Champagne cocktail

THERE will much rejoicing in high places today over the ANC’S decision to expel Julius Malema from its midst. There are good reasons for their satisfaction: Malema has cynically ridden a wave of dissatisfaction inside the country for his own purposes.

His supposed commitment to the poor has been exposed by his own lavish lifestyle. It is difficult to take him seriously when he professes to speak for the poor while sipping ridiculously expensive champagne.

As ANC Youth League leader, he has used the power of his position to accumulate wealth and property, while talking loudly against both.

Within the party, he has shamelessly switched camps as his political fortunes waxed and waned – his positions dictated by personal ambition rather than principle.

But those who are raising a glass today might want to consider the reasons for the extraordinary support that Malema has managed to elicit for himself. His views on our history, our economy, the land issue and nationalisation have found considerable purchase across the country.

There is an obvious reason for this: many people feel that their lot in life has not improved and that the dreams of 1994 have been betrayed.

Malema has tapped into a deep wellspring of anger and resentment (he is particularly adept at playing on the latter). His solutions to our predicament may be glib, but they resonate among those who feel the consequences most.

It is incumbent on those in power – including those who have moved against Malema now – to act with determination to address the issues he so skilfully manipulated. A humble and honest assessment of the achievements and failures of the past decade would be a good start.

Many political analysts are suggesting now that Malema has been outmanoeuvred and is heading into a political wilderness. Already his former allies are heading for the hills.

But while Malema may fade away, the issues that he highlighted will not – and the people who responded to him with such enthusiasm will remain angry and resentful.