Football is not what immediately registers whenever the city of Paris comes to mind. One tends to think of the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, The Louvre, all those trendy arrondissements, and fine cuisine. But the French are also crazy about the beautiful game, and being the reigning world champions, they are damn good at it too. Few will forget those emotional scenes in 1998 when the maestro, Zizou, led the victorious national team, Le Bleus, down a packed Champs Èlysées hoisting the World Cup trophy on home soil to chants of La Marseillaise.
Liberty, equality and beautiful football moments are what the French have given us ... well, at least until two Sundays ago. A foul-tempered clash between Paris St Germain (PSG) and Marseille at the Parc des Princes saw five players, including the Brazilian magician Neymar, sent off following a nasty brawl involving the two opposing teams.
But you see, football has a way of holding hotheads accountable, even after the fact. So it came as no surprise when French football authorities – after viewing footage of the brawl – upheld Neymar’s two-match suspension; but his teammates Layvin Kurzawa and Angel de Maria each received six- and four-match bans respectively for their part in the skirmish.
Accountability and consequences for wrong actions are important not just in sports, but in life in general. Transgressions of any kind have to be followed by strong action that holds culprits accountable for their misdeeds, and acts as deterrent to future wrongdoers.
Accountability has been missing in our political lexicon for more than a decade. In the crazy days of the Zuma-led kleptocracy, ministers and senior government officials who broke rules and acted with impunity were often rewarded with redeployments, diplomatic postings and slaps on the wrists. “I hereby reprimand you,” was as tough as Zuma would get with truant ministers.
Mapisa-Nqakula deliberately broke the law governing not just the lockdown, but legal and administrative prescripts she swore to uphold.
So, it came as a breath of fresh air when communications and digital technologies minister Stella Ndabeni-Abrahams was properly reprimanded in April by President Cyril Ramaphosa for breaking national lockdown regulations early on at level 5 when pictures of her sharing a meal with friends were circulated on social media. She was placed on special leave, docked two months’ pay, and forced to issue a public apology for her misdeeds.
On Saturday evening, Ramaphosa got tougher with another minister. He informed the nation that he had issued a formal reprimand to defence minister Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula for “conveying an ANC delegation to Zimbabwe on aircraft of the South African Air Force”.
He docked her three months’ salary, starting from November 1, which will be paid into the Solidarity Fund. He has also directed her to make sure that the ANC reimburses the state for the costs of the September 8 flight to Harare.
In terms of holding wrongdoers accountable, this is a major improvement from where we come from. But it is not enough. By offering ANC NEC members, several of whom are not in government, a free ride on an Air Force jet, Mapisa-Nqakula deliberately broke the law governing not just the lockdown, but legal and administrative prescripts she swore to uphold.
She took a key state resource and used it in a partisan matter, availing it to her political buddies without due regard to security and other risks associated with such reckless action. I won’t even start on how many lockdown regulations they broke on that mission. For a minister serving in the security cluster, her actions are totally unacceptable.
In a well-functioning democracy, the president should have asked for her letter of resignation within 24 hours, failing which he should have axed her on the spot. Over and above the appropriate punishment, this would also have served as future deterrent to those contemplating similar or worse action.
ANC ministers never learn. I bet another one is busy cooking up something, somewhere in the shadows. It’s only a matter of time before we gasp at another scandal and collectively sigh déjà vu, to borrow from the French.
