The public protector threatened President Cyril Ramaphosa with a subpoena for failing to respond to 31 questions about $4 million in cash that had been stolen from his Phala Phala game farm.
The theft of the cash, which had been stuffed in a sofa, has become known as Farmgate.
Now, instead of responding to the public protector as he ought to and the process dictates, Ramaphosa wants to file his response in court but the acting public protector is having none of it. His stalling and reluctance to answer the questions suggests he has something to hide.
The theft four years ago was revealed in criminal charges a former intelligence officer laid. Instead of reporting the theft, Ramaphosa's police personal protection officers tracked down the thieves and a domestic worker in South Africa and Namibia and paid them off to keep quiet.
Ramaphosa's said the money was from the proceeds of game sales.
While it's possible the full $4 million or increments thereof was from sales, it's unlikely. Law-abiding South Africans would pay in local currency, and it's unlikely foreign buyers would carry around large sums of cash. Both would pay by bank transfer.
It would be easy, though, to determine if the cash was from sales: track the sales or auctions and what was sold and how much for. And the sales should be recorded in his personal and Phala Phala income statements.
The existence of the money, that it was stuffed in a sofa and circumstances surrounding the theft are suspicious. Other than banks, the only people who keep large sums of cash are criminals, organised crime and tax evaders.
That it was kept in a sofa rather than a safe and not banked suggests it was illicit and Ramaphosa wanted it kept hidden. Given the ANC's history of corruption, it's within the realms of possibility the money was for pay-offs or shady transactions.
Even if the money was legally obtained, at the least Ramaphosa faces charges of foreign currency regulations, tax evasion, failing to report a crime, obstruction of justice, bribery (paying off the thieves) and unethical conduct relating to public office. His farm Phala Phala may face charges under the Companies Act for failing to record sales and tax evasion.
Ramaphosa is in trouble. The scandal comes when even his supporters, called Ramaphorias, are questioning his vacillating concensus style - as one wag called it, watching paint dry - when decisive leadership is needed. No way out of a stagnant economy, high unemployment, blackouts and social discontent are causing more people including former president Thabo Mbeki to question Ramaphosa's and ANC's fitness to govern. This week The Guardian said the scandal put his reelection as party leader in doubt.
Judge Raymond Zondo also found Ramaphosa should have done more to mitigate corruption as deputy president 2014 to 2018.
Ramaphosa's supporters' - a disparate group of the liberal left that includes the owners and contributors of Daily Maverick, Primedia, Business Day and academics Pierre de Vos and DM's anonymous legal writer - sustained assault on public protector Busisiwe Mkwebane makes more sense now.
The assault started, with little to no evidence, when her office investigated donations to his ANC election campaign, dubbed CR17, which included donations from Bosasa implicated in corruption surrounding Jacob Zuma. Her enemies are livid she's defending herself at the impeachment inquiry with tactics her counsel sees fit. (It would be interesting to see what they say about Ramaphosa's Zuma-style delaying tactics in refusing to answer the public protector's questions about the $4 million.)
Mkwebane did not lay the complaint herself as the Ramaphorias pretend she did. Ironically, at the start of her impeachment process last recently, Ramaphosa said he had nothing to do with it when he was the one who signed the order.
But it may come back to haunt them. Mkwebane's lawyer, Dali Mpofu, said he would summon Ramaphosa to give evidence about the CR17 donations. But unfortunately for them, even with her sidelined for now, the $4 million and theft are still being investigated.
The Guardian reports Ramaphosa's $700 million fortune was acquired during the decade he was away from politics. For one who started with nothing except his government salary post-1994, that is an amazing return on wealth. The same goes for other black oligarchs like his in-law Matthews Phosa and Tokyo Sexwale. By comparison, Johann Rupert who is worth about $4.5 billion is heir of a decades-old industrial empire.
In modern times the only others who achieved this kind of wealth so quickly are tech innovators, Hollywood A-list entertainers who earn $20-40 million a picture and sport stars. Tech billionaires only became super-rich after their companies went public but Ramaphosa's et al holdings are private, single ownership or limited ownership.
The closest comparison to South Africa's black oligarchs are the Russian oligarchs whose wealth was obtained under questionable methods, usually from corrupt government contracts where back-handers are required.
The black oligarchs acquired their wealth initially from white-funded seed money or investment and gifts of shares because whites needed black investors and board members to placate the ANC government. The black members are merely commission-earning middle-men and offered little in return except skin colour; the white companies don't really need them. Some of this commission money was funnelled to the ANC.
In the US or UK this is illegal under corruption or anti-trust laws. In South Africa it's called black economic empowerment.
Comments
Post a Comment