An integrity commission whose bark is a whisper and bite nonexistent cannot stop the rot

President Cyril Ramaphosa seems to have de-fanged the hyperventilating lynch mob baying for his blood at last week’s ANC national executive committee (NEC) meeting by promising to prostrate himself in front of the party’s vaunted integrity committee. The gang of thieves who thought they’d at last cornered their quarry were somewhat taken aback and blindsided by this meagre offer, a mea culpa of sorts. They were suddenly struck by the awful realisation that if he were to own up, they too would have to go and explain themselves — and they’d have a lot more sickening skeletons tumbling out of their cupboards.

It is always easier to elect a leader than to dethrone him. When you strike at a king, as they say, make sure you kill him. Otherwise you’re toast. But Ramaphosa does not seem to have a cruel bone in his body. His rivals therefore can always live to fight another day. As he keeps reminding us, his priority is apparently not so much to carry out his duties as president, but to unite his fractious ANC. In other words, he’ll fight corruption by getting into bed with the looters. That’s not just childlike naïveté, it’s suicidal.

Ramaphosa took the unusual step of fronting the post-NEC press conference probably only to prove that reports of his death had been greatly exaggerated, and to spin the narrative to his liking. His rivals had failed to lay a glove on him. The letter sent by Jacob Zuma on the eve of the NEC meeting — brimming with insults and cliches from the Bell Pottinger school of decorum — was supposed to be the coup de grâce. Ramaphosa, however, gave it short shrift, with an uncharacteristic hint of annoyance. The elephant on Zoom, as it were, was of course Ace Magashule, who could not have been pleased that Ramaphosa had stolen a march on him, and left him reduced to being an observer or bit player at what should have been his own parade. But he’s the boulder that will have to be cast aside if Ramaphosa is to make any headway.

It’s still too early for a victory lap, though. His enemies may have been thwarted this time, but they’re hardly daunted.

The ANC’s integrity commission has become an excuse for doing nothing about corruption. This dog is not only toothless, it is muzzled and has been kept on a tight leash by those it’s supposed to be sniffing. If you want nothing done, form a committee, someone once said. This is not to impugn the good name of the revered members of this august body. It’s a thankless task they’ve been given, if not a hot potato that no-one has the gumption to grasp. They’ve been chosen presumably because they’re party elders who, over the years, have done sterling work for the cause. The idea is obviously that their word will carry weight because they command respect among ordinary members. But the commission’s bark is almost inaudible and has no bite at all.

The idea seems to have been nicked from the constitution. The integrity commission is the ANC’s own version of a chapter 9 institution. We tend to talk up our constitution so much (the best in the world etcetera, etcetera) that we foreclose any possibility of making improvements even where necessary. A constitution is organic, always a work in progress, always allowing for addition or even subtraction. It evolves with society, whose mores it’s meant to reflect or even foretell. By harping on its perfection we intimidate any suggestion that it should in any way be tampered with. Who’d want to deface a work of art? There are some chapter 9 institutions that frankly should not be spared a day or a dime; but we dare not touch them. They are often a mere diversion, jobs for pals who will hardly pronounce against those in power.

The integrity commission has often found itself used unwittingly to shield those who had fallen foul of ethical norms. Whenever somebody is questioned for being enmeshed in some scandal, the knee-jerk response is often to say that the matter has been referred to the commission. That often postpones or silences the criticism. Also, the commission has to submit its findings or recommendations to the NEC, where most of the offenders are often to be found, a bit like an accused deciding his own case.

Ramaphosa says he’s in favour of giving the commission more power or making its findings binding. That has got its own pitfalls. It would create a parallel structure whose powers would supercede those of democratically elected leaders. That is never a good idea. Such untrammelled power can easily be abused. Public protector Busisiwe Mkhwebane is a cautionary example. Besides, will it have more resources to do its own research and investigations, or will it still depend on information gleaned from newspapers and other publications?

But the biggest downside of the commission and similar bodies is that it is reactive. It gets to investigate after the horse has bolted, and oftentimes after the tracks have been covered up. Individuals with shady backgrounds are therefore able to enter the system and get elected to powerful positions, where they can frustrate any corrective measures they deem threatening to their interests.

What probably could be more effective is a proper vetting process, right at the outset, of all individuals who aspire to senior party or government positions. A lifestyle audit would be done thoroughly on the candidate before they’re charged with huge responsibilities.

Also, these parallel structures would not be needed if elected leaders were to dirty their hands and do their job, including the awkward or inconvenient bits.