THE IMPARTIAL OBSERVER
The Essence of Zuma’s Revenge
Hank Eso
Sunday 28 September 2008
Those who wrest political power from others, by means that are in the slight
less than germane to the will of the populace,
or as in this case of Mbeki to revenge a presumed transgression,
set the stage for the repeat of such gestures against them.
The set cycle, even if not vicious, will surely endure in the name of political precedence.
Third
World politics is often replete with revolutions of rising expectations. Such
events foist great consternation on foreign observers. If it was ever in doubt,
we continue to find new validations of the postulation by Enoch Powell, a famous
British politician that “all political careers end in failure.” South
Africa just presented us with another validation. Yet, if by definition,
failure is the postponement of success, defining political failure remains, at
best subjective.
Everyday we read about failed states but not detailed exposés on the collateral damages – the attending failed politicians. Then, even in developed countries -- Belgium, Japan and Italy easily comes to mind -- governments fail commonly. In Japan, there have been three prime ministers in the past two years. Since politics became a profession, when the politicians are tossed out of power, they go off to lick their wounds, regroup, and thereafter return for another run at it. In fact, it is only in politics that key players who fail publicly get another opportunity with hardly any questions asked.
Just as they are elected, political leaders and politicians are shamed out of office routinely. Some are goaded out, UK’s Tony Blair for instance. Some politicians are dismissed and some are defeated with ignominy. Some tenaciously sit tight in office and refuse to leave under any circumstance; late Hastings Kamuzu Banda of Malawi, Muammar Gaddafi and Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe are good examples. Francois 'Papa Doc' Duvalier of Haiti was another. In his case, he once proclaimed; “God and the people are the source of my power. I have twice been given the power. I have taken it, and damn it, I will keep it.” Often, I have wondered what it would be like, to be a fly on the wall or a shadow and be privy to the soliloquy of a failed political leader.
I suppose it is easier, to a certain degree, to accept defeat at the polls. However, what happens when an indictment and a vote of no confidence is used to oust a politician? In addition, what if, there is a tinge of conspiracy, revenge and betrayal in the ousting of a political leader? While in office, good politicians tend to leave their egos at home or behave as if it has been surgically removed. Many politicians, however, live in total denial when it comes to acknowledging that their time in power might be over. Tyrants and dictators are made of this stuff. In the end it is their ego that gets them. Bloated or hurt egos also lead some politicians to challenge their bosses and allies
Perhaps it is all a bit different and easy to digest, when political appointees are booted out; after all, they serve at the pleasure of their principals. But what if the failed politician is a Head State or Head of Government, or for that matter, any other elected official—governor, senator, congressman, mayor, etc. More intriguingly, what happens, if some loyalists orchestrated the ouster and achieved their goal through unsavory political machinations rather than by the force of arms or a coup? Many governments fail from sexual or financial scandals, from bribery and corruption and other forms of dirty politics. Playing dirty politics at Watergate brought down President Richard Nixon. The Iran-Contra scandal, involved the US clandestinely selling weapons to Iran, and diverting the profits to the opponents of the communist regime in Nicaragua. That scandal did not claim any major politicians. Some fail for gross human rights violation. Now we have another variable—the alleged tempering with a judicial process.
As far as we know, President Thabo Mbeki's recent ousting arose from a combination of factors none yet considered a political scandal. The tripwire was Judge Chris Nicholson’s intimation -- some claim concrete findings -- that Mbeki and some of his aides had continually run interference in the equally long-running criminal case against Mr. Jacob Zuma. The allegation against Mbeki, which was akin to jury or witness tempering was serious. However, it was even graver, since in intent, it presumably had political undertones and objective. Were it true and had it gone unchecked, it could have presumably, led to the wrongful conviction of Mr. Zuma. The rest as well as the reality, now belongs to history and punditry.
It must surely have been improbable to Judge Nicholson, that in simply performing his judicial duties, he would bring down a sitting and once very popular president. This is almost akin to the adage that “loose lips sink ships”. Nonetheless, if Judge Nicholson set the stage, the pulley or lever was yanked by the radical ultra-leftist elements within the ANC National Executive Council, and certainly, if not at the behest of Jacob Zuma, then with his tacit approval. Interestingly, others, including non-legal persons have for political ends and other reasons, given tangible value and meaning to Nicholson judgment and side bar utterances; including overarching and justifying political values, which I am certain were never intended by Judge Nicholson.
South Africa is not the only nation where internecine politics and power tussle has played out publicly. Neither is South Africa the only place where political malcontents have undermined or forced an elected leader from office. UK’s Gordon Brown rallied his forces to oust his ally and rival, Tony Blair, only to succeed him. Brown is facing similar internal and determined forces now arrayed against him. He has been so harassed that he recently proclaimed that he “did not come into politics to be a celebrity or to be popular”, but “to serve the people I love.” Unfortunately, such a disposition does not earn him any immunity. There, is a lesson for Jacob Zuma.
In instances when loyalists strike out against their principals, one is compelled to think of the fate that befell Julius Caesar. The brutality by Brutus, his undisguised betrayal and the supposition that he loved Caesar but loved Rome more, often replays instantly in one’s mind. Moreover, I suppose they also replay in the minds of the politically betrayed. I am convinced that the basic tenets of Machiavellianism, which stresses the end as a justification of the means, would utterly lose political relevance but for its adherents.
The world is suffused with historical instances when trusted political allies conspired to bring down eminent politicians. Historically, South Africa’s Thabo Mbeki has joined the ranks of such politicians. Perhaps, like many detached political leaders, he failed because he faced the same fate as isolated Julius Caesar, of whom it was said that, “in politics he had no force behind him save that of the discredited party of the populares.” It would be nice to take a head count of how many within the ANC leadership cadre who were still loyal to Mbeki at the time of his ousting.
Disgraced political leaders throw up some inevitable questions. When leaders fail, do they agonize over their mistakes, philosophically accept their failings and with resignation move on? Also, in their quiet reflective moments, do they really agonize at their recklessness and personal contribution to their political ruin or do they choose to wallow in their inglorious imperturbation? Do they speak out aloud to their Gods, and to their inner self, damning the day they were born, or the day they first set eyes on their betrayers? Do they paradigm their failure; doubt their past trusts and judgment? Do they soliloquize and if so, to what end?
In Mbeki’s case, the paradox confronting Judge Nicholson is that in attempting to protect the rule of law, he may have unwittingly thinned it. There is a legal dictum that comes to mind; something along the lines that it is preferred for the guilty to go free than for the innocent to suffer. In attempting to apply that maxim in favor of Jacob Zuma, Judge Nicholson unwittingly created the political prejudice used against Mbeki by his ANC colleagues. Interestingly, since Zuma has not been conclusively adjudged guilty or innocent of the charges brought against him, the case remains open-ended. Yet, in their quest for political revenge, the political forces within ANC’s leadership ranks may have procured Zuma’s innocence by fiat. In the process, they sacrificed Thabo Mbeki, a man they deemed the weakest link in the ANC leadership chain and weakened the rule of law. Notwithstanding this reality, the uncertainties around Jacob Zuma will not recede entirely.
The crux of the matter in South
Africa’s musical chairs is that Thabo Mbeki was never on trial. Jacob Zuma
was. Zuma might still go free assuming he was guilty, but Mbeki has already
paid the political price. Meanwhile, Mr. Kgalema Petrus Motlanthe who was
elected interim president seems an innocuous beneficiary of mixed fiats. It
seems the ANC cadre realized the dubious tint of their action, which explains
why Jacob Zuma was not inaugurated as the president. Doing so would have meant
bringing him in through the revolving but nevertheless, political back door.
It is worthwhile recalling lines from an old Jimmy Cliff song titled, “Sitting in Limbo” since they are fittingly appropriate. It states, “…. You can die in the mud while reaching for the stars….” Was this Mbeki’s portion and would he ask himself that? Also, would he ask why he did not heed counsel and quit while the ovation was the loudest and after he lost leadership of the ANC last December? My question is how would Mbeki dissect all these, in true candor to his inner self? Really, I am yearning to hear Mbeki’s Shakespearean soliloquy. I have wondered what he would say, were he to soliloquize in my presence. Would he in the same vein that led Richard Nixon to proclaim, “I’m not a crook”, go ahead and proclaim, “I’m not a meddler”? Would he accept for instance, as Clint Eastwood suggested the 1973 movie, Magnum Force, that even as president, “a man's got to know his limitations?”
Mbeki surely took the moral high road of quitting and preserving the ANC. Although his political shine was already dull and his political base badly eroded, he could have made his removal an in-house mêlée and rendered the ANC a house divided. He chose not to. Therein, lies some vital lessons for the rest of Africa’s leadership. It is an accepted fact that Mbeki did not rise to the top leadership position in South Africa by virtue of a tissue-thin understanding of the complexities of his country’s partisan politics. I have observed some commentaries bordering on know-nothing quality, in which the postulators advance the notion that Mbeki was bereft of clear understanding of how to balance South Africa's national interest with the country's priorities in international trade, finance and politics. This is hogwash. What happened to Mbeki was simple: He was a victim of political revenge and personal vendetta.
There is, however, a modicum of truth that Mbeki may have over exaggerated the level of tolerance and espirit de corps within the ANC. Perhaps, he also brought his untimely removal onto himself with his supposed paranoia. It is however, plausible that after fourteen years in power, solidarity novelties and political camaraderie may have simply worn off. If so, a clearer picture may yet emerge that Mbeki was a man inhibited and torn between two loyalties: his determination to lead his nation according to his tapered vision and a man going against the larger desire of his ANC colleagues to liberate South Africa from being mired in the ANC's liberation glory and growing indolence in responding to the nations socio-economic malaise.
Closer home, in Nigeria, we witnessed how macabre politics and the ill fillings between former President Olusegun Obasanjo and Vice President Atiku Abubakar almost wrecked the country’s nascent democracy. In the end, it yielded a contested and much weakened successor administration. Obasanjo and Abubakar, having been brought together by fate rather than by choice, wanted to destroy each other badly. Atiku had the unique opportunity to deny Obasanjo a second term but demurred. Consequently, that second thought cost him dearly as Obasanjo extracted his political revenge by denying Abubakar the PDP nomination.
Like Mbeki, and given the choice, far too many political leaders would have loved to be hounded out of office. It would have made no difference to them if the motive were real or merely personal revenge. Neither would it have mattered if their allies or adversaries were behind such contrivances. Quite unlike Mbeki, some had no alternative. Rather, leaders like Indira Ghandi, Yitzhak Rabin, Anwar Sadat, Murtala Muhammad, Olof Palme, Thomas Sankara, Benazir Bhutto and others, had their lives abridged by those who felt they should not continue leading their nations, not necessarily because they were bad leaders, but because they respectively had visions for their country, not shared by their political opponents and their allies.
Zuma’s revenge on Mbeki, though essentially political, was intensely personal. It will henceforth define South Africa’s politics in different ways, and then some. The benefit, if any, is that South Africans have shown that despite the controversy Mbeki’s ouster elicited, they are poised to ensure that such transitions are seamless. Clearly, they seem to have successfully preserved social order. In any other nation, including Nigeria, the outcome may have been starkly different. Nonetheless, we cannot lose sight of the fact that the state of play could also have been quite different, had Jacob Zuma and his allies ventured to have Zuma succeed Thabo Mbeki directly.
Ultimately, it is the remit of every nation to decide how to choose and deal with their leaders. After all, nations will and do get leaders they deserve. The moral content of how nations go about disposing of their unwanted leaders would also always be up to them. However, the world will always take note. In this context, Judge Nicholson will long be remembered in South Africa’s political history as a key player more than a footnote. His niche will be similar to that of Katherine Harris, the Florida Secretary of State whose political manipulation helped keep Al Gore out of the US presidency and instead got George W. Bush elected in 2000.
However, the bottom line in this regard, is that Thabo Mbeki is alive and well. He could therefore, still make some positive contributions to South Africa’s politics and the nation’s overall growth. As Henry Kissinger once observed, “power is a great aphrodisiac”. Those who wrest political power from others, by means that are in the slight less than germane to the will of the populace, or as in this case of Mbeki to revenge a presumed transgression, set the stage for the repeat of such gestures against them. The set cycle, even if not vicious, will surely endure in the name of political precedence.
With neither anger nor partiality, until next time, keep the law, stay impartial, and observe closely.
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Hank Eso is a columnist for Kwenu.com. His commentaries on Nigerian politics and global issues have appeared in The New Times (Lagos), African Profile International (New York), The Nigerian And Africa Abroad, (New York), African Market News (New Jersey) and in Gamji.com and Nigeriavillagesquare.com
© Hank Eso, Wednesday 28 September 2008.
Email: hankeso@aol.com