Is our democracy just a convenient vehicle to ride to power?

AFEW years ago, a friend — troubled by the arrogance and ignorant bluster displayed by the ruling party — asked pensively whether the ANC would voluntarily step down from power were it to lose an election.

Of course it would, was my perfunctory, almost disdainful, response.

But over the years I’ve reflected on my friend’s pained inquiry. I don’t think I should have dismissed it that lightly. It deserves a more sober and thoughtful response.

My own cogitation has led me to a point where I almost share my friend’s scepticism. Or is it cynicism? We have a democracy but I don’t think the party in power has entirely imbibed its values.

Democracy seems to its members like a convenient vehicle, a means to an end, not a principle to abide or live by. It serves the purpose at the moment, but there may come a time when it doesn’t.

The ANC has not worn power that well, not like true democrats would. Like a despot, the party often behaves as though it’s entitled to it.

South Africa was this week quick out of the blocks in congratulating the Economic Community of West African States (Ecowas) for forcing Gambian strongman Yahya Jammeh out of power after he’d refused to accept the outcome of the election.

It was a statement dripping with hypocrisy. This, after all, is a government which for almost two decades has actively and repeatedly assisted Robert Mugabe to defy the will of the Zimbabwean people. Here it was applauding Ecowas for hounding another autocrat out of power. The irony of its comment seems to have escaped its members.

We’re judged by the friends we keep. You can’t claim to be democrats at home while making common cause with tyrants and murderers abroad.

The contestations for positions are so fierce, almost to bloodletting, because often the victor takes more than the spoils. The fact that the party leader is sure to be the country’s president raises the stakes.

Jacob Zuma defeated Thabo Mbeki in Polokwane 10 years ago not because he was a better candidate. His personal attributes were almost of no consequence. What mattered more was that it was his turn. And his supporters were incensed that, by standing against him, Mbeki seemed to want to deny Zuma what rightly belonged to him.

Similarly, Mbeki had previously prevailed over Cyril Ramaphosa not because of the superiority of his candidacy or policies, but because it was his due. Ramaphosa was a Johnny-come-lately and tradition demanded that he should bide his time at the back of the queue.

A similar argument is being deployed by those punting for Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma. She has served her dues, they say, and the party is ready for a woman. Ramaphosa is still the perpetual outsider, a spoiler.

It’s almost like a credo that runs through the party. Which is why Zuma can say, without any fear of contradiction, that the ANC is more important than the country.

It is as revealing a statement as his comment that the ANC will rule until Jesus comes back. The message is simple: the ANC is entitled to power. And, as they keep reminding us, the ANC leads. It was born to rule.

This sense of entitlement has unfortunately denied the party the humility to be able to learn from its mistakes. Because it regards itself as having a right to rule, the party has not put much store by voters’ desires, and has thus failed to improve on its performance. In fact, the performance of the government and the quality of its leadership have deteriorated over the years.

Nelson Mandela and his cabinet were light years ahead of Zuma and his administration, which, like the leader, is mostly corrupt and incompetent. There’s no pressure to improve because they believe they’ll always be in power.

Such a condition tends to afflict most liberation movements. “We liberated you, therefore we’re entitled to rule over you in perpetuity.”

The current sense of entitlement, however, predates the new government and the ANC is not solely to blame for it.

It was customary among antiapartheid leaders in the ’80s to say, almost like a mantra, that the true leaders of the people were in jail and in exile. The external wing of the ANC was almost seen as a government-in-waiting.

And when the ANC was unbanned, the United Democratic Front and other affiliated organisations voluntarily disbanded and allowed the exiles to claim what was rightfully theirs.

So the exiles got into power, bringing with them their alien culture of intolerance and unaccountability. The ANC’s deployment policy also means that thousands of party members are now employed by the state, doing business with the state, or both. If the party were to lose power, a whole slew of activists, mandarins and hangers-on would be without an income. The party has become their meal ticket.

As the 2019 elections approach, the question will loom larger of whether our rulers, if defeated, will leave quietly and peacefully. The party’s reaction, especially in the metros, to the loss in the local elections was not encouraging.