The welter of comment, conclusions and trite observations, much of it delivered anonymously and reported as though gospel, that has accompanied the judgment in the Schabir Shaik trial, points unequivocally to a single conclusion.

This was a political trial of Deputy President Jacob Zuma in absentia.

It was, ostensibly, about corruption and fraud, but interwoven into it are some puzzling aspects. After all, what was Shaik if he was not the agent of a joint venture in which he held a 20% stake while the majority shareholder, French armaments company Thales (now called Thint) held the balance? And if that is right, then where was Thint? Hiding, we are told, behind the skirts of foreign domicile.

No, no. This trial was all about the leadership succession stakes within the African National Congress (ANC). This was a power play that will deliver a litany of unintended consequences, some of which might, over time, be horrendous.

There should be no illusion about the extent of grassroots support for Zuma. Everything I hear tells me that his popularity is overwhelming. It may not be so among the ruling elite or in the business community, but it matters when it comes to counting votes.

Even so, that does not allow people, however popular or powerful, to ignore the law. When former national director of public prosecutions Bulelani Ngcuka announced he had a prima facie case against Zuma, but declined to charge him, I complained bitterly. Zuma, I said, should be brought before the courts. It was never within Ngcuka’s purview to make decisions of that nature.

Instead, Zuma has been charged and found guilty without ever having been inside a courtroom. And I am mystified by the egregious phrase employed by Judge Hillary Squires, that “a generally corrupt relationship existed” between Zuma and Shaik. I do not know what that means — and I doubt that it carries any legal validity whatever. If it does anything, it provides defence advocate Francois van Zyl with heaven-sent ammunition for the appeal. He must be the only man involved in this affair who is sleeping easily

And if, indeed, there is such a thing, then what does this mean for ANC members who might have been assisted by donors when in exile or immediately after their return? Are they corrupt? Have they been corrupted because they may owe so-called “favours”? If so, then by whom?

In the US, individuals and businesses pour extravagant sums into political parties. Some do this out of a political conviction, others do it to curry favour (pun intended) or for economic advantage.

There can be no end to this. It is a dangerous road, made more so, in this instance, and in this country, because its beginning has been cloaked by the application of judicial authority to achieve political ends.

What is of great concern is how this will affect the political life of the country — and what that might do to economic stability and growth. The man with the biggest headache has to be President Thabo Mbeki.

If Zuma is dismissed, it may lead to a split in the party with all the consequences that could bring in a flashpoint province like KwaZulu-Natal, and for a newly resurgent Inkatha Freedom Party.

Mbeki’s dilemma is underlined by his statement to the ANC’s national executive that he could not understand why Zuma was being involved since he had no influence whatsoever on the arms deal. In fact, at the time, Zuma was a member of KwaZulu-Natal’s executive committee, far removed from the arms procurement decisions.

Badly damaged though he is, the man with the options is Zuma. He could retire if he felt so inclined. But I doubt he will do that. If the heat is turned up, he might be tempted to cross the floor, with all the attendant dangers that could bring.

Or he might decide to sit tight and do nothing. From his perspective, that is probably his best alternative.

Almost as a footnote to all this I am constrained to observe that South Africa’s political history might have been radically diverted through a trial that has cost the state, so far, R40m and by a judge who has been paid, apparently, R3,5m for presiding over it.

Squires was a sitting member of Ian Smith’s Rhodesian parliament and was successively a minister of justice and then of defence in what was, unless memory serves me poorly, an illegal and repressive regime.

The ironies in this drama look destined to become nothing so much as a catalogue of calamities.

With acknowledgements to David Gleason and the Business Day.