The criminalisation of the state in South Africa: From Mandela to Zuma

In recent times, agencies that were created to protect citizens, fight organized crime, and smash corruption, have come under a dark cloud. Political infighting, factionalism, and dirty tricks at the top levels have become the norm. Instead of setting their sight on criminals and the corrupt, these institutions are caught up in a spiral of internal battles to stifle investigations into high profile cases. 

Yet one of the goals of reforming our security apparatus at the end of apartheid was precisely to depoliticise them, and to enable them to execute their work without fear or favour. Regaining credibility in the eyes of the majority of South Africans was an important goal given the instrumental role of these institutions in advancing the apartheid project. In our idealism at the onset of democracy, little did we realise that the serpent had coiled itself in the Garden of Eden.

The dark cloud facing these institutions suggest that we have done very little to improve their integrity. Currently, three senior police officials, including head of the Hawks Anwa Dramat, head of the special investigative unit Vas Soni, and Mary-Anne Whittles, a programme unit manager who coordinated investigations into Nkandla, are either suspended or have resigned. This cannot be a mere coincidence. These are important institutions that were once thought to represent the best of South Africa’s commitment to creating a safe society and establishing the rule of law. 

These institutions were designed to rid our country of organized crime and corruption. They are now in shambles and devoid of integrity. While institutional chaos did not begin with Zuma’s presidency, it has taken new proportions under him. No doubt, we have had better leaders before, but there was never a golden age in South African politics, except in our own imaginations. We certainly may have had goose bumps induced by the prospect of democratic change, but this should never have been confused with a functional political order with well-developed and independent institutions. 

During the era of Nelson Mandela we had the shielding of Stella Sigcau by the leadership of the ANC, despite her corrupt relationship with the business tycoon Sol Kerzner. General Bantubonke Holomisa, who had pointed out this weed sprouting within the ANC, was instead censured by then deputy president Thabo Mbeki, and later expelled by the unanimous decision of the National Executive Committee on the 30 September 1996. 

The South African Strategic Defense Procurement Package (arms deal), whose stench continues to defile the integrity of our institutions, was launched in the same year as Holomisa’s expulsion. Mbeki was its key pilot. Him and his key allies in government worked hard to emasculate the oversight role of parliament, silence critical voices in parliament, and packed the parliament’s Standing Committee on Public Accounts with sycophants. The arms deal corruption compromised our institutions.

Truth was again sacrificed by Mbeki at the altar of political expediency in the matter concerning Jackie Selebi’s dalliance with criminals such as Glen Agglioti. Here again, Mbeki opted to make the then head of National Prosecuting Agency Vusi Pikoli a sacrificial lamb, while protecting his friend Selebi.

We must admit that the idea of institutions that function independently of political influence, and execute their mandates without fear or favour, has never been internalised by the core of the ANC leadership upon assuming political power in 1994. Loyalty to senior cadres in the movement or key political allies has always taken precedence. This was all in the name of defending the revolution. Society has become worse for it. Those who don’t have the right surnames or the struggle credentials to show for will not be protected. It is for this reason that we should never defend political leaders at all costs, as this is a betrayal of future generations.

Currently we are witnessing a situation where leading figures in key security agencies are caught up in factional battles, mudslinging, backstabbing, and court-battles. Such institutions should be above political fray and beyond partisan associations. It is clear that the current police minister Nkosinathi Nhleko is supremely incompetent. In one dramatic display of his incompetence, Nhleko used a section of the South African Police Services Act that no longer exist to suspend the head of the Hawks Anwa Dramat, who had been investigating influential individuals, possibly linked to the Nkandla security upgrades. That alone should be sufficient reason to sack Nhleko.

This will, unfortunately, not happen since the rot has deepened at the top. The vey institutional chaos that is playing out in the South African Police Service is designed to protect Zuma’s personal interests. It has the collective approval of the ANC leadership and its membership; otherwise he would not have been allowed such a long leash. Zuma is the kind of leader who, given his compromised circumstances, thrives in ambiguity. Appointing weak or compromised individuals to preside over critical institutions of the state is part of his stratagem.

Before Dramat fell out with Nhleko last year, Mxolisi Nxasana, who is the head of the National Prosecuting Authority, had his own standoff with President Zuma. Again, this was around the handling of criminal cases that involved influential individuals, as well as Nxasana’s fall out with those close to Zuma within the NPA. 

Just like Dramat had to turn to the courts to overturn his suspension, Nxasana interdicted Zuma from suspending him. Nxasana is currently facing a review of his fitness to hold power, by someone who is anything but fit to be the president of the republic. There is no doubt that disillusionment, demoralization, and a state of paralysis engulf these institutions, while organized crime and corruption continue to multiply. 

What is now apparent is that Zuma runs the state as if it were a criminal enterprise, with his party nodding in approval. If this is the case, he is certainly a security threat. It cannot be possible to guarantee long-term social stability under the circumstances where security agencies are disintegrating under the weight of poor and dubious leadership. Not only that, the economic and social structure is creaking uncomfortably.

In the late 1990s, the political scientists Jean-Francois Bayart and Stephen Ellis wrote a book titled The Criminalisation of the State in Africa. In this work, they traced various ways in which powerful factions within nationalist movements after independence would undermine democratic processes, capture the state, and instrumentalise it for personal gain. 

Personal rule, supported by loose, informal, and shadowy cliques, is the dominant political culture in such states. This is what is currently taking shape in South Africa. The state maintains a façade of modernity, while at the core it is captured by informalised networks and cliques, where corruption and criminality exist hand in glove with key state figures. Zuma has spawned a hedge of riff-raff and loyalists around him to secure his personal interests. Unlike the factions of old, under Zuma they do not need to trace their roots in the ANC. The word faction has now taken on a whole new meaning that is less ideological but venal and criminal. 

Qobo is a political economist

The Battle for the Carcass of the African National Congress

The Battle for the Carcass of the African National Congress

Political Patronage and Dysfunctionality of the State - South Africa

As long as the public service is characterised by a model where Ministers are supreme, and the Directors-General subordinate, South Africa will never have a functional government that can tackle the complex social and economic challenges that it faces today. It is possible to have a different model, the basic outlines of which are tentatively sketched out in the National Planning Commission’s newly unveiled National Development Plan: Vision for 2030.

The National Planning Commission expresses concern over the manner in which the relationship between Ministers and their Directors-General is structured, especially since ambiguities in roles undermine the proper functioning of public service. This also erodes its potential as an instrument for managing social and economic change. The National Planning Commission makes some excellent observations regarding the defects of public service leadership from municipalities to national government. It is just that its recommendations are not strong enough to ensure meaningful change in how the system runs.

Usually, when new Ministers are appointed, they feel a sense of entitlement to appoint their own Directors-General. These are oftentimes cronies who would be docile and worship their Ministers rather than professionally serve the public. Ministers revolt at the notion of inheriting a Director-General or having one imposed on them.

If Ministers were to make a choice between inheriting a proficient Director General and appointing an incompetent one, they would choose the latter. Insecurities and a deep urge to exercise control are the driving impulse in many of the tensions between Ministers and Directors-General. The last thing a Minister wants is to live in the shadows of a highly competent Director General.

What makes this situation anomalous is that Directors-General are presumably appointed on the basis of their technical and policy competence, whereas Ministers occupy their positions purely at the discretion of the President irrespective of competence. They are here today, gone tomorrow. Despite their technical and policy superiority, Directors-General are constrained by a system that elevates the status of Ministers and rewards political affiliation and mediocrity.

This model is clearly lopsided, and it bleeds the taxpayer. When Ministers don’t like a Director-General, they would simply pay out the remainder of the contract. Perversely, this incentivises the Directors-General to drag out their differences with Ministers so that they can then receive the guaranteed golden handshake, gratis.

In trying to resolve this tension, the National Planning Commission proposes that Directors-General should have two reporting lines. The first would assume the form of administrative reporting to a senior public servant – some kind of a super Director-General; and the second, on policy matters, would require the Director General to report to the Minister. This is a right step, albeit, in a wrong direction. It is not clear why the National Planning Commission decided to go for such a complicated route.

Framed in this way, it makes it impossible for Directors-General to get anything done. Role confusions and misunderstandings are likely to abound, with Directors-General spending most of their time doing reporting rather than getting on with the job of managing government departments and improving public service efficiencies.

The National Planning Commission should have instead structured its proposed model around making the public service more efficient and effective by giving more authority to the Directors-General. They have a superior policy and technical judgement than the Ministers. A model where Directors-General are superior or equivalent in authority to the Ministers characterised much of Japan’s bureaucracy at the height of its developmental state trajectory. The Japanese bureaucrats had massive influence over policy formulation, were respected by the Diet (Parliament), and executed policy with confidence and great precision.

It is no secret that in South Africa, Ministers occupy their position not so much on the basis of their leadership capabilities or policy acumen, but largely on the back of factional support and presidential patronage. Without such a patronage, most Ministers would be unemployable in the labour market.

At best they would seamlessly blend with the pool of workers that are part of government’s Expanded Public Works Programme, or become beneficiaries of the welfare system. Thus It does not make sense that a Director-General who does most of the heavy policy and intellectual lifting should report to a Minister who bolted out of nowhere, and with no leadership or managerial credibility other than a party membership.

Yet the National Planning Commission fudges it. It has instead chosen to re-affirm the superiority of Ministers above that of Directors-General. The role of the Ministers in government departments should be that of supporting their Directors-General politically, and ensuring that the party political vision and electoral priorities are intact.

Further, they should interface directly with the public explaining how their departments are performing in delivering on commitments made during elections. This is different to saying that the Directors-General should report to Ministers on policy issues, as the National Planning Commission recommends.

It is often forgotten that the Latin root meaning for minister, simply stated, is servant or attendant. In South Africa it has prima donna celebrity connotations. Disconcertingly, this elevation of political affiliation over technical competence is increasingly exported to South Africa’s diplomatic missions abroad.

There is a fast growing trend in the Department of International Relations and Cooperation where diplomatic missions abroad are being transformed into a massive patronage network and a cushion for failed politicians from Mayors to Cabinet Ministers. Just over 70 percent of South Africa’s diplomatic missions abroad are headed by politicians, and just under 30 percent by properly trained career diplomats.

It is not difficult to discern what is at play here: this system is intended to reward political loyalty, and to create an income stream for cronies who would otherwise be jobless. It thus enables them to enjoy a sumptuous lifestyle, with chauffeur-driven cars, and access to massive allowances abroad.  Wittingly or unwittingly this creates a two-tier welfare system – an elite one for failed politicians and cronies; and a miserly one for the underclasses. Both are sustained by the tax payer.

The disproportionate representation of politicians in diplomatic service communicates a powerful message that competent civil servants and career diplomats are not valued and have little contribution to make in executing South Africa’s foreign policy abroad. This will not only undermine South Africa’s place in the world, but runs the risk of deepening dysfunctionality in the public service.

If the ruling party is serious about building the capabilities of the state, delivering services efficiently, and enhancing the value of the country’s diplomatic missions abroad, it will need to overhaul the existing template. The first step should be an immediate phasing out of the political deployment culture and practice, as the National Planning Commission recommends. The roles of the Minister and that of the Directors-General should be equal in status, with a super Director-General to whom other DGs report. This will certainly require a change of perspective about public service leadership and about the urgency of fixing South Africa.

Dr Mzukisi Qobo is senior lecturer in the Department of Political Sciences, University of Pretoria; and a member of the Midrand Group. This post appeared on the Sunday Independent Opions and Analysis Section, 27 November 2011.

Weakening Pillars of the New South Africa

The Decaying Pillars of Post-Apartheid South Africa

The imbroglio over the Dalai Lama’s visa application has added another blemish on South Africa’s foreign policy, underscoring the heavy price the country is paying for its relationship with China. What we have witnessed in the past week are signs of regressive evolution of South Africa’s foreign policy, the loss of its independence, and of the crumbling pillars of the country’s commitment to progressive values under Jacob Zuma’s presidency.

Three years ago, before President Zuma ascended to power, it was unthinkable that South Africa’s foreign policy would ever be dictated upon by another country or that government would easily sell the country’s soul in exchange for maintaining a commercial relationship with a country that suffers democratic deficiencies and with lower human rights standards such as China.

When South Africa assiduously lobbied and begged to be allowed into the BRIC club that includes Brazil, Russia, India and China, this was a sign that South Africa’s foreign policy was entering a prolonged crisis of confidence. Opportunistically, China took up South Africa’s cause and ensured the latter’s acceptance into this elite club of economically influential emerging economies. It is partly this debt that South Africa is repaying today with its values.

As we now know, on the same week that Dalai Lama cancelled his trip to South Africa, the leadership of the African National Congress was on a pilgrimage to Beijing to genuflect before the Chinese Communist Party and take some lessons. South Africa’s political elite and bureaucrats have excessive fear of China, bordering on the irrational, and regard themselves as minions in the sight of the mighty Chinese.  

Other developing countries such as Brazil who possess a more confident and independent foreign policy have firmly stood up to China where they hold a differing perspective on a foreign policy or trade issue. In the past year, Brazil confronted China for manipulating its currency as a strategy the latter uses to artificially bolster its exports of manufactured goods to the detriment of other middle-income countries’ export sectors. More recently, Brazil has taken a hard-line stance in its trade relations and slapped import tariffs on China’s steel in order to protect its own domestic steel sector and create more jobs.

Unlike the South African government, Brazil understands its strategic interests and chooses to protect its industries and workers over maintaining a relationship with China at all costs. An obsequious foreign policy towards China will not necessarily help South Africa to power its economy and create more jobs.

More menacing, such a relationship could serve to corrode the values upon which the new South Africa is founded. In a sense, the ugly developments around the Dalai Lama offer us a mirror to assess our foreign policy and the strength of our values as a nation. The Dalai Lama, who is the Tibetan spiritual leader, poses no threat to South Africa.

Since the time he fled to exile in India along with some 80 000 Tibetans in March 1959, the Dalai Lama has been a voice of reason and vocal in criticising China for its repression and human rights failings. His persistent efforts earned him the Nobel Peace Prize in 1989. In 2007, the US government granted him the Highest Civilian Order to recognise his positive contribution to humanity.

South Africa had no reason to fear China over the Dalai Lama visa issue since, in any case, it is China that has a deep yearning for credibility and has the burden to prove to the rest of the world that there is nothing to be feared in its so-called peaceful rise. China has a weak soft-power in the form of attractive values and ideas that others can easily embrace, and may struggle to build this if it continues to assert its interests through intimidation.

If indeed China is holding South Africa by the strings, as it seems to be the case, this surely casts a terrifying spectre of foreign occupation whose influence - spoken or unspoken - is more decisive than the weight of opinion of South Africans; and has a stronger force than the moral foundations of the South African society as expressed in its liberal Constitution.

This kind of behaviour can achieve just the opposite: it reveals an image of a country that is deeply insecure and ready to use its sharp claws – its financial might - to intimidate those who don’t conform to its political wishes. It is China’s image that has been sternly tested and came out badly disfigured in the visa debacle. China will have to be careful not to overplay its hand on South Africa’s foreign policy as this could risk provoking anti-Chinese sentiments.

China should also be aware that the current crop of ANC elites running South Africa today may not be here tomorrow, as most of them are aging and nearing the end of their political careers. For China to cultivate a more benign image it would need to comport itself in non-threatening ways and be more sensitive to other countries’ values, especially commitment to freedom, even if it does not share such values. These are issues China will have to deal with internally, as it navigates its ‘peaceful rise’. It is shameful, however, for the South African government to sell the country’s values on the cheap.

What this recent Dalai Lama saga has also revealed is that Jacob Zuma’s presidency is undermining South Africa’s dignity and debasing its intellectual and moral standing on the global stage. The conduct of our foreign policy no longer inspires a sense of pride, but only elicits squirms and crossing of fingers that another blunder may be lurking on the horizon.

Other African countries that might be looking up to South Africa for leadership must surely be dismayed by South Africa’s kow-towing to China. Under successive presidencies of Nelson Mandela and Thabo Mbeki, South Africa commanded respect for the independence of its foreign policy, the clarity and boldness of its ideas, and for its strong values framework. It acted like a real African giant. This is now threadbare.

The regressive shift in South Africa’s foreign policy and the corruption of the country’s core values sounds the note of a prelude to a dirge. This brings to mind Edmund Burke’s reflection on the monstrous progeny of the French Revolution in his Letters on a Regicide Peace: “out of the tomb of the murdered monarchy in France has arisen a vast, tremendous, unformed spectre, in a far more terrific guise than any which ever yet have overpowered the imagination, and subdued the fortitude of man. Going straight forward to its end, unappaled by peril, unchecked by remorse, despising all common maxims and all common means, that hideous phantom overpowered those who could not believe it was possible she could at all exist.’

Yet, still, the biggest danger may not be that the ruling party is no longer unchecked by remorse, has lost all human capacity to be ashamed, and is impervious to public opinion. But that we may find ourselves sinking into deeper levels of despair and indifference as coping mechanisms, and thus fail to take action.

The ill-treatment of the Dalai Lama is consistent with other dangerous signs on the wall that are screaming for our attention that a different South Africa we can no longer recognise may already be under construction in the shape of what Burke referred to as an ‘…unformed spectre, in a far more terrific guise’.

Dr Mzukisi Qobo is senior lecturer in the Department of Political Sciences at the University of Pretoria. He is a public speaker and political risk analyst; and a member of the Midrand Group.

The dangers of leadership dwarfism

http://www.iol.co.za/anc-leadership-bar-set-too-low-1.1148763

Warren Bennis, the celebrated leadership thinker, begins his book, On Becoming a Leader, by recalling the cover story of the Time magazine edition of November 1987, which posed the question: “Who is in charge”? Answering its own question, it went on to proclaim: “The nation calls for leadership, and there is no one at home”.

How true this is of South Africa today. One reason South Africa is deprived of credible political leadership is that the very process of selecting political leadership is not designed to reward excellence.

Leadership succession is determined through the dictatorship of the party over society. It is for this reason that the wall of mystery surrounding leadership succession within the ANC should be assailed to allow for a more open discussion on South Africa’s leadership options and the possible directions the country should take beyond Jacob Zuma’s presidency.

There are two other important reasons why a publicly driven succession debate is important.

The first is that the character of political leadership has a powerful impact on the nature of the country’s institutions and the quality of its future – politically, morally and economically. There is little doubt that for the foreseeable future the ANC will continue to dominate the South African political landscape and act as a party that produces presidents for the nation – however flawed these may be. The consequences of morally and intellectually defective leadership could be extremely damaging and difficult to reverse.

Shaping the public discourse on the ANC’s leadership debate, therefore, becomes crucial. The imperfect and indeterminate process of leadership selection in the ANC is nowhere as evident as the manner in which Zuma came to power. He did not become the party and the country’s president because he was the most gifted, ethically grounded, and the most competent.

It may well have been for the opposite reasons. There was nothing in him that inspired confidence. Rather, it was through a series of adventures, misadventures and politically manipulated means that he was able to ascend to the highest office in the land.

Zuma became president simply because his faction had its way. His slate was more popular to those who either falsely saw in him an image of a messiah, or an avenue through which they could access power and plunder state resources. Zuma’s rise to power was very much facilitated by a deadly cocktail of political manoeuvring and illegality, including the use of illegally obtained spy tapes to get him off the hook and to pave the way for his rise to the Union Buildings.

He came to power with no credibility to stand on. As such, the office of the president lacked decorum.

It is, therefore, not inconceivable that under different circumstances Jacob Zuma could be mingling with criminals behind bars. What is most troubling, though, is less about Zuma’s politico-ethical character, but more the very process by which the ANC selects its president who then has the seamless passage to become the president of the country.

Given what we know now and have as the country’s president in the person of Zuma, it is possible that the ANC selection process could churn out a leader who makes wrong judgements that could very well compromise the vital institutions of the state. It is not difficult to imagine the emergence, through this faulty mechanism, of a president who attracts wrong characters around him, who is driven by instincts of self-preservation to the detriment of the country’s future, and who can quite easily become a serious national security threat. This is especially so as the ANC’s leadership bench is growing thinner, and the edifice of its values manifesting deep cracks.

The virtues, political finesse, and statesmanship that were expressed in the colossi that were incarnate in Chief Albert Luthuli, Oliver Tambo, and Nelson Mandela are worlds apart from the decadence that became visible post-Mandela and towards the ANC’s Polokwane National Conference in 2007. What we witness today is a painful spectacle akin to a contest between dwarfs who stumble to climb on each other’s shoulders with the hope that the successful among them will attain the stature of a giant.

Having achieved the feat, so does one dwarf announce from the shoulder of another that a new standard has been set on becoming a giant, and that others have to emulate his example. There is, without a doubt, a massive difference between today’s and yesterday’s leadership in the ANC and the country.

The second reason why this debate is too important to be left to the ANC factions is the fact that the glue between the party and the state is hardening, and with worrying implications for the stability of the country and the core institutions that underpin it. There is, according to the ANC’s logic, one centre of power – Luthuli House – and government’s policy processes, civil servants and institutions are subordinated to this warped logic. It is the same logic that would have us believe that the wisdom of independent institutions such as the judiciary is inferior to that of the party with all its disparate factions and chaos.

Given this unsettling, if not unseemly, fusion between the party and the state, and with the elevation of the party above society, the massive leadership failings within the ANC could very well accentuate dysfunctionality in the state. Recently, ANC secretary-general Gwede Mantashe painted a bleak picture of a party bursting at the seams, infested with factional battles, that has become a hive of corruption, and is populated with ill-disciplined cadres. Welcome to the new vanguard of South Africa.

Mantashe’s assessment of an imploding ANC was followed by a similarly bald revelation by Gwen Mahlangu-Nkabinde, minister of public works, who lamented that “we have allowed thieves and thugs to run the country”. She may have been trying to pass the buck under the pressure of the public protector, but her observations should be taken as a reflection of a particle of reality that could be worse than what she has revealed.

The question she, and the collective leadership of the ANC, should be asked to answer is who exactly has opened the door to thieves and thugs, and where do they get the licence to loot? And what if their role models are the very figures that are piloting the party and the state?

At the heart of this growing disintegration lie massive failures of leadership and, in particular, Zuma’s lack of grasp of key challenges in his own party and in the state. There are numerous tell-tale signs of this dysfunctionality. Apart from Mantashe’s candid assessment and Mahlangu-Nkabinde’s alarming remarks, institutions that should be insulated from politics, such as the judiciary, prosecutorial agencies and intelligence services, are casualties of this poverty of leadership and political meddling. The fall-out between the ruling political elite and civil society over the information bill has produced some spirited, but foolish, attacks by the ANC Chief Whip Mathole Matshekga on the Constitutional Court.

What of the shambolic handling of the tensions between the senior intelligence officials and their political head? If the intelligence services are not able to conduct their affairs discretely, how much worse is the situation in other government departments and agencies? The chaos in the intelligence community is one of the dangerous consequences of an incestuous relationship between the party and the state in a pluralistic democracy like South Africa. The unsavoury events in the intelligence services are a fragment of what could be a much wider disintegration of state institutions under Zuma’s watch.

We ignore the centrality of leadership at our peril. History is replete with examples of leaders who either inspire a sense of self-belief in their nations or throttle their hopes; who inspire greatness in their people or bring them shame; and who nurture trust and integrity in the country’s institutions, or self-servingly erode them. The leadership bar in South Africa has been lowered drastically.

There seems to be no one at home worthy of the title of leader, if the ANC selection processes are anything to go by.

Readjusting the bar upwards may require that we intensify our scrutiny of the sitting president, and influence the leadership succession debates in the ANC even before they begin in earnest, as it will be too late then.

Wondering endlessly over how we got to be where we are may not help us to cure the country’s leadership ills, the creeping dwarfism, and the growing dysfunctionality characterising state institutions.

Dr Qobo is a Political Risk Analyst, Public Speaker, and Senior Lecturer in the Department of Political Sciences at the University of Pretoria. He is also a member of the Midrand Group.