What is happening to director of public prosecutions Bulelani Ngcuka is actually quite sad. His investigation of bribery allegations against Deputy President Jacob Zuma have left him a lonely public figure.

On the one side he has come under fire from his African National Congress (ANC) comrades, by suggesting that the Scorpions might have to fold into the police service, despite the organisation's sterling record in the fight against corruption.

On the other side he has come under fire from Zuma's allies who accuse him of being motivated by a political agenda that they have not defined.

One of the more preposterous ideas, and one betraying a profound ignorance of power dynamics within the ANC, is the suggestion Ngcuka is launching the probe against Zuma to make way for his wife to assume the deputy presidency.

Indeed, many commentators have suggested there are just two sides to this saga, that of Zuma and Ngcuka's allies.

The reality is both Zuma and Ngcuka's fortunes have waned among ANC power brokers.

These brokers are probably saying sizawutya efileyo, meaning they'll feast on the vanquished in this case both of them. I suppose this is yet another case of the revolution devouring its own children.

However, the point I really want to make has to do with the longer term implications of this saga for the political life of this nation.

In my previous life as a columnist for the Sunday Independent I wrote a couple of columns on the importance of Ngcuka's outfit, especially in the context of allegations of arms deal corruption. I warned against shooting messengers by either labelling them sellouts (when they are black) or racists (when they are white).

While saddened by the exclusion of the Heath unit from the arms deal probe, I also saw that exclusion as an opportunity for us black folks to demonstrate to a watching world, and more importantly to ourselves and our children, that this democracy is safe in our hands.

And I was reasonably satisfied by the subsequent investigation by public protector Selby Baqwa, AuditorGeneral Shauket Fakie and Ngcuka. And so, in November 2001 I wrote that, "in my book, all kudos should go to director of prosecutions Bulelani Ngcuka, public protector Selby Baqwa, and Auditor-General Shauket Fakie for the dignified and professional manner in which they have been laying firm administrative-legal foundations for our democracy".

In an earlier column I had also written about the role of the Scorpions in the Tony Yengeni affair: "Indeed, Bulelani Ngcuka's unit must be commended for their leadership in this matter Ngcuka and his unit have done us proud, and I pray that they will do us even prouder."

I did, however, have a nagging feeling I was perhaps being naïve in putting so much hope on appointed officials who serve at the pleasure and unpredictable whim of politicians.

I hate to admit that I was naïve indeed. It is worrying that government closes every agency that investigates corruption among the "higher-ups" in the governing party.

This whole saga is of course a fascinating study for students of history and politics. Just the other day one of my colleagues, Mcebisi Ndletyana, at present teaching at a US university, sent me the following e-mail:

"Heita my broer, I thought of you as I felt the excitement I imagine you must also be feeling arising from the political fracas surrounding Zuma and the Scorpions.

"Next year's elections and speculations over Mbeki's successor also adds to the hype. It must be fascinating to the political mind being part of what is essentially history in the making." My rejoinder was: "Quite right, my broer, but quite scary too." The arms deal saga is a sad demonstration of what happens when politicians turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to their citzens' protestations.

Unless decisive action is taken to cancel this deal, it is likely to be of far more damage to the ANC than just a debate about public expenditures.

It has already become a far more divisive political issue than the ANC ever imagined just as Watergate was to the Republican Party. It took a generation before Americans could really get over the scars of Watergate.

This political dimension of the arms deal is a classical illustration of James Bryce's argument at the turn of the century that corruption amounts to more than just the exchange of jobs or contracts for favours.

Steadily and surely, corruption leads to a fatal "political unsoundness" in the body politic. Perhaps our fate lies in this line from one of Don Mattera's poems: "A nation may die and quickly live again."

Mangcu is executive director of the Steve Biko Foundation.

With acknowledgement to Mangcu and the Business Day.