I have to hand it to the ANC. They apply this strategy rather well. The latest example is the way they diverted attention from the content of my final State of the Province address (SOPA) on Friday, 15 February.

With a little help from the “Independent” newspaper group and some broadcast media, the ANC was able to create enough diversion to drown out much of the good news in my speech.

After two terms in office, I gave a 10-year retrospective, with the statistical evidence to demonstrate the difference between where the Western Cape was in 2009, when we won the province from the ANC, and where it stands today.

Despite all the problems and challenges that remain, any objective observer would describe our progress as impressive. For example, our unemployment rate, on the broad definition, is 14 percentage points lower than the national average. Employment in the province has grown by 24%. Life expectancy has risen by seven years for men and eight years for women. And so on, and so forth.

But for me, the most important statistics reflect what we do for the most vulnerable of our citizens. When we took office, for example, there were a mere seven provincially funded substance abuse treatment services. Today there are 51, operating across 76 sites.

And, 10 years ago, a mere 120 people living with disabilities received specialised services supported by the Province. Today 88,000 do. This goes some way to explaining why 64% of all learners with special needs who pass matric, countywide, are from the Western Cape.

The SOPA not only enumerated these successes but analysed why and how development happens. It is a slow process, which requires the convergence of different elements. First among them are a capable state, the rule of law, and individual citizens who use their opportunities to take personal responsibility for improving their lives.

Point for point, I described how we had attempted to establish this context in the province – fertilising the soil that is now bearing fruit. The contrast between where we are now and where we were in 2009 is stark. But it is even more pronounced when the Western Cape is compared with other provinces.

The ANC couldn’t allow this story to be told so shortly before an election. So they crafted a strategy to establish a different narrative.

Ironically, even though their plan flopped, it created a significant diversion from the substance of my speech. Amazingly, a full nine days later, the ANC’s alternative narrative is still making front-page news. “ANC guns for Zille’s husband” blared a front page headline in the Weekend Argus yesterday (24 February), while the street posters trumpeted “Zille’s husband in spat with ANC”.

This was part of the residual drama of the ANC’s attempt to “occupy Wale Street” during my speech. The much-publicised event was preceded by their permit application for 3,000 people to convene a protest gather in Wale Street (outside the legislature) and hold an alternative SOPA, while I was speaking inside.

During the media fanfare preceding the event, the ANC announced that “from 9:30 on Friday morning outside the provincial legislature, the real state of the province will be described and the African National Congress will launch its manifesto and announce itself ready to govern the Western Cape after the 8 of May”.

By 10:30 that morning, an hour after the scheduled start of their protest, about 30 people had gathered outside the legislature.

So the ANC moved to “plan B”. They filed into the Provincial Legislature, just in time for me to begin my address — only to loudly heckle and interrupt every sentence, with senseless interjections, misdirected points of order, attempts to address the Speaker and pose additional questions. It was impossible for me to complete a coherent paragraph.

Taking full advantage of the rather weak sound amplification system in the legislature, our opposition successfully drowned out most of what I had to say.

Meanwhile Khaya Magaxa, the ANC leader in the legislature, constantly checked his phone. It was clear that he was being updated by the ANC’s organisers outside about the size of the crowd. Eventually, Magaxa stood up, leaving the chamber to check in person. By then, there were between 200 and 300 protestors present (at a generous estimate), including those bused in from as far afield as George and Drakenstein.

They were becoming restless, so the ANC concluded they had to proceed with their “alternative SOPA” (even though the crowd was 10 times smaller than anticipated).

Magaxa staged yet another fake “point of order” to announce that they could no longer listen to me misleading the House, and that the ANC would leave the chamber.

The rest of us clapped in relief. At least the people in the gallery would now be able to hear what I was saying.

As ANC members filed past the Speaker’s box on their way to the exit door, my husband (who was seated there) commented, under his breath: “You are very rude.”

Three ANC MPs, who had been particularly vocal and persistent in their heckling, heard him. One told him to “f… off, you old white man. You stole our land”. Two others leant over him, waving their fingers in his face, shouting further insults, which ended in “We don’t care about you. Voetsek”.

To which my husband replied, more audibly this time: “Well, I care about you.”

At least 80% of the news coverage the next day focused on the ANC’s protest, which reportedly included an ancient ritual to lay me to rest, and exorcise the building of my presence.

More than a week later the altercation with my husband was still on the front page, because the ANC women had successfully projected themselves as victims.

I reflected on what would have happened had the racial and gender dynamics been reversed — if three white men had sworn at and waved their fingers in the face of a seated black woman as they left the chamber.

It is a sign of the times that three aggressors manage to turn themselves into victims because of their gender and colour. In that sense the story is significant. In every other way, the only remarkable thing is that an otherwise unthreatening and factual comment, sparked an incident that managed to override the story of 10 years in government.

My speech told how progress and development really happen. It is slow, and difficult, and proceeds incrementally if a government does its job properly and spends money wisely and well. And it depends on people using their freedom to seize opportunities to improve their lives. Over time, the difference shows.

This is the hard truth South Africans have to learn. There is no other sustainable way to redress the legacy of the past. And this is a story the ANC seeks to prevent its supporters from hearing.

It is far easier to use the tried and tested method of racial mobilisation and scapegoating minorities to deflect responsibilities from failed government and rampant corruption.

South Africa is further along this dangerous road than many commentators care to think. It is time to spot the trends, and tell the truth. DM