Global experience, from the US to Korea, shows enforcing clean government is not as easy as some may think Appreciating when our democracy works is as important as blowing the whistle when it does not. For some, the Tony Yengeni saga is an indictment of our post 1994 order.

The chief whip of the governing party is found to have taken an illegal inducement, but is elected to its national executive. Then, when he has been convicted and the speaker of Parliament initiates disciplinary action, his caucus tries to defend him.

These events are, in this view, evidence both of corruption in high places and the determination of African National Congress (ANC) politicians to look after their own.

However, there is another way of looking at Yengeni's fate, one which sees it as a plus for the system.

First and most obviously, he was tried and convicted, despite his seniority in the governing party. Indeed, the problem with the legal process may be not that an ANC politician was favoured but his co-accused was not.

This may however sound the legal reasoning prove a setback, creating a perception that those who seek to influence politicians get off while the influenced are sent to jail; worse, it could create the impression that the law still favours light-skinned people.

Equally importantly, Yengeni ceased to be chief ANC whip some time ago and has now been forced to leave Parliament by, it is reported, the president himself. Certainly, ANC secretary-general Kgalema Mothlanthe said publicly Yengeni would have to go.

In both cases, the ANC does seem to be saying that it is serious about fighting corruption. So why are such differing understandings of these events possible? The obvious answer is that it depends on where we sit those who support the new order will see a half-full glass, those who fear it, one half-empty.

However, something else may be at work which cuts across political loyalties. Behind the sceptical view lies a common assumption in our national debates that standards of public conduct should be taken for granted because it is only in deviant societies that they are not upheld. So we should not exult when a senior politician is convicted of corruption it is only normal for public figures to be punished for impropriety.

Similarly, we should not become excited when someone found guilty of a crime is removed from public office : we should see it as a sign we are meeting democracy's minimum standards.

This view is dubious on two grounds. First, it idealises politics elsewhere, including older democracies. In the US, white southern governors or black inner city mayors convicted of crimes have been re-elected by supporters who assumed the conviction was the work of the establishment who their champion fought.

In Korea, whose economic success is cited approvingly in SA on the left and right, successive heads of government who presided over the "miracle" have been jailed for corruption after they left office. So it is less normal for societies to enforce clean government than we imagine.

Second, it greatly underestimates the dangers to public morality in divided societies making an attempted journey to democracy.

We have no tradition of tough action against corruption : during the apartheid period, the toughest action against government figures accused of malfeasance was a diplomatic posting. Corruption allegations could be met by police harassment of the accuser, not action against the accused.

And, given our divisions, it might be more natural to assume politicians will insist any charge of wrong doing against someone on their side is the fruit of vindictive bias on the other side initial reaction to the Sarafina II exposés roughly took this course.

There are societies emerging from colonial pasts in which distributing favours among those closest to a public figure is seen not as a betrayal of trust but as a culturally apt way of repaying those close to you. Or in which skimming off the top of the public purse is seen as a service to the formerly colonised groups because it instils pride by showing the once subjugated are now enjoying the appropriate respect.

The reality that our governing party is probably assured of winning the next few elections makes the danger of condoned corruption even greater, since there is no chance any time soon that it will prompt a serious electoral threat to the ANC's hold on office.

Given these sobering realities, seeing the Yengeni saga as anything but an against-the-odds triumph for the system, is to vastly underestimate the dangers facing societies trying to make a new beginning.

More is at stake than an insistence that credit be given where it is due. Refusing to recognise the importance of action against Yengeni and cases in which the system is working is likely to harm our prospects of making progress towards honest government and a working democracy.

First, if politicians get no credit for enforcing or respecting honest government, their incentive to do so is reduced. Second, if citizens believe we are making no progress, they may conclude accountable government is impossible and working for it is not worth it. Third, by minimising the importance of a gain, it may ensure we do not realise the need to defend it, as we may need to do : Yengeni could try a comeback in a few years' time, as Allen Boesak did.

This would create the danger that action against politicians who break the rules will be seen as a temporary measure, not to be taken seriously. If we do not see the action against him now as a gain, we may be less inclined to ensure the advance is permanent.

The pressures against public probity are great. Reacting without enthusiasm when they are bucked is to set standards which we cannot meet and so to make it far more difficult for us to reach those which we can.

With acknowledgements to Steven Friedman and Business Day.