As the Zuma faction accuses Cyril Ramaphosa of trying to cover up the theft of a suspicious amount of cash from one of his properties, and the president insists he’s just a simple farmer selling the odd water buffalo for pennies, we as South Africans should do the responsible thing: listen to both sides, weigh up the evidence ... and then believe absolutely none of it.
Even at the best of times this scandal would stink to high heaven of factional spin and absurdly transparent hypocrisy. On the one hand we have the radical economic transformation (RET) cabal, which oversaw state capture, squealing about corruption and money-laundering. On the other we have a man who has been integral to the inner workings of the ANC for decades and yet keeps pretending to be shocked by the normal functioning of that organisation, whose son received R2m from the cultish sleaze-fest that was Bosasa, and who continues to surround himself with the same coterie of wretches that got us into this mess, only firing them when he absolutely has to, claiming there’s nothing to see here, folks.
This, however, is not the best of times, and the fact that the allegations have come from former spy boss Arthur Fraser suggests we might be sliding towards the worst of times. I say “suggests” because that’s all most of us have to go on. The only people who know the truth in this case are Ramaphosa, his lawyers, a few spies, and the light-fingered entrepreneurs who hightailed it out of Limpopo with all that sweet presidential tong. The rest of us know less than nothing, and would be wise to form our opinions accordingly.
This might sound like I’m advocating apathy, but I would argue that it is, in fact, a way to keep ourselves — and perhaps the country as a whole — a little bit safer. Assuming that we’re being lied to might not get us closer to the truth, but it will certainly prevent us from becoming useful idiots in a game whose ultimate goal is to secure power and wealth for people who don’t give a damn about us.
Journalists don’t have the luxury of sitting these moments out, but even so it’s been noticeable how little hesitation there has been in the media about repeating Fraser’s figure of $4m, despite Ramaphosa insisting that it was “much less”. It is possible this has been an example of the sort of stenography that has haunted our press in recent years, but it should worry the president that there seems to be a tacit consensus across major news platforms that he has told at least one lie about the incident.
This, however, is where the consensus ends, as commentators continue to debate the nature of his alleged crime. Some point out that it is illegal to hoard millions of undisclosed dollars. Others insist that while forex contraventions are naughty, the real crime here is Ramaphosa’s alleged attempt to cover up the theft.
There is also the question of how much he knew about the treatment of alleged suspects, a process described by the press as “questioning” but which, Fraser implies, seems to have been something between an extrajudicial interrogation and a torture session.
Even the theoretical possibility of a violent interrogation is disturbing. I also understand why people might be alarmed by an alleged cover-up: if Ramaphosa did, in fact, try to bury the story, we would be justified in wondering whether it was the origin of the cash or its intended destination that he wanted to keep secret. However, suggestions that Ramaphosa might be hoarding cash in case he needs to skedaddle at the drop of an RET hat don’t alarm me in the slightest. On the contrary, I want my president to be a clear-eyed, unshockable realist, and if that means he’s packed and ready to flee, then all power to him.
In fact, I would argue that $4m is the absolute minimum he should have in his go-bag: if I were clinging to the leadership of a crime syndicate that was part church, part mafia, besieged by my rivals, and I knew the whole show was ending in 2024 anyway because you can only steal so much before the townsfolk come for you with pitchforks — and I was worth $450m — I like to think I’d have at least $10m duct-taped to my tummy and inner thighs for when I get that midnight WhatsApp and have to tell Alfonse to fire up the jet and pack the extra paper-shredder.
No, for now I’m quite happy to reserve all judgment and wait for the investigative journalists to get their teeth into this story. And while I wait I will marvel at the ANC’s capacity to surprise us with yet another absurd, obscene twist in our national story. If Ramaphosa has committed a crime, and if he is charged, and if he steps down, he will be replaced by the RET faction, which will immediately cancel the step-aside rule, disband the National Prosecuting Authority, steal the election in 2024 and then get properly stuck in.
The paradox is almost exquisite. In theory we have reached a point where, if Ramaphosa is guilty of a crime, enforcing the rule of law will guarantee the obliteration of the rule of law for decades to come. If only he’d asked for the EFT.
• Eaton is an Arena Holdings columnist.
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