As the proles were clutching at their collective throats in light of a possible 0.5% VAT hike and Potus 2.0’s no-aid salvos at SA, a quartet of ex office-bearers were refusing to vacate their heavily subsidized state housing despite having long been kicked off the carousel of power. According to the GroundUp report, ‘the department responsible for Cape Town’s parliamentary villages has asked the State Attorney to institute legal action to evict former Members of Parliament (MPs) who are refusing to move out of their heavily subsidised accommodation, despite them no longer being in Parliament.’
The three former MKP and one ANC MP who were, as those of their social standing often are, elaborately pampered in their stints in office were not taking their fate lying down. To understand why these former leaders might eventually be forced to leave kicking and screaming it is fitting to touch on some of these mouthwatering perks that come with having a seat at the table.
According to BizNews these include ‘a fully furnished house in Cape Town, free electricity and water, dozens of free flights, and reimbursements for fuel and mobile contracts.’ They also get reimbursed ‘for their expenses on laptop, tablet, or smartphone contracts, subject to limits.’ Then there are the three Parliamentary villages in Cape Town where the MPs who draw a minimum annual R1.27million, only pay a (wish I was making this up) R250 monthly rent, a fee which comes with ‘bus shuttle trips to and from Parliament, as well as free electricity, water, gardening services, and 24/7 security.’
This ought to be the part that had residents of Diepsloot, Soweto, calling for an increase in taxes for high-income earners than the proposed 0.5% VAT increase, according to a Daily Maverick report. But folks, that’s not where the blue cheese croissants run out for the domestic Marie Antoinettes. There are the 88 free single-trip flight tickets, 12 for the kids between two and eighteen, R4.84 fuel reimbursement per kilometer for the spouse or companions and free transport from the Parliamentary housing to schools, amongst others.
Although these may seem crass in a country that is dubbed ‘the most unequal society in the world,’ in and of themselves, they would not grate as much if there was general confidence in leadership’s abilities. Society might even acquiesce rather than throw fits whenever a salary increase is thrown in that direction. Give the devil his due and all that. However, a cursory glance into the matter suggests not only rampant incompetence but an institutional inability to hold the non-performers to account so much so that ineptitude is often rewarded with promotion.
In it’s latest Parliamentary Oversight Report (covering the years 2019 – 2024) the Organisation Undoing Tax Abuse (OUTA), found – for the sixth year in a row – that Parliament’s own oversight performance to be ‘lamentable’ and ‘inadequate.’ Said the report: ‘This is what underlies our finding that almost all of the committees we assessed are lamentable, and thus our finding that Parliament, overall, is lamentable, as it has no real method of holding inept or dysfunctional ministers to account and thus fails to do so.’
The document goes on to list the usual suspects: corruption, mismanagement, and ‘failure to act on the recommendations of the State Capture Commission.’ To this day, the main suspects of Chief Justice Raymond Zondo’s nearly R1bn probe have never seen the inside of a dock, let alone a letter of dismissal. The report further laments appaling service delivery and environmental issues, unemployment as well as ‘inadequate training for MPs.’ Where under majority rule, the ANC could simply use its numbers to shoot down any attempts at implementing real oversight, what excuse might there be for the multi-party GNU to ensure that the deadwood and incompetent get what’s coming to them? Outside of a few smaller parties, there has been little said on the once very contentious issue of a bloated Cabinet that is bleeding the taxpayer dry.
And, with the 71 decrease of seats for the ANC in the National Assembly after the last election, one must wonder what is usually done with the excess baggage – the bulk of whom are no doubt highly connected cadres in the proverbial good standing? We know that those who don’t ‘make the cut after the elections and have to move back to other locations also get financial support to help fund their relocations.’ Sounds reasonable enough but then again the article is also silent as to the exact amounts of this cryptic ‘financial support.’ As one who sometimes comes across political platitudes, there is one that comes to mind: something to do about there being no dustbin into which to discard a comrade.
So where might they go? Back to wilt away in the kasi, emerging years later, broke and pleading for alms on social media, in the process embarrassing the mother organisation? Or might they be placed on one of those indefinite paid suspension schemes that have seen high-ranking officials become bona fide millionaires without so much as sending a ‘thank you’ e-mail? Or they could disappear into the low-hanging trough of ‘ghost employee.’
Why not? In 2022 BusinessTech reported that then Minister of Transport Fikile Mbalula told a written Parliamentary Q&A that ‘an investigation into suspected ‘ghost workers’ on the Prasa payroll flagged 2,143 employees as suspicious – including 1,480 who could not be physically verified.’ Apparently the embattled SOE had been paying monthly salaries to these unverified employees for some time. Even more alarming is that these phantoms are to be found throughout the civil service. Unfortunately, though, they, just as those whose tainted names are writ large all over Zondo’s incriminating report are seldom ever caught.
As these and similar shocking stories flood the newsfeeds, the real people’s struggles often get lost in the labyrinth of editorial priority. Nonetheless, since the budget was delivered last month, the disgruntlement has been too loud to ignore. Interviews in communities like Diepsloot paint a picture of struggling consumers who agonise over what an increase, no matter how small, will affect their already strangled budgets. It’s no skin off the teeth of the powers that be, but on the ground this means real bread and butter decisions. Meat or electricity? Eggs or paraffin? Believe it or not, in this context even a loaf of bread is becoming something of a luxury, often enjoyed only on payday.
So, as our former leaders dig in their heels refusing to budge from the state’s dirt-cheap abodes, one finds oneself wishing that there was a semblance of true justice and actual repercussions for people of all stations in this country. The sort of justice that tragically plays itself out whenever illegal squatters, desperate, with nowhere to go, have to face the music. The red ants rolling in, armed with truncheons and steel-nosed boots. Perhaps some teargas, barb wire, manhandling here and a clenched fist breaking something there, just to make sure the message gets home. All wishful thinking, though, because as poor households brace themselves for a cold, harsh winter, they may likely find yet another burden to the hardscrabble: an unwanted VAT hike that need not ever happen in the face of a shrunken Cabinet with no invisible employees in the public service. For now, though, as they in Game of Thrones: ‘winter is coming.’