Constitutional Hill

A 75% majority needed to amend powers of Constitutional Court?

Feb 17th, 2012
by Pierre De Vos.
23 comments

The statement by President Jacob Zuma about the need to “review” the powers of the Constitutional Court has elicited much comment. The Black Lawyers Association (BLA) has issued a welcome statement in which it argued – as I did earlier this week – that an amendment of the powers of the Constitutional Court would mean that we would be abolishing the current constitutional democracy “and remarry the parliamentary sovereignty”. On reflection, I suspect that I was wrong and that the powers of the Constitutional Court can be amended in such a way that we would not return to a system of parliamentary sovereignty, but which would return us to a system in which the supremacy of the Constitution as well as the Rule of Law is not upheld.

Let me explain.

The BLA correctly points out that such an amendment would be unlikely to hold water as it might require a 75% majority of members in the National Assembly to vote for it. The ANC at the moment has 65.9% of the seats in the National Assembly (3 seats short of a two-thirds majority)and the DA, Cope and the IFP (who would presumably all be opposed to such an amendment) holds 28.5% of the seats in the National Assembly. This means that the ANC will not be able to garner the necessary 75% majority to validly change this aspect of the Constitution.

This argument might, at first, seem strange as the powers of the Constitutional Court are contained in chapter 8 of the Constitution and the provisions in this chapter can be amended by a two thirds majority of members of the National Assembly (and six of the nine delegations in the National Council of Provinces). Section 165(5) states that “an order or decision issued by a court binds all persons to whom and organs of state to which it applies”, based on the assumption that an order or decision is made by the majority of judges sitting in a case.

Section 167 of the Constitution sets out the powers of the Constitutional Court, confirming that the Constitutional Court is the highest court in all constitutional matters; that it may decide only constitutional matters, and issues connected with decisions on constitutional matters; and that it makes the final decision whether a matter is a constitutional matter or whether an issue is connected with a decision on a constitutional matter.

Section 167(4) states that only the Constitutional Court may decide disputes between organs of state in the national or provincial sphere concerning the constitutional status, powers or functions of any of those organs of state; and may decide on the constitutionality of any parliamentary or provincial Bill referred to it by the President or Premier or Acts referred to it by 30% of the members of a legislature. That Court also has exclusive jurisdiction to decide on the constitutionality of any amendment to the Constitution; and to decide that Parliament or the President has failed to fulfil a constitutional obligation.

The pivotal section is probably section 167(5) of the Constitution, which states that:

The Constitutional Court makes the final decision whether an Act of Parliament, a provincial Act or conduct of the President is constitutional, and must confirm any order of invalidity made by the Supreme Court of Appeal, a High Court, or a court of similar status, before that order has any force.

How could these powers be amended? One possibility is that the Constitution could be amended to remove the power of the Constitutional Court (as well as other courts) to review acts of the President and/or other members of the executive. This would mean that the Constitutional Court would retain the power to declare invalid acts of various legislatures but that it would not be allowed to inquire into whether the President or perhaps other members of the executive have infringed the rights of anyone or have acted in breach of their constitutional or other legal duties.

This would not make Parliament supreme again, but two other very serious and deeply problematic consequences would inevitably flow from such a possible amendment.

First, the executive would become more powerful and we would move in the direction of creating an imperial Presidency (much like the imperial Presidency created by the 1983 tricameral Parliament under PW Botha). This is because, in controversial matters, the majority party in Parliament will try to circumvent judicial review by the courts by delegating more and more power to the President and/or his executive. Although our courts have argued that unlimited delegation of powers by the legislature to the executive is not allowed as it infringes on the separation of powers (hence the declaration of invalidity of the provision on which the President relied to try and extend the term of office of the former Chief Justice), the Parliament would obviously delegate as much power as it legally can to the President.

As the President is not democratically elected (but elected by the National Assembly, which in effect means at the moment that it is elected by just over 4000 delegates at the ANC elective conference), such a move has the possibility of eroding the democratic nature of our system of government.

Second, the President would no longer be subject to the Constitution and the law and would, in effect, be above the law. If the President failed to exercise his powers as dictated by the Constitution or other legislation (as he was found to have done in the Menzi Simelane case) or if he acts in a way that infringes on the rights of others, his actions would not be reviewable and the President would then potentially become a law unto himself.

This would result in an indirect amendment of section 1(c) of the Constitution, which states that our democracy is founded, inter alia, on the value of the supremacy of the constitution and the rule of law. There will no longer be a supreme Constitution and neither will there be full respect for the Rule of Law. Even if section 1(c) of the Constitution is not itself amended, such an amendment to section 167 would result in an effective scrapping of section 1(c). This would, I contend, require a 75% majority in the National Assembly.

If Parliament amended section 167 in this way but relied on a two-thirds majority in the National Assembly in terms of the section 74(3) process, the Constitutional Court would be able to review this amendment and would be able to declare it invalid on the ground that the amendment should have been passed in terms of the section 74(1) process which requires a 75% majority in the National Assembly.

What the Constitutional Court would almost certainly not be able to do is to review an amendment on grounds not related to the question of whether the correct procedure (as prescribed in section 74) was used when the Constitution was amended. Some commentators seem to have suggested that the Constitutional Court can declare invalid a constitutional amendment because it clashes with other provisions in the Constitution. This is not correct. In the floor crossing case the Constitutional Court made this clear when it found that:

Amendments passed in accordance with the requirements of section 74 of the Constitution become part of the Constitution. Once part of the Constitution, they cannot be challenged on the grounds of inconsistency with other provisions of the Constitution. The Constitution, as amended, must be read as a whole and its provisions must be interpreted in harmony with one another. It follows that there is little if any scope for challenging the constitutionality of amendments that are passed in accordance with the prescribed procedures and majorities.

The curious part of this statement is that the part where the Court stated that there is “little if any” scope for such a review. This phrase probably gestures at the obiter dictum (not binding opinion) by Justice Mahomed in the Premier, KwaZulu-Natal v President of the RSA judgment, in which he raised the possibility that amending the basic structure of the Constitution would itself not be permissible. In that case he stated that:

It may perhaps be that a purported amendment to the Constitution, following the formal procedures prescribed by the Constitution, but radically and fundamentally restructuring and re-organizing the fundamental premises of the Constitution, might not qualify as an “amendment†at all.

But this statement was made with reference to the Interim Constitution, which did not contain a super-entrenched founding values section similar to section 1 in the 1996 Constitution. I would think that our Constitutional Court would argue that an amendment of the provisions of section 167 which would remove some powers from the Constitutional Court would amend the “basic structure” of the Constitution, but that the essence of this “basic structure” is contained in section 1 of the Constitution and therefore requires a 75% majority in the National Assembly.

The consequence of this is that the ANC dominated Parliament will not be able validly to amend the Constitution to radically reduce the powers of the Constitutional Court. If it did, the Constitutional Court will declare that amendment invalid. What would happen after that is, of course, anyone’s guess.

Posted in: ANC, Constitutional Court, democracy, Jacob Zuma, Judiciary, Rule of Law.

Why the Traditional Courts Bill might be unconstitutional

Feb 15th, 2012
by Pierre De Vos.
17 comments

The Law, Race and Gender unit at UCT has produced the following video explaining why aspects of the Traditional Courts Bill tabled last month may be unconstitutional.

[ http://www.youtube.com/embed/DbmcT0K85JE?fs=1

Posted in: Criticism of Courts, Dignity, discrimination, Governance.

An unambiguous attack on constitutional democracy

Feb 14th, 2012
by Pierre De Vos.
115 comments

In 1934 the Appeal Court in the case of Sachs v Minister of Justice; Diamond v Minister of Justice had to consider the validity of a banning order issued by the Minister of Police. Banning orders, which prohibited a person from being present in specific areas because the Minister was satisfied that the person “is in the area promoting feelings of hostility between the European inhabitants of the Union on the one hand and any other section of the inhabitants of the Union on the other handâ€, was a powerful tool used by the authorities to restrict the political activities of those opposed to the policies of the government. In rejecting the challenge to the banning order, Stratford ACJ made the following statement about the nature of parliamentary sovereignty in South Africa:

[O]nce we are satisfied on a construction of the Act, that it gives to the Minister an unfettered discretion, it is no function of a Court of law to curtail its scope in the least degree, indeed it would be quite improper to do so. The above observation is, perhaps, so trite that it needs no statement, yet in cases before the Courts when the exercise of a statutory discretion is challenged, arguments are sometimes advanced which do seem to me to ignore the plain principle that Parliament may make any encroachment it chooses upon the life, liberty or property of any individual subject to its away, and that it is the function of courts of law to enforce its will.

Regardless of the spin later put on his words by presidential spin doctors, President Jacob Zuma’s latest comments about the judiciary reflect a yearning to return to this system of Parliamentary sovereignty. President Zuma said that there was a need to review the powers of the Constitutional Court because judges were not “special people”, but fallible human beings. As proof of this statement he pointed to the phenomenon of split judgments, saying:

How could you say that (the) judgment is absolutely correct when the judges themselves have different views about it? We don’t want to review the Constitutional Court, we want to review its powers. It is after experience that some of the decisions are not decisions that every other judge in the Constitutional Court agrees with… There are dissenting judgments. You will find that the dissenting one has more logic than the one that enjoyed the majority. What do you do in that case? That’s what has made the issue to become (one) of concern.

Judges were “influenced by what’s happening and who are influenced by you guys (the media)â€, Zuma said. If the decisions of Parliament and the executive could be challenged, there was nothing wrong in questioning the decisions of the judiciary, he said.

Of course, President Zuma is correct that judges are fallible human beings and that different judges might view a legal question differently. (What he did not mention is that judges are usually slightly more intelligent than the average politician and usually far more honest. After all, as far as I know, no South African judge has ever faced bribery and corruption charges in court; no person has ever been convicted in South Africa for bribing a judge; and no judge has had to resign because he went to visit his drug dealing girlfriend in a Swiss jail on state expense.)

Reasonable lawyers often differ about what a legal provision or a judicial precedent might mean in a particular case. That is why lawyers take cases to court: most of them believe that they have some chance of winning their case or of getting a better deal for their client (even if they do lose the case). If they thought they had no chance of swaying the judge this way or that, they would not bother to submit papers and present oral arguments to court. They only believe that because reasonable people could differ on the correct interpretation and application of the facts or the law.

There is therefore nothing strange about different judges in the same court sometimes disagreeing with one another and writing a majority and minority opinion. Unlike some politicians, South African judges usually do not disagree with one another because they took bribes from different parties before the court or because they have another direct interest in the outcome of a matter. They do so because there is a genuine intellectual disagreement between the judges about the meaning of a legal rule or principle.

When this happens judges write different judgments in which they motivate why they took the view they took and these judgments can then be analysed and critiqued, thus keeping judges accountable for their decisions (unlike politicians, who are not held accountable for each decision they take, but are only held indirectly accountable by their party who might or might not gain more votes in the next election).

There is therefore also nothing wrong with criticising judicial decisions. Even sharp criticism of judicial decisions that engages with the legal arguments developed in a judgement must be welcomed, as such criticism and analysis ensure some form of accountability for the judiciary. (Of course, if a politician whose friend was convicted of bribing that politician argues that a specific majority decision handed down by the Constitutional Court is wrong, one might well take that opinion of the politician with more than a pinch of salt.)

But President Zuma’s claim that the powers of the Constitutional Court need to be reviewed because those judges sometimes hand down split decisions makes no sense whatsoever. Either the Constitutional Court has the power to interpret and enforce the provisions of the Constitution, or this power is taken away via a constitutional amendment. It is not possible to tinker with the powers of judicial review currently enjoyed by the Constitutional Court. Where a majority of judges, whose independence is guaranteed, are not allowed to review and set aside acts of Parliament or the executive, one does not have a constitutional democracy under the Rule of Law but a different system in which people enjoy rights by the grace of the majority party.

One can, of course, abolish the powers of the Constitutional Court to declare invalid legislation or acts of the executive, returning to a system of Parliamentary sovereignty which was in place during the apartheid years when the Sachs case was decided. This would mean that we would no longer live in a country in which the human rights of everyone is protected by the courts and President Zuma would then be free to act in accordance with even the most draconian legislation which would not be revieweable by the courts.

If one favoured a system, say, in which individuals could legally be arrested and detained without bringing them to trail, in which political opponents could be silenced with legally imposed “banning orders”, in which women or any unfavoured group (say, somebody who speaks Xhosa instead of Zulu or is disabled instead of able bodied) could legally be discriminated against by the government, then this system would obviously look particularly attractive.

But that is not the system on which the ANC had agreed years before the current Constitution was drafted. Recall that in 1989 in the Harare Declaration the ANC committed itself to the kind of system of judicial review that is currently in place in South Africa, affirming that in a democratic South Africa:

All shall enjoy universally recognised human rights, freedoms and civil liberties, protected under an entrenched Bill of Rights. South Africa shall have a new legal system which shall guarantee equality of all before the law. South Africa shall have an independent and non-racial judiciary.

There is no context which can explain away the words of the President about a need to review the powers of the Constitutional Court. Poor Mac Maharaj issued a statement in which he pretended that the President’s words could be interpreted to mean something completely different from what he actually said. But the statement about a need for a review of the Constitutional Court’s powers leaves no room for ambiguity or a different interpretation based on context. There is therefore no way to interpret President Zuma’s statement other than as an attack on the principles underlying a constitutional democracy.

In fact Maharaj’s statement added fuel to the fire by suggesting that the executive should be able to influence the judges. He stated that President Zuma’s statement that the powers of the Constitutional Court should be reviewed:

must therefore not be viewed as an attempt by government to undermine the independence of the judiciary and the rule of law which are entrenched in our Constitution. This is an exercise that falls within the mandate of the Executive of formulating and reviewing policies of government which seek to advance the transformative character of our Constitution. It is anticipated that the outcome of this exercise will not only assist in developing value-based solutions to address the legacy of the past but will contribute in shaping our evolving constitutional jurisprudence.

This statement does not only fail to explain away the shocking attack of the President on our constitutional democracy, but signals that the Presidency has a rather strange understanding of the principle of the separation of powers and the independence of the judiciary. How the study by the executive of the judgments of the Constitutional Court could “contribute to the shaping of our evolving constitutional jurisprudence” without an attempt by the executive to intimidate the judges is unclear.

Judges have a constitutional duty to be impartial and independent. They cannot be swayed or influenced by the views of the executive who might wish to shape their jurisprudence. So if the executive aims to “shape” the decisions of the Constitutional Court, then it is aiming to interfere with the independence of the judiciary and hence to undermine one of the pillars of the constitutional democracy. This means that even the spin by the Presidency trying to excuse the inexcusable, displays a shocking lack of respect for our system of separation of powers and checks and balances.

One cannot interfere – legally, at least – with the supremacy of the Constitution and the independence of the judiciary without changing various provisions of the Constitution, including the founding values in section 1 which states, inter alia, that the “Republic of South Africa is one, sovereign, democratic state founded on the values of … supremacy of the constitution and the rule of law.” Such an amendment would require a 75% majority in the National Assembly, something the ANC would not be able to muster – even if they managed to bribe a few small parties to support its anti-constitutional scheme.

This suggests that (in the absence of a coup d’état)  President Zuma’s wish that the powers of the Constitutional Court should be reviewed and amended is never going to fly. He will just have to take his chances in the courts (as he has done on many previous occasions, often with great success) when various cases that could affect his corruption and bribery prosecution comes before the judiciary. Meanwhile, he should really think before he talks.

Posted in: ANC, corruption, Criticism of Courts, Jacob Zuma, Judiciary.

Should we be conferring titles on advocates?

Feb 13th, 2012
by Pierre De Vos.
51 comments

It is often the case that the provisions of a Constitution are drafted in response to a particular set of political, social and economic circumstances. Thus, some post-independence Constitutions contain provisions that specifically respond to the colonial experience and are aimed at eradication objectionable colonial-era practices or the effects of such practices.

For example, in response to the British class system imposed on India during colonial rule and as a symbol of the Constitution’s egalitarian ambitions, section 19 of the Indian Constitution (in its Bill of Rights) prohibits the Indian state from conferring titles – except for military and academic titles – on any citizen. It also prohibits Indian citizens from accepting any title from any foreign State.

South Africa’s Constitution did not go as far as the Indian Constitution and, in this small respect, is less egalitarian than its Indian cousin. Although our Constitutional Court has found (in the Hugo case) that the Constitution had abolished the notion of Royal prerogative powers (which was inherited from the British constitutional system and used to be exercised by the State President), our Constitution does contain a set of codified powers entrusted to the President by section 84(2) of the Constitution. Many of these powers are similar to the prerogative powers previously held by the State President before 1994. However, in our constitutional dispensation there are no powers derived from the Royal prerogative which are conferred upon the President other than those enumerated in section 84(2) of the Constitution.

Section 84(2)(k) of the Constitution states the President is empowered to “confer honours” on those deserving of it. Our Constitution therefore allows the President to confer honours (like the Order of the Baobab or the Order of Luthuli) on individuals who have rendered exceptional services beyond the ordinary call of duty in a particular field or to the nation as a whole.

Last week, in the case of Mansingh v President of the RSA, the North Gauteng High Court in a judgment authored by Phatudi J, had to decide whether this section authorised the President to confer the title of Senior Counsel (also popularly known as SC or Silk) on practicing advocates. This power to confer the status of silk on advocates used to form part of the Royal prerogative powers of the head of state. Members of the Bar must apply for this “honour” and their silk status is reliant on the Bar Council approving their application. Once they become silks they can charge higher fees for their services and, so it is argued, they also obtain a higher status among their colleagues.

The crisp legal question that had to be answered in this case was whether the provision in section 84(2)(k) of the Constitution empowered the President to confer silk status on “deserving” advocates.

But behind this legal question lies a policy question with profound political implications, namely whether it is advisable to retain a system of honours for advocates that might exclude many women and black South Africans from achieving the same professional status as the most exulted members of the Bar.

Bear in mind that members of the advocates’ profession themselves, in effect, select those advocates to be “honoured” with the status of Senior Counsel in accordance with rather vague criteria. Does this system in essence play a gatekeeper role? How many women and how many black South Africans have been “selected” to be “honoured” in this manner and which criteria were used to select them? Is it still tenable in a constitutional democracy to perpetuate a system of honours which harks back to our colonial past? Should we not rather follow the Indian example and abolish all these kinds of honours bestowed on a select group of people to bring our practices in line with the egalitarian spirit of the Constitution?

The judgment did not engage with these policy questions but focused on the meaning of section 84(2)(k). The applicant argued that the phrase “conferring honours” under section 84(2)(k) of the Constitution could not include the conferring of silk status on some advocates because it in effect resulted in the bestowing of a privilege on some people who did not earn it. Secondly, she argued for a narrow interpretation of honours to include honours for which one cannot apply but is bestowed on one by the President entirely based on a discretion exercised by him.

The court looked at the application procedure used by the Johannesburg Bar Council and noted that candidates are invited to apply for silk. The applicant must discuss his/her proposed application informally with the Leader of the Bar. The Bar council considers the application based on the candidate’s practice which should consist of good quality work. If the application succeeds, the Chairperson of the Bar discusses the recommended application(s) with the Judge President. If the Judge President approves of the application(s). He forwards the recommendation to the Minister of Justice and to the President who then formalises the appointment as silk.

As Phatudi J remarked, this process looks very different from the process followed with the conferring of normal honours like the Order of Luthuli or the Order of the Baobab:

Given these facts Phatudi J agreed with the applicant that there was a difference between a conferral of honours such as the Order of the Baobab (for which one cannot apply) and the conferring of the status of silk. The Order of the Baobab, for instance, is awarded to South African citizens for services distinguished beyond the ordinary call of duty. It is an “honour” awarded for exceptional and distinguished contribution in community service. I am reluctant to accept that the framers of our autochthonous Constitution were comfortable that the President is empowered in terms of section 84(2) (k) to confer the status of senior counsel on practising advocates.

Are the services and contributions made by practising advocates exceptional or beyond the ordinary call of duty that warrant an award of the status of senior counsel? Can an award of the status of senior counsel be equated with, for instance, Order of Luthuli or Order of the Baobab, the latter being awarded to South African citizens with distinguished service that is way above or beyond the ordinary call of duty?

If one assumes that an advocate has acted above and beyond the ordinary call of duty because he or she has charged very high fees to clients and represented them well in court, then the President might be viewed as having the constitutional authority to confer this honour of silk on them. If, however, one believes that advocates have merely done what others have done, namely to make a living as well as they could while raking in the money, then the Constitution may well be viewed as not conferring this power on the President.

Given the fact that unlike the Indian Constitution, our Constitution does not prohibit a citizen from being awarded a special title, the President might well have had the power to confer silk status on advocates if this power had been granted to him in terms of other legislation. However, there is no legislation, including the Admission of Advocates Act 74 of 1964 (Advocates Act) that empowers the President to institute, constitute and award the status of senior counsel to practising advocates or any legal practitioner who has displayed “good quality work” to the legal profession. The term “Senior Counsel” is not even defined in the Advocates Act. The term only appears in section 8A that provides that ‘[t]he President may at the request of any person appointed as a Senior Counsel of the Republic while in the service of the State, withdraw such appointment, and thereupon such person shall revert to the status which he had as an advocate immediately prior to that appointment’.

The judgment will now have to be confirmed by the Constitutional Court before it has any legal effect as it deals with an act of the President. If that court confirms the judgment, legislation may well be passed to allow the President to continue to confer this status on advocates. Such legislation might well have to contain more detailed and precise criteria for the conferral of this status to subject this practice to the disciplining power of the constitution which is supposed to establish a culture of justification – also in the legal profession.

But ironically, if the Constitutional Court confirms this judgment and no legislation is passed to allow for the continued conferral of the status of silk on advocates, those advocates who were made silk before 1994 would retain their status while those who were made silk after 1994 would lose their status. This would mean that those who obtained status of silk before 1994 would probably become even more sought after and they would be able to charge even higher fees than they currently do. Whatever happens, this judgment represents the start of the conversation about the conferral of professional titles on lawyers – not the end of that conversation.

Posted in: Constitution, discrimination, Jacob Zuma, Rule of Law.

On accountability, transparency and the “bribing” of journalists

Feb 9th, 2012
by Pierre De Vos.
120 comments

It is a rather inconvenient fact (inconvenient for some people, at least) that the notion of an open, transparent and accountable government runs like a golden thread throughout our Constitution. Rejecting the secretive and often lawless bureaucratic managarialism of the apartheid era, in which citizens were more often than not treated as disembodied entities to be ordered around, controlled and sometimes dispensed with (and not as human beings with an inherent human dignity), the Constitution – also in this regard – demands a fundamental break with our apartheid past.

Thus section 1 of the South African Constitution states that the Republic of South Africa is founded on the values, inter alia, of “[u]niversal adult suffrage, a national common voters roll, regular elections and a multi-party system of democratic government, to ensure accountability, responsiveness and openness”.

These founding values are amplified in several sections of the Constitution to help create governance institutions that are truly open and transparent, that share information about their work, serve people, listen and respond to the concerns of voters, and do not shy away from scrutiny but invite it in order to improve the way in which they serve the public.

Thus section 55(2) of the Constitution states that the National Assembly must provide for mechanisms to ensure that all executive organs of state in the national sphere of government are accountable to it and to maintain oversight of the exercise of national executive authority, including the implementation of legislation; and any organ of state. Section 56 also states rather boldly that the National Assembly or any of its committees may summon any person (including any Minister or the President) to appear before it to give evidence on oath or affirmation, or to produce documents and may require any person or institution to report to it. When ministers claim that they have better things to do than account to Parliament or that information cannot be provided to Parliament for “national security” reasons, they are flouting the letter and the spirit of the Constitution.

Section 96(3) confirms this obligation to account by stating that ministers “are accountable individually to the President and to the National Assembly for the administration of their portfolios, and all members of the Cabinet are correspondingly accountable collectively for the performance of the functions of the national government and for its policies”. Section 195 of the Constitution extends these obligations to civil servants by stating that Public Administration must be accountable and that transparency must be fostered in the public service by providing the public with timely, accessible and accurate information.

To beef up this system of openness and accountability, section 32 of the Bill of Rights guarantees for everyone “the right of access to any information held by the state; and any information that is held by another person and that is required for the exercise or protection of any rights”.

It is against this background that one should evaluate the legal wrangling between Independent Newspapers and the ANC regarding the so called “brown envelope scandal” report prepared by the now Deputy Minister of Justice. Recall that the scandal centres around the alleged attempts by former Premier Embrahim Rasool (now safely “deployed†as South Africa’s ambassador to the USA), to bribe journalists in order to get their co-operation in smearing his political enemies inside the ANC and to provide positive news coverage for his ANC-led administration in the Western Cape.

This saga should really give some ammunition to those ANC and SACP leaders who complain that members of the media, civil society groups and other powerful role players are not required to adhere to the same standards of openness and transparency and are not subject to the same forms of accountability as members of the government is. Who guards the guardians, they ask. But curiously, this scandal has not been mentioned at all when these kinds of arguments have been put forward.

(Of course, in extreme cases, the argument is put forward that the constitutionally imposed rules should not be applied to politicians at all because others are not held to the same rules. Like school children caught smoking behind the bicycle shed they say the equivalent of: “But the teachers also smoke.” As such an argument defies logic, I will leave it aside for the moment.)

Nevertheless, this saga does raise serious questions about the ways in which politicians or other powerful and rich individuals or groups could pervert the democratic process by bribing journalists, columnists or other opinion-makers.

Last week judge Bennie Griesel released an internal ANC report (after having a so called “judicial peep at it in terms of section 80 of the Promotion of Access to Information Act (PAIA)) along with a short judgment giving reasons for this. It is very surprising, to say the least, that Griesel J released the report, despite the fact that the ANC might have wanted to appeal his judgment.

It is true that section 82 of PAIA states that the court hearing an application for access to information may grant any order that is just and equitable including orders confirming, amending or setting aside the decision which is the subject of the application. However, section 80(2) of PAIA states that when taking a “judicial peek” a judge may not disclose to any person “including the parties to the proceedings concerned” the contents of the document he or she had a “judicial peek” at.

As I understand these provisions of PAIA, what should have happened is that the learned judge should have ordered the ANC to hand over the report to Independent Newspapers and the ANC would then have had the opportunity to decide whether it wished to appeal the decision or whether it would hand over the report as ordered.

In my opinion the judge committed a serious blunder and the ANC had every reason to complain – on legal grounds – about the premature release of the report. The problem is that the blunder cannot be corrected as the report now forms part of the judgment and can be read by anyone.

However, two further questions arise from this saga. First, the “interim report” noted that the facts uncovered by the investigators raised serious questions about possible impropriety which had to be investigated further. The investigators could not determine the exact nature of the relationship between the Premier and his government on the one hand and the journalists and the company they were involved in on the other hand.

These questions were apparently never further investigated, despite the recommendations of the investigators that it should. The question is: why not? Given the concern expressed by some ANC leaders about the alleged unaccountability of journalists and about the corruption of journalists by money or political interests, it is curious that the party never bothered to find out whether its own Premier had bribed at least two journalists.

Surely, if the ANC was truly concerned about the lack of openness and accountability of the media and if it was prepared to act on its principles, it would have completed this investigation and would have taken firm action against Rasool if it had found that he had indeed bribed some journalists and would have handed the matter over to the police for possible criminal prosecution of the journalists (and of Rasool).

Does this mean the purported concerns expressed about the unaccountability of journalists and civil society leaders only relate to a concern about journalists not reporting favourably on the ANC or concern about civil society leaders who expose ANC government corruption or maladministration? And why was the ANC so desperate to keep this report secret? Surely, if the party was really respectful of the rights of citizens to have access to information, it should have volunteered to make this report public? Somehow it never did and would, so it now says, have even spent even more money to appeal the Griesel judgment had the judge not blundered and made the report public. Why all this secrecy if the party had nothing to hide?

The second, far more complex, question is whether journalists are indeed sufficiently transparent and accountable. How do we know that journalists report honestly and fairly about issues and how do we know that they have not been corrupted by both public and private money and power? When a journalist or columnist say nice things about a political leader, is this because the journalist or columnist was given some shares in a company or given a bribe? If a reporter claims that a new model car is the best in its class, is this perhaps because the vehicle manufacturer has showered the journalists with freebies?

Clearly, journalists and columnists are not in exactly the same position as politicians. Politicians are elected, journalists and columnists are not. Politicians make decisions about how our money should be taxed and how the taxes should be spent, journalists and columnists do not. Politicians can ride the gravy train, journalists cannot. Some politicians have enormous power: they can give instructions to the police to shoot and kill people, they can order the invasion of Lesotho (and how did that one work out for you honourable Mangosutho Buthelezi?), they can legally instruct spies to spread lies about perceived enemies of the state. Journalists and columnists can do none of these things.

The argument that journalists, columnists and civil society leaders should therefore be held accountable in exactly the same way as politicians can therefore not be sustained. Claiming that they exercise more power than the President who can make life and death decisions about our future is, quite frankly, absurd and also obviously self-serving.

Yet, as the brown envelope saga demonstrates, journalists, columnists and civil society leaders do potentially wield considerable power, their words and deeds influence public perceptions and can influence how the electorate vote. And we know that they can all be corrupted. Should we really trust that the “market” will hold them accountable (yeah right!) or that internal ethics rules will ensure that they are never corrupted by those in the public and private sector with the most money and or power?

And if we do not trust them to regulate themselves, how do we ensure some transparency and accountability on the part of journalists, columnists and civil society leaders, without endorsing a system of political control by the very politicians from whom we all need serious protection?

Posted in: ANC, democracy, Governance, media.

Spinning out of control

Feb 7th, 2012
by Pierre De Vos.
123 comments

When Ms Liz Hleza went to her spinning class at the Morningside Virgin Active in Sandton on 31 December last year, she reportedly got far more than she bargained for. Instead of an enjoyable spinning class, Hleza reportedly had to face the racial abuse of a fellow spinner because she did not wish to behave as the fellow spinner thought his white skin gave him the right to expect from her.

Hleza says that she was enjoying the music and kept shouting “yebo†as the instructor put them through the gruelling exercise. However, a man in front of her (who has as yet not been named, but is reportedly a lawyer), was so upset that Hleza was enjoying herself differently than he would have, that he got off his bicycle and confronted her.

I was so scared and thought he was going to hit me, he was very angry. He said I should keep quiet and kept saying this bloody k*****, you k*****. He was pointing fingers at me. He said ‘bloody c**** and that I was a selfish bitch. He also told me that I was born walking on four legs with a tail, and I should go back to the bushes where I belong and make that noise there.

Hleza says that she did not return the insult. After the class, Hleza went to the manager on duty to complain and when that manager called the two men to her office, they refused to go. The man, she said, swore at her again. “He said ‘You bloody k*****, you are a cockroach and next time I come to the gym I will bring Doom to spray you with’.†Virgin Active did not seem to take the incident particularly seriously (perhaps not wanting to upset a rich white client, or perhaps blaming the victim for not behaving like an upper middle class white person) and only reopened the case when it was reported on in the newspapers this week.

Predictably, some people dismissed the story, either by questioning the accuracy of Liz Hleza’s version of events (as if a different version of events would justify the use of any of the racist words uttered) or by arguing in one way or another that she was to blame for this racist attack on her because she behaved “inappropriately”. What has not been addressed is the question of whether Liz Hleza would be successful if she took the reported abuser (or Virgin Active, for that matter) to the Equality Court.

The Promotion of Equality and Prevention of Unfair Discrimination Act (PEPUDA) was adopted in 2000 to give effect to the constitutional prohibition against unfair discrimination and to protect citizen from abuse and discrimination based on the race, sex, sexual orientation, religion, disability and a variety of other characteristics of the victim. PEPUDA also aims to make it easier for a private individual to take the state or another private individual or institution to court to challenge unfair discrimination or abuse.

It is important to note that PEPUDA does not outlaw racism per se and it does not turn every racist in South Africa into an instant criminal. (If it did, our courts would have been flooded with PEPUDA cases.) This means that if the lawyer who reportedly abused Hleza because of her race, made racists remarks during a dinner party, PEPUDA would almost certainly not have applied to him. In any case, even when a person contravenes PEPUDA, he or she does not commit a crime and does not get a criminal record if found guilty of racial discrimination or hate speech in terms of the Act. The court will make a finding that a person has acted unlawfully and will impose a relevant punishment (ordering the payment of a fine, the issuing of an apology or another appropriate corrective action).

The Act does prohibit unfair discrimination, harassment and hate speech.

It is clear that the lawyer could be found guilty of hate speech in terms of section 10 of PEPUDA if he had used even one of the racist words ascribed to him. This is because hate speech is defined rather broadly as including any verbal racial attack that could reasonably be construed to demonstrate a clear intention to be hurtful to another person. When a person calls someone else the k-word and hurls other racial abuse at the victim, it would be rather difficult to argue that this would not reasonably be capable of being construed as having the intention to be hurtful to the victim. The lawyer would therefore almost certainly be guilty of hate speech.

As I have written before (in the context of the Julius Malema’s hate speech case), I believe that this section is unconstitutional as it draws the net far too wide and infringes on the right of freedom of expression in a manner that is not justifiable by the limitation clause. Nevertheless, until the Constitutional Court confirms (or rejects) this view, one would be able to rely on section 10 of PEPUDA to bring a case against the lawyer.

Section 11 of PEPUDA also prohibits any person from subjecting another person to harassment. Harassment is defined as unwanted conduct “which is persistent or serious and demeans, humiliates or creates a hostile or intimidating environment or is calculated to induce submission by actual or threatened adverse consequences and which is related to sex, gender or sexual orientation” or any other ground such as race.

The reported conduct of the lawyer may arguably be viewed by a court as sufficiently serious to amount to harassment based on race as it would have demeaned and humiliated the victim based on her race. Whether a court will find this, is not clear.

The definition of harassment can be given either a narrow interpretation (which would exclude a once-off racial attack like the one under discussion), or it could be given a wider interpretation that would include once-off verbal attacks of a racist nature – as long as the verbal attack is of a serious nature. If the latter interpretation is preferred, it would mean that as long as the abuse was serious and as long as it could be shown to have humiliated or demeaned the other person (based on race, sex, gender, sexual orientation or another ground listed in the Constitution), the court would find that harassment occurred.

PEPUDA also prohibits unfair discrimination, stating that “discrimination†means any act or omission, including a policy, law, rule, practice, condition or situation which directly or indirectly imposes burdens, obligations or disadvantage on; or withholds benefits, opportunities or advantages from, any person on one or more of the prohibited grounds.

If one has demonstrated that one has been treated differently from somebody else based on one’s race, say, it will then be assumed by the court that one has been unfairly discriminated against. The other party can then try to rebut this presumption of unfair discrimination. The definition of discrimination provided in PEPUDA suggests that “mere” words would seldom amount to unfair discrimination, because one would have to show that the words had the result of imposing a burden or withholding an advantage from someone based on his or her race.

However, as PEPUDA is not a particularly well drafted Act, there seems to be a contradiction between this definition of discrimination (contained in section 1 of the Act) and the provisions of section 7 of PEPUDA which purports to provide illustrations of the kinds of actions that would constitute discrimination. Section 7 states that:

no person may unfairly discriminate against any person on the ground of race, including: (a) the dissemination of any propaganda or idea, which propounds the racial superiority or inferiority of any person, including incitement to, or participation in, any form of racial violence; (b) the engagement in any activity which is intended to promote, or has the effect of promoting, exclusivity, based on race; (c) the exclusion of persons of a particular race group under any rule or practice that appears to be legitimate but which is actually aimed at maintaining exclusive control by a particular race group; (d) the provision or continued provision of inferior services to any racial group, compared to those of another racial group; (e) the denial of access to opportunities, including access to services or contractual opportunities for rendering services for consideration, or failing to take steps to reasonably accommodate the needs of such persons.

While the reported abuse of Hleza by the lawyer would probably not fall within the general definition of unfair discrimination in PEPUDA, his reported actions may well fall within the ambit of the examples provided for in section 7 of the Act. This is because he expressed views that promote the idea of the racial inferiority of black people. Given the fact that hate speech is already outlawed by section 10 of PEPUDA, I am not sure whether a court will interpret the unfair discrimination provisions in such a broad manner to include racial abuse. If I am correct, this would mean that the lawyer may well not be found guilty of unfair discrimination if brought before an Equality Court.

However, regardless of whether one follows the stricter definition of discrimination provided in the definitions section of PEPUDA or whether one follows the provisions of section 7, the Virgin Active gym might well be found guilty of unfair discrimination.

If Virgin Active did not protect Ms Hleza from the reported racial invective of the lawyer and if it had failed to deal decisively with the matter (by, for example, suspending the lawyers membership and banning him from their gyms), this omission on the part of Virgin Active may well be viewed as constituting unfair discrimination as its inaction would have assisted in creating an environment in which Ms Hleza would have felt that she could not attend the gym or at least not the spinning class at times when she felt like it.

Such an interpretation would make sense as it would place a special burden on businesses to protect individuals against the racism of other clients. Such a burden would attack the problem of racial discrimination in a more systematic and comprehensive manner. Instead of “merely†punishing the individual racist, the Act (interpreted as proposed) would place a positive duty on powerful corporations and businesses to deal with racism amongst its clients. As businesses have far more power to deal with such matters effectively than individual clients who suffer racist abuse, this interpretation might well make the provisions of the Act more effective.

Meanwhile we await word from Virgin Active to see whether the publicity might have shamed it into taking this reported incident as seriously as it deserves. If it does not, Hleza might well want to take both the abuser and Virgin Active to the Equality Court.

Posted in: Dignity, discrimination, Race.

Malema verdict might not be something to celebrate

Feb 6th, 2012
by Pierre De Vos.
68 comments

It is understandable that members of the chattering classes as well as other members of the public (including many rank and file members of the ANC yearning for a, perhaps mythical, simpler time when ANC Youth League members behaved properly and listened to their elders) on Saturday applauded the verdict of the ANC National Disciplinary Committee of Appeal (NDCA) which confirmed the guilty verdict against Julius Malema.

It could not have hurt that the verdict was delivered by a confident and in charge Cyril Ramaphosa, who reminded us again why so many of us have regretted the fact that he lost out to Thabo Mbeki when Mandela’s ANC had to appoint a Deputy President and why some of us still wistfully wonder what might have been if he had become our President instead of either Thabo Mbeki or Jacob Zuma.

Although some newspaper editors might miss Malema (given the fact that he has the ability to make news and sell newspapers), most of us might feel slightly relieved that this hypocritical demagogue has been dealt with so effectively and seemingly so decisively by the ANC senior leadership.

Yet, there is something about the way in which Jacob Zuma and Gwede Mantashe managed to clip Malema’s wings that sits uneasy with me. If they could do it to him, I wonder, could they do it to anyone else – including every single one of us who are members of the chattering classes and sometimes mock or criticise our dancing and singing President and every single ANC member who fails to toe the party line or who speaks out against the abuse of power or incompetence by some members of the leadership?

Is there not just a whiff of Stalinism about the way in which Zuma and Matashe got rid of a political enemy? Can we expect the pictures to be airbrushed next so that Malema will disappear completely from official ANC history?

Recall that Malema was convicted on three charges, two of them having been confirmed by the NDCA. First, he was convicted of contravening Rule 25.5 (1) of the ANC Constitution “by behaving in such a way as to provoke serious divisions or a breakdown of unity in the organisation”. His sin was that he addressed a press conference on 31 July 2011 at the conclusion of an ANC Youth League NEC meeting where he said amongst other things “in the past we know President Mbeki used that agenda very well …. The African agenda is no longer a priority and we think that there is a temptation by the coloniser and the imperialist to want to recolonise Africa in a different but sophisticated way and President Mbeki stood directly opposed to that type of conduct.”

The NDC found that through his utterances Malema sought to portray the ANC government and its leadership under President Zuma in a negative light which therefore had the potential to sow division and disunity in the ANC. The NDCA confirmed the reasoning of the NDC. The implications of this verdict are rather stark. Any ANC member who now suggests that an out of favour former President may have done some good and that he might have been better than an incumbent leader can now be kicked out of the Party for contravening Rule 25.5(1). If this principle had been applied consistently in the past, Mbeki would have been able to get rid of Zuma and most of his opponents long before the votes were counted at Polokwane. To his credit, he never used such tactics against them.

The verdict comes perilously close to suggesting that no ANC member will henceforth be allowed ever to criticise the incumbent ANC leadership in public. This is a rather handy precedent to set if one intends to stand for a second (or third) term in office or if one wishes to “manage” future leadership elections. To my mind the ruling on this point seems profoundly undemocratic and deeply dangerous and both ANC members and other members of the public should feel more than a bit worried about this move. One should not confuse approval for the outcome of this case (silencing Malema) with what is good for the ANC and South Africa and if one does, one underestimates the possible ruthlessness of the current bunch of ANC leaders aiming to secure a second term for themselves at Mangaung.

Malema was also convicted of contravening Rule 25.5 (c) of the Constitution of the ANC by behaving in such a way as to bring the organisation into disrepute. This was done for ostensibly slightly more plausible reasons, namely because he addressed a press conference on 31 July 2011 by making announcements amongst others:

That the Botswana leadership of government poses a serious threat to Africa so we need a progressive government in Botswana; We are not going to sit with neighbours that conduct themselves like that. Botswana is in full co-operation with imperialists and the government is undermining the African agenda; The ANC Youth League would establish a Botswana Command Team which would work towards uniting all opposition forces in Botswana to oppose the puppet regime of Botswana led by the Botswana Democratic Party.

Now, imagine, for a moment that the statement did not relate to Botswana but to Zimbabwe and that Zwelenzima Vavi had made it and not Malema. Imagine Vavi had said that Robert Mugabe and his Zanu-PF had ruined Zimbabwe and that Cosatu would mobilise ANC members to oppose the murderous regime in Zimbabwe and to unite opposition forces in that country to try and oust Mugabe. If the Zuma and Mantashe had then proceeded to discipline Vavi and if he was then suspended from the ANC, would we all be cheering this on as we are doing with the Malema case?

Surely ordinary ANC members (yes, also those who helped to get rid of Thabo Mbeki at Polokwane, ostensibly because of his dictatorial tendencies) should feel more than a bit uncomfortable by the manner in which Malema had been dealt with? I ask again: will there be other casualties and will the same principles be used to get rid of other opponents who do not shut up? Will they go after Matthews Phosa? Will they go after Kgalema Motlanthe if he ever grew a backbone and actually indicated that he was interested in presidency of the ANC? Will they go after our charming, but arch-opportunist, Tokyo Sexwale, for showing rather too much ambition?

And should this not all be read against the background of the pending suspension of a senior NPA prosecutor, reportedly because she refused to drop charges against crime intelligence boss Richard Mdluli who is said to enjoy protection from “right at the topâ€? Remember that last year a secret report prepared by Mduli was leaked to the newspaper and that this report claimed that various ANC leaders met in January 2010 in Estcourt, KwaZulu-Natal to plot the ouster of Jacob Zuma. (Why crime intelligence was involved in such a story is unclear as it is perfectly legal in a democracy for political contenders within a party to plot against each other – as long as they use only legal means.)

Key members of the group that is said to have met are KwaZulu-Natal provincial premier Zweli Mkhize and Human Settlements Minister Tokyo Sexwale.

Remember also that the Secrecy Bill has just as much if not more to do with attempts by the intelligence agencies (firmly under the control of Zuma and Mantashe) to protect their agents and to prevent any exposure of their – legal or illegal – activities which we now know (thanks to Mduli) also focus on the succession race inside the ANC.

It might be that Malema is a special case and that the extraordinary precedent set by this disciplinary case against Malema will not be used against other critics of the current ANC leadership or against anyone who dares to show any ambition to take over the job of President or Secretary General of the ANC. But do not count on it.

Posted in: ANC, Gwede Mantashe, Jacob Zuma, Julius Malema, Kgalema Motlanthe.

Silence = Death

Feb 2nd, 2012
by Pierre De Vos.
71 comments

Yesterday, more than six years and about 50 postponements later, four of the men who brutally murdered Zoliswa Nkonyana because she was a lesbian were finally sentenced to an effective fourteen years in jail. On the same day, in another part of South Africa, three men were sentenced to 25 years imprisonment by the Phalaborwa Regional Court for poaching Rhino. Decisions on the sentencing of serious criminals is not an exact science, but on its face, the difference between the relatively light sentences imposed on Nkonyana’s killers compared to the sentences imposed on the Rhino poachers, seems rather stark.

There is strong anecdotal evidence (as well as some research from South Africa and the USA), that suggests the race, the gender, the class, the HIV status, the sexual orientation or the education level of both the killer and of the victim sometimes play a role in the severity of the sentence imposed on a killer. A white farmer who kills a black labourer may sometime receive a lighter sentence than a black unemployed youth who kills a blonde young woman. A heterosexual man who kills a lesbian may sometimes receive a lighter sentence than a poor gay man who kills a rich heterosexual banker. And if one kills a tourist who lives in Europe one might well get a far heavier sentence than if one kills a poor black woman living in a rural area.

Given the serious delays in the Nkonyana case, coupled with reports of sloppy investigation and the stalling tactics used by the lawyers representing the killers, it is a bit of a miracle that the four men were indeed convicted and sentenced yesterday. From personal experience I know that not all members of the police are eager to investigate hate crimes against gay men and lesbians and often fail to investigate reports of assault against gay men, lesbians and transgendered persons. And if they do investigate the crimes they often fail to do so with the same diligence than they would investigate, say, the murder of a foreign tourist or a blond girlfriend of a rugby player.

This is not to deny that we have made progress over the past 15 years. At least the case was investigated and brought to court, the accused received a fair trial and the presiding officer was prepared to convict the killers and sentence them to jail – despite the fact that they “only†killed a black lesbian.

For example, some years ago Judge President John Hlophe allowed Christopher Moses “to get away with murder†because his victim was HIV positive. Moses had killed a gay man called, Gerhard Pretorius, and then claimed that, on the night of the murder, he and the deceased had unprotected penetrative sex for the first time. He also claimed that after the sex, Pretorius told him that he had HIV.

Moses’s defence, as stated by his psychiatrist, was that he flew into “an annihilatory rage†beyond his control. The state psychiatrist demonstrated that Moses could not have lost total control because the evidence demonstrated a sustained “complex and goal- oriented†attack. Academic critics argued that Hlophe should have found Moses guilty of murder and that he had misapplied the doctrine of criminal capacity to the case. The murderer’s personal circumstances indicated a reduced sentence would have been appropriate. Instead, Hlophe found that knowingly exposing a person to HIV was sufficient reason to murder them with an excuse of “uncontrollable rageâ€. He ignored the undisputed objective evidence of premeditation, including fetching two different knives to finish a murder and then setting about creating an alibi.

In any event, it is impossible to say whether the sentences imposed on Zoliswa Nkonyana’s killers would have been significantly lighter if the court had not made a ground-breaking ruling that the killing was motivated by homophobic hate and if this was not taken into account as an aggravating factor in sentencing. Section 28 of the Equality Act states that when the state proves that unfair discrimination on the grounds of race, gender or disability played a part in the commission of the offence, this must be regarded as an aggravating circumstance for purposes of sentence, but the court yesterday extended this to sexual orientation. This section does not mention sexual orientation discrimination or any other criminal attacks animated by hatred for gay men or lesbians

Interesting, while looking at this aspect of the Equality Act, I have been unable to determine whether the provisions of this part of the Equality Act (which deals with the Promotion of Equality by the State and private individuals) have indeed come into operation. My LexisNexis legal database states that the date of commencement of these sections is “still to be proclaimedâ€. This means that the positive obligations imposed by the Equality Act to promote equality and thus deal with the causes of prejudice and discrimination have never been put into force, which would be strange, given the professed commitment of our government to the achievement of equality.

Section 25 of the Equality Act spells out some of the positive obligations placed on the state by this Act to promote equality.

(1) The State must, where necessary with the assistance of the relevant constitutional institutions (a) develop awareness of fundamental rights in order to promote a climate of understanding, mutual respect and equality; (b) take measures to develop and implement programmes in order to promote equality; and (c) where necessary or appropriate: (i) develop action plans to address any unfair discrimination, hate speech or harassment; (ii) enact further legislation that seeks to promote equality and to establish a legislative framework in line with the objectives of this Act; (iii) develop codes of practice as contemplated in this Act in order to promote equality, and develop guidelines, including codes in respect of reasonable accommodation; (iv) provide assistance, advice and training on issues of equality; (v) develop appropriate internal mechanisms to deal with complaints of unfair discrimination, hate speech or harassment; (vi) conduct information campaigns to popularise this Act.

(2) The South African Human Rights Commission and other relevant constitutional institutions may, in addition to any other obligation, in terms of the Constitution or any law, request any other component falling within the definition of the State or any person to supply information on any measures relating to the achievement of equality including, where appropriate, on legislative and executive action and compliance with legislation, codes of practice and programmes.

(4) All Ministers must implement measures within the available resources which are aimed at the achievement of equality in their areas of responsibility by: (a) eliminating any form of unfair discrimination or the perpetuation of inequality in any law, policy or practice for which those Ministers are responsible; and (b) preparing and implementing equality plans in the prescribed manner, the contents of which must include a time frame for implementation of such plans, formulated in consultation with the Minister of Finance.

Once these sections become operational (if ever) the state will have a legal duty to take the lead in educating the public around issues such as racism, sexism, homophobia, religious intolerance (including intolerance against non-believers), and prejudices against disabled persons.

The fact that this has not happened to the degree envisaged by the Constitution (and by these seemingly inoperable provisions of the Equality Act), suggests that not all members of our government (at both national and provincial level) are fully committed to the eradication of all forms of hatred and prejudice and to the promotion of a world in which all kinds of differences between people are respected and even celebrated.

What is needed to turn the tide against prejudice and hatred based on sexual orientation (as well as race, sex, gender and disability) is political leadership from the highest level. Unless the President, the Deputy President and Ministers (as well as Premiers and MEC’s and Mayors) regularly speak out against homophobia (and other forms of prejudice) and against the violence and threats of violence that haunt especially working class, black, gay men, lesbians and other sexual minorities, attitudes will not begin to change.

Just like Helen Zille needs to speak out regularly against racism and the racial utterances of people like Steve Hofmeyer, so Jacob Zuma should speak out against the homophobic statements that are regularly made by other politicians, community leaders and religious leaders.

Until these leaders stop feeling embarrassed about the fact that we have different sexual orientations and until they stop – through their silence – from condoning the hatred and prejudice that too often spill over into violence against gay men and lesbians, attitudes will not begin to change.

A good place to start a campaign that would foster respect for difference would be in our schools. School principals need to be trained in diversity management and should only be promoted if they can demonstrate that they have taken steps to create a school environment in which racial, gender, sexual orientation and religious diversity is not only tolerated but celebrated. An environment should be created in which teachers begin to realise that they have a duty to promote the values contained in our Constitution – including the value of respect for the human dignity of everyone, regardless of his or her sexual orientation.

The truth is that most politicians are uncomfortable about sexuality issues and would rather never have to think about the fact that gay men and lesbians exist and that they are our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers, our sons and daughters, our comrades and colleagues. They will not speak out against injustice because they are scared that they will be viewed with suspicion (and might be suspected of being gay or lesbian themselves), so they keep quiet while people like Zoliswa Nkonyana get harassed, assaulted, raped and murdered.

White South Africans have a specific duty to speak out against racism whenever it is expressed or perpetrated by fellow whites. When they keep silent around braaivleis fires, in boardrooms, at dinner parties when somebody tells a racist joke or makes racist statements about black South Africans, they become complicit in the perpetuation of racism. Similarly, if we remain silent in the face of implicit or explicit homophobia amongst our friends we become complicit in homophobia and, ultimately, in the killing of gay men and lesbians.

How anyone can justify his or her silence in the face of racism and sexism and homophobia, I really do not know.

Posted in: DA, Dignity, discrimination, HIV/AIDS, Sexual orientation.

Secrecy Bill less about media freedom, more about national security state

Jan 31st, 2012
by Pierre De Vos.
119 comments

Not enough South Africans understand that the Protection of State Information Bill (also popularly known as the Secrecy Bill) now being considered by the National Council of Provinces (NCOP) is not primarily aimed at muzzling the media. Although in its current form the Bill will have a chilling effect on the media and would probably stop many whistleblowers from leaking sensitive or embarrassing information to the media, the Bill is primarily aimed at shielding the various intelligence agencies and structures from too much scrutiny and at ensuring that the ordinary constitutional checks and balances that apply to other organs of state that exercise public power would not apply to the intelligence services.

Because we get most of our information about the Secrecy Bill from the media, it is not surprising that members of the media have focused on their own short-term interests and have argued (not entirely correctly) that the Bill was primarily aimed at muzzling the press and at hiding corruption. But this view fails to consider the broader context within which the Secrecy Bill is being discussed.

One must recall that this Bill originated with (and was drafted by) members of the intelligence services and is primarily aimed at creating a legal regime that would provide a veil of secrecy behind which our spies would be able to hide. As long as our intelligence services do what they are constitutionally mandated to do and do not abuse their powers, the Bill will, in my opinion, not have as dramatic an effect on the media landscape in South Africa as some commentators have argued.

(Of course, if the Minister of State Security misused this Bill and extended the power of classification to many of the more than 1000 organs of state — as he is empowered to do in terms of the current draft — the Bill may well be used to hide corruption and maladministration on a vast scale, but that was not the primary objective of the Bill.)

Section 199 of the Constitution contains several provisions that signal an understanding on the part of the drafters of the Constitution that security services could easily be misused by the government of the day. Thus it states that the security services must act, and must teach and require their members to act, in accordance with the constitution and the law; that national security must be pursued in compliance with the law, including international law; and that no member of any security service may obey a manifestly illegal order. The security services are obliged to respect constitutional rights and they are prohibited from prejudicing or furthering the interests of political parties.

Dr Laurie Nathan, who has written extensively on the South African Intelligence Services and was also a member of the Ministerial Review Commission on Intelligence (along with Joe Matthews, a former Deputy Minister of Safety and Security, who chaired the body, and Dr Frene Ginwala, the first Speaker of our democratic Parliament), has warned that:

There is ample historical evidence that politicians and intelligence officers can abuse these powers [of intelligence agencies] to infringe rights without good cause, interfere in politics and favour or prejudice a political party or leader, thereby subverting democracy. They can intimidate the government’s opponents, create a climate of fear and manipulate intelligence in order to influence state decision-making and public opinion. Given these dangers, democratic societies are confronted by the challenge of constructing rules and controls that prevent misconduct by the intelligence services without constraining the services to such an extent that they are unable to fulfil their duties. In short, the challenge is to ensure that the intelligence agencies pursue a legitimate mandate in a legitimate manner.

The Review Commission (which reviewed the National Intelligence Agency (NIA); the South African Secret Service (SASS); the National Intelligence Coordinating Committee (NICOC); the National Communications Centre (NCC); the Office for Interception Centres (OIC); and Electronic Communications Security (Pty) Ltd)) reported that the intelligence agencies in South Africa have not fully embraced the constitutional system with its requirements for openness, transparency and accountability and have not always adhered to the letter and spirit of the Constitution and the law.

Although South Africa’s intelligence legislation and governance arrangements have undergone dramatic transformation since the end of apartheid in 1994 and now compare favourably with those in established democracies, there seems to be a disconnect between what the law requires and what happens in practice.

For example the Review Commission found that  the Minister of Intelligence has issued secret regulations that are known only to the intelligence community. The intelligence legislation permits the Minister to do this despite the constitution’s clear statement that regulations must be accessible to the public. Similarly, the Constitution provides that the Auditor General’s reports must be submitted to the relevant legislature and must be made public. Nevertheless, the audit reports on the intelligence services are presented only to the parliamentary Joint Standing Committee on Intelligence (JSCI) and are classified.

As the Report points out (and as Dr Nathan has pointed out elsewhere), despite the fact that the Constitution states that national budgets and budgetary processes must promote transparency and accountability, the annual budgets of the intelligence services are secret; they are reviewed by the JSCI but are not presented to Parliament.

By executive decision the members of the intelligence services are excluded from the labour rights in the Bill of Rights, but this limitation of rights is not covered by legislation as required by the constitution. The Review Commission argued that these deviations from the Constitution are unsound and impermissible. This view was shared by the National Treasury with respect to the intelligence budgets; by the Auditor General with respect to the audit reports on the intelligence services; by the Inspector General and the State Law Adviser with respect to labour rights; and by the Inspector General with respect to the use of intrusive measures.

Most seriously, the Review Commission found that intelligence services regularly infringed on the right to privacy through intrusive methods that are unconstitutional. For example, it found that the NCC, which intercepts electronic signals such as cell phone conversations, is engaged in eavesdropping that is unconstitutional and unlawful. This is because the centre fails to comply with the requirements of the Regulation of Interception of Communications and Provision of Communication-Related Information Act of 2002, which prohibits the interception of communication without judicial authorisation.

It is in this context that the Secrecy Bill must be evaluated. It may be that the Review Commission Report was acted upon decisively and that the culture of secrecy and lawlessness reported on in the Commissions finding have been addressed in a bold and decisive manner. But, given the fact that it is always difficult to change a culture of secrecy that is deeply entrenched, it will not be surprising if the serious problems with the Intelligence Services (which threaten the health of our constitutional democracy) have persisted or have even become worse.

Imagine what would happen if  the Intelligence Services tapped your phone (or the phone of any other person considered — rightly or wrongly — to be an “enemy of the state”), if they abducted you (or any other person considered — rightly or wrongly — to be an enemy of the state”) and “rendered you to Pakistan, the USA or Syria to be tortured and maybe killed. What would happen if these institutions with access to mountains of information and the technology and manpower to run disinformation campaigns and terrorise people, embarked on secret projects to destabilise civil society groups, social movements, labour movements or opposition parties who they perceive to be threatening the stability of the state?

If the state were then to be conflated with the government of the day, what will emerge is a national security state in which the normal laws of the country may not apply as strictly to the intelligence community, while its abuse of power and flouting of the law would be difficult if not impossible to expose without facing arrest and eventual imprisonment for between 2 and 25 years. The Secrecy Bill will then become a powerful weapon to protect this national security state and will protect its agents and the institutions who act in such illegal ways from exposure in the  media.

When Moloto Mothapo, from the Office of the ANC Chief Whip, wrote late last year that the Secrecy Bill was essentially a security Bill, not a media Bill, “aimed at protecting the national security of the Republic of South Africa”, this reassurance might have been more illusory than most people might have realised.

It is in this context that claims of the security establishment that the Bill is firmly in line with best international practice must be interrogated. During a National Assembly debate on the Bill late last year, State Security Minister Siyabonga Cwele said: “We have looked at international best practices and there is no country which practises such reckless practice.” He said that even Britain’s Official Secrets Act did not include a public interest defence.

Putting aside the fact that — unlike Britain – South Africa has a written Constitution that contains a set of fundamental human rights which can be enforced by our courts, these claims are not as plausible as one might at first believe them to be. For example, those who claim the Bill contains international best practice, might either be unfamiliar with (or might deliberately be misleading the public about) the fact that in 1995 a group of experts in international law, national security, and human rights, the International Centre Against Censorship, in collaboration with the Centre for Applied Legal Studies of the University of the Witwatersrand, adopted the Johannesburg Principles on National Security, Freedom of Expression and Access to Information in Johannesburg and that the Bill in no way measure up to these principles.

The Principles have been endorsed by Mr. Abid Hussain, the UN Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Opinion and Expression, in his reports to the 1996, 1998, 1999 and 2001 sessions of the United Nations Commission on Human Rights, and referred to by the Commission in their annual resolutions on freedom of expression every year since 1996.

Principle 15 state that:

No person may be punished on national security grounds for disclosure of information if (1) the disclosure does not actually harm and is not likely to harm a legitimate national security interest, or (2) the public interest in knowing the information outweighs the harm from disclosure.

This principle thus captures the so called public interest defence, something that our politicians say is foreign to international law. This claim clearly is not sustainable. This principle is further supported by a whistle blowers provision in principle 16 which states that “[n]o person may be subjected to any detriment on national security grounds for disclosing information that he or she learned by virtue of government service if the public interest in knowing the information outweighs the harm from disclosure”.

Furthermore, principle 18 states that the “[p]rotection of national security may not be used as a reason to compel a journalist to reveal a confidential source”.

If one reads the Johannesburg Principles and one evaluates the provisions of the Secrecy Bill against these principles then it is clear that the Secrecy Bill does not, as our Minister of Secrecy and other officials claim, comply with international best practice (best practice captured in the Johannesburg Principles).

Even if we had no worries about the possible abuse of the Intelligence Services (which would be naive, even in the most progressive state), the Secrecy Bill should therefore raise serious concerns about the power and influence of the security services and the corruption of the state by the various spy agencies whose job it is to obfuscate, lie and hide information (sometimes for a worthy cause and often for a nefarious cause).

But given the content of the Intelligence Review Report (a report authored by a credible expert and two people intimately connected with the ANC and the government it leads), the fact that our Minister of State Security is so adamant on passing a piece of legislation that almost certainly infringes on the right of access to information and the right of freedom of expression protected in the Constitution, must be truly worrying. And the worry stems less from the narrow concerns raised by the media and more from a broader concern about the securitisation of South Africa’s democracy and the potential devastating effect this may have on social movements and other grassroots democratic forces who might pose a challenge to the entrenched interests of a certain faction of the governing party who controls the state.

Posted in: ANC, Constitution, democracy, Freedom of expression, Governance, media.

Siessa Patricia!

Jan 30th, 2012
by Pierre De Vos.
100 comments

When Mitt Romney, the Republican presidential candidate, was criticised for the manner in which he became very rich (by breaking up companies and firing workers), for paying less than 15% in taxes (while the average rate in the US for a low to medium income earner is around 30%), and for sheltering from paying taxes by keeping money in the Cayman Islands and in a Swiss Bank account, he repeatedly said that such criticism was aimed at dividing America.

Lemme tell ya something. America is a great nation, because we’re a united nation and those who are trying to divide the nation as you’re trying to do here and as the president is doing are hurting this country, seriously. The right course for America is not to divide America, and try and divide us between one and another, it’s for us to come together as a nation. And if you’ve got a better model, if you think China is better, or Russia is better, or Cuba’s better, or North Korea’s better, I’m glad to hear all about it. But you know what? America’s right, and you’re wrong!

This argument is often used by the rich, who complain that the so called 99% of the US population (who are not stinking rich) may be stoking “class warfare”. It serves as a handy mechanism for stopping anyone from questioning the inequality, the unearned privileges bestowed on the rich, and the obscene unfairness of the US economic and social system and helps to protect the status quo.

I was therefore surprised when Cape Town mayor, Patricia de Lille (who used to have more progressive principles before she joined the Democratic Alliance), used this same kind of language to attack people who were planning to highlight unfairness and economic inequality in Cape Town by “occupying” the Rondebosch common (a piece of untidy, windswept grass and bushes in the middle of the leafy middle-class suburbs of Cape Town).

Last week, in a speech delivered by the mayor in the city council chambers, De Lille called the leader of the protest (a guy with the wonderful name of Mario Wanza) and his supporters “agents of destruction†and then continued:

There are those who would sooner see this city destroyed, driven in two by violence and aggression, than be a part of a shared destiny. I tell this council now, those agents of division will not win. I think here in particular of Mario Wanza, a would-be but failed public servant, who claims to speak on behalf of the people of the Cape Flats. … [I would not allow] these agents of destruction to use their misguided, naive and brutal misunderstandings of the politics of race to divide this city. … I tell the people of Cape Town this: They will not succeed because we will not let them.

Given these fighting words (with De Lille seemingly channelling her inner PW Botha), it was perhaps not surprising that the police refused to give permission for the gathering and declared the gathering “illegal”. The police did so on what appears to be spurious grounds, arguing that organisers arrived “between 15 and 30 minutes late” for their meeting with police officials and that organisers insisted on having all nine elected representatives present in the meeting as opposed to four.

These reasons are, to say the least, completely spurious, suggesting that the police had a mandate to stop this gathering at any cost. In fact this kind of reasoning has a rather authoritarian ring to it and seems to be based on the assumption that taking part in a protest is not a right, but a privilege that can be bestowed and can also be taken away by a police officer if an organiser of a gathering does not behave “properlyâ€. This used to be the legal situation in apartheid South Africa, but as we now live in a constitutional democracy it is no longer the case. Somebody should tell the police (and mayor De Lille)

The Regulation of Gatherings Act makes it very clear that the responsible police officer has a duty to negotiate with organisers of a gathering and to do so in a way that would help the organisers to conduct a peaceful protest march or gathering. Where a police officer fails to do everything in his or her power to ensure that a peaceful and orderly gathering can take place, that police officer is breaking the law and is also infringing on the constitutionally guaranteed rights of citizens.

Reading the various provisions of the Gatherings Act, it is impossible to see how the police could validly have declared this gathering illegal and how they could reasonably have believed that they had the right to do so. The relevant police officers either have difficulty with basic English comprehension or they deliberately decided to flout the provisions of the Regulation of Gatherings Act in order to get this gathering declared illegal (which happened to comply with the wishes of mayor De Lille).

One would have hoped that De Lille would have condemned this apparent abuse of power by the Police. After all, she is a leader of the DA, a political party who has often (rightly) expressed outrage when ANC-aligned government officials flout the law. The DA is also a party who has presented itself as a champion of the Rule of Law – even challenging the unlawful appointment of Menzi Simelane as National Director of Public Prosecutions in court. But alas, when the fears and short term interests of upper-middle class DA voters clash with respect for the law and adherence to democratic principles, one should not expect principle to hold sway. The mayor thus made statements which endorsed the dubious notion that this gathering was an “illegal” one.

The Regulation of Gatherings Act makes it clear that every person has the right to assemble with other persons and to express his or her views on any matter freely in public and to enjoy the protection of the State while doing so. As such, this Act gives expression to the right of everyone (guaranteed in section 17 of the Bill of Rights), peacefully and unarmed, to assemble, to demonstrate, to picket and to present petitions.

This right is an important one for any democracy as it helps to even out the political playing field. Given the fact that access to money and a proximity to the powerful often give certain people or pressure groups disproportionate influence over the politicians and the political process, this right to protest can be viewed as a right that is of particular importance for the poor, the powerless and the dispossessed. How else will people living in poor and marginalised communities have their voices heard and their concerns listened to?

My guess is that the rather reactionary tone of De Lille’s statement and the heavy-handed and probably illegal actions of the police stem from the fear that a protest on the Rondebosch common would indeed provide a voice to the voiceless and would challenge the cosy elite pact between the politicians and the rich (the very rich whose donations keep the major political parties afloat).

Because the right to protest is fundamental to the proper functioning of a democracy, the Gatherings Act assumes that gatherings and protests will almost always be allowed and that technicalities will not be used to ban protests that would make the powers that be uncomfortable. Thus section 3(5)(c) of the Act even requires the relevant police officers to try and identify organisers of protests and gatherings and then engaging with those organisers – even if no notice was given of the protest or gathering by its organisers. Furthermore, section 4(1) places a legal duty on the responsible officer to engage with organisers of a gathering or protest to try and reach agreement about how the gathering or protest would be conducted.

Section 4(4)(b) of the Act also allows the responsible officer to impose certain conditions on the gathering or protest if there are reasonable grounds to do so in order to minimise traffic disruptions, to ensure continued access for others to their places of work and property, to prevent injury to any person and to prevent the destruction of property. When an officer imposes such conditions he or she is required by law to give written reasons for this.

Section 5 of the Act makes it clear that a gathering or protest may only be prohibited in extreme cases. This section states that:

When credible information on oath is brought to the attention of a responsible officer that there is a threat that a proposed gathering will result in serious disruption of vehicular or pedestrian traffic, injury to participants in the gathering or other persons, or extensive damage to property, and that the Police and the traffic officers in question will not be able to contain this threat, he shall forthwith meet or, if time does not allow it, consult with the convener and the authorized member, if possible, and any other person with whom, he believes, he should meet or consult, including the representatives of any police community consultative forum in order to consider the prohibition of the gathering.

Only after such a meeting would a responsible officer be able to prohibit a gathering, if he or she is convinced “on reasonable grounds” that no amendment to the conditions of the gathering would prevent serious disruptions or extensive damage to property.

Now, people who are familiar with Cape Town would know that no person could reasonably claim that a gathering on the Rondebosch common would seriously disrupt traffic or that it would pose a serious risk to people or that extensive damage to property would ensue. There are no buildings on the common and nobody lives or works on the common, so how the police could have decided that the gathering posed a serious risk to the safety of people or to damage of property is beyond me. In fact, I would go as far as saying that the police acted illegally (perhaps spurred on by the incendiary comments of the mayor?) by banning the gathering. The subsequent heavy handed actions against those who chose to gather on the common and the arrest of all those who took part was therefore in all likelihood illegal.

A liberal administration would never have made the kind of statements that De Lille made and would never have suggested that the protestors should be stopped. A liberal administration would have championed the right of protesters to gather and convey their message (even in a suburb where rich DA voters predominate) and would have done everything in its power to ensure that a peaceful protest with the least amount of disruption took place. But then again, the DA administration in Cape Town can probably only be said to be liberal in name.

PS: The headline is an ironic quotation of a headline which appeared in Die Son newspaper a few years ago when it reported on the fact that “singer” Patricia Lewis “acted” in a soft porn movie.

Posted in: DA, democracy, Freedom of expression, Liberal.

← Earlier Posts

You are viewing a mobilized version of this site...
View original page here

Mobilized by Mowser Mowser