of corruption. Surprisingly, despite the fact that South Africa is a protest-ridden society, there has been no visible protest against the apparent and actual transgressions by public officials. However, there have been murmurs, as when Vavi, general secretary of COSATU, declared that the trade union movement could not sit by and exercise restraint simply because the country was going through an economic recession while members of cabinet were buying expensive vehicles using the public purse. In August 2010, Vavi questioned the self-enrichment by the political elite and coined the term, “predatory state”.17
Despite the strong stand taken by COSATU, the strikes are about wages and conditions of service and not about the profligacy of public officials. Could the complacency that has characterised the public response thus far be interpreted as tacit approval, an acceptance by the general public that such actions are expected and therefore condonable? Public officials have responded rather amusingly to criticism, citing government polices and the rule books in their defence. It reminds me of Eddie Murphy’s movie Coming to America in which the queen of Zamunda confronts her husband over an ancient custom. In sympathy with the prince who is in love with an American commoner but is prevented from marrying her because of the law in Zamunda, the queen declares, “He loves her”. The king responds, “It is the law. Who will change the law?” to which the queen retorts, “I thought you were the king.” In our case, if the parliament of a democratic state cannot change inequitable policies and obsolete rule books, who will?
Finally, how have the three roots of public morality cited above conspired to construct the new public moral order in South Africa? The first explanation is premised on a breakdown in the ethical continuum when the logic of both Christianity and ubuntu was replaced by a secular morality of politics and power. The culture of entitlement generated in the first place by colonialism and then by apartheid, where political elites instantly became economic elites, gave rise to a culture of self-enrichment. Politics and power became synonymous and these were demonstrated in the lavish lifestyles of those who had access to them. State power became a gateway to economic and material wellbeing. Hated as the apartheid elites were by the general public, they were envied for their material possessions and soon became material although not political role models. They presided in local functions and in most cases by invitation from the very public that detested them for their collaborationist stance. Accusations of impropriety did not work as apartheid political elites were devious operators. They suppressed opposition including enquiries into their misconduct. After all, they were in control and enjoyed the protection of the state apparatus. Apartheid did not mind the moral reputation of its collaborators as long as they could control the masses.
The breakdown in the ethical continuum was not limited to apartheid’s machinations. Forces in the liberation movement were themselves disparate, thus encouraging a form of distorted liberation ethics tempered with lawlessness and disorder particularly emanating from the incoherent lost generation. There was another subtle factor that could easily be distorted. Liberation itself sought a state of social and material wellbeing. The movement away from a negotiated settlement to the armed struggle entailed dislodging the oppressors. In war, the end justifies the means. Since the liberation forces were thus united by an ideology of moral consequentialism where, especially in the 1980s, the ultimate prize was liberation irrespective of the means, a form of licentious tolerance developed where moral transgressions were overlooked as long as they contributed to the ultimate objective. This was “ungovernability” in operation. At an organisational level a strong sense of solidarity among the forces of resistance developed, but given their disparity, a coherent discipline did not develop. Discipline and ideological coherence were ‘comforts’ or a convenience that the internal liberation movement could sacrifice on the altar of unity and solidarity in struggle. “An injury to one is an injury to all” – so went the slogan. The issue of solidarity was not limited to the internal forces of liberation. Externally, liberation movements were forced by the existential conditions of exile to develop a strong sense of solidarity, otherwise they would perish. The first response to any perceived threat was, therefore, a reflex defensiveness culminating in the closing of ranks. Under such circumstances, moral considerations tended to take a back seat. The result was an absence of an ideological moral cohesion on the part of the liberation movement as a collective. This was exacerbated by the movement’s accommodation of the political elites on its unbanning and their return from exile. Public morality thus comprised a strange hybrid dictated by pragmatism and the politics of survival. The broad church concept was at play.
The second explanation is based on the nature of politics itself. It is almost axiomatic that politics is an exercise in entitlement morality where various sections vie for hegemony in the allocation of finite resources. The public behaviour demonstrated in this process is of course a different issue and concepts such as moderation and excess become expressive of the political culture. Thomas Hobbes articulated entitlement morality aptly in his Leviathan. According to Hobbes, man was by nature selfish and rapacious and had to be restrained from this tendency by an absolute ruler, the Leviathan, otherwise there would be a bellum omnes contra omnes, a war of everybody against everybody. States, including democracies, have incidentally accepted the Hobbesian philosophy and have proceeded to institute risk prevention mechanisms through systems of accountability. The question is: are these systems effective in South Africa?
The answer is that constitutionally and legally they are, but in practice they have so far left much to be desired. On the positive, there is the Auditor General who audits public systems including transactions and procedures, and there are courts of law that deal with legal infringements. Theoretically, and in a number of practical cases, Parliament has oversight over the activities of cabinet and state departments. There are the state’s investigative forces to bring offenders to justice, and procedural justice upholds principles of fairness including the dictum of Audi alterem partum – hear the other party. Further, there are Chapter Nine institutions such as the Public Protector, the Commission for Human Rights and others to deal with cases falling outside legal jurisdiction.
There are negatives as well and it is to these that we wish to direct attention, or our democracy suffers. The role of Parliament in exercising its oversight is increasingly being questioned. Regarding the operation of the rule of law and the effectiveness of Chapter Nine institutions as complementary structures, practically it takes an official source to give a directive for the investigation to commence. But between this stage and the investigation itself, much happens. In the following chapter it will be evident that this is a problematic area given the experiences in Oilgate and the Parliamentary episodes to name just a few. It took eight years between the Strategic Defence Procurement Programme (The Arms Deal) and the call for a Commission of Inquiry into the apparently messy process. The government has alternately been silent on the issue or has categorically indicated its unwillingness to engage in the process. This is an issue of public accountability which is aggravated by the existence of a numerically weak opposition and a system of proportionate representation where the party list system places party dissenters at a disadvantage vis a vis the party that placed them there in the first place. Further, the opposition itself suffers from its own moral weaknesses including the residual culture of entitlement, a remnant from apartheid as the second root in the construction of political morality. The public is thus dismissive of the calls for accountability especially from the Democratic Alliance and other opposition parties that conveniently vote with the ruling party when recommendations for a huge hike in the salaries and allowances of members of parliament come before the house, but cry foul when officials in the ruling party transgress the expected norms.
The collusion by political parties in parliament, including significant opposition parties, over the recommended increase in the salary packages of parliamentarians was a clear demonstration of a political morality of entitlement and of the distance between public representatives and the electorate. The unity over pay packages for parliamentarians was contrasted by glaring politicking when the opposition castigated government when doctors and paramedical personnel went on a national strike because their remuneration packages were relatively low by national norms. I use the term relative because in market conditions the cost of living is primarily a function of supply and demand. Raising remuneration packages in one sector, for instance among parliamentarians, raises consumption
