There is a political tradition followed in some parts of the world which has it that a newly elected political leader should be given 100 days – a “honeymoon” period – in which to find his or her feet in office before being subjected to media and opposition criticism. Thabo Mbeki has already been occupying the seat, if not the ceremonial trappings of power, for more than 500 days and it is therefore without hesitation that we offer our first reaction to his administration a mere nine days after his inauguration: to put it politely, we are less than impressed.
There are two possible explanations on offer for what can only be described as his more bizarre appointments to his first Cabinet. The first is that he completely failed to anticipate Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi’s decision to turn down the deputy president’s post, and that the hasty appointment of Jacob Zuma had a domino effect which wrecked his otherwise carefully-laid plans. But that would suggest incompetence, which is not a charge to which the president has yet exposed himself. Instead we suspect that the appointments reflect a logic which goes some distance towards illustrating his mindset.
The appointment of Nkosazana Zuma to foreign affairs has baffled many commentators. But perhaps her very unsuitability points to an explanation – which we would suggest lies in Mbeki’s determination to conduct foreign affairs himself. His close friendship with Zuma would then be among her prime qualifications; her famously combative nature would be useful in achieving his main diplomatic goal, of shaking Africa by the scruff of the neck, and his adoption of a female “persona” for the purpose a nice, if misleading, gesture towards the gender lobby.
Similarly, Steve Tshwete, widely regarded as a weak, if personable politician, is saddled with safety and security – dealing with crime, the most important short-term challenge to South Africa – suggesting the president does not trust anyone but himself to deal with that one, either.
As for Penuell Maduna, we must confess almost total bafflement at the appointment to the Ministry of Justice of a man who should have been fired from Cabinet a long time ago for championing the cause of that most celebrated of latter-day crooks, Emanuel Shaw II (at least until the Mail & Guardian forced the Liberian to flee the country). We can only hazard that he is counting on Maduna’s undoubted indebtedness to him to hold a whip hand over the ministry which is the main contact point with the judiciary. It is the potentially turbulent judges, obviously, who are in the constitutional position to impose the greatest brake on the exercise of power by the executive.
All of this is obviously complete speculation. But supporters of Mbeki who might protest we are unfair, only have the man himself to blame for this. Such has been the secrecy and the apparent absence of consultation which has characterised the appointment of this Cabinet that nobody, it appears, has been privy to his motivation or justification for it. Judging by the manner in which the president went about informing members of the last Cabinet of their fate – summoning them before him one by one until the early hours of Thursday morning – and his subsequent contemptuous handling of the press, an absence of consultation and transparency is seemingly to be the mark of the Mbeki government
It is, anyway, speculation encouraged by the president’s arrogation to himself of direct authority over the provincial premiers – at least those controlled by the African National Congress (and it is, of course, only by virtue of the narrowest of margins in the Western Cape, and an unexpected lack of vanity on the part of Buthelezi in KwaZulu- Natal that it is not a complete monopoly).
Already we are seeing the fruits of that centralisation. Trouble has started around Winkie Direko, parachuted into the Free State. In Gauteng Mbhazima Shilowa – replacing Mathole Motshekga, ostensibly to iron out factionalism – seems intent on fuelling divisions by his appointment of cronies.
And then we have Mpumalanga where the president’s man, Ndaweni Mahlangu, announced to widespread hilarity this week that there was nothing particularly wrong with politicians telling lies. This in defence of his reappointment of Jacques Modipane as MEC for finance, despite the man’s admission that he had lied by denying his signature to three illegal promissory notes worth R340-million.
“He [Modipane] told lies before the election and the people had a choice. The people have spoken,” said Mahlangu. He borrowed the phrase, of course, from his political patron’s victory speech after this month’s general election.
To the present leadership of the ANC, the phrase may sound like the essence of democracy. To us it is no more than the arrogance of power.