Oy Vey Jacob Zuma ANC Election Manifesto South African Funny Politics 101 v1

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Good-news manifesto bad news for ANC

President Jacob Zuma. Picture: GCIS

President Jacob Zuma. Picture: GCIS

In this article

THE ANC has readied itself for the coming election with an astonishing level of hubris. While the good story it tells in its manifesto is largely true and has always worked in the past to remind voters of the good things the ANC has brought, there are compelling facts and arguments that show the party is overreaching this time, when it asks voters to “go forward together” on the basis of its previous record.

A key reason is that while the story of delivery is largely true — more people in jobs, 3.3-million free houses and 7-million more electricity connections, among other impressive achievements — it is far from completely true. The numbers have been given a far rosier tint than is wise and the ANC should be warned that it will not ring true with the experiences of the poor on the ground.

Nowhere is this truer than on the jobs front, the overriding priority of its last manifesto.

That unreached target of 5-million jobs by 2014 has disappeared without a word and in its place no target for formal employment is set. Instead, 6-million “job opportunities” in the next five years through public employment programmes are promised.

The government’s accounting of public works jobs has been notoriously dubious, but apart from this — and the fact that a large proportion of jobs show a sad lack of imagination and usually amount to picking up litter — these are an important strategy for alleviating poverty and there is no reason 6-million could not be reached.

The manifesto — in the long form — soberly reminds voters of the global financial crisis and its devastating impact on employment. But both the short form and President Jacob Zuma, in his speeches, have chosen to emphasise “that more jobs have been created than before” — a statement that, although true, is nonsense without the broader context, which illustrates that employment creation has been a disaster.

When Mr Zuma took office in May 2009, SA had just reached its highest employment peak, with 13.8-million people in jobs and the economy having enjoyed its longest period of unbroken growth yet. Five years later, employment has only just reached similar levels, with the last Quarterly Labour Force Survey reporting 14-million employed at end-September.

In the interim, Statistics SA has noted, 2.3-million people have joined the working-age population — a clear indicator that the economy, five years later, is less able to absorb labour. It is conceivable, but unlikely, that working people and the poor would not have noticed the increase in hardship that comes with a greater number of dependants in the extended family.

Like the jobs story, the social delivery numbers are also true but do not tell the whole story without their context.

The General Household Survey, which has begun in recent years to track not only service delivery but also the level of satisfaction with services, last year produced some interesting findings.

Firstly, due to continuing migration, a greater proportion of people — 13.2% — live in informal settlements, where dissatisfaction appears highest, especially over sanitation, and where alternatives like the Economic Freedom Front have found the most traction.

Among people living in free government houses, 16% complained about their quality. There was also a substantial proportion of complaints about water quality — only 60% of people said they were satisfied — and electricity and water interruptions.

While these are tangible gripes, there is also a growing sense of grievance among the population over what could be termed “relative deprivation”. The strongest indication of this has been the militant, often violent strikes by the employed, all of whom, taking into account the overall increase in access to basic services, are certainly better off than before 1994.

But as political scientists such as University of Johannesburg professor Steven Friedman have pointed out, a simultaneous rise in both wealth and dissatisfaction is perfectly possible, particularly in a society of high levels of inequality.

“Once the need (for basic services) is satisfied, people measure their circumstances against those they see around them. It does not help to point out to people that they are better off than they used to be,” he said when commenting on the issue last year.

This brings us to the question of a minimum wage policy, the only new ingredient in the ANC manifesto. Apart from the fact that this is only a promise to “investigate” a minimum wage, could such a promise be considered an election winner? The answer is, nobody knows. Since its inclusion in the manifesto comes from a concession to alliance partner Cosatu — which, given its internal turmoil, needs something to present to workers to justify its continued presence in the alliance — there is no indication of the extent to which voters think this is important.

This is because it all depends on what level the minimum would be pitched at. It would need to be at least R3,000, the median wage in the economy according to the General Household Survey. In Cosatu’s own deliberations on the minimum wage last year, it arrived at a range of R4,000-R6,000 a month. These levels are not unreasonable but would be unaffordable to a large number of employers.

The National Development Plan recommended using a poverty line of R418 per person per month in 2009 prices — about R2,000 a month for a family of four. Since the government cannot readily argue that the employed should live only a few steps from poverty, it would be politically difficult to set a minimum wage on the poverty line.

In short, from a vote-winning perspective, the level of the minimum wage is a debate best avoided for now, with the result that it cannot be effectively used to persuade voters of the ANC’s intentions to reduce inequality.

The good-news story of the manifesto reflects what appears to be a genuine hubris among the ANC’s most senior leaders.

The campaign, usually one of widespread interaction with voters, will likely burst that bubble as South Africans do not usually hold back with their opinions.

 

Nkandla 

Photo: Rico records the latest episode in the battle between Zuma and Malema.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
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Julius Sello Malema (born 3 March 1981) is the leader of the Economic Freedom Fighters, a South African political movement, which he founded in July 2013. He is also a former president of the African National Congress Youth League. Malema was a member of the ANC until his expulsion from the party in April 2012. Malema occupies a notably controversial position in South African public and political life; having risen to prominence with his support for African National Congress president, and later President of South AfricaJacob Zuma. He has been described by both Zuma[ and the Premier of Limpopo Province as the “future leader” of South Africa. Less favourable portraits paint him as a “reckless populist” with the potential to destabilise South Africa and to spark racial conflict.[5]

He was convicted of hate speech in March 2010[6][7][8] and again in September 2011.[9] In November 2011 he was found guilty of sowing divisions within the ANC and, in conjunction with his two-year suspended sentence in May 2010, was suspended from the party for five years.] In 2011, he was also convicted of hate speech after singing the song “Dubula iBunu” (Shoot the Boer). On 4 February 2012 the appeal committee of the African National Congress announced that it found no reason to “vary” a decision of the disciplinary committee taken in 2011,] but did find evidence in aggravation of circumstances, leading them to impose the harsher sentence of expulsion from the ANC. On 25 April 2012 Malema lost an appeal to have his expulsion from the ANC overturned, as this exhausted his final appeal, his expulsion took immediate effect. In September 2012 he was charged with fraud and moneylaundering.[12] He appeared before the Polokwane Magistrates Court in November 2012 to face these charges, plus an additional charge of racketeering. The case was postponed to 23 April 2013, and then to 20 June. The State has proposed the trial date be set for 18 –to 29 November 2013

South African President Jacob Zuma has withdrawn his claim for damages against a Zapiro cartoon published in the Sunday Times of South Africa and agreed to pay half of its legal costs. In the cartoon, Zuma, who was acquitted of a rape charge in 2006, was shown loosening his trousers while since expelled ANC Youth League president Julius Malema, Congress of South African Trade Unions general secretary Zwelinzima Vavi, South African Communist Party general secretary Blade Nzimande and ANC secretary general Gwede Mantashe hold Lady Justice down, saying: “Go for it, boss.”

“President Zuma did the right thing in withdrawing the case. This bodes very well for media freedom,” Dario Milo, who represented the Sunday Times, said. “It is to be hoped that he swiftly withdraws his other 12 live cases against the media. This will send out an important signal that the president respects the right of the media to criticise his conduct.”

The withdrawal ends a four-year saga that began in 2008 when Zuma sued for R4-million in damages to his reputation and R1 million for injury to his dignity. Recently Zuma had reduced his claims against cartoonist Zapiro from R5-million to R100 000 with an apology. The case was set to be heard in the high court today (Monday).

Zuma started proceedings in December 2010 against Avusa, the cartoonist Jonathan “Zapiro” Shapiro and former Sunday Times Editor-in-chief Mondli Makhanya in a summons issued in the South Gauteng High Court in Johannesburg. With Mangaung (the ANC’s elective conference) around the corner, President Zuma’s legal team seem to be doing all they can to avoid a damaging legal showdown with cartoonist Jonathan Shapiro over his Lady Justice rape cartoon.

The dramatic changes to the claim come two years after various delays on the part of Zuma’s lawyers. “It was due to start on Thursday and that date has been in place since February. But they’ve used the same tactic that they’ve used in other cases, where they sue and then they make all kinds of adjustments and changes – it was clear that they didn’t want to go to court ahead of Mangaung,” Shapiro told the M&G. “But we dug our heels in and said we had to get into court and we’re confident of our case.”

There just hasn’t seemed to be a good time for the president to take on Shapiro, or Zapiro, as his pen name goes. With Zuma being pitted against his deputy Kgalema Motlanthe ahead of the ANC’s elective conference in December, he now faces a similarly sensitive period where he would want to avoid a court appearance and the negative attention it might attract.

Photo: Brandan compares the incomparable: Madiba vs Zuma. </p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
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Photo: SA voters: "forced to love but free to flirt...", observes Yalo.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
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The Religious, Spiritual, Humanist Worldview And Inspiring Legacy Of Nelson Mandela

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The Religious, Spiritual, Humanist Worldview And Inspiring Legacy Of Nelson Mandela

Nelson Mandela was one of the most important figures in the 20th century. In his struggle to free South Africa from apartheid, Mandela embodied the power of the human spirit in overcoming systemic oppression, offering hope to millions around the world who continue to strive for a more just and peaceful world. His autobiographyLong Walk To Freedom is the best source for understanding his religious, spiritual and humanist worldview, and most of the quotes in this overview come from that text, unless otherwise stated.

Mandela’s mother was Methodist and Nelson was baptized Methodist too, though his father was a priest in his village:

He did not need to be ordained, for the traditional religion of the Xhosas is characterized by a cosmic wholeness, so that there is little distinction between the sacred and the secular.

He was quite religious for a time, as much of his education was received in Methodist schools. This influence inspired an appreciation for not only the spiritual contributions of the church, but also its importance in advancing the social needs of the people:

The Church was as concerned with this world as the next: I saw that virtually all of the achievements of Africans seemed to have come about through the missionary work of the Church.

However, later in life he also recognized how the church, specifically the Dutch Reform Church, was complicit in oppression of the African people, saying:

The (apartheid) policy was supported by the Dutch Reform Church, which furnished apartheid with its religious underpinnings by suggesting that Afrikaners were God’s chosen people and that blacks were a subservient species. In the Afrikaner’s worldview, apartheid and the church went hand in hand.

Another insight into the religious world view of Mandela came in the discussion of the use of violent vs. non-violent means in the struggle against apartheid. In Long Walk To Freedom, Mandela explains his difference of opinion on non-violence with Mahatma Gandhi’s son, Manilal Gandhi, who was the editor of the newspaper Indian Opinion:

I saw nonviolence in the Gandhian model not as an inviolable principle but as a tactic to be used as the situation demanded. The principle was not so important that the strategy should be used even when it was self- defeating, as Gandhi himself believed. I called for nonviolent protest for as long as it was effective. This view prevailed, despite Manilal Gandhi’s strong objections.

When Mandela did go to jail, it was to be for 27 long years. But according toArchbishop Desmond Tutu speaking to PBS, it was a time of deep growth for him:

I think what happened to him in prison was something that you have to now accept my authority for it, that suffering can do one of two things to a person. It can make you bitter and hard and really resentful of things. Or as it seems to do with very many people–it is like fires of adversity that toughen someone. They make you strong but paradoxically also they make you compassionate, and gentle. I think that that is what happened to him.

The power of this transformation carried over into his worldview. He wrote about universal concern for humanity and justice for all in his autobiography, on the night of his election as President of South Africa:

From the moment the results were in and it was apparent that the ANC was to form the government, I saw my mission as one of preaching reconciliation, of binding the wounds of the country, of engendering trust and confidence. I knew that many people, particularly the minorities, whites, Coloureds, and Indians, would be feeling anxious about the future, and I wanted them to feel secure. I reminded people again and again that the liberation struggle was not a battle against any one group or color, but a fight against a system of repression. At every opportunity, I said all South Africans must now unite and join hands and say we are one country, one nation, one people, marching together into the future.

Perhaps nothing signifies Nelson Mandela’s religious ideals more than the Commission on Truth and Reconciliation that he set up with Archbishop Desmond Tutu. It serves as a testament to the idea that past wrongs should be identified and atoned for, and while not forgotten, they might be forgiven.

Now the challenge is for all of us to protect our democratic gains like the apple of our eye. It is for those who have the means, to contribute to the efforts to repair the damage brought by the past. It is for those who have suffered losses of different kinds and magnitudes to be afforded reparation, proceeding from the premise that freedom and dignity are the real prize that our sacrifices were meant to attain. Free at last, we are all masters of our destiny. A better future depends on all of us lending a hand – your hand, my hand.

In the end, perhaps the idea that best sums up Nelson Mandela’s religious and spiritual outlook is the African concept of Ubuntu. Nelson Mandela himself explained the concept in this video:

A traveller through a country would stop at a village and he didn’t have to ask for food or for water. Once he stops, the people give him food, entertain him. That is one aspect of Ubuntu, but it will have various aspects. Ubuntu does not mean that people should not enrich themselves. The question therefore is: Are you going to do so in order to enable the community around you to be able to improve?

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Nelson Mandela’s Spiritual Quotes

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Nelson Mandela: ’ll Miss You, Madiba: One Jewish South African on the Moment Mandela Walked Free

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President Bill Clinton with Nelson Mandela, Ju...

President Bill Clinton with Nelson Mandela, July 4 1993. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

President Bill Clinton with Nelson Mandela, Ju...

President Bill Clinton with Nelson Mandela, July 4 1993. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: A USSR stamp, 70th Birth Anniversary ...

English: A USSR stamp, 70th Birth Anniversary of Nelson Mandela. Date of issue: 18th July 1988. Designer: B. Ilyukhin. Michel catalogue number: 5853. 10 K. multicoloured. Portrait of Nelson Mandela (fighter for freedom of Africa). Русский: Марка СССР Н. Мандела (1988, ЦФА №5971). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Robben Island South Africa

Robben Island South Africa (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Nelson Mandela Bridge

English: Nelson Mandela Bridge (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Pile of rocks started by Nelson Mande...

English: Pile of rocks started by Nelson Mandela and added to by former prisoners of Robben Island Prison, South Africa (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Português: Brasília - O presidente da África d...

Português: Brasília – O presidente da África do Sul, Nelson Mandela, é recebido na capital federal. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ll Miss You, Madiba: One Jewish South African on the Moment Mandela Walked Free

The country and the world came to a standstill then. Can his death inspire a similar momentum for change?

A picture taken on Feb. 11, 1990, shows Nelson Mandela and his then-wife Winnie raising their fists and saluting cheering crowd upon Mandela’s release from the Victor Verster Prison near Paarl. (Alexander Joe/AFP/Getty Images)

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Nelson Mandela Was a Revolutionary—and These Jews Made Common Cause With Him

With a new biopic commemorating his long struggle against apartheid, remembering the children of European refugees who helped

The Rabbi and Nelson Mandela

What the South African leader, hospitalized in critical condition, taught me

I was a 15-year-old white Jewish schoolboy in the middle of Nowheresville, South Africa, when Nelson Mandela took his long walk to freedom on Feb. 11, 1990. He’d spent 27 years in prison, but I didn’t really know much about what he did to get himself into jail for that long. He certainly wasn’t as famous in my small town as, say, Naas Botha, rugby captain of South Africa’s Springboks. Yet, from his isolated cell on Robben Island, Mandela had come to represent tens of millions of people in South Africa about whom I knew equally little. He was one of the most famous people in the world, and certainly the most powerful man in South Africa. As Mandela left Victor Verster Prison, an event broadcast live around the world, everyone around me watched the TV, waiting to hear what his first words would be. The country, the world, and my little town came to a standstill.

It was probably the first time in the history of South Africa that blacks and whites all stopped what they were doing and did the same thing together: stare at their TV sets, listen to their radios. Perhaps this was the actual historic moment, the silent break in history when masters and slaves alike dropped their tools and lifted their heads to a flickering screen, watching their longstanding power relationship be upended. As I watched Mandela on TV, I wondered if it meant that black kids were going to be allowed into our whites-only school. I wondered what they would be like. Would they play rugby with us, or would they want to play soccer? Could they run faster than us? A more mature version of me would ask if this was, finally, the beginning of South Africa’s redemption.

There was a feeling of change in the air. But not everyone was excited. For some, it was history in the unmaking. A door had been opened into the unknown, and for some, especially in my hometown, it felt like the end of their future, and the sky was about to fall, like the sudden and violent Highveld storms that could break out through a sunny day. The barbarians—I won’t use the K-word tossed around so lightly back then—would be at our gates soon, I heard Afrikaner neighbors in my hometown say.

My hometown. I grew up in Krugersdorp, about an hour west of Johannesburg in what is called the West Rand. For years it was a rough-and-tumble Afrikaner town built on top of deep-level gold, iron, asbestos, and platinum mines. The black townships were on the outskirts, and whites never went anywhere near them. Most of the men in Krugersdorp were either mine bosses, electricians, engineers, plumbers, welders, builders, car mechanics and panel beaters, or they owned hardware stores. Quite a few were ex-military Parabats—members of the 44th Parachute Brigade Special Forces unit, which operated in Angola and South West Africa, now known as Namibia.

It was a hard town: anti-black, anti-Semitic, anti-gay, anti-Greek, anti-Portuguese, anti-anyone who wasn’t a “genuine” Afrikaner. They liked to throw that word around a lot: “Genuine.” They liked Israel—“You guys know how to fight, genuine”—but they hated Jews. It was a town of hard, unhappy men, whose sons played hard, bone-crunching rugby. Krugersdorp folk were into bitterness, boerewors, and brandy—a triple shot of each. Guys would go driving around at night, cruising for a bruising, and God help you if you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was a strange town for a young Jewboy born to Russian parents in Tel Aviv to end up in. My parents left the Soviet Union for Israel in 1969. After 11 years in the Promised Land, my father decided he’d had enough of promises and packed us all up to the next Promised Land—Apartheid South Africa. Perhaps the irony of leaving Jewish persecution in Soviet Russia only to opt for white persecution in South Africa was lost on my father. I don’t know; we never spoke about it. But that’s where I ended up.

Krugersdorp was named after Paul Kruger, the Afrikaner nationalist who led his “Volk” to freedom from the British and established the Transvaal. He was the leader of the Boer resistance against the British in the First Boer War and was president of the South African Republic from 1883 to 1900. Krugersdorp was where Afrikaner commandos gathered to make a blood oath to fight to the bitter end against the British “Rooineks”—rednecks, which was what the Afrikaners called the British, ironically, because anyone else in the world would have called the Afrikaners rednecks, in the American sense of the word. I felt Paul Kruger’s spirit on my bones and knuckles mostly at school; and around town his stern statue stared down at me.

Kruger carved an Afrikaner nation out of the British Empire—a nation that wanted to live separately from the indigenous blacks from whom they took their land. “Separate but equal,” was how they called it, while the rest of the world called it by another name: apartheid. The same Afrikaners then took their freedom and wasted it on establishing a country whose foundations were plunged deep in the thick bile of white superiority—and drenched in rivers of black-red blood. It was a police state where black men would disappear never to be seen or heard from again; or they would “commit suicide” in prison. A country where it was illegal for whites to marry blacks; where a grown black man would call a small white child “master”; and where men like Nelson Mandela were left with no choice but to take up armed struggle against their oppressors. Paul Kruger wanted his people to be free of the British, but he imprisoned the blacks. In time, South Africa became the world’s most reviled pariah state, and Kruger’s people were portrayed in movies like Lethal Weapon just as they were: racist bad guys.

Mandela existed on the complete opposite end of the spectrum of history and myth. He led South Africa’s blacks to freedom from the Afrikaners whom Kruger had liberated from the British. Nelson Mandela wanted South Africa to be free of racism—a Rainbow Nation for all the world to behold and emulate. He knew that for this miracle to work, he could not imprison the whites that had imprisoned the blacks, and him among them. But in Krugersdorp, there were many who didn’t believe Mandela’s message of reconciliation then; and there are still many—whites, blacks, and “coloreds,” as mixed-race South Africans are still known—who have now lost faith in the hope that he offered. South Africa may not have racist legislation anymore, but that doesn’t mean there’s no racism in South Africa today. There is. In all directions.

***

When Mandela walked free, in Krugersdorp and other places like it, there were many “bitter-enders”—those who vowed to fight to the end to keep Afrikaner national aspirations alive. They were spiritually, and physically, prepared for war—a racial bloodbath, Armageddon, a wave of mutilation that was to wash over every white man’s house as revenge for centuries of oppression. A new Battle of Blood River. In those days, like today, South Africa was awash with guns. Everyone had a gun, and even very young boys knew how to point and shoot a .22 rifle with expert skill. There was extreme trepidation and anxiety in my hometown—nobody knew what to expect, and many expected the worst. I think some even welcomed it. These people knew this day would always come, when there would be a final reckoning. Folks were stocking up on guns and ammo. Praise God and pass the ammunition.

They were ultra-nationalists like Clive Derby-Lewis, the man who orchestrated the assassination of South African Communist Party leader Chris Hani in 1993. Derby-Lewis, who through the Hani hit tried to incite a race war and turn back the clock of history, lived down the road from me. The day Hani was shot, the police and army came out en masse and surrounded all the white schools in Krugersdorp, to make sure there were no reprisals. There was terror in the air, but no terror on the ground. The white kids were spared. That was three years after Mandela walked free.