It was the springtime of South African democracy when BAE Systems came a-wooing, and it pressed its suit the only way it knows — by sluicing large sums of cash through the offshore accounts of people close to power.
How handsomely its investments have paid off, now that the early blush has faded! What, after all, is R1-billion in dodgy commissions compared to the sale — for between R20-billion and R30-billion — of the jets now ripping through our blue heavens? And how painful are allegations of impropriety against a former government official like Fana Hlongwane when cushioned by a R14-million retainer?
As for Joe Modise, who blatantly manipulated tender rules to favour BAE and tried to benefit from offset contracts — well, he’s gone wherever old soldiers go, leaving only a tainted legacy.
But that must not be the end of it.
An investigation by the Guardian, and the request for legal assistance by British investigators which we report on this week, make it abundantly clear that BAE’s sophisticated front masks a deep reliance on corrupt practices.
The company’s operatives got stuck into South Africa as early as 1992. And when they realised they needed to get closer to the African National Congress (ANC), they promised millions to the Umkhonto weSizwe Veterans’ Association and engaged members of Modise’s family to lobby for favourable treatment. Sharp questions are now being asked about where that R1-billion in “commission” really ended up. Of course, the company doesn’t think we deserve answers as well as warplanes for our money.
British Prime Minister Tony Blair last month shut down an investigation by Britain’s Serious Fraud Office (SFO) into bribes paid to members of the Saudi royal family while securing BAE’s al-Yamamah deal. Is he now telling the company’s executives not to worry about the SFO’s probe into the company’s South African activities?
Our own government seems to be hoping for such a reprieve, dragging its heels on a request for assistance from British investigators and shuffling the case between agencies.
Fortunately, South Africa lacks the diplomatic and economic leverage that the Saudis can exert on a prime minister preoccupied by war in the Gulf. Surely, he is unlikely to risk fresh outrage by meddling in the SFO investigation. Nor will the German government halt the probe by Düsseldorf prosecutors into bribery allegations against the frigate supplier Thyssen.
At a time when so much is going right in South Africa — thanks to ANC policies — much of what is going wrong, notably the party’s brutal war of succession and the ever-growing nexus between business and politics, has its roots in the arms deal.
Until the serious allegations against the primary contractors and their local agents are thoroughly investigated, and we know where the money went, Jacob Zuma’s supporters will feel they can justly claim he is being unfairly singled out.
A thorough investigation may temporarily destabilise the ANC and the country, but they should be robust enough to withstand some turbulence. The greater worry is that our institutions will be permanently weakened by the distortions forced on them by a cover-up.
We cannot leave it to the British police to shield us against that danger. Our president, Cabinet and prosecuting authorities must take the necessary action.
The Black Hawk flies again
While he is losing power at home, George Bush undertook a show of force in one of Africa’s most troubled places. He bombed several Somali towns along the border with Kenya to take out three alleged al-Qaeda operatives allegedly implicated in the 1998 US embassy bombing in Kenya in which 224 people were killed.
One suspect has allegedly been killed — though there is no evidence of this yet — and between 35 and 70 civilians died in the bombings. In the way of the war on terror, only American lives matter. It’s appalling.
The UN Secretary General, Ban Ki-moon, has decried the loss of life, and both the European Union and the African Union have criticised American action. In response the US has so far said little, justifying its bombing of civilian areas as necessary in the fight against global terrorism. Its single-minded strategy is likely to strengthen Islamic extremists in the long run and undermine any chance of establishing a dialogue between the warring parties.
In 1992, Bush Snr, nearing the end of his first term, sent US troops to Somalia to put an end to the violence that followed the toppling of the US’s Cold War ally Mohammed Siad Barre. US forces withdrew, defeated, two years later, having failed to loosen the warlords’ grip on the country. Somalia, an embarrassment to the US, was all but forgotten for over a decade.
Then, fearing the rise of the Islamic Courts in early 2006, the US provided financial backing to the very same warlords it had once fought. When the warlords didn’t succeed in defeating the Islamic Courts the US helped Ethiopia rout them and paved the way for the weak Transition Federal Government to enter the city.
The real question is what happens now. For the moment the Ethiopians are managing to keep the worst violence at bay — but the warlords are already regaining their hold on the country. Ethiopia’s President, Meles Zenawi, has said that his troops will depart in a matter of weeks, and this will leave a dangerous power vacuum that will most likely be rapidly filled by the warlords.
It would then only be a matter of time before the Islamic Courts regroup and the cycle of violence that has held the country hostage for the past 15 years starts again.