South Africa

Crises tend to escalate quickly in South Africa. Just weeks ago there were precious few South Africans who could have identified John Hlophe, the Cape Judge President. Now he is at the center of a row over his alleged involvement in the ongoing arms scandal that some are calling “the greatest showdown in South Africa’s legal history.” Let us assume that this charge is hyperbolic – from the Treason Trials to Jacob Zuma’s forthcoming charges related to those Hlophe faces, the country has not lacked for legal drama, especially in the era after 1948. Nonetheless, the fact that it can be written speaks to the gravity of this crisis.

The ANC is standing behind Hlophe, who adamantly rejects all of the charges, nationally as well as in some of the provinces.  As usual in South Africa, it is difficult to discern where justice, loyalty, and politics converge and where they separate. One tends to assume that all decisions are in some way political. Whether that is cynicism or realism talking, I’ll let readers decide. 

Dave Zirin of The Nation has a fascinating take on the intersections of xenophobia, violence, ubuntu, and sport in South Africa today. Here is a taste:

Criticism has been widespread about the lack of response by South African, not to mention Western, leaders. But there is an important, overlooked and–we can only pray–decisive tide of condemnation coming from that most global of sports, soccer. Soccer players in the African leagues often move from country to country in search of new challenges and better salaries. They are heroes on the continent, and many aren’t willing to be silent.

Gilbert Mushangazike, a star striker from Zimbabwe who plays for South Africa’s Orlando Pirates, said recently, “We are heroes when we score goals but we are people’s enemies on the streets. Although I’m here legally, I’m so scared that I’m even afraid to walk on the streets or go visit my friends. This whole thing has affected me and many of my teammates. We are simply not taking this whole thing very well. We are all human beings and people must treat [us] with respect and dignity. There are many white foreigners out there but they are not attacked. It’s a good thing that I’m flying out to Zimbabwe for national team duty because I don’t know how I would survive, because I’m even scared to go shopping.”

Although I believe that Zirin, who writes about the intersections of sport and society, is fundamentally right, the problem with asking athletes to speak up is that when we ask them to do so, the implicit message is that we want to hear them when they agree with us. Otherwise, we want them to remain silent. The same can be said of Hollywood stars and other famous folks. Generally speaking, I do not care what an athlete or an actor or a rock star thinks about politics unless it is clear that they have done their homework and really know what they are talking about. Still, in this case, if African soccer stars can speak up and make a difference, I hope that they will do so.

Thabo Mbeki is receiving criticism from just about all sides these days. His reactions to the xenophobic violence are being called “too little, too late.” The country’s manufacturers fear that rising costs will cut into competitiveness, and heads of state always suffer when their economies falter. Morgan Tsvangirai has asserted that Mbeki is unfit to broker the Zim crisis for SADC. The utterly disillusioned South African Communist Party believes that Mbeki should face a recall and the country should hold elections early to replace him. And then there are the columnists. Increasingly it is difficult to believe that Mbeki will last one more year with the way his critics all around are sharpening their knives.  

This analysis in The Mail & Guardian seems to capture pretty well the ways in which recent events — most obviously, but not solely, the explosion of violence against foreign Africans — seem to have shaken the ruling party from its complacency. The responses from Thabo Mbeki and Jacob Zuma have been especially telling.

Even as Zuma has shown a fairly deft political touch on many of the issues facing the country, especially compared to Thabo Mbeki’s tin ear, it is still disquieting to hear talk from Mbeki’s anointed successor of the ANC being the inevitable outcome of divinely sanctioned rule destined to endure forever. This is not the sort of talk that seems likely to convince outsiders and the ANC’s internal critics that the country is moving in the right direction. Such perceptions are not vitally important. Nor are they meaningless.

Mbeki, meanwhile, continues to oscillate between shrill and defensive posturing and seeming fecklessness. One wonders who will be happier when the 2009 transition rolls around, the masses of South Africans who have soured on Mbeki and his leadership or Mbeki himself, who will likely find a golden parachute into the private sector.

This just in: Inkatha Freedom Party leader Mangosuthu Buthelezi is mostly concerned with the interests of Mangosuthu Buthelezi. Buthelezi is threatening to file suit to prevent the passage of a law that will make the position of chairperson of the KwaZulu-Natal House of Traditional Leaders permanent, thus forcing him to choose between his position as part-time chair of the house and his job as a national Member of Parliament. But wait — there is not just self interest, but also hypocrisy at work: Buthelezi initially championed the legislation when he thought it would allow him to consolidate his power without consequence. If there is a politician with the capacity to become a Big Man in South Africa, it is Buthelezi. Thankfully he does not have a broad enough power base to use as a springboard to national leadership.

Anyone who has traveled in South Africa and talked politics with people has heard something along this lines: This country is just like Rhodesia, and under black rule we’re going to turn into Zimbabwe. This sort of “When We” alarmism, equal parts racist tripe and romanticized fatuousness is also common among expats around the world and among former colonialists of a certain age. It was thus refreshing to see that Jeremy Cronin, in his Chris Hani Memorial Lecture, addressed this question directly. One need not ardently support the South African Communist Party (I do not) to find a great deal of merit in Cronin’s cogent argument that whatever South Africa’s problems, it is not likely to follow the path of Zimbabwe.

[Cross-posted at the FPA Africa Blog.]

Times are certainly strange in South African politics in a post-Polokwane world. After all, where else could a non-violent, indeed, from a constitutional vantage point rather smooth, inter-party leadership transition lead to what is effectively a lame-duck political status for many of those in power across the country at the national, provincial, and local levels? Indicative of this strange set of curcumstances, Thabo Mbeki, whose handling of the Zimbabwe crisis only served to damage further an already crumbling reputation, caved in his support for the controversial Scorpions crime-fighting unit largely because of pressure from Jacob Zuma and Zuma’s supporters and that organization will soon disband unceremoniously.

Clearly Mbeki is aware of this status, as is Zuma, and to their credit, neither man is pushing too hard in the face of realities: Thabo Mbeki is still the president of South Africa; he will not be a year or so from now. Zuma knows that this gives him leverage, but so far he has been loathe to use it too obviously. It remains to be seen whether this tenuous situation can hold. And the standard caveat applies: If Zuma goes down on corruption charges, the whole dynamic of the game changes overnight. Zuma knows this. So too does Thabo Mbeki.

Jacob Zuma’s reputation appears to be enjoying a fairly significant renaissance. He has even made Time magazine’s list of the “100 Most Influential People,” an irredeemably silly exercise that nonetheless is an indicator of Zuma’s rise as a potentially serious player not only in South African politics, but perhaps continent-wide and globally. Now if only those corruption charges would disappear (along with the nasty aftertaste from those rape charges) Zuma might be in great shape.

Current crime and fears of crime, coupled with the contentiousness of the apartheid past (and the opposition to it) seem to be encouraging a debate over the role of guns in South African society. Fikile-Ntsikelelo Moya explores the questions involved in this column at the Mail & Guardian.

Stop me if this sounds familiar: Recently prominent South African political leaders met away from the country’s major metropolitan areas in order to determine future leadership. The divisions were stark and clear and the leadership campaign tightly contested between two men, both of whom have their supporters and their detractors.

Welcome not to Polokwane 2007, but rather to the ANC Youth League’s (ANCYL) annual national conference at the University of the Free State in Bloemfontein. Some of the dynamics from the meetings in Bloem took on different characteristics from the internecine fighting of their parent organization. For example, in Bloemfontein both of the major factions had supported Zuma, as did the ANCYL constituency generally. But much else was up for debate in the leadership contest pitting Julius Malema (who received 1 883 votes) against Saki Mofokeng (who received 1 696). Malema’s allies swept the top five leadership spots, despite the fact that the voting results were similarly close in the winner-take-all contests.

Is this the future that the ANC can look forward to over the next generation? Constant infighting and bitterly divisive conflict? Perhaps, but quite likely not. The current divisions in South Africa are not permanent, do not have to be etched in stone. Still, the proceedings in Bloemfontein were intense enough to rouse Kgalema Motlanthe, deputy president of the African National Congress, to criticize the “state of disorder” that characterized the ANCYL meetings.