Breaking Bulk

Listening to varied, even contradictory statements, by ANC officials about why they felt it necessary to recall the president of the republic, Thabo Mbeki, before his term expired next year, one is reminded of the imperative of moral psychology: Feelings come first and tilt the mental playing field on which reasons and arguments compete. In simple terms, this means when one wants to reach a certain conclusion, they can usually find a way to do so.

The Secretary General of the ANC, Gwede Mantashe, admitted in the Morning Live program on Monday that in order to unify the party they had to make the decision, so that all ANC members may start rallying after the current president of the party. It is unfortunate that the president of the ANC himself continues to insult the intelligence of the general public by denying that factionalism exists inside the ANC. The reasoning behind these varied voices within the ANC leadership betrays the fact that the decision to recall Mbeki was an emotional one, done to satisfy vindictive revenge by those whom he crossed lines with during his reign. In truth, from a distance at least, the whole thing appears more like a tragic comedy of errors akin to Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

The lesson Shakespeare wanted to teach in the play Macbeth is the inexorable and inescapable vindictive power of the moral universe, and the folly of revenge. That whatever means you take to achieve your ends will come back to haunt or vindicate you in the end. Former President Mbeki got a stark reminder of that at Polokwane. And now Jacob Zuma, clearly not in control of the party he leads, is starting to realize he might burn by the same fire that ushered him in Polokwane. The mobile vulgus are indisputable in control, and he has no means to turn the tide. There’s a sense of political anarchy, dislocation, disorientation, compulsion, pre-emptive grovelling and manipulative scare mongering he does not know how to deal within the Tripartite Alliance.

It might be, for the ANC membership, that all this is done to (speciously) recover the unity of the party, but from where we’re standing on the ground, it looks like the present administration of the ANC and its echelons are ‘breaking bulk’ (Remember that term from the English revolution of the seventeen century describing when the majority in a ship decide to loot the captured ship, and distribute among themselves the wealth without waiting for proper authority).

Talk about English revolution, ever notice how akin our situation is to them? Remember how the return of the new king, Charles II, spelt that ‘all good men and good things,’—as Samuel Pepys pithily put it—were discouraged. Doesn’t it feel like that in our country now? To top the similarities, Charles II was fond of French dances, which grated the gentlemanly class the wrong way. During the revolution, everything was subject to the caprices of the elite. Heads rolled, rich rewards were reaped; opponents of the previous government were got ridden of; key positions filled with supporters of the king as reward to their good behaviour. The astute changed with times and circumstances; drank and danced to the king’s health on their knees, negotiating their tricky change of coats with finesse. Everyone had to identify for themselves what compromises or betrayals they were prepared to take; policies were no longer pointers for anything. Terminal confusion settled in all things, and the only alliance politicians respected were to their wallets. Meanness and deviousness acquired the Machiavellian streak.

It was no time for those attached to elegance and gentlemanly pursuits. Things acquired a ghoulish streak. Heroes of yesteryear were beheaded, and for six pence you could watch their headless body at Westminster Hall. Political violence returned to the streets, and shops pulled down their shutters. Cynicism and opportunism became the order of the day. The people, simmering in resentment, bewildered and exhausted by never ending political conflict turned their backs to politics, and were the worst losers for it. Of course things didn’t go that far for us, and there signs they are getting better.

In his first national address to the nation President Montlanthe thanked the nation for its resilience and patience, saying it is in times like this our true character shines through. Me thinks the true character of the nation would be revealed during the coming elections next year. For far too long the ANC has taken the support of the South African public for granted. I’ve a feeling things will change, change utterly in the coming elections.
Meanwhile all we can do is to keep silent, watching these powerful and organised lobbies, compete in complete disregard for public sentiments. We continue in the path of justice, peace, human dignity and development in these uncertain times; but time hath my lord, a wallet at his back; our time will be on the ballot box where will opportunity of giving our alliance to the founding and developing truths of our Constitution. That is the only thing that must prevail over political fads; and, perchance, tame the murdering cry and the comedy of errors.

Absolutely Gutted

My Umfriend (friend with benefits) told me Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love, has lot of sex, which is what got me interested and dispelled my suspicion against icky self-enhancement book I suspected it to be, after it was featured in the Oprah Show. Well, sex, there is, but a topsy-turvy kind of sex; the kind that’s supposed to teach you about yourself towards your spiritual and . . . you get my drift.

If you thought it was only guys who go gallivanting, meeting strange people, some of whom they have free sex with—for spiritual and culinary purposes—you are in for a surprise? Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love will help you collide with your prudishness, and give you the creeps, or even crabs, in the process. If, like me, you’re of an idea that feminism liberated women from undesirable trappings of male chauvinism, think again. Or if you thought women can only have sex where there are pretentious emotional connection, I repeat, think again; you are in for a surprise.

The best-selling American trans-global travel narrative, Eat, Pray, Love feels like something written by rutty Ernest Hemingway on spiritual repentance. It is full of adventure and sex, peppered with confetti of spiritual clichés. We guys like to pretend we believe in free, no commitment sex, but actually what we mean about that is we’re okay with Sartrean communal sex, or JZ (Jacob Zuma) seraglio for ourselves, but wince when we read of Simone Beauvoir's polygamous sexual love—I wonder how JZ would feel if one of his wives was to take on an extra husband, provided they can support him that is as the Zulu custom requires.

Eat, Pray, Love is a catalogue of blissful promiscuity, fluent in the argot of "Sex and the City". I don't know how other guys feel, but Sex and the City made me restless whenever I watched it with a woman, which was very telling. Those damned chicks were just too free and independent about everything for my macho liking. When I was with the guys though it was different; we castigated their loose morals with one eye hoping they'd be free with us. I suspect the unvarnished truth is that we prefer that mama dishes her something-something for daddy alone.

I read most of Eat, Pray, Love on commute train between Khayelisha and Cape Town, with a background of cacophony of voices that’s not very conducive to reading and contemplation. If it’s not someone trying to sell you something, its hedge-preachers—comfortable in their contradictions, and insinuative.

Four stops down from where abode the train, at Mandalay, usually comes a lady I flatter myself into thinking she fences me. She’s okay as far as the ID—looks—is concerned, but boy, can she talk? If it’s not some haute couture topic it is something about her good-for-nothing brother ‘whose gonna send my mother into an early grave.’ The worse part she’s started repetiting her, which means she’s run out things to say, but she won’t shuddup.

I can no longer recall what our spurious intimacy is based on. If it were not for the fact that I get on the train first I would do my level best to avoid a coach she’s on like a contagious disease. But for some reason I always see her at the last minute as she’s homing in straight to me. The sight of her face always kicks in razor blade panic and ventral turmoil within me. The funny thing is that she’s a dainty beautiful thing. I’d go for her at no notice had I not had the misfortune of being gutted by her conversations.

I’ve ran out of ideas to avoid here. With petrol still hovering around R10 a litre, looks like I’m going to be stuck with her for a very long time; driving is no longer an option but a luxury. But it has become intolerably exhausting maintaining my permanent smiles as my mind chases after the oblivion over fields of shanty rotting iron and polythene bags of Cape Flats, trying very hard not listening to her. One day she was going on as usual, pattering about this and that. Meantime I wanted to finish the last chapter of Eat, Pray, Love when it hit me. There’s something very similar to both these women. They make for lousy travelling companion. For one they talk too much; are glib and covertly sensationalist. Their personalities turn me off.

Methinks discretion, especially in a lady, is a virtue, which is why, perhaps, I didn’t like Eat, Pray, Love that much. I can see why it would appeal to Oprah fans; it’s one of those two-dimensional books with lots of air and not very much depth. I think T.S. Eliot called such things an art of the surface. It has passionate, hardboiled style of Sex and the city filtered, rather funneled, as clinical aüβerliche kitsch. The book is not really original but has defiant freshness in how it collapses patriarch hypocrisy. Gilbert is an artist of poor discrimination and rude vitality, which, I suppose, explains why her book is successful in our era.

If chance will have me king, why chance may crown me without my stir

I spent last Saturday, like most South Africans, watching the political occurrences of ANC’s recall of the president of the republic with growing forebodings. Whomever asked me for my opinion I pointed to the article I wrote in April here on my blog.
Under normal circumstances I’m averse to quoting my own writings, but these are not normal times:

The lesson Shakespeare wanted to teach in the play Macbeth is the inexorable and inescapable vindictive power of the moral universe [and the folly of revenge]. That whatever means you take to achieve your ends will come back to haunt or vindicate you in the end. Our present [outgoing] president might be a stark reminder of that .
Lady Macbeth, while still convincing her husband to murder the irreprehensible King Duncan, accuses him of wanting to win without dirtying his hands. She says he’s not without ambition, but lacks the “illness should attend it ... that he would not play false, and yet would wrongly win.” Macbeth’s conscience is still healthy then as he replies in a monologue:
I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
And falls on the other. . .

Let’s look at this in the light of our country and times, especially since ruling’s party’s last conference. The greenflies have it that a certain gentleman, who is now the vice president of the ANC has been responsible for the bad karma between their out going president and the present. It is also rumoured that at the first meeting of the ruling party’s newly elected NEC the blood was so heated their president had to be assuaged for more than twenty minutes after walking out of the meeting accusing the delegates of planning to get rid of him through his coming trial.

It turns out also that there are people in the higher echelons of the ruling party who want to win without playing false in the public eye. It’s rumoured that Lady Macbeth occupies the Parliamentary Speaker seat, and that she eggs and fire the passion of the present [ANC] deputy president to overcome his repugnance for the end to justify the means: Thou'dst have, great Glamis, / That which cries "Thus thou must do if thou have it; / And that which rather thou dost fear to do / Than wishest should be undone." Hie thee hither, / That I may pour my spirits in thine ear / And chastise with the valor of my tongue / All that impedes thee from the golden round / Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem / To have thee crowned withal.

Lady Macbeth is here saying Macbeth fears to do what must be done, even though he would not wish it undone, if it were done. I hope our Macbeth has enough sense to quote and stick to the words of sober Macbeth: "If chance will have me king, why chance may crown me without my stir."

It might just seemed like speculation and conjecture then, but now, with what is happening recently in the ANC political circles, that the signs are getting clearer everyday? The deputy president of the ANC, Kgalema Montlanthe, is soon to be the acting president until next year elections. The sublimity of Shakespeare is perennial. The ANC leaders say they’re doing this to recover the unity of the party but you and I know they are ‘breaking bulk’. Remember that term from the English revolution of the seventeen century when the majority in a ship decide to loot and distribute among themselves captured wealth.

Overcoming the grasping self

When our usually jocular Minister of Finance, Trevor Manuel, puts aside entertaining panache and attention-grabbing hype you know all is not well and rosy. He intimidated as much when delivering the 9th Steve Biko Memorial lecture at University of Cape Town. “This lecture takes place at a time when, as a country, we are going through some trying growth pains; together we are searching for inspiration, seeking guidance and yearning for leadership. Our country is undergoing a complex and sometimes painful examination of its foundations, its values and its institutions. It is at times such as this that a nation has to dig deep within itself, take careful observations and focus on repairing its soul.”

Inspiration, aplenty, he found on the writings and works of Steve Biko. The gist of his lecture was the need to give the poor material support to develop their lives. The minister touched the core of our present predicament when he mentioned need to look at people’s responsiveness to democratic empowerment and freedom. He seemed to have rightly come into conclusion that the most important challenges for our government and public institutions are now internal; involving ethics and “values [that] must have at their core, the principles of people-centred development, of freedom, of conscientisation of mobilisation and of high energy democracy.”

There’s duty to foster intelligence as a moral obligation needed to counteract the leadership dearth in the global politics of our era. We need the infusion of public and personal morality in our democratic and aspirations of freedom. Public morality is interlocking value system, practices, institutions, and psychological mechanisms that work together to suppress or regulate selfishness, and make social life possible. I trust we all know what is meant by personal morality, which can be summed in one word; virtue. We need also to re-learn principles that bind us together, not only as groups of certain vested interest, but as humans concerned with human dignity. Supporting essential institutions of democracy is well and good, but we have an added responsibility of being our brother’s keeper, especially the familiar faces of indigence and strife in our own backyards (rural and township areas) we’ve grown numb against.

The problem of development cannot readily be remedied alone by finance and educators, judges, soldiers, policemen, and other professionals that necessarily make for the modern idea of successful society. There are other problems that make for inertia against our development, like inherent attitudes and values, which sometimes often even define communities’ very identity. Hence Biko was more concerned with the ‘psychology and consciousness of the oppressed.’

Commitment to self-reliance in what minister Manuel calls ‘social compact’ must be reemphasized. Not only the ‘oppressed’ need a psychological re-consciousness, but the oppressor too. And this was always Nelson Mandela’s concern, which lately has been relegated aside for another important message of his, that of reconciliation. We need to learn that a majority of people in this country were not simply segregated; they were methodically disenfranchised, stripped of their dignity and identity. Until that has been restored nothing will ever be normal in this country.

Minister Manuel concluded; ‘let me repeat the lesson that Biko taught us. Democracy is something to fight for, constantly. Development is not something handed out at the welfare office. It is a conscious process of building capabilities, giving communities power to change their lives, empowering young women and men to make a contribution to our beautiful country. At the root of Biko’s teachings and the thread that runs through the references from Marx and Unger is the concept of consciousness, the deep understanding of the self worth of people and the power of communities. The poor must be given the power to change their lives . . . An energised democracy is one where each element, business, labour, government and communities balance their rights with their responsibilities. This moment could define our collective future. Let us utilise it for a national catharsis. Let us work together as advised by Unger who writes, “Social solidarity must rest (instead) on the sole secure basis it can have: direct responsibility of people for one another. Such responsibility can be realized through the principle that every able-bodied adult holds a position within a caring economy – the part of the economy in which people care for one another – as well as within the production system.”’

As Allen Tate put it, "the full language of the human situation can be the vehicle of truth." Our recent situation has brought the truth of who we are glaringly before our eyes without screeds of false nostalgia. Who we become yet is still in our power to choose, but not for long. We have not attained the hallmark of Martin Luther King Jr. dreamed, when he hoped a day would come when men and women were judged not by the colour of their skin, but instead by their individual deeds and actions, and the content of their character? There’s still too much baggage in our historical backs to get rid of, but we must take the initiative and reclaim the momentum of the Mandela years, with less superficial notions this time.

We need to face our history square on, albeit in a manner more conversant with the language of human values and respect for the dignity and expressive capacity of the human ¬spirit. We need to understand more fully what it means to be human, and to permit that knowledge to shape and nourish the way we ¬live. To respect each other’s rights; be concerned and work for each other’s welfare. We need to make our democracy and freedom a little more than triumph of commerce and the victory of materialism, which would make us nothing more than what is usually referred to as ‘a nation of shoppers’. In the end what is important as foundation to social institutions are internal values that overcome the lower, grasping, carnal self; i.e. self-control over greed, duty over rights, and loyalty to values of humanity over concerns for outgroups. That’s the message I took from Minister Manuel’s lecture.

The Jacob Zuma Debacle

The JZ (Jacob Zuma) debacle has caused a lot of hurly-burly about fears of the ruling party riding rough-shod over the constitution of the country to save the ANC president from prosecution for corruption charges. It has fostered different views from different people for various reasons. For instance, Hellen Zille—the leader of DA and mayor of Cape Town—in a talk she gave at Wits School of Law in July, was of the opinion that the ANC is divided amongst 'verligtes' (the enlightened, who wants reform) and the 'verkramptes' (who wants to continue the modus operand of Liberation Movement) 'Broedertwis' she said, divides the ranks of the ANC like the old National Party towards the end of its rule.



Madam Zille further conjectured that there were constitutionalists within the ANC who've more in common with the DA than they do with the anti-constitutionalists (read Zuma supporters) in their own party who are power hungry and prepared to do anything to achieve their goals. One understands the bases of the fears for eccentric repeal of the constitution, but to project these concerns as if they were reality is paranoia. The constitution bent twig snaps back in the face of those who use to foster scare mongering tactics. It is rather fresh to hear people who are prepared to change the constitution when it suites their purposes and inclinations, like the case of death penalty, suddenly take the sacrosanct stance towards the constitution. We need to learn, in the words of Barack Obama, not "to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality."



Madam Zille says the ANC, through the revolutionary movement ethos, is failing to achieve the next step of development, which she calls the limitation to its power to promote constitutionalism. This deliberate misuse of facts is worrying. Has the ANC, despite gaining the majority that legally allowed it to change the constitution, elected to exercise that right? I'm not promulgating that majority rule must mean the creation of a one party government with unlimited powers that overrides general laws for a specific purpose of party politics. But a majority rule does mean the ruling party is allowed to design 'outcome-based' laws with specific purposes or remedy in mind when the occasion arises. France and Italy have recently done it to protect their leaders, and we didn't here any large outcry about it.



There's a tendency in this country of projecting the constitution as a sacrosanct tablet revealed to the enlightened few at Mt Sinai, and not the product of reflection by the people for guidance towards the protection of people's freedom. Alexander Hamilton, in his book, the Federalist, set out to explain what the Constitution of 1787 in his country was all about: "To decide the important question, whether societies of men are really capable or not of establishing good government from reflection and choice, or whether they are forever destined to depend for their political constitutions on accident and force." Reflection and choice are the operative words here. The constitution, for it serve meaningful purpose, must serve the needs that promote the stability of the republic.



Indeed, had JZ been a man of sterling integrity and responsibility he who would not have qualms taking the nation into confidence by doing one or two things, rather than this waste of taxpayer's money in protracted legal evasiveness. He could say; 'Yes, I've been involved in some very bad judgements through the influence of my financial advisers. For that I beg your pardon, and ask that the country give me second chance to pay back the debt I owe it.' Then those in government would have to devise means to pardon him in honouring the clear wishes of the majority. Or, if he's convinced of his innocence, he must not make himself available for the presidency of the republic until he clears his name. And now that he has won yet another historic battle in court, are we ready to let him govern?



With the risk of sounding sententious, JZ is a man of serious faults; weakened by moral short-comings and corruption shenanigans due to his indiscriminate associate with shady characters. But the majority within the Tripartite Alliance seem to want him as their president. The rest of us, if we respect majority rule, have no choice but to accept that. Naturally, there'd be those who'd say that would be giving in to political blackmail by JZ cabals. So what? What else is new in politics? We've been blackmailed by the National Party's army generals into establishing means of pardon for the nefarious deeds of the apartheid security forces and we caved in, for the stability of the country. We're blackmailed by different groups for different reasons all the time; if not threatening to take their skills and money outside it's another thing. And we give in, for the sake of the country.



As for what madam Zille wishes that "We have to bring party formations in line with the new reality, the real political divisions of our time. The biggest barrier to this process is the democrats in the ANC who believe their party is redeemable. It is not." No! The biggest barrier is the politics of grovelling within opposition parties, and the attitude of cynical self-involved pessimism of a South African liberal mind. The political realities of this country rest deeply on socio-economic factors. For one, the majority of the constitutionalists within the ANC are social democrats who do not believe in radical liberation of economics without meaningful state regulation. What madam Zille and her cabals do not see is what is about to happen in this country. French historians call it, le passage à l'acte; the moment when a recently free society passes into revolutionary violence. The confluence of negative forces, like post-oppression trauma, poverty and Frantz Fanon's 'motherless rage' are already precipitating it.



Still, no matter how gloomy the situation maybe, it is nothing compared to the mostly torturous, even murderous, complex course other countries, especially in Western history, had to undergo to achieve transformation to proper democratic states. Yes, now is a difficult time of introspection, even disenchantment in our country. Yes, the vulgar element breeds political weariness and disappointment. But I've a feeling this country will gain instead by going through this experience. The ruling party, with all it faults, is facing things head on, which is more than can be said about other parties who think dwelling on ivory towers, waiting for the 'barbarians' to gain insight into the 'enlightened' liberal point of view is the way to go.

The sooner we let Zuma govern the better it be for all of us.

Smoke and Mirrors

I was seated on the couch, trying unique ways and fresh angles to write about Women’s Day we celebrated on the 9th August. I thought of writing about the usual stuff; empowerment of women and all, but decided against it. Something that kept nagging my mind is how we live in real contradiction to our ideals. I mean everybody seem to agree that uxorial husbands are an ideal; equal representation for women is ideal; and responsible, if not doting, parents are ideal. Yet we live the opposite of these things, more like doppelgängers of what’s best in us.

Then I came a picture of a beautiful near-naked female body on a foreign magazine. She wore nothing but a bra, and hid her pelvic area, which I took to imply vagina, with a designer hand bag that she was advertising. Her eyes were cut from the picture. I thought they think of everything, because, surely, to use as a commodity a thing like sex (its not sensuality), you’ve to hide your eyes, from your soul. It was titled; Lesson 84: lead him to temptation. Is that what women’s liberation has amounted to, I found myself asking?

I was lost in such thoughts when my daughter, who’s nine, surprised me with a demand for a long mirror for her room—I must reveal, for proper understanding, that the advert was posed as though it was a mirror image. I was not sure what brought that about but could sense trouble in the offing. What’s wrong with the ones you have, I asked, trying to sound casual. I can’t see whole of myself on them, was her answer as she disappeared to her room again. She left me in confused contemplation. I stood to spy what she was up to and found her sitting in bed, combing Ami (her favourite doll). I turned back with my confusion intensified.

I’ve lived with my daughter since she was nine months old. My sisters, whom we visit frequently, make up for the female influence she needs in her life. I suppose, to be fair, not having long mirrors must be a serious drag for growing girls. On the other side I wondered why didn’t I have long mirrors, dressing table mirrors, and such things one finds on modern homes these days. Do I not like looking at myself? I recalled how uncomfortable I feel when I see my reflection on shop windows when walking city pavements—they make me seem humped. The scientific explanation of refractions and all does not help my archaic sense of self, which, I suppose, is still operating on cave man instinct embodied deep in my genetic code.

The only time I really look at myself on the mirror, since you asked, is when I go to the bathroom at parties or nightclubs, to measure how soused am I. That’s just about it, if shaving does not count. I don’t look at myself when I comb, not that I’m less narcissist than your average, less say GQ guy. It’s a practice forced in me by Catholic boarding school indigent upbringing. I suppose there’s also a bit of delusion of grandeur in supposing physical reflection is not as important as inner self-reflection. I much prefer the ‘know thy self’ and the rest of now unfashionable philhellene heebie-jeebies.

Before the mirror incident, I was sure my daughter was growing along my trends—choosing soccer at school, sleeping with miniature Ferraris next to her dolls—you know, things that make daddy-mom proud. Now it looks like I might have overestimated my influence on her. Now I notice her stopping over cosmetic section and feel, in my guts, trouble approaching. Of course there’s a possibility I’m just blowing the whole thing out of proportion. Somebody please say I’m blowing it out of proportion! Meantime I’m looking for a mirror, preferable with a pink frame; long enough to cover the height of a nine year old until she’s at least eighteen.

For those of you wondering why I’m not married at the good side of forty. Here’s the thing. When I was in Std 6, now Grade 8; we read a book where a guy chopped his wife and two children (who were actually his father’s but was suppose to acknowledge as his according to the Xhosa custom of those times) with an axe. When asked why, he kept saying: Buzani kuBawo! [Ask my father!]. I’ve never really recovered from that tragic story. I feel abused. You can tell Oprah that. I’m prepared to produce on-demand-screen saccharine tears to puff my pillow. I’ll even write a memoir of aggrievement if she promises to feature it on her show.