The Challenge to Ethical Leadership in South Africa

Prof. Pedro Tabensky,
Director: Allan Gray Centre for Leadership Ethics,
Department of Philosophy,
Rhodes University.

… we determine ideals by our daily actions and decisions not only for ourselves, but largely for each other. We are all involved in this political corruption and, as members of the community, stand indicted. This is the penalty of a democracy—that we are bound to move forward or retrograde together. None of us can stand aside; our feet are mired in the same soil, and our lungs breathe the same air.

Addams, Jane, Democracy and Social Ethics, (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1902)

 

‘My people are sick. How can you live in a world where when you take your girlfriend for a walk, you are always looking behind your shoulder?’ He began to dart around the Company Gardens pathway, ducking phantom predators. ‘On the Cape Flats,’ he continued, ‘even the dogs are scared of human beings.’

 

Steinberg, Jonny, The Number: One Man’s Search for Identity in the Cape Underworld and Prison Gangs, (Jeppestown: Jonathan Ball, 2004).

 

It is uninformative to claim that one of the central problems with contemporary South Africa is that it is blighted by corruption. In all its multifaceted modes, widespread corruption is a global phenomenon that has arguably existed since the origins of social life. Many of us will cheat, and all of us will lie on a small scale, but few will take it to the next level. Indeed, multiple studies show lying is a developmental milestone related to the development in children of a theory of mind, that is, our ability to infer the mental states of others from their behaviour. These facts about ourselves may not be something to celebrate (wouldn’t it be nice, for instance, if lying were not a developmental milestone and we could develop into healthy adults without deceit)? Still, we mustn’t blind ourselves to what is the case, even if it threatens our puffed-up self-images.

            Suppose we want to say something more substantive about contemporary South African corruption than merely pointing to widespread corruption. In that case, we must consider the particular character of the corruption disfiguring the nation and its provenance. I propose that current South African corruption is informed by what economist Sandhil Mullainathan and psychologist Eldar Shafir describe as the “scarcity mindset” in their Scarcity: Why Having Too Little Means So Much (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2013). This mindset is essentially blind to the future consequences of present decisions. This is to be expected in conditions of scarcity. When stressed and overwhelmed, we tend to focus on the immediate and discount the future. The corruption blighting the nation seems to be shaped by forces such as these, destroying the grounds upon which future corruption can continue at its current pace.

            This fixation on the now to the detriment of tomorrow is concisely captured by Jacob Riis (quoted in Scarcity): “There is nothing in the prospect of a sharp, unceasing battle for the bare necessities of life to encourage looking ahead, everything to discourage the effort.” This view supports philosopher Hannah Arendt’s account, developed in On Revolution, that healthy political orders cannot be built by those driven not by a political vision but by a struggle to cater for the bare necessities of life. Those driven by necessity do not have the mental bandwidth, to borrow a term from Scarcity, to focus on change driven by a political vision. Far too many defining the contemporary political landscape in South Africa seem to have an ingrained “scarcity mindset”.

            Suppose this all-too-brief characterisation of scarcity corruption is correct. In that case, it seems that the corruption blighting democratic South Africa was (almost) unavoidable, for the majority of the population has been subject to generations of scarcity, and I should add something I will briefly touch upon below: degradation. The “scarcity mindset”, entrenched by the culture of scarcity that has shaped the mindsets of many South Africans, will tend to operate even among those who have overcome the hand-to-mouth existence characteristic of lives blighted by scarcity.  

            I do not want to be read as claiming that all or even most people living in scarcity will become corrupt. I am concerned with a tendency. Multiple examples exist of those living at the limit who are unable or unwilling to join “the caravan of corruption” to borrow postcolonial philosopher Frantz Fanon’s words. But the opportunity is sometimes there, and resisting it can be difficult, given, among other things, the low payoffs of not doing so. If, for instance, I had the power to play the system to get jobs for my unemployed relatives, it may be challenging indeed to resist the temptation not to find ways of illegitimately advantaging those I care most about. In situations of scarcity, even care far too often motivates corruption. This is indeed the twisted logic stemming from the living legacy of iniquity we seem unable to shake off.  

            Scarcity-driven corruption does not preclude other versions of corruption from colluding with scarcity corruption. Indeed, the self-destructive scarcity corruption we find in South Africa requires a vast network of prosperous and stable businesses, local and international, willing to be or compelled to become part of “the caravan”. I recall a medium-sized business owner discussing how he was torn between joining “the caravan” by offering requisite kickbacks or losing potentially lucrative government contracts that would help the business prosper or stay afloat.

            The corruption blighting South Africa is the corruption born of scarcity and its accompanying indignity (particularly in places where the powerful denigrate the powerless, as was the case during Europe’s onslaught on Africa). Some people engaged in it may appear very self-confident. But the semblance of self-confidence can be a strange beast. External mantle of assurance may conceal deep insecurities about one’s right to exist as an equal among others. Such insecurities can motivate the burning need to flaunt by procuring funds fraudulently to purchase goods deemed prestigious.  

            This is why rationalisations such as “It’s our turn to eat” can help convince some that they are claiming what is legitimately theirs rather than stealing. This rationalisation can only be effective to those whose lives have been blighted by scarcity, which is why it has had purchase in South Africa and other places where a terrible lack shapes lives.