Sona, like the Roman games, is a spectacle

Despite his Italian designer threads, Panyaza Lesufi is a man of the people. This week, the Gauteng premier responded with empathy to Johannesburg’s ripe-smelling residents, many of whom have gone nearly a month without water. He feels their plight, he says, but scorns their passivity. They should simply do what he does: book into a hotel and scrub up in the en-suite.

This comes hard on the heels of another masterclass in reframing necessity as preference, conducted by Nomantu Nkomo-Ralehoko, the MEC who heads Gauteng’s health and wellness portfolio.

She poured scorn on critics of the overcrowding and bed shortages that compel many hospital patients to sleep on the floor. She insisted that this was a “false narrative” pushed by malicious journalists. Many patients, she claimed, simply prefer dossing on the ground.

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Nkomo-Ralehoko told the Sunday Times: “The patients will say: ‘Leave me. I want to sleep on the floor’.” Even if the ANC can’t reliably replicate the ingenuity of ancient Rome – running water, sewage reticulation, raised beds with mattresses – it does understand Rome’s dark arts.

It has learned how to manage the public’s lowered expectations through distraction. The satirist, Juvenal, writing nearly 2 000 years ago, foretold Rome’s imperial decay in verses that savaged the decadence and vice of the ruling class.

He described how Roman citizens had traded political power for the “bread and circuses” dispensed by the emperor: welfare handouts to fill their bellies and grotesque spectacles in the arena to occupy their passions. All while the nobility showered and debauched in Rome’s bathhouses, the ancient version of Lesufi’s hotels.

In an ANC-led SA, the “bread” part of Juvenal’s bargain is easy to spot. Having failed to prepare our people to thrive in modern society, we have instead had to fall back on the politics of dependency. A shrinking pool of taxpayers underwrites an ever-expanding welfare state.

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The “circuses” are more sophisticated. They exist not only to sidetrack but, as with the gladiatorial contests of ancient Rome, also to demonstrate fealty, in this case, the Emperor Cyril Ramaphosa and his court.

Take the mass pile-ons by the government on individuals and civic organisations who dare deviate from the ANC-curated version of what is happening in South Africa. There is also the more formalised ANC theatre. Some shows are party occasions dressed up as national milestones.

Others are part of the constitutional pageant – the budget and the State of the Nation Address (Sona) – but are slickly exploited by the ANC. Ramaphosa begins by acknowledging that the nation faces serious problems.

The inventory is the same every year: unemployment, crime, corruption, collapsing services and gender-based violence.

He traces the origin of these plagues to historical factors that absolve his administration of responsibility – the favourites are apartheid and his predecessor, Jacob Zuma.

He announces impressive intentions to address the problems. These often involve “war rooms” and “emergency deployments”. He then exaggerates his administration’s achievements. Finally, Ramaphosa offers hope and defiance. There are “green shoots”, the “corner has been turned”. “We will not be bullied.”

Sona, like the Roman games, is a spectacle. It’s a ritual to dilute passions, stave off the mob’s discontent and buy Emperor Ramaphosa time. Over three centuries passed between Juvenal’s warnings and Rome’s collapse. Cyril only needs to squeeze out three more.