Retreat at the cradle: Where promises go to hibernate

There’s something almost poetic — if not faintly tragic — about a government holding a “strategic retreat” at the Cradle of Humankind in Gauteng. One can imagine the symbolism was not lost on the organisers: the supposed birthplace of our species, now hosting the political descendants of Homo Opportunisticus, all gathered to decide, yet again, how to “transform” South Africa without transforming themselves.

One wonders if the fossils below were silently judging their descendants’ lack of progress. There is also the high probability that the fossils below sighed, appalled that their descendants have gathered here not to marvel at evolution, but to rehearse yet another act in the theatre of unfulfilled promises.

President Cyril Ramaphosa and his gaggle of unity partners emerged from their weekend of catered contemplation clutching a freshly minted Medium-Term Development Plan — or, as it’s likely to be remembered, the latest addition to South Africa’s ever-expanding collection of glossy, unreadable PDFs.

The plan is a document that’s ambitious enough to cover five years of governance, yet humble enough to predictably gather dust.

The plan, we are told, will chart a “transformative vision” for the next five years. Five years being, of course, the traditional life expectancy of any South African government promise before it is quietly buried beneath the rubble of committee minutes and unspent budgets. One can almost hear the sigh of history echoing from the Cradle itself.

Presidency spokesperson Vincent Magwenya delivered the usual sermon from the Book of Governance: reflection, renewal, and “key priorities” — those catch-all words that manage to sound urgent while saying absolutely nothing. The retreat, he said, allowed leaders to “reflect on progress” and “address pressing national and global challenges.” Translated from bureaucratese, this means they talked about unemployment, poverty, crime, corruption, and service delivery — in other words, the same fires they’ve been staring at for decades while politely ignoring the extinguisher.

Still, the attendees list reads like the roll call of a particularly awkward family reunion: Cyril Ramaphosa and Paul Mashatile from the ANC, John Steenhuisen from the DA, Velenkosini Hlabisa from the IFP, Gayton McKenzie from the Patriotic Alliance, Corné Mulder from the Freedom Front Plus, Bantu Holomisa from the UDM, Songezo Zibi from Rise Mzansi, Ganief Hendricks from Al Jama-ah, Mzwanele Nyhontso from the PAC, and Brett Herron from GOOD — a veritable Noah’s Ark of political egos, each convinced the floodwaters are someone else’s fault.

One imagines the group photos were an exercise in facial diplomacy, every smile stretched taut with calculation, as if grinning could mask decades of ineffectiveness.

The weekend reportedly began under a veil of secrecy, which, in government terms, usually means “someone leaked it before lunch.” The Sunday Times reported that Ramaphosa had summoned the coalition parties without telling them why, only to instruct them not to talk about it. There’s a certain circular beauty in that — a metaphor, perhaps, for how this government operates: endless meetings about meetings that should remain unmentioned, all carefully documented for committees that will never read them.

Rumours, of course, buzzed through the air like hungry mosquitoes — whispers that Ramaphosa might soon step down, and that the GNU is more G than NU…the coalition is perhaps showing more of its “Government” face than its “National Unity”

To counter the gossip, the Presidency swiftly released glossy videos of the retreat — proof, apparently, that unity is best demonstrated by a few men in shirtsleeves nodding gravely around a table while someone pours bottled water. A few well-timed smiles do wonders for appearances, even if they cannot conjure competence.

And then came the proclamations. The GNU, we’re told, is “united and strong.” Which, in political parlance, usually means it’s quietly fracturing behind the scenes. The leaders, Magwenya assured us, had “drawn lessons” from their difficulties — notably over the 2025 Budget — and would ensure “more effective consultation.” It’s unclear whether “effective consultation” means talking faster, nodding more, or simply agreeing less.

They reaffirmed their commitment to “the will of the voters” — that sentimental phrase wheeled out whenever politicians sense that the electorate’s patience might be waning. And they promised to focus on the “real issues”: jobs, crime, food, corruption, and service delivery. In other words, they are still promising to fix the very things they broke, with all the efficiency of a sugar cube trying to dam a river.

Among the retreat’s grand resolutions: a food security plan (we’ve heard that before), a skills strategy (ditto), a crackdown on organised crime (good luck with that), and — this one’s a classic — “the depoliticisation of the public service.” One almost applauds the comedic timing. Asking South Africa’s political elite to depoliticise the state is like asking a pickpocket to run a lost-and-found, or expecting a cat to water your plants.

Still, there was a glimmer of international optimism: the leaders “appreciated South Africa’s G20 presidency” — perhaps mistaking it for an economic miracle rather than a calendar appointment. And, with straight faces, they committed to “accelerate the work underway” so that its “impact can be felt by all South Africans.”

Those of us who’ve felt government impact before may wish they’d slow down instead — speed is no substitute for competence.

Finally, in a flourish of bureaucratic self-regard, they ratified something called the GNU Clearing House Mechanism — a working group designed to “address policy divergence.” Nothing captures the spirit of the modern South African state quite like inventing a committee to stop other committees from disagreeing. One almost expects it to publish a monthly newsletter praising itself.

And so, the Medium-Term Development Plan joins the pantheon of national documents that promise to turn water into wine, potholes into progress, and hope into glossy, unreadable PDFs. The skills strategy, the crime crackdown, the depoliticisation pledge — all neatly packaged reminders that words remain far more abundant than deeds.

Perhaps I’m being unfair. Maybe, just maybe, the retreat at the Cradle will indeed mark a new beginning. Perhaps, as dawn rose over Gauteng, our leaders truly glimpsed the light of accountability.

Then again, this is South Africa — where the light of accountability is usually a dim glow on the horizon, waiting politely for someone else to flick the switch.