The political tale of South Africa is one of noble leadership. It is a story scripted by powerful and humane beings from the times of Langalibalele Dube, Tshekiso Plaatjie, Pixley ka Isaka Seme and Mvumbi Luthuli. They are part of a long list of men and women from different political persuasions who crafted the story and lived their lives in a way that did not clash with the script.
Njabulo Ndebele has described these remarkable individuals as people who were not only honoured for their positions but also for the way they enhanced the dignity and stature of those positions. They achieved this by striving to create a complementary relationship between official and personal attributes.
After years of political exile, this nation emerged in 1994 with one thing in mind: transformation. Taking the baton from his predecessors, Rolihlahla Mandela led us along the stormy path of transforming an archaic and repressive legal framework and writing a new Constitution. Thabo Mbeki focused his energies on new legislation and policies, and on reviving the African sense of self, based on a cultural revolution driven by a vibrant economy.
Thirteen years later our story is one of triumph and despair. In spite of achievements outlined in endless government reports written in a language and format that most cannot access, read or understand, the state of the nation is one in which a handful of economic and political captains sail on a sea of appalling poverty, disease, death and environmental destruction.
Thirteen years into democracy, government reports a booming economy alongside rampant fraud, corruption and violent crime. Fathers rape their daughters in the name of African tradition, grandsons abuse their grandmothers for pension money, husbands kill their wives and wives hire assassins to kill their husbands, burglars kill with vicious impunity.
Having returned from political exile, the nation is faced with an act of inner exile referred to by Wole Soyinka as ”internal severance”. Society’s moral fibre is in shreds; our respect for life is dead and buried in a heap of self-destruction. As a country we cringe at the mention of the word morality, yet we fail to cultivate civility and honesty, even as we make a lot of noise about crime.
In spite of knowing that education is a field on which we grow human beings, we fail to equip families and schools with the financial and cultural back-up they need to produce humane people. Instead our education system is largely geared towards servicing the capitalist economy at the expense of cultivating a healthy sense of identity. How can we expect to harvest corn and wheat when we have planted tobacco?
Indeed, it took a mere 13 years for our democracy to be overshadowed by an intense contest over who should lead, as opposed to which direction the country should be taking after three terms of office steered by two democratically elected African presidents. The succession race is reduced to personality cults focused on two or three men cast in a race for position, while the nation is cast in a race to free its knowledge from cultural and spiritual demise in a world dominated by colonial thinking and practice.
It is time we ask questions that we have not asked ourselves before. What does the making of a leader in post-apartheid South Africa entail? Does a gallant freedom fighter make a great leader or statesman? What role does African culture play in the conception of democracy and leadership? How can we promote the will not to do crime in the midst of empty stomachs, ignorant minds and diseased souls? Do morality and spirituality have any role to play in political leadership, or should this question be limited to debates on who will succeed Archbishop Ndungane?
Like morality, spirituality has over the years been confined to the narrow practice of organised religion. Of course, religion can embrace both the moral and the immoral. A politician whose beliefs are grounded in religion can lead to life as much as he can lead people to destruction. I have encountered self-proclaimed non-believers whose morality matches the immorality of certain religious leaders. As Ndebele points out: ”The sacred can be abused for ends that have very little to do with sanctity.”
Much as we prefer to separate the personal and the political, much as we would like to believe that what happens in a leader’s personal life should be of no interest to the public, the reality is that a leader of questionable personal character uses the same head space to make public and private decisions.
Nothing operates in a vacuum. Psychological, moral and spiritual factors have a role to play in the political and economic decisions we make. A spiritually awake politician will know that transformation is about more than putting people in positions of power. It includes changing the mindsets of those persons and those with whom they interact.
Many of government’s policies are crafted by people whose views, beliefs and philosophies are rooted in a foreign culture, irrespective of whether those who craft the policies are black or white. As far as our education is concerned, when Europeans get an education, they become more rooted in their culture. When Africans get educated, they become indifferent to their culture.
Practising spiritual politics requires a degree of moral courage. Talking about moral courage in a capitalist society may seem like a pipe dream. After all, everyone wants to succeed, and at this point success is measured exclusively in monetary terms. Because a capitalist society tends to reward those who cooperate with it and punish those who resist or oppose it, this makes it difficult for most people to lead a moral life, let alone to exercise moral leadership.
In the end the question is not so much who is fit to govern but whether we are on the right track. The choices we make in the here and now need to be inextricably linked to the bigger project of rewriting the story of Africa. After all, what happens in Polokwane in December will reach far beyond Limpopo — and far beyond 2009.
Delegates should choose a leader who will not only create jobs but also commit to growing human skills that can help build a new psychological space — and these are not limited to intellect and technology. This takes time, patience and determination. It is not about instant wealth, fame or power. Choosing this path will prove difficult for any leader, because after decades of being robbed by their oppressors and fellow comrades the majority of people prefer instant outcomes.
One hopes the ANC can move beyond the well-rehearsed rhetoric of creating a better life for all. Such words will remain hollow until we all seek the courage to take a public stand against all forms of economic injustice, especially those from which we benefit.
As people move into their respective ”camps” in preparation for the much-awaited time of reckoning, it is hoped they will ask themselves this question: How does being part of this camp contribute to building a humane, healthy, self-respecting and prosperous nation? What material and non-material legacy am I leaving for my children’s children?
As we move towards the political crossroad, Ben Okri also asks: What will we choose?
Will we allow ourselves to descend
Into universal chaos and darkness?
A world without hope, without wholeness …
A world breeding mass murderers
Energy vampires, serial killers
With minds spinning in anomie and amorality
With murder, rape, genocide as normality?
Or will we allow ourselves merely to drift
Into an era of more of the same…
Or might we choose to make
This time a waking-up event
A moment of world empowerment?
As an African woman, I am aware that this article, like most that address the succession race, is silent on the role of women in leadership. Rather than collude with the lie of men’s exclusive and natural predisposition to lead, the omission is intentional. The story of African women leaders and warriors is complex and big. It calls for its own time and space.
Mmatshilo Motsei is a feminist and author of the book, The Kanga and Kangaroo Court: Reflections on the Rape Trial of Jacob Zuma