Pravin Gordhan: The quiet strategist, organiser, doer and activist

Shiela Sisulu, Mac Maharaj, Derek Hanekom, Preyesha Gordhan, Trevor Manuel and Mcebisi Jonas at a media briefing held at the Nelson Mandela Foundation on the passing of Pravin Gordhan, on 13 September 2024.(Photo: Felix Dlangamandla)

By Yunus Carrim

13 Sep 2024

It’s highly ironic that a brilliant strategist, excellent organiser, and never-say-die activist like Pravin Gordhan should, towards the end of his life, become associated with Eskom’s load shedding, Transnet’s failures and SAA’s decline.

And that somebody so irrevocably honest can even be accused of corruption, including within the ranks of the ANC-led movement. That a pragmatic Marxist with a keen sense of tactics could be so vilified as a willing stooge of white monopoly capital.

These ironies, in their own ways, are a small reflection of the decay of our post-1994 transition. And how some genuine patriots become victims of it, and some corrupt activists its beneficiaries.

Ultimately, it’s not just about remembering them as individuals. It’s about remembering the liberation movement that also made them, that gave them the space to emerge as leaders and fulfil their potential.

Born on 12 April 1949 in Durban, Gordhan became active in politics in the late 1960. And he’s been around ever since — impacting student politics, the Natal Indian Congress (NIC), the civic movement, United Democratic Front (UDF), the ANC and SACP underground, the post-1990 negotiations for our democracy, the shaping of our final Constitution, Parliament, Cabinet, the SACP Central Committee and the ANC NEC, among other areas.

He graduated as a pharmacist in 1973, but was fired from King Edward VIII Hospital in 1981 because of his political activities.

He was among the younger comrades who pushed the NIC, revived in 1971, into a more activist direction. But he quickly recognised that to reach the conservative Indian and “coloured” communities, it would be better to organise them around “bread and butter” issues — such as housing, rents, water, electricity and rates — and strengthen residents associations or form new ones to do this. So came the Durban Housing Action Committee, with its mass campaigns on municipal issues, through which the need for democratically elected councillors in a non-racial democracy was raised. So, political consciousness through action on basic needs in a particular way in conservative communities.

He was a key organiser of the 1984 anti-tricameral Parliament campaign in then Natal. And was among those who pushed for the formation of the UDF.

Despite his overt public role, Gordhan also became part of the ANC’s underground, including Operation Vula, led by Mac Maharaj and Siphiwe Nyanda.

Inevitably, he was detained several times, briefly banned and at times on the run from the police. But his pharmacy remained a hub of political activity.

He ended up on the steering committee of the Convention for a Democratic South Africa (Codesa) in 1991, and in 1993 on the panel of chairpersons of the planning committee of the multi-party negotiation process.

As a key civic activist in the eighties, interestingly, he came to play a major role in shaping the new model of local government, and as a key activist in Codesa he later oversaw Constitutional amendments through chairing the parliamentary portfolio committee dealing with these issues.

Asked by a journalist, when he was appointed SARS Commissioner in 1998, how a pharmacist with no previous SARS experience would be able to manage such a complex role, I almost subconsciously replied: “Pravin always gets things done. He knows nothing about fencing — but make him manager of the national fencing team and we’ll soon be winning the world championships.”

His conversion of SARS into a world-class organisation, with the introduction of e-filing of tax returns, is now legendary. And it was hardly surprising that he became chair of the World Customs Organisation from 2000 to 2006.

Daughter Preyesha Gordhan reads a letter written by her father at a media briefing held at the Nelson Mandela Foundation on the passing of Pravin Gordhan, on 13 September 2024. (Photo: Felix Dlangamandla)

‘Stood firmly’ against State Capture

Together with Deputy Minister Mcebisi Jonas, National Treasury Director General Lungisa Fuzile, Deputy Director General Ismail Momoniat and others, he stood firmly against State Capture and became one of the key public voices against it.

He and others, including senior SARS officials, were the subject of a vicious smear campaign accused of being corrupt and involved in illegal intelligence activities through a so-called “rogue intelligence unit”.

These attacks came from various sources, and the ANC parliamentary structures, including the finance committee that I chaired, were severely divided on how to respond. And in terms of legal advice and house chair decisions on which committee could do what in terms of Parliamentary rules, and how openly, since there were intelligence matters at stake.

In that time of smoke and mirrors, with allegations and counter-allegations swirling, the committees were mostly hamstrung. But more was done in the committees and through various other channels, even if not enough, than is made out in glib and simplistic media reports.

The Nugent and State Capture Commissions cleared those accused of wrongdoing and SARS apologised to them. Too late though. The damage was done. Pravin came out of it more unscathed than the others.

Read more: Pravin Gordhan: on mind maps and greasy cheese-and-tomato toasted sandwiches

In the 1980s Pravin was accused of being a key part of a cabal of Indian activists who dominated the UDF and eclipsed its African leaders. This writer, serving on the NIC executive elected in 1987 with him and others, wrote about this in a paper published in Work in Progress (No 52, 1988) and elsewhere with the consent of the majority in the NIC executive to foster discussion. While parts of that paper about the allegations of a cabal were correct, it also reflected a lack of information and some misunderstanding.

On the sidelines of a meeting between the ANC and the Indian Congresses in Lusaka in 1988 and after 1990, it became clearer that the cabal included members of an SACP underground structure, some in the ANC underground and others. It was a more complex group and not as cohesive as was made out. And it was partly an outcome of the difficult semi-underground context of the mass struggles of the time. This is not to say it didn’t exercise undue influence on the politics of Natal and had some negative consequences.

But this writer, and the majority in the NIC executive, had a limited understanding of the cabal at the time. And compared to the factions that have driven our movement since 1994, the allegations of an NIC cabal pale into insignificance.

The term “cabal” continued to be thrown as a swear word at Pravin every now and then after 1994. These attacks, mostly from people involved in some form of corruption, and others who disagreed with him for other reasons, also had a racial sub-text – that Indian activists, like Pravin, Momoniat and former Reserve Bank Deputy Governor Kuben Naidoo were running the government behind the scenes. Utterly absurd, even laughable – but in these times of fake news shaping politics the way it does, it had traction in certain circles.

Pravin seemed a good choice for Minister of Public Enterprise, but for once he didn’t fare as expected. Of course, there were formidable obstacles, not least from those within the ANC movement whose material and other personal interests were threatened. He didn’t get the support necessary to overcome the challenges, but he also made poor decisions. Some of his assessments of what was possible with the sinking SOEs were quite questionable, but he wasn’t some crude agent of capital who’d bought into privatisation. He hadn’t abandoned his socialist roots, and when challenged privately that certainly came to the fore.

Attacks were ‘unfair’

Being the doer he was, impatient for results and lacking in enough confidence in most of the people he worked with, even some he appointed, he tended to want to micro-manage SOEs. However, the attacks on him were extreme and unfair. And some of the improvements in some SOEs in recent months are partly due to some of the positions he took earlier.

Read more: Farewell to a brother, patriot and fierce fighter — we are all the poorer for the journey ahead

I first saw Pravin at an NIC Conference in Durban in the early seventies. I was in school and there as an observer, not fully following the proceedings. But in August 1976, the University of Durban Westville students boycotted classes in solidarity with the Soweto students uprising. We wanted to widen the campaign and I was asked to seek his help. In his typical fashion, he quickly made a few sensible practical proposals and said he would come back to us the next day with progress. But three of us identified as the ringleaders were arrested early the next morning, and shunted off to Modderbee prison in Benoni for five months. The student boycott continued for a few days but petered out.

Cut to the chase

Pravin’s great strength was his ability to cut to the chase of issues. He would listen to a variety of complex arguments, reduce them to their essence, look for areas of consensus and, crucially, make concrete proposals for action. At times, he would very skilfully steer a discussion in a particular way forward that he thought was best that few, if any, of those with differing views would discern was not really a reflection of a consensus. But at least he got things moving. And he showed this too in the way he chaired meetings during the pre-1994 negotiations process.

He had this ability to say a lot with a few words. He would speak in a very direct, clear, uncluttered way, with not a wasted word. If only more of us were like that…

Having been out of mainstream politics and playing a more bureaucratic role for the 11 years he served as SARS Commissioner, he had changed in some ways. He was not as attuned to the internal politics and dynamics of the ANC as he used to be and sometimes came across more as a technocrat than a politician. Especially to those who hadn’t worked politically with him before. I raised with him once or twice the need to bring out more of his political activist orientation in the new context. He seemed to agree. But I couldn’t see any change, if there was any.

Demanding of others, himself

Pravin was not much of a socialiser, which didn’t help in his later political roles. To get agreement on certain policies and approaches in the post-1994 political arena, you had to also be able to connect socially with your comrades, not just rely on the merits of your case. Pravin could be distant, aloof, not part of the political pack, as it were. Like many workaholics, he could be abrasive, arrogant, demanding. But he was demanding even more of himself and would push himself to the limits.

And he wouldn’t easily be pushed around by others. When former President Jacob Zuma fired him as minister of finance on spurious grounds, and he was painted as being unpatriotic in the smear campaign that followed, he dug his heels in and fought back doggedly. Few in his position would have done that. And whatever criticisms people might have of him, the country owes him for that. As it does to other brave souls who fought back.

Pravin is gone now, sadly. Others of his generation have too. As will others in the near future. In these times of the inordinate power of fake news on social media and elsewhere to shape political events and endlessly re-write history to suit the narrow self-interests of certain people, and even undermine a country’s political heritage, we need to say more about activists who’ve genuinely served the people, without painting them as saints. And in doing so, among other ways, reclaim our country’s history. Pravin is one among those who needs to be so remembered. There are many others too.

Ultimately, it’s not just about remembering them as individuals. It’s about remembering the liberation movement that also made them, that gave them the space to emerge as leaders and fulfil their potential. It’s about what the movement was. And frayed and lost as it is now, it still has the potential to and needs to be, in new forms, in these difficult new times.

Hamba Kahle, Comrade Pravin! DM

Yunus Carrim is an SACP Politburo and Central Committee member and ANC veteran and an MP from 1994 until the May elections. He served as Minister of Communications from 2013–2014.

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Business Maverick

‘Stood firmly’ against State Capture

Attacks were ‘unfair’

Cut to the chase

Demanding of others, himself