PATRICK BULGER | Confidence to burn: parliament votes for itself in histrionic session

When the National Assembly building was cloaked in ashes earlier this year, among the suggestions for rehousing honourable members while the structure was being rebuilt (to be completed near the end of Herman Mashaba’s second presidential term, in about 2034) was that a giant marquee be erected in the parking lot. Basically a circus tent, which is an ideal home for the magicians, jugglers, high-rope walkers, ventriloquists, fire-eaters (and breathers), a few lovable clowns and the chorus of choir-donkeys who are our MPs, elected mostly for their ability to mimic just about any barn creature, and do so in unerring unison. 

When the German Reichstag was burnt down in 1933, Adolf Hitler used his powers as chancellor to indulge in a murderous orgy of violence against communists; when our parliament burnt down in 2022 it, too, set off an orgy — of shopping among nationalists and communists alike (or at least the enthusiastic drawing up of shopping lists) for new premises, furniture, drapery, caterers, waiters, ushers, attendants, barmen and bell-ringers. Not forgetting refreshments, and of course crates of bottled water for MPs when much of the country makes do with the product of neglected wastewater treatment plants.

Fortunately for SA, the courts have acted as the traditional bulwark against political excesses.

After this week’s failed motion of no confidence in President Cyril Ramaphosa’s cabinet, a circus tent strongly suggests itself as the most appropriate accommodation for this giggle of clowns, so spectacularly out of tune and time with a public (normal people) facing endless price increases, a dormant economy and routine crime. Bafflingly, the ministers who were the subject of the vote were able to vote for their own extended tenures, a rare instance of self-service in environs where MPs are waited on as if they were at a never-ending Gupta wedding. 

Inadvertently though, these farcical proceedings provided an early glimpse of the much talked-about “parliamentary democracy’’ in action, perhaps even of the sort envisaged by KwaZulu-Natal premier Sihle Zikalala, who floated the idea again recently. The sort where ministers themselves decide whether they are fit for office. 

Given how things have turned out for the ANC, who would blame it for regretting the day it chose a “constitutional democracy” as best suited to carry our hopes and dreams as a new and democratic nation, but not so much the hopes and dreams of a government with a questionable commitment to financial probity? Yet it was decided before 1994 that beyond the legislature bound by its fits of pique and passion, and complete with their surgical robes, the justices of the Constitutional Court would wield both scalpel and axe, assaying the work of the elected rabble in the National Assembly. MPs could hoot and halala as much as they liked, they could call each other names and even threaten to “take it outside”, but when their work reached the Constitutional Court more sober minds would evaluate it, running the cold constitutional rule over their attempts and deciding whether they passed constitutional muster. And too often they haven’t, but such is the nature of checks and balances. 

Let’s face it, this constant toing and froing between parliament and the courts is tedious, energy-consuming and eats into the time a cabinet minister could otherwise spend in, a) building a political machine to help one’s chances at the next ANC elective conference, b) gathering dirt on opponents to use at the next ANC elective conference, c) raising money on the side to help one’s chances at the next ANC elective conference, and, d) busying oneself at last with departmental matters, but only to swing a contract for an old friend/comrade/family member just in time to secure their support for the next ANC elective conference.

Last year, the Constitutional Court went a step further than it has before in the battle between the “spheres of government”, summarily dispatching former president Jacob Zuma to a correctional services institution of his choosing for 15 months, his remedies and the public as a whole seemingly utterly exhausted. And in between the landmark peaks of the court’s rulings against the government and its now so-confident ministers, our courts have been kept busy trying to get state departments to just do their jobs. Few of these rulings have made much difference, but there have been some spectacular casualties of legal processes, the most recent truant being former minister Bathabile Dlamini, found guilty of perjury. Fortunately for SA, the courts have acted as the traditional bulwark against political excesses. In reaction perhaps, a parliamentary democracy changes course entirely, offering all the questionable benefits of undiluted ANC rule, without a judicial filter. Not a comforting thought. 

This would bring us back to the style of government we had in SA for many years before 1994. One big difference then, for example, was that the select committees where bills were prepared were closed to the public, so everything was conducted in the strictest secrecy, strategic leaks notwithstanding. Smoking was compulsory. 

The most important clause in a bill that would presume to become a law in a parliamentary democracy (and there’s nothing ever stopping it becoming law as is once sufficient MPs have spilt their tea or coffee or bottled water on it for long enough) would say: “The Minister’s decision is final and may not be contested in any court.” This was an important stipulation that saved a lot of hassle with regulations down the line, and which the ANC might fancy given its often-stated affinity with “efficiency’’. 

The final and deciding step in the new legislative procedure would be the voters themselves, as well as people who have given up on voting, who will decide (and this won’t take long) whether they have any intention of actually obeying the law in question. In some cases burning and protest may ensue. Amendments and even drastic rewrites may be necessary.

When the new parliament first sat after the elections of 1994, in the age before bottled water became a constitutional fashion necessity, the new MPs were surprised to find there were no water fountains placed around the corridors to keep them hydrated to the level they seemed accustomed to. An egregious oversight, perhaps, but entirely in keeping with the practice back then when laws were written in Pretoria and finalised quickly in Cape Town. Over a Lexington and a stiff Bols and Coke. Finish en klaar. 

Best thing about the promised parliamentary democracy, as opposed to democracy of the constitutional variety, is that the courts have no say in how the country is being run (into the ground). Judges can only look on in awe at the legislative trapeze artistry that is possible among people who choose to perform with the confidence to forgo a reassuring judicial safety net below them.  

Silence! Clowns and conjurors at work. Behold the rubber stamp of the people.