“My ambition is my people,” quipped Tokyo Sexwale back in 2007. The former premier of Gauteng, who had turned businessman, was on a campaign trail, canvassing for the presidency of the ANC. His candidature dubbed the “third option” or “third way”, was presented as the alternative to Thabo Mbeki and Jacob Zuma.
Mbeki, then president, and his deputy Jacob Zuma, were locked in a bruising battle for the presidency of the party. Their rival campaigns had essentially divided the party into two feuding factions, making that contest quite unique since the resumption of presidential contests in 1991.
The ANC’s ongoing presidential campaigns have their origin in the mid-2000s. Contesting individuals are going around presenting what they consider the priority issues which will define their presidency. Do these individual priorities, once a candidate is elected party president, ever see the light of day? How different are party priorities from individual interests? If the individual interests differ from the party’s programme, can the victorious candidate ignore the party in favour of his or her own agenda?
The individual campaigns matter but for vastly different reasons. In trying to understand whether they matter, it’s worth reminding ourselves why they started. Their commencement, as early as 2005, for the 2007 national elective conference, was not planned. Zuma initiated presidential campaigns, as we know them today, in defiance of the party’s national headquarters, Luthuli House.
Prior to 2005, the presidential race was a carefully handled affair steered by national leaders. Nelson Mandela was central, for instance, in deciding who succeeded him in 1997. He was determined to have Mbeki, who was already his deputy since 1994, take over from him. Mbeki wanted the post, and the party’s chairperson at the time, Zuma, supported his ambition. Besides the fact that they were close allies, Zuma also stood to gain from Mbeki’s rise to the presidency. He was eyeing Mbeki’s post.
Mbeki was fine with Zuma being his deputy and they collaborated in thwarting Mathews Phosa’s ambition for the post. Mandela, too, in the period towards the 1997 conference, had a hand in throttling Phosa’s desire for the deputy presidency. Phosa was among the first, to quote Mbeki’s term, ndikhetheni (“choose me” in Xhosa), in the ANC who openly declared his ambition for higher office. He touted his history in the ANC, including that he was once the head of the legal department.
Mbeki and Zuma, in their bid to puncture his candidature, dismissed the claims. But, Phosa wouldn’t be silenced. That was a sign to bring in the big gun, Mandela. He announced on radio that Phosa had withdrawn his name from the race. It was not true but Phosa couldn’t openly contradict the old man. How could he say the saintly Mandela was lying without losing face in public? And, Mandela knew Phosa wouldn’t contradict him in public. That’s how Phosa’s candidature was killed in 1997 — through machinations by national headquarters.
Unlike Phosa in 1997, Zuma wouldn’t be silenced in 2005. The difference, this time around, was two-fold. Zuma had built a formidable constituency in KwaZulu-Natal, based on Zulu ethno-nationalism. He pretended to comply with the wishes of the national office by stepping down as deputy president after being charged with corruption and fraud, but instigated KwaZulu-Natal to take up the matter at the party’s national general council in 2005.
The KwaZulu-Natal delegation led the rebellion against Zuma’s suspension, which resulted in him being reinstated. Also, this time around, Mandela wouldn’t step in to determine the succession. His relationship with Mbeki was difficult. Mandela didn’t approve of Mbeki’s stance on HIV and Aids and openly complained that Mbeki was snubbing him. On the other hand, Mandela was helping out Zuma financially. Mandela didn’t seem to mind Zuma challenging Mbeki, even though he knew that Zuma had serious character flaws.
And so, for the first time in the ANC, individual campaigns for the presidency started. Placards that read: “Zuma for president” became commonplace in KwaZulu-Natal, and events were arranged where Zuma would speak, extolling his individual virtues, while throwing jabs at his rival, Mbeki.
Zuma complained of the dearth of internal democracy in the party and warned against intellectual leaders “whose ideas live in briefcases”. Zuma, unlike “the aloof intellectual educated in England”, presented himself as the one who most understood the plight of the poor.
He even suggested re-introducing the death penalty and corporal punishment to deal with crime and ill-discipline at schools. It did not matter that Zuma was part of the same government he was criticising and that his policy proposals went against his party’s. He was determined to distinguish himself from his rival and said anything that set him apart, realistic or not.
One of Zuma’s supporters, the South Africa Communist Party, was even more strident in their attack on Mbeki, insinuating that he was complicit in the killing of Chris Hani. “Mbeki, awusitshele ngubani obulel’ uHani,” (Mbeki, tell us who Hani is) SACP delegates sang accusingly at their 2007 congress. Disdainful of ndikhetheni, Mbeki wouldn’t engage in self-promotion nor would he slam Zuma.
It was only after the branch nominations around October 2007, when it became obvious that he was trailing Zuma, that Mbeki’s candidature took the form of a serious campaign. His lieutenants went for Zuma, calling him all manner of names: a liar, rapist and thief. Unaccustomed to name-calling, Zola Skweyiya, a respected ANC leader of the same generation as Mbeki and Zuma, warned that such “un-ANC” behaviour would turn comrades into enemies and thereby risk creating a permanent rift in the party.
Campaigns for the ANC party presidency are useful but can also be fundamentally misleading. The ANC has a core identity, defined over 110 years, as a centrist party. Its policies, adopted and reaffirmed in the past 54 national conferences, reflect the party’s identity. For any campaign to be taken seriously, therefore, it has to speak to the essence of what the party is.
This is what makes Lindiwe Sisulu’s campaign ridiculous. The attacks on the judges and the rule of law, for instance, represent the antithesis of what her party stands for. Everybody knows she’s unlikely to do any of what she says if elected ANC president. And, the first obstacle to her agenda, assuming she even means it, would be ANC policies themselves.
Campaigns, therefore, force individuals to distinguish themselves from the rest. Some even do so to the point of seeming bizarre. That said, campaigns also have a way of revealing people’s inner motives. Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma and Zweli Mkhize, the two medical doctors in the race, have a problem with people showing contrition when accused of wrongdoing. This is because they’re implicated. Dlamini-Zuma indirectly and Mkhize directly.
Zuma has been wanting everybody to vote for his ex-wife because he trusts her to shield him from the law. Mkhize wants ANC members to believe that the millions of rand that went into the accounts of family members and his personal assistant had nothing to do with him being the minister of health. Their problem with the law gives an inkling of what they’re likely to do if either is elected ANC president. They’re likely to fiddle with law enforcement, the same way Zuma did.
Ultimately, a credible campaign is one that touts the core of the ANC and individual character. Mkhize would be a perfect candidate if he didn’t have the Digital Vibes problem. He’s not pretending to be a radical but simply stresses the importance of leaders acting decisively in decision-making and implementing policies.
That’s where the incumbent, Cyril Ramaphosa, appears vulnerable. His presidency has seen a reversal of a lot of the institutional damage he inherited in 2018 but it’s difficult for him to claim all the credit. He only acted when it was safe to do so, forced by public outcry. Ramaphosa leads by committee. He doesn’t take the initiative. Mkhize has correctly identified the weakness, but can’t exploit it, for he seems to suffer from the worst vice.
Paul Mashatile, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have any of Mkhize’s problems. Although contesting for the deputy presidency, the reported popularity of his campaign is indicative of the success of a candidature that is iconic of the ANC and is known for boldness. Mashatile never ingratiated himself with Zuma and suffered as a consequence.
When most were tentative, looking around to see who would tell Zuma to resign, Mashatile led that initiative in parliament. “If you don’t resign,” Mashatile delivered the message to a fuming Zuma, “we’ll fire you.” Of all the candidates contesting for deputy president that is what distinguishes Mashatile. He never ingratiated himself with a flawed president and was willing to suffer the consequences.
Equally bold is Ronald Lamola. He spoke against state capture long before any ANC leaders. At the risk of inviting ridicule, Lamola held one-man protests outside venues of ANC meetings waving placards. He didn’t look around for a crowd to support him but stood all alone for a principle.
Lamola evidently represents the courageous and principled leadership the ANC needs. None in the ANC, even his foes outside, would dare challenge this characterisation. But, Lamola’s youth — he’s just 38 — may just count against him. South Africa is a conservative society and the ANC is no different. Seniority is mistaken for acumen.
Party campaigns have a penchant to encourage populism. Candidates make all manner of meaningless statements. For anyone looking for an honest analysis of problems and what that person intends to do if elected, they’re not always satisfying. What campaigns are good for though is enabling a thorough assessment of character. Whoever ANC members choose, it will be someone they truly deserve and an undiluted reflection of who they are.
Mcebisi Ndletyana is a professor of political science at the University of Johannesburg and co-author of a forthcoming book on the centenary history of Fort Hare University.
The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the Mail & Guardian.
