If there were two things I would have hoped we would leave behind in 2016, they would have been South Africans’ selective morality and the manufactured outrage we often see on social media.
By manufactured outrage I refer to the countless times that the social media erupts into a battlefield after one not-so-clever user makes a ridiculous comment and then everyone jumps on the bandwagon of condemnation and pillorying the out-of-line user.
In many instances the public rebuke is justified, but often times it is nothing more than social media opportunism.
Then there is our selective morality where it is deemed acceptable to throw the book at some wrongdoers but not so much at others.
This hypocrisy is currently evident in the debate around the leaked public protector’s provisional report on the Reserve Bank’s payments to Bankorp (which later became Absa) between 1991 and 1995.
The public debate over the “lifeboat” has mostly centred around advocate Busisiwe Mkhwebane’s motive, rather than the question of whether a case can be made for the repayment of the public money that illicitly benefited Bankorp’s shareholders.
Central to Mkhwebane’s report is the recommendation that the Reserve Bank and the Treasury should recover R1.225-billion from Absa.
Absa acquired Bankorp in 1992. The Reserve Bank “loaned” the struggling Bankorp R1.1-billion, which was paid over a period of five years at an interest rate of 1%.
In turn, Bankorp reinvested the entire amount in Reserve Bank and Treasury bonds, benefiting massively from the handsome interest rate of 16% per annum. Basically this means that the Reserve Bank paid interest to Bankorp on its own money.
While the two judges in separate investigations commissioned by the post-1994 government – Willem Heath and later Dennis Davis – found that the payments were illegal, they differed on what should happen next.
Davis argued that the money could not be recovered from Absa as it had paid its fair share when it acquired Bankorp.
Interestingly though, Heath’s report – like Mkhwebane’s to an extent – suggested the R1.1-billion loan could be recovered from Absa, but Heath warned that doing so could lead to a run on the bank. Panicky account-holders could withdraw their cash en masse. This could lead to a collapse of the bank.
No one is disputing that somebody – be it Absa or Bankorp’s individual shareholders – benefited from the illegal transaction.
Basically the illegal transaction was committed and someone should be held accountable.
This has nothing to do with Mkhwebane’s motive.
She may well be a useful tool in President Jacob Zuma’s fight-back machinery. She may well be doing the Guptas’ bidding – they are unhappy about Absa closing their businesses’ accounts.
That is besides the point.
The reality is that the Bankorp saga may well be a first step in uncovering the billions that were looted from state coffers prior to 1994.
In his book Lost in Transformation, Sampie Terreblanche, the respected Emeritus Professor of Economics at the University of Stellenbosch, tracks South Africa’s progress from the beginning of the negotiations between the apartheid state and the then exiled ANC leadership in 1986 until 1994.
He writes that during FW de Klerk’s tenure as president, from 1989 to 1994, the government deficit grew from R91.2-billion to R237-billion in current terms.
That’s a whopping increase in deficit of R145-billion within just five years.
This dramatic increase in public debt, Terreblanche writes, could be attributed to “reckless plundering” and “corruption” in the final years of the apartheid government’s rule.
The hypocrisy here is evident in the popular view that bygones should be allowed to be bygones. “It happened so long ago”, is a popular refrain.
But how far back do we go with that argument? Do we say the same for Zuma and his 783 charges for fraud and corruption?
The point here is that the law must be applied to everyone equally. Whether it is Zuma, the Guptas or anyone else, if there is evidence of state looting then the matter must be thoroughly investigated and those responsible must be brought to book. It does not matter how long it takes, we cannot be making excuses for corruption.
Philosophy 101 provides a very easy way for anyone to gauge if their actions are ethically sound. The question to ask is what would happen if everyone else was to behave in a fashion similar to the behaviour in issue?
So basically in this case, what would happen if state resources had to be abused in a similar way for the benefit of, say, struggling businesses?
Clearly the Bankorp “bailout” affair fails this basic test.
Those complicit in what was grand theft should be investigated. The ruse that it would be too difficult to recover the money also does not hold.
Has anyone tried to recover the money? The answer is no.
If we despise corruption, then we cannot be selective in our response to it. We should hate it in all its forms, colours or shades.
Let all of those who are corrupt, black and white, pay for their crimes or at least pay back the money.
Let all the corrupt pay back the money
By manufactured outrage I refer to the countless times that the social media erupts into a battlefield after one not-so-clever user makes a ridiculous comment and then everyone jumps on the bandwagon of condemnation and pillorying the out-of-line user.
In many instances the public rebuke is justified, but often times it is nothing more than social media opportunism.
Then there is our selective morality where it is deemed acceptable to throw the book at some wrongdoers but not so much at others.
This hypocrisy is currently evident in the debate around the leaked public protector’s provisional report on the Reserve Bank’s payments to Bankorp (which later became Absa) between 1991 and 1995.
The public debate over the “lifeboat” has mostly centred around advocate Busisiwe Mkhwebane’s motive, rather than the question of whether a case can be made for the repayment of the public money that illicitly benefited Bankorp’s shareholders.
Central to Mkhwebane’s report is the recommendation that the Reserve Bank and the Treasury should recover R1.225-billion from Absa.
Absa acquired Bankorp in 1992. The Reserve Bank “loaned” the struggling Bankorp R1.1-billion, which was paid over a period of five years at an interest rate of 1%.
In turn, Bankorp reinvested the entire amount in Reserve Bank and Treasury bonds, benefiting massively from the handsome interest rate of 16% per annum. Basically this means that the Reserve Bank paid interest to Bankorp on its own money.
While the two judges in separate investigations commissioned by the post-1994 government – Willem Heath and later Dennis Davis – found that the payments were illegal, they differed on what should happen next.
Davis argued that the money could not be recovered from Absa as it had paid its fair share when it acquired Bankorp.
Interestingly though, Heath’s report – like Mkhwebane’s to an extent – suggested the R1.1-billion loan could be recovered from Absa, but Heath warned that doing so could lead to a run on the bank. Panicky account-holders could withdraw their cash en masse. This could lead to a collapse of the bank.
No one is disputing that somebody – be it Absa or Bankorp’s individual shareholders – benefited from the illegal transaction.
Basically the illegal transaction was committed and someone should be held accountable.
This has nothing to do with Mkhwebane’s motive.
She may well be a useful tool in President Jacob Zuma’s fight-back machinery. She may well be doing the Guptas’ bidding – they are unhappy about Absa closing their businesses’ accounts.
That is besides the point.
The reality is that the Bankorp saga may well be a first step in uncovering the billions that were looted from state coffers prior to 1994.
In his book Lost in Transformation, Sampie Terreblanche, the respected Emeritus Professor of Economics at the University of Stellenbosch, tracks South Africa’s progress from the beginning of the negotiations between the apartheid state and the then exiled ANC leadership in 1986 until 1994.
He writes that during FW de Klerk’s tenure as president, from 1989 to 1994, the government deficit grew from R91.2-billion to R237-billion in current terms.
That’s a whopping increase in deficit of R145-billion within just five years.
This dramatic increase in public debt, Terreblanche writes, could be attributed to “reckless plundering” and “corruption” in the final years of the apartheid government’s rule.
The hypocrisy here is evident in the popular view that bygones should be allowed to be bygones. “It happened so long ago”, is a popular refrain.
But how far back do we go with that argument? Do we say the same for Zuma and his 783 charges for fraud and corruption?
The point here is that the law must be applied to everyone equally. Whether it is Zuma, the Guptas or anyone else, if there is evidence of state looting then the matter must be thoroughly investigated and those responsible must be brought to book. It does not matter how long it takes, we cannot be making excuses for corruption.
Philosophy 101 provides a very easy way for anyone to gauge if their actions are ethically sound. The question to ask is what would happen if everyone else was to behave in a fashion similar to the behaviour in issue?
So basically in this case, what would happen if state resources had to be abused in a similar way for the benefit of, say, struggling businesses?
Clearly the Bankorp “bailout” affair fails this basic test.
Those complicit in what was grand theft should be investigated. The ruse that it would be too difficult to recover the money also does not hold.
Has anyone tried to recover the money? The answer is no.
If we despise corruption, then we cannot be selective in our response to it. We should hate it in all its forms, colours or shades.
Let all of those who are corrupt, black and white, pay for their crimes or at least pay back the money.
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