South Africa’s leadership – “the lanyard class” – is dangerously disconnected from domestic realities, prioritising international engagement over pressing local concerns. And it will affect the outcome of elections, writes Tony Leon.

In December 2019, former British prime minister, Boris Johnson, used Trumpian populism when he won the election on the back of Brexit.

Though earlier this August, he was scathing in his assessment of President Donald Trump’s succumbing to the cheap flattery of deeply cynical Russian President Vladimir Putin in Alaska.

Johnson wrote of the summit:

“It is the most vomit-inducing episode in all the tawdry history of international diplomacy… It was emetic to see [Putin] applauded on the red carpet.”

Never mind the B-2 stealth bomber flyover and the shotgun ride Trump – who referred to Putin as “the boss” – afforded to the Russian in his presidential limousine.

Still, even Johnson, ardent backer of Ukraine, was moved to note that if the toe-curling spectacle achieved a solution preserving Ukrainian freedom and sovereignty, then despite the “puke-making” it might have been worth it.

Of course, no such outcome, two weeks on, is in prospect as the war – amidst heavy civilian casualties – grinds on. European leaders did, as is vogue in Washington DC, render the obligatory bow and scrape before Trump in the hopes of engaging the US president’s attention and interest in not selling, entirely, the pass on Ukraine.

But for lesser powers – further away from the conflict – what are the costs of entanglement in foreign issues removed from national interest and local concerns?

The lanyard class

Many years back, one of Johnson’s Conservative predecessors, Harold Macmillan, answered the question on “are there any votes in foreign affairs?”.

He noted that while foreign policy was important, elections were rarely won or lost on foreign policy, “but on domestic issues like housing, employment and living standards”.

You might have wrongly concluded that South Africa and its leadership would have its bandwidth full on pressing domestic concerns which engulf the nation, a laundry list of “polycrises”.

For example, if you live in the Cape Flats where in just a week “a surge of gun violence left at least 26 people dead”. Not even an MP’s badge exempts law makers from the scourge of violence as three DA MPs discovered on a visit to Philippi, another Cape crime hotspot. Their vehicle was attacked and ambushed.

We have a police top command in disarray and a security service serially compromised by infighting, allegations of criminal entryism at the highest level. An unmanned leadership in state security and an enfeebled defence force which is barely functional.

Yet with all this domestic dysfunction, President Cyril Ramaphosa jets off to Japan, takes calls on how to resolve Ukraine, and vast amounts of state energy and attention is expended on hosting the G20 meeting in November.

Of course, as a Johannesburg friend cynically remarked, “at least if you live or work on the route to the G20 November summit, the gaping potholes will be repaired, and the robots might be brought back to life”.

The Spectator magazine recently highlighted the rise of what is termed “the lanyard class”. Defined as “the rules-obsessed professional cadres more concerned with symbolic gestures than with solving real issues”.

Floating from summits to conferences might give the appearance of work and effort, but it simply removes participants ever further from the daily realities confronting voters.

The further the disconnect, the more the vote shedding – as recent polls portend for the ANC.

Beyond the enjoyment of foreign forays or the flattery of international attention, there is another explanation of why countries’ leaders expend so much time and effort on events so far removed from citizens’ needs and voters’ attention.

American commentator Walter Lippmann, in his 1922 book Public Opinion, wrote:

All but the most exceptional leaders prefer policies in which the costs are as far as possible indirect.

Leaders have a far freer hand in foreign affairs, for example, he reasoned, because the “results are hidden and remote from the place where the action takes place”.

Most South Africans, for example, will be hard pressed to find Western Sahara on a map, yet enormous energy is consumed in a row over Jacob Zuma using a South African flag to bolster the Moroccan cause, in a conflict which goes back 50 years.

The horror scenes from Gaza are on every TV screen right now, but South Africa’s ability to influence events there, beyond expressions of outrage, ranges from small to non-existent.

But what happens domestically, when the cost of foreign forays blows back on local interests? Then, contra Lippmann, the results are neither “hidden nor remote”.

Misaligned national interests

Cue here the long neglect of establishing ties which bind this country’s economic interests with its key investor partners.

Dancing at every wedding, or in our case, flirting with Iran but hoping to maintain our preferential trade treatment with its arch nemesis the US, is one case (of several) in point.

MTN – the SA telecommunications giant – is enmeshed in litigation and a US grand jury probe concerning its operations, and how they were obtained. Particularly, in two countries inimical to US interests: Iran and Afghanistan.

Its non-executive independent chair, Mcebisi Jonas, also happens to be the presidential envoy to the US, though he is barred from visiting Washington.

Over the weekend, Jonas lashed out against unnamed “agents provocateurs” whom he advised are engaged in “a concerted campaign to discredit SA and render the country a pariah on the world stage”.

The patriotism card is always a handy alibi, and wrapping yourself in the country flag traditionally renders some domestic dividend.

But as Jonas will know as more foreign companies quit or downscale in South Africa, no amount of hot rhetoric will offset the cold reality of unemployment.

After 78 years of manufacturing presence in Uitenhage (now Kariega), US giant Goodyear has upped sticks and closed its tyre factory. Direct jobs of 900 will be lost, and many more up and down stream will be jeopardised. BusinessTech stated in June that the provinces of the Eastern Cape and Mpumalanga “are on the verge of joining the North West in having more people unemployed than working”.

With National Treasury stumping up R485 million for the National Dialogue, the “lanyard class”, rather than the non-working class, is ascendant.

I recently visited the French-Canadian province of Quebec. What was so striking in this one-time stronghold of separatism was the sight of many Maple-leaf Canadian national flags.

This exceptionalism to a long history of alienation from the rest of Canada was borne out in the May election there. The Bloc Quebecois, which stands for Quebecoise independence, and dominates local politics, lost seats to the Liberals of Prime Minister Mark Carney (who struggles to speak French). Carney ran his campaign on defending his country against the designs of Trump.

It was Trump’s tariffs, disparagement of Canadian sovereignty and even his musing about annexing Canada which both revived the Liberals and united the country, even in Quebec. “There’s nothing like a common enemy to make a country come together,” a local commentator noted.

But Canada has near full (94%) employment and is a rich middle-class country. It also borders the US while SA is over 15 000km away from both.

Back at home, where opinion on Trump is far more muted and concerns are more focused on survival or simply staying in a job which might vanish soon enough (or has long since disappeared), the stakes are different. And so is the likely next election outcome.

Conferences and summits are one distraction, and foreign policy misaligned to domestic interests is another.

Those on the home front might channel the old political wisdom: “Remember, all politics is local.” Even if it was said by an American.