By David Williams

“He said absolutely nothing.” That was the verdict of a distinguished retired academic on Jacob Zuma’s after-dinner address to the members (mostly white, all well-heeled) of the 1926 Club, meeting at the Rand Club in central Johannesburg two weeks ago.

Normally the monthly meeting of the 1926 Club – a formal discussion society that, for 70 years, has invited major political figures to speak – is conducted under Chatham House rules, as established by the Royal Institute of International Affairs. These provide that the proceedings are private, but can be quoted as long as the speaker and venue are not identified.

Zuma specifically asked that the speech be on the record – not that this made much difference. The address was less about what was said than how it was said. The theme was implied rather than stated: “Everything will be all right if I am president of the ANC – and, for that matter, of the country.” It was an exercise in reassurance by an instinctive politician. The audience seemed attentive – but politely unconvinced.

When he took the microphone, Zuma apologised for having the flu (he was to battle with a persistent cough throughout his speech), and noted that “when I agreed to come, I didn’t have the flu”.

He spoke quietly and deferentially, with none of the flamboyance, dancing and singing that have marked his appearances at rallies. However, it was hard to expel from one’s mind some of the savage Zapiro cartoons that followed Zuma’s trial on allegations of rape.

The speech began with a rambling reflection on how SA had solved its problems in the past, having “come through conflict” in a time when “we used to call one another names”.

He referred to the ANC’s leadership continuity. “People asked: What will happen when Tambo goes?’” he said. “And of course there was Mandela. And when Thabo Mbeki goes – if he goes – who will succeed?” This drew laughter.

The ANC’s December conference was “provoking quite a bit of excitement,” as well as “the anxiety of the unknown”. He made the astonishing statement that “the ANC is not divided… the media have created the battle for succession”.

Economic policy was determined not by individuals, he said, but by the ANC: “Whoever is elected will guarantee peace and stability.”

However, he offered a rare insight into the Mbeki government’s approach to Zimbabwe. The ANC could not be too critical of the Mugabe government “because it would look like we were being sent” by the Western colonial powers.

There were some darker notes. On crime, he said vaguely, “we need to do more… the laws are too moderate, laws protect the criminals”.

He recalled a visit to South America, and remarked (approvingly?) that the Mexican media “do not report crime as we do” because it would make the country look bad. On the other hand, he said, in SA “we do not mislead one another”.

It was hard to know exactly what points Zuma was making. When asked if he believed in a strong parliamentary opposition, he replied ominously: “Why do we need an opposition, if people see the value of the ANC?”

The Land Act is “too complicated… we need to look at cut-off dates,” he said. Whether such a cut-off would favour incumbent farmers or claimants was impossible to tell.

In a deft rhetorical device, when speaking of his own encounters with the state, Zuma moved smoothly into referring to himself in the third person. “When the deputy president was relieved of his duties,” he said, there was “unhappiness about how some state organs had abused their power.”

The impression that lingered was of a man who has no interest in policy – and, to judge by his utterances, has no policies – but a great deal of interest in power, while doing his best to appear a reluctant candidate.