Friends & Friction: Is the president a superstar or a fraud?

‘There is no historical precedent to put words in the mouth of a president,” sang Sting about the outcome of what would be mutually assured destruction during the Cold War between the US and the then Soviet Union in the 1980s.

As far as he was concerned, the only thing that could save the world was if “the Russians loved their children too”, because, if they dared to push the red button, the Americans would fire a return salvo.

I agree with Sting, especially about not putting words into the mouth of a president. The picture I saw on social media of President Cyril Ramaphosa during last week’s debate about his state of the nation address (Sona) – hand on his head, eyes like a boxer who hopes the referee will stop the brutal madness or that his corner will throw in the towel – was telling.

If the president was getting ready to rumble, his eyes betrayed him. His demeanour did not suggest that he was ready to float like a butterfly and sting like a bee; instead, he looked as if he longed for the decorum of the boardroom, where everyone was in awe of him.

For a man who has never known the abuse of a “baas”, what happened during and after Sona must have tortured his soul. This was supposed to be the best evening of his year.

The unkind say that the Sona circus was the rain he needed to hide the fact that he had no parade. I think the president’s eyes were telling a sad story that day. They said he has mentally resigned, and it is just a question of time before he puts pen to paper to that effect.

Boxing can be a disappointing sport. How can I forget the day I heard that Peter “Terror” Mathebula had been knocked out? It was the same disappointment I felt when I heard that Muhammad Ali had lost to Larry Holmes, and it was the same way I felt on Tuesday during the Sona debate as Julius Malema gloated in Parliament and said: “I am in charge … I’ve got the ruling party by the scrotum.”

The president’s pride was singed off like the skin of a smiley.

Corporate titans speak through clenched teeth when they say Ramaphosa is too weak to be the president because, even as a businessperson, he never built a lasting business. For example, the Molope Group and New Africa Investments Limited are no more. Neither is Johnnic.

Now the stakes are high. The presidency is the man’s last chance to redeem his legacy.

To steal from HBO boxing commentator, Larry Merchant: “We don’t know whether the man is a superstar or a fraud.”

Small business is correct to ask “what now?” as the minister of finance spends his time tweeting about his culinary skills with canned fish and the dagga trees on his farm.

What is to be done about the 17 million unemployed people who could contribute hugely to the economy if they could get jobs? More pertinently, how much further down is the bottom, and at what speed will we hit it?

As Sting suggested, the solution to the mutually assured destruction was not in better nuclear weapons, but in the hope that the Russians also loved their children. Our hope is not in better economic theories and countless committees and commissions, but in Ramaphosa proving to himself that he was not blinded by the media’s flashing cameras to the point that he didn’t realise that he had no clothes on. The boardroom will not redeem his shattering legacy.

The bad news is that many people have been working ardently and gracefully so the president can lead.

The good news is that Robert Sobukwe said we are the tools of history. If we do not fulfil our responsibilities, history will find other tools to make our country great.

Kuzwayo is the founder of Ignitive, an advertising agency

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