Opposition politics in South Africa is now in real crisis. Not only has the opposition’s share of the vote been going steadily down election-on-election since 1994, but the minority parties appear determined to weaken themselves further by self-induced fragmentation — a trend sharply accentuated by the apparently irresistible charms of the recent floor-crossing period.
There is a real sense of hari kari about current behaviour — though most of the minority parties are not so much going down in flames as merely going down.
This phenomenon of the splintering of political parties in transitional societies is well documented in political science. The literature suggests that it would, in fact, be surprising if there was not some sort of fragmentation of parties during the period of democratic consolidation. In Latin America and Central and Eastern Europe in the 1980s and 1990s, transitions from military dictatorships and communism prompted a growth industry in minor political parties and, shortly after, a splintering of the larger ones.
I recall visiting the Russian Parliament — the Duma — in 1996 and discovering that in just five years more than 20 parties had emerged, breeding like rabbits. It was chaos. Incoherence was the order of the day — for the political class and, more importantly, for the electorate.
Well, after the false dawn of the 1994 to 1999 period when there were only seven parties represented in the National Assembly, South Africa is now headed that way. In that first Parliament, South African politics was remarkably stable; inter-party negotiation was a hallmark of those days, partly because the opposition itself was relatively cogent and stable, which, in turn, was helpful in building social consensus around the key issues of the transition.
Last year, 12 parties managed to overcome the modest threshold by obtaining at least 0,25% of the popular vote to win representation in Parliament — though nine of the 12 held only 10% of the seats. Now, after the grim reality of the latest floor-crossing period, there are five more parties — a total, therefore, of 16 (the National Party having finally succumbed to historical gravity). Thirteen of those parties have less than 10% of the seats (37 out of 400 between them). Given that the prospects of them operating in anything remotely resembling a coalition is about as likely Robert Mugabe becoming the next head of the United Nations, the effect is that these seats are rendered almost completely irrelevant.
What, therefore, do they contribute in terms of either policy ideas or oversight of the ruling party? What — and who — does each of these tiny parties stand for? I have little or no idea and I suspect the electorate will be none the wiser after the local government elections and, beyond, the 2009 national election, assuming that they have any meaningful anticipation of surviving that long.
Part of the problem is resources, both financial and human. To compete properly and to grow requires the capacity to develop organisationally and strategically to the point where serious electoral competition is realistic. Serious money is needed; South Africa is a big and complex political marketplace. To enter it is one thing; to survive and prosper, quite another. Even parties that recognise that good political campaigning amounts to more than just sticking a million posters to a million lampposts, have struggled because there are so few people in South Africa who actually have the skills. Those who do — in opinion polling, in campaign organisation and strategy, in media relations, in contemporary campaign technology — either work for the African National Congress or, in a few cases, for the Democratic Alliance. The others beg, borrow and steal as best they can.
There is a large element of chicken and egg. To get the votes requires good strategy; good strategy requires expertise; and expertise is in short supply, either monopolised by the ANC or unaffordable.
In fact, all the political parties are short of money at the moment. The upcoming local government election campaign is proving to be a very hard product to sell. The ANC may be the best off overall, with the multiple advantages of incumbency, but it is a big and expensive ship to run. The word in the corporate sector is that recent scandals have driven potential and even some current donors away. Secrecy has not only provided a mask for the malevolent but has now scared legitimate donors away. Not only is regulation based on the principle of transparency urgently required, but a fresh consensus about the need to engage with democratic politics, through open donations, must be built. Creative thinking is needed about how to achieve this.
The floor-crossing has not helped. Corporate donors are now cringing at the prospect of a whole batch of new parties knocking on their doors. Some want to support multiparty democracy. But they are not fools; they will not throw good money after bad.
Among the floor-crossing dross there are individuals of substance — men of integrity and talent such as Malizole Diko and Gavin Woods — who are now all but lost to the political system, though they may choose to delude themselves otherwise. Parliamentary systems do not generally treat individuals well. The system is based on the premise of strong, coherent political parties, and as the current trend indicates, such things — at least on the opposition benches — are likely to be as rare as hens’ teeth.