South Africa

In the ANC Youth League you find the personification of a bunch of useful idiots. Anytime a bit of fire needs to be re-injected into the party base or a comrade has strayed from the fold and needs to be brought back in line by the grandmasters at the ANC NEC - they know who to call. One has to give credit where it’s due and acknowledge the cheerleaders and attack dogs of the League know their place and role in the ANC machinery and perform them extremely well.

 

The vicious takedown by the League of Cosatu general secretary Zwelinzima Vavi when he dared to break ranks over Zimbabwe or the salvo aimed at the NIA higher-ups when they were suspected of being in the wrong camp are illustrative of their deployment. Often the big boys (read the Prez.) may want to bring up a controversial issue or defend a status quo that may not be politically acceptable in the circumstances. This is where the band of useful idiots come in. Working themselves into a frenzy of holier than thou posturing, desensitizing the listener with their bizarre pseudo-socialist style of speaking and outright lying, these clowns definitely sing for their suppers.

 

And boy are they fed well! Screw the revolution and standing up for the poor and oppressed – these guys are getting theirs now and in obscene amounts. So while railing against the ANCWL as a bunch of hypocrites, these guys are feverishly swiping their visa platinum’s in an orgy of spending to obtain those “babe magnet” luxury sedans and visits to the local masseuse. When not shaving their heads and attending the funeral of local crony-capitalists, they can also be found singing the praises of whoever “empowers” them towards their faux revolutionary nirvana where every comrade has his turn to “knee jack” his way to the front of the gravy train.

 

Blowhards of the first order they do not see any of this as ironic, I doubt many of them even know the meaning of the word. It would be great to have a true youth focused organization but when you have a president who is in his mid-30’s one has to wonder whether he is a) in denial about his age or b) in it for the next “60th anniversary bash”.

 

But I really do believe that when the lights go out and Fikile Mbalula is lying in bed with his favourite Karl Marx novel and teddy bear (hey he still thinks of himself as a "youth"), he knows the truth. He knows he is just a front, a puppet that can have his strings cut at any time if he doesn’t play ball the way the big man wants him to. Sure of late he and some of his crew have tried to sneak out the house while Mama Thabo isn’t watching. It never lasts. When Mama says jump, Fikile and his cronies can only whimper a hoarse “how high….”

 

And thats the way it rolls...