CR’s ‘smoke and mirrors’ tapdance unmasked

THE African Proverb, “he who digs a grave for his enemy might as well be digging one for himself”, appropriately paraphrases President Cyril Ramaphosa’s predicament in the unfolding drama of Phala Phala. Ramaphosa stands accused of having acted unlawfully in handling the burglary at his Phala Phala game farm in February 2020.

Before the scandal surfaced, Ramaphosa had assiduously portrayed himself as a crusader against corruption. He was seen as a tireless advocate for accountability and transparency.

In crafting this image of himself, Ramaphosa enlisted the services of groupings that he could fool all the time. Discerning observers could not be swayed by Ramaphosa’s escapades of smoke and mirrors. This week, Ramaphosa joins the ranks of the damned.

The findings of Parliament’s Section 89 independent panel, headed by former Chief Justice Sandile Ngcobo and tasked with investigating whether sufficient evidence exists to show that the president: (i) committed a serious violation of the constitution or law; [or] (ii) committed serious misconduct”, are unequivocal – Ramaphosa is as guilty as hell.

Major news channels across the world echoed coverage by an international television station, Al Jareeza, stating that the “alleged cover-up has tarnished the president’s reputation and overshadowed his bid for re-election at the helm of the ruling African National Congress (ANC) party”. There is no doubt that he has brought the ANC and the country into serious disrepute.

If truth be told, this is not the first time Ramaphosa found himself in a sticky situation. He was lucky that his shenanigans were underplayed by the mainstream media. Courts have also been helpful in ensuring that some of these do not see the light of day.

In dealing with the Phala Phala scandal, Ramaphosa upped the ante by invoking all possible strategies and tactics to ensure that he escaped accountability. His submission to the Section 89 independent panel ranks as a masterpiece of deception, obfuscation, obscurantism and plausible deniability.

As a last resort, he sought to find a fall guy. When quizzed about his role in the handling of the burglary, Ramaphosa hid behind “due process”. This proved to be a deceptive tactic of buying time to cover his tracks.

Pleading ignorance was not far away. In his submission to the panel, Ramaphosa argued: “I have no personal knowledge regarding the theft itself. Similarly, I have no knowledge or suspicion, and cannot reasonably be expected to have the knowledge, of the perpetrators. Therefore, I submit that there was no duty on me to report the theft in terms of section 34 of the Precca (Prevention and Combating of Corrupt Activities Act).”

Having considered all the submissions on both sides, the panel came to a different determination. It argued that there was sufficient information to

suggest, prima facie, “that the president violated section 34(1) read with section 34(2) of Precca.” The determination by this weighty panel leaves little room for the National Prosecuting Authority but to press charges against Ramaphosa.

The “I saw nothing, I heard nothing” tactic is Ramaphosa’s lamentation. When questioned about the CR17 campaign, he pretended to be ignorant of who the funders of his campaign were.

However, his claim of being oblivious to the facts did not prevent him from rushing to the courts to ensure that the identities of the funders are not known. We are made to believe that this was for the public and greater good.

The same applies to his claims of having been a mere bystander during his tenure as deputy president of the country. He saw nothing, heard nothing and, as a result, did nothing. Well, that explains why he is perpetually shocked.

It needs emphasising that were it not

for former head of the country’s State Security Agency Arthur Fraser, the Phala Phala matter would not have seen the light of day, in the same way that the country is clueless about the identity of Ramaphosa’s 2017 campaign funders.

The Presidency seems to believe in the dictum “thou shall not tell”. When grilled about why this burglary was not reported, the initial argument was that this was done in order not to scare the neighbours. The story has been shifting since then.

In those instances where Ramaphosa was willing to volunteer information, he did himself a disfavour. To address the increasing noise around Phala Phala, Ramaphosa thought it wise to calm a seemingly concerned gathering.

He averred: “I would like to say that I’m a farmer. I am in the cattle business and the game business. And through that business, which has been declared in Parliament and all over, I buy and

I sell animals. Sometimes people buy these animals – I do it yes, though, the sales are sometimes through cash or sometimes through transfers… And so this that is being reported was a clear business transaction of selling animals.”

Ramaphosa did not end there. In an address to Ankole farmers, he excitedly told his audience that the job of being a president of South Africa was “just a nice one to have”. His passion lay in being the president of the Ankole society.

The admissions placed him on the wrong side of the Constitution’s Section 96 (a) which forbids members of Cabinet from undertaking any other paid work.

Ramaphosa was also found to be in contravention of 96(b) which prohibits Cabinet members from acting “in any way that is inconsistent with their office, or expose themselves to any situation involving the risk of a conflict between their official responsibilities and private interests.”

The muddle is far bigger than Nkandla. In the Nkandla matter, former president Jacob Zuma was found to have unduly benefited in that “a number of the measures, including buildings and other items constructed and installed by the (Department of Public Works) at the president’s private residence went beyond what was reasonably required for his security”.

Whereas the Nkandla matter was about undue benefit, the Phala Phala matter is about the possibility of the violation of several laws. In the case of Nkandla, the Constitutional Court ruled that to “find oneself on the wrong side of section 96, all that needs to be proven is a risk. It does not even have to materialise.”

In the case of Ramaphosa, the panel found several instances in which the president could be accused of having acted in a manner that was inconsistent with the constitutionally stipulated

conduct. One such instance is that Ramaphosa “abused his position as head of state to have the matter investigated and seeking the assistance of the Namibian president to apprehend a suspect”.

It appears Ramaphosa has forgotten his own words: “I have a sense of integrity to step out of the way to say I’m conflicted on this and I have ingrained that in the way I do things, so that fingers should not be pointed at one about favouring oneself when you are conflicted.” Integrity is not one of his strong attributes.

The day of reckoning has come at the most inconvenient time for Ramaphosa. But it is an opportune moment for the ANC to choose between protecting the interests of one person or those of the masses who are languishing in squalid and desperate conditions.

Ramaphosa

invoked all possible

strategies and tactics to ensure that

he escaped accountability. His submission to the panel

ranks as a masterpiece of deception,

obfuscation, obscurantism and plausible

deniability. Sipho Seepe