There was the natural question of authenticity the day it was revealed that Duduzane Zuma had launched a defence of his father on Twitter. There are other social media profiles attributed to the former president’s son, but these are clearly bogus.
If you read what he writes and listen to the interview in Dubai with Milton Nkosi of the BBC, you’ll find consistency.
Duduzane promotes the idea of his father being an innocent, selfless leader persecuted by a system that is "anti-black". He reposts glorious nonsense from Black First Land First; in 2017 he attacked Pravin Gordhan in an open letter but whatever its objective, it failed. What he wants is the type of sympathy for his father many blacks have accused white people of lacking in the wake of Winnie Madikizela-Mandela’s death.
The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree. Duduzane’s father is a professional victim, as revealed last week in a church, when congregants were encouraged to pray "for the softening of hearts".
No so-called white monopoly capital opposition enforced this incompetence; no anti-Brics sentiment was responsible for grinding the government to a halt.
Jacob Zuma knows what’s coming to him, and he also knows the Stalingrad strategy of frustrating the hell out of the courts with delays and appeals won’t work alone: he needs waves of public sympathy. I’m in the minority commentary, alongside Charlene Smith and Marianne Thamm. I sympathise with Madikizela-Mandela. I’m not entitled to even comment on forgiveness. When I think about her, I think about the first-hand accounts I heard of her torture, about how nauseated I was, about how it was so clearly designed to dehumanise and ultimately impair her.
Which is precisely what happened, and what so many failed to consider before they flew into wild condemnation. She was brutalised, and most of the time those unto whom damage is done, as Auden goes, do damage in return.
But when I think about Jacob Zuma I think about the fat little face of Des van Rooyen gasping in surprise at his appointment as finance minister, awkwardly articulating unfunny jokes about being mistaken for an Afrikaner.
I think about the hoarse voice and forked tongue of Mosebenzi Zwane mouthing off about insults and rivers, about the wife of a late sex pest, Maite Nkoane-Mashabane, talking about a hole in her head. I think about Bathabile Dlamini attempting to retain balance on the steps of Parliament after a state of the nation address, about the arrogant defiance and dishonesty of Brian Molefe and Faith Muthambi in Parliament.
For 10 years the ANC ceased to function. The main consistencies in the technical analysis of government departments’ performance during the Zuma administration are scandals exploding, deadlines being missed and delays being commonplace. No so-called white monopoly capital opposition enforced this incompetence; no anti-Brics sentiment was responsible for grinding the government to a halt. Instead, this toxic immobility was as a result of an environment addicted to poor judgment and serial temptation.
But Jacob Zuma’s legal team, well versed in the art of projecting conspiracies, will seek to exploit the electorate’s propensity to forgiveness. The image of a man pressured to make excruciating life decisions and who suffered for his beliefs will be cast, illuminated against middle-class pleasure at his resignation at a time when the aggrieved are agitating for historical reparations.
Sympathy and condemnation are difficult to aim, and only accessible through a journey of information. Many of Madikizela-Mandela’s experiences, including the worst of her treatment, have stood unspoken, resulting in a rush to condemn from certain quarters. Jacob Zuma is different.
Blind solidarity, the kind his son seeks on his behalf, will not work. There is simply too much technical evidence of his multiple indiscretions.
• Reader works for an energy investment and political advisory firm.
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