Time is not on Cyril’s side

To survive for a long haul, President Ramphosa has to manoeuvre carefully in these fraught early stages.

Of course, it never was going to last. Ramaphoria, I mean. Ramaphoria is the warm, fuzzy feeling that washed over South Africa with the ascension of Cyril Ramaphosa to the presidency. The sun came out, the rand surged, optimism soared.

But Ramaphoria was never going to be the same high-octane potion as the Rainbow Nation mampoer that South Africans had got vrot on. The Ramaphosa gilding of the ANC is already wearing off in patches, exposing the same old tacky plastic below.

The rand is in retreat. The public mood is again turning rancorous.

That the honeymoon is over was apparent in this week’s fractious parliamentary exchange between Ramaphosa and DA chief whip John Steenhuisen. Irritated by his interjections, Ramaphosa lost his cool, telling Steenhuisen several times, in a torrent of anger, to “shut up”.

Steenhuisen later tweeted, “To [those] celebrating that the president told me to ‘shut up’, laugh now but take note. It starts with the opposition being told to shut up. It’ll soon move to the media and pretty soon all will be ‘shut up’.”

That is uncharacteristic hyperbole from Steenhuisen. After all, this is the man that City Press claimed earlier this year resigned from the DA’s campaign team over the party’s initially hostile reaction to the new president. Steenhuisen reportedly argued that the DA should have welcomed Ramaphosa’s election with graciousness.

But for the normally phlegmatic Ramaphosa to lose his cool over some relatively mild parliamentary barracking – his predecessor chortled happily through much worse – may indicate the pressure he is under.

Ramaphosa gained power by a narrow margin. While he has moved adroitly to consolidate his authority, the battle is far from over.

Jacob Zuma is clearly not contemplating an idyllic rural retirement. He is not going to be spending his time wallowing with wife-ofthe-week in the Nkandla firepool. Zuma is trying to bolster his provincial powerbase, while white-anting Ramaphosa everywhere.

The precariousness of Ramaphosa’s situation is illustrated by events in North West. Fury over the incompetence and corruption of the administration of ANC Premier Supra Mahumapelo – strongly aligned with Zuma – has for weeks boiled over in violent protests.

In April, Ramaphosa cut short a trip to the UK to address the unrest. The textbook response to such antigovernment violence is first to restore public order, then to address the root causes of the disaffection.

Ramaphosa has taken a more circuitous approach. While he wants to placate community anger by getting rid of Mahumapelo, this had to be done diplomatically, so as not to trigger a revolt by the Zuma faction in the ANC.

It seemed to be working. After meetings with Ramaphosa, Mahumapelo’s resignation was announced on Tuesday. Then, just hours later when it became apparent that Mahumapelo’s successor would not be from the premier’s camp, the resignation was withdrawn.

Instead, Mahumapelo is on “leave of absence” and he has appointed finance MEC Wendy Nelson to act as premier in his place, while the behind-the-scene machinations continue.

To survive for the long haul, Ramaphosa has to manoeuvre carefully in these fraught early stages. However, he may not have time on his side.

For years there have been sporadic and seemingly spontaneous eruptions of discontent in many parts of South Africa. But this week a Human Sciences Research Council survey reported that 13% of North West residents now see public violence as an effective instrument of political change.

For a democracy, that is a chillingly high percentage. It makes for a vulnerable presidency.