This is how the ANC ends. Not with a bang but with a wimp.
To be clear, I’m not suggesting that a Zweli Mkhize presidency would necessarily have taken the party — and the country as a whole — towards violent collapse.
In fact, until he was implicated in the Digital Vibes corruption scandal, Mkhize gave the impression of a quietly competent professional, a politician who avoided tacky, Mbalula-esque spectacle in favour of the sort of traditional photo op where you stand looking earnest and interested as someone explains the workings of some piece of machinery to you.
LISTEN | Ramaphosa has already proven he cannot save the ANC from itself
As the horse trading continued through Sunday evening and into Monday morning, I even wondered, for just a moment, if an Mkhize win might not give us the thing I’ve been hoping for for years: a transition towards sustainable corruption in the ANC, a system whereby patronage networks realise they can loot for decades if they merely steal the odd golden egg rather than lunge straight for the goose’s jugular.
These, however, were silly consolations. An Mkhize win would have been a disaster for South Africa for one simple reason: he would have convinced more voters to stay with the party in 2024 and kept the whole ghastly ordeal grinding on for another half-decade.
Remove Ramaphosa’s billions and the clout they buy, and there is simply no comparison between the two men. Mkhize gives the impression that he’s always wrestling with the great questions of our time; Ramaphosa always looks like he’s woken up from a long nap and needs to be burped. Mkhize has a constituency; Ramaphosa has joggers on the Fresnaye Promenade and King Charles III.
An Mkhize win would have been a disaster for South Africa for one simple reason: he would have convinced more voters to stay with the party in 2024 and kept the whole ghastly ordeal grinding on for another half-decade.
Most importantly of all, Mkhize has a priceless asset Ramaphosa doesn’t: he’s never been president, so he hasn’t failed at it. It’s why a million South Africans can convince themselves that Julius Malema will be a great president: they’ve never actually seen him run anything.
Come 2024, Mkhize would have sold the clichés — son of the soil, a radical new direction, Make the ANC Great Again, Eskom is the enemy of the people — and sold them well. The only thing Ramaphosa sells well is Ankole cattle.
Ironically, the next few days and weeks might see Ramaphosa firing the passengers he’s been forced to carry and take a step towards becoming the sort of president I hoped he’d be in 2017. Well, a tiny step: I was astonished to read educated people write without irony that certain contenders were “renewal” candidates, as if Nomvula Mokonyane represents anything but the worst inadequacies of the broken ANC, or Gwede Mantashe is capable of producing any new thinking, or Fikile Mbalula is capable of producing any thinking whatsoever.
Still, the further Ramaphosa goes in a progressive, reformist direction, the more he will alienate voters who wanted a Zuma or Mkhize; and we know that when ANC voters lose heart, they don’t switch parties: they just don’t vote.
LISTEN | Mondli Gungubele, Baleka Mbete, Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula, Mmamoloko Kubayi react
In other words, I believe history will recall that over this last weekend, 4,400 delegates voted, by a fairly large majority, to end the rule of the ANC.
They chose palliative care over raging against the dying of the light.
Of course, some might argue that the ANC is dead already, having given up the ghost somewhere between the mortal wound of the arms deal and the final flatline of state capture.
Certainly, Monday provided a visceral display of that soul death as Kgalema Motlanthe tried to read out the results of the vote at Nasrec.
Traditionally, ANC speakers have quietened boisterous or unruly crowds by calling out a resolute “Amandla!”, a call which demands an immediate and united reply of “Ngawethu!” and which tends to bring a sudden halt to any singing, dancing, heckling or chair-throwing.
On Monday, however, Motlanthe’s calls of “Amandla!” were roundly ignored as just more than half the room celebrated Ramaphosa’s win and just under half decried it.
It was a perfect microcosm of the final years of ANC rule, where old rallying cries ring hollow because “Power to the people” is a cynical joke and discipline is something you threaten your enemies with rather than demonstrate yourself; where the voice of mild-mannered theorists like Motlanthe is drowned out by the sound of people getting ready to eat.
It’s time, however, to draw a veil over those scenes. This is my last column for 2022, so let me close by thanking you for coming with me on this strange, often confusing and infuriating journey this year.
May we meet again in 2023, may the road by less steep, and may our path start becoming clearer.
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