In love with big fancy cars that drive right over democracy
THE FIRST automobile was a peculiar object balanced precariously on three fragile-looking excuses for wheels. It was built with the sole purpose of transporting people from one point to another in a little more comfort than they were accustomed to up to then.
Now, just over a century later, its functionality is the least of its attractions. Just ask Dina Pule, who became Minister of Communications a few months ago.
When she was in her previous position, as deputy minister in the Presidency, she acquired two Mercedes-benz ML 4x4s as official vehicles (one for Pretoria, and one for Cape Town). These obviously met all her carefully selected requirements.
In particular, it met her preference for cars “with high ground clearance”. So, when Pule was moved to the Communications Ministry, she was reluctant to give these up. Not even the fact that she inherited two snazzy BMW 750i models from a predecessor, Siphiwe Nyanda, was enticing enough.
Nor were these just standard models. They each cost R1.1 million, and boasted various extra features, including a rearview camera, ambient interior lighting and lane change warning systems. Yet even these stylish safety measures were not enough to get Pule to transfer her affections.
She desperately hung on to her 4x4s, forcing her successor in the Presidency, Obed Bapela, to get around in hired cars for months. At times he even used one of the antiques left behind by Essop Pahad, with a horrifying 120 000km on the clock. Eventually Pule gave up the Cape Town car. Then, reluctantly, the Pretoria car. The 4x4s obviously represented something infinitely precious to her, something that managed to satisfy her needs at the deepest core of her inner being. They were not just a mere mode of transport.
German cars also appear to have a strange hold over Zwelinzima Vavi. The general secretary of Cosatu recently referred with some dismay to the Audi A7 TDI which he uses to nip around from one set of barricades to another.
“Look at the car outside,” he told a union gathering in Johannesburg last week, reportedly a long and silver machine. “And then look at the conditions of the working class South African of today. Look at the taxis they ride in.”
Yet, despite his obvious discomfort at the disparity, he appears unable to resist the charms of German engineering. He expressed no intention to give up his Audi in favour of joining his fellow comrades on the sidewalks of Jozi.
Why does a certain kind of automobile exercise such an irresistible power over the psyche of some people? They appear to be quite helpless in the face of the mystical qualities of the automobile.
Vavi tried to offer some explanation for being unable to resist its seductive charms. ”Let’s face it, comrades,” he said. “We are anticipating… a troubled year… because the conscience is going fast, fast, fast.”
But, surely, there must be more to it? The attraction to luxury vehicles cannot simply be ascribed to acquisitiveness, selfishness or egotism on the part of those in positions of power. These objects must somehow satisfy some primal need deep down that goes way back to our distant past.
No obvious logic can explain it. Our country’s leaders know South Africa is a vastly unequal country. In fact, many of them willingly put their lives on the line during apartheid to bring an end to inequality. Why would they now deliberately want to perpetuate it?