Tony Leon leaves parliament a bitter man

In his farewell speech this week, Tony Leon stood before parliament and reflected on his tenure in the legislature as leader of the opposition; a tenure that no sane man can proclaim to have been inspiring. His was two decades of disappointment. Under the false pretext of fighting for justice, order and good governance, Leon became an adversary to change that millions of South Africans sought, an impediment to progress and a thorn on the backside of transformation.

Often the nobility of great men does not permit them any measure of bitterness in their fellowship with others. These sages are defined by the magnanimousness of their words and deeds even in the midst of turbulent storms of political enmity and personal hostility. The graciousness with which former president Thabo Mbeki accepted his unceremonious ousting from office was exemplary; nothing flattering can be attributed to Leon’s bitter farewell. His was an abuse of the podium to launch an attack on the former president accusing him of having “sought to revive racial resentment at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives, and who used his unprecedented power to amass ever-greater power”.

Leon has previously spoken of the “sad end and baleful legacy of his (Mbeki’s) presidency” claiming “it would take several Shakespearean tragedies to do justice to the rise and fall of Thabo Mbeki” and even likening him to King Lear, who was arrogant and near his end humble and compassionate. Leon has never made it a secret that he possessed unflattering opinions of the former president. This is more pronounced in what Leon calls “politics of Mbekism”, which he describes as the politics of “racial nationalism, the over-concentration and centralisation of power and the pretensions of a developmental state”. Leon indicates his deep-seated mistrust of this African leader wielding such unprecedented power; a misgiving consistent with the guiding tenets of Afro-pessimism, which seeks to ascribe despotic tendencies to all rulers within the continent.

In 2000, when delivering the Oliver Tambo lecture, Mbeki accurately compared this “white politician” to the Shakespearean character Prospero in The Tempest, who “makes bold to speak openly of his disdain and contempt for African solutions to the challenges that face the peoples of our continent”.

Aime Cesaire’s adaptation of The Tempest explored the relationship between Prospero, the coloniser, and his colonial subjects, Caliban and Ariel. In Cesaire’s radical rewrite, which is set in the Caribbean, Caliban rebels against Prospero’s rule but fails and accuses Prospero of being “the master of illusion. Lying is your trademark”.

Leon said Mbeki “gave intellectual respectability to a fairly antique nationalism, replete with lashings of race and division. He abandoned the legacy of reconciliation bequeathed by Nelson Mandela and put in its place the paraphernalia of transformation in which was embedded both corruption and cronyism”.

Mbeki’s cardinal sin was to expose the truth that Leon and his ilk had buried their heads in the sand against. Mbeki had offended the white establishment in 1998 when he opened the debate in the National Assembly on “reconciliation and nation building” when he spoke unapologetically of South Africa as a country of two nations — one that is white and relatively prosperous and the other black and poor. Defenders of white privilege, led by Leon, were relentless in reprimanding Mbeki of sowing the seed of racial division and betraying the reconciliatory approach of Mandela. The truth is a bitter pill to swallow.

Regardless of Leon’s determination to deceive us about Mbeki’s legacy, we remain confident in the knowledge that Mbeki’s and many other people’s commitment to non-racialism, to ending the relationship of dominant and dominated and achieving equality among all South Africans is unwavering. At the opening session of the National Conference on Racism in 2000 Mbeki said: “The point is also made that our process of national reconciliation has been somewhat of a charade. In this regard, it is said that only the victims of racism have responded to the call to forgive and to let bygones be bygones. The charge is made that the perpetrators and beneficiaries of racial oppression and exploitation have acted merely to defend their interests, refusing to extend their own hand towards the victim, in a true spirit of reconciliation.”

Nothing in Leon’s belligerent tenure in the legislature as leader of the opposition can be said to have promoted this true spirit of reconciliation. His Democratic Alliance had remained a polarising feature in our political landscape together with other race-based political parties such as the Freedom Front Plus by consistently defending unjust privileges and condemning noble endeavours to redress the “historical injustices” that Mbeki spoke of at a seminar in 1978 in Ottawa, Canada.

Ismael Vadi, a member of parliament in 2004, said: “The Honourable Leon’s politics is potently destructive. It is patently divisive and it is designed to leave South Africans demobilised and disunited. That is why he will go down in our history not as a nation-builder but as one who has polarised our society.”

None of us can contest that assertion.

Pixley ka Seme in 1906 said: “I am an African and I set my pride in my race over against a hostile public opinion”.

Leon’s departure from the legislature leaves no void and South Africa is no poorer without his contribution. He leaves parliament a bitter and defeated man. South Africans, black and white, who love their country and are committed to unity and prosperity remain resolute in their charge to realise these ideals in their lifetime.

Mr Leon, “tell no lies, claim no easy victories!”