Gareth van Onselen: ANC’s shabby culture shown

BETWEEN the formal prescripts of any constitutional democracy lie those informal, often hidden, rules we take for granted. But they are no less important when it comes to maintaining and developing a democratic culture.

They constitute the spirit of constitutionalism. Without them, forces set on its subversion are easily able to undermine what remains – a technocratic, bureaucratic state in which the rigid interpretation of the rule of law is detached from its accompanying culture and, thus, its desired effect.

South Africa is developing the body of formal thought that defines its constitutional order. The Constitutional Court judgment on the Nkandla matter was a powerful addition – the kind of thing that will provide clarity and direction on a great many core principles for generations to come.

In parliament, however, it came face to face with a profoundly anti-democratic, majoritarian and informal impulse and, for all the court ruling’s weight on paper, it was rendered subservient to the will of a party that has done little to inculcate, develop, or nurture the spirit of constitutionalism.

If anything, the decision of the ANC uniformly to support President Jacob Zuma in the face of a parliamentary motion to remove him from office was indicative of an organisation that has done great harm to the formal and informal rules of our democracy. But it is its contempt for the spirit of constitutionalism that constitutes the bigger threat, if only because it is rarely properly identified for what it is and its influence is far more amorphous.

The assumption seems to be that the right attitude can be reasoned into the ANC.

It facilitates this charade by ostensibly concerning itself with words and meaning.

But there is an organisational culture at play that has no formal parameters.

It runs in the other direction. And so, the great debate seemingly unfolds, each vested interest talking past each other.

Take contrition, by way of illustration. It is an unwritten assumption, inherent to any modern democracy, that someone in power, dedicated to upholding the constitution, would feel a sense of guilt, shame, or embarrassment when found to have violated his or her oath.

It is on the back of such things that public servants elsewhere in the world often “do the right thing” and offer up their resignations when guilty. But there appears to be precious little of that on display in the ANC.

It seems to be a party without remorse. Contrition is not part of the ANC’s internal culture.

In the other direction, it is an informal expectation that, in a constitutional democracy a certain reverence for the constitution, if not the Constitutional Court, holds sway. It is assumed its judgments carry not just the weight of reason and wisdom, but a less tangible authority too, defined by years of precedent, and influenced by the standing of those who occupy its benches.

Again, this would seem entirely absent from the ANC’s internal political culture. It will readily enough claim “respect” for the Constitutional Court, but respect in South Africa today is a word stripped of all meaning.

For the ANC, it has become nothing more than a synonym for acknowledgment. That is, unless its own figureheads are the ones demanding it – then it is taken to mean deference or obsequiousness.

But it engenders no awe in the ANC, no wonder or veneration. How could it?

In the ANC’s internal universe, it is a by-product of the party’s own legacy and, thus, secondary to it.

What happens to a formal democracy when, informally, its political culture is dominated by these kinds of anti-democratic impulses? There is only one winner.

The Constitutional Court judgment is thus an interesting test for South Africa because it has, more than any other event in our recent history, rendered these hidden instincts more visible. The question is: what can be done about them?

Precedent is such a powerful force in this regard. It is the weapon we use to try, by implication, to evoke the kind of political culture worthy of admiration.

Nelson Mandela is perhaps the quintessential example. So often when his name is used by the opposition or civil society, even by those ANC stalwarts who, with time, have found some perspective, it is to allude to an attitude, more than a hard principle or conviction.

There are a couple of these kinds of precedents being established. Perhaps the most important of them is that, with its disintegration, the ANC is learning to become more self-critical.

Many in the old guard are speaking out, and even within the party’s structures, branches and individuals are taking issue with its decisions and direction. There was a time – say, at the height of the HIV/Aids debacle under former president Thabo Mbeki – when no one dared break rank.

It is true, they are born more of necessity than any conscious commitment to try to change the ANC’s internal culture. Nevertheless, the effect is the same.

An ability for introspection is a sign of political maturity. Alas, that too is lacking from the ANC’s internal culture.

Everything the ANC identifies as wrong with the party today, it does so not from a perspective of learning and growing, but a wish to eradicate or crush. There are no lessons to be learnt from its implosion, only that a stronger will is needed to reinforce its immutable nature.

So much of the ANC’s deeply problematic internal political culture is explained by majoritarianism. Ideas such as “collective responsibility” denude accountability of its meaning, while “cadre deployment” subverts public service into a mechanism for party control, or patronage.

One can argue the veracity of all these ideas on paper, and use argument and reason to take issue with their faults and shortcomings, but once instilled in a party, they engender behaviours and attitudes far harder to tackle directly or to arrest directly.

Many watched in bewilderment as the ANC’s national caucus voted in support of its president. They looked on for a sign of embarrassment or shame, if not a sense of duty instilled via the ever watchful gaze of the constitution.

They had argument on their side. They had evidence. They had the rule of law. They had the Constitutional Court, but none of that mattered, really.

For the ANC, this was not a formal test, it was an informal one. And while it was happy to torture the facts to provide just enough of a pretence to justify its own internal culture, it was that culture that was really on display.

The ANC’s greatest test, one it has yet to pass, is an ability to demonstrate guilt and shame authentically. When it can do that, it will have begun the transition from liberation movement to formal political party.

Then again, if it does, it will also no longer be the ANC.