How the patient negotiator outwitted the master of political arts
Ramaphosa played the long game to achieve his political destiny and depose Zuma
● Everyone wants to know what President Cyril Ramaphosa is all about: what does he stand for? What are his politics? How does he operate?
The first two questions are easily answered. To understand what Ramaphosa stands for, look no further than the constitution, which bears his imprint. As the ANC’s chief negotiator, he played a larger role than anyone else in its formulation.
His politics are also easy to discern. He is a pragmatic social democrat who enjoys the support of the ANC’s left and the respect of those parts of business which embrace a democratic South Africa. And trade union federation Cosatu was the first institution to publicly back his presidential campaign.
He is not one to approach problems from an ideological perspective.
The third question — how does he operate? — is the most difficult and, therefore, the most intriguing.
There is an easy answer, that Ramaphosa is a negotiator. The state of the nation address was essentially a commitment to lead South Africa out of its mess by negotiation.
There is no doubt that Ramaphosa is comfortable when sitting at a table to debate solutions. It is his terrain, one where he wins. Negotiating the transition from apartheid to democracy was no walk in the park, whatever the twitterrati might say.
But this is not the whole answer. Like magicians, politicians never give a full account of their tricks, but a lot can be told from observing at a distance. And Ramaphosa’s real talent lies in playing the long game.
When he left politics in 1996, his ambition to succeed Nelson Mandela thwarted by the ANC’s exile lobby, he became a businessman, but he always had a return to politics in mind. Patience is key to the long game.
Sixteen years later, in 2012, as Jacob Zuma foundered and the ANC began to lose its grip on public support, the opportunity opened up and he returned to take up the position of deputy president.
From then on, the long game had one objective: amassing a majority of the votes of the 5 000-odd delegates at the ANC’s 2017 conference.
The rules of the long game dictate that the goal — however distant, however apparently unattainable, however wrapped in the mists of future politics — is the only thing that matters.
Actions fall into two categories: those that help you attain your goal; and those that hinder it.
The game is complicated by the ANC’s internal culture, which dictates that criticism should be kept behind closed doors and unity shown in public.
The long game dictated that Ramaphosa grin and bear it at Zuma’s side as scandals erupted, with him at times appearing complicit or inexplicably silent. It dictated that your opponent be kept comfortably numb, oblivious to your advances, until it is too late. When you strike, victory must be certain.
And so Ramaphosa stayed loyal to Zuma in public, all the while drawing into his camp the disaffected — premiers fired without good reason, provinces losing voter support because of corruption, veterans afraid their legacy was being destroyed, ministers relieved of their duties because they clashed over state capture.
When the moment was right — in mid-2017 — he had sufficient traction in the party and struck, calling for those behind state capture to be tried and jailed and for the money they had taken to be paid back.
Even then, he did not directly attack Zuma. Ramaphosa was fighting a master of the political arts, a man who had outwitted Thabo Mbeki and mounted the greatest comeback in modern politics.
There is little to be gained but attrition when you confront a powerful enemy in terrain that favours them. The right approach is to isolate them, strangle them, take away their resources and then, when the playing field is tilted decisively in your favour, turn up the pressure until they capitulate. That is the best way I can think of describing how Ramaphosa unseated Zuma once he had defeated Zuma’s candidate, Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, at the ANC conference.
Ramaphosa had won, but narrowly. The long game now had a new objective: the removal of Zuma and the grand prize of the presidency of the country.
Instead of a direct war of attrition with a high body count, Ramaphosa cut Zuma’s lines of supply. The most dramatic gesture was the replacement of the Eskom board with credible, competent and respected leaders. At the centre of Zuma’s spider’s web of state capture was the giant state-owned enterprise, converted into a funnel through which state bailout money flowed to the Guptas and captured board members through multibillion-rand coal contracts, inflated salaries and golden handshakes.
By snatching Eskom rudely out of Zuma’s hands, Ramaphosa sent a clear message that the old order was dying. Zuma no longer had patronage to dispense. To the middle ground in the ANC leadership, the message was clear: it was time to shuffle sheepishly towards the Ramaphosa camp.
Ramaphosa also made it plain that he expected the prosecution service and the Hawks to act decisively against corruption. Shaun “The Sheep” Abrahams, who had protected Zuma’s empire by omitting to act, now zipped on wolf’s clothing. Case files were dusted off. Dairy farms, Eskom HQ and — 10 years too late — the Gupta compound were raided.
The momentum having shifted decisively, it was finally time to act. Even then, Ramaphosa declined to confront. His impatient supporters were surprised when he unilaterally postponed an ANC national executive committee meeting to oust Zuma in favour of one more round of talks.
By not confronting Zuma, Ramaphosa removed his final weapon: his ability to play victim, to call on his supporters to fight for his dignity.
When the NEC eventually met, not one member spoke up for Zuma staying in office. In the ultimate symbol of capitulation, one loyal supporter, Water and Sanitation Minister Nomvula Mokonyane, is said to have declined to speak at all, claiming to have the flu.
Zuma was out and within days, Ramaphosa was delivering the state of the nation address to a standing ovation from the house. There was one final move in the long game: a farewell dinner for a defeated and bewildered enemy, filled with the victor’s laughter. Not difficult at all. A notice could have been issued to all border/exit points to arrest them, take away their passports, tell them they’re under investigation and may not leave the country.
Didn’t Police Minister Fikile Mbalula crow that he had done all that?
Yes, after they’d left. It’s great to play politics and make statements that you know don’t mean anything.
Even with those measures couldn’t they still have slipped out illegally?
Very easily, because of our porous borders. But it doesn’t appear that the Guptas needed to. They simply left the country legally because there was no legal basis for them not to. There was no warrant of arrest, they had their passports, there was no reason for them not to leave through the normal routes.
Should they have been considered a flight risk?
We’re talking about people who have properties internationally, originate from India and possibly have dual citizenship. All this would have told any competent investigator/prosecutor that there is a real flight risk here.
Why were they allowed to leave?
There will have to be an investigation into that, hopefully by the inquiry into state capture. Why did officials not take the obvious steps to prevent the Guptas and Duduzane Zuma from leaving the country? As far back as 2016 there was hard evidence at their disposal that serious crimes had been committed, and that they were a serious flight risk.
Who should be held politically accountable for allowing them to leave?
Certainly the minister of police, at that stage Nathi Nhleko, who oversaw the Hawks and could have been asking questions in terms of his mandate to hold them accountable as to why they weren’t acting. And the minister of justice could have been asking the same questions of the NPA.
How easy will it be to get them back?
These things are never easy. They always take a long time. This thing could drag on for many years.
Pravin Gordhan says it’s good for the country that they’ve gone?
I don’t agree. It would be a good thing for the country if at the moment they were trying to apply for bail and we could hold them directly accountable for their alleged crimes.
Should Jacob Zuma be considered a flight risk?
Not in the same way. He’s a South African citizen; it’s not clear that he owns property outside the country.