Jeff Radebe is emerging as the Essop Pahad of Jacob Zuma’s administration: a bullying fixer who is deployed to push through crude solutions to political obstacles.
Pahad was adept at using the jargon of revolution to manufacture consent. Radebe is the purveyor of a cynical and dangerous populism — usually couched in the language of transformation — that serves as cover for efforts to entrench a culture of compliance.
The outcome of the Hlophe matter is testimony to Radebe’s unblushing style of blunt manipulation — and should be the backdrop against which we should assess the credibility of the Zuma government’s professed commitment to judicial independence and the rule of law.
No sooner had he been appointed as minister of justice than Radebe waded into the Judicial Service Commission, postponing its sitting on the pretext of addressing transformation. Instead, he used the delay to appoint four new members acceptable to the Zuma administration.
Zuma’s candidates seemed to have been chosen based on a shrewd assessment of their susceptibility to manipulation.
Of course we heard nothing about Radebe’s deliberations on transformation. His new team, as predicted, back-pedalled on the decision that Hlophe should face a formal hearing and be cross-examined. Instead there was a ‘preliminary inquiry†— initially intended to be behind closed doors — which allowed Hlophe to put forward his colourful version of events and schmooze his most ambivalent accuser, Judge Chris Jafta.
This gave Radebe the opening to craft Hlophe’s dubious absolution, backed by his three nominees (Dumisa Ntsebeza had earlier appeared for Hlophe and recused himself) and by Marumo Moerane, an advocate whose legal career has been so closely tied to the executive that he could almost be regarded as a civil servant.
It is significant that the only two sitting judges on the panel — both black — are understood to have voted for a formal hearing to go ahead.
It is an open question whether Radebe was motivated by a desire to save Hlophe, or whether the Cape judge president merely served as a useful tool for taming and compromising the JSC.
This week Radebe’s skills were on display again as he briefed Parliament’s defence committee as chairperson of the national conventional arms control committee. Radebe rebuked attempts by Democratic Alliance MP David Maynier to elicit detailed explanations about some of our more controversial recent arms deals — such as the delivery of ammunition to Zimbabwe and the sale of sniper rifles to Syria — claiming he had provided sufficient information.
‘It would not be appropriate to go into every transaction we have authorised and not authorised,†he sniffed. And to back him up there was a chorus of outrage from the ANC at Maynier’s temerity in supposedly jeopardising national security by disclosing some details about the sales. Committee chairperson Mnyamezeli Booi ruled Maynier out of order and, after the meeting, ANC chief whip Mathole Motshekga issued a statement saying he would ask Speaker Max Sisulu to remove Maynier from the committee for illegally obtaining and disclosing classified information.
Rubbish. He was doing his parliamentary duty.
The short resurgence of independence and accountability that occurred during the closing months of the Mbeki era appears to have been smothered — and Radebe is among the most dangerous of the new mandarins.
The Mark Shuttleworth of con men
Thank you Brandon Huntley, self-proclaimed white-dog refugee. Thank you. You have given South Africans a new hero, and lord knows, we need heroes in this country. You, sir, are the Mark Shuttleworth of con men.
For centuries, the Western imperialists have been peddling their lies and false ideologies to Africa, and now is our time to strike back. They brought us Jesus, we’re giving them the Brandon. And if they pay a little extra, we’re willing to throw in a very good deal on the Brooklyn Bridge.
They foisted upon us the nation state. In return, the Brandon has exported that quintessential Capetonian attitude we call dofness. This is a man who is so damned lazy he couldn’t be bothered to report to police the seven vicious attacks on his person. Respect.
Beware, Canadians! Soon you will be wandering around smoking spliffs, tripping over the odd moose and saying ‘snowshoo, bru†when someone asks you to do a little work. The Brandon is our Trojan Horse, although admittedly bull is the quadruped that more quickly lurches to mind.
Naysayers appear to doubt that the Brandon could have been attacked seven times. Pah! Unbelievers! You only have to look at a picture of him to know: that is a face demanding to be slapped.
Of course, nowhere is really safe for a white man. In every settler colony you flee to, there is some whining indigene still angry because you tried to exterminate his race. Lighten up, people! Metaphorically speaking. And Canada is as dangerous as South Africa or Australia in that regard. Where South Africa has black people avid for revenge on sprinkler salesmen, the Brandon will soon meet the inconvenient Inuit of his new native land.
And let’s spare a thought for the hero who made the brave decision to enfold the Brandon in Canada’s chilly embrace, William ‘Wooden Nickel†Davis. Bill, the fans of the Brandon thank you, and present you with the Star of South Africa in tribute. It comes with a $1-million dollar cash award. As soon as you send a $50 000 (US) handling fee, the money will be transferred to your account.