At the height of any political crisis, a few essential questions inevitably arise. The first is diagnostic: What exactly is the problem? This is where we usually excel. In South Africa, we’ve become adept at naming the issues – widespread corruption, bloated state-owned enterprises, an oversized cabinet. We know we’re paying far too much in taxes and receiving far too little in return.
The second question – Where do we go from here? or even What do we do now? is where we consistently fall short. Despite our clear understanding of the problems and all the required mechanisms, we lack the political will to move from diagnosis to cure. We’re stuck at point A with seemingly no will to cross the bridge to point B.
In countries like Germany, Denmark, or the Netherlands, citizens also grumble about taxes. But they do so with far less bitterness, because they see results. A third of your gross income might disappear, but in return you receive universal healthcare, a functioning state pension, safety, efficient bureaucracy, and immediate, no-questions-asked unemployment benefits, as long as you’ve played by the rules.
In South Africa, that same third vanishes into the ether. You’re left with private medical aid that costs a fortune—not by choice, but because the public health system is a danger to your wellbeing. Private healthcare, to be fair, remains one of our few functioning institutions, and probably the only reason many skilled professionals haven’t left the country entirely.
But the rest? You’re funding a cabinet that’s three times larger than necessary, and a police force that’s riddled with dysfunction and, increasingly, open to serious allegations of corruption. This is not an abstract concern, as this past week’s allegations of corruption at the highest level has made clear.
When the allegations of corruption broke, we at Free SA had a discussion and decided that we should call for a commission of enquiry – clear and focussed. The response that we got was telling. More and more comments came in from our supporters and from society at large that another commission is not the way forward. People are sick and tired. Tired of inquiries that take four years, cost millions, and end with no arrests, no removals – at best, a polite retirement for one or two officials, or a luke-warm shoulder at the next party elections. The more we thought about it, the more we realised: They’re right.
Responding to Criminality with Bureaucracy
South Africans understand that a commission of enquiry is better than silence. But when commissions end with no tangible accountability, they become a form of institutional theatre – smoke and mirrors rather than genuine instruments of justice. Instead of stopping corruption, they delay it, dilute it, and in many cases, legitimise it through inaction. The message they send is clear: you can steal, as long as you’re willing to sit through a few hearings and maybe retire to a golf estate.
True deterrence lies not in recommendations, but in prosecution, incarceration, and public disgrace. Until corrupt politicians understand that criminal actions yield serious consequences—not just political fallout, but real prosecution—nothing changes. This approach isn’t uniquely South African; democracies worldwide hold their leaders legally accountable.
Perhaps we fear another 2021-style crisis sparked by Jacob Zuma’s arrest. But this fear begs the question: should any politician wield such influence that they are beyond the law? If threats of violence deter us, what message does that send? What future does that promise?
Commissions of inquiry should be the start—not the end—of the process. Arrest those we have credible evidence against. Investigate thoroughly and impartially. And if found guilty, enforce punishment without exceptions—especially for those who betrayed public trust in a country struggling with poverty, hunger, and basic service delivery.
South Africa’s Decade in Commissions (and no results)
Over the past decade, South Africa has launched numerous high-profile commissions. Most notably:
● The Seriti Commission (2011) into the arms deal. It cleared implicated officials before being declared invalid years later.
● The Zondo Commission (2018–2022), investigating state capture: it cost nearly R1 billion, produced extensive findings implicating Zuma, the Guptas, and others—but delivered few prosecutions
Despite clear recommendations – for example, prosecuting Molefe, Singh, Gama, Myeni – most remain free, uncharged, or retired. The repeated pattern: commission in, revelations out, little judicial or criminal follow-up. The result? A cynical public, eroded trust, and emboldened elites who believe they can escape accountability.
International Standards: Accountability in Action
Contrast this with international examples where corruption meets contempt:
● In France, former presidents Jacques Chirac and Nicolas Sarkozy were convicted of corruption, or influence peddling, and sentenced to prison time
In Israel, Ehud Olmert was jailed for fraud; Moshe Katsav imprisoned for sexual crimes
● South Korea sent former presidents Park Geun‑hye and Lee Myung‑bak to prison for corruption
These countries demonstrated a commitment to justice—even when it meant imprisoning former leaders. Their institutions proved stronger than individuals, showing that enforcing the rule of law—even at the highest levels—is not only possible, but foundational to democracy.
South Africa has now diagnosed the disease. We’ve exposed the symptoms. But unless we move to treatment – swift, honest, criminal accountability – we remain stuck in an endless cycle of inquiry without justice.
The way forward
There can essentially only be two options: Either government must act, or the voter will react. The ANC has known for more than a decade that their legacy-votes are running out. Those South Africans who had an ANC-or-nothing at all approach to politics are changing their minds, or have passed on. The current voter might appreciate the struggle of previous generations, but is less likely to forget the current struggle because of it. In the Darwinism of political parties the idea of adapt or die has proven true and relevant, and in an era where legacy parties globally are struggling to maintain their seat at the table, the ANC might very well gain a lot from a bit of introspection, followed by real, visible action. Removing a thorn in your side is painful and might leave a bit of a scar, but I would argue that leaving the thorn and waiting for the whole body to die of infection is just a tad worse…
The world shows us that conviction doesn’t collapse nations. It strengthens them. It’s time for us to be stong.
