04 Feb 2014 | Tony Leon | Original Publication: BDlive
Even before the shortest-lived
union in SA’s political history was over, commentators were already suggesting
that Mamphela Ramphele is the political equivalent of Zsa Zsa Gabor, writes
Tony Leon
LAST WEDNESDAY evening, Cape Town’s Mount Nelson Hotel was the venue for
the launch of a homage to the grand dame of South Africa’s old opposition,
Helen Suzman.
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| Agang SA leader Mamphela Ramphele |
And the past, present and future leaders of that project were gathered
for the event: former president FW de Klerk, Inkatha boss Mangosuthu Buthelezi,
this columnist, and the youngest leader of the parliamentary opposition,
Lindiwe Mazibuko. But all eyes that night were on two of the speakers, Helen
Zille and Mamphela Ramphele, whose political betrothal had been announced just
the day before. Within days, they would breathe new life into the cliche,
"Marry in haste, repent at leisure."
Robin Renwick’s concise and affectionately penned book, Helen Suzman —
Bright Star in a Dark Chamber, relies more on anecdote and research than on
critical analysis. The book and the launch speeches dwelt on one part of the
Suzman story: the immense reserves of character and conspicuous displays of
courage and wit of a parliamentary David, who went up against the Goliath of
the apartheid order.
But it leaves unexamined the paradoxical simplicity of that difficult
task. Suzman had principle and a righteous cause on her side. She was in
opposition to a system that, while popular with white South Africans, was
universally opposed by the black majority, much of civil society and most of
the world.
In electoral terms, to continue her work, Suzman needed the support of
just one constituency out of 166 in white South Africa — Houghton. As I
discussed with her daughter, Frances Jowell, after the event, despite the fact
that she was certainly the most famous member of her party, she never sought,
and in fact resisted, the idea of ever becoming its leader.
As a conviction politician, Suzman’s work was relatively uncontaminated
by the messy compromises of party management and the need to expand the base of
her movement.
With South Africa’s attention riveted by the off-on-off parachute jump
by Ramphele into the top slot of the Democratic Alliance, it is easy to forget
quite how unenthusiastic Suzman was every time her beloved Progressive Party
felt the need to merge and reinvent itself to meet the expectations of
opposition voters, who, then as now, craved the unification of a fractured
opposition and the injection of some political glamour to refresh the project.
Renwick’s book does not mention the hostility between Suzman and Harry
Schwarz, leader of the Reform Party breakaway from the United Party, which
resulted in the Progressive Reform Party, later the Progressive Federal Party.
And when that formation had reached its electoral sell-by date, the Democratic
Party (DP) was formed in 1989.
Renwick writes, appropriately for a diplomat of long and distinguished
standing: "She did not take kindly to suggestions that, to try to widen
its appeal, the new entity should try to shed the Progressive Party image of
which she was understandably proud."
Actually, when the DP was formed with its ill-conceived troika
leadership, she had a much earthier response: "This is the biggest hijack
since Entebbe and there are no Jews around to rescue it." When the
decision was taken in 2000 to merge the Democratic Party with the New National
Party to create the Democratic Alliance, I was the recipient of Suzman’s
incandescent fury. She reluctantly accepted the electoral logic of the
arrangement, but told me, and then repeated in public, that it should have been
a pact, not a full-scale merger. One can only speculate on her reaction to the
events of last week.
On hearing the news of Ramphele’s accession into the DA, I thought it
tactically smart but strategically questionable. It seemed to breathe
excitement and enthusiasm into the opposition ranks.
In the long or even medium term, I thought it bequeathed the opposition
with more problems than solutions to the quest for refreshed leadership and
policy coherence. And then, even before the shortest-lived political union in
South Africa’s political history was over, the controversies erupted. Across
the board, commentators and insiders suggested that Ramphele was the political
equivalent of Zsa Zsa Gabor. The latter was "famous for being
famous", the former for high offices she had achieved rather than any
significant achievement in them.
Then came Ramphele’s calamitous weekend interviews, in the Sunday Times
and Rapport. In both, she presented herself as a narcissist on steroids. But
Zille and the DA leadership had been led to and dropped at the altar by
Ramphele once before.
It brings to mind the aphorism: "Fool me once, shame on you; fool
me twice, shame on me." Surely the key issue was to tie down Ramphele in
explicit terms to signing a DA membership form before the announcement? Without
that, it’s like selling your home without confirming the price. On the one hand,
a fatal combination of vanity and naivety. But, on the other, it is better to
cut your losses than to double down on a huge mistake.
• Leon is the author of The Accidental Ambassador (Pan Macmillan).
Follow him on Twitter: @TonyLeonSA OR on Facebook: facebook.com/TonyLeonSA
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