Constitutional Hill

Freedom of expression

Nkandla: the National Key Points Act must be ignored

The Minister of Public Works must have jumped for joy when he was told that details of the abuse of public funds to upgrade the private home of President Jacob Zuma and Nkandla could be suppressed by invoking the truly authoritarian National Key Points Act. Passed in 1980 – as the finger-wagging, lip-licking, PW Botha and his securocrats were consolidating their autocratic powers and creating new mechanisms to censor the media to prevent another embarrassing Info scandal – the Act is a true relic of an undemocratic and oppressive past. No wonder it is only invoked selectively in an attempt to hide aspects of some – but not other – scandals washing like the proverbial tsunami over the Zuma government.

When journalists reported that a plane full of wedding guests (attending the lavish wedding organised by the politically connected Gupta brothers) had landed at Waterkloof Air Force base, they probably did not realise that they were potentially exposing themselves to the risk of a three-year prison term for breaching the provisions of the National Key Points Act. This is because Waterkloof Air Force base has allegedly been declared a National Key Point – although there is no way of knowing whether this is true or not because the list of National Key Points is itself a state secret. (For all we know there is no list of places declared as National Key Points at all and our government makes up National Key Points as they see fit in order to cover up corruption and maladministration – we simply do not know.)

But when, first, Gwede Mantashe and then later several cabinet ministers also commented on the scandal, they must have known that they were running the risk of breaking an infamous Apartheid law – if Waterkloof Air Force base is indeed a National Key Point as alleged. But because they were trying to protect the president, they seemed to have shown little concern about the possible dangers of breaching the provisions of the National Key Points Act – and rightly so. Pity the same level-headed attitude about this Act is not in evidence as far as the corrupt use of public funds to upgrade the private home of President Zuma at Nkandla is concerned.

Section 10(2)(c) of the National Key Points Act states that any person who:

furnishes in any manner whatsoever any information relating to the security measures, applicable at or in respect of any National Key Point or in respect of any incident that occurred there, without being legally obliged or entitled to do so, or without the disclosure or publication of the said information being empowered by or on the authority of the Minister… shall be guilty of an offence and on conviction liable to a fine not exceeding R10,000 or to imprisonment for a period not exceeding three years or to both such fine and such imprisonment.

This section is rather broad. It prohibits any person from revealing any information about any “security measures” (or lack of security measures, one would assume) applicable at a National Key Point. It also prohibits anyone from furnishing any information on “any incident” of terrorism or subversion that had occurred at the National Key Point. However, we are not allowed to know which areas have been declared National Key Points and we are asked to trust the relevant Minister who claims at will that this or that site has indeed been declared a National Key Point.

This means that the journalists and the ministers who furnished information to the public about the landing of a private plane at Waterkloof Air Force base and the relative absence of security measures at the time, as well as the manner in which the guests on that plane was dealt with, might – at a stretch – inadvertently have revealed information about “security measures” applicable at Waterkloof and in theory might have committed an offence in terms of the National Key Points Act.

But I suspect the journalists and the ministers will be safe from criminal prosecution. Although the section is indeed absurdly broad, the Act does not prohibit anyone from providing any information about the National Key Point at all. It is clear that the Act does not prohibit anyone from revealing any information on non-security related measures or incidents at a National Key Point. On this basis the journalists and the ministers who revealed information about the landing of a private plane at a National Key Point might escape criminal prosecution. They might argue that they only revealed information on events that took place there and did not reveal what security measures are in fact in place at Waterkloof.

If this is correct and if the journalists and Ministers did not commit a criminal offence when they revealed details of the Gupta plane landing, then the claim by the Minister of Public Works that the report on the Nkandla scandal cannot be made public and must be discussed behind closed doors because Nkandla is a National Key Point is demonstrated to be pure nonsense invented to hide the truth about the abuse of public funds. Just as the journalists and the ministers were allowed to reveal information around the landing of a plane at Watekloof, we are also allowed to reveal information about the use of public funds for the upgrade of the private home of President Zuma at Nkandla.

Soon the Public Protector will finalise her report on the Nkandla scandal. In a futile attempt to protect the president, the very cabinet ministers who ignored the possible infringement of the National Key Points Act in the Guptagate saga will invoke this law to try and suppress that report. Those of us who might obtain a copy of the Public Protector’s report might do well to follow the example of the various ministers by ignoring the absurd law and publishing the Public Protector’s report.

As a complainant in the matter I expect to receive a copy of that report. Taking my cue from the Minister Jeff Radebe, I promise to publish it on my blog as soon as I receive a final version of that report. After all, I have no evidence that President Zuma’s Nkandla home has indeed been declared a National Key Point, and would take any claim to the contrary by the Minister of Public Works with a pinch of salt.

And even if Nkandla had indeed been declared a National Key Point as claimed, a report dealing with the use of public funds to upgrade the private home of the president will surely not reveal information about existing security measures at Nkandla. For the same reasons the Ministers ignored section 10(2)(c) of the National Key Points Act when they discussed the landing of a private plane at Waterkloof, I will also ignore that section when provided with the Nkandla Report by the Public Protector.

Surely, if we agree with Minister Jeff Radebe, who said during the Guptagate scandal that “the truth shall set you free”, we all have a duty to expose rather than cover up corruption. It is for that reason – and because it will not break any law – that the Public Protector’s Report on Nkandla must and will be made public.

Religious hate speech is still hate speech

Fundamentalist Christians, and the slippery money-making pastors who stir up their prejudices and passions, often say outrageously hateful things about gay men and lesbians under the pretext of promoting their own extremist version of Christianity. But in a recent judgment, the Canadian Supreme Court affirmed that such statements will often constitute impermissible hate speech. The same principles will probably also apply in South Africa.

When Mr William Whatcott – fired up by a queer religious fervor – distributed several flyers to the public of Saskatchewan in Canada in a campaign against what he clearly believes to be the abomination of same-sex love, he must have thought that his right to freedom of religion would trump the right of others to have their human dignity respected and protected.

Mr Whatcott’s pamphlets railed against “sodomites” who “want to share their filth and propaganda with Saskatchewan’s children!” (Mr Whatcott seems to have a rather morbid obsession with anal sex, children and exclamation marks – a rather odd combination, methinks.) In one pamphlet he claimed that “sodomites are 430 times more likely to acquire Aids and 3 times more likely to sexually abuse children!” In another that: “The Bible is clear that homosexuality is an abomination… Sodom and Gomorrah was given over completely to homosexual perversion and as a result destroyed by God’s wrath!” (Judging from these statements, poor Mr Whatcott labours under the misapprehension that only same-sex couples indulge in the delights of sodomy.)

The Saskatchewan Human Rights Commission found these pamphlets to be in breach of the prohibition on hate speech contained in the Saskatchewan Human Rights Code. Mr. Whatcott – seemingly not a man to take such a ruling lying down, so to speak  – appealed all the way to the Canadian Supreme Court, arguing that to the extent that the Saskatchewan Human Rights Code prohibition on hate speech precludes criticism of same-sex conduct or activity, it infringes on the right to freedom of religion. He argued that sexual conduct has long been a topic of religious discussion and debate, and that:

[o]bjection to same-sex sexual activity is common among religious people. They object because they believe this conduct is harmful; and many religious people also believe that they are obligated to do good and warn others of the danger.

The Canadian Supreme Court, in Whatcott v Saskatchewan Human Rights Commission, rejected these arguments, affirming the principle that the legislature could impose hate speech codes that limited the freedom of expression and the right to religious freedom of even those with strongly and sincerely held religious beliefs – if this was done in order to protect others from serious harm.

In a judgment that would alarm fundamentalist Christian preachers across South Africa (the delights or horrors – as the case may be – of same-sex sodomy being their bread and butter, so to speak) the Canadian Supreme Court affirmed the principle – also applicable in South Africa – that hate speech should be judged objectively with reference to the effects of the speech and not subjectively with reference to the feelings of those targeted by the speech.

Courts should ask whether “when considered objectively by a reasonable person aware of the relevant context and circumstances, the speech in question would be understood as exposing or tending to expose members of the target group to hatred”. In the course of this assessment, a judge or adjudicator is expected to put his or her personal views aside and to base the determination on what he or she perceives to be the rational views of an informed member of society, viewing the matter realistically and practically.

The Canadian Court stressed the narrow application of hate speech prohibitions. Unlike the South African Equality Act – which prohibits speech that can reasonably be construed as having the intention to be hurtful – more serious harm is required in the Canadian hate speech regime before speech would be deemed unlawful. It was only when the effects of the speech would cause “detestation” and “vilification” that the speech could be prohibited.

Representations that expose a target group to detestation tend to inspire enmity and extreme ill-will against them, which goes beyond mere disdain or dislike. Representations vilifying a person or group will seek to abuse, denigrate or delegitimise them, to render them lawless, dangerous, unworthy or unacceptable in the eyes of the audience. Expression exposing vulnerable groups to detestation and vilification goes far beyond merely discrediting, humiliating or offending the victims…. The act of vilifying a person or group connotes accusing them of disgusting characteristics, inherent deficiencies or immoral propensities which are too vile in nature to be shared by the person who vilifies.

The Canadian Supreme Court also warned against the use of hate speech provisions to limit legitimate forms of expression:

Hate speech legislation is not aimed at discouraging repugnant or offensive ideas. It does not, for example, prohibit expression which debates the merits of reducing the rights of vulnerable groups in society. It only restricts the use of expression exposing them to hatred as a part of that debate. It does not target the ideas, but their mode of expression in public and the effect that this mode of expression may have.

In South Africa, people have a tendency wrongly to invoke the hate speech provision in the Equality Act whenever somebody they do not like (or who they fear) says nasty things about them or about the group they belong to. (The Equality Act itself also draws the hate speech net far too wide and is probably unconstitutional as a result.)

So, for example, if I were to say that pastor Errol Naidoo is a smarmy homophobe, somebody will inevitably claim that I am making myself guilty of hate speech, when all I am doing is expressing my opinion about the behaviour and attitudes of a public figure whose obsession with sodomy and sex I find rather queer. Similarly, if somebody complains about the racism of a fellow South African he or she will often be vilified for indulging in so called “hate speech” when all he or she is doing is challenging the prejudices of a fellow citizen.

It is intellectually lazy to invoke the spectre of hate speech every time somebody says something you find objectionable or hurtful. Often people do so because they are incapable of pointing out why the objectionable statements are factually wrong or morally reprehensible. Often they cry “hate speech” because of an irrational fear born out of their own prejudices, instead out of a concern for the harmful effects of truly hateful speech that is aimed at stopping an argument.

For example, it would be easy to report pastor Errol Naidoo to the Equality Court for regularly indulging in hate speech against gay men and lesbians. It would take a bit more work to develop an argument pointing out the inherent contradiction between his expressed fear and hatred of consensual same-sex love and his purported endorsement of Christian doctrine regarding the all-encompassing and healing love of God. An effective challenge to the good pastor’s reasoning would require some engagement with the perverted morality that underlies the promotion of discrimination and hatred under the guise of spreading love and compassion. You would have to show that it is not very rational to say: I love you so much that I would like to ensure that you continue to be vilified and discriminated against.

I would also have to show that, psychologically, the pastor’s obsession with anal sex would suggest that he is fascinated, maybe even entranced – rather than repelled – by the notion of sodomy. That would take some intellectual work. It would also be more fun than making legal arguments before a magistrate.

Moreover, I am personally rather skeptical of the strategic wisdom of using hate speech laws to try and stop uncomfortable or unpopular speech. I, for one, will not be approaching the Equality Court to prevent fundamentalist preachers from railing against “sodomites”. I always draw attention to such speech because I believe those who are so obsessed with the sexual acts of others do themselves and their arguments no favours. It always strikes me that their prurient and seemingly lustful focus on what other consensual adults do in the privacy of their own homes is more sad than harmful as it reflects badly on their own character – not on the character of those they aim to vilify.

But although I will not rush to the Equality Court in the wake of the Canadian Supreme Court judgment, the principle established in it that even religiously inspired hate speech remain hate speech, is timely. It reminds us that religiously inspired hatred remains hatred and its stench cannot be perfumed away by waiving about quotes from the scriptures. Hopefully the South African courts will follow this example when they are confronted with the same problem in future.

New improved Secrecy Bill: still bad, still unconstitutional

Because of immense pressure from civil society, the original draconian version of the Protection of State Information Bill – also known as the Secrecy Bill – tabled in Parliament last year was substantially amended by both houses of Parliament. The version now awaiting President Jacob Zuma’s signatory, while still a thoroughly bad piece of legislation aimed at allowing the covering up of wrongdoing and abuse of power by the intelligence services, is much improved. However, the Bill is unlikely to pass constitutional muster. This is why.

The Secrecy Bill is ostensibly aimed at protecting the “national security” of the country by empowering members of the cabinet, the various security services (including the police and the military) and those bodies overseeing the security services to classify “information” as “confidential”, “secret” or “top secret”. The Minister of State Security is further empowered to grant the power to classify documents to any organ of state or part thereof – although this power cannot be granted to municipalities.

This means that the Minister of State Security has wide powers to authorise other bodies – after approval by Parliament – to classify information. If the Minister (and the majority party in Parliament) wishes to, they could empower any department of state or administration in the national or provincial sphere of government, any other functionary or institution exercising a public power or performing a public function in terms of any legislation and any owner of a facility or installation declared as a National Key Point, to classify information. The head of the Natal Sharks Board, the owner of President Zuma’s private house at Nkandla and the Vice Chancellor of UCT could all be empowered to classify information to protect the “national security” of South Africa.

‘‘Information’’ that can be classified is broadly defined to include not only information contained in documents and electronic recordings but also “verbal announcements”. This means that verbal announcements, say, made to troops sent to the Central African Republic about which private business interests they are tasked to protect could be classified as top secret. Verbal communications between the Guptas and the President or between the Guptas and any Minister or other official would also constitute “information” that could potentially be classified.

Although information can only be classified to protect “national security”, the Bill defines “national security” in a manner that is indeterminate and completely open-ended. The Bill thus states that “national security includes” – but is therefore not limited to – threats against the Republic based on terrorism and sabotage and acts directed at undermining the capacity of the Republic to respond to the use of, or the threat of the use of, force and carrying out of the Republic’s responsibilities to any foreign country.

Because the definition is open-ended, it is conceivable that a cabinet minister or the owner of Nkandla could interpret “national security” in a far broader manner than the examples mentioned in the definition of national security contained in the Bill to include almost anything that, in the mind of the classifier, would threaten “national security”. It would matter not whether this is information about how much money was spent on the upgrade of the private house of President Zuma at Nkandla, how often the Guptas meet with President Zuma and how much money President Zuma and his family have received from the Guptas - as long as it could be shown that the information was believed to involve “national security” it would be in line with the provisions of this Bill.

This means that the Secrecy Bill potentially empowers many people at various levels of government (and many organs of state) to censor information in the name of protecting “national security”, thus potentially imposing drastic limits on the right to freedom of expression and the right of access to information. It does so in two interrelated but distinct ways.

First, when information is classified anyone who leaks or holds or publishes the information commits a criminal offence, meaning that whistle blowers in possession of incriminating evidence of maladministration, “dirty tricks” by the securocrats, evidence of corruption or of criminal activities will think twice before leaking such information to the media for fear of being sent to jail for up to 25 years. Second, journalists and editors will be fearful of receiving any such information and of publishing it for fear of being sent to jail for long periods of time. The potential chilling effect of this law is therefore obvious and real. Only the foolhardy and exceedingly brave will leak or publish classified information – even if the information was wrongly classified to cover up criminal activity or maladministration.

In order to pass constitutional muster these potentially unconstitutional restrictions on the freedom of expression and information will only be justified if it can be shown that the law struck the appropriate balance between the need to protect national security, on the one hand, and the need to protect the rights of citizens to the free flow of information, on the other, and if less restrictive means could not have been used to protect national security in an appropriate manner.

Section 8 of the Bill purports to limit the potentially broad scope of the Bill by stating that classification of state information is justifiable only when it is “necessary to protect national security” and by stating that classification may not under any circumstances be used to conceal corruption or any other unlawful act, to avoid criticism, or to prevent embarrassment to a person, organisation, or organ of state or agency. The section also includes other guidelines which – if meticulously and honestly followed by the classifier – would substantially narrow the scope of the Bill.

Section 45 of the Bill criminalises the wrongful classification of information while section  46 further determines that a “head of an organ of state or an official of such organ of state who wilfully or in a grossly negligent manner fails to comply with the provisions” of the Bill could be sentenced to two years’ imprisonment. These safeguards would go some way to deter abuse of the Bill, but only if an independent body existed to investigate and to prosecute those who wrongfully classify documents to hide corruption or avoid embarrassment. Of course, there is no independent body that will dare to investigate these crimes and – unless a miracle occurs and a truly brave and impartial person is appointed as National Director of Public Prosecutions – such cases will never be prosecuted either.

Those who defend the constitutionality of the Bill will rely heavily on section 41 of the Bill to argue that it limits the rights no more than is necessary. This is so because the section provides a defence to those charged and prosecuted for disclosing even wrongly classified or corruptly classified information in a limited number of cases, included where the disclosure of the information is authorised by other legislation and where the classified information reveals criminal activity, including any criminal activity in terms of section 45 of the Bill.

Section 41 indeed provides an important safeguard for potential whistle blowers. Whistle blowers and journalists who are exceedingly brave (or just plain stupid or reckless about their own freedom and well-being) might well be prepared to take their chances in the hope that it could be shown that the leaked or published classified information indeed reveals criminal activity.

However, how this defence would work in practice is unclear. In terms of our Constitution every person is presumed to be innocent by a court of law until proven guilty. It is therefore unclear whether this defence in section 41 would be available to a whistle-blower or a journalist who receives of publishes classified information that reveals criminal activity if those involved in the criminal activity have not actually been convicted of a crime. How will a whistle-blower or a journalist be able to convince a court that the information reveals criminal activity if the criminal activity has not been successfully prosecuted? And how will the criminal activity be successfully prosecuted when the information revealing that criminal activity remains classified? This defence might therefore well turn out to be illusory.

Besides, the defence says nothing about wrongly classified information or information that do not disclose criminality, but does disclose venality, maladministration, abuse of power or just embarrassing information that would harm the political fortunes of those who classified it. Leaking or publishing such information would remain a criminal offence, which means that there would be a huge incentive for classifiers to classify information that reveals maladministration, abuse of power or other wrongdoing that would not rise to the level of actual criminality.

For example, although the use of more than R200 million of public funds to upgrade the private residence of President Zupta at Nkandla was highly embarrassing for the president, no one has been charged with any criminal offence and it is far from clear that a criminal offence was committed when this public funds were allocated to enrich the president. That means if the Secrecy Bill had been in place, all information about the Nkandla upgrade might well have been deemed national security information (protecting a so called “National Key Point”) and journalists who had published articles on the scandal might then have faced a five-year prison term.

The Act also provides for a Review Panel to review classifications of information but the panel is appointed by the majority party in Parliament and is therefore not independent. You can appeal the classification of information, but as it is a criminal offence to be in possession of classified documents it is unclear how you can appeal the classification of documents you are not allowed to know about and that you are not allowed to have in your possession.

In conclusion, given the indeterminate definition of “national security” in the Bill, the potentially broad powers granted to a wide array of people to classify documents, the lack of effective mechanisms to prevent the wrongful classification of information, the Kafkaesque review and appeal mechanisms and the limited and ineffectual defences provided for those who leak or publish classified information that reveals criminal activity or maladministration, I would be more than surprised if the Constitutional Court certifies this Bill as constitutionally valid.

Nkandla: Why is the ANC protecting the Emperor who is not wearing any clothes?

Members of the ANC and the government it leads often complain about the unfair manner in which the non-SABC sector of the media portrays the party and the government. And it is true that some members of the media suffer from a form of Afro-pessimism and do not often dwell on the government’s successes and achievements. After all, many white middle class consumers of the media do not want to read about what is going well in the country because this does not accord with their own prejudiced view of the ANC. But sometimes the government and the ANC can only blame itself for the bad publicity that rains down on it. Nothing illustrates this point better than the manner in which the government and the ANC have so far handled the Nkandla scandal.

A lesson very few democratic governments ever learn is that when a big scandal like the Nkandla palace upgrade breaks, the worst thing you can do is to try and hide information about the scandal from journalists and the public. When you do this, you give the scandal legs. In a democracy like ours, some if not all of the facts will eventually be revealed – usually in a piecemeal fashion – allowing journalists to continue reporting on the scandal. If you come clean from the start and reveal all the sordid facts, the scandal will die down after the initial flurry of reporting and condemnatory editorials. Journalists have a notoriously short attention span and in the absence of stories on how the government is trying to cover up the use of public funds to enrich the President, it would not report on the Nkandla scandal.

The reason why we are all still talking and writing about the Nkandla scandal – centred around the use of over R200 million of public funds to improve the private palace of President Jacob Zuma at Nkandla – is because the government, bizarrely, continues to claim that Nkandla is a “National Key Point” and that revealing any information about how the money was spent on this private residence would endanger national security and the security of the President.

This move places the interests of President Zuma above the interests of the ANC and the government it leads. Public Works Minister Thulas Nxesi now has to defend the indefensible, damaging his own image and that of the government in the process – all to protect the Emperor of Nkandla. Nxesi can surely not really believe that it is right to invoke a draconian apartheid era piece of  legislation to protect Zuma, whose financial advisor was convicted of bribing the President? Why the ANC has not intervened to protect itself from the political fall-out of their leader’s spendthrift ways is beyond me. Why are they putting the interests of one man above the interests of the party and the country?

The unconvincing attempts at hiding the truth about the abuse of public funds to enrich the President are also counter-productive. Both the scandal and (probably even more so) the attempt at a cover-up, continue to damage the President’s image and create the unfortunate impression that our President sees himself as an old style Emperor who is entitled to draw on public funds to ensure his private comforts and that of his extended family.

This week Minister Thulas Nxesi wrote a letter to National Assembly speaker Max Sisulu informing him that he wants the details of a task team report on the upgrade of President Zuma’s Nkandla palace to be discussed by MPs behind closed doors and “in camera” if necessary. He called the report a “sensitive” matter, by which I can only assume he meant that it is a matter that could embarrass the Emperor. He wrote that tabling the report in Parliament would be “tantamount” to debating a state security matter in public. (By the way, is this increasing use of the word “tantamount” by members of our government not at least a bit scary? I recall how various apartheid era Ministers contemptuously spat out that word whenever they wanted to intimidate their critics. ”His criticism is tantamount to giving comfort to communists and terrorists!”)

In a pointless attempt at hiding the truth about this scandal, Nxesi then continued:

Therefore I propose that the report be tabled and dealt with by a parliamentary committee responsible for security matters or that a mechanism be devised by Parliament that will permit the matter to be discussed without compromising the security of the president and his immediate family.

Section 59(1) of the Constitution states that the National Assembly must “conduct its business in an open manner, and hold its sittings, and those of its committees, in public.” This gives effect to some of the founding values of our Constitution, enshrined in section 1 of that document: “a multiparty system of democratic government, to ensure accountability, responsiveness and openness”. Section 59(2) further states that:

The National Assembly may not exclude the public, including the media, from a sitting of a committee unless it is reasonable and justifiable to do so in an open and democratic society.

The Rules of Parliament confirms the need for openness and transparency but similarly allows for secret meetings to protect private parties and if it is reasonable and justifiable to do so in an open and democratic society. Of course, it can never be reasonable and justifiable in a democratic society to try and hide facts about the spending on public funds on the upgrade of the private palace of the head of state. As we all know, this is all part of a smoke and mirrors game played by the Minister in a futile attempt to protect the President. (I am assuming that no one who claims this is a national security issue actually believes this to be true.) There is nothing in the National Key Points Act that prohibits Parliament from discussing details of the amounts of public money spent on the private palace of the President – whether that palace was declared a National Key Point or not.

Section 10 of the Act prohibits any person from furnishing “any information relating to the security measures, applicable at or in respect of any National Key Point… without being legally obliged or entitled to do so”. The Minister is constitutionally required to account to the South African public for the spending of public funds via the National Assembly. There is therefore a constitutional obligation on him to reveal how and on whom the R200 million was wasted – although he is not required to reveal the actual security measures in place at Nkandla. The last time I checked, the Constitution trumps any law passed by the PW Botha regime, which means his attempt at avoiding accountability is not in line with the Constitution.

If there were really serious concerns about the safety of the President (who knows, maybe we are not being told about an imminent invasion of South Africa by the Lesotho navy), any aspects of the report dealing with actual security measures the National Assembly could deal with such circumscribed aspects of the report in camera, while the rest could be made public. Such justifiably “secret” information would relate to details about where guards are stationed, when they rotate, what weaponry they have at their disposal, the nature of the security barriers erected and what escape routs are available to allow the President to escape ahead of the invading Lesotho navy.

But because the report does not deal with the security measures in place at President Zuma’s private palace, this would mean it would have to be made public in its entirety. Instead, the report deals wholly or in large part with how much money was spent on what kinds of upgrades the public paid for at President Zuma’s private palace at Nkandla. Besides, even by his own admission, “only” R117 million of the more than R200 million was actually spent on security related cost. Even on a most generous interpretation of the facts, the Minister has a legal duty to reveal those parts of the report not dealing with the R117 million so called “security upgrades”.

Of course, all these attempts by Nxesi to protect his boss – despite the harm this is doing to the ANC and the government – are futile. If the report is tabled in camera in a special committee created for this purpose, any member of the National Assembly who sits on this secret committee could then reveal extracts from the report whenever they have an opportunity to do so during sittings of the National Assembly. This would be so even if one agreed with Nxesi’s bizarre statement that the National Key Points Act prohibit the report from being made public.

This is so because section 58 of the Constitution states that all members of the National Assembly “are not liable to civil or criminal proceedings, arrest, imprisonment or damages for anything that they have said in, produced before or submitted to the Assembly or any of its committees; or anything revealed as a result of anything that they have said in, produced before or submitted to the Assembly or any of its committees.”

Opposition MPs could therefore not be prosecuted for revealing parts or all of the “secret” report in the Assembly. This just goes to show how futile Nxesi’s attempts at keeping details about the enrichment of our President will ultimately be. Given this fact, why he is bothering to protect his boss when this so clearly is not in the interest of the ANC and the government, perhaps says more about his own political ambitions and his lack of principles than it says about his loyalty to the ANC and to the citizens of South Africa.

Do members of traditional communities have any democratic rights?

The Constitution recognises the institution, status and role of traditional leadership, according to customary law, but requires that this be done in conformity with the other provisions in the Constitution. This is not an easy task, as traditional leadership is, by definition, undemocratic and hence not easily reconcilable with the democratic ethos of the Constitution. In a recent Constitutional Court judgment, sharp divisions emerged between the justices about the constitutional rights of the members of a traditional community who are unhappy with what they see as the authoritarian and nepotistic actions of the recognised traditional leadership of their Traditional Community. 

In Pilane and Another v Pilane and Another the applicants — residents of the Motlhabe village, one of 32 villages that comprise the Bakgatla-Ba-Kgafela Traditional Community in the Pilansberg area of North West Province – challenged a High Court decision to grant three interdicts that restrained them from convening a meeting to discuss possible secession of the Motlhabe village from the Traditional Community and from passing themselves off as recognised traditional leaders. They wanted to secede because they claimed resources did not reach their village but are used for the benefit of those loyal to the Traditional Council and the Kgosi. The secession claim might also have been fueled by a longstanding leadership dispute about who was the true headman of the Motlhabe village.

After receiving advice from two government officials from the Department of Local Government and Traditional Affairs that an application to secede had to be made to, and could be granted by, the Premier in terms of the Framework Act and the North West Act, the applicants decided to invite the residents of the Motlhabe village, as well as four neighbouring villages, to a meeting to discuss the matter. Reading between the lines, this was seen as a direct challenge to the authority of the senior traditional leader or Kgosi of the Traditional Community.

What happened next does not sound like something that one would expect to happen in a democracy: a member of the South African Police Service telephoned the first applicant and advised that he would be arrested if the meeting took place. Respect for freedom of speech and assembly within the framework of the South African law, was not something the Police and Kgosi was going to countenance.  The meeting was then cancelled. Because of a miscommunication the Kgosi approached the High Court for an interdict, believing the meeting would go ahead. As the majority in the Constitutional Court (per Skweyiya J – Moseneke DCJ, Cameron J, Froneman J, Jafta J, Khampepe J, Van der Westhuizen J and Zondo J concurring) explained:

The gravamen of the respondents’ complaint in the High Court was that the applicants were meeting to further what the respondents characterised as an unlawful attempt to secede from the Traditional Community.

The respondents argued that the applicants wanted to call a Kgotha Kgothe – a traditional gathering at which members of a traditional community publicly debate and decide on matters affecting the community, which may include evaluating and criticising the performance of their leaders. They claimed a Kgotha Kgothe may only be convened by the Kgosi or his authorised appointee, like a Kgosana. The applicants disagreed, claiming that it may be convened either at a village or traditional community level and may be convened either by the appointed Kgosana or by the community itself in the absence of the Kgosana where he fails to convene a Kgotha Kgothe. In any case, they said, they wanted to convene a community meeting to discuss secession, which is not the same as a Kgotha Kgothe.

As the majority pointed out, where such a dispute of fact on the papers arise, the a court is obliged (because of the Plascon-Evans rule) to decide the matter on the basis of the averments of the applicants (the repondents in the original High Court application). This is important because if we assume that the applicants had a right to convene a Kgotha Kgothe in terms of customary law, the respondents would be unable to show that they had a clear right that was being threatened and no interdict could be granted to stop their opponents from meeting. On this point alone the High Court was therefore wrong to grant the interdict.

Although this should have been the end of the matter, the majority also addressed the argument that those who organised the meeting tried to pass themselves off as the legitimate traditional leaders of the region by appropriating the identity, authority or powers of the respondents. The argument was that if they did do so, the rights of the respondents would be threatened and the granting of an interdict would have been justified. However, the majority pointed out that:

Both the contents and context of the invitation could only have portrayed the applicants, being would-be secessionists, in a way that emphasised the distinction between them and the respondents…. [T]he terms and tenor of their attempted meeting, as contained in this invitation, speak to the very disassociation from the respondents that they seek.

According to the majority, at the heart of this series of interdicts was an attempt by the Kgosi to curtail the democratic rights of disaffected members of the Traditional Community. The majority linked the right to freedom of expression, association and assembly to the health of our democracy, arguing that “there is an inherent value in allowing dissenting voices to be heard and, in doing so, permitting robust discussion which strengthens our democracy and its institutions”. The majority therefore described the attempt to deny the dissenters this right as “disquieting”, especially “considering the underlying dissonance within the Traditional Community and the applicants’ numerous unsuccessful attempts to have this resolved”.

The minority judgment (authored jointly by Chief Justice Mogoeng and Justice Nkabinde) demonstrates a far less robust approach to the rights of disaffected members of a Traditional Community and displays a rather autocratic approach to dealing with dissenting voices in traditional communities. The tone of the judgment is also surprisingly emotional for a judicial opinion, making no bones about whose side its authors are on:

This application has a long and toxic history. It has its genesis in concerted efforts by the first applicant and his father over the years to assume the headmanship of the Motlhabe community. The basis for this claim was that the current lawfully appointed and recognised headman and his father were, according to the applicants, not the legitimate traditional leaders of that community. When it became apparent that none of the senior traditional leaders of the community of the Bakgatla–Ba–Kgafela in Botswana and South Africa were persuaded by the leadership claim of the first applicant, the latter chose to act as if he were the headman of Motlhabe and virtually ceased to recognise the first respondent as his traditional leader.

The main applicant is chastised because by expressing dissent he “threatened to undermine the position of the Kgosi, the certificate of recognition and the order and sanctity of the hierarchy of the Moruleng traditional community”. The idea that in a democracy, citizens – even those who reside in a Traditional Community – should have a right to express dissent, is not explored in the minority judgment.

The minority then ignores the well established legal rule that when a dispute of fact on the papers arise, a court is obliged to decide the matter on the basis of the averments the respondents (the applicants in the Constitutional Court). Instead, the minority makes a finding that a people’s assembly can only be convened by a particular leader who has the authority to do so and within his or her area of jurisdiction.

The inference is irresistible that what they sought to achieve was to replace the alleged “no longer legitimate leadership” with their own leadership or governance structure, which they described in the invitations as the “Motlhabe Tribal Authority”, thereby approbating to themselves symbols of state in order to claim legitimacy for and to bolster their conduct…. In the circumstances, the respondents, as the lawful authorities were entitled to approach the High Court to resist the usurpation of their rights by the applicants, who had no authority under customary law and the relevant statutes to convene a meeting of that nature and form.

The minority argued that the limitation of the right to freedom of expression and free assembly (a limitation imposed by the court when it granted an interdict) was justified to stop the “unilateral declaration of independence” which threatened the authority of the Traditional Leadership. In language that may remind some of a previous era before the advent of democracy, the minority issues the following dire warning:

Disorderliness is on the rise in this country and traditional communities are no exception. If it were to be permissible, the applicants’ form of secession would have to be led by a legally-recognised leader of the community. Meetings that are meant to pave the way for secession should not be clothed with authority the applicants do not enjoy. … In addition, the convening of a general meeting of almost all the villagers in Motlhabe as well as people from neighbouring villages without any legal authority had the potential of creating factions and disorder which could make the Moruleng community ungovernable. In the circumstances, it cannot be said that the apprehension of harm was not reasonable.

This sharp disagreement in the Constitutional Court on whether to protect the rights of those who wish to express their displeasure with the conduct of leaders undemocratically imposed on them, suggest two radically different views of the role of traditional leadership in our democracy. It may also hint at differences between justices about the value of dissent and the right of those who wish to criticise their leaders (democratically elected or undemocratically imposed).

Defamation and social media: We have moved on from Jane Austen

There is something about internet websites and social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter that seem to bring out the worst in people. Otherwise reasonably decent people who might well carefully weigh their words (and may be polite and generous to friends and acquaintances in private) can become raving hatemongers and irresponsible tattletales on these platforms. In theory, they expose themselves to defamation claims or even – in extreme cases – contempt of court proceedings. While this is probably not going to stop the orgy of half-baked opinions, uninformed speculation and defamatory rants from proliferating on the internet, I am not sure that this is as harmful as some might think.  

Yesterday on Twitter a faceless individual tweeting under the handle “idononothing” railed against “corrupt afrikaaner judges who make deals with afrikaaner prosecutors” (while declining to provide details of the alleged corruption and the names of the corrupt judges and the deals made), before turning his or her ire on me, complaining: “But u report on issues tht only follow ur white supremacy agenda.”

These tweets got me thinking about whether the law should distinguish between defamatory statements published in the old style media and those published on social media websites, and between statements published by “professional” journalists and statements and opinion published by those who are not paid by media institutions to share their views or insights. It also made me wonder whether the law of defamation is of much use in the modern social media world and whether it is advisable for the law to attempt to regulate this somewhat chaotic and cacophonous space.

The law of defamation seeks to protect the interest individuals have in their reputation. If someone makes a statement about you that would tend to lower your esteem in the eyes of others, he or she is defaming you. Anyone familiar with the novels of Jane Austen would know that there was a time in the United Kingdom when a person’s reputation was a pivotal commodity that could determine his or her success in life. The law of defamation aimed to protect this reputation and as such was very much the product of a specific (colonial and Victorian) time and place. To what extent this set of legal rules are relevant in a modern, electronically connected, African state is open to question.

The law assumes that statements attacking your character will normally have the effect of lowering your reputation (and your standing and life chances) in the eyes of others. If someone claims that you are corrupt, a racist or a sexist, a murderer, a wife beater, a drunkard, or a dishonest person, this will be presumed to defame you because it will be presumed that the statement would lead other people to think less highly of you. It is further assumed that such a lowering of your reputation will potentially have catastrophic consequences for your life – something not born out by the lives of the Kardashians or Paris Hilton. That is why the reputation-lowering statements remain defamatory – even when they are true.

Once you have convinced a court that statements made about you are defamatory, it is presumed that the publication was both unlawful and intentional. If you want to avoid liability for making such prima facie defamatory statements, you will have to raise a defence which either shows that the statements were not made intentionally or were not unlawful. As the Constitutional Court explained in Khumalo v Holomisa:

Although not a closed list, the most commonly raised defences to rebut unlawfulness are that the publication was true and in the public benefit; that the publication constituted fair comment and that the publication was made on a privileged occasion.

This means you will not be liable for defamation if you can show to a court that what you had said was both true and was on a matter that was in the public interest. Making true statements about a friend on a matter of no public interest remains defamatory. It also means that if you are a columnist or cartoonist and you make adverse or even scathing defamatory comments about another person on a matter of public interest, you will have a defence to a defamation claim, unless there is no factual basis for the comment or you made the comments with malice. And if you make defamatory statements as a witness in court, you will not be liable for those statements as statements made during judicial proceedings would have been made on a privileged occasion.

Under the influence of the freedom of expression provision in the Constitution our courts have developed another defence that the mass media can invoke to justify the publication of defamatory statements. This defence is not open to ordinary citizens. The Constitutional Court in Khumalo explained the unique position of the mass media as follows:

In a democratic society, then, the mass media play a role of undeniable importance. They bear an obligation to provide citizens both with information and with a platform for the exchange of ideas which is crucial to the development of a democratic culture. As primary agents of the dissemination of information and ideas, they are, inevitably, extremely powerful institutions in a democracy and they have a constitutional duty to act with vigour, courage, integrity and responsibility. The manner in which the media carry out their constitutional mandate will have a significant impact on the development of our democratic society. If the media are scrupulous and reliable in the performance of their constitutional obligations, they will invigorate and strengthen our fledgling democracy. If they vacillate in the performance of their duties, the constitutional goals will be imperilled.

For this reason the Court affirmed a Supreme Court of Appeal (SCA) judgment which had developed a rule that even if a publisher cannot establish beyond all doubt that a defamatory statement was true, it could still publish the statement if it would be “disproportionately expensive or difficult” to establish the truth – but only if the publisher can show that that “in all the circumstances the publication was reasonable”. This rule requires the media to take reasonable care before publishing a defamatory statement which they cannot prove to be true. It attempts to balance the interest of citizens in an open and democratic society to be informed of public events, on the one hand, against the personal interests of the defamed person on the other. As the Constitutional Court stated:

In determining whether publication was reasonable, a court will have regard to the individual’s interest in protecting his or her reputation in the context of the constitutional commitment to human dignity. It will also have regard to the individual’s interest in privacy. In that regard, there can be no doubt that persons in public office have a diminished right to privacy, though of course their right to dignity persists. It will also have regard to the crucial role played by the press in fostering a transparent and open democracy. …[T]the defence of reasonable publication will encourage editors and journalists to act with due care and respect for the individual interest in human dignity prior to publishing defamatory material, without precluding them from publishing such material when it is reasonable to do so.

Several intriguing questions arise from this.

First, is this defence that a defamatory statement was published under reasonable circumstances open to journalists who use Twitter to report or comment on events, given the fact that the tweet has not actually been published in a newspaper or aired on radio or TV? Given the fact that the line between traditional old style media and new media is blurring, it is difficult to know how a court will respond and where it will draw the line. But I would think Twitter has become such an integral part of delivering news to the public in a modern democracy that the reasonableness defence should be open to journalist-tweeters who tweet on current events.

Second, would the court extend this defence to people who are not full-time journalists and who publish news reports or opinion pieces on Blogs or community-based websites like Groundup? And what about bloggers and other opinion makers who post opinions about current events on Twitter or Facebook? I can see no reason why either the platform used for the reporting or the identity of the author should make a difference to the rule. I would therefore argue that those who publish news reports and opinion pieces on Blogs or websites should also be allowed to invoke the reasonableness defence because these reports and opinion pieces fulfil the same function as those published on traditional media platforms.

Third, how should the law deal with people whose Tweets or Facebook posts have nothing to do with their job descriptions? If they post comments on issues of public concern or about public figures on these social media sites, can they invoke a defence of reasonableness? Recently the South Gauteng High Court granted an interdict, ordering someone to remove her defamatory comments about another person from the social media site. But these comments related to a private person, so the judgment hinged on the fact that the publication of the defamatory claims were not in the public interest. How should the law deal with comments about a political or other public figures posted on Facebook or Twitter by a private citizen?

My personal view on this is rather radical. I believe that in a modern democracy in which many people have access to the internet (and especially to social media sites like Twitter and Facebook) it is impossible to regulate robust, rude and even downright defamatory discussions on public events and on public figures. People will believe what they want to believe about a public figure or about an event and will usually make up their minds after accessing a selective amount of information about that person on the internet (and maybe elsewhere). As a general rule, it will all come out in the wash and really scurrilous and hurtful comments about a person will not be believed (or will be believed by only a few people) because the counter narrative created by all the other views and opinions on Twitter and Facebook will take the sting out of untrue defamatory statements made about a person.

I believe that a person’s reputation in modern day South Africa is far less important than it was in colonial Britain – no matter what the self-serving politicians might claim. Our reputations have also become far less regulated and pampered as a result. As we lead more public lives and advertise our comings and goings on Facebook, as we are supposed to ignore class and social status, and as more people insist – rightly or wrongly – that they judge other people solely on individual merit (leaving aside the toxic influence of racial prejudice), it is unclear why the legal rules remain so obsessed with the protection of our reputations. The law might have to be reserved for cases in which malicious people deliberately publish defamatory statements about other people with the sole intention  of harming them.

Not in a million years will I personally ever consider suing someone like “idononothing” for defamation because he called me a “white supremacist”. Although this is a highly defamatory statement, I would trust Twitter and Facebook – as well as other forms of media, including my own Blog and access to the Daily Maverick – to present another side of the story, which will limit any potential damage to my reputation (such as it might be).

When you sue somebody for defamation, you usually make things worse by attracting attention to the offensive comment. When you do not laugh off a slightly unhinged comment like that, your response sends a signal that the comment really hurt you and might actually be close to the truth. And if you then threaten to sue or actually sue, you might well further harm any reputation you might have left – instead of protecting it from harm. When somebody says something defamatory about me I usually laugh and instinctively feel pity for the person who is so damaged that he or she has to resort to insults to make him or herself feel better about themselves. More politicians and public figures should keep this in mind.

Oscar Pistorius: why media reporting is not infringing on sub judice rule

Shocking allegations, suggesting that Oscar Pistorius murdered Reeva Steenkamp in cold blood in a fit of rage, was published in City Press yesterday. The publication of these allegations (which one assumes emanated from somewhere inside the SAPS) illustrates that the so called sub judice rule is no longer in existence in its original guise in South Africa. It also illustrates that in the court of public opinion the notion of “innocent until proven guilty” (as well as appeals to the sub judice rule) are often used by those blindly and loyally supporting a criminal accused (regardless the alleged facts) to try and avoid admitting that their guy might very well be a criminal. These two issues are intimately related with one another.

In a criminal justice system in which criminal trials are heard by a jury of ordinary citizens, relatively strict rules are often in place to regulate reporting on criminal cases. Where incriminating allegations against an accused flood the media before the start of a trial, the minds of potential jury members might be contaminated as they might form a strong opinion about the guilt or innocence of the accused – long before the state begins to present the evidence against that accused in court.

The sub judice rule is often used for the purpose of regulating reporting on criminal cases before the courts to prevent this from happening. Where the proper administration of justice may be prejudiced or interfered with, this would constitute a breach of the sub judice rule and a person guilty of such interference could be found guilty of the offence of contempt of court.

This principle also operates in a constitutional democracy, as the right to a fair trial will be infringed if presiding officers prejudge issues that are under judicial consideration, or if improper pressure is brought to bear on witnesses or judicial officers involved in a criminal trial. The right to a fair trial must, however, be balanced against the right to freedom of expression. This balance will be struck differently in a country with a jury system than in a country with a system like ours where judges or magistrates hear criminal cases without the assistance of a jury.

Taking into account the constitutional guarantee to freedom of expression as well as the fact that the jury system was entirely abolished in South Africa in 1969, the Supreme Court of Appeal (SCA) in effect gutted the sub judice rule in 2007 in the case of Midi Television (Pty) Ltd v Director of Public Prosecutions (Western Cape). In that judgment the SCA confirmed that the broad scope of this rule which was in force in the pre-democratic era has been severely curtailed by the Constitution. In the context of pre-publication censorship imposed on the media in relation to reporting of criminal cases, Nugent JA, writing for a full bench of five judges, summarised the new position as follows:

[A] publication will be unlawful, and thus susceptible to being prohibited, only if the prejudice that the publication might cause to the administration of justice is demonstrable and substantial and there is a real risk that the prejudice will occur if publication takes place. Mere conjecture or speculation that prejudice might occur will not be enough. Even then publication will not be unlawful unless a court is satisfied that the disadvantage of curtailing the free flow of information outweighs its advantage. In making that evaluation it is not only the interests of those who are associated with the publication that need to be brought to account but, more important, the interests of every person in having access to information.

This test must be applied in the light of the principle set out in President of the Republic of South Africa and Others v South African Rugby Football Union and Others, which affirmed that judicial officers will be presumed to be impartial in adjudicating disputes. In this case, in which the late Louis Luyt asked several judges of the Constitutional Court to recuse themselves from the hearing because of an apprehension that they would be biased against him, the Constitutional Court argued that this presumption “is based on the recognition that legal training and experience prepare judges for the often difficult task of fairly determining where the truth may lie in a welter of contradictory evidence”. Unlike jurors, judges will not easily be swayed by gossip or even by serious and credible allegations about an accused in a criminal case published in the media.

This means that publications of allegations about a criminal case will almost never be thought to pose a “real risk of prejudice” to an accused. Of course, if a newspaper rushes into publication with incriminating allegations about a criminal trial and this information turns out to be untrue, the acquitted person could always sue the newspaper for defamation. But that is a separate matter to the question of whether the accused would be able to receive a fair trial.

Ordinary citizens are thought to be far more likely to jump to conclusions than trained judges. We often make judgements about the guilt or innocence of an accused long before the criminal trial has been concluded, often based partly on media reporting and partly on our own emotional and ideological commitments. Who among us have not assumed that those charged with the brutal rape and murder of Anene Booysen are guilty of the crimes they are being prosecuted for? Some called the accused in that case “monsters” involved in a horrible crime. (I suspect some of the same people who thought or said such things are referring to the killing of Reeva Steenkamp as a “tragic event” and are rather sympathetic to Oscar Pistorius, either because he is famous,  because he is white, because he is rich, or because he is a man with a gun.)

Similarly, even in the face of serious and credible allegations published in the media that a politician was guilty of fraud or corruption, some would continue to support that politician (invoking the mantra of “innocent until proven guilty”), because of emotional and ideological reasons which have nothing to do with the credibility of the allegations published in the media. ANC members will often pretend allegations against an ANC leader was never made, while DA members will try and argue that the allegations made against one of their own were cooked up by the ANC. The opposite is also true: a staunch DA or ANC member will often assume that a leader from the opposite party is guilty of corruption on the basis of the flimsiest of allegations.

The fact is that in an open and democratic society (one that is deeply divided by our past but in which a free press is flourishing), it is inevitable that citizens will make assumptions about the guilt or innocence of an accused and that such assumptions will often have just as much to do with the credibility of the allegations published in the media than with the prejudices and emotional and ideological commitments of the individual citizens.

One can try and moderate these impulses by warning citizens that a person has not actually been convicted and by pointing out that facts often emerge at a trial that cast a different light on the allegations reported in the media, but that is not going to stop people taking sides and making assumptions about the guilt or innocence of an accused. It also does not absolve us of our responsibility to make (tentative) moral judgments about people based on all the available evidence. To hold otherwise is to require us to abdicate our responsibility as thinking citizens.

That is why I am thankful we do not have a jury system in South Africa. While I would normally trust judges to keep an open mind and to focus on facts actually proven by the state, I would not trust a jury of South African men and women to make decisions based on the facts instead of their own emotions and prejudices.

Who needs the Ministerial Handbook if you can rely on the (secret) Presidential Manual

We have all heard of the infamous Ministerial Handbook that regulates the benefits and perks of public office bearers, including cabinet ministers, Premiers and MEC’s – the Father Christmas list for politicians in government. Now we are told that neither the President nor the Deputy President is bound by the provisions of the Ministerial Handbook. We are now told that there is a secret Presidential Manual regulating the perks of the President and the Deputy President. Does this Manual actually exist and if so, can it really be said to be top secret?

When the scandal about the wasteful expenditure of more than R200 million of public funds on the private home of President Zuma broke, the Minister of Public Works, Thulas Nxesi issued a statement in which he claimed that the spending was justified by the Ministerial Handbook, stating on 1 October 2012 that:

The Department of Public Works is in terms of the Ministerial Handbook responsible for general maintenance, renovations and upgrading of State-Owned and Private Residences of Members of Cabinet including that of the President. I would like to state categorically that everything that has been approved and carried out at the private residence of the current President is in line with the Ministerial Handbook as far as it relates to security arrangements for private residences of the President. This is also the normal practice for the former presidents of South Africa.

Nxesi also revealed that Nkandla had been declared a National Key Point (although it later emerged that this was done only a year after the upgrade at Nkandla commenced) and that all details about money spent at Nkandla was therefore a state secret. He further claimed that City Press (who broke the story) was illegally in possession of a “top secret document” (later revealed to have been tabled in Parliament) and called for an investigation to determine how the City Press illegally ended up in possession of this document.

After some of us pointed out that the Ministerial Handbook only allows security upgrades at the private residence of a public office bearer like the President to the tune of R100 000, and that Nxesi’s statement was therefore demonstrably false, Nxesi changed his story. Having been caught out in a fib, he had to come up with another explanation for the R200 million upgrade of Nkandla.

On 27 January 2013 he therefore issued another statement, claiming that a secret internal investigation had shown that it was the responsibility of Public Works to upgrade the President’s private home, and that this was regulated by a “Cabinet Decision of 20 August 2003 which is now known as the Policy on Security Measures at Private Residences of the President, Deputy President and former Presidents and Deputy Presidents”. The report produced after the secret internal investigation was itself kept secret, so it is impossible to ascertain whether such a  report actually exists and if it exists, whether Nxesi’s representation of what was in this report was accurate or not.

Last week this “cabinet decision” or “policy” invoked by Nxesi after his Ministerial Handbook defence was shown to be false, evolved into a “Presidential Manual”. This was revealed when Deputy President Kgalema Motlanthe’s spokesperson, Thabo Masebe, justified te spending of R2 million of public funds on transport for a private holiday by the Deputy President by invoking a newly revealed “Presidential Manual”. Masebe claimed that the “Presidential Manual” was finalised in 2006, but that the Manual is a confidential document that will not be released like the Ministerial Handbook.

In 2006 the previous Public Protector investigated trip that the then Deputy President, Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, took to the United Arab Emirates and found that there was no finalised policy dealing with who pays for the travel arrangements of President’s and Deputy President’s on private visits. Last year Nxesi did not know about the existence of such a policy or a Manual. This year we are told that the Manual was finalised in 2006 but that it is secret.

A few questions arise from this curious state of affairs. First, does this Presidential Manual actually exist? None of us have ever seen it. Neither have we ever been informed that such a Manual has been finalised. Maybe, like the emperor’s clothes, it is a document that we are asked to pretend to exist to placate the sovereign. When Minister Nxesi first had to defend the Nkandla splurge he invoked the Ministerial Handbook and said nothing about this top secret Presidential Manual. Even people more trusting of politicians than myself would raise an eyebrow.

Second, if it exists, can it override the publicly available Ministerial Handbook? Surely, a secret document not known to anyone cannot override a publicly available document? The Ministerial Handbook incorporates the Executive Members Ethics Code and gives effect to the relevant ethics legislation. Whether a secret cabinet decision (if there was one) can trump a publicly available document giving effect to a parliamentary law is open to question.

Third, on what legal basis is this Presidential Manual being kept secret? Is there a law that authorises the classification of this document (if it exists) as secret? As far as I am aware there is no law authorising secrecy around such a document. It cannot possibly threaten state security to know what perks the President and the Deputy President are entitled to. Anyone holding otherwise really should take their anti-paranoid pills more regularly. As no one has been able to point to a law that would authorise this secrecy, I would assume this claim of secrecy is bogus. If anyone wishes to leak the document to me (maybe to prove that it indeed exists) I will be happy to post it on my Blog, secure in the knowledge that there is no law prohibiting its publication.

Of course, what this demonstrates is just exactly how easily the Secrecy Bill could and almost certainly would be abused to avoid openness, accountability and transparency in government. When you have spent more than R200 million on the personal enrichment of an elected official (who happens to be –temporarily at least – the President of the country), it is understandable that you would abuse the notion of secrecy to try and hide the facts from the public whose money was used to enrich the President. Accountability is usually only invited when you follow the rules.

Secrecy is toxic because it encourages illegality and abuse of power. When the very documents which the public needs to hold the executive accountable is kept secret, it allows the executive to evade accountability and undermines the democratic process. Secrecy is not primarily about the infringement of the media’s right to report what it likes. It is about citizens being robbed of their democratic right to hold the elected government to account and to decide for themselves whether they wish to vote for the governing party to renew its mandate or to lend their vote to an opposition party in the hope of a fresh start. Secrecy robs voters of their right to exercise their vote in a meaningful way.

PS: After this post was published, Presidential Spin Doctor, Mac maharaj claimed on 702 Radio that the Presidential Manual did not exist.  See http://www.citypress.co.za/politics/motlanthe-spokesperson-sticks-to-his-guns-on-island-holiday/

Sexwale allegations: are we serious about violence against women or not?

Yesterday the Sunday Times carried a front page article in which it reported on shocking allegations made by Judy Sexwale against her husband Tokyo Sexwale during their on-going divorce battle. Judy accuses her husband of having subjected her to “physical, verbal, mental [and] emotional abuse and cruelty.” The physical abuse aspects of the story did not cause a stir. Instead, the Sunday Times was widely mocked and criticised for publishing it on its front page. “None of our business,” many people argued. Are most South Africans so used to violence against women (recent platitudes about their abhorrence of rape notwithstanding) or is the long abolished cautionary rule in sexual offense cases still embedded so deeply in the minds of patriarchal South Africans, that Judy’s allegations of spousal abuse were dismissed out of hand as either irrelevant or untrue?

In most democracies, serious allegations by a wife that her cabinet minister husband physically abused her would create a political storm. Journalists would rush to the cabinet minister’s house to hear his side of the story. The governing party would be hounded for comment. The big newspapers would send a crack team of reporters to try and dig up information that would either verify or disprove the allegations. They would speak to friends and acquaintances of the couple to hear if these allegations were known to anyone. They would probably also have pursued the question of whether Judy had any reason to fabricate these allegations.

They would have done so for two reasons. First, they want to sell newspapers and they know the story would satisfy the prurient interests of their readers. Second, they understand that in a democracy politicians are accountable to the voters and that politicians can only be held accountable if voters have the relevant facts – whatever these facts might be. One relevant fact (if eventually shown to be true) that would automatically end a politician’s career is that the politician is a wife-beater.

In South Africa: nothing.

Some patriarchs say that the allegations of spousal abuse made against Tokyo Sexwale must be false because women often lie about such things to get a bigger divorce settlement. Oh dear, the abolished cautionary rule rearing its ugly head again in the form of “common sense” bigotry. Members of the media – too busy chasing like a mad pack of dogs after the hot and sexy story of the month (which happens to be rape and not spousal abuse) – are too lazy or care too little about violence against women to pursue the matter. Or perhaps the story is too complex for the media to handle. As there are no easy answers and as the facts are not clear, better not touch these allegations – let’s rush to Bredasdorp instead and see if we can dig up some dirt.

Others say the cabinet minister is innocent until proven guilty and so we should not ask questions about whether the allegations are true because this would prejudice the minister. This is nonsense. Our Constitution guarantees every accused the right to a fair trial, which includes the right of an accused to be considered innocent by the court of law until such time as the state may have proven its case against him or her. It does not prevent us from asking whether serious allegations of criminal conduct are true or not. Where accusation are made against a cabinet minister and where such accusations go to the heart of his suitability to be a cabinet minister, it is clearly in the public interest to publish it – unless there is clear evidence that the allegations were fabricated. We cannot assume Sexwale is a wife beater. But neither can we assume that he is not.

Only a court can determine criminal guilt. But facts do not stop being facts merely because they have not yet been confirmed by a court. One fact in the Tokyo Sexwale case that we know is true is that Judy Sexwale has accused her husband of physically abusing her. This fact will not disappear because we stick our heads in the sand and try to ignore it because of some misguided attempt to protect “one of our own”.

The suspects in the Anene Booysen rape and murder case are also innocent until proven guilty. A court has not made any finding as to their guilt. Should that stop the media from reporting on the known facts around the case in fear of prejudicing the accused and creating the impression that they are guilty of rape and murder? Or is there one set of rules for rural poor men accused of violence against women and another for a rich, urbane, cabinet minister? After all, Sexwale is “one of us”, so it would make us feel more worthy and pious to believe him than to keep an open mind about whether he abused his wife or not.

In a democracy, it is the job of the media to find out what the relevant facts are and to tell us about these facts. Personally, I do not think it is relevant that Minister Sexwale is getting divorced: it is none of my business whether he is married or divorce and I could not care less about the personal squabbles of the couple. But if I know one thing it is this: in a constitutional democracy it is profoundly relevant that his wife accused him of physically abusing her as this accusation goes to the heart of his suitability to remain in politics.

Only the most brazenly sexist among us would argue that whether a cabinet minister is a wife beater or not is not a relevant issue that citizens have a right to be informed about. Of course, in this case the facts might eventually show that the claims against the minister are entirely baseless. But we do not know that yet. And without exposure in the media we are never likely to know, either whether he is a wife beater or an innocent man being framed. And assuming that the accusations made by Judy Sexwale are false or that they are none of our business because they have not been reported to the police previously, demonstrate exactly the kind of patriarchal attitudes which I claimed in an earlier post lies at the heart of the rape culture in South Africa.

Which brings me back to the question many asked after my last piece: if we are not going to take part in cheap publicity stunts and self-satisfied expressions of outrage about rape, what is to be done about addressing sexual violence in society?

First, we must take steps that would reduce the prevalence of sexual violence in our society. A comprehensive educational drive to help citizens analyse, critique and ultimately reject the rape culture we live in, would be a starting point.

Surely, as we speak the Minister of Basic Education must be formulating urgent plans on how to integrate questions of destructive masculinity, sex and gender inequality and problems with patriarchy into the school curriculum to counter the deeply held belief among many in our society that men own women and their bodies and can possess and dominate them (both emotionally and physically) as they please?

Every institute of higher learning must be rushing to introduce a compulsory first year course for all students, teaching them about how sex, gender, race, sexual orientation, class and disability are deployed by dominant groups to assert their power over (and to continue their subjugation of) non-dominant groups. Education can at least begin to break down stereotypes and unexamined attitudes of superiority that reinforce the subordination of disempowered groups and perpetuate the false sense of superiority of historically dominant groups. Here at UCT, we can institute an investigation on why the Humanities Faculty cancelled the only course in diversity literacy at the end of last year and we can ask what this says about our University’s commitment to breaking down racist, sexist and homophobic attitudes of students.

In churches, mosques and synagogues religious leaders should be rushing to tell their congregants that they will stop their sentimental infantilising of women, which sends the signal that women remain the property of men, albeit property that must be looked after relatively carefully – especially if women “behave” themselves and do not act as if they are free to go where they please and do what they please. Most religious leaders will have to repent and will have to admit that they have contributed (and continue to contribute) to the oppression of women and the reification of masculinity and male power.

And of course, every political leader should go beyond vague and self-serving statements about how they condemn brutal rape, and start talking about the causes of rape and propose solutions to address these causes. They must talk about the destructive manifestations of masculinity that turn many men into oppressors and rapists; they must talk about the absence of male role models who can teach male children that they should reject the forms of destructive masculinity that is supposed to imbue often broken and easily humiliated men with a false sense of pride and self-worth; they must talk about the patriarchal attitudes that live in the hearts of most South African men – whether they are traditional leaders, politicians, sportsmen or the ordinary soccer or rugby loving man who make rape jokes with his buddies or assert his dominance over them by telling them he will make them his “bitch”.

Second, we must take steps to apprehend the perpetrators of violence against women and get them convicted of their crimes. This would require a complete transformation of the criminal justice system. Let’s start with South African Police Service (SAPS), whose members and leadership will have to be trained about what the legal definition of rape is, how to treat a rape survivor with respect, how to take a decent statement from the survivor, how to gather the other evidence in the least invasive way, and how to prepare a case docket that could lead to conviction of the perpetrator. They will have to be taught not to dismiss accusations of rape out of hand because of their own prejudices or hatred of women. They will have to be taught how to deal with forensic evidence and how to follow up clues and how to apprehend suspects living in the community and known to that community. It would also help if they all suddenly stopped being homophobic and ended what often looks like the deliberate botching of rape case investigations against lesbians.

We will have to retrain our prosecutors and the NPA leadership and teach them that the evidentiary rule that assumes the testimony of rape complainants must be treated with caution has long since been discarded; that they should not drop cases merely because the complainant was not brutally attacked or because they suspect (because of their own prejudices) that the complainant just voluntarily exposed herself to the unspeakable ordeal of laying a rape charge because “women are prone to do that kind of thing”; that they must conduct their cases in a manner that would protect the complainants against cross examination about the complainants’ previous sexual history and must learn to protect complainants from the vicious character attacks by counsel defending the accused.

We need to re-educate judges about rape and about the minimum sentences that they are mandated to impose. We need to educate them about the fact that they have to impose minimum sentences for convicted rapist, unless serious and compelling reasons exist not to. They must be taught that it is not – as Chief Justice Mogoeng argued in a High Court judgment – a serious and compelling reason to reduce the minimum sentence of a child rapist because the rape was allegedly committed in a “tender” manner. (Nor is it a serious and compelling reason to reduce the sentence because the rapist was young/ the rapist was older; the rapist did not have a job/ or had a job; the rapist knew the victim/ the rapist did not know the victim; the rapist was educated/ the rapist was note educated – all factors used in the past by our courts to justify not imposing a minimum sentence.)

Third we need to protect and nurture the survivors of rape. The state needs to establish rape crisis centres across the country or adequately fund the existing rape crisis centres. While we wait for the state to do so (and we will probably wait very long because the Minister of Women and Children is herself not particularly sympathetic to those who claim they are abused by men), we can all donate money to rape crisis or volunteer our time to assist rape crisis (see http://rapecrisis.org.za/support-us/donate/).

How many of these proposals will find favour and will actually be implemented by those in charge? As things stand now, very few to none. This is because the cheap outrage about rape cost nothing while the kind of actions I propose will require real political will (and a real understanding of the problem) to implement. We will only manage to force the government and others to do these things if we organise in ways that go beyond cheap publicity stunts and if we can manage to put real political pressure on the government, on schools, on religious groups on universities on our colleagues and our family.

On Steven Friedman’s incoherent conflation of criticism with censorship

South Africa is not a country in which freedom of expression is much respected or understood. At the time when the controversy raged around Brett Murray’s painting, The Spear, many artists, commentators and defenders of Murray wrongly conflated the right to free expression with his (non-existent) right not to be criticised, while others wrongly claimed that the artist did not have the right to offend either them or the President. Now Prof Steven Friedman comes close to conflating criticism of the governing party’s intolerant reaction to a First National Bank (FNB) advertising campaign with censorship. If we want to understand freedom of expression we need to be able to differentiate between criticism and censorship. Unfortunately, Friedman does not seem capable of doing so.

Friedman rightly argues that if you attack a political party, it has a right to defend itself. But then he bizarrely states that those who accuse the ANC of bullying tactics towards FNB are, in effect, denying the ANC its right to free expression. In other words, a political party has a right to criticise its critics, but when critics respond to this criticism they are denying the political party the right to free speech. If I did not know any better I would have guessed that Friedman had smoked some of the good stuff before writing this muddled column.

There is a fundamental difference between disagreeing with others and silencing them. There is also a profound difference between censorship and arguing (rightly or wrongly) that another’s criticism reflects an intolerant attitude or a lack of respect for democratic discourse. By taking issue with how a political party is responding to criticism you are not silencing that political party: you are merely engaging in a frank debate about what you see as the deeply flawed values and assumptions underlying that party’s behaviour. You might be wrong in your analysis of the political party’s behaviour. But in a constitutional democracy you have a right to be wrong sometimes. And others have the right to point out why you are wrong. You are not denying a political party its right to enjoy freedom of expression merely because you accuse that party of behaving like a bully. To hold otherwise would be to prohibit anyone from challenging the powerful bullies in our society – all in the name of freedom of expression.

At the time of the heated contestation about The Spear I argued that while Brett Murray had every right to create the work of art, I thought the painting was both artistically bad and politically profoundly problematic. It borrowed — knowingly or not — from an archive of deeply offensive colonial depictions of naked black men to ridicule a current day black leader, turning The Spear into a work of colonial-inspired appropriation of black bodies.

By criticising the painting, I was not trying to censor Murray. Nor was I trying to limit his artistic freedom. He can paint what he likes and I would never support legislation that would limit this right. But we all have a right to express our opinion about The Spear and state why we like or dislike the painting and argue about the merits, if any, of our various opinions. And if you believe some of the criticism of The Spear was misplaced, self-serving or itself based on an undemocratic insistence that no one had a right to criticise or mock an elected politician, then you have the right to point that out too.

It would be different if I told Murray that he had no right to paint that picture and should be jailed for doing so, if I mobilised a group of people to try and force the artist or the gallery to take down the picture, or if I encouraged people to assault or kill the artist. When lively debate and critical engagement bleed into intimidation, hate speech and the abuse of power, we have reached the limits of freedom of expression.

In a democracy it is in this free space (in theory open to everyone) where artistic and political contestation is supposed to take place. This contestation will often be loud, messy and — it must be said — not entirely equal and fair. But it can only remain a contestation if people have a right to criticise others.

Because not all those taking part in the debate will have equal power, some voices will carry more weight than others, which can frustrate those who feel they are not heard and can lead to more violent forms of rhetoric or even violent protest action. Those who feel silenced will often try and shout louder (and in a more shrill tone) and, in extreme cases, will demand that the loudest voices be silenced.

The relative powers of those who speak depend on many factors, including the race, class and gender of the speaker and the actual political power enjoyed by the speaker. If you are poor and black and living in a rural village, your voice is probably not going to carry much weight in any national debate. However, if you are a leader of a large political party or a white middle class intellectual with quick access to the media (somebody like myself), you will probably not have a problem to be heard loud and clear.

It must be said that most South Africans – regardless of political affiliation — are not particularly tolerant of the views of others. They love it when you criticise those they oppose or hate, but launch ad hominem attacks and death threats against you if you criticise those they align themselves with. Sometimes, it feels to me, DA supporters are more intolerant of criticism than ANC supporters. But perhaps that is because many DA supporters speak from a position of relative power. When such intolerance (wrong as it is) stems from powerlessness, it is easy to understand. But often intolerance stems not from powerlessness but from arrogance, self-righteousness, power-hunger and anti-democratic tendencies.

Because many members of Afriforum do not like Julius Malema and because they feel guilty about the way in which they benefited (and continue to benefit) from racists exploitation and are fearful about the manner in which past injustices may be addressed, they demand the suppression of old struggle song — even when such songs are sung in contexts where they could not possibly encourage people to intimidate or attack any person or group. Because Blade Nzimande has not yet embraced the progressive freedoms protected in our Constitution (and perhaps because power has been more intoxicating to Nzimande than his fourth glass of wine) he demands the immediate destruction of a painting he finds obnoxious — even though that painting is not inciting violence or closing down the democratic space.

I agree with Steven Friedman that a political party (as opposed to the government of the day) has every right to angrily criticise an advert it disagrees with. I also agree that it was a spectacularly bad business decision of FNB to flight advertising material that had the potential to alienate the majority of its clients. In that sense, the bank did what all good capitalists would have done: they apologised for the “offensive” parts of the campaign to ensure that they do not alienate their customers.

However, Friedman is just dead wrong when he claims that criticism of the ANC’s response to the FNB advertising campaign denies the governing party its right to free speech. As far as I know, there was no court case trying to stop the ANC from criticising FNB. And as the ANC is the party of government, there was also no insistence that a law should be passed to prevent the ANC from trying to stop big companies like FNB from criticising it. Although it does not always act like it knows this, the ANC is also the governing party — with access to vast resources and control over the police and the criminal justice system — so there is no chance that the criticism of others will have a chilling effect on its right to free speech. Friedman’s claim that it would, suggest an incoherent conflation of criticism with censorship.

The fact of the matter is that the ANC did not merely criticise the FNB campaign. Some ANC and alliance leaders claimed that the FNB campaign was treasonous, that it represented an attack on the state and that it represented an attempt at regime change. As I pointed out before, these responses go far beyond a reasoned engagement with the FNB campaign and are based on the anti-democratic notion that any criticism of a political party who happens to have received the most votes at the last election is not only wrong, but also somehow treasonous. This criticism of FNB stems from an assumption that the governing party has a divine right to rule and this kind of criticism poses a threat to our democracy. Pointing this out does not infringe on the rights of anyone — no matter what Friedman might think.

Moreover, given the fact that the ANC is the party of government and given the conflation of party and state, the ANC speaks from a position of enormous political and economic power and influence. When it uses this power not to rebut unfair criticism aimed at it, but to try and intimidate its critics into silence by branding them national traitors, it is surely important to point this out and to challenge this intolerant and anti-democratic behaviour. When people do so, they are not silencing the ANC and can therefore not be said to robbing the ANC of its right to free expression.