What in the world was South Africa’s President Cyril Ramaphosa doing hiding piles of U. S. dollars at his rural game ranch nearly three years ago? He says that the cash came from the purchase of prize buffalos by a Sudanese businessman, and that the ranch’s manager (not Ramaphosa) did not trust a proper safe with the proceeds, instead stuffing all of the dollars into the back of a couch in Ramaphosa’s private quarters. A housekeeper apparently found or knew the dollars were there, alerting allegedly Namibian thieves to come and run off with the loot.
That is the story. But the Sudanese entrepreneur has not been located, the ranch manager has not testified, the buffalo are still grazing, and Ramaphosa (who was away from the ranch being presidential when the theft occurred) says that he has done nothing illegal. Indeed, only his arch enemies assert that he likely stole the funds or that they are corrupt proceeds. Opponents suggest money-laundering, but credible evidence or reasons are lacking. The precise amount deposited under cushions is in dispute, too: Ramaphosa says that it totaled $580,000; his accusers claim between $4 million and $8 million were involved – denominations not specified.
Compared to his presidential predecessor and to so many of his erstwhile African National Congress (ANC) comrades still supporting ex-President Jacob Zuma -- who remains on trial for immense kleptocratic corruption -- Ramaphosa was not regarded as corrupt or kleptocratic. He became immensely wealthy in legitimate capitalistic ways well before he replaced Zuma as president in 2018.
Those of us who knew Ramaphosa in the early days of South Africa’s independence, and saluted the ways in in which he helped to manage the transition from apartheid to freedom, and to write South Africa’s liberal constitution, can but be startled by the tale of the hidden dollars and the danger in which those events has placed his presidency and South Africa’s vigorous effort (under Ramaphosa) to recover from the “state capture” that plunged South Africa into an abyss of deceit and plunder during Zuma’s era. Ramaphosa is now accused of violating sections of the constitution that he himself drafted. But both accusations and rejoinders are entirely hearsay; nothing so far is based on testimony or hard evidence.
A parliamentary inquiry led by a respected former chief judge into what is now called the “Farmgate” affair this week said that Ramaphosa, 70, had questions, some concerning conflicts of interest, to answer. (It never took evidence or testimony under oath.) What was he doing with so much foreign cash, possibly in breach of South African regulations and tax requirements? Why did he never report the theft to the police but instead require his protection detail to investigate instead? Why did he lean on the president of Namibia to attempt to track down the robbers? And what happened to them and to the money? And what was it all for, really?
“I categorically deny that I have violated [my presidential] oath in any way, and I similarly deny that I am guilty of any of the allegations made against me,” Ramaphosa declared.
The ruling ANC has been split bitterly for several years between those who support Zuma and are upset that Ramaphosa’s administration has been attempting to curb their corrupt practices and turn South Africa decisively in the direction of integrity and those who wanted a seemingly incorruptible Ramaphosa to recover South Africa’s greatness under Mandela. Indeed, leading up to a critical ANC intra-party election later this month, a wide majority of nominations received from party branches throughout the country backed Ramaphosa, seemingly paving his way to victory in the party contest and re-nomination subsequently as the nation’s head of state. (In South Africa, the majority party in parliament chooses the national president rather than having citizens do so at election time.)
The Zuma crowd wants to impeach Ramaphosa next week. Many from that segment of the ANC are demanding that the president resign because of the unanswered questions noted by the inquiry. (Zuma partisans were the ones to discover the Farmgate theft, and to publicize it.) Last night, the talk in South Africa was that Ramaphosa would resign to avoid having to justify himself. But by this afternoon in South Africa he was still in office.
If he resigns, or if he is impeached by parliament (where the full ANC has the votes to decide his fate), few of South Africa’s massive problems will be any closer to being resolved than they are now. Corruption is still rampant, if somewhat less blatant than during the state capture years under Zuma, and earlier under President Thabo Mbeki. Crime has increased, with per capita homicide rates among the highest in the world, after countries in Central America. The educational sector is failing, with young people being unable to read or count.
There is much less electricity available to consumers than there was just after apartheid, under Mandela. Thanks to mismanagement and underinvestment, in many of the country’s cities and slums power to light homes and run factories and mines is available only for parts of every day. “Load shedding,” as it is called, is a perennial drain on “normal” life, even for wealthier suburbanites. Eskom, the state-owned utility, is still burning poor-quality coal to provide much of what little power it generates, thus adding to global warming and air pollution without too often satisfying customers who want to see at night and cook.
Ramaphosa has been attempting with too little success to improve security and other public services. They all steadily deteriorated under his predecessors. Indeed, despite positive talk and the best of intentions, Ramaphosa has been unable to clamp down on the parts of the ANC that still abuse the public trust and enrich themselves. Nor has he as yet managed fully to reinvigorate the police and security services, to uplift South Africa’s educational endeavor, or to transform Eskom into a well-functioning provider of electricity.
Since there is no trusted successor in the wings, and the ANC’s top echelon is paralytically polarized, a Ramaphosa exit would plunge one of Africa’s leading nations into total disarray. The compromised Zuma faction would try to vault itself back into power, but without the backing of citizens and voters. And without regaining legitimacy, it is also difficult to discern how Ramaphosa can really govern effectively.
South Africa, and much of Africa’s, future therefore depends on convincing answers. What really happened at the game ranch, and why did Ramaphosa try to cover up the theft?
Meanwhile, as it faces a consummate crisis of governance, South Africans can at least be proud that their mechanisms of justice in parliament and in the courts have once again been shown to be robust. In some other African polities, the president would have abrogated any official inquiry or would have fixed the result. Not South Africa.
Yet another brilliant, balanced and insightful analysis by a man who has spent decades doing what very few Westerners do, understanding the local politics, cultures, economics and tribal histories and current relationships by listening to the local citizens not by seeing events through inaccurate western filters that are biased, prejudiced and usually very wrong .