Rot is undermining our foundations

During an investment meeting last week discussing the perilous risks to the economy, the decomposition of state-owned enterprises and the shameful conduct of our parliamentarians, a colleague threw up his hands in exasperation, blurting out: "I've been here my whole life.

My friends and family are here. I earn a living here and send my kids to school here. We can't carry on like this forever."

We all shared his feelings of despair and helplessness; seemingly trapped and powerless to navigate ourselves out of a hapless jam.

In his first meeting as Reserve Bank governor, Lesetja Kganyago downgraded his economic growth forecasts, numbers that are well below the global mean, considerably lower than the rest of the continent and not the kind of expansion needed to address the country's ambitions.

Over the past five years the rand has lost 40% of its purchasing power against the dollar, and with inflation projected to remain above 5% for the next three years, at a time when the rich world is fretting about deflation, our currency's decline could persist.

The strains of a slowing economy were also evident in recent corporate earnings reports. PPC and Group 5 exposed pressing problems in the construction industry, Woolworths revealed that even wealthy food shoppers were buying down, and packaging group Nampak's South African trading profits contracted for the first time in ages.

Furthermore, the dramatic fall in commodity prices, the upshot of reduced Chinese demand and increased producer supply, are shrinking mining margins, rendering some fringe gold, platinum and coal operations unfeasible.

Like my colleagues, I have no investment in the demise of the country. I have far too much to lose from its failure. Friends tell me I worry too much and life here is still easier than anywhere else.

My misgivings do not lie with our hard-working business sector, but with the people in charge of running the country, who regard tax revenues as a communal Ponzi scheme and show little desire to swap their tailored suits for workers' overalls. Their languor and lack of care stretches from the chiefs lodged in big offices in the Union Buildings to mayors of small towns and cops in charge of patrolling our roads.

On Friday at midday, on my way to a TV taping, I was delayed on Jan Smuts Avenue, one of the busiest thoroughfares in Johannesburg. Load-shedding in the area had put the traffic lights out of commission, causing huge back-ups. What astonished me was that there was not a police officer in sight to control the flow of cars and ensure the safety of drivers caught in the congestion, let alone the authorities considering the loss of productivity and polluting fumes emitted from idling motors. It's not an isolated incident.

It's a common occurrence in a city where the road system is fast decaying and where government departments obviously do not bother communicating with each other.

In Katherine Avenue, Sandton, another busy city artery, repair work has reduced a normal three-lane road to one, making passage slow and unsafe, particularly at night. Neither the construction company nor the council has been troubled about lighting the way and taxis drive on the road observing only one rule: that there are no rules.

It's a sorry tale of administrative ineptitude that extends far deeper than the problems on Johannesburg's roads, and which is serious enough to undermine the country's ability to grow itself out of trouble.

I read popular commentators telling me that South Africans are resilient and the nation is not on the edge of a cliff. We live in a good place that is not falling apart, they say.

I wish I shared their sentiments. Somehow I feel like the kid who is bullied at school and whose father, instead of offering an immediate solution to tackle the frightened boy's tormentors, promises that one day when he grows up, he'll be powerful enough to give them a real whipping.