BARNEY MTHOMBOTHI | Parliament’s speaker is just another party hack

National Assembly speaker Thokozile Didiza was right to dismiss out of hand opportunistic demands by some opposition parties that she recuse herself from matters relating to the impeachment of President Cyril Ramaphosa.

Such a move would have set a precedent that would have made the speaker’s job well nigh impossible.

Parliament is all political theatre. Every issue dealt with is of a political nature. So where does one draw the line? It’s like demanding that the president sit out certain functions because of some perceived conflict of interest. It would be a nonsensical demand. A speaker can only cease to perform her duties in the event of being removed from office by a vote of MPs. There can be no ad hoc arrangement.

But the overzealousness is somewhat understandable. Small parties with negligible support — beneficiaries of a flawed electoral system — are salivating at the prospect of sinking their teeth into no less a figure than the president. They’re smelling blood. They believe that at last they have the Buffalo on the run. With an eye on the November 4 elections, everyone wants their day in the sun. Careers could hang on it. Which is why, for instance, selecting the impeachment committee became something of a scrum. Everyone wants in on the act. What should be a bona fide ad hoc committee has been turned into something like a mass meeting. Expect a brawl.

The president is in for a more hostile reception from some MPs than, say, Vusimusi “Cat” Matlala, a fraud and attempted murder suspect. There’s no daylight between Matlala and some MPs on the committee who have their own skeletons in their cupboards. Which is why the idea that only “fit and proper” MPs should serve on the committee has been met with such vehement resistance. Very few of them have clean hands. At stake will be more than a few hundred dollars hidden in a couch.

But the ANC is to blame for the diminution of the role of speaker. Instead of acting as presiding officer of parliament, which holds the executive to account, manages debates and enforces rules, she’s been reduced to just another functionary at the beck and call of the organisation. She’s a deployee of Luthuli House, always expected to do its bidding.

The message was clear: do as the party says — or else

The impression has grown over the years, especially among opposition parties, that the speaker is just another ANC partisan who’s beholden not to the institution but to the party. At times, it’s been difficult to distinguish the speaker from a party whip.

The tone was set right from the start by the formidable Frene Ginwala, first speaker of democratic South Africa, who, for instance, initially supported a parliamentary investigation into the notorious multibillion-rand arms deal and then did a volte face, joining senior party leaders to scupper it. Had she stood her ground and asserted parliament’s role to hold the executive accountable, South Africa would probably be a different place. Instead, she buckled under pressure from party honchos. It was a defining moment in the life of an adolescent democracy. It opened the sluice gates, allowing the brazen corruption that we’re witnessing today.

Ginwala’s deputy, Baleka Mbete, who succeeded her, simply followed in her footsteps, but it was during her first tenure that parliament was blatantly used as a platform to fight ANC factional battles. She lined up behind Jacob Zuma against Thabo Mbeki, hoping to be his deputy should he prevail. He did triumph but preferred Kgalema Motlanthe for the job.

Max Sisulu, the only man to occupy the position, was summarily dumped after he attempted to put together an ad hoc committee to look into the public protector’s report on Nkandla. The message was clear: do as the party says — or else.

But it was during Mbete’s second stint as speaker that the ANC used its majority in parliament to protect a scandal-plagued Zuma. It was left to the constitutional court, headed by Mogoeng Mogoeng, a Zuma appointee, to deliver a scathing judgment lambasting parliament for exonerating him.

Many countries have sought to protect the speaker from partisan politics

And when then defence minister Nosiviwe Maphisa-Nqakula went to sleep, failing to deploy troops to quell the July 2021 nationwide unrest, Ramaphosa thought it wise not to fire her but to promote her to speaker of the National Assembly, a position second in line to succeed the president. She duly showed her gratitude for the honour by presiding over the burning down of the houses of parliament.

Even Didiza, in rejecting calls for her recusal, mentions the fact that she’s a member of the ANC’s NEC and NWC, thus confirming her accusers’ criticism that she’s just another party hack. She’s also in the discussion as a possible successor to Ramaphosa. It may not be her fault, though. Apart from an explanation on the election and removal of speakers, the constitution doesn’t seem to say much about the role or how they should conduct themselves.

Many countries have sought to protect the speaker from partisan politics. In Japan, for instance, the speaker and the deputy resign from party politics on being elected. There’s nothing to learn from the US, where their speaker is the leader of the majority party and therefore more of a henchman. Britain seems to have got it about right. Upon being elected, speakers resign from their parties and become strictly impartial. And although they remain an MP of their constituency, the convention among the parties is not to field candidates against them during elections.

South Africa is in the same league as Zimbabwe, where the current speaker, for instance, is also secretary-general of the ruling Zanu-PF.

Perhaps now that no party commands an absolute majority in parliament, the time may be right to introduce a constitutional amendment that would shield speakers from all political pressures, thus allowing them to play a more neutral role. The speaker needs to be seen to be fair if parliament is to fulfil its mandate as the eyes and ears of the public.