In these pages we have bemoaned the weakening of Parliament over the years due to the loss of skilled personnel and their replacement by what we called B-grade politicians.
It is therefore appropriate that when work such as the comprehensive review of the Chapter Nine bodies and other state-supporting institutions is performed by parliamentarians, they equally deserve our plaudits.
These institutions were created to ensure that the state becomes more open and responsive to the needs of citizens and that the constitutionally enshrined rights are realised. However, in reality, most of these bodies have remained little-known, urban-based structures that become active once a year when they have to prepare glossy reports for Parliament about their activities.
The collapse of several of these institutions into a single umbrella human rights commission is sure to save money and mark the end of several monstrous institutions, many of which seemed to exist only to pay the salaries of those manning them.
More importantly, people who need help will no longer be shunted from one body to the next as they will have some kind of one-stop shop.
Some, such as the Pan South African Language Board and the Commission for the Promotion and (tongue-twisting) Protection of the Rights of Cultural, Religious and Linguistic Communities, were duplicating work and seemed unaware of one another’s existence. Some were even confused about whether they should be doing research, implementing policy or performing oversight functions.
The National Youth Commission and the Commission for Gender Equality have become increasingly bloated and have swallowed more resources while remaining gripped in inertia. Others, such as the Public Protector, largely spend time ingratiating themselves to ruling party politicians and defeating the purpose for which they are supposed to exist.
We therefore feel that the future appointments to the restructured human rights body and its desks should be guided by more meaningful public involvement and less political interference. We agree with the recommendations that the role of civil society should go beyond nominations and should include participation in the appointments. Ministers should also have no role in appointing their own watchdogs.
The Judicial Services Commission (JSC), which appoints judges to the highest courts, and the process it follows in making appointments, is a model of what we think appointments to these bodies should be. The JSC is composed of professionals, academics, politicians from the ruling party and the opposition, with the voice of professionals carrying a lot of weight. We would also recommend that the mandate to all of these bodies should include proactively taking up matters rather than waiting for complaints to be lodged, and jacking up their advocacy divisions to ensure that those communities they need to serve know about their existence.
And now for the implementation …
Kickback City
The Oxford dictionary describes a kickback as a payment, usually illegal, made to a person who has facilitated a deal or an appointment.
“R has been speaking to me about the 50% payment. The company has to pay 50% back on every payment received by the company from the client.”
This classic kickback was allegedly paid to Parliament’s former security adviser, Russel Christopher (“R”), by the security company, Africa Strategic Asset Protection (Asap), and facilitated by the middle-man, Shane Jacobs, who put together a massive contract to secure the parliamentary precinct.
Our exposé reveals how Christopher and Jacobs secured the contract for Asap and then went on to win several others across the public sector, most recently a slice of a R1-billion scanner contract at Sars.
The story reveals the extent to which the multimillion-rand parliamentary security contract was corrupted from the very beginning. It is a tale of the lethal collision between the politically connected and the corrupting cronyism that has bastardised the empowerment tender system.
As we write elsewhere in the newspaper, preferential procurement is probably the one area in which black economic empowerment can take hold in the economy. But as this story shows, the system risks degenerating into a cronyist mess.
To prevent it, the authorities must show that they are serious about rooting out corruption. The case is clear for a parliamentary investigation into the awarding of the contract. Parliament is the steward and protector of the country’s anti-corruption arsenal; it is the deepest and saddest irony that such corruption happened under the nose of the legislators.
Asap has won contracts across the public and private sectors. Its shady business practices have now been exposed and an investigation should go beyond only the parliamentary contract.
Unfortunately, the South African track record of dealing decisively with corruption and cronyism is poor. We risk becoming like Italy or Nigeria, where the greasing of the palm is an acceptable way of doing business.