All manner of commentary has emerged about the world being at a turning point as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic. Post-pandemic scenarios range from renewed anti-capitalistic Utopianism to increased geo-political tensions and authoritarianism, and South Africa’s situation is not exempt from such prognostication.
The narrative championed across the usual social media channels goes that our country, being at a turning point, will make a timely reversal from the precipice.
Central to both local and international versions of this view is that the government has actually done something about the problem and followed other countries into instituting a lockdown in the hope of ‘flattening the curve’.
For example, we have Anton Roux evangelizing that the government has taken ‘quick and correct’ action, with several other (inconsequential) benefits.
An article written by the BBC’s Africa correspondent Andrew Harding at the beginning of lockdown spoke of the ‘formidable leadership’ of Cyril Ramaphosa and our Health Minister Zweli Mkhize.
The journalist concludes, after giving appropriate space to the countervailing realities of the effects of years of state capture, that a ‘sudden, extreme crisis — like a war or emergency — offers the tantalising possibility of radical change […]’. This has been taken up with gusto by the populace, with much lauding of the President as both leader and human being. This is delusional. There is no reason to believe that the situation would produce Ramaphosa’s now tired New Dawn moment, or that it provides impetus for any substantial change away from the current trajectory, except to reassure the ailing patient.
In Harding’s case, he ironically (or wilfully) does not seem to realise that the people still involved in government — those to whom he refers as ‘skilled, impressive leadership available at the highest levels’ — were the same as those who until recently were at the heart of the State Capture enterprise, and maybe still are.
I suspect, however, that the BBC correspondent’s enthusiasm for our government’s response is contrasted with his disapproval of the United Kingdom’s apparently haphazard handling of the pandemic.
Severe case of amnesia
For their part, the populace appears to have had a severe case of amnesia. With some help from the pandemic-porn of the international news outlets, people seem to believe that the same Government which was doing its level best to infringe on personal property rights and now personal liberties is going to save them from this disease.
And this same Government until a month ago was still pushing ideological hobby horses like the National Health Insurance and land expropriation without compensation, with scant regard for the economic implications and the damage these would cause the broader social fabric.
The Government is still seemingly set on following through with these programmes, as we see, for example, from the Tourism minister’s recent utterances on the relief fund (citing ‘the Law’). Neither has the flavour of normal government tangibly changed with the establishment of the ‘Command Council’ (a vain, communistic moniker: the Disaster Management Act of 2002 only refers to an ‘intragovernmental committee’).
There is still the despotic rubbish from the gangsterish Cele and the self-aggrandisement and condescension of the head of the army, who is treating this situation like a pitched battle and appears to think that the SANDF is untouchable in comparison to the little people.
Despite Harding’s favourable view of Ramaphosa and Mkhize, they, like other ministers whom Harding characterises as ‘less impressive’, do not operate in isolation. Just because Ramaphosa, as the friendly face of government, is able to produce vaguely Churchillian sounds in his evening statements, this does not mean that the ends justify the means. Government ministers are all collectively responsible, and are all collectively implicated.
Indeed, it is not only the ‘what’, but the ‘how’ which must be kept in mind. A lockdown may well be the way to reduce the speed of transmission. But there are ways of implementing lockdowns without holding the populace to ransom.
Expansive but discretionary
The powers which the Disaster Management Act of 2002 grants the government are expansive but also discretionary — regarding what to implement as well as why the implementation is necessary. Of particular relevance is Section 27 (3)(d) and (e), which deals with ‘preventing and combating disruption’ and ‘dealing with the destructive effects of the disaster’.
Out of concern for the aftermath of natural disasters, as the Hansard transcripts of 18 September 2002 show, this section covers crowd control — something of which there is rather a lot for the problem at hand.
The ban on transport and sale of alcohol, part of the original provisions of the Disaster Management Act [its own clause, as Section 27(2)(i)], is a case in point. It is not remotely for any personal health reason, but in the first instance to keep the populace in check, and only secondarily as a means to protect the already ailing health system.
Along with the criminalisation of spreading false information, the definition of which is suitably vague, and the deployment of the full forces of the SANDF, this ban is a prime example of a government overreaching. The lockdown has also shown up the inadequacies of our current leadership.
Much of the lockdown regulation is contradictory, unnecessary, and gives a distinct impression of being arbitrarily made up. The recently-praised step-down programme which is meant to lead to the opening up of the economy at some future unidentified point displays this in splendid glory. The banning of hot cooked food is well known, but other questions arise too. Why should only winter clothing be allowed at level 4, but not other clothing?
Is there a fundamental difference between these items, and will it make a tangible difference in terms of disease prevention? What tangible difference is there between the sale of stationery and the opening or closing of forestry work? What is the fundamental danger in collecting hot food yourself as opposed to going to do your shopping yourself?
Why should there be a need for a curfew when one has not been in place for the last month (at the so-called ‘drastic’ level, to use their terminology)? What magical powers does 6am to 9am have for exercise (or disease prevention, for that matter), which other hours of the day do not? More than anything else, the measures which have been taken are essentially following World Health Organisation protocol, hence the narrative of ‘flattening the curve’.
The point of flattening the curve, as has been repeatedly stated in multiple places, is to prevent an overload of the health system. Whereas this is a concern in First World countries, it spells disaster for a fragile public health system such as ours, and which is going to be made more fragile with the introduction of NHI.
Thus, what is a precaution in other countries, is effectively a tacit acknowledgement of how incapable our public health system has become. Acknowledgement may be the first step on the path towards reform. However, when the government’s solution is not to rethink but instead to pick up the pace with existing damaging reforms, this does not bode well for a broader reversal.
Broadening the welfare state
The plans for post-lockdown recovery, such as they are at this stage, even with the burbling statement of 21 April which was meant to enlighten us, seem in essence to broaden the welfare state, and as a result reinforce dependence on it, particularly if no economic activity is going to come on line in any meaningful way.
If the order in which the president listed the steps the Government would take are any indication, the plan is to throw money at the problems until this is no longer practicable, and only then to restart the economy.
As always with this Government, it is a cosmetic, short-sighted and short-term solution. More so when this is done according to the same ideological principles as before the lockdown. Indeed, even the president declared in his speech of 21 April that the remedy for the economic situation is not reform, but an accelerated pace of implementation of pre-Covid policies.
By the same token, they are still in large part turning a blind eye to the state of the economy: seeNkosazana Dlamini-Zuma insisting that only pandemics, not public health interventions, depress economies.
So, the praise for President Ramaphosa and others is largely unjustified. The lockdown agenda is being made to look as if it’s driven by Ramaphosa’s one-time rival for leadership Dlamini-Zuma and the ‘other’ faction of the ANC, with the president as the reassuring, friendly face. This seems to be all that is getting through amidst the noise.
But, as South Africa has not had a merely ceremonial state president since the 1980s, Ramaphosa must be held responsible. This government is presiding over a prolonged economic and social car crash.
If any reform is to happen, it will probably come too late, and after too much damage has been done. And where will the repeated mantra of ‘we will overcome’ have left us then?
The views of the writer are not necessarily the views of the Daily Friend or the IRR
If you like what you have just read, subscribe to the Daily Friend