Cut Ramaphosa some slack, he doesn’t have many choices
The moral – and political – dilemma facing him is: at what point do you resign yourself to suffering now, in the short term, in order to lessen that grief later on?
President Cyril Ramaphosa. Twitter/@GovernmentZA
Once the hysteria from the suburban prisoners has died down a bit and once the Covid-19 deaths start spiralling (as they will inevitably do), perhaps the Ramaphosa-bashers might pause for thought.
His address to the nation on Wednesday night was deeply disappointing to many people, because it seemingly said little and came nowhere near the dream of many that the lockdown restrictions would be moved from Level 4 to Level 3.
The reality was that President Cyril Ramaphosa would have taken flak, whatever he said. And, the other sad truth is that he really doesn’t have many options in front of him.
The clamour for lifting the lockdown restrictions is growing from all sides of the spectrum – with the possible exception of the EFF politicians, who are still picking up their monthly parliamentary salaries and allowances and have settled on the sanctity of human life as their latest populist crusade.
Many are the rational arguments which can be made in favour of easing the restrictions. Foremost among them is the obvious damage that has been done to the economy, which was already in dire straits long before the arrival of the coronavirus.
Gross domestic product could plunge by 10% or more; government itself predicts a worst-case scenario of seven million unemployed and one in two South African workers being on the streets; and companies left, right and centre are either closing permanently, or have applied to retrench their employees.
A lockdown has repercussions beyond just the financial realm, though. The closure of hospitals to all but the most essential surgery has probably led to as many, if not more, than the just over 200 deaths so far due to the virus.
In addition, the diversion of medical resources away from regular immunisation campaigns, along with restricted movement and with a general increase in hunger, means young children will starve and die.
Yet, Ramaphosa will have known that, whatever the models or predictions are, SA is a long way from seeing the worst of the crisis. And when that wave of infections hits, hospitals are still going to be in danger of being swamped, even though much has been done during lockdown to increase their capacity.
The moral – and political – dilemma facing Ramaphosa was, therefore: at what point do you resign yourself to suffering now, in the short term, in order to lessen that grief later on?
That’s a decision governments around the world have had to make and, no doubt when the crisis has subsided, it will be clear who called it right and who got it badly wrong.
At the moment, no one knows for sure – notwithstanding all the expert commentary which bombards people daily.
The comforting aspect of Ramaphosa’s address was a frank acknowledgement that he and his colleagues have got things wrong. He could have asked for sympathy, but he did not, which is a good thing.
It is to be hoped that this realisation that the public’s patience is strained to breaking point – by the length of the lockdown, the arrogance and incompetence of some of his ministers and the confusing way in which the government has communicated – will hasten the process of easing the lockdown.
Anger is building and Ramaphosa and his comrades will not be able to keep a lid on it forever.
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