In a 1749 book, The Theory of Moral Sentiments, that continues to influence serious minds, the great Adam Smith said: “They are the most frivolous and superficial of mankind only those who can be much delighted with that praise which they themselves know to be altogether unmerited.”
For those who live in South Africa today, how courageous are we to tell the truth that exposes the ugly side of our public affairs? Or, are we content to remain silent as our politicians continue to hear that praise which they know to be unmerited?
In an open society, such as the one we claim to live in, citizens ought not to wait for February when some leader delivers what he and his mind elect to project as the state of our nation.
It cannot be that our collective life as a people is reduced to that which is reflected in the mind of an allegedly intelligent, single person. The appraisal of the health or ill-health of nations ought to be an on-going responsibility of an engaged and spirited citizenry. Those who disagree with this sublime idea must be counted rightly among tyrants.
What, then, does the open eye of an honest biographer see when staring at President Jacob Zuma? Three qualities present themselves: a fading dignity, instability in government and an image of corruption.
Before he was installed as president, the image of Zuma evolved from a fairly obscure leader of the ANC who was catapulted to greater heights due to the role he played in KwaZulu-Natal peace talks.
As deputy president of the ANC, only those with a really good memory will remember a single important idea ever broached by Zuma in the party. This does not mean that he did not attend ceremonies, meetings or banquets.
Time has now presented concrete evidence that Thabo Mbeki was wrong in appointing the-then deputy president Zuma to be the champion of South Africa’s moral regeneration. In all honesty, Zuma was a pleasure-loving deputy president.
Ironically, Zuma’s image was rescued by Mbeki when he dismissed him from his administration under a dark cloud of corruption. Propelled by a powerful wave of expectant factions, Zuma the insignificant thus became Zuma the heroic victim.
Indeed, Zuma danced and sang all the way to Polokwane in 2007. Sexy musicians who are fortunate to have a flexible waist also grabbed the rare opportunity to get down on stage with a president-in-waiting.
As Zuma was busy performing, crowds were worked up against intellectuals, especially those with the audacity to tell the truth. A mob psychology fell upon many in our country like the biblical demons that madly drove pigs into the sea.
Anxious to present himself as different from Mbeki, Zuma allowed some twisted minds in his inner kitchen to advise him to introduce new portfolios into cabinet.
Even as South Africa was in the eye of a global economic storm, the new president did not hesitate to pour more money into more ministries.
Those who suggested this was a waste of money were treated like howling dogs that disturb the tranquility of sleepers at night. Such words as “monitoring”, “evaluation”, “planning”, and “jobs” became fashionable.
It has now become evident that these words are as hollow as the Ministry of Women, Children and People with Disability has become laughable. Incoherence in government is as rife as the disgruntlement of many civil servants is the order of the day.
A president is to a nation what a father is to a family. A family that is headed by a well-known drunk cannot escape the disgrace of its head. And so is a nation headed by someone without dignity.
As image managers were working hard to repackage Zuma from a dancer to a president, he fathered a child out of wedlock. Indeed, warnings continue to circulate that those who have daughters should not invite their male friends into their homes; else a friend can transform himself easily into a son-in-law.
As the nation was recovering from the disgrace of our father, Zuma made key appointments that left observers wondering if he cared about the dignity of government. Our new chief justice is perhaps an important signal that the president would prefer the judiciary to be populated by people like him.
In the beginning, Zuma embarked on a roadshow, meeting all manner of interest groups and telling them exactly what they wanted to hear. For a brief period, the president was a friend of all, except those who cannot easily be duped. A mischievous fellow at a meeting with Jews even asked if Zuma would accept if offered a Jewish wife – and the president giggled.
When it became clear that Zuma’s charming promises were contradictory, he disappeared from the public – he was only spotted at music festivals, or at such frivolous functions.
Facebook junkies even ran some silly competitions: “Find a Jacob, and win a price”.
It increasingly felt like South Africa was without a president.
If you saw him on SABC, it would be a choreographed episode where he was trying very hard to sound serious.
One such interview was when he was asked by a deferring journalist why South Africa needed a national plan. Zuma answered: “We need a plan that says this is the plan.”
Truth be told, Zuma’s administration is the most unstable since 1994. How many directors general has he changed since becoming president? So unstable has Zuma’s government been that senior officials in his government exchanged insulting open letters in public with ministers.
Zuma changes spokesmen as if there is no tomorrow. While we were still getting used to the first, fairly talented young man, we were introduced to a known young hollow tin that was quickly replaced with a recycled and tired old man.
At the political level, Zuma reshuffled his cabinet only two years into office.
While his spin doctors battled to make us believe that it was a sign of a president who is serious about performance, only Karl Marx knows what ministers like Blade Nzimande have delivered since they were appointed.
In Zuma’s government, a “non-performing” minister or official is never fired, but promoted. They either become his advisors in Parliament or they are sent to represent us as our ambassadors abroad.
If a minister is sick and has a cloud of unbelievable corruption hanging over his head, some questionable version of “African” morality is used to justify why taxpayers should continue paying a salary to such a minister.
An image is now cemented in the public mind that the government is corrupt.
This, again, goes back to the image of the president himself – as someone who was never cleared of corruption in a court of law. Thus people are not surprised when he does not act when there are allegations of corruption.
Allegations of corruption involving members of his family have not assisted our beloved president.
As we were about to believe that Schabir Shaik was terminally ill and fast approaching death, we woke up to yet more allegations involving the Guptas.
If a survey were to be conducted “Who do you trust between Jacob Zuma and the Public Protector?” Thuli Madonsela might appear like an angel, and Zuma may not be permitted to enter heaven, where he believes ANC ancestors to be resting. Bheki Cele and Gwen Mahlangu-Nkabinde have become ghosts that haunt the soul of Zuma’s government.
How far, then, have we come since 1994?
We moved from a people inspired by Nelson Mandela to build a rainbow nation.
We then entered a period of cerebral enthusiasm under Mbeki, and landed in a country of confusion under Zuma. Nobody knows whether we are coming or going. Maybe it will be clearer after December 2012.
Anyone who finds this assessment unfair should pose the question: if Jacob Zuma were a standard of leadership, would you like to live in a country led by a president worse than Zuma?
If Jacob Zuma were a trophy, would you hoist him to the rest of the world and say “Here is our best as South Africans”?
Such is the story of Jacob Gedleyihlekisa Zuma, the popular dancer and 100 percent Zulu Boy, who rose from nothing to become our country’s No 1. It is a story that reveals a nation’s troubled mind, and a people whose pride has been dented.
How it will all end, only God knows.
Hopefully, none will react to all this in a way that reminds us of what Adam Smith wrote 262 years ago.
n Mashele lectures politics at the University of Pretoria and is a member of the Midrand Group. He is the author of The death of our society (available at Exclusive Books).