His never-ending tactics

Zuma’s loveable character defangs the serious charges against him, writes Carla Lever

IF THERE’S one thing South Africans can agree on, it’s that former president Jacob Zuma has always been adept at putting on a show.

This has historically served him well – even when he was ousted in 2018. But lately his performance repertoire (and powerful stage) have both been significantly diminished.

It comes as no surprise therefore that he’s resorted to long-standing strategies in his appearance at the Zondo commission of inquiry into corruption.

These days, Zuma is fighting a battle for political capital. To maintain popular support he needs media coverage: he needs to stay visible to stay relevant.

It’s a canny calculation: Zuma knows he won’t change his critics’ minds, but he does stand to lose his supporters’ fervour if he is invisible for too long.

To that end, he has deployed a wider strategy. To date, this has mostly taken the form of his infamous December 2018 “Twitter comeback” – taking control of the online narrative through his own social media account.

Starting with a curious video post in which he slowly and repeatedly declared himself to be “the real Jacob Zuma,” he announced that he had decided to move with the times, to join this important area of conversation because “I hear many people are talking about me”.

Since then, his account has rapidly grown in popularity, swiftly amassing a sizeable 318k followers to the Presidency’s 1.1 million (on Twitter, of course, controversy pays off: Helen Zille has 1.3 million).

Zuma has used his account seemingly tamely, rarely giving any overt political commentary on charges, accusations or machinations of state. Rather, he uses the platform to release video “statements” wishing his followers well over holidays or telling lengthy, often rambling, personal anecdotes.

Typically, these video messages are low-tech and filmed from a living room. This serves up both a veneer of authenticity – a lack of hi-tech production value intimates we are getting the “real” Zuma – and a faux intimacy. While these messages may seem random and clumsily executed, they strategically portray Zuma as an elder but not elderly: here’s Zuma mock sparring with his son, and here he posts a clip of his daughter’s graduation.

Some of his most popular Twitter posts include “throwback” photos of his Struggle years and current affairs are often used to pointedly recall past exploits. A post on June 24 says:

“That Mabana video reminded me of the time we were detained at Hercules Police Station”.

By tying himself to a narrative of past Struggle hero and recalling apartheid-era espionage, Zuma doubles down on painting himself as a survivor of a hostile system, a servant of the Struggle.

This tactic was on full display during the testimony at the Zondo commission. His memory was impeccable when it came to regaling the commission with asides about his role in the Struggle and history of coup plots against him, but remarkably vague with recollection of any activity relating to corruption.

Despite this newfound humble presentation, spectacle is never far from Zuma’s core repertoire. At the Zondo commission, this was outsourced to full effect to a vocal supporter gallery, including the deployment of a chillingly effective slow clap and chant. The facts against Zuma may well stubbornly remain, but the performance must go on.

Much more effective than mere “yes men”, the militant public’s show of loyalty is what carries Zuma’s public relations momentum from his curated Twitter feed.

As he is well aware, the Zondo Commission will be reduced to headlines, grab quotes and iconic images of many South Africans. For most, it will simply be represented by viral clips and memes.

Nothing translates as well as a catchy entrance and, once again, Zuma got his takeaway moment.

This brings us to Zuma’s second performance strategy: above all else, keep them laughing.

Before commencing his Zondo testimony (during which his Twitter account has strategically fallen silent) he posted a video captioned, simply:

I thought I should brighten up your day.

In it, we see a jovial Zuma outside a door, pantomiming the protest slogan “Zuma must fall” in time to a short, improvised dance. By positioning himself as a loveable granddad “baba” to supporters and the punchline of a joke to his opposition, Zuma adroitly defangs the very serious charges against him. After all, the joker can say anything, so long as he keeps you laughing.

“The facts against Zuma may well stubbornly remain