On Tuesday, President Thabo Mbeki dismissed Deputy President Jacob Zuma from his Cabinet. Ray Hartley pieces together how he reached his decision

Sunday June 12 was a crisp Highveld winter’s day. By the afternoon, President Thabo Mbeki had finally made his decision. He was showing, in the words of an aide, “that quiet resolve, that silent resolve you see in his eyes”.

His deputy, Jacob Zuma, a man he had counted among his most trusted friends for 30 years, would have to be fired.

The friendship was over. All that remained was deciding the manner in which this grave political task would be carried out.

That afternoon he met three officials at his Pretoria residence. Joel Netshitenzhe, the head of government communications and the heir to the ANC’s intellectual tradition was accompanied by the avuncular Rev Frank Chikane, a former church leader who has run Mbeki’s government office throughout his presidency, and Mojanku Gumbi, the President’s legal adviser.

The three were the first to hear his decision.

He asked their opinion on the way forward. What would work best? A nationally televised address? A press conference? Parliament?

All agreed: it had to be Parliament. The President needed to communicate how serious a decision this was. He had to face the country’s elected representatives and deliver his decision unflinchingly.

Arrangements were made to call Speaker Baleka Kgositsile and request a special joint sitting of both houses for Tuesday afternoon.

But before that, on the Tuesday morning, the President wanted to meet his party leadership at a special “extended” National Working Committee meeting of the ANC and its allies in Cape Town. An extended meeting meant that the leaders of the ANC’s provinces as well as those of its allies, Cosatu and the SACP, would be present. That, too, had to be arranged.

Ten days earlier, Judge Hilary Squires had delivered a guilty verdict in the trial of Zuma’s financial adviser, Schabir Shaik, in the Durban High Court. He had done so over three days, in a clipped monotone, and the televised judgment had stunned the nation.

Mbeki’s inner circle had been quietly hoping against hope that Judge Squires would somehow explain how Zuma could legitimately have received money from Shaik and a French arms company.

But by the time Judge Squires had finished delivering his judgment, it was clear that the point of no return had been reached. The judge had repeatedly linked Zuma to the acceptance of bribes from the arms company. Zuma and Shaik, he said, had had a “generally corrupt relationship”.

The deputy president would surely do the right thing and resign, Mbeki reasoned.

But Zuma sent out a signal in the days following the judgment that suggested otherwise.

He told a working breakfast with South African businessmen in Lusaka: “My conscience is clear because I know that I have not committed any crime, nor was I charged with any criminal offence. I was therefore not in court to answer to any of the allegations made. ”

On the Saturday and the Sunday after the judgment a peculiar political ritual played itself out on the grounds of the government’s residential estate in Pretoria.

Zuma had returned from Zambia and he and Mbeki spent the weekend at their official residences, a short stroll across the park from each other.

But they did not meet once, not even to exchange pleasantries.

Mbeki wanted to keep a face-to-face meeting with Zuma as his final card — to be played only if Zuma could not be persuaded to do the honourable thing.

The President met ANC officials Mendi Msimang and Kgalema Motlanthe. As treasurer-general, Msimang held one of the more low-key posts at the ANC’s Luthuli House headquarters. But he shared exile roots with Mbeki and Zuma and made a natural emissary.

As secretary-general, Motlanthe spoke with authority. He had previously declared himself against the persecution of Zuma and also made a credible go-between.

For two days, they attempted to achieve “first prize” — a resignation. But Zuma reacted badly to their advances. He had done no wrong, had not been tried and would not step down. Full stop.

Former President Nelson Mandela would later also attempt to persuade Zuma to step down, also to no avail.

By Monday morning, the public clamour for action had grown and Mbeki decided to play his final card.

As a rule, Mbeki enjoyed spending his Mondays at Luthuli House, where he was able to meet party leaders informally. Unlike meetings in the Union Buildings, encounters there were more ad hoc, with officials walking in and out of the room.

On this particular Monday, Mbeki spent between two and three hours talking to Zuma, one on one.

Afterwards, it was clear that “first prize” would not be achieved. Zuma would stay unless dismissed — and even then, he would leave under protest.

As Mbeki prepared to depart for Chile on a two-day official visit, he asked Netshitenzhe to issue this statement: “The President has indicated that as soon as practicable after his return from a state visit to Chile, he will communicate to the public any decisions that he will have taken on the matter.”

Mbeki cancelled the second leg of his South American trip, a planned visit to Argentina, and was set to return home on Thursday June 9.

He was accompanied on his trip by Defence Minister Mosiuoa Lekota, who is also ANC chairman. Aides say they do not recall the two discussing the Zuma matter. The view taken by Mbeki was that it would be inappropriate to discuss the fate of one Cabinet minister with another. He had chosen to talk to Msimang and Motlanthe partly because both were outside the Cabinet.

Also on the trip was Vusi Pikoli, the head of the National Prosecuting Authority, the body that would have to decide whether to charge Zuma. Pikoli and the President flew separately and worked to independent agendas. Mbeki aides are adamant no discussion about Zuma took place between the men.

Mbeki had, since last year’s general election campaign, worked hard to project a less formal image, often breaking from official programmes to talk to ordinary people.

But in Chile — and back home, afterwards — he appeared to have withdrawn once more. He had a lot on his mind, and it showed.

Accepting an honorary degree in Santiago, he said: “While archaeological artefacts, mummies and skeletons may repose in museums to remind us of the rich legacy of our ancient thinkers and visionaries, we, the living, owe it to the present and the future generations, to employ the ‘true vigour’ which resides in our heads.”

Even more telling was his quote from Nobel literature laureate Pablo Neruda at a special sitting of the Chilean Senate on the Wednesday afternoon: “For my part and yours, we comply/ We share our hopes and winters/ We go on loving love and in our blunt way/ We bury the liars and live among the truth-tellers.”

In Cape Town that same afternoon, Zuma was handling President’s question time in Parliament. Among the answers was: “It is not within its terms of reference for the Moral Regeneration Movement to investigate allegations of corruption. There are a number of existing state agencies which are tasked with this responsibility.”

Mbeki returned from Chile on the Thursday. Between then and Sunday morning, he would make up his mind about what to do about his intransigent deputy. Over those three days, Mbeki discussed the matter with Gumbi, Motlanthe, Msimang and Netshitenzhe, among others, the drivers of his decision.

Gumbi advised on legal and constitutional issues. The conclusion reached would find its way into Mbeki’s speech announcing Zuma’s dismissal: the President was bound by the Constitution to respect other spheres of government. It was not for the executive to disagree with overall findings by a judge. That function belonged to the higher courts.

Mbeki would tell Parliament: “In this regard, I must emphasise that I studied this judgment not to make any determination whatsoever about its merits or demerits, about whether it was wholly or partially right or wrong.

“Accordingly, any actions we may take arising out of Justice Squires’s judgment would arise merely from the fact that a court judgment exists, which our Constitution enjoins us to respect. ”

On the Friday, Mbeki presided over a ceremony to mark the retirement of Chief Justice Arthur Chaskalson and the swearing-in of his successor, Chief Justice Pius Langa.

He quoted Canadian Appeal Court Justice Rosalie Silberman Abella: “The occasional judgment will collide with some public expectations, which will, inevitably, create controversy. But judgments that are controversial are not thereby illegitimate or undemocratic; they are, in fact, democracy at work”.

Mbeki’s conclusion was clear: he would not wait for the appeal process to play itself out. He would act immediately.

The discussions turned to other, less institutional, considerations.

What would failure to act mean? The conclusion was that there was a strong danger that corruption would achieve critical mass, that a “tipping point” would be reached where it became endemic.

In the words of one of the advisers : “You could end up looking like a Nigeria or an Italy. You would lower the threshold of public tolerance — or should that be public intolerance? You would find yourself perpetually having to defend someone very senior.”

Another effect of a failure to act would be to undermine the authority of the hierarchical system of government.

“We were saying: Cabinet systems do not allow for defiance of the President. You create a precedent.”

There were security considerations. The question was asked: “Can you afford to have a person in such a senior position compromised to a foreign person from a company that is so close to its government?”

Mbeki occasionally interrupted the discussion to recall his relationship with Zuma, how they had worked together in the ANC underground in Swaziland decades ago. “He seemed sad and emotionally drained,” said an aide.

The President canvassed opinion on the political fallout of firing Zuma. What effect would this have on the ANC’s own Youth League, on its trade union ally, Cosatu?

The conclusion was that while there were strident voices defending Zuma in public, there were others who felt differently. One aide put it this way: “The undisciplined ones were very loud. The disciplined ones were silent. There were some signals that the irrationality might have arisen from promises made about the post-2009 era.”

At one point, someone joked that “if we are not careful, we won’t have a tripartite alliance, you will have an Abuja alliance”.

There was only one decision that could be reached. By Sunday afternoon, Mbeki had put aside his 30-year friendship. It was time to show resolve.

On Monday morning he returned to Luthuli House to convey his decision to the ANC’s top elected officials — the “top six” — including Zuma, Msimang, Motlanthe, Lekota and deputy secretary-general Sankie Mthembi-Mahanyele.

It was not an easy meeting. There are unconfirmed suggestions that Zuma was made to recuse himself from it.

That evening, Mbeki flew to Cape Town and, at his official residence, Genadendal, finished the speech he planned to deliver to the joint sitting the next day. It was handed to his legal advisers for one final check.

The following morning he met the ANC’s extended National Working Committee at his home. The committee usually consists of 22 elected ANC officials and a further three ex-officio members. That day it included the party’s provincial party chairmen and the secretary-generals of Cosatu and of the SACP.

The presence of Cosatu’s Zwelinzima Vavi and the SACP’s Blade Nzimande was significant. Both had been outspoken in their demand that Zuma not be fired.

But, faced with a resolute Mbeki, they backed down. “Was it unanimous? Let’s put it this way: No one argued against that it needed to be done, that it was the prerogative of the President,” said one long-serving NWC member.

Ahead of the speech, there remained one final prickly logistical detail. Would it be wise, a senior Mbeki adviser wondered, for Zuma to be seated in Parliament while the President dismissed him from office?

“There were consultations, protocol-wise, as to what is the wisest thing to have happened. All the cameras would be focused on him. How would this play? How would other members feel?”

Zuma, it was decided, would watch from Tuynhuys, leaving his Parliamentary seat vacant.

Mbeki stood up to make the most difficult speech of his life.

The friendship was over. All that remained was the awful grind of politics.

With acknowledgement to the Sunday Times.