South Africa’s military meltdown

On the face of it, life continues as normal, but behind the scenes the South African military has been cut to the point where it's doubtful it will be able to live up to its African responsibilities.

The South African military – once feared across much of Africa – is today in steep decline. Its budget has been slashed; its equipment unserviced and unserviceable and its troops demoralised. In the 1980s – at the height of apartheid – the country spent four per cent of GDP on the military. Today that figure stands at around one per cent. While cuts were certainly justified, the scale of the reductions has done lasting damage to the Defence Force.

This is, of course, not the impression the Ministry of Defence provides the South African public. On the face of it, life continues as normal. A major military exercise is currently under way with the United States military.

And South African troops are being readied for deployment in the Democratic Republic of Congo, to participate in what the United Nation describes as its first-ever “offensive” combat force. This is intended to carry out targeted operations to “neutralise and disarm” the notorious M23 rebels currently operating around the eastern town of Goma, as the United Nations press release put it.

This must have come as news to the South African military, since they were soon denying (pdf) any intention of fighting the Rwandan backed rebels. “We (SANDF) have consistently indicated that we have not engaged any rebel force in the in the eastern DRC and we repeat that that remains the case,” a press statement from the Ministry of Defence declared on 16 July. Since bringing a semblance of stability to the Goma area was the reason the force was created and this would inevitably mean fighting the M23, it is not clear what element of the plan the South Africans failed to grasp.

Leaving this confusion aside, there are real questions about the South African military’s ability to go on mounting such operations. The past few months have seen a series of setbacks.

  • Earlier this month it was revealed that the Air Force has no maintenance contract for the 26 Grippen fighter jets, ordered at great cost in 1999. Without maintenance they aircraft are almost useless.
     
  • None of the Air Force’s Agusta light utility helicopters are flying any more, because there are no funds for the exercises.
     
  • One of South Africa’s submarines – the SAS Queen Modjadji - had its outer hull damaged after hitting the seabed. This led to questions in Parliament, with calls for those responsible to be disciplined, and complaints that the accident “speaks of negligence and poor training.”
     
  • The main naval shipyard, at Simonstown, is running at less than a third of the capacity required to service the fleet, and is – according to the Chief of the Navy, Vice Admiral Refiloe Mudimu -  unable to recruit the skilled staff it requires.
     

These issues come after years of grumbling from pilots, who said they lacked fuel and ammunition for routine exercises, and left for Australia, New Zealand and other destinations in droves. Only six trained Grippen pilots were said to remain earlier this year, eking out 150 hours flying time over the whole year.

The opposition Democratic Alliance has called for a crisis meeting on the subject – pointing out that while funding is not available for essentials, the Air Force has been required to provide R50m (£3.4m) to fly government VIPS around the country and on foreign jaunts. “The South African Air Force are in danger of being reduced to an airborne taxi service for VIPs," said DA defence spokesman, David Maynier.

According to Helmoed Heitmann, South African correspondent of Jane’s Defence Weekly, there is another critical issue, which no-one dares mention: the military is badly over-manned. “They need to kick out around 20,000 people,” Heitmann told the New Statesman. “But the authorities know if they do this, they will put men on the streets who have access to guns and an ability to use them. They would only end up filling the jails.” As a result the 88,000 strong military can’t be slimmed down, in line with its reduced budget. 

Heitmann believes the R40bn funding (1.1 per cent of GDP) would need to be doubled to provide South Africa with a force that can really meet the defence needs of the country.

“At present the Defence Force can provide border protection, one African peacekeeping operation and can either patrol South Africa’s own waters or fight piracy in the Mozambique channel – but not both,” says Heitmann.

Hanging over the debate is the perennial question of the corruption in the $4.8bn 1999 Arms Deal. This is a ghost that refuses to depart. Last month there were fresh revelations that the former chairman of Parliament’s Joint Standing Committee on Defence, Tony Yengeni, signed a R6mn kickback deal with a German company providing frigates for South Africa. Yengeni refused to confirm or deny the allegation. He told the Mail & Guardian newspaper “I’ve got nothing to say on all you’re saying”.

A Commission of Inquiry into the Arms Deal was announced in 2011. It has yet to begin hearing witnesses. Commission critics say they have lost faith in its investigation, since they are being denied the right to cross-question witnesses. This is only the latest criticism of the Commission, which was previously accused of failing in its duty, for claiming that there is no evidence implicating the ANC in Arms Deal corruption.

While all this is serious, the real calamity is that South Africa  - one of the few democracies on the continent that had an effective military - is so limited in its ability to live up to its African responsibilities. Sending troops to the Democratic Republic of Congo is fine, but what about Mali, Somalia, the Central African Republic and the other conflicts that need to be addressed? As long as Pretoria starves its armed forces of the necessary funds, these needs will go unanswered, or the African Union will have to turn to the United States, France or Britain to pull its irons out of the fire. 

An honour guard lines up for the arrival of the US President at the Union Building in Pretoria, South Africa in June 2013. Photo: Getty

Martin Plaut is a fellow at the Institute of Commonwealth Studies, University of London. With Paul Holden, he is the author of Who Rules South Africa?

Getty
Show Hide image

The case against TTIP

Let’s not weep for a US trade deal.

It was the sentence, we were assured, that torpedoed the referendum debate. Asked about Britain’s chances of securing a unilateral trade deal with the United States after leaving the EU, Barack Obama declared: “The UK is going to be in the back of the queue.”

The comment was catnip to the Remain side: the Brexiters have long conjured up the image of a newly divorced Britain taking her rightful place in the “Anglosphere” without the rest of the EU dragging us down. Instead, the US president was telling us, we would be left out in the cold.

But here’s a question for you: what’s so great about a US trade deal, anyway? For the past three years, the acronym “TTIP” has been floating across my vision. I’ve always had the sense it was a Bad Thing, without ever really understanding why. So what is the Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership, and should we be against it?

My first port of call is my nerdiest friend. “The first rule of TTIP is, anyone who thinks TTIP matters is a douche,” he tells me briskly. It’s safe to say that’s very much not the opinion of Mark Dearn, a senior trade campaigner at War on Want, who gives me a quick run-through of why the agreement has attracted such widespread protests, including a march by 150,000 people in Berlin last October.

“It’s the biggest trade deal in the history of the world,” he says. “It’s negotiated in secret: all the EU currently publishes is its offers. They don’t publish the US offers and they don’t publish the consolidated text – the legally binding documents.”

Such secrecy – which is, to be fair, not unusual in delicate negotiations – does make TTIP look sinister. Very few people are allowed to see the full set of documents, and they must do so in special reading rooms, after signing a non-disclosure agreement and handing over their electronic devices.

There are two areas that particularly alarm campaigners: food and health care. Last year, Alan Beattie of the FT summarised the objections as fears that TTIP will “gut public health-care systems and force American Frankenfoods down European gullets”.

War on Want’s Mark Dearn echoes this, and suggests that removing barriers to trade – the stated aim of TTIP – will lead to Europe lowering its food hygiene and additive standards to match those of the US.

“Eighty per cent of US beef is full of growth hormones or antibiotics that are banned in the EU,” Dearn says. “Forty per cent of US grain uses banned pesticides.” The US also permits “acid washing” of meat to remove contamination. “The EU views that as a form of moral hazard; it makes you think it doesn’t matter what you do [in the factory] up to that point, because you’re killing microbes at the end.”

Many campaigners also want the NHS exempted from TTIP. They worry its provisions on “indirect expropriation” will encourage private companies to sue governments for restricting their ability to do business. That could penalise any state that nationalised a failing industry or cancelled a planned project. Or, perhaps, ran a public health service.

The National Health Action Party has warned that TTIP could deliver a “fatal blow to the NHS”. I ask the party’s campaign manager, Deborah Harrington, what changes patients will experience if TTIP is implemented. “Nothing,” she answers, to my surprise. “But people don’t notice what’s different now, because it’s all behind the NHS logo. It will take people time to realise how the private sector has reshaped the NHS. There’s no big bang.”

Finally, I call the Adam Smith Institute, the country’s best-known libertarian think tank, reasoning that if they’re for it, then I’m probably against it. The ASI’s executive director, Sam Bowman, confirms that he backs TTIP in principle, “although it’s hard trying to predict what’s in an agreement we haven’t seen”. He tells me that the picture of the US as a food hygiene Wild West is not completely accurate: American producers can’t label beef from cows fed antibiotics as organic, for example, but Europeans can. He also doesn’t find the acid-washing of meat as alarming as it sounds. “It sounds gross – basically you’re dipping a chicken in swimming- pool water – but it’s done to comply with antimicrobial laws. And in the US, people find the idea of unpasteurised cheese horrifying.”

Bowman believes that TTIP, like the European single market, will increase GDP by increasing trade. He points out that the UK parliament will get a veto on the final text, and worries that campaigners “are taking the lack of transparency as an excuse to promote a conspiracy theory – that EU governments are colluding to deregulate”. He laughs. “As a libertarian, I wish that were true.”

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism