ANC devil's deal places political survival above moral purity

Share current article via Email Share current article via Facebook Share current article via Twitter Share current article via LinkedIn President Cyril Ramaphosa has become a source of much that is gnawing away at the ANC's public standing, says the writer. It is an interesting paradox that, though the Phala Phala scandal hogs the headlines and costs the ANC whatever remains of its credibility, President Cyril Ramaphosa appears to remain the most credible and appealing of the current crop of ANC leaders. Others would contend that Ramaphosa — a putative messiah brought in to restore credibility to the ANC and the government after years of state capture — has himself become a source of much that is gnawing away at the party's public standing. While Ramaphosa was campaigning ahead of the local government elections in Ekurhuleni, Gauteng, on Friday, a bevy of silver-tongued lawyers tried to convince Western Cape high court judges that parliament should not be allowed to go ahead with an inquiry into the Phala Phala saga. 'Keep a lid on it' seemed to be the gist of their submissions. In Gauteng, there he was, in the rain, being the ANC's ultimate electoral lifeline, while in the Western Cape rolling television and other news coverage revealed him as a lightning rod for party-imperilling controversy. The galling duality was inescapable this week. And the more he tries to stop opposition politicians from using parliament to air his dirty laundry, the more they use the courts to keep this shameful scandal top of mind ahead of the elections. It's a lose-lose situation, it seems. Even when opposition parties fight among themselves about whether the chair of the impeachment committee, Makashule Gana, should be removed from his position, the ANC still finds itself spattered in the blood from the battle. The burning question is in whose interests the political fallout from this saga is being contained. Were state funds being illegally used to mount an under-the-table clandestine operation? In court, where Ramaphosa is arguing that a report that found there was a prima facie impeachment case for him to answer is legally flawed, the mud being flung around invariably lands on him. Then questions are inevitably asked about why the messiah — he who is meant to restore credibility — seems to want to run away from a public and transparent process that, if he is indeed innocent, will publicly restore his credibility. Dali Mpofu SC, for the MK Party, nailed it when he said in court this week: 'Where did the [Phala Phala] dollars come from? Who sent [presidential protection head] Wally Rhoode to Namibia [in search of the thieves], to no-man's-land? Who tortured those workers [who stole the money]? What happened to Gen [Sindile] Mfazi [from whose house Phala Phala police files were stolen]? Who poisoned him? What happened to … [Sudanese businessman] Mr Hazim [Mustafa], who arrived here on Christmas Day carrying dollars, knowing how many buffaloes he needed and how much they cost? Those buffaloes are still at Phala Phala now, six years later. It's 2026 now. They were bought in 2019 on Christmas Day. Is there a case [for Ramaphosa] to answer? Of course! Is the president guilty? I don't know.' Mpofu is, of course, right. He may not be everyone's cup of tea, but isn't he expressing a view we must all wrestle with? What he didn't say is that former spy chief Arthur Fraser said the dollars amounted to $4m, whereas Ramaphosa said they came to $580,000. Wouldn't the impeachment committee be able to lay this discrepancy to rest? Why is Ramaphosa resisting a process intended to clarify what happened? While Mpofu glibly asks about the shocking killing of Mfazi, he doesn't say Mfazi's Phala Phala investigation was focused on allegations that police crime intelligence funds and state resources were unlawfully diverted to run an off-the-books covert operation to track down those who stole from Ramaphosa and contain the political fallout. The burning question is in whose interests the political fallout from this saga is being contained. Were state funds being illegally used to mount an under-the-table clandestine operation? And why was Ramaphosa's shadowy special adviser at that time, Bejani Chauke, central to what appears to be a project to bury the scandal? It seems plain that the plan was all for the president's benefit. But wouldn't a parliamentary impeachment process clarify the facts? Why is the president resisting it? Was Mfazi killed to protect those he was investigating, who were themselves committing offences in a bid to protect Ramaphosa's name? This is a question that must continue to haunt all of us, including the current SAPS generals, until it is answered. This whole affair is very dark and scary. It presents us with a picture of people with power who are at heart criminals willing to kill an unarmed police general simply for doing his work Would they too be killed if they dared investigate the wrong people — those who are politically connected? Would it not be an honour befitting their fallen general if they did their utmost to establish who killed Mfazi and why? Namibian Immanuela David, the alleged mastermind of the Phala Phala heist, was shot twice by men posing as police officers who were trying to steal his portion of the Phala Phala cash. Thankfully, he survived. If there is any credible information about Mfazi's killing and the attempt on David's life, why should it not be put before parliament? Why would Ramaphosa want to resist this happening? This whole affair is very dark and scary. It presents us with a picture of people with power who are at heart criminals willing to kill an unarmed police general simply for doing his work. The questions about the sorry saga that is Phala Phala are many, and thankfully they don't seem to go away without answers. The more Ramaphosa tries not to appear before an impeachment committee, the more suspicious he looks. The pungent smell becomes even more overpowering with each court case and appeal hearing. The whole sordid saga is slowly poisoning the president's name, and yet he seems bizarrely content not to subject himself to a public probe to restore his reputation. In the end, though, Ramaphosa is still the ANC's best option, Phala Phala notwithstanding. Broadly speaking, he is an important buffer preventing the ANC from haemorrhaging support. Apart from the market having confidence in him, Ramaphosa is retained because the ANC's current top leadership structure is bereft of leaders with crossover appeal. The less said about Paul Mashatile, the ANC's deputy president, and Fikile Mbalula, its secretary-general, the better for the erstwhile proud liberation movement. While the ANC continues to derive whatever benefit it can from Ramaphosa's fading aura of respectability, it seems to have embraced the Machiavellian thinking that political survival and state stability trump absolute moral purity. Mpofu is right that there is so much Ramaphosa needs to clarify. To ask him to do so is not to pronounce him guilty.