You’d hope President Cyril Ramaphosa would take the opportunity of configuring a new cabinet to finally offer us the slimmed-down version he has long promised. More likely, with the government of national unity, is that he’ll be handing out ministries like Oprah on a magnanimous day. A ministry for you, and a ministry for you, and a ministry for you.
You can understand why that would sit well with politicians. Snagging a cabinet position comes with no end of perks — and Ramaphosa just last week bumped public office holders’ remuneration by 2.5%, backdated to April. It’s nowhere near inflation, but it still means a minister earns R2.7m a year, while a deputy clocks in at R2.2m. A bargain-basement MP gets just R1.3m.
As a point of comparison, the national minimum wage of R27.58 an hour, taken over a month, comes to just R4,400-odd. Or about 2% of a cabinet minister’s salary. Let’s hear it for economic inclusion.
Now, the salary is just the start of the ministerial fat. Where housing takes a large chunk out of the pockets of most South Africans, our ministers don’t pay for accommodation: the ministerial handbook grants them a free stay at a state house in a capital of their choice (Pretoria or Cape Town). Official residency in a second state-owned property comes with nominal rent.
And they’re not slumming it either. Last year the DA noted that the 97 mansions in question are worth a collective R967m — working out to an average R10m per home. Not bad when the rent for one of these properties was somewhere in the order of R2,000 in 2019, according to fact-checking outfit Africa Check. (The rental is now determined by the ministers of public works and finance.)
At those homes, the state takes responsibility for security, furniture and appliances, maintenance and landscaping services, domestic services, internet and computer equipment and subscription TV services. Lights and water are free to a limit of R5,000.
Then there’s the VIP protection, the two cars, valued up to R800,000 each, the VIP lounges and five-star hotels, and 20 domestic flights that ministers and their spouses are eligible for each year.
Last year, based on responses to parliamentary questions, the DA calculated that cabinet ministers cost the taxpayer about R940m a year — factoring in an average R512m on VIP protection, R387m on support staff, R10.18m on international travel, R6.23m on vehicles and R14.5m on alternative electricity, water and security. That’s not counting the other freebies.
We need politicians who combine a modicum of austerity and efficiency — not bloated, often parasitic political elites who serve us so poorly
Eyes not watering yet? You’re also on the hook for ministers who are leaving their offices. According to a Sunday Times report this weekend, the taxpayer will stump up an extra R81m in “exit gratuities” for the 143 MPs and ministers who will not be returning to office come Friday, when the new parliament sits for the first time.
According to the publication, our fearless ex-leaders are entitled to a “loss-of-office compensation” of four months’ pensionable salary for every five-year term served, based on their salary at the time of leaving office.
So, long-serving minister Naledi Pandor will walk away with about R5.2m in additional compensation for just doing her job, while deputy National Assembly speaker Lechesa Tsenoli — represented in the legislature since 1994 — will pocket R4.4m.
Oh, and for the next five years we’ll stump up for 12 air tickets each year for these 143 former politicians to flit around the country.
The problem is, we’re just not getting bang for our buck. Witness a tanking economy, rampant unemployment, poverty, inequality, infrastructural decay, logistical snafus, an education system that’s failing our children, a police service incapable of getting on top of crime, a defence force constantly left in the lurch in the field, the foot-dragging on renewable energy, the endless visa woes … the list goes on. And overlooking all of this sits the cabinet — a political class that’s utterly divorced from the travails of ordinary South Africans.
A desire that unites most voters is to have a government that gets the job done at minimal cost to the fiscus; given the moribund economy, wealth disparities and poverty in the country, we need politicians who combine a modicum of austerity and efficiency — not bloated, often parasitic political elites who serve us so poorly.
As the most significant shake-up in South African politics since 1994 takes form, the country needs public representatives whose first priority is serving the people rather than living large off the fat of the state.
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