Not many people would walk around in public totally naked. Not many would dare to do that, but the president of the Republic of South Africa is doing that. He is openly and confidently parading about without knowing that he is naked.
This reminds me of the story of Hans Christian Andersen, published many years ago (April 1837). The full story is quoted below as published at this link
The moral of the story is that the Emperor was naked, but that he was tricked into believing that he was wearing special magical clothes that would go invisible to anyone in his administration that was unfit for his own position. The clothes though was supposed to be “beautiful”. Every time that the Emperor sent one of his ministers to investigate the progress while the so called weavers (they were swindlers that sold the Emperor the lie in the first place) were busy weaving these spectacular garments they would come back and report that it is just so beautiful.
The sad thing was that the Emperor was walking outside until a kid shouted that he was naked and the whole town agreed with him. You would expect that the King would be covered immediately, but he continues to walk on – the show must go on. That is truly the sad aspect.
The story around Mr Zuma is so alike the story of this Emperor. He has advisors that tell him that he is wearing the finest attire possible, that everything is going well. He has ministers that cannot see what is going wrong or what has gone wrong. They continue to say that everything is fine and under control.
Then he has supporters in the church in the country as well. It surely is not wrong to have supporters amongst the churches as such, but it is wrong if the churches do not tell him when he is naked that he is naked. In 2007 Mr Zuma was declared an “honorary” pastor at a meeting of independent churches – “Bishop Ben Mthethwa then put a cleric’s collar on Zuma and declared him a priest.” In an apparent swipe at President Thabo Mbeki, pastor Qiniso Shabalala said, “We want a leader who sees poverty and walks and lives among poverty-stricken people in Nkandla, rather than a person who learns about poverty through the Internet.” This is how it was reported in the media in May 2007
Now Mr Zuma is a polygamist. He has married quite a number of wives and what is laudable is that he is supporting them. What is not so positive is that he is using state funds to support his wives. It is true that some may argue that there is a valid point for being a polygamist from the biblical point of view. This, however, is not the case for Mr Zuma. In the Old Testament Kings like Dawid and Solomon had many wives (Solomon in particular) and this was done mainly for political reasons to retain control over their respective Kingdoms. Mr Zuma does not need this for control. He has total control as the ANC has total control. Churches should just point out that he is naked in certain areas. This is not the area to address now (although for a priest or pastor this would be a vital point).
The most important aspect that the church needs to point out to Mr Zuma is in the area of asking and obtaining forgiveness. The Constitutional Court was clear on Nkandla and there is no need to go into the matter in detail here.
The church could have assisted the president to draw up a response to the country. What Mr Zuma’s response to the country could have been is as clear as this: “My fellow South Africans, I have failed you as I have failed in my duty to uphold the Constitution of our Republic. Although I was advised in many of these areas, I am taking full responsibility for it. I will put measures in place to see that it will not happen again and I will remove the advisors that did not give appropriate advice. I am asking for your forgiveness. Will you forgive me? Will you assist me to get the best advisors from church and the political arena?”
This is telling the president that he is naked, but at the same time clothing him. Is there anyone in South Africa that is willing to cloth the president? Will we continue to tell him that he is wearing the most beautiful clothes? Will others keep on shouting that he is naked?
Hansie Louw
+2782 776 5462
(in my capacity as citizen in the Republic of South Africa)
28 April 2016
The naked Emperor:
Many years ago there was an Emperor so exceedingly fond of new clothes that he spent all his money on being well dressed. He cared nothing about reviewing his soldiers, going to the theatre, or going for a ride in his carriage, except to show off his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day, and instead of saying, as one might, about any other ruler, “The King’s in council,” here they always said. “The Emperor’s in his dressing room.”
In the great city where he lived, life was always gay. Every day many strangers came to town, and among them one day came two swindlers. They let it be known they were weavers, and they said they could weave the most magnificent fabrics imaginable. Not only were their colors and patterns uncommonly fine, but clothes made of this cloth had a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office, or who was unusually stupid.
“Those would be just the clothes for me,” thought the Emperor. “If I wore them I would be able to discover which men in my empire are unfit for their posts. And I could tell the wise men from the fools. Yes, I certainly must get some of the stuff woven for me right away.” He paid the two swindlers a large sum of money to start work at once.
They set up two looms and pretended to weave, though there was nothing on the looms. All the finest silk and the purest old thread which they demanded went into their traveling bags, while they worked the empty looms far into the night.
“I’d like to know how those weavers are getting on with the cloth,” the Emperor thought, but he felt slightly uncomfortable when he remembered that those who were unfit for their position would not be able to see the fabric. It couldn’t have been that he doubted himself, yet he thought he’d rather send someone else to see how things were going. The whole town knew about the cloth’s peculiar power, and all were impatient to find out how stupid their neighbors were.
“I’ll send my honest old minister to the weavers,” the Emperor decided. “He’ll be the best one to tell me how the material looks, for he’s a sensible man and no one does his duty better.”
So the honest old minister went to the room where the two swindlers sat working away at their empty looms.
“Heaven help me,” he thought as his eyes flew wide open, “I can’t see anything at all”. But he did not say so.
Both the swindlers begged him to be so kind as to come near to approve the excellent pattern, the beautiful colors. They pointed to the empty looms, and the poor old minister stared as hard as he dared. He couldn’t see anything, because there was nothing to see. “Heaven have mercy,” he thought. “Can it be that I’m a fool? I’d have never guessed it, and not a soul must know. Am I unfit to be the minister? It would never do to let on that I can’t see the cloth.”
“Don’t hesitate to tell us what you think of it,” said one of the weavers.
“Oh, it’s beautiful -it’s enchanting.” The old minister peered through his spectacles. “Such a pattern, what colors!” I’ll be sure to tell the Emperor how delighted I am with it.”
“We’re pleased to hear that,” the swindlers said. They proceeded to name all the colors and to explain the intricate pattern. The old minister paid the closest attention, so that he could tell it all to the Emperor. And so he did.
The swindlers at once asked for more money, more silk and gold thread, to get on with the weaving. But it all went into their pockets. Not a thread went into the looms, though they worked at their weaving as hard as ever.
The Emperor presently sent another trustworthy official to see how the work progressed and how soon it would be ready. The same thing happened to him that had happened to the minister. He looked and he looked, but as there was nothing to see in the looms he couldn’t see anything.
“Isn’t it a beautiful piece of goods?” the swindlers asked him, as they displayed and described their imaginary pattern.
“I know I’m not stupid,” the man thought, “so it must be that I’m unworthy of my good office. That’s strange. I mustn’t let anyone find it out, though.” So he praised the material he did not see. He declared he was delighted with the beautiful colours and the exquisite pattern. To the Emperor he said, “It held me spellbound.”
All the town was talking of this splendid cloth, and the Emperor wanted to see it for himself while it was still in the looms. Attended by a band of chosen men, among whom were his two old trusted officials-the ones who had been to the weavers-he set out to see the two swindlers. He found them weaving with might and main, but without a thread in their looms.
“Magnificent,” said the two officials already duped. “Just look, Your Majesty, what colors! What a design!” They pointed to the empty looms, each supposing that the others could see the stuff.
“What’s this?” thought the Emperor. “I can’t see anything. This is terrible!
Am I a fool? Am I unfit to be the Emperor? What a thing to happen to me of all people! – Oh! It’s very pretty,” he said. “It has my highest approval.” And he nodded approbation at the empty loom. Nothing could make him say that he couldn’t see anything.
His whole retinue stared and stared. One saw no more than another, but they all joined the Emperor in exclaiming, “Oh! It’s very pretty,” and they advised him to wear clothes made of this wonderful cloth especially for the great procession he was soon to lead. “Magnificent! Excellent! Unsurpassed!” were bandied from mouth to mouth, and everyone did his best to seem well pleased. The Emperor gave each of the swindlers a cross to wear in his buttonhole, and the title of “Sir Weaver.”
Before the procession the swindlers sat up all night and burned more than six candles, to show how busy they were finishing the Emperor’s new clothes. They pretended to take the cloth off the loom. They made cuts in the air with huge scissors. And at last they said, “Now the Emperor’s new clothes are ready for him.”
Then the Emperor himself came with his noblest noblemen, and the swindlers each raised an arm as if they were holding something. They said, “These are the trousers, here’s the coat, and this is the mantle,” naming each garment. “All of them are as light as a spider web. One would almost think he had nothing on, but that’s what makes them so fine.”
“Exactly,” all the noblemen agreed, though they could see nothing, for there was nothing to see.
“If Your Imperial Majesty will condescend to take your clothes off,” said the swindlers, “we will help you on with your new ones here in front of the long mirror.”
The Emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put his new clothes on him, one garment after another. They took him around the waist and seemed to be fastening something – that was his train-as the Emperor turned round and round before the looking glass.
“How well Your Majesty’s new clothes look. Aren’t they becoming!” He heard on all sides, “That pattern, so perfect! Those colors, so suitable! It is a magnificent outfit.”
Then the minister of public processions announced: “Your Majesty’s canopy is waiting outside.”
“Well, I’m supposed to be ready,” the Emperor said, and turned again for one last look in the mirror. “It is a remarkable fit, isn’t it?” He seemed to regard his costume with the greatest interest.
The noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as if they were picking up his mantle. Then they pretended to lift and hold it high. They didn’t dare admit they had nothing to hold.
So off went the Emperor in procession under his splendid canopy. Everyone in the streets and the windows said, “Oh, how fine are the Emperor’s new clothes! Don’t they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!” Nobody would confess that he couldn’t see anything, for that would prove him either unfit for his position, or a fool. No costume the Emperor had worn before was ever such a complete success.
“But he hasn’t got anything on,” a little child said.
“Did you ever hear such innocent prattle?” said its father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said, “He hasn’t anything on. A child says he hasn’t anything on.”
“But he hasn’t got anything on!” the whole town cried out at last.
The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, “This procession has got to go on.” So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn’t there at all.