Nqakula, whose safety from criminal attack is presumably assured, perhaps by personal bodyguards provided by a private security agency, seems oblivious of the fact that many more black South Africans than whites are victims of violence in the country, and that calls for help from the black townships habitually go unheeded.
After having protested for a decade against the rising crime wave in the country, this attack was, for me, the last straw. Instead of broaching it, as I had done previously, in personal conversations with people in key positions, this time I turned to the media and aired my anger in newspapers and television programmes in many countries. The reaction of the South African authorities was illuminating. Instead of attacking me, or responding publicly, they appeared to have decided to ‘buy’ my loyalty by offering me awards – the Order of Ikhamanga (Silver) by the president, a Literary Lifetime Achievement Award by the Department of Arts and Culture. What made the latter particularly touching was that it bore the inscription: Awarded posthumously. Which I found at least as amusing as Mark Twain did the premature announcement of his death in the press.
But if the government hoped in this way to draw a curtain of silence over me, it has certainly had the opposite effect. I am firmly resolved not to stop giving them hell. Even from beyond the grave. In the changed circumstances of the New South Africa the ANC is playing exactly the same role as the Nationalist government under apartheid. What their actions over the past decade have in fact demonstrated is that apartheid as such was never the enemy of writers, artists and humanitarians: apartheid was only the mask worn, at a particular time and in a particular place, by the real enemy of whoever espouses the values of Albert Camus: freedom, justice, truth. And now that the ANC has moved into power, its regime sadly must be branded as the enemy of the people.
The crime tsunami is not an isolated phenomenon. Linked to the staggering refusal of the government to get involved in the tragic situation in Zimbabwe and its criminal denial of the full implications of the Aids pandemic it has become implicated in the death of thousands, if not millions.
For a considerable time after the political transition in South Africa I tried to comfort myself, and others in the same situation, with the argument that the many things that were going wrong in the country were just on the surface of a deep, unwavering stream that, down below, continued to run in the right direction. I am now tempted more and more to believe that the perpetrators of injustice in the country are not exceptions any longer. At the moment of writing this, there are judges of the Supreme Court under investigation for racism, for receiving hundreds of thousands of rands in private payments for ‘services rendered’, for drunken driving and malicious damage to property, for refusing to pay maintenance for a child after DNA tests have proved ‘a 99.9 per cent probability that the judge in question is the father’. But unless it
can be proved one hundred per cent, he argues, he cannot be held responsible.
A highly respected ex-judge of the Court of Appeal and the Constitutional Court, Johann Kriegler, who also has impeccable credentials from the Struggle era, was driven to attack the judge president of the Cape, John Hlope, as ‘not a fit and proper person to be a judge. His retention of office constitutes a threat to the dignity and public acceptance of the integrity of the courts … By his greed he has betrayed us.’
It is revealing that black members of the legal fraternity declined to comment, arguing, most significantly, that ‘it would be easier to discuss Hlope’s conduct were he not black.’ The refusal of the Black Lawyers’ Association to join other law groups in the country in condemning the immoral behaviour of Chief Justice Hlope exacerbated the tensions between black and white. In this way the immemorial racial tension in South Africa continues to paralyse open democratic debate.
There is a growing suspicion in the country that the president is resorting to using state institutions to settle personal scores, to smother his critics and protect his allies. An atmosphere of uncertainty and suspicion has replaced the earlier optimism. And signs of malfunctioning proliferate. The country’s chief of police is himself suspected of dealings with organised crime. Cabinet ministers, even the deputy president of the country, have been denounced for going abroad on shopping trips funded by taxpayers. Members of parliament have been found guilty of profiting from travel scams involving public funds. And when found out, especially if they are friends and/or supporters of the president, they are readily let off the hook. This can no longer be a matter of ‘a few bad apples’: such people have become the symptoms of an entire regime that has lost its way. And it is an open question for how much longer it can be expected to attract international investments. Or to organise a Soccer World Cup in 2010.