Of Cape, coup and country

Submitted by Fran Blandy

It is still a mystery what caused the fire leaving Cape Towns’ glorious centrepiece a giant piece of rather misshapen charcoal, but I suspect greater more noble forces at work.

Self-immolation, considered by Buddhists to be the ultimate form of sacrifice, is the rather violent practice of setting yourself on fire, with suicide in mind.

Maybe this oft-personified mountain wished to lend itself to a mass braai over a cricketing weekend, or perhaps it had merely had enough of leering over this strange little outpost on the bottom of the continent I now call my home.

Either way, the neither divine nor particularly comedic Cape Inferno left us all coughing while pondering the art of sacrifice and the lack there-of as it was brought to our attention that Jacob Zuma – in another fiery reference — may yet rise from the ashes.

The ANC decided not to sacrifice Zuma for the sake of the country, and keep Kgalema Motlanthe as its president to avoid all the awkwardness around prosecuting a future head of state.

The NPA is still denying it, but the possibility now looms that some eight years of hand wringing, wailing and the hope of some more jolly good singing and dancing, might all come to naught as it sacrifices the Big One. The chance to justify their pursuit of Zuma and its immense cost.

If it is true that their evidence just fails to hold up, well they are going to look very silly indeed.

Now that tourists, prolific in this part of the world, might not want to explore Table Mountain, they may spend more time in other attractions such as the Castle of Good Hope.

A torture chamber to be found at the nearly 350-year-old monument is sadly empty with no sight of the torture rack, branding irons or gadget for strapping up prisoners (strappado) mentioned on a plaque outside.

However it does give some insight as to how the accused were treated:

“A prisoner was put the question ‘Are you guilty?’ and then tortured until he admitted his guilt or was released.”

Zuma’s supporters argue this is what has befallen their man, while his detractors feel courts should just stop dithering and strap him to the torture rack.

Either way, the case has caused irreparable damage to South Africa, dividing our citizens, causing the powerful ruling party to be rent in two, bringing doubt on the Constitution, judicial system and morals of a nation.

Nothing has more single-handedly bruised our once proud and shiny new democracy.

For the ANC, it would be a coup to have their man cleared once and for all.

Foreign investors already too preoccupied with real financial crises would heave a sigh of relief for posterity, minorities would turn their boerewors and continue to bemoan the state of the nation, and after all the noise died down we would probably ease into the presidency of an arguably very charming man whose innocence — now proven beyond a doubt in the eyes of his supporters — may have averted an even greater national crisis.

As divided as we all are about Zuma, the one thing that informs dinner party commentary on the topic, whether indirectly or directly, is what is best for South Africa?

To the ANC, the poor, jobless and easily-led, the answer is Zuma as president. For the rest, justice must run its course.

If Zuma, through the NPA, or changes to the Constitution, manages to avoid his day in court, it will indeed be a coup for the ANC, but not necessarily for the country.

This brings to mind an argument about the nature of coups at state level, which can perhaps be applied here.

Does the end justify the means? If the end result of a coup is something which benefits the nation, saves them from an ogre, or poverty and corruption, can the blow to democracy be justified?

As the mountain burned, and Zuma held his thumbs, a small nation just right of Cape Town changed government last week in what has been called an unconstitutional change of guard, but not quite a coup.

Taking charge of Madagascar after a months long power struggle by the army, and the president giving in and resigning after pressure, Andry Rajoelina pledged to lift the poor islanders out of poverty, an attractive offer for those sick of seeing the country’s little wealth being squandered by high-living politicians.

But 100 people were killed, the country was rocked by three months of instability which no doubt will have affected its tourism industry.

The bloodiness of these coups, which have a history peppered by greats such as Julius Caesar to Napoleon Bonaparte, is far from present-day South Africa, but proves the point that in literal terms, there is no such thing as a good coup.

The bottom line, is that the will of the people is properly expressed and that those who govern are held to account.

With Zuma we cannot bridge this gap. If charges are dropped against him it won’t be necessary to bridge this gap, as his presumed innocence will live on and it will be similarly presumed that there is nothing to account for.

Niccolo Machiavelli, in his famous work The Prince, outlines ways in which a leader can acquire or keep hold of power. He argues that actions, whatever they may be, used to protect a country are justified, in achieving a virtuous and stable state.

He also says that: “Anyone who would act up to a perfect standard of goodness in everything must be ruined among so many who are not good. It is essential therefore for a prince to have learnt how to be other than good and to use, or not to use, his goodness as necessity requires.”

So perhaps a slightly tainted Zuma, already hugely popular for being one of the people, will prove even more effective as someone who has faltered, and emerged triumphant.

He certainly does not shy away from speaking out against corruption, in front of any audience, even those who sit thinking “is this guy in complete denial?”

As the wounded, unfairly hunted victim of a conspiracy Zuma may regain the moral high-ground as he preaches on into the next term of government.

If charges are not dropped, and he goes to trial in August, and is eventually found guilty, the costs may be huge. Already his supporters are so fired up over his innocence they are willing to kill for him. What would happen the day they try and ship him off to prison in his orange suit?

The adoring masses have already balked at the thought of a president being hauled before the courts like a common criminal. Balking with a machine-gun may be a little less amusing.

The end is unknown, and the means are still under way, but in either case, as said of Dante as he passed through Purgatory in the real Divine Comedy, where infernos raged in hell and not in the heavenly Cape:

“This man has not yet seen his last evening.”

Blandy is a journalist with a bit of insomnia, a laptop and some thoughts on SA