Prison knocks at Selebi's door

After a marathon trial, after suspicious political inventions and interventions, after the commendable investigative and prosecutorial work of members of the now disbanded special unit known as Scorpions, prison beckons for former South African police commissioner and former head of Interpol, Sello Jacob Selebi, known simply as Jackie Selebi. For some it’s hallelujah. For others it is déjà vu. And yet for others it is déjà fait. Most will agree that this is a moment of sadness and of profound national introspection.

Selebi is in serious danger of joining fellow struggle heroes who have “done time” since the end of apartheid — notably Yengeni, Boesak and would you say Schabir Shaik is a struggle hero? Details and degrees notwithstanding, corruption is the common thread in this post-struggle saga of shame and disgrace. We still have currently ongoing, the mind-boggling Brett Kebble murder trial which makes you wonder if South Africa is not a horror movie – from which we escape from time to time to go to work.

The singing crowds that accompanied Yengeni to the gates of prison are nowhere to be seen. Nor are the kinds of intellectual voices that sought to demonstrate the “opportunism” of the case against Shaik to be heard and read anywhere now. One by one Selebi’s former comrades have stood up to commend the judge and condemn their former comrade. The camaraderie of yesteryear and powerful political connections have all but dissipated into thin air. The crowds of supporters that sung and protested in previous similar cases are not to be found by Selebi’s side.

Granted, a few old comrades — the most senior of whom was former foreign affairs minister Pahad — offered some rather lazy and lame character testimonials in favour of Selebi. Character was the very thing found both wanting and missing in Selebi.

Following the sentence, both Interpol and the African National Congress have effectively distanced themselves from Selebi. At this time, Selebi can honestly trust and rely on the authenticity of support and genuine loyalty of only his immediate family members. In all his decorated life of struggle, and for all his celebrated credentials, Selebi has probably never been more alone and more isolated. Indeed, some of his erstwhile comrades could hardly suppress their sense of glee — with some clearly trying to rebuild their own floundering credentials off the heap of disgrace on which Selebi now sits. Ironically, even those who campaigned long and hard for the death of the Scorpions, celebrated the finest of the achievements of the short-lived Scorpions.

As prison knocks at the door of Selebi, it is not, as many have already pointed out, a foregone conclusion, that prison will absorb Selebi. To escape prison, two legal hurdles remain in Selebi’s path. He must first make a persuasive suggestion that another court could produce a different verdict. This is the shorter and easier of the two hurdles. Judges tend to dislike appearing as if they think their own judgments are infallible. It is possible (not guaranteed) that Selebi may be granted leave to appeal.

Much more daunting for Selebi and his team will be the task of persuading the supreme court of appeal to reach a different verdict from the current one — a feat that eluded the resourceful Schabir Shaik. Some judges might remember this. Of course no one can and should prejudge that outcome. Neither those who have drunk from bitter cup of vengeance nor those blinded by the seductive notion of “struggle credentials” should prejudge the outcome.

As this former president of the ANC Youth league stands at the gates of prison, he may also be pondering the meaning of this moment and the lessons it carries. Current and former presidents of the ANCYL and other leagues may be well advised to join him in his moment of meditation. Selebi stands before the gates of prison as one once charged with the task of ridding us of crime and catching criminals. Today he stands as one convicted of working with and for criminals. The precise amount of money apparently proven to have been paid by Glenn Agliotti to Selebi — himself a convicted fraudster — is about R166k. There must be more payments in cash and in kind not accounted for. But is R166k worth a lifelong career in the struggle for justice and democracy? How much money is enough to buy integrity and reputation? What lessons for Selebi, his like and the rest of us in all this? Selebi is us and we are Selebi. He presents, re-presents and mis-presents us all at once. He is a product of our history, our time, our world, our place and our country. Together with Selebi’s former comrades, we probably have as much to learn from this saga. Six further lessons come to mind.

1. In and of themselves “struggle credentials” will neither constitute protection from legal processes nor impunity for wrongdoing. Not in the court of public opinion and certainly not in the courts of law. Not anymore and certainly not forever.

2. The shifting sands of political connectedness are fickle foundations on which to build a career — especially a career in public service.

3. Political connections and thinly veiled nepotistic employment practices in both the public and private sector may help one land the big job, but these, in and of themselves, are not always sufficient either to keep one in the job or to shield one from taken to task for being found sleeping on the job.

4. South Africans take occupants of public office most seriously — perhaps more seriously than some public servants realise. This is the reason 80% of South African voters participated in the last elections. This is why they engage in service delivery protests so often and enthusiastically. This is why they are (by and large) not protesting over the Selebi sentence.

5. Unlike our biological families, political families are more willing and much quicker to sacrifice those who disobey and deviate from “family” rules and aspirations. If you do not believe me, ask Mbeki and Zuma. The latter might also give you tips on how to bounce back.

6. When in (a position of) power, think of it neither as a “time to eat” nor a time to throw one’s weight around, think of it rather as a temporary, precious and privileged opportunity to serve and do no less than serve.