The Conspiratorial Politics Of Thabo Mbeki

James Hamill

LAST month the South African President visited Britain. For him the receptions at Buckingham Palace and 10 Downing Street were no doubt a welcome break from domestic turmoil. In April 2001, the first serious cracks appeared in the previously solid edifice of South Africa's ruling African National Congress (ANC). The event shattering the surface calm was the statement by Steve Tshwete, the Minister of Safety and Security and a close ally of President Thabo Mbeki, that investigations were ongoing into a 'plot' within the organisation to remove Mbeki from power and potentially cause him 'physical harm'. Those identified as the ringleaders of the conspiracy were three senior ANC figures now operating at the intersection of the worlds of politics and business -- Cyril Ramaphosa, Tokyo Sexwale, and Matthews Phosa. Despite the chronic lack of substance, the allegations were nonetheless interesting in that they exposed to public scrutiny the normally subterranean power plays within the ANC and they helped to cast lig ht on both Mbeki's leadership style and the wider political culture he has helped foster. Tensions are now beginning to manifest themselves throughout the ruling party, tensions in which personal, historical and ideological antagonisms frequently overlap and, in the absence of the unifying figure of Nelson Mandela, these may prove increasingly difficult to contain. This article considers the nature of the 'plot' allegations and the motivation of the current ANC leadership in lashing out in this fashion at enemies both real and imagined.

Plots and Rumours of Plots

The first public indication of unease within ANC ranks at Mbeki's leadership came in February when the organisation's National Executive Committee (NEC) described the various campaigns being mounted against Mbeki and his government as a 'total onslaught', a phrase originally popularised by the apartheid government of P. W. Botha -- hardly the most auspicious precedent. This was followed in March by another minor intrigue when the ANC's National Working Committee (which is responsible for the day-to-day administration of the organisation) sent a delegation to North-West province whose premier, Popo Molefe, has an antagonistic relationship with Mbeki. The delegation apparently found evidence that an 'anonymous pamphlet' was circulating among ANC members and structures in North-West province supporting the idea of 'one president, one term', which effectively amounted to a call for Mbeki to stand down when his term of office expires in 2004. The ANC's full NEC then met again from 24-26 March and although the 'ano nymous pamphlet' was not formally discussed it soon became clear that it had rattled the leadership and had contributed to an increasingly suspicious and poisonous atmosphere. The official statement issued at the conclusion of the meeting spoke of 'concerted efforts' to sow disunity and to undermine Mbeki, efforts which embraced critical media reports, whispering campaigns, and anonymous pamphlets. One week later, in early April, came the most significant development to date. The Deputy President, Jacob Zuma, issued an unsolicited statement in which he made it clear that he had no plans to challenge Mbeki for the ANC leadership and, in effect, the presidency. This statement came as a surprise to most ordinary South Africans for whom a Zuma challenge to Mbeki had always been disregarded as a serious possibility. The very fact that Zuma had issued, or, as seems more likely, had been pressed to issue, this declaration of loyalty pointed to considerable turmoil at the highest levels of the ANC and his statement o nly served to encourage further speculation and rumour about Mbeki's leadership, the strength of his position within the organisation, and the nature of his relationship with some of his senior colleagues. In the course of his protestation of loyalty, Zuma suggested that 'some elements' were trying to isolate the President and to 'create the impression that some of his most trusted comrades are plotting against him'. The Deputy President was obviously anxious to distance himself from such 'elements', particularly as he had been the target of a prolonged whispering campaign the previous year seeking to link him to anti-Mbeki plotting.

Although this was certainly an interesting sequence of events, they proved to be little more than a curtain raiser to what followed. On the 22 April, the Johannesburg-based Sunday Times reported that a police investigation was underway into claims that President Mbeki was in actual 'physical danger' from other high profile ANC leaders who were plotting to oust him. Steve Tshwete, the Minister of Safety and Security and widely held to be Mbeki's personal troubleshooter, told the newspaper that police intelligence units were investigating allegations of a conspiracy. As the minister charged with the task of defending state security, he claimed it was his responsibility to ensure that these intrigues did not 'culminate in something ugly'. He indicated that certain 'clandestine activities' had been detected and monitored since the previous year although he was unwilling to disclose the names of those involved at that stage. On 24 April, however, the government announced, again via Tshwete, that it had ordered th e investigation of three leading ANC figures, each of whom was now carrying out a career in the expanding world of black business: Cyril Ramaphosa, the former ANC Secretary-General and the movement's senior negotiator with the de Klerk government, Tokyo Sexwale, the former premier of Gauteng province (incorporating Johannesburg and Pretoria), and Matthews Phosa, the former premier of Mpumalanga province. The three were accused of 'dispensing misinformation about the President' presumably in a calculated bid to undermine his political standing thus creating a climate in which his leadership could be legitimately and effectively challenged at the ANC's national conference in December 2002 (the person elected at that conference as ANC leader will automatically become the party's presidential candidate in 2004).

However, it was also alleged that this misinformation was potentially threatening to Mbeki's safety. This 'misinformation' supposedly included attempts to fuel the rumour that Mbeki was implicated in the 1993 murder of Chris Hani, a leading ANC figure and, at the time of his death, the General Secretary of the South African Communist Party. Hani was a legendary figure who was lionised in the black townships, particularly by the youth, and Tshwete argued that such a rumour 'set the president up to be harmed as Hani was loved by the people'. (Guardian, 26 April) The misinformation peddled by 'ambitious and power-hungry individuals', to use the description of the presidential spokesman Smuts Ngonyama, also involved the planting of a range of 'negative media stories' about Mbeki. This was clearly a reference to discussion in the South African media about Mbeki's alleged 'womanising', in particular the comments made on South African radio on 8 April by Max du Preez, an Afrikaner journalist with a distinguished tr ack record of opposition to apartheid. He had claimed that talk of Mbeki's 'womanising' was commonplace within the ANC and in 'black high society' more generally. These comments generated a fierce counter-attack in which du Preez was predictably accused of 'racism' -- now virtually a reflex response of the ANC hierarchy to all criticism -- and of 'unprecedented vitriol' in 'declaring war' on the party and government. Given the accusations that were subsequently to be levelled against Ramaphosa and Co, the implication was that, by publicising such rumours, du Preez was acting as a willing agent for the broader anti-Mbeki conspiracy (this can be dismissed as absurd given du Preez's history which is one of outstanding commitment to free and independent journalism; indeed, he was the journalist who exposed the existence of state run death squads at the end of the P. W. Botha era in the 1980s). Some ANC provincial structures, apparently forgetting or ignoring the guarantees of free speech contained within the 1996 constitution, even floated the possibility of new legislation which, in classic Stalinist style, would seek to outlaw any attempt to 'insult the president'. For Tshwete, however, the issue was not that individuals were seeking the presidency but the manner in which their ambitions were being pursued. He stated:

If people want to be President, that's fine. There are ANC structures ... where they can canvass properly. They must not do things in a sinister and clandestine way. If they feel the President should only serve one term, it needs to be discussed in the appropriate forums. They won't get to be President by destabilising the organisation through this mischief-making course. (Sunday Times, South Africa, 22 April)

The idea that Tshwete might be acting independently, and perhaps over zealously, in defence of his political patron was quickly disproved when President Mbeki appeared on South African television on the same day to urge anyone with information about such plotting to come forward and he also claimed that a section of business opinion was actively looking to fund an alternative to him. In words almost identical to those used by Tshwete (suggesting their response had been carefully synchronised), he stated that 'some people want to be President of South Africa. That's fine. The matter that's arising is the manner in which people pursue their ambitions'. (The Guardian, 26 April)

A Discredited Plot

Given the seriousness of these allegations it was surprising just how empty the 'case' against the three supposed plotters proved to be. Ramaphosa privately dismissed the charges but chose not to dignify them with a public rebuttal, detailed or otherwise. Matthews Phosa was less circumspect when he denounced the allegations as 'rubbish', 'crazy', and a 'provocation' while Tokyo Sexwale dismissed them as 'complete hogwash'. (The Guardian, 26 April) The only aspect giving the accusations any remote plausibility was the fact that all three leaders had clashed with Mbeki in the past and had lost out to him in intra-ANC feuding and jostling for position. Ramaphosa had sought the Deputy-Presidency in 1994 but, despite securing Nelson Mandela's backing for the position, the movement as a whole had opted for Mbeki. In response to this perceived snub, Ramaphosa refused a Cabinet seat and in 1996, after completing his work as chair of the Constitutional Assembly, he withdrew -- most commentators would say strategically -- from the political front-line. He subsequently became one of the leading luminaries in the black business world and chair of the Black Economic Empowerment Commission (BEEC) whilst still retaining a presence within the ANC. For Ramaphosa at least this was a case of deja vu. In 2000 he had been forced to deny rumours linking him with a US-inspired plot to remove Mbeki and, as a 'loyal and disciplined member of the ANC', he had reaffirmed his support for the President and the government. (The Independent, 26 April) Sexwale, the premier of Gauteng province between 1994 and 1997, is a charismatic figure -- albeit something of a self-publicist with a tendency to overreach politically -- although his popularity with the rank-and-file was hardly likely to improve his relationship with Mbeki. His removal as premier appears to have been deliberately engineered to prevent him developing Gauteng into a power base from which to promote his national leadership aspirations. He too has taken the route into the business world. Phosa was the premier of Mpumalanga and he alienated the ANC hierarchy by announcing that he would run for the ANC deputy-presidency in December 1997 against Jacob Zuma, Mbeki's preferred candidate. The party leadership made its disapproval obvious and after Phosa was 'persuaded' to withdraw from the race he soon found himself ousted as the premier of Mpumalanga, presumably as disciplinary retribution. The leadership was, however, able to point to the maladministration and allegations of corruption that had characterised Phosa's stewardship of the province as justification for this course of action.

Within days the case against the three began to unravel when it emerged that the chief, indeed sole, 'witness' for the prosecution was James Nkambule, a former ANC Youth League official who is currently suspended from the organisation as he faces 77 charges of embezzlement and fraud in the Mpumalanga province 'Parks Board scandal'. Nkambule is a fierce opponent of Matthews Phosa dating from the latter's time as premier of Mpumalanga, a province riven by ANC internecine feuding after 1994. Nkambule had provided the police with a number of sworn affidavits supposedly fleshing out the details of the conspiracy but there was a basic lack of real evidence within them. Not surprisingly, given their adversarial relationship, he identified Phosa as the orchestrator of the conspiracy but could provide no evidence of any plans to 'physically harm' Mbeki, or any substantive proof of meetings between Phosa, Ramaphosa and Sexwale, merely an assumption that they were working together, and through the press, to discredit M beki. The only tenuous link Nkambule was able to establish with violence was his contention that any misinformation project might provide an individual or individuals with the incentive to attempt to harm the President. Moreover, the charge that the three would risk squandering valuable political capital by attempting to link Mbeki to the assassination of Chris Hani is devoid of credibility. Hani's assassination was investigated thoroughly, first by the courts and then by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) between 1996 and 1998 and at no stage did any 'Mbeki link' emerge. Indeed, the white right-wing extremists convicted of Hani's murder (the Conservative Party's Clive Derby-Lewis and the Polish immigrant, Janusz Walluz) failed to make any connection to Mbeki, even though establishing such a link would undoubtedly have improved their prospects of securing amnesty before the TRC.

The attempt by the ANC leadership to pass off this rather miserable concoction of untruths, suspicions and naked personal enmities as evidence of a major conspiracy invited (and duly received) widespread ridicule, Indeed, far from presenting Mbeki as a victim, the episode actually generated sympathy for the three accused and further eroded the President's standing at home and abroad -- yet another setback for a president whose two years in office have been punctuated by a series of crises and miscalculations across the entire spectrum of government decision making.

Explaining Mbeki's Behaviour

Given the paucity of evidence against the three named individuals, the attention of the South African media swiftly turned from debating the merits of the allegations to a detailed consideration of Mbeki's motives in allowing such a shallow exercise to bear the 'imprimatur of his approval', to quote the South African Financial Mail. (4 May 2001) In any discussion of Mbeki's motivation in sanctioning this enterprise, two factors appear to be of overriding importance. The first is a presidential political mindset in which suspicion, conspiracy theories, an extreme sensitivity to criticism, and even paranoia are the most salient characteristics. Many attribute this mindset to the legacy of decades of ANC exile politics in which the organisation's leadership, driven by the very real fear of enemy penetration and assassination, operated in a secretive, Byzantine atmosphere which has fundamentally shaped -- or, perhaps more accurately, has warped -- its attitude to politics. There is little doubt that the political culture of the exiled leadership (among whom Mbeki was, of course, a leading figure) has spilled over into the post-liberation era, leading to what one source has described as a 'presidency consumed by suspicion of even well-founded criticism and fear of a challenge to Mbeki's leadership'. (Guardian, 24 April) It is hardly coincidental that the accusations were directed at those who were internal leaders during 'the struggle' and who therefore operated outside of the close -- even closed -- networks of the exiled leadership and with whom the same bonds of trust and loyalty have not been formed (although the pressure applied to the Deputy President, Jacob Zuma, indicates that ties forged during the exile years are no longer a cast-iron guarantee that Mbeki's favour will be retained).

Although that insecurity and capacity for conspiracy theory expressed itself on this occasion in an attack on perceived ANC rivals, the last twelve months have also witnessed a growing barrage of accusations by Mbeki's entourage that the president has been targeted by, among others, the CIA, Western drug companies, the European Union, and individual Western governments. In a speech betraying all the symptoms of advanced paranoia, Thenjiwe Mthintso, the ANC's deputy secretary-general, accused these external forces of using issues such as the AIDS crisis and the Zimbabwe situation as 'entry points to discredit the President' (The Guardian, 24 April) as they wish to show that Africans are incapable of orderly government and because they are supposedly alarmed at Mbeki's attempt to restructure international trading and financial institutions to facilitate greater 'Southern' influence (an overblown charge which chooses to overlook the strong Western support for Mbeki's conservative macro-economic policies and his close relations with the US in particular). Considered in this broader context then, the plot allegations are not an aberration -- they are not some horribly misconceived episode -- but rather they reflect a pattern and are merely the latest manifestation of what has become a disturbing and entrenched feature of Mbeki's political practice.

Second, the allegations suggest that Mbeki is acutely aware that his first two years in office have not fallen far short of abject failure. That underlying reality has caused disquiet in the ANC to reach unprecedented levels thereby increasing Mbeki's political vulnerability and exposing him to perfectly legitimate criticism from within the party and allied organisations. Mbeki recognises that he is not a revered leader. He lacks the natural authority and inspirational qualities of his predecessor -- and in that sense his 1999 election victory was more a reaffirmation of faith in the ANC's ultimate ability to deliver socio-economic improvements than it was a resounding personal endorsement -- but his cause has not been helped by a string of misjudgments on specific policy issues. The gravest of these, and the one likely to leave a permanent stain on his political reputation, has been his eccentric handling of the country's HIV-AIDS crisis. With one in nine of the population now HIV positive and the country f acing an apocalyptic scenario, decisive leadership and a clear message from the top were desperately needed to help combat the spread of the disease. Instead, Mbeki has chosen to muddy the waters of the AIDS prevention campaign by giving credence to the views of 'dissident scientists' who question the scientific link between HIV and AIDS. In addition to this, his 'softly softly' response to the authoritarian excesses of President Robert Mugabe in neighbouring Zimbabwe has failed to moderate the Zimbabwean leader's behaviour and that country's descent into tyranny continues to gather momentum with extremely negative consequences for South Africa.

Mbeki's lethargic response to the corruption which has attended the government's 50 billion Rand (approximately [pound]4 billion) arms procurement programme -- particularly his insistence that the anti-corruption Special Investigation Unit headed by Judge Willem Heath, 'which has a public reputation for independence and thoroughness' (The Guardian, 28 May), should not become involved in any investigation -- has also killed off any hope that blatant nepotism and self-enrichment at the highest levels of the ANC would be systematically rooted out. The socio-economic backdrop to these policy failures also continues to be discouraging and on all the major economic indices -- GDP growth, job creation and the ability to attract foreign direct investment -- the Mbeki government is struggling to demonstrate real progress. This general record of failure has increased the nervousness and insecurity of an Mbeki camp for whom, as was suggested above, dark plots and secret machinations constitute the very stuff of politic s and it has also provided fertile terrain in which conspiracy theories about possible leadership challenges in 2002 can flourish. This is the real context in which the April allegations should be understood and interpreted. They essentially amounted to a crude pre-emptive strike designed to forestall any leadership challenge and the natural targets were those with whom Mbeki has crossed swords in the past. Given the position at stake, Mbeki and his supporters have now made it very clear that they are quite prepared to deploy the organs of the state to neutralise internal party rivals. This failure to respect the demarcation lines between party and state -- a common weakness in one party dominant systems such as South Africa -- and the attempt to blur the distinction between legitimate and unconstitutional political activity are rapidly becoming distinguishing features of the Mbeki presidency. Such tactics were strongly criticised by the opposition Democratic Alliance (DA) and, more worryingly for Mbeki, by t he ANC's own ally, the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU). Characterising the internal party manoeuvring familiar to any democratic state as an embryonic coup d'etat, thus legitimising the use of the state apparatus to counter it, was, in COSATU's phrase, behaviour more in keeping with a 'banana republic' than that of an established, self-confident democracy.

Ultimately the allegations were designed to promote a groundswell of grassroots support for Mbeki and to stifle criticism of his leadership by linking such criticism to unconstitutional conspiracies. It was hoped that this would, in turn, generate pressure from the ANC membership on the individuals concerned and they would be forced to renounce publicly any leadership aspirations -- and to declare their backing for Mbeki -- or face punitive action which would consign them to the political wilderness (a technique already successfully deployed vis-a-vis Deputy-President Zuma). Whatever its theoretical attractions, the plan was a practical disaster, not least because the case against the three was so weak, thus making it difficult to mobilise broader party support for what amounted to a witch-hunt. It should also be noted that two of the three accused are genuine ANC 'heavyweights'. Sexwale, a close comrade of the late Chris Hani, remains an influential politician while Ramaphosa's credentials for the party lea dership are at least as impressive as those of Mbeki. He skilfully guided the ANC through the delicate intricacies and compromises of constitutional negotiations from 1991-4 and he has good connections with strategically important constituencies such as organised labour (which is bitterly opposed to Mbeki's current economic trajectory) and black business as head of the BEEC. In fact, it was in this latter capacity that he tabled a report in late April -- when the plot allegations were dominating the media -- mapping out an alternative, and much more interventionist, macro-economic prospectus to Mbeki's neo-liberal Growth, Employment and Redistribution (GEAR) strategy which has guided government economic policy since 1996. Mbeki will also be well aware that Ramaphosa is held in high regard by the ANC rank-and-file as was demonstrated in December 1997 when he topped the poll of ordinary party members in elections for the NEC. Paradoxically, therefore, the reason these individuals have been singled out for atten tion and victimisation -- their popularity -- may also be the reason why they have been able to fend off the accusations with relative ease. Such figures simply cannot be written out of the party script or be politically extinguished by rumour and unsubstantiated allegations; indeed, the very fact that Mbeki had to resort to such public smear tactics -- something of a 'nuclear option' in party terms -- indicates the depth of his unease and the failure of his legendary party management skills to contain and resolve differences.

Future Prospects

The irony here is that in terms of the leadership at least, Mbeki was almost certainly shooting at an imaginary enemy in the case of Cyril Ramaphosa, his most serious rival. Ramaphosa has time on his side and his withdrawal from active politics since 1996 indicated his awareness that Mbeki was likely to serve two full terms in office and that his opportunity would duly come in 2009. It would make greater sense for Ramaphosa to support an orderly transition and to position himself as the ANC's heir apparent than it would to engage in a bruising leadership battle to supplant Mbeki with all its attendant turmoil. At this stage it is also a contest he would probably lose (Mbeki's support in both the NEC and Cabinet remains solid despite the turbulence of the last eighteen months) and the ANC membership, still unaccustomed to such robust and open intra-party competition, might struggle to understand or to forgive such a challenge, thus jeopardising his future prospects (borrowing from the British experience, we mi ght label this the 'Heseltine factor').

It was notable that in his public comments on this unhappy episode, Nelson Mandela sought to play the mediating elder statesman role. He defended the three from the allegations -- of which he seemed utterly contemptuous -- and praised their record of service to the ANC while promoting a compromise formula in which Mbeki would serve two full terms while Ramaphosa should be considered as 'one of the right people' to lead the party in the future. However, Mbeki's deep political insecurity may not allow him to develop that possibility and he still seems prepared to go to inordinate lengths to remove even the slightest danger of a leadership challenge (and perhaps to destroy any prospect of Ramaphosa ever leading the ANC). The irony, of course, is that such behaviour is actually more likely to produce the much feared leadership challenge than a more relaxed approach in which the President accepts criticism and the 'political cut-and-thrust' - to use the phrase of The Independent (26 April) - as indispensable feat ures of democratic pluralism. Ultimately, whatever its precise intentions, the entire episode has subjected Mbeki's political methods - his approach to government and to party democracy - to highly critical inspection and his reputation has suffered potentially irreparable damage as a consequence. All in all, this has been a rather curious and depressing outcome for a leader who, prior to his accession to the presidency in June 1999, had established a reputation as a consummate party manager with highly sensitive political antennae and the surest of political touches - a politician's politician so to speak. A succession of dismal presidential performances in response to the HIV-AIDS crisis, the deteriorating situation in Zimbabwe, the arms procurement scandal, and now the contrived plot allegations of April 2001 seem to have shattered that image beyond repair. While it is virtually certain that Mbeki will remain in power through to 2004 and beyond, it is also clear that, henceforth, he will be operating with greatly diminished political authority. The obvious danger is that far from causing Mbeki to reappraise his whole political modus operandi, his reduced standing may only serve to reinforce the siege mentality which has helped set his presidency on its current self-destructive course.

James Hamill is a lecturer in the Politics Department at the University of Leicester. The author would like to acknowledge the study leave granted by the University of Leicester which made research for this article possible.

COPYRIGHT 2001 Contemporary Review Company Ltd.
COPYRIGHT 2001 Gale Group