The morning after riot police stormed the National Assembly
to forcibly remove a recalcitrant EFF MP, I joked on twitter that I was considering
wearing a flak jacket and takkies to work.
The unprecedented display of force has sent shockwaves
through parliament and the country, with threats by the opposition to seek
recourse in the courts.
After 10pm on Thursday, members of the Public Order
Policing unit - wearing protective gear from head to toe - pushed and shoved
opposition MPs in the house. The MPs,
who had endured a marathon sitting since 2pm, had intervened as police tried
to remove the EFF’s Reneilwe Mashabele, who, dressed in a domestic worker
uniform, insisted that President Jacob Zuma was a thief. As parliament descended into chaos, the live parliamentary
TV feed was cut.
The warning signs
were in fact evident earlier that day, with Public Order Policing unit vans
lined up on the precinct outside.
There must be a degree of sympathy for presiding officers who
have been battling acts of extreme rudeness lately - all of it triggered by the
#paybackthemoney Nkandla saga. But as a reason to haul in the riot squad, it is
a shocking disgrace and unbelievably paranoid.
A visual timeline of the drama as it unfolded, Die Burger |
It makes it harder now to laugh off DA parliamentary leader
Mmusi Maimane’s warning earlier this week – before pandemonium broke out - that
there were “rumbling plans to militarise our parliamentary precinct”.
The cracks in South Africa’s hard-fought democratic parliament have
been creeping up - insidiously – in the 5th parliament.
There was the incident of August 21 – when police also moved
on to parliament. After a tense stand-off, they withdrew from using force to
remove protesting EFF MPs. Again, the
media were ordered to leave (many refused) and the TV feed was cut.
In the National Council of Provinces a few weeks ago, I was among
a number of journalists refused re-entry to the upstairs press gallery while
President Jacob Zuma was delivering his 50-minute speech on 20 years of
democracy. I was confronted not by parliamentary security, but, it is believed,
a member of the Presidential Protection Unit who had taken it upon himself to
rule over the house.
Although it was reassuring that parliament issued an
unreserved apology and an undertaking to investigate as journalists always have
free access to enter and exit the gallery, it was chilling to witness parliamentary officials, whom I had called on
to assist, being brusquely over-ruled by the bully-boy security official.
There are other worrying tendencies. The increasing secrecy
and attempts at blocking journalists from accessing reports emanating from
portfolio committees – the Nkandla ad hoc committee (of course) a case in
point. Parliamentary security has tightened, signing-in bureaucracy has been increased,
and more police officers have been deployed to parliament.
There are also some trivial incidents. This week, a reporter
who has covered parliament for four years was ordered to not drink water – from
a parliament-labelled bottle nogal - while sitting in the press gallery
upstairs. Minutes later, her colleague was also given an order - to not stand
in the gallery (even though he was in nobody’s way).
When I moved into media offices at the parliamentary
precinct in May, I walked through the entrance of parliament thinking what a
privilege it was to be based at such a deeply-loved institution that has been
the symbol of the country’s liberation and democratic principles.
I didn’t feel quite the same way when I walked through the
gate on Friday morning.
* A version of this article first appeared in City Press and Rapport on 16 November 2014
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Mandela would be appalled. He wanted his legacy to peace and justice. Yet some MPs act like Stormtroopers or Broederbond thugas
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