Tough decisions lie ahead for Ramaphosa and a flash of anger could shake the naysayers in his ranks

There was a mixture of surprise, bemusement and befuddlement this week when President Cyril Ramaphosa was reported to be shocked and angry at Eskom once again plunging the country into darkness — and gloom — with a spate of electricity blackouts. His statement was a surprise because he had, during the state of the nation address only a few days earlier, eloquently laid out the issues confronting the parastatal and what needed to be done to save us from the total darkness around the corner. He seemed on top of his game.

But for him to suddenly come across as out of touch was a bit of a letdown. Dammit. He didn’t feel our pain, after all.

Anger is also not something that one easily associates with Ramaphosa. Something seems to have happened to him on his way to the presidency. His demeanour has changed. He smiles a lot and laughs readily, almost on cue. His supporters worry that such apparent niceness could be misunderstood or even exploited by his foes. Or is there steel behind the velvet glove? An angry Ramaphosa would be a sight to behold.

A smile can be deployed to disarm or impress one’s political foes. But there can never be a smile for all seasons. One cannot always wear a plastic smile like a clown in the circus. Used too often, it ceases to be an asset, and becomes a turn-off. Which demeanour to employ would depend on circumstances. A flash of anger can often do the trick. A leader should always have it in the locker. Although not always possible in politics, the ideal is obviously for one to be true to one’s self, to be genuine with feelings that come straight from the heart. Which is where Jacob Zuma — love him or loathe him — tend to best his rivals, not because he smiles and laughs a lot, but because his action or demeanour always comes across as genuine. A leader’s bearing should, on the whole, be able to capture, reflect or even lighten the public mood.

Power seems to affect people's behaviours in different ways. Thabo Mbeki, a networker of note and dubbed the acceptable face of what was then seen by some as a terrorist organisation when the ANC was still in exile, suddenly went into a shell once he became president. He even seemed to alienate long-standing friends who accused him of being aloof. Mbeki has a smile that can light up a room, but he rarely put it to good use. His supporters would have loved to have seen more of that grin. Things could have turned out differently. That contest for the ANC leadership in Polokwane in 2007 in the end was decided not so much as by who was the smartest, but who was genuinely the more likable; and Zuma won hands down.

A bit of anger, deployed with some cunning, can be a devastating political tool. When Nelson Mandela famously laid into FW de Klerk during the Codesa negotiations at Kempton Park the townships went wild with excitement. The whole thing was probably a stunt but it worked. It helped to cement Mandela’s cult status among his followers.

If Ramaphosa is now angry with the goings-on in the country, all one can say is “welcome to the club, Mr President”. Better late than never. The country has been gatvol for some time because of the mismanagement of its affairs and deliberate sabotage of its future by his organisation, with not an insignificant contribution by his good self.

The target of Ramaphosa’s anger should in fact be those closest to him — his party and its allies — who’ve not disguised their intention to undermine his attempts to save Eskom. But it is Mosiuoa Lekota whose neck Ramaphosa must have felt like wringing this week. Lekota — now there’s a man seething with anger — during the Sona debate accused Ramaphosa of having cooperated with apartheid’s Special Branch in detention in the 1970s and being rewarded with freedom while the rest of his comrades, including Lekota, were sent to prison on Robben Island. It was a damning allegation which in earlier times was often punishable by death. This being an election year, he was hoping Ramaphosa’s reputation would come crashing down. It was below the belt, and it earned Lekota a standing ovation from the EFF, who’ve often called him names.

It caused Ramaphosa to relive some of the most painful experiences of his life, including the fact that the security police — in an attempt to get him to co-operate — had sent his father, a policeman, to visit him while in detention to convince him to turn state witness. It was difficult to watch. It was as though Ramaphosa was pleading his innocence before a jury. All the while Lekota sat there staring and brooding like a bullfrog readying for a mating session. Ramaphosa’s explanation proves, if anything, that he has better struggle credentials than some of those sniggering loudmouths in parliament.

But Ramaphosa’s reputation will count for nothing if he won’t deal effectively with the corruption and crime that blight this land, bring the crooks to book and put organisations such as Eskom back to harness. Already, on Eskom, the unions have begun beating war drums. They’re dead against any retrenchments. Of course there will have to be job losses if the thing is to be turned around. It is inefficient, overstaffed and rudderless. Eskom doesn’t exist solely for the purpose of offering jobs to people; it is there to provide a service to the public and will employ people for as long as they can help it carry out its mandate.

This is a big test for Ramaphosa. Union support was crucial in hoisting him to power. But he’ll have to take some tough decisions, some of which won’t please them.