Mbeki's toughest decision

Sunday June 12 was a crisp winter's day on the South African high veld. By the afternoon, President Thabo Mbeki had finally made his decision.

His deputy, Jacob Zuma, a man he had counted among his most trusted friends for 30 years, would have to be fired. The Durban High Court Judge Hillary Squires had convicted Zuma's financial adviser Schabir Shaik of paying more than $256,000 to Zuma for favours to advance his business interests. Zuma and Shaik, he said, had had a "generally corrupt relationship".

It was the moment of truth for Mbeki, who was showing, in the words of an aide, that "quiet resolve, that silent resolve you see in his eyes".

The friendship was over. All that remained was deciding how this grave political task would be carried out.

That afternoon he met three officials at his Pretoria residence. Joel Netshitenzhe, the head of government communications was accompanied by the Rev Frank Chikane, a former church leader who has run Mbeki's government office throughout his presidency, and Mojanku Gumbi, Mbeki's legal adviser.

He asked their opinion. What would work best? A nationally televised address? A press conference? Parliament?

All agreed: it had to be Parliament. The President needed to communicate how serious this decision was.

He had to face the country's elected representatives and deliver his decision unflinchingly.

Arrangements were made to call Parliament's Speaker Baleka Kgositsile and request a special joint sitting of both houses of Parliament.

But before that, on the same day, the President wanted to meet his party leadership in Cape Town.

Before Squires' judgment Mbeki's inner circle had been quietly hoping against hope that the judge would somehow explain how Zuma could legitimately have received money from Shaik and a French arms company.

But by the time Judge Squires had finished delivering his judgment, it was clear that the point of no return had been reached.

The Deputy President would surely do the right thing and resign, Mbeki reasoned. But Zuma sent out a signal in the days following the judgment that suggested otherwise.

He told a breakfast with South African businessmen in Lusaka, Zambia: "My conscience is clear because I know that I have not committed any crime, nor was I charged with any criminal offence. I was therefore not in court to answer to any of the allegations made."

On the Saturday and the Sunday after the judgment a peculiar ritual played itself out on the grounds of the Government's residential estate in Pretoria.

Zuma had returned from Zambia and he and Mbeki spent the weekend at their official residences, a short stroll across the park from each other.

But they did not meet once, not even to exchange pleasantries.

Mbeki wanted to keep a face-to-face meeting with Zuma as his final card, to be played only if Zuma could not be persuaded to do the honourable thing.

The President met ANC officials Mendi Msimang and Kgalema Motlanthe. As treasurer-general, Msimang held one of the more low-key posts at the ANC's headquarters but having been in exile from South Africa during apartheid, like Mbeki and Zuma, he made a natural emissary.

As secretary-general, Motlanthe spoke with authority. He had previously declared himself against the persecution of Zuma and also made a credible go-between.

For two days, they tried to achieve first prize: a resignation. Zuma reacted badly. He had done no wrong, had not been tried and would not step down. Full stop.

Former President Nelson Mandela would later also attempt to persuade Zuma to step down, also to no avail.

By the Monday morning, the public clamour for action had grown and Mbeki played his final card. He spent between two and three hours talking to Zuma, one on one.

Afterwards, it was clear that first prize would not be achieved. Zuma would stay unless dismissed and even then, he would leave under protest.

As Mbeki prepared to depart for Chile on a two-day official visit, a statement from his office said that when he returned he would "communicate to the public any decisions that he will have taken on the matter".

Mbeki cancelled the second leg of his South American trip, a planned visit to Argentina, and was set to return home on Thursday, June 9.

Mbeki has, since last year's general election campaign, worked hard to project a less formal image, often breaking from official programmes to talk to ordinary people. But in Chile and back home afterwards he appeared to have withdrawn once more. He had a lot on his mind, and it showed.

Accepting an honorary degree in Santiago, he quoted Pablo Neruda "We go on loving love and in our blunt way/ We bury the liars and live among the truth-tellers."

He returned from Chile on the Thursday. Between then and the weekend, he would make up his mind. His conclusion would find its way into Mbeki's speech announcing Zuma's dismissal: the President was bound by the constitution to respect other spheres of government. It was not for the executive to disagree with findings by a judge. That function belonged to the higher courts.

Mbeki would tell Parliament: "Any actions we may take arising out of Justice Squires's judgment would arise merely from the fact that a court judgment exists, which our constitution enjoins us to respect."

Mbeki's conclusion was clear: he would not wait for Shaik's appeal. He would act immediately.

The discussions with his advisers turned to other, less institutional, considerations. What would failure to act mean? The conclusion was that there was a strong danger that corruption would achieve critical mass, that a tipping point would be reached where it became endemic.

In the words of one of the advisers: "You could end up looking like a Nigeria or an Italy. You would lower the threshold of public tolerance or should that be public intolerance? You would find yourself perpetually having to defend someone very senior."

Mbeki occasionally interrupted the discussion to recall his relationship with Zuma, how they had worked together in the ANC underground in Swaziland decades ago. He seemed sad and emotionally drained, said an aide.

The President canvassed opinion on the political fallout of firing Zuma. What effect would this have on the ANC's own Youth League, on its trade union ally, the Congress of South African Trade Unions (Cosatu)?

The conclusion was that while there were strident voices defending Zuma in public, there were others who felt differently.

One aide put it this way: "The undisciplined ones were very loud. The disciplined ones were silent."

There was only one decision that could be reached. By the Sunday afternoon, Mbeki had put aside his 30-year friendship.

On the Tuesday he met the ANC's extended National Working Committee at his home. Included in the gathering were the secretary-generals of the ANC's two alliance partners, Cosatu and the South African Communist Party. The presence of Cosatu's Zwelinzima Vavi and the SACP's Blade Nzimande was significant. Both had been outspoken in their demand that Zuma not be fired. But, faced with a resolute Mbeki, they backed down.

"Was it unanimous? Let's put it this way: No one argued against that it needed to be done, that it was the prerogative of the President," said one long-serving NWC member.

Ahead of the speech, there remained one final, prickly logistical detail. Would it be wise, a senior Mbeki adviser wondered, for Zuma to be seated in Parliament while the President dismissed him from office?

Zuma, it was decided, would watch from outside Parliament, leaving his seat vacant.

Mbeki stood up to make the most difficult speech of his life.

The friendship was over. All that remained was the awful grind of politics.

- SUNDAY TIMES, JOHANNESBURG