The country has a chance to fall out of love with its expensive army

The deployment of almost the entire defence force to help the police maintain law and order seems, surprisingly, to have provoked a muted public response. Granted, these are extraordinary circumstances, but the largest internal deployment of the military in peacetime is a concern. Given the role the military has played in our history, one would have expected a public outcry. In Africa the military has had a debilitating effect, carrying out coups, suppressing democratic forces and generally denying people their right to freedom. Lack of development on the continent can be ascribed to the oppressive and stultifying role of military regimes.

Announcing the implementation of a lockdown on March 23, President Cyril Ramaphosa also said he would deploy 2,820 soldiers. A day after the lockdown the defence force called up reserves.

Even the deployment of 73,180 soldiers by Ramaphosa seemed to raise few eyebrows. Why such a big number? And why immediately, so soon after the deployment of 2,820 troops? The 73,180 comprises the entire complement of defence force active personnel. People smelt a rat, especially after some soldiers ill-treated civilians.

This week the Pretoria high court found in favour of the family of Collins Khosa, who was beaten to death, allegedly by soldiers. The court ruled that those implicated should be suspended pending an investigation.

Defence minister Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula told parliament the troops would help to establish field hospitals, procure medical equipment, install water tanks, and build and maintain bridges and roads. In anticipation of the high death toll, soldiers would also dig graves and help in mortuaries.

With soldiers helping, the country is at least getting bang for its buck. The military is an odd institution. Countries spend huge amounts on expensive military equipment, and troops — able-bodied men and women — sit around doing nothing except eat, sleep and train for a war that may not even happen. It’s like an insurance policy in case something goes wrong.

The military is oppressive and undemocratic, yet it is the jewel in the crown of all democracies. When people talk of a country being powerful, it is often a reference to its military might. Armies are pet projects of politicians of all hues, even in democracies, because they carry the flag and are often identified with being patriotic. They’re therefore never short of resources. Children can die from starvation or disease, but the army will always have the best toys money can buy.

The ANC waged years of struggle, purportedly to liberate the oppressed and underprivileged, and yet the first biggest expenditure on taking power was not on education, health or poverty alleviation, but on buying expensive armaments for the new integrated army. The now infamous arms deal ushered in corruption that still haunts the party and the country. Jacob Zuma, its amoral cadre which it foisted on the country as president, has yet to answer to corruption charges emanating from the arms deal.

Because soldiers often loll around with nothing to do, the devil, as the saying goes, always finds work for idle hands. Nowhere is this saying truer than in Africa. Kwame Nkrumah, pathfinder of African independence, was overthrown by the military in 1966. It set a pattern for the continent. Nigeria has had eight coups and in its almost 60 years of independence, 29 have been under military rule. Burkina Faso has had 10 coups. Chad, Comoros, Ghana, Ethiopia and Mauritania have had six each since independence. SA has had no military coups, but its four so-called independent bantustans have all had army takeovers.

Military coups, and the political and social instability they create, have contributed in no small measure to the lack of development on the continent. Often the forfeiture of political power in many African countries means the loss of employment because there are few, if any, job opportunities outside government. That makes free and fair elections and voluntary transfer of power in some instances almost a nonstarter. Fortunately SA has not yet experienced such a problem. For instance, when Ramaphosa was defeated by Thabo Mbeki in the race to succeed Nelson Mandela, he was able to go into business and make money.

The South African military has always been the politicians’ favourite plaything. It was, along with the police, an instrument of oppression. And it was, in the case of PW Botha, a ladder to power. And he sent the army deep into Angola to fight the Cubans, without the public knowing. It would routinely be sent to neighbouring states to flush out and kill ANC members.

The turning point came in the turbulent 1980s when the army was sent into the townships to subdue a rebellious populace. Suddenly the army was at war with its people on its own soil. It was an event that changed the politics of the country.

There seems to be no fear currently that the government could use the deployment of the army for nefarious political ends, probably because Ramaphosa comes across as a likable uncle. Would the country have been so blasé or indifferent had a President Bheki Cele been in charge, for instance?

One would hope, though, that this pandemic will lead to a reassessment of the gross misallocation of resources. More resources granted to crucial areas, such as health, education and housing, rather than ladled to a pampered military would be a positive by-product of this awful disease.