IN 2003, John Githongo , Kenya’s corruption buster, summoned up the courage to advise President Mwai Kibaki of the most important weapon to fight corruption.
By then, the Kenyan state had become synonymous with corruption.
Taxpayers’ money was being looted with brazenness by whatever tribe had access to state coffers using political power.
Corruption was the politicians’ favourite sport, eclipsing athletics, for which the Kenyans are well-renowned.
Kibaki had just ascended to office, dubbed the Moses who would free the nation from the clutches of corruption.
He appointed Githongo to lead the fight against corruption. Githongo advised that, since corruption started at the top, it could only effectively be fought from the top.
“Sir,” he told the president, “we can set up all the anti-corruption authorities we want, spend all the money we want, pass all the laws on anti-corruption, but it all depends on you.
“If people believe the president is ‘eating’, the battle is lost. If you are steady on this thing, if the leadership is there, we will succeed.”
Recorded by Michela Wrong in her majestic book, It’s Our Turn to Eat, Githongo’s wise words are no different from those of public protector Thuli Madonsela in a letter to our president.
In her letter to Jacob Zuma last week, Madonsela expressed her frustration at the president’s failure to provide a meaningful response to her report on Nkandla, Secure in Comfort.
Madonsela said Zuma’s conduct and his disregard of her report, including the need to pay back a portion of the Nkandla loot, “may also encourage impunity at all levels of the state”.
This reasoning makes perfect sense.
Zuma’s office, his personal conduct and deployment of his powers set the tone for the entire state.
The president has two types of power. The first type of power is one explicitly given to him by the constitution.
It includes, among other things, appointment of cabinet members and heads of other organs of state and presiding over the day-to-day business of government.
The constitution also prescribes limits within which such powers are exercised.
It states: “The Republic of South Africa is one sovereign democratic state founded on the supremacy of the constitution and the rule of law.” This provision elevates the rule of law above the wishes of individuals, political parties and security cluster of ministers.
But there are obligations too. In Chapter 5, the constitution says the president must “defend, uphold and respect the constitution”.
In other words, the rule of law matters more than the short-sightedness of politicians when they are unhappy about remedial actions of the public protector or courts.
Zuma is very happy to exercise powers granted to him, but he seems perturbed by the obligations.
The second type is the power of example. It is not so explicit in law. But it is implied. The ANC and its allies often turn a blind eye to it, although it is contained in some of the discussion documents of the ANC. For example, the governing party’s document Strategy and Tactics adopted in Polokwane, where Zuma was first elected party president, says wherever they are, ANC members must conduct themselves in an exemplary manner.
It’s the kind of power that Githongo was talking about when he spoke to his president, not knowing that Kibaki – followed by all levels of state – would one day lead the race to the state coffers.
Such is the power of example. This is the kind of power many South Africans understand. They need not read complicated legislation to appreciate its meaning.
Like other societies, ours is obsessed with hierarchy. Those at the top are idolised. They are regarded as possessing powers to solve problems.
Whatever they do or don’t do sets the tone for the rest.
Whatever Zuma does – allowing looting on his doorstep, giving the public protector the run-around and dodging accountability – will more than likely be copied at all levels of state.
He has on occasions applauded the existence of independent state institutions and acknowledged their importance. But he does it for the audience. Not himself.
He often waxes lyrical about proclamations he has signed authorising the Special Investigating Unit to probe corruption in the public sector.
A spokesman recently said Zuma had signed a larger number of such proclamations than former presidents Nelson Mandela and Thabo Mbeki.
As if this was an indication of his commitment to fighting corruption.
The biggest and most visible commitment he has shown so far was to oversee the construction of the Nkandla compound under circumstances that ensured the looting of public money.
To support the founding provisions of the constitution and to be seen to be doing so, Zuma must clearly instil belief in the rule of law and the supremacy of the constitution.
His personal conduct must reflect willingness to uphold the law. The president shouldn’t be dragged kicking and screaming by the public protector to implement that which he is obliged by law and the constitution to implement.
Imagine what would result if the more than a million civil servants (roughly half the population of Namibia) were to do the same and give the public protector the middle finger whenever they were probed.
South Africa has the best constitution, the best anti-corruption laws, the best public protector, the best auditor-general, best judiciary and so on.
But there is a danger that all these instruments could become useless in the fight against corruption because citizens believe Zuma is “eating” and his party serves as a napkin to wipe his mouth.
Mpumelelo Mkhabela is the editor of Sowetan
Zuma can use ‘power of example’ for a better SA
By then, the Kenyan state had become synonymous with corruption.
Taxpayers’ money was being looted with brazenness by whatever tribe had access to state coffers using political power.
Corruption was the politicians’ favourite sport, eclipsing athletics, for which the Kenyans are well-renowned.
Kibaki had just ascended to office, dubbed the Moses who would free the nation from the clutches of corruption.
He appointed Githongo to lead the fight against corruption. Githongo advised that, since corruption started at the top, it could only effectively be fought from the top.
“Sir,” he told the president, “we can set up all the anti-corruption authorities we want, spend all the money we want, pass all the laws on anti-corruption, but it all depends on you.
“If people believe the president is ‘eating’, the battle is lost. If you are steady on this thing, if the leadership is there, we will succeed.”
Recorded by Michela Wrong in her majestic book, It’s Our Turn to Eat, Githongo’s wise words are no different from those of public protector Thuli Madonsela in a letter to our president.
In her letter to Jacob Zuma last week, Madonsela expressed her frustration at the president’s failure to provide a meaningful response to her report on Nkandla, Secure in Comfort.
Madonsela said Zuma’s conduct and his disregard of her report, including the need to pay back a portion of the Nkandla loot, “may also encourage impunity at all levels of the state”.
This reasoning makes perfect sense.
Zuma’s office, his personal conduct and deployment of his powers set the tone for the entire state.
The president has two types of power. The first type of power is one explicitly given to him by the constitution.
It includes, among other things, appointment of cabinet members and heads of other organs of state and presiding over the day-to-day business of government.
The constitution also prescribes limits within which such powers are exercised.
It states: “The Republic of South Africa is one sovereign democratic state founded on the supremacy of the constitution and the rule of law.” This provision elevates the rule of law above the wishes of individuals, political parties and security cluster of ministers.
But there are obligations too. In Chapter 5, the constitution says the president must “defend, uphold and respect the constitution”.
In other words, the rule of law matters more than the short-sightedness of politicians when they are unhappy about remedial actions of the public protector or courts.
Zuma is very happy to exercise powers granted to him, but he seems perturbed by the obligations.
The second type is the power of example. It is not so explicit in law. But it is implied. The ANC and its allies often turn a blind eye to it, although it is contained in some of the discussion documents of the ANC. For example, the governing party’s document Strategy and Tactics adopted in Polokwane, where Zuma was first elected party president, says wherever they are, ANC members must conduct themselves in an exemplary manner.
It’s the kind of power that Githongo was talking about when he spoke to his president, not knowing that Kibaki – followed by all levels of state – would one day lead the race to the state coffers.
Such is the power of example. This is the kind of power many South Africans understand. They need not read complicated legislation to appreciate its meaning.
Like other societies, ours is obsessed with hierarchy. Those at the top are idolised. They are regarded as possessing powers to solve problems.
Whatever they do or don’t do sets the tone for the rest.
Whatever Zuma does – allowing looting on his doorstep, giving the public protector the run-around and dodging accountability – will more than likely be copied at all levels of state.
He has on occasions applauded the existence of independent state institutions and acknowledged their importance. But he does it for the audience. Not himself.
He often waxes lyrical about proclamations he has signed authorising the Special Investigating Unit to probe corruption in the public sector.
A spokesman recently said Zuma had signed a larger number of such proclamations than former presidents Nelson Mandela and Thabo Mbeki.
As if this was an indication of his commitment to fighting corruption.
The biggest and most visible commitment he has shown so far was to oversee the construction of the Nkandla compound under circumstances that ensured the looting of public money.
To support the founding provisions of the constitution and to be seen to be doing so, Zuma must clearly instil belief in the rule of law and the supremacy of the constitution.
His personal conduct must reflect willingness to uphold the law. The president shouldn’t be dragged kicking and screaming by the public protector to implement that which he is obliged by law and the constitution to implement.
Imagine what would result if the more than a million civil servants (roughly half the population of Namibia) were to do the same and give the public protector the middle finger whenever they were probed.
South Africa has the best constitution, the best anti-corruption laws, the best public protector, the best auditor-general, best judiciary and so on.
But there is a danger that all these instruments could become useless in the fight against corruption because citizens believe Zuma is “eating” and his party serves as a napkin to wipe his mouth.
Mpumelelo Mkhabela is the editor of Sowetan
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