Jacques Pauw

The President's Keepers


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the Youth League, the South African Communist Party, his confidants in the ANC with whom he had worked over the years, and disgruntled and alienated former Mbeki supporters.

      With ballots cast and votes counted, the result was announced. The comeback kid had thumped Mbeki by more than 800 votes. In his victory speech, Zuma described Mbeki as a “friend and a brother”. He then buried him.

      Mbeki had a year and a half left of his second term as president, but nine months later, the ANC's National Executive Committee decided to remove him from office. Zuma delivered the news to Mbeki, who promptly resigned. ANC secretary-general Kgalema Motlanthe became caretaker president until the May 2009 election.

      * * *

      On 6 April 2009, prosecutions boss Mokotedi Mpshe addressed the nation and said: “I stand before you today to announce the most difficult decision I ever made in my life. It was not an easy task at all.” He said fresh evidence had emerged after the NPA studied the so-called spy tapes that were unearthed during Fraser's investigation of the Browse Mole report and those in the hands of Zuma's lawyer, Michael Hulley.

      Mpshe said that the recordings showed political interference in the prosecution of Zuma, which amounted to an abuse of office. He concluded that it was “neither possible nor desirable for the NPA to continue with the prosecution of Mr Zuma”. In justifying his decision, Mpshe emphasised there had been a valid case against Zuma. He added that the prosecution team itself believed the case should continue and that a court must decide whether to stop the prosecution because of political meddling.

      It later emerged that part of Mpshe's legal justification had been lifted from a Hong Kong judgment. That judgment was, however, later overturned on appeal.

      * * *

      By the time Jacob Zuma took the oath of office in May 2009, the daughter of one of his friends was pregnant with his 20th child. The child was born three months before Zuma married for the fifth time. By then, he had been unmasked as a venal, kept and gluttonous politician who had scant control over his carnal urges.

      South Africans had been alerted to an impending calamity, yet an ebullient mood pervaded large parts of the country as Zuma vowed at his inauguration: “This is a moment of renewal. I will devote myself to the well-being of the Republic and all of its people.”

      After the Mbeki era, when hundreds of thousands of Aids invalids wasted away before his very eyes while he denied them life-saving medication, South Africans opted for a “people's president”: the man cuddling babies in the townships and arousing the hopes of those whose hands he clasped. What they didn't see (or want to see) was that, long before his rise to the presidency, Zuma had been infected by the most noxious disease of politics: greed. And we all know that greed is a fat demon with a small mouth, and whatever you feed it is never enough.

      I urge Jacob Zuma to read It's Our Turn to Eat: The Story of a Kenyan Whistle-blower, written by the distinguished foreign correspondent Michela Wrong. It is a frightening tale of what happens when state corruption goes rogue and becomes endemic.

      Kenyan president Daniel arap Moi presided over two decades of state pilfering and repression. He was succeeded by the country's first democratically elected president, Mwai Kibaki, who proclaimed at his inauguration in 2002: “Corruption would now cease to be a way of life in Kenya.” In a country where ordinary citizens pay an estimated 16 bribes monthly to state and law enforcement officials, Kibaki promised the end of graft. He appointed veteran journalist and forensic investigator John Githongo as the head of the anti-corruption authority and gave him vast powers and an office in State House.

      Githongo unearthed the existence of Anglo Leasing, a British-based company that had 18 contracts with the Kenyan government for the supply of everything from a forensic laboratory to a navy frigate and jeeps. Sixteen per cent of the government's expenditure in 2003 and 2004 was paid to this company – which turned out to be nothing more than a street address in Liverpool. The Anglo Leasing payments were siphoned off to Kibaki's associates and cronies. They repeatedly told Githongo to back off. After being shunned by previous regimes because of tribal differences, the Kibaki cabal was in power and it was their time to eat – much like the previous power cliques had done. Githongo initially pretended to ignore their graft while collecting evidence. He surreptitiously wore a recording device while colleagues discussed the details of the scam – only to have it malfunction and begin playing back their incriminating conversation.

      His cover was blown. Kibaki refused to support Githongo, who received death threats and was tailed by Kenyan intelligence. He fled the country and blew the whistle in London. A few token officials and ministers lost their jobs, but Kibaki was exonerated and it was then back to business as usual.

      In 2007, Kibaki stole the election from his challenger, Raila Odinga. They were from different tribes, and decades of suppressed ethnic resentment and anger at the government exploded when Kibaki had himself sworn in. Tribal killings swept through Kenya and scores of people died. Githongo had warned against manifestations like these unless the government truthfully addressed corruption.

      Zuma's shenanigans are not unlike that of Kenya's Mwai Kibaki. And that is why Jacob Zuma should read It's Our Turn to Eat. Because he's eating, and those around him are also eating – while many have nothing to eat. That is why resentment at his rule is growing, leading to the ANC losing almost ten per cent of its support in the 2016 local elections and the Democratic Alliance controlling the biggest metros in the country. If the trend continues, the ANC will probably lose the 2019 general election, despite Zuma's July 2016 assurance that the ANC will rule until the coming of Christ.

      On the very day that I write this paragraph, the statistician-general announced that unemployment has hit a 13-year high. Nearly 28 per cent of South Africans (9.3 million jobseekers) have no work, and very few of them will ever find a job. They are unemployed for life. Exports are falling, commodity prices are falling, growth rate forecasts are falling, business confidence is falling. We have become world leaders in income inequality, racial tension, rape and illicit financial outflows.

      A few hours later, global ratings agencies S&P and Fitch confirmed South Africa's downgrading to junk status – which Treasury, under new finance minister Malusi Gigaba, welcomed. Yes, imagine a Trevor Manuel or Pravin Gordhan embracing junk.

      There is no dispute: Jacob Zuma has ripped the society and state to shreds. He swore at his inauguration to be faithful to our country and that he would observe, uphold and maintain our beautiful Constitution. It was all bullshit. From the moment he became president, the Republic was in the market. Under his rule, South Africa has become a two-government country. There is an elected government, and there is a shadow government – a state within the state.

      * * *

      South Africa has many John Githongos – a growing list of dedicated and skilled civil servants, law enforcement officials and prosecutors who have been malevolently and deceitfully purged from the civil service. They have honed and polished South Africa's law enforcement capacity but they crossed swords with high offices when they stumbled upon corruption perpetrated by the politically connected cronies of the ruling party, powerful politicians, and Jacob Zuma and his family members.

      This band of remarkable public servants are heroes of our democracy because in the face of injustice, corruption and nepotism, they have refused to let their voices lie silent. In most cases – despite their being experienced, skilled, reputable and independent-minded – the president's keepers drove them from their offices through discrediting campaigns, trumped-up charges, false allegations, malicious rumours and fake dossiers. Their careers were ruined, they were humiliated and shamed, persecuted and prosecuted, and had their life savings exhausted because of malicious litigation.

      The most important among those in the law enforcement agencies who were hounded into submission were former SARS acting commissioner Ivan Pillay and three of his executives – Gene Ravele, Johann van Loggerenberg and Pete Richer. They were joined by former national director of public prosecutions Mxolisi Nxasana, former Hawks head Anwa Dramat, former Gauteng Hawks head Major-General Shadrack Sibiya, former KwaZulu-Natal Hawks head Major-General Johan Booysen, former head of the NPA's Specialised Commercial Crimes Unit Glynnis Breytenbach, and former State