Mbeki must break with party custom and speak his mind

DELIVERING his state of the nation address, which was marred by outright statesponsored thuggery and barroom insults on the hallowed floor of parliament, President Jacob Zuma began by acknowledging the presence of his predecessor, Thabo Mbeki, in the public gallery.

He was clearly glad to see the man he had so famously and ignominiously tossed out of power and has for years thereafter kept at arm’s length.

It is of course customary to welcome important guests who have taken their precious time to attend the occasion, which in recent years has degenerated into a shambolic affair.

This time, however, it felt as though Zuma, in heartily welcoming Mbeki, was seeking some sort of certification or affirmation from his erstwhile foe. Things are pretty bad. He needs friends.

Mbeki is of course no stranger to parliament. He used to command the place like a matador does a bullring. He stood on that same podium and delivered his well-crafted speeches.

Things were a little different then. People disagreed, but there was calm and decorum. Respect, reverence almost, were the hallmark of the place.

One wonders what went through Mbeki’s mind as he watched welldressed thugs assaulting MPs as if they were dealing with drunken tsotsis at a shebeen.

Was he shocked, embarrassed, alarmed? What of Zuma’s gaffes and guffaws? The place must look and feel decidedly foreign to Mbeki.

We are left to imagine his thoughts because apparently former ANC presidents, like naughty children, are only supposed to be seen and not heard.

They tend to lose their voices the moment they leave office. They keep their thoughts to themselves. The country is the poorer for it.

But things are so bad that Mbeki’s silence is almost deafening. He needs to speak up, and speak up frankly and unequivocally. He needs to find his voice. He cannot continue to keep quiet amid the destruction and depravity wrought by his party. He doesn’t have to condemn Zuma if he doesn’t wish to. But he needs to unburden himself, give direction and illuminate. Whatever it is, he must say it. He can’t just sit in the public gallery and enjoy the circus.

Mbeki is the only person who occupied the office that Zuma now holds who can speak or comment with authority on some of the burning issues confronting the country. FW de Klerk would be dismissed conveniently as a racist by those who would find his message unpalatable. Kgalema Motlanthe, a decent man, merely warmed the chair for Zuma.

But there is a tradition within the ANC that tends to discourage people from speaking their mind, especially when the party or its worthies are messing things up.

For instance, after retirement, Nelson Mandela tried to warn Mbeki against his dalliance with Aids denialists. He was to live to regret it. He was hauled before an ANC kangaroo court where he was told to mind his own business. Of course Mbeki didn’t confront Mandela himself. He left it to courtiers and flunkies to do the finger-wagging.

This fealty to the party is a culture born in exile. The party was operating in a hostile environment, the enemy was lurking around every corner. Unity and loyalty had to be maintained at all costs. Dissent was an indulgence that could not be tolerated. The party — that is, the leadership — became all-knowing and allpowerful, its word almost law-like.

When Zuma said some time ago that the ANC, not the country, came first, he was not being reckless. He genuinely believes such a canard. This veneration of party is what has brought us to such a sorry pass. In exile, the party fed, clothed, housed, educated, punished and even killed its own cadres with impunity. It could do no wrong. The exiles have now come home to claim their prize. They are now in power. But the culture that has sustained them for so many years in exile hasn’t changed. It has become the governing credo.

Which is why, when he was recalled, Mbeki obeyed the instructions of his party, even though he knew that, in doing so, the ANC was essentially breaking the law. His removal was unconstitutional and therefore a coup d’état. But he didn’t resist; instead he helpfully showed how his foes could expel him legally — the mark of a loyal, selfless cadre.

Such deference has served the party well. In power, the ANC has had access to state resources which have enabled it to retain its hold on its members and other hangers-on. Through schemes such as its deployment policy and generous social grants it has been able to buy the silence and acquiescence of a significant portion of the population.

But misplaced loyalty has to change if democracy is to stand a chance of survival. In some established democracies there are often eminent or respected members of society who, in times of crisis, would step forward and alert the emperor to his nakedness.

Mbeki is suitably positioned to play the role of the elder statesman. He needs to place country above party. The current crisis is crying out for such a voice.