Is it a split or is it a splinter? Listening to Mosiuoa ”Terror” Lekota make his historic announcement on Wednesday morning, this was the question that nagged away. Like a lethargic larvae, it has been a long time in gestation. People have been whispering about it for ages, but it was far from clear whether it would finally emerge to show its head in public.
The truth is that few, if any, of us really believed it was likely or even possible. It defies logic in so many ways. If the SACP and Cosatu, with all their ostensible political weight, historical legitimacy and numbers, could not muster the courage to break away from the ANC to the left, why would a grouping from the right do so — especially since that part of the political spectrum is already so cluttered?
To that extent, Lekota’s was a courageous step. Of course, he will be vilified by the ANC leadership; national executive committee (NEC) stalwart Jeff Radebe had already set the tone with his vituperative response to Lekota’s open letter the week before. And even if Lekota and his disgruntled band of followers are squashed, they will have succeeded in putting into the public domain three substantial points of principle: concerns about what Lekota described as the tribalist slogans of Jacob Zuma and his supporters; the advocacy of violence from the same faction and the singing of songs about weapons that are ”irrelevant to this phase of our democracy”; and the call for a ”political solution” to the corruption charges against Zuma, seen as interference in the legal process.
Radebe will no doubt call this ”un-ANC”, just as Lekota asserts that tribalism, calls to violence and interference with the rule of law are all original sins against the fundamental ethos of the ANC.
But will it succeed? And how should we measure success? When the factions fracture it is confusing — and South Africa has few, if any, points of reference. As a former British Labour Party activist, my own sense of déjà vu comes from the occasion when the ”Gang of Four” split from the party in the early 1980s. Unsettled by the militancy of London’s ”loony left” and the anachronistic dogmatism of its new leader, Michael Foot, Roy Jenkins, David Owen, Shirley Williams and Bill Rogers launched the Social Democrat Party (SDP).
In the years that followed the SDP achieved little other than helping to keep Margaret Thatcher in power by splitting the anti-Tory vote. Arguably, however, they also helped sustain the notion of authentic social democracy, which, for better or worse, led eventually to Tony Blair’s New Labour. In a sense the Gang of Four fell on their swords for the good of a greater idea. I remember, as a young man, thinking of them as both noble and pompous at the same time. I also came to see them as foolhardy — a word that has already been attached limpet-like to Lekota.
The Gang of Four made an immediate impact because they were political heavyweights. In comparison Lekota and Mluleki George looked like featherweights on Wednesday. Both Roy Jenkins and Shirley Williams were intellectual giants; David Owen, the suave former foreign secretary.
But whether the SDP in the then tormented United Kingdom, or Lekota in turbulent South Africa now, the test for success will depend not just on the credibility of the leadership, but also on whether it can gain real political traction. That, in turn, depends on simple things — stamp-licking foot soldiers, money and, above all, a legitimacy that will enable it to gather support across working-class communities as well as that of a nervous yet salivating middle class.
If, witting or otherwise, Lekota is merely a stalking horse for more powerful figures within the Johannesburg political literati, with serious cash from the new establishment behind them, then this is not yet really about a new party, but, instead, an exploratory expedition to see if there is political space for a new party — an entirely different thing altogether.
This might explain Lekota’s curious ambiguity. Was it the announcement of a new party or not? He seemed to want to have it both ways: it is ”probably a parting of the ways” — a strong phrase that he preferred almost as an afterthought towards the end of the press conference — but also a ”consultative process … towards a national convention or something of that nature”.
Few seismic shifts in deeply entrenched political landscapes such as the ANC’s could have been launched with the phrase ”something of that nature”. The ambiguity suggests weakness as well as vagueness. Terror: you cannot be half pregnant — is it a new party or not? In the absence of a clear, powerful and credible answer to this question it is hard to escape the conclusion that this venture will be anything other than stillborn.
A change is as good as a rest. Cabinet reshuffles refresh the parts that other political manoeuvres can’t always reach, which is why they are so beloved by the prime ministers and presidents of western European democracies. They connote change and, moreover, a responsiveness. They signal that government has listened to the people — or the opinion polls, at least — and has responded; ministerial scapegoats pay the personal political price for the greater wellbeing of the government.
Such reshuffles have been conspicuous by their absence in post-1994 democracy. There was the 1996 reshuffle that brought about the end of Jay Naidoo’s RDP ministry-without-portfolio and the start of the growth, employment and redistribution programme (Gear). Thabo Mbeki didn’t do anything more than tinker, and only really when pushed by the force of nature — a death or serious illness within his Cabinet.
Once appointed as minister you could count on a five-year term regardless, apparently, of performance or popularity. That all changed the other day. Admirably prompt in his new appointments, the Motlanthe broom swept through Pretoria and fresh and mostly welcome new faces appeared in government. It got good press — especially Barbara Hogan’s appointment as health minister — and bought Kgalema Motlanthe precious goodwill at the start of his tenure.
His administration should be viewed not as a new administration but as a transitional one — bridging the period between Mbeki and ”After Mbeki, what?” Motlanthe’s primary assignment is to bring some stability to government and to restore some focus to its strategic and operational direction — a listing and listless ship urgently needs sobriety and energy at its helm. There is no doubt that Motlanthe can provide the sobriety — in political terms he is the balming milk to the fomenting fire-brandy of Mbeki’s whisky and Zuma’s wine. But does he also have the charisma and dynamism not only to inject life into the government but also to prevent the ANC from imploding? Can Motlanthe succeed where Mbeki failed?