PENS FOR THE MEMORY

Naively we colonialists  believed that Commissions, Inquiries, Investigations describe actual processes happening in our country that would identify and expose the bad guys and girls who have all but destroyed the things that we imagined help to made life bearable for the largest number of citizens. How badly we have been let down. Not only is there still not been a single high-profile arrest, let alone conviction, but this week it emerged that public release of all the proceedings cannot be taken for granted. It seems as if we have been treated to nothing very different from theatre. No one with the final decision-making powers (a perilously small number it turns out, which does not include the President) can see any value in revealing the truth.

One of the hardest things to understand and accept as one’s country goes full on communist and central planning is the apparent sheer ignorance and stupidity of the alleged leaders Now at last when it looks as if SAA will hit the wall and be declared insolvent and offered for sale there are still voices claiming that it will all be alright just as soon as someone comes up with R2bn. The stubborn insistence that everything government has decided upon, overrides simple observation, arithmetic and evidence is utterly infuriating and so frustrating. What adds to the irritation is the very many cadres who do understand the facts, the maths, and the reality, seem to be under a vow of silence least their erudition shows up the rest for the clowns they are.

Equally terrifying are those who are in charge of other people’s money who think that hopelessly insolvent basket cases are worth investing in either because the CEO is a fine chap who loves kittens or because an outfit like a ratings agency with nothing to lose except their credibility (joke) has tipped the wink at the investment idea. Tidemarks never wearies of repeating the probability that more “investment grade” instruments have gone belly up than paper with “junk status” have clawed its way back to respectability. Like SA did in the seventies.

Intriguingly much of the latest global nonsense has been playing out in the Swiss enclave of Davos where each year the twin themes of global warming and poverty elimination are debated against a background of snowy piestes and conspicuous luxury. Irony and embarrassment are not strong suits among those who attend such jamborees. Much excitement was caused by the expectation that President Donald Trump would meet Greta Thunberg, the almost canonised 17-year old school drop out with very firm views on who should do what so she can live longer. She did however get to pump the hand of Prince Charles and the resulting video suggests that neither had the faintest idea who the other person was and why they should be friends with them. Priceless.

It was quite amazing watching an alleged grown up who holds a very senior position in the US government, using a large batch of pens in sequence to sign something to do with booting President Trump out of office before his time officially is up. Like a kid who excitedly constructs a poster using different coloured pens for successive letters, Ms Pelosi scrabbled trough a collection of pens on a silver salver in order to complete her signature. It is supposed that the document and by association the pens used to sign it will attain massive historical value and significance in due course. She obviously thinks that the Smithsonian Museum will apply for a pen to add to their collection of bizarre relics. Here in SA what we need is an exhibit that depicts the halving, twice, of the value of our currency in the past twenty odd years.

Those of us who have treated the rapid rise of a women’s section for major sports on an international platform with bemusement are about the get a fierce wake up call in the next two tournaments (men /women)  of international Sevens rugby to be played down under. In order to have enough time for all the rugby the men’s quarter final round has been scrapped! Only the pool winners get to move to the next round which are the semis. Take that!

James Greener

Friday 24^th January 2020

“DID YOU GOT A LICENCE?”

The rather underwhelming news that the Reserve Bank brains-trust dropped the price of money by 25 basis points to 6.25%pa on Thursday is causing less excitement than the very unusual sight of organisations retrenching employees in a desperate attempt to keep their businesses afloat. Normally the decision to fire staff is a very delicate process with endless consultative meetings and hand waving plus of course picketing as the reality impinges on the poor souls now jobless. For many borrowers exposed to the most deadly and expensive forms of debt the actual interest rates they experience are three times higher that this very theoretical level. Frankly this decision is not going to float many boats. The economic growth rate is in the grip of far stronger influences.

The supporters of the proposed new state health system are really missing a huge propaganda opportunity by letting ex-president JZ swan off overseas for treatment. Imagine what a coup for their initiative it would be if they could persuade him to attend the nearest hospital to his home in Nkandla. After all it should be pretty much riskless for JZ as the rumour is that actually there is little wrong with him other than a reluctance to appear before the Zondo Commission Inquiry into state capture. All he is looking for really is a rolling sick-note.

One thing that a developed state should be able to do swiftly and seamlessly is provide those services which it demands that citizens make use of. Like obtaining documentation such as passports, driver’s licences, identity documents and other certificates (both abridged and unabridged (?!)) from the Hatched, Matched and Despatched departments. No gathering of friends these days is complete without a horror story of delays, inefficiency and errors on the part of the civil servants tasked with providing these things. This week the very old allegation that the nation owns just one machine that can produce the laminated driver’s licence, surfaced again. In fact, the officials responsible for keeping this precious device in working order cheerfully admit to a backlog of more than 120 000 licence cards country wide. Can anyone else think how to unblock this bottle neck? And now it turns out that citizens who live overseas and require a passport are being made to wait almost a year for this vital document. Reportedly the problem may be transport between Pretoria and overseas diplomatic missions. What? Is the daily diplomatic pouch a myth?

At the start of every year, one forgets just how many tedious events take place where hordes of  tax eaters flock together to take  part in jollifications, mostly at our expense. Early on the is the Festival of the Large and Gaudy Cake, otherwise known as the ANC’s birthday party. The similarity with the legendary recommendation by Marie Antoinette that the peasants should eat cake gets more poignant each year. Then it’s the dance of the SA themed neck scarves in Davos, but without the cheerful Tchaikovsky score. Followed by the State of the Nation Address (SONA) where the President fails to use the one appropriate word – Dire. Culminating in the National Budget Speech, where increasingly, arithmetic is wrung by the neck to produce numbers that blush when confronted with the truth.

Something has gone seriously awry with tax collections. For the first time eve,r the rolling 12-month shortfall of tax revenue compared to the treasury’s distributions to provinces and ministries has breached R300bn. A popular claim is that the tax-paying class have left the country in significant numbers, while the count of people on the civil service payroll and the state hand-out list doesn’t stop growing. In principal these should be easy facts to verify but official indifference to such matters means that we sceptics have rich pickings. Among our number we now find Finance Minister Tito Mbowei whose forthright views are alarming trade unionists and similar lobby groups.

It’s hard to be excited about the Super Hero Sunday start to the local rugby season with temperatures nudging north of 30 degrees consistently. When ever it does kick off thought it’s going to be hard to rekindle the Word Cup excitement and summon the strength to deal with the nationalisation nonsense.

James Greener

Friday 15^th January 2020

YOU CAN SEE THE THINKING. FIRST THE DOCTORS NOW THE SPORTS MEN.

It was last year that Tidemarks became aware of the existence of the National School of government responsible for “learning and development programmes in a uniform public service with the objective of developing a professional, responsive and capable public sector, driven by the imperative of a developmental state”. What ever this might mean and even if the minister of sports, Nathi Mthethwa is not an alumnus he is surely a shoo-in for that School’s award for the top political policy in 2019 with his program to nationalise sport and recreation. This asinine idea ticks all the boxes of excruciatingly stupid government interference. It will assuredly cost far more than anyone estimates. It gladdens the heart of old Marxists who still firmly believe that if you annoy the white people enough they will all leave the country and forget to close their bank accounts It inserts layers of bureaucracy between every participant, spectator, sponsor to the certain detriment of everyone. It makes every sporting professional a state employee (earning the same amount?) It will finally enable the abolition of the Springbok emblem. And wont that make the country pleased? Err. NO!

Reportedly the draft regulation which has been published, drones on about the powers of a minister to make everything better. Without actually defining “better”. Do we really need Nathi and his spooks poking about in the bar at the bowling club checking that the honours boards give equal space to the permanently offended? Since there is really not much kudos to be gained by hanging about for a photo op at the medal ceremony of the eastern Free State Winter Jukskei tournament, his motivation must be money. But the driver behind advertising and sponsporship deals are tax benefits. And so it’s rather hard to picture the system where a bank (for example) pays the costs of a team owned by the state.

The questions roll on and on

In the national budget, Sports is lumped together with the equally small Arts and Culture department. The budgeted employment cost for these civil servants this fiscal year is R7.6bn. This includes an amount of R3.5bn for goods and services (think: drink, food, feather beds and flights). For this amount the nation sleeps easily knowing that someone from the ministry is always there to ensure that we sing from the same page and play the right games with the correct teams.  In striking contrast, the amount available for distributing to and supporting their clients (the citizens actually doing stuff) is exactly half of what the bureaucrats are costing. Already the signs are clear about who does best in this deal. And it isn’t the meisie from Mamelodi eager to pit herself against the rest of the world.

It's alarming how our lives and language so swiftly and easily absorb words and concepts that were utterly unthinkable. Suddenly we're are getting used to the idea of an electricity distribution “war room” where wise men make informed and capable decisions about who should return to the stone age and for how long. Its worth reminding everyone that Eskom is managed by people most of whom who don’t know the difference between WhatsApp and Watt Amps. Remember the Chairman explaining how a conveyor belt worked? And yet there’s a tired resignation. Eskom are doing their best in trying circumstances. It's not their fault that a conveyor belt has parted, coal does get wet when it rains, the contractors have obviously left us with faulty systems and how were we to know? We have a new boss now. He’ll fix it. Just as soon as he arranges his departure package. He has a meeting with Mr Molefe.

Its comforting to watch the school leaving high achievers being paraded past the press for a ministerial photo op. Those young folks know exactly the value and meaning of an improbable 9 distinctions but were happy and capable to game the system to cut a few corners. The politicos however were salivating with self-congratulation and ensured that no dared to ask what next?  Like: Do we have a quota system for the high demand university places or does ability trump race?

James Greener

Friday 10^th January 2020