When the South African constitution was being drawn up in the early 1990s, the process was informed by the ethos that key certain key characteristics of the apartheid system would never again blight the country. At its core, the constitution is eloquent about its determination to see the end of racism. But even at the periphery, it is equally eloquent about its determination to see the end of such apartheid-era hallmarks as police brutality and financial laxity.

One of the key elements embedded in the constitution aimed at ensuring financial probity was the office of the auditor-general.  Hence, the constitution states with in a lofty and confident tone: “The Auditor- General shall be independent and impartial and shall exercise and perform his or her powers and functions subject only to this Constitution and the law.”

Hence, the auditor-general’s office is, as a matter of legal character, subject to no one, other than the legislation enacted to govern its functioning and, of course, the constitution itself. The office is not a servant of Parliament, nor of the executive. It is its own master.

Yet all of the careful work done to establish the credentials of the auditor-general as a thoroughly independent body has been undone by a single act of awful folly. The drafts of what is now known as the arms-deal report show unequivocally that the final report was a thorough whitewash. The report is the joint responsibility of what is now the National Prosecuting Authority, the public protector and the auditor-general. Yet the role of the former two institutions was not particularly significant. The vast majority of the report came out of the auditor-general’s office.

A comparison between the draft versions and the final version shows a sea change in approach. The draft versions aim at ascertaining responsibility, the final version explicitly at deprecating responsibility.

The draft versions hold individual ministers responsible and specifically outline their roles in the process, particularly former defence minister Joe Modise. The final version states, on the basis of little substance in the investigation, that ministers acted in a way that was neither illegal nor irregular.

The facts that emerge from the draft and the conclusions drawn in the final version often point in exactly the opposite direction. In the late ’90s nineties SA had over five times more supersonic jets than it had pilots who could fly them. The logic for buying yet more jets was therefore questionable, and was questioned even by the defence force itself. Yet after much cajoling from Modise, and much shifting of the goal posts in the process, billions were spent on more jet aircraft. In short, SA bought planes SA did not need.

Auditor-General Shauket Fakie has spent much of the past few years denying that the report was changed in any fundamental way.

We now know this is not true. We now know why the draft versions had to be wrestled from his grasp after a lengthy legal brawl. We also know that Fakie met with President Thabo Mbeki before the drafting process was complete. The final report did find faults, but none so severe that it could found legal claims. A brief comment about Modise was all the final version could muster.

Business Day seldom calls on politicians or people in authority to resign, even in cases when it would seem quite obviously requisite. In a developing nation, with a new government operating in the hurly-burly of changing circumstances, as a matter of broad principle, people in authority should arguably be granted a degree of latitude to make mistakes on condition they learn from them. Ours is a culture of forgiveness and edification.

Yet this case reaches beyond that. Fakie is the defender of citizens and taxpayers, who part with money earned in productive effort on the basis that it will be spent well for the benefit of all. Fakie’s job is to ensure that public money is spent properly. He is endowed with the public trust.

That trust is now broken. He must do the honourable thing.

With acknowledgement to the Business Day.