It has been almost two years since Pemmy Majodina — despite then chief justice Raymond Zondo’s best efforts — mangled a simple word during her swearing-in as minister of water & sanitation, yet the cringeworthy moment remains fresh in the public memory and a staple for comedians.
That excruciatingly embarrassing episode was probably welcome relief from the acrimony that had thus far been a feature of the cabinet negotiations. As Majodina fumbled through her oath, the other appointees burst out laughing. President Cyril Ramaphosa, the villain of the piece, joined in the fun, burying his face in his hand as he giggled. But this was no laughing matter. In fact, the joke was on the president.
As people wander the streets of our villages, towns and cities with empty buckets looking for water, we wonder why our magical Majodina cannot just snap her fingers and solve the problem. Should we be surprised, though? Why do we always seem to be tethered to miracles? Majodina’s deputy is of course the incorruptible David Mahlobo, another Einstein.
Few people who’ve had a perfunctory glance at Majodina would be convinced she’s cabinet material. She wouldn’t cut it even as a village dog catcher. But Ramaphosa, her generous benefactor, thinks she’s good enough to be in charge of perhaps one of the most important portfolios in government.
Our parliament, from which cabinet appointments are drawn, is not exactly crawling with intellectual giants.
Apart from the backroom political machinations which ultimately lead to such flawed appointments, the problem is much deeper, however. Our parliament, from which cabinet appointments are drawn, is not exactly crawling with intellectual giants. The ignorance and stupidity displayed by some of our honourable members doesn’t get enough public scrutiny, and when it does, we often tend to make fun of it.
Their foibles have almost become a running joke, providing light relief to a public groaning under numerous and seemingly insurmountable problems. There’s almost an expectation that an MP is likely to say something silly or stupid when they open their mouths.
Why do our parliamentarians on the whole often seem dumb and dimwitted? These are our so-called public representatives, responsible for passing laws, monitoring government decisions and essentially being our eyes and ears. And yet some of them can hardly string a few sentences together, let alone sustain an argument.
One of them, Jacob Zuma, became our president and proceeded to appoint a bevy of fellow ignoramuses to his cabinet and other key government institutions. Stealing is not the only damage he did.
Of all the woes the ANC has inflicted on the country in its 32 years in government — corruption, soaring crime, lawlessness, poverty, and more — the damage done to education is the least discussed but perhaps the most consequential, and its effects long-lasting.
Instead of being a vehicle to a brighter future, the education system has almost become a silent killer — killing the dreams of our young people. Millions of them are loitering in the streets, unemployed or even unemployable. If not caught up in crime, the lucky ones would go on to join groups such as trade unions or political parties for a sense of belonging and emotional support, and, despite their shortcomings, some may even end up in our parliaments.
So, instead of sending our best people to craft our laws, we end up giving the responsibility to the least qualified. It’s no coincidence, for instance, that debates in parliament, the legislatures and council meetings are often raucous and vacuous. There’s often very little intellectual rigour or rational engagement.
It’s interesting that it has been those in overalls or military fatigues — odd attire for an MP — who are likely to adopt a boorish or threatening posture during important debates. Realising that they’re slightly deficient in brains, they resort to brawn to achieve their aims. The attire therefore has little to do with any ideological leaning or inclination. It’s a reflection of the empty cavity upstairs. After all, empty cymbals make the most noise.
It’s no coincidence ... that most party leaders often stay in charge for a long time. Because of the power they wield, they’re able to intimidate or neutralise the push from below. Except for the ANC and the DA, most of the parties have shown little inclination, if any, to hold internal elections
But one of the key drivers of ignorance among MPs — and this needs to be emphasised over and over again — is our electoral system. It gives all the powers to party bosses to decide who goes to parliament, the various councils and the legislatures. It’s essentially undemocratic and hardly in line with the spirit and values of our constitutional dispensation.
Leaders are unlikely to choose those perceived as mavericks, trouble-makers or bold enough to challenge or question authority. It’s those who are unlikely to threaten the status quo who often get the nod. Party bosses are the eternal gatekeepers. They literally hold the fate of members in their hands. You’re unlikely to climb up the greasy pole if you cross or annoy the leadership. This breeds docility in the party and an unwillingness to express an opposing view.
It’s no coincidence, for instance, that most party leaders often stay in charge for a long time. Because of the power they wield, they’re able to intimidate or neutralise the push from below. Except for the ANC and the DA, most of the parties have shown little inclination, if any, to hold internal elections.
Zuma says people are often bought, so his MK Party is not going to have any election — and his word is law. ActionSA has not held an election since its launch. The EFF brings to mind the practice in communist countries during the Cold War where the leader, having stood for election as the sole candidate, would then be declared to have received 99.9% of the vote. Gatsha Buthelezi was leader of the IFP for 44 years before he retired because of advanced age.
South Africa is a pretty vibrant and at times boisterous society and deserves to have an equally plugged-in legislature that does not only reflect its character but is also an appropriate crucible for its ideas. That could also inspire better-qualified individuals who might currently view parliament as some sort of a grimy swamp that could only tarnish their reputation.
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