Can A
Lame Duck Waddle Off?
01 April 2010By Richard Calland
For 15 years I have wended my way up through the
labyrinth of corridors and stairs to the press box
high up above the Speaker's lectern in the National
Assembly to attend the State of the Nation address --
"Sona", as it is now jocularly known. I don't think I
have missed one since 1996.
As with attending a live football or cricket game,
there are advantages and disadvantages to being there.
All you see of the president delivering his Sona is
the top of his head -- if you are lucky and can lean
over the balcony from the front row.
His face can be seen on the big screens adjacent to
the press box -- but then you might as well be at home
watching it on TV. But if you are there, you can gauge
the atmosphere, the political temperature.
And last Thursday night it conveyed a message more
telling -- and, if you are Jacob Zuma, more chilling
-- than anything I have encountered in those 15 years.
From the right-hand side of the press box, just inside
the entrance -- tight to the sightscreen, as it were
-- you are afforded a perfect view of the Cabinet,
sitting in the first few rows of the ANC benches.
You can see their faces, as they watch their
president; you can observe their body language. And
last Thursday you could smell the sense of distance
and disdain.
There was no chemistry; nothing. Several members of
the Cabinet sat stony-faced; and they sat on their
hands when others offered insipid applause.
It extended up and behind the front benches too;
aphonic ANC backbenchers looked dismayed,
disheartened. Unprecedented: even at the height of
Mbeki's unpopularity, as resistance to his rule began
to approach critical mass within his own organisation,
there was respect and there was connection; his
parliamentary party never disengaged.
Of course, the ANC caucus is not the organisation;
indeed, it does not even hold a formal ranking in the
party's constitution. But losing the support of your
Cabinet is another matter all together. And it was
striking how in the debate on Sona that took place on
Monday the ANC defence of the presidential address was
so anaemic.
Where were the big-hitters in the majority party's
speaking list? Why no Trevor Manuel, no Lindiwe Sisulu,
no Jeremy Cronin, no Jeff Radebe? Not even Nathi
Mthethwa; his deputy, Fikile Mbalula, was sent in to
bat at the end of the debate -- not so much a
nightwatchman as a tail-ender to the slaughter.
A deputy minister to wrap up the presidential debate?
What was the chief whip, Mathole Motshekga, thinking
of? Has the ANC lost the plot all together?
Zuma's speech was dismal. Dismally written and
dismally communicated. There is little point in
"speaking directly to the nation" at 7pm if, head
down, you are going to read the speech out. Zuma needs
to learn how to use a teleprompter as much as he needs
to hire a decent speechwriter -- someone who can use
plain language (the most, probably the only, appealing
attribute of the speech) -- to full advantage. Plain
should not mean dull or bland; even the simplest prose
can be poetic.
But this is about more than spin.
It is also about substance. With a Zuma, or a Reagan
or a George W Bush type of leader there are two
options: either the lack of grasp of the policy issues
is sufficiently well masked by the command of
language, or it isn't.
Tony Heard's remark to me a few years ago on the
subject of spin-doctoring comes to mind: if there's no
wave, you can't surf. The problem for Zuma is this: if
he fails to communicate well, to provide a sense of
conviction and direction, of clarity of mind and
judgment, then there is very little else left.
The penny is dropping within the ANC hierarchy now.
You could see the thought bubbles last week in the
National Assembly: "How did we end up with him?" You
hear it in the conversations of long-standing ANC
members and activists, who remember the days when the
ANC's grand mission was not only to conquer apartheid,
but also to do so with a compelling sense of
modernity, of non-ethnicity and non-sexism, to set a
new standard as a paragon of decency and dignity that
would surprise the world and win Africa new-found
respect and intellectual status.
Where is that vision now? Tim Modise's expression told
the whole story, during his SABC interview, as Zuma
rambled incoherently. This is not snobbery; it is not
about command of the English language, per se. It is
about a command of the political choices that a
president must make. You may not have liked the cut of
their ideological cloth, but with Reagan and Bush you
knew that they were clear about where they stood and
that behind them they had men and women who knew the
detail and were being given the political backing from
the president to do the job.
With Zuma, I am now far from sure that this is the
case. All may not be lost; he still has a talented
Cabinet and there is far more space for constructive
debate than there was.
But if he can't provide the clarity of political
vision on a range of critical issues -- the energy mix
and the use of macroeconomic levers to protect jobs,
to name but two -- then his ministers will be like
flotsam on the sea.
Moreover, Zuma needs to hold a disintegrating ANC
together. We need a politically cogent and
organisationally cohesive ruling party; the public
interest will not be served by it falling apart. But
is Zuma up to this monumental task?
There is little appetite for another ruthless recall à
la Mbeki or a bloody succession battle, neither,
increasingly, is there a great deal of enthusiasm
within the ANC for much more of Zuma, let alone a
second term. Faced with a lame duck president, some
are already reaching the conclusion: Zuma should go --
and go now
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