by Justin Foxton | Apr 16, 2016 | Democracy, Leadership
In August 2014 highly respected ANC veteran Pallo Jordan found himself in hot water over lies regarding his academic qualifications. He had claimed to have a PhD going by the title of Doctor for years.
Via an article in the Mail & Guardian, ANC secretary general Gwede Mantashe explained that Jordan had written to the party’s leadership taking full responsibility for what Jordan termed as “deceit over a long time”. Jordan apologised to the ANC, its members and all South Africans and resigned.
There are moments in all of our lives that come to define us as men and women. For leaders with position and power, these moments may go down in the annals of history. For leaders like you and I they may simply become part of the history of our own small lives, or be forever etched in the minds of our children: “My Dad was always someone who did the right thing”; “My Mum played fast and loose with the law.”
The story of Pallo Jordan’s deceit did not end with an apology to South Africans. That is because Pallo Jordan is a man of integrity. How can we possibly say that about a man who lied and cheated his way through decades of his life, receiving benefits that he should never have been entitled to? Well, we can say that because when confronted with that dreadful moment of truth about his lie (a variation of a lie that many of us have spoken in our lives to make ourselves or our companies sound more impressive), he chose to admit his mistakes and resign. With only the evidence provided by his conscience and a Sunday Times expose; without any pronouncements of a court of law – he did the hardest thing possible; he took responsibility and action. His apology would have meant nothing had he not resigned; his apology would simply have been a request for us to let him off the hook: “You have been a naughty boy Pallo, but we forgive you. Just don’t do it again.”
My primary memory of Pallo Jordan is not that he lied about his qualifications. I remember him for the fact that he resigned as a result of being exposed. I remember how quickly, how decisively and how humbly he did it. I remember how he saw fit to respect South Africans and our democracy by doing what only the strongest of men and women and the best of leaders can ever do – kick themselves when they are down. Regardless of the fact that he would lose money, face and power he did what I have come to understand any true veteran of the struggle would do; he stood up bravely against anyone who dared to compromise the integrity of that struggle and the democracy that resulted – even when that person was him.
I do not need to spell things out and in any case, much has been written about the man who still insists on calling himself our President. Suffice to say that whether you love him or hate him, this man will now be relegated to the trash-heap of history occupied by corrupt leaders; those who lied, cheated, deceived, manipulated and put themselves before the people. But he will not simply idle away his final years in ignominy for Nkandla or the fact that he violated his oath of office or any of the other atrocities committed by him. Ultimately, this will happen because he apologised without resigning. Had he resigned on Saturday night he may in years to come have even been honoured for some of his not insignificant achievements as President of the Republic. But now, history will only ever remember him for being a man who – when presented with that moment – chose to apologise but not resign. He will be remembered for the fact that he not only placed his needs before the party or his people, but before the constitution of the Republic.
And this is what stalwarts, elders and civil society leaders are now protesting over. They have nothing to lose from standing against the systematic destruction of this mighty organisation. They know that a weak ANC is bad for everyone and they will not look on as Rome burns. What the man who insists on calling himself our President – and the entire ANC – has missed is that this has gone beyond politics and a scrutinising of the letter of the law. This now sets in motion the ANC’s slide downwards to the trash-heap occupied by corrupt liberation movements; those who lied, cheated, deceived, manipulated and put themselves before the people. What a tragic trajectory.
Is it too late for redemption for either him or the ANC? I do not believe so. Provided this once proud organisation is able to liberate itself from its own propaganda and make itself accountable to you and I by speaking truth to power, then anything is possible.
Pallo Jordan proved that people are very forgiving when the right thing is done.
Justin Foxton is founder of The Peace Agency.
This column is dedicated to the memory of 17-year-old Anene Booysens: gang raped, mutilated and murdered, and our Mozambican brother Emmanuel Josias Sithole: beaten and stabbed to death.
by Justin Foxton | Dec 24, 2014 | Leadership
It was a short sentence that had nothing much to do with the content of the story. It was just sort of, there. But it’s there-ness was like a cold beer on a hot summer’s day and as I read it a small drop of hope landed in my heart.
The article was about a severe traffic snarl up in the Durban CBD caused by a scheduled blackout. Chaos reigned; points-men were in short supply and cars backed up for blocks. Then came the sentence – a quote from an eThekwini Metro Police spokesperson: “We apologise. We knew in advance that the power would go off.”
We happened to be caught in that traffic and my wife and I had a couple of things to say about both Eskom and the Metro Police. But when I read those 12 words my attitude towards the Metro Police softened. This is the power of an apology.
On a personal level I experienced this power in a meeting with an estranged friend and colleague. About a year ago we had had an altercation which had left our relationship in tatters but we recently made contact and decided to meet. It was a little awkward at first but then we began to talk and catch up and we both said our apologies in our own ways. We have begun a journey towards a renewed friendship and the world is a better place for it.
All this got me thinking about Christmas. Now let me be clear upfront; the message of Christmas is there for all so please don’t think that what I am about to say is just a Christian thing; it is a humanity thing.
On one level Christmas is about giving; it is a time for us to spoil and be spoilt. On another level Christmas has become known as a time of peace; an opportunity to press pause on our crazy lives and take a breath in preparation for a new year.
But perhaps an aspect of Christmas that has been lost in all the noise is that – at its core – Christmas is about forgiveness. This is simply because the man whose birth this day marks – Jesus Christ – personified forgiveness in a way that no historical figure before or since has done. He spoke of a new way of relating to one another and indeed to God regardless of what we may or may not have done. This remains as powerful now as it was 2000 odd years ago simply because forgiveness brings healing.
This orientation towards forgiveness shows up in people in a number of ways most notably the humility to ask for forgiveness. Contrary to what we may think this humility is a sign of ultimate strength; a leader – indeed any human being – is never more powerful than when he or she is admitting their mistakes, asking for forgiveness and – very importantly – explaining how they will fix what they have done. Take the recent case of Pallo Jordan apologising and then resigning from parliament for lying about having a doctorate. As a result of these actions the issue simply died. Yes he will have lost a great deal as a result of his lies but he will have regained his soul through one simple act of humility and contrition.
The obvious implication of the sincere apology is that we are admitting that we were wrong and that we need to fix things. But the danger in not apologising is that we prevent this healing power of forgiveness from taking effect. Nkandla is a great example of this; without an admission of guilt, a sincere apology and a commitment to repay the money from the President the issue will never go away and the damage to him personally and politically will become incrementally worse with every day that passes. Having decided on his current path of inaction he must understand that the unapologetic leader will remain on the side of their power and that that power will dwindle and ultimately die.
On the flipside of this the power inherent in seeking forgiveness is immeasurable; parents asking children to forgive them and vice versa; mines or oil companies sincerely apologising for an environmental disaster; banks saying sorry when clients are defrauded of money. The sincere, personal apology; not one sent through the post, printed on a sign at the door or worse still, expressed by a spokesperson, has the power to change hearts and minds when accompanied by remedial actions.
Finally, I do not wish to imply that any of this is straightforward; human relationships are complex and often fraught with pain. But what I do know is this; if we can just take one small step towards apology and forgiveness this Christmas then we will be slightly closer to experiencing the peace, joy and goodwill that the season promises.
This column is dedicated to the memory of 17 year old Anene Booysens: gang raped, mutilated and murdered.
