The second termer’s turn to legacy politics

ANTHONY BUTLER: Second term for presidents is best and worst of times

While finally in command, second-term leaders also know their time is running out

First published in Business Day

18 October 2024

President Cyril Ramaphosa. File photo: GCIS

President Cyril Ramaphosa. File photo: GCIS

For a president the start of a second term is the best of times. But it is also the worst of times.

The first termer is on a learning curve. Lacking experience, they are surrounded by the appointees of their predecessor, hemmed in by policy and budget frameworks set by others, and obliged to campaign in a series of elections in which they are a public punchbag.

It is only after re-election by the party, and then 18 months later by the National Assembly, that a president becomes more or less invulnerable to removal. The second-termer is more experienced, surrounded by a chosen team, confident in cabinet and media manipulation, and adroit in deployment of informal institutions.

However, while finally in command at the apex of national power, second-term leaders also know their time is running out. Factions start to consolidate around potential successors. Initially fluid groupings organise around proxy issues and disrupt the government machine.

Media attention is attracted not by the president’s words but by those of the contenders for their office. Newspapers run extended pieces about ANC succession politics, and soon a political journalist declares the president a “lame duck”.

This cycle leads most presidents to become obsessed with their “legacy”. First, they yearn for a “concrete legacy” of tangible accomplishments. In some political systems this is a moment of real danger. Ageing “strongman” leaders such as Russia’s Vladimir Putin or China’s Xi Jinping conceive invasion or the expansion of empire as their legacy to their countries.

In more democratic societies presidents leave concrete legislative or governance legacies by signing all kinds of well-meaning policy changes. They are always aware though, that a successor can equally easily erase these accomplishments.

A second legacy ambition concerns the control of presidential succession, which offers a chimera of enduring direct power. Authoritarian-minded presidents often decide they should succeed themselves. Even in SA’s constitutional democracy, with its parliamentary system and two-term limit for presidents, Thabo Mbeki and his retinue fantasised in 2007 that they could retain the ANC presidency, install a puppet state president, and continue to run the country from Luthuli House.

An embarrassing — perhaps even pitiful — variant of this legacy ambition arises when the president discovers that their favourite child turns out to be the best person to run the country after they are gone. 

A third presidential ambition — we might say the desire for a soft legacy — concerns an intangible and persistent influence that continues to shape politics after the leader has gone. 

In SA we tend to think in terms of the “foundations” beloved of our retired political leaders. These purport to pursue particular political philosophies, but in reality serve primarily as tax avoidance vehicles for party veterans. 

The less tangible sources of influence that endure even after the leader retires are harder to create but more enduring, because they are based on memories enshrined in the minds of public officials and wider populations. 

To take one famous example, US president Franklin Roosevelt introduced programmes in the New Deal that continue to shape debate about entitlement programmes in his country.

Nelson Mandela was an ineffectual president in most respects, but he left behind a set of values and perspectives about the creation of a nation around which contemporary political argument in SA still turns. 

The enduring legacy of a political leader resides not in the laws they fashion or in the successors they try to impose. Rather it turns on whether they express more fundamental ideas and arguments that are revisited and reworked by those engaged in politics in future.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

Demonisation in decline in GNU?

ANTHONY BUTLER: GNU shifts boundaries of acceptable partisan conflict

First published in Business Day and BusinessLive

04 October 2024

The national unity government has not yet brought fresh consensus about public policy, but it has already moved the boundaries of acceptable partisan conflict.

Readers who subscribe to a local community WhatsApp or Facebook group intuitively understand the public policy concept of problem framing. This refers to the way issues in our world are presented by the interested parties that describe it.

There are children sleeping in shop doorways on the main street. One group of community members complains about the litter and mess the sleepers leave behind, the local bylaws they are breaking, their alleged pickpocketing, and the damage they are doing to small business.

But other locals describe the same children in quite different terms. These youngsters have been forced to flee their homes, perhaps driven away by broken families, violence or sexual abuse. They are denied their right to basic healthcare and schooling, and they lack the emotional support and life opportunities that any child deserves. 

One key aspect of these competing definitions of “the problem” is that each attributes blame and responsibility to different actors, and each contains within it a set of implied prescriptions about how the problem should be addressed.

The law-and-order contingent wants the police or a private security company to move on the lawbreakers, stop them from sleeping on the pavements, and so displace the nuisance from the community. But their opponents point to failures in the wider society, cast the children as victims, and demand interventions to ensure that they have access to support services and schooling.

One group wants a law-and-order crackdown; the other demands the creation of a local welfare state. Things turn sour when the argument goes one step further. One group accuses the other of being callous. In return they are denigrated as soft-headed or idealistic. Pretty soon — this being SA — other dimensions come into play: you disagree because you are white or black, a woman or a man — or just plain stupid. The issue itself — the street children — is lost in a self-indulgent flinging of insults. 

Conflicts in national politics can develop similarly, with parties and pressure groups framing problems to build support for remedies that serve their interests. Participants assign blame to individuals or groups for causing harm, accusing them not just of making mistakes but of deliberate and malicious intent. There are three reasons why such national level conflicts can be especially hard to contain. 

Problem framing at national level is professionalised. Policy disagreement in the print and social media reproduces strategic messaging designed by public relations specialists to resonate with particular audiences and, if desired, to demonise partisan opponents. 

The causal complexity of national policy issues is also overwhelming. This complexity collides with the democratic but misleading modern sentiment that “I know what’s going on” — even though I usually don’t. We simple citizens fall back on childish markers of truth and falsity, with the racialists easily swaying us. The power is off? I blame Matshela Koko and you decry André de Ruyter. Sewage in the streets? I accuse Sputla Ramokgopa and you castigate Cilliers Brink. 

Finally, national politics has lacked the face-to-face reality check that contains community conflicts. Local disagreements are the stuff of daily gossip, in shops, trains or on the streets. Argument can sometimes result in violence, but personal interaction tends to soften extremes and build understanding. 

Here, perhaps, the unity government has started to make a real difference. Politicians can no longer demonise their political opponents and attribute malevolent intent to them, while sitting next to them at public events. Such disparagement or disrespect, so natural a few months ago, would now appear embarrassing or even ridiculous. 

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

Why the GNU is making Ramaphosa happy

ANTHONY BUTLER: Ramaphosa seems to be enjoying the GNU ride

First published in Business Day

20 September 2024

by Anthony Butler

President Cyril Ramaphosa. File photo: ALET PRETORIUS/REUTERS

President Cyril Ramaphosa. File photo: ALET PRETORIUS/REUTERS

President Cyril Ramaphosa gives the impression that he is enjoying presidential office for the first time. On the face of it, this is surprising. After all, the ANC has suffered a decline of electoral fortunes under his leadership. 

There are perhaps three reasons for Ramaphosa’s seeming contentment. Even his many critics accept that he has played a political blinder since the elections. His post-election speech at the Electoral Commission results centre in Midrand at the start of June proclaimed that “our people expect all parties to work together within the framework of our constitution and address whatever challenges we encounter peacefully and in accordance with the prescripts of our constitution and the rule of law”. 

The government of national unity (GNU) conceit unveiled soon afterwards was well understood by senior ANC and IFP politicians who were involved in Nelson Mandela’s GNU. One DA leader had even written an extended analysis of the benefits of this first iteration. While these parties had prepared carefully for GNU, the EFF and MK party evidently had not. 

EFF leader Julius Malema’s sartorial conversion in 2024, swapping red T-shirts for tailored business suits, suggests he misread tentative offers of high office emanating from ANC brokers. That he insisted on the removal of Ramaphosa as a precondition for participation in a coalition deal indicates he was disastrously misled. The MK party’s anti-constitutionalist programme likewise ruled it out of the GNU on the terms that Ramaphosa so carefully elaborated. 

The president made the GNU palatable to a wider constituency in the ANC in an underhand but also ingenious manner by ignoring the terms of the statement of intent that supposedly governed it. He shamelessly applied non-functional but decorative fig leaves such as Gayton Mackenzie, Patricia de Lille and Bantu Holomisa to cover the embarrassing extremities of the grand coalition. 

The second factor behind Ramaphosa’s good cheer may be the simplification of ANC internal management the election has brought. MK and the EFF have attracted politicians with legal difficulties, and spokespeople with complex psychological challenges, each of whom would otherwise be making Ramaphosa’s life difficult inside the ANC. It is arguably better to have Mzwanele Manyi or Carl Niehaus inside the tent pissing out than outside pissing in, but it is surely better still to have them on a different campsite altogether. 

A third reason for the president’s newly placid demeanour may be a fresh chance to shape policy somewhat freed from vested interests in the ANC’s tripartite alliance. On economic policy, the SACP now looks even more ridiculous than is customary because its general secretary has been berating a GNU in which its own leaders are participating at ministerial level. 

The Basic Education Laws Amendment Bill that was recently signed into law may be pitifully inadequate — it ignores performance measurement and union-linked corruption — but it has one consequential element: muddying school governing body control over language policy.

Any fair-minded observer knows there are schools that use language as an instrument of racial exclusion. But we have also seen racial populists such as Gauteng premier Panyaza Lesufi building political capital by exploiting the predicament of black parents. 

Regarding National Health Insurance, in which current symbolic policy reflects the interests of ANC ministers, unions and profiteers, the opposition has prioritised the demands of insurance and hospital companies and a narrow band of private health beneficiaries.

It is not impossible at all that the GNU will bring in pragmatic compromises that improve overall outcomes in both cases, and perhaps — if the coalition survives — in many others besides.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

The limitations of Gamson’s Law

ANTHONY BUTLER: Weighing the DA’s slice of the unity government

Some party members are unhappy with GNU balance of power, but a closer breakdown is warranted

First published in Business Day

26 JULY 2024

ANTHONY BUTLER

We all know ANC activists who have noisily condemned the government of national unity (GNU). But DA supporters have more quietly, but equally vehemently, expressed discontent with the grand coalition.

Such scepticism is nothing new. A July 2022 Social Research Foundation poll suggested that two-thirds of ANC voters would “compromise party values … for the sake of creating a stable coalition”. Only four out of 10 DA voters were happy to do so.

Making matters worse is a perception that the ANC has benefited most from the deal. The key evidence presented by DA critics is a lack of proportionality in the allocation of meaningful ministerial positions.

American social scientist William Gamson first suggested in 1961 that parties making coalition deals expect the “payoff” from the deal to be proportional to the “resources” they bring to it. A decade later, European political scientists recast this insight as “Gamson’s Law”: the key resource parties possess — the proportion of seats they hold in the legislature — will closely match the share of ministerial portfolios they secure.

There have not been many laws in political science, and the few that have emerged have eventually turned out to be wrong. It was therefore a happy surprise for proponents of Gamson’s Law that numerous empirical studies of coalition formation, in the years that followed, confirmed that parties reliably secured ministerial positions in proportion to the legislative seats they held.

The absence of this relationship in SA has been a key basis for DA member discontent. The parties in the GNU together hold 287 seats out of the total 400 in the national assembly. The new government includes 34 cabinet ministers and 38 deputy ministers.

The ANC secured 159 seats in the National Assembly, and this translated to 22 cabinet positions and 31 deputy ministerial positions. In percentage terms, 55% of GNU seats led to 65% of cabinet positions and 82% of deputy ministerial positions.

The DA secured 87 seats in parliament but was allocated only six cabinet posts and five deputy ministerial positions. A total of 30% of GNU seats brought just 18% of cabinet portfolios and 13% of deputy ministerial positions. Adding insult to injury, many DA activists believe the party has been deprived of the most powerful and prestigious portfolios, notably in foreign affairs and the economy cluster.

However, there are four considerations DA activists should bear in mind before they condemn their negotiating team. The first is that Gamson’s Law derives from the experiences of parliamentary systems in Western Europe. A landmark study published earlier in 2024 in European Political Science Review demonstrated that it “does not travel especially well” across constitutional types or parts of the world.

Second, the biggest cause of disproportion is deputy ministerial portfolios that are mostly packed with ANC hacks, but these ministers have strictly limited powers. And third, “payoff” must be understood negatively as well as positively. The DA has steered clear of “no-win” departments and “ministerial graveyards”. It has also minimised its exposure to potential coalition collapse by deploying mostly inconsequential leaders to the executive. Four of the six DA cabinet ministers — Siviwe Gwarube, Solly Malatsi, Leon Schreiber and Dean Macpherson — are political toddlers in their 30s.

Finally, payoff isn’t just about bums on seats round the cabinet table. Long-standing demands from the DA and the IFP for devolution of powers to provinces and metropolitan authorities are likely to materialise across several sectors. The broad principle of “sufficient consensus” set out in the GNU’s founding statement of intent meanwhile places an effective policy veto in DA hands.

Sceptical activists doubtless need persuading about the merits of the coalition deal. However, the payoffs from the GNU are not so unbalanced so as to bring any early DA rebellion against it.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

A period of minority government might still be needed

ANTHONY BUTLER: Brinkmanship over cabinet posts shows GNU is not yet government

Pact provides shared framework for parties to interact constructively and for citizens to adapt to unfamiliar terrain

First published in Business Day

28 JUNE 2024

In the face of last-minute brinkmanship over cabinet posts we have been reminded once again that the government of national unity (GNU) is not yet a government at all.

A GNU is rather a useful idea, one that exists only because a particular group of people have decided it does. It provides a shared framework for parties to interact constructively with each other and for citizens to adapt to an unfamiliar political terrain.

The GNU’s foundational “statement of intent” included an agreement that its composition “shall be discussed and agreed among the existing parties, whenever new parties desire to be part of the GNU”. This basic commitment was not respected, which provided an early reminder that the statement is not binding. It is clear that a GNU can quickly disappear in a puff of smoke.

The idea of a GNU has been most attractive to the bigger parties involved. The ANC doesn’t have to admit it lost; instead it has been “sent a message” to work with others. The DA can participate in national government despite a stagnant support base. And the IFP can govern a province without actually having to win it.

On matters of process, the GNU commits to the magical logic of “sufficient consensus”, which arises when “parties to the GNU representing 60% of seats in the National Assembly agree”. This means the ANC and DA both have an effective veto — a huge ANC concession — so long, of course, as the statement of intent is respected, and the parties can agree precisely which kinds of decisions require cross-party consensus.

If the sharing out of ministerial portfolios gets back on track, the far harder part — reaching detailed agreement on policy — still lies ahead. Once a cabinet is sworn in there will be a policy lekgotla, followed by “an all-inclusive national dialogue” in which parties, civil society, labour and business will supposedly forge “a national social compact”. Such road-signs point towards the all-too-familiar national policy quagmire.

Moreover, the smaller parties remain a problem, adding needless complexity and mostly being distinguished by the personalities of their leaders rather than by any potential contribution they might make. Complexity can undermine coalition stability, but these parties also provide the essential “national unity” fig leaf any viable coalition now needs.

The good news is that the resource-seeking and grievance-based parties are on the outside. There has been an early commitment to defend constitutionalism, the current governance framework and institutional innovations such as Operation Vulindlela. Real policy overlap exists between the broad reform factions of the ANC, DA and IFP.

If the DA temporarily withdraws from the GNU negotiations, the basic arithmetic will not change. The ANC will be back where it began: with an unpalatable — hopefully impossible — choice between the EFF and MK. President Cyril Ramaphosa will probably be forced to form a minority government, and economic turbulence and party donor pressures will redouble.

Meanwhile, the tortuous negotiations have helped many voters to work through their confusion and pain. While there is little evidence to support the famous theory that there are five stages of grief, there has been a lot of denial and anger, and accusations and betrayal, on display.

Parties desperate to avoid alienation of their supporters, and possible desertion of their activists, have been bought time by the GNU. Weeks of negotiation have allowed party foot soldiers and shocked citizens to progress far towards acceptance that we live in a new political world.

Some of them, sadly, may need longer. But amid a national crisis the country cannot afford a prolonged stalemate.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

Generalissimo Lesufi

ANTHONY BUTLER: AmaWinde just not the same as amaPanyaza

Gauteng premier looks much more presidential and ready for a military green bean coup

 First published in Business Day

23 FEBRUARY 2024

A lot of unfair criticism has been levelled at Panyaza Lesufi this week. On Monday the visionary Gauteng premier delivered a majestic state of the province address, radiating the quiet authority one associates with a president.

However, his detractors complain that his promises of new housing, private hospitals and job creation are unrealistic. Some even liken him to the inmate of a psychological facility, who suffers from the delusion that he has just seized power through a military coup.

This latter complaint derives in part from the presence at the venue of 7,000 “crime prevention wardens” — popularly known as amaPanyaza — resplendent in quasi-military green uniforms and dubbed “military veterans” by the caudillo. Counter-revolutionary forces may have robbed these recruits of automatic rifles, but Lesufi can now provide them with air support from “the Gauteng Air Wing unit”.

While this policing model reminds some critics of the Ciskei Defence Force of the 1980s, there is merit to Lesufi’s proposals. After all, there are high levels of violent and property crime in Gauteng — only some of it committed by ANC politicians — and the national police service has failed to curtail it.

Lesufi came under fire from EFF Gauteng deputy chairperson Phillip Makwala, who memorably described the wardens as “green beans”. But EFF commissars in red uniforms and berets can scarcely complain about the militarisation of society.

Criticism from the DA is also hard to take, not least because Western Cape premier Alan Winde also deploys thousands of law enforcement officers to crime hotspots, where they are backed up by data analytics, policing control centres and surveillance technology. Worse still, the amaWinde are now reportedly working hand in glove with the military wing of the DA, known as Fidelity ADT.

But despite these superficial parallels between parties there are three reasons to be uniquely fearful of Lesufi’s militarised policing initiatives. First, the premier has been talking absolute nonsense about every sector of provincial government. Statistical analysis suggests a low probability that he is right about policing.

Second, initiatives in the Western Cape are backed by broad agreement between the provincial government and the City of Cape Town, where mayor Geordin Hill-Lewis has taken the lead in the devolution of policing. In addition to law enforcement officers jointly funded with the province, Cape Town has 600 metro police officers, 690 traffic officers and specialised units for tactical response, environmental enforcement, gang and drug matters and metal theft, among others.

The city has invested in body cameras, dash cams, drones and an emergency police incident control centre. The fact that city and province are governed by the same party has proved a great boon to co-operation and co-ordination.

The situation is quite different in Gauteng, where Johannesburg public safety MMC Mgcini Tshwaku — an EFF cadre — accused Lesufi of trying to take credit for a CCTV initiative that originated in the city. Although it is difficult to get at the truth, both province and city have evidently made deals with a private company, VumaCam, which can monitor crime hotspots across the province.

While the EFF and ANC are pretending to fight — who will vote for the EFF if they know it is just a provincial ANC faction? — this problem may be resolved in a post-election sharing of the tenders (technically known as a “provincial coalition government”).

The third key point of difference is that it is not easy to imagine Winde or Hill-Lewis dressed up in a military uniform — at least not in public. As for Lesufi, nobody would be surprised if he arrived at the next state of the province event perched on the turret of a battle tank.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.

Why manifestos matter

ANTHONY BUTLER: Promises, promises: it’s party manifesto season again

Three reasons to read manifestos — but cautiously and in full recognition of their limitations

26 JANUARY 2024

First published in Business Day

As SA enters party manifesto season, many of the journalists and academics who are paid to study politics have been wondering whether they really need to read them.       

After all, only a tiny minority of citizens ever leaf through the pages of a manifesto. Party platforms tend to be long on good intentions but short on detail. Because they are the outcome of internal party compromises, they contain promises that the party does not intend to keep and goals it does not know how to realise.

Campaigning politicians understandably tell electors what they want to hear. They run into trouble pretty quickly when they write down what they really think. In one famous cautionary tale from 1983, the endearing but shambolic leader of Britain’s Labour Party, Michael Foot, decided to incorporate the actual policy resolutions adopted at the party’s national conference into the manifesto.

These included unilateral nuclear disarmament, higher taxes, withdrawal from the European Community and widespread nationalisation. One of the party’s MPs described the manifesto as “the longest suicide note in history”. This judgment proved correct on election day.

For its part, the ANC has a dangerous habit of setting out some concrete goals. Its 2019 manifesto, for example, promised that freight would be shifted from road to rail, clean water would reach all citizens, local government finances would be transformed and “decisive action” would be taken against corruption. In the light of what actually transpired we can expect clear targets to be replaced by vague generalities this year.

Rise Mzansi has already got our manifesto season off to a hilarious start. There is much to admire about the new movement and its leader. But the party for some reason insists that its manifesto was written by the people themselves — “an outcome of almost a year of listening and discussion with hundreds of communities across our land”. It is not clear who is expected to believe this claim.

Despite their limitations, we should nonetheless read manifestos. First, citizens view an election win as a “mandate” for implementing a manifesto. While this claim is problematic — voters can choose only one party and they may not agree with all of its policies — this is a key element of democracy.

Second, manifestos are important benchmarks for accountability. Given citizens’ short attention spans and politicians’ unreliable memories, a party platform is essential for assessing if a party has done what it promised — or anywhere close. Door-to-door campaigning and targeted social media communications now allow differentiated campaign messages — or lies — to be disseminated to individual voters.

There is a shift under way in democratic societies towards strategic deception. The traditional media can no longer perform their traditional role as gatekeeper of the truth because of the volume of information on social media platforms and a decline in citizens’ deference to expert and media authority. A manifesto document is now the only place in which the party’s values and central policy can be explored by all citizens together.

Third, there is evidence that the stability of coalitions is related to the policy congruence of the parties that make it up. In the possible absence of a majority victor this May, party manifestos — once they are appropriately interpreted — are an important tool for predicting the likelihood of enduring coalitions.

We evidently need to read manifestos cautiously and in full recognition of their limitations. Some parties do not seem to believe what they say — who believes the DA’s policies on social grants and public health, for example? Other parties offer no indication whatsoever that they know how to accomplish their supposed goals (the EFF?).

However, citizens remain capable of making a judgment about the credibility of such parties’ manifesto pledges.

• Butler teaches public policy at the University of Cape Town.