We have set the bar dismally low for our public representatives

The Electoral Commission of South Africa (IEC), to which we owe a great debt of gratitude, has eliminated a range of miscreants trying to be elected as public representatives. There are far more of them than just Jacob Zuma, the former president who ought to have known better.

The IEC reported that it has found 42 candidates appearing on multiple party lists involving 39 parties who now have until Monday to resolve the mini imbroglio. Being on different lists suggests dishonesty on the part of potential MPs even before they’re voted into office. But it was this line from a story published on TimesLIVE that caught my attention: “Other disqualified include people appointed by or in the service of the state ... and unrehabilitated insolvents.”

Unrehabilitated insolvents as honourable members of parliament? Well, I know we had the now infamous Dr Murunwa Makwarela, who briefly became mayor of Tshwane before he was exposed by the DA — which did not seem to have had any problems working with him as a council speaker in the multiparty DA coalition previously. That other politicians knew of his insolvent status but said nothing about it until it was convenient to do so proves there is indeed no honour among so-called honourable members. And now the IEC tells us that, besides Zuma, there are others trying to find their way into the National Assembly, which has become something of a theatre of the absurd.

Just this week, parliament — whose speaker, Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula, has made an absurd court application not to be arrested and to have access to the docket relating to her conduct before being apprehended by the authorities — told us it would once again be amending a bill dealing with intelligence structures, because the initial changes were geared towards simply serving Zuma.

“We are here today to deal with a painful past, but we must speak the truth and nothing else but the truth,” said ANC MP Bheki Hadebe. The act in terms of which the National Intelligence Agency and the South African Secret Service were created was one of the first laws to be amended when Zuma took office in 2009, but the changes, made through presidential proclamation, were — surprise, surprise — irregular.

What is troubling is not so much that something irregular has happened, because we’ve come to expect little from our lawmakers with a penchant for breaking the law, but that representatives of the people who knew, or ought rightly to have known, that amending a law to suit the narrow personal interests of the president conflicted with section 199(4) of the constitution did nothing about it until Zuma was forced to resign as president nine years later.

That this occurred speaks to the dearth of courage and talent in parliament, as well as a pervading herd mentality among our politicians. Parliament has become a place where you can’t speak your mind, and where toeing the party line (even if it conflicts with your duties under the constitution) is more important for your political longevity. The ANC recently reminded us of the “firepool”, and how that made our MPs a laughing stock.

We know the thievery, duplicity and profligate nature of our spies, as was exposed during the state capture commission. However worrying, that’s not the issue for now.

In theory, the rule is that people of unsound mind and criminals sentenced to 12 months in prison or more without the option of a fine are disqualified from serving as MPs. But we know from experience that some masquerading as representatives of the people arguably exhibit a different type of unsoundness of mind that has created many challenges for society. That even unrehabilitated insolvents are, in 2024, trying their best to become MPs shows how low the bar has been set.

If Zuma genuinely believed his sentence and conviction by the country’s highest court did not disqualify him from being an MP, then he has implicitly confirmed that MK, his regional party, is a club where the half-blind reign supreme.

As South Africans, we must inculcate a culture of scrutinising the lists of potential MPs — more than 14,000 candidates vying for 887 seats in parliament and the various provincial legislatures — and exposing the chancers. I am hopeful Dr Makwarela has been sufficiently embarrassed and will not try his luck again, but who can say for sure?

Once we have voted on May 29, we will leave our MPs, through various parliamentary committees, not only to hold government officials to account, but also to engage critically with crucial strategies for layered and complex organisations like Transnet, Eskom, Denel, and so on. But some of these very people may be unrehabilitated insolvents. During elections, we see so much hubris and hear so many empty platitudes.

To get more from our honourable members, we, the people, must, as the constitution enjoins us, collectively hold our MPs accountable to us through our active participation in politics. We must take a scythe to our bad, abusive relationship with politicians if we want different results from them. Haughty and righteous indignation are, as responses, insufficient.

It is pointless to complain about poorly run state-owned enterprises and government departments when we, as civil society, don’t pay attention to who gets the honour of being sent to parliament.