I fully expect to bump into Mo Shaik at the Aston Martin showroom in Sandton sometime soon. As the new head of the secret service Mo (or “M” as he would probably now prefer to be called) is bound to need a new company car and a bog standard BMW 750i with all the bells and whistles isn’t going to fit the bill. Besides who wants to drive the same car as a commie? BMW tried to persuade the makers of the Bond movies to get 007 into a Beemer but it didn’t last. After all, why would a loyal member of MI6 be driving a German car? So it was back to the trusty Aston brand (although Bond drove a Bentley in Fleming’s books) and I hope that M will respect this when he comes to choose a car.

The choice of Mo Shaik as head of the secret service has predictably put the wind up a few people. That’s partly because he has the misfortune to come from a spectacularly sleazy family. His death defying brother Shabby did time inside for being a less than scrupulous financial adviser to President Zuma and his other brother Chippy seems to have pushed off to Oz rather than answer questions about the arms deal. But just because he has two dodgy brothers there is no reason to suspect that M is anything less than scrupulously honest. He doesn’t strike me as the sort or man who would plagiarise somebody else’s work to get a degree for example.

If you think about it though Mo Shaik as the obvious choice for the job. If you’re the head of state and belong to a party that is known to put the knife into its leaders and “recall” them from time to time you want to make damn sure that the bloke in charge of tapping the telephones is on your side. In the tricksy world of espionage you can never be sure of anything but at least Mo has stood behind Jacob Zuma through thick and thin. So giving him the job of spymaster general has bugger all to do with nepotism and everything to do with survival. Hopefully M will employ reliable agents who will be able to nip insurrection in the bud. Providing, that is, that our secret agents don’t have the same mindset as members of our defence force and want to form a union.

That really would spoil the whole thing wouldn’t it? Striking secret agents (with bags over their heads) toyi toying in the streets of Pretoria demanding exploding fountain pens and rocket launchers on their standard issue Golf GTi’s. Demands for inflated expense accounts so they can take tall Ukrainian lap dancers out to dinner and try to ascertain whether they are actually spies. And who will be spying on us anyway? Presumably we’re not worried about the usual suspects because we tend to cosy up to the world’s pariah states. So who are we spying on…..Botswana maybe?

Of course, M’s job is going to be much easier when we have all filled in our RICA forms like obedient sheep and told the cell phone companies where we live, what our ID or passport numbers are and given them a bank statement or a municipal bill as proof of residence. Most citizens in free countries object strongly to the idea of even carrying an ID card. The suggestion that everybody should be electronically tagged would be met with near revolution. And yet that is precisely what the SA government is demanding with cell phones. We are told that it is for our own good and that it is to defeat crime but that is hogwash. The real reason to register cellphones is so that government can keep tabs on us. Assuming that the majority of people carry their cell phones with them at all times or have them next to their bed at night then it is dead easy to work out exactly where you, the owner of the cellphone, can be found. So if M or the boys decide to have a round up of outspoken columnists one fine day all they need is our number and our details and the size twelves will be kicking in the door at four in the morning before you can say George Orwell.

The only point in giving the cellphone companies this information is so that they can pass it on to the government. The government can then track the movements of anyone with a cellphone and, if they choose, fabricate evidence against them. Which is why I won’t be filling in my RICA form and why I will be quite happy to hand my cellphone back in eighteen months.


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