Give us great, decisive acts of bravery

IT WAS Lord Horatio Nelson, ViceAdmiral of the British navy during the Napoleonic wars, who, when the British fleet was outnumbered by French and Spanish ships at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, rallied his men to such dramatic acts of bravery that they not only won the battle without one British ship lost, but decisively ended French plans to invade England.

“England expects that every man will do his duty,” was Nelson’s now immortal rallying cry.

That Nelson had earlier lost the sight of one eye, was perhaps a metaphor for this demonstration of single-minded purpose.

Remember the Xhosa poet who wrote in part: Iyavuya indoda esisiqhwala kuba ihamba ijemla ngasemva/ Iya vuya indoda emehlo linye, kuba ibona intw’enye ngexesha [Joyful is a limping man because his head keeps looking back/ Joyful is the one-eyed because he looks at one thing at a time].

Well, South Africa now finds itself similarly thrust into perilous waters and what is required are acts of great bravery to decisively rescue the country.

We therefore expect that every man and woman in parliament will do his or her duty when the vote of no-confidence in President Jacob Zuma takes place next month. Voting in support of the motion will not be a discharge of duty to a caucus or political party, but a duty owed to South Africans who elected them.

The background to this much anticipated vote is that the UDM leader Bantu Holomisa, supported by other opposition parties, approached the Constitutional Court challenging the claim by the Speaker of parliament, Baleka Mbete, that she lacked the discretion to decide on whether a vote of no-confidence could in fact, be conducted by secret ballot.

Without a secret ballot the likelihood was slim, went the argument, that all parliamentarians would be able to vote freely and according to their consciences rather than under duress and according to the dictates of a party caucus.

Holomisa submitted that ANC MPs in particular, were afraid of nailing their true colours to the mast and of voting that an errant President had not only overstayed his welcome but had messed up in many ways now known to all and sundry.

Legal experts agree, a secret vote is often resorted to when this would be in the public interest. Period.

A good example of a secret ballot is what happens at the polls during general elections. I often joke and say that no one can depose in an affidavit, what party Tat’uMandela [Ah! Dalibhunga] voted for in the 1994 general elections.

If it is true that the ANC members we have sent to parliament are now so cowardly, then this is the only route open.

Let us not know WHO voted for what, but that this is WHAT was voted for by unknown people. Strange logic indeed!

Remember, in a secret ballot technically even a member of the UDM, the party which approached the ConCourt, can vote against the motion of no confidence.

Despite my enthusiasm for the approach to the ConCourt, I still found myself with a quandary. We are in a democratic country. Majority rules. If the majority should, by show of hands, vote that the no-confidence vote should be secret, what court could give an order in favour of a minority?

Whatever sense could we then make of Abraham Lincoln’s definition of democracy – “government of the people, by the people, for the people”?

While the history of a secret ballot system is as old as Greece, it has evolved over time, driven by the imperative of public accountability. A number of developed countries, to wit, Britain, have so refined the process that today it can be verified who voted for who by matching numbered ballot papers with the recipients’ identification details. The objective is to obviate non-existent voters. This issue of personal identification, and therefore accountability, will be further re-enforced in future by technological advances.

Today, in terms of the Electronic Communications and Transactions Act, 2002 (Act 36 of 2002), it is permissible to hold meetings by video-conferencing and vote electronically across the length and breadth of the country. Thus in terms of the Companies Act (Act 71 of 2008), legitimate meetings can be held with people dispersed everywhere.

In such circumstances a secret ballot is an antithesis.

A secret ballot is also unknown in our traditional courts [iinkundla]. Not for reasons of illiteracy. Those could be easily solved. The imperative was always personal identification for the choices made.

Fortunately in the Zuma no-confidence motion the ConCourt has tossed the ball back into the court of the Speaker of parliament. Mbete is herself a creature of parliament in the sense that it appointed her. Hence her current consultations.

But I have since changed my mind on the issue of a secret ballot. After all, it’s only a fool who does not change his mind if he has one. I agree with Professor Steven Friedman. Public representation equals public accountability. You can’t be a public figure and yet account privately.

It is high time our public representatives are willing to stand up and be counted. We were under the impression that we had elected men and women of, among other attributes, courage.

As we often say, igwala kulonina [To his mother’s place, flees a coward]. Or more poignantly, kuyalilwa kulokroti; kuyahlekwa kulogwala [commiserations at the Brave’s place; jubilations at the Coward’s place].

ANC MP Makhosi Khoza has shown the way with grace and grandeur. She is, as Nelson was, ready to fall on her sword [ukufela umkhonto wesizwe!].

SACP delegates last weekend decided to bite the bullet and vote in favour of secession from the ANC. A presumption, rebuttable as it is, must be made that they did so openly and accountably.

After all, politics, properly conceived and genuinely applied, can be tantamount to martyrdom, as happened in the dark days of apartheid.

Our liberation correctly brought with it a notion of redistributive justice, a legal concept. It’s a pity it was interpreted into BBBEE [Broad-based Black Economic Empowerment], and the PPPF [Preferential Procurement Policy Framework] and other similarly shortsighted practices.

These have proved to be the eggs of doom that hatched the economic ills of today – the rich getting richer, the poor poorer; worsening poverty; rising unemployment, and so forth.

Having said all of this, democracy dictates that those who still believe in a phantom tale of a Zuma regime must be allowed to vote freely. It is then that those who are travelling the road to Emmaus, er.. sorry, travelling the road to the December elective conference, can be easily identified.

Remember President Thabo Mbeki’s warning, iqolomba alinyelwa; umthi wendlela awuchanyelwa, hleze uwufune xa ubuyayo [a traveller does not defecate in his cave nor urinate in his tree shade; lest he needs it on a return trip].

Professor Mncedisi Jordan was on the staff of Fort Hare and Walter Sisulu universities, teaching and supervising accountancy students. He now researches indigenous cultures