In a stunning display of international meddling that would make a meddling internationalist blush, the British government has thrown its considerable weight behind a South African opposition leader’s demand for a ministerial beheading. Not literally, of course. That would be too much like real news. No, this is the polite, parliamentary sort of decapitation where the victim is merely stripped of their pension and forced to write a memoir about their ‘journey’.
The honourable gentleman in question, Mr. John Steenhuisen of the Democratic Alliance, has had it up to here with the ‘failed targets’ of some hapless cabinet member whose name I cannot be bothered to remember. Apparently, the minister in question has been as effective as a chocolate teapot in a heatwave, and Steenhuisen wants him out. And who can blame him? When the going gets tough, the tough get going to London to whine about it.
London, ever the bastion of moral superiority and bad weather, has obligingly expressed its ‘deep concern’ over the situation. A spokesperson for the Foreign Office, no doubt sipping a lukewarm cup of tea and looking down their nose at a map of the Commonwealth, said: ‘We support democratic processes and the call for accountability.’ Translation: ‘We have no actual power here, but we like to feel important.’
This is, after all, the same Foreign Office that once declared war on a penguin colony over fishing rights and lost. So when they say they ‘support’ something, one must take it with a grain of salt. Preferably a large, South African salt lick.
The irony is so thick you could spread it on a scone. Here is a country, South Africa, grappling with load shedding, corruption so endemic it has its own zip code, and a murder rate that makes Chicago look like a Swiss finishing school. And what does the opposition focus on? A minister who didn’t hit his targets. Targets, mind you, that were probably set by a committee of giraffes using a Ouija board.
But let us not be too harsh on Mr. Steenhuisen. He is merely playing the game, the grand theatre of politics where one must make noise to be heard. And what better noise than the siren call of British backing? It is the equivalent of a papal blessing, only with more gin and less guilt.
As for the minister in question, his fate is sealed. He will be sacked, shuffled off to a sinecure in some obscure department, and replaced by another poor soul who will make identical promises and miss them in equally spectacular fashion. It is the circle of political life. The targets remain unmet, the opposition fulminates, London tuts, and the rest of us get on with the business of surviving another day.
So let us raise a glass of warm gin to John Steenhuisen, the hero of the hour. He may not have achieved anything of substance, but he has given us a good story. And in this benighted age, that is worth its weight in fool’s gold.
