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Why South African commissions fail to deliver justice and perpetuate violence
Why South African commissions fail to deliver justice and perpetuate violence

IOL News

time6 days ago

  • Politics
  • IOL News

Why South African commissions fail to deliver justice and perpetuate violence

THE Marikana Massacre is one of many examples of how commissions of inquiry fail to deliver justice for victims and their families, just like the Marikana Commission did. Those responsible continue with their lives, argues the writer. LONDIWE GUMEDE FORMER Economic Freedom Front (EFF) politician Dr Mbuyiseni Ndlozi argues that a president cannot find anyone guilty. He is, instead, advocating for a "proper" judicial commission of inquiry, led by a judge, with strict timelines. He deems this "proper" for a democracy. However, the subsequent analysis of South African commissions reveals how they often fall short of this ideal, instead perpetuating systemic violence and delaying justice. The Commissions Act, 1947 (Act No. 8 of 1947), used for enquiries like the Zondo Commission on State of Capture, originated under British colonial rule. This embedded a legalistic facade for systemic violence. It enabled apartheid-era enquiries, such as the Hefer Commission (2003) and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), which probed allegations of apartheid espionage against the then-National Director of Public Prosecutions Vusi Pikoli and the then-Justice Minister Penuel Maduna, and apartheid-era crime, respectively, to probe without any accountability. There was also the Donen Commission, which probed the UN's 'oil for food' program, which exonerates individuals linked to the scandal, like Tokyo Sexwale and former Director General Sandile Nogxina. Like colonial inquests pathologising indigenous resistance, modern commissions prioritise bureaucratic order over human dignity. Actress Tebogo Thobejane's condemnation, 'No mention of the lack of protection… left to fight alone,' echoes this centuries-old erasure. After a brush with death, she now attends a trial process that offers legal theatrics, not safety. Thobejane, a survivor of a hit allegedly engineered by her ex-boyfriend Vusimuzi 'Cat' Matlala and his wife, feels betrayed by the lack of protection against the suspected mastermind of the underworld. Commissions ritually harvest victim trauma while withholding redress. Matlala will likely be the subject of a commission of inquiry headed by acting deputy Chief Justice Mbuyiseli Madlanga after his name was mentioned by KwaZulu-Natal provincial police commissioner Lieutenant-General Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi two weeks ago. The Marikana Commission, which was established after the August 2012 massacre of Lonmin mine workers, gathered 641 days of testimony from widows of massacred miners and colleagues of the departed miners yet delivered no prosecutions or timely reparations. Similarly, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) heard 21,000 victim testimonies but granted amnesty to 1,500 perpetrators, providing only negligible justice. This dynamic inherits colonial evidence-gathering: Black pain becomes archival fodder, catalogued and then discarded. As Thobejane noted, President Cyril Ramaphosa's speeches often overlook victims, reducing their experiences to procedural footnotes. Commission structures inherently protect power networks. The Mokgoro Commission (2018) and Ginwala Inquiry (2007) scrutinised prosecutors threatening political elites under the NPA Act. Enquiries into police violence, such as those in Khayelitsha (2012), operated with weaker mandates. This bifurcation mirrors colonial "divide and rule" tactics, ensuring that accountability evaporates. The Zondo Commission's R1 billion inquiry, for instance, yielded minimal prosecutions despite documenting over R1.5 trillion in state capture. Victims like Thobejane receive a whiff of justice, marked by endless postponements while perpetrators retain influence. Ramaphosa's latest commission of inquiry's mandate is investigation, not prosecution. Judicial appointments cloak commissions in false objectivity. Retired judges like Farlam (Marikana) and Seriti (Arms Deal) lent legitimacy to enquiries that ultimately shielded the interests of the state and corporations. The president's latest 'independent commission' further demonstrates how these bodies often obscure underlying political complexities and power struggles. This legal theatre pathologises victims: Marikana miners were framed as 'illegal strikers,' while Thobejane's assault became a tabloid spectacle. When commissions centre perpetrators' due process over victims' safety, they enact "terror through bureaucracy." The TRC's unresolved legacy continues to haunt recent and past commissions. Thirty years later, only 137 of its recommended prosecutions have been investigated, while apartheid-era cases like the Cradock Four murders remain in legal limbo. Nomonde Calata's tears at a 2025 inquest echo her 1996 TRC testimony, testifying to the commission's broken promises. Thobejane's demand for 'accountability and support' confronts this cycle; her ex-boyfriend faces new charges while his police and political connections remain intact. Reparations remain theoretical: TRC victims received a single payment of R30 000 each, while Marikana families await R1 billion in compensation. This reflects colonialism's core calculus: human suffering indexed against fiscal "pragmatism."Breaking this machinery requires centring victims as architects, not evidence. Unlike President Ramaphosa's commissions, a transformative approach would enforce existing recommendations: implementing the Khayelitsha Commission's 2012 police reforms, funding TRC-mandated educational reparations, and prosecuting the network of Thobejane's ex-boyfriend beyond his hitmen. Thobejane's courage, demanding protection while testifying, sets a model for this agency. Yet, without dismantling the Commissions Act and colonial-era legalisms, enquiries remain stone fortresses where violence is ritualised, not remedied. South Africa remains fractured by inequality, a landscape where commissions consecrate state power while the vulnerable fight alone in the ruins. (Gumede is a freelance journalist with interests in politics, economics, sports, travel, and community news. Her views don't necessarily reflect those of the Sunday Tribune or IOL)

SA Police Service records lowest public trust in 27 years
SA Police Service records lowest public trust in 27 years

The Citizen

time6 days ago

  • Politics
  • The Citizen

SA Police Service records lowest public trust in 27 years

The allegations levelled against senior national police executives by KZN provincial commissioner General Nhlahla Mkwanazi has caused the SAPS' public trust to dip. Research released on Friday by the HSRC South African Social Attitudes Survey (SASAS) shows trust levels have remained relatively low – and not once in 27 years have more than half the adult public trusted the police. This suggests the issue of police legitimacy is by no means a new one. From 1998 to 2010, the average level of trust in the police was relatively static, ranging between 39% and 42%. This was followed by a sharp decline between 2011 and 2013, following the Marikana Massacre of August 2012. However, confidence had almost returned to the 2011 level by the 2015 survey. The 2016 to 2020 period was characterised by modest fluctuation between 31% and 35%. The hard lockdown during the Covid-19 pandemic, which included instances of police brutality in enforcing lockdown regulations, appears to have impacted confidence levels, based on the 2020 survey results. In 2021, public trust in the police dipped to an all-time low of 27%, reportedly linked to the July 2021 social unrest in KZN when many criticised the poor performance of the SAPS. This was followed by a further 5% drop to 22% in 2022, with 2023 and 2024-25 confidence levels almost unchanged, possibly reflecting increasing rates for certain crimes. The 2022, 2023 and 2024-25 figures are the lowest recorded in 27 years. The full report and figures can be accessed here: Don't have the ZO app? Download it to your Android or Apple device here: HAVE YOUR SAY Like our Facebook page and follow us on Twitter. For news straight to your phone invite us: WhatsApp – 060 784 2695 Instagram – zululand_observer At Caxton, we employ humans to generate daily fresh news, not AI intervention. Happy reading!

A VIEW OF THE WEEK: Spare the rod, save the inmate
A VIEW OF THE WEEK: Spare the rod, save the inmate

The Citizen

time04-07-2025

  • Politics
  • The Citizen

A VIEW OF THE WEEK: Spare the rod, save the inmate

While corporal punishment for adults may seem like a good idea, the last thing an already violent country needs is another way to beat out its anger. In his 1961 book on corporal punishment, British Parliamentarian Leslie Hale asked, 'Has an innocent man ever been hanged?' South Africa may have abolished the death penalty in 1995, but the debate over it rages on 30 years later. At the heart of the call for its reinstatement is the country's crime crisis. Frustrated at peaceful interventions that go nowhere, repeat offenders, and a slow justice system, police and residents often take matters into their own hands. When officers are gunning down suspects in a shootout or residents are overturning a car to try to reach alleged criminals, they are fighting violence with violence and adding to an already violent society. They are creating an unofficial death penalty that is fueled by vengeance and retaliation, not deterrence. Return to the good old days? Correctional Services Minister Pieter Groenewald this week suggested the formal return of another channel of violence: corporal punishment. Corporal punishment in prisons has been illegal since 1996, but the minister believes its return may alleviate overcrowding. His suggestion comes from a frustration that so many suspects are awaiting trial and, because thousands of them can't even afford the cheapest of bail, are clogging up prisons and resources. Alleged criminals are flooding into prisons, but courts can't deal with the number, so it causes a bottleneck that needs to be addressed, or it risks further destabilising the system. While deporting foreign suspects is one option, the diplomatic, legal, and administrative headache it would bring will add to an already unbearable migraine for the justice system. This and corporal punishment are both compelling arguments, but are populist and shallow when more balanced and thoughtful solutions to the issue are needed. Expanding public works and basic maintenance projects, labour or production camps, and increasing prison farms would all serve awaiting-trial inmates and the country better. ALSO READ: A VIEW OF THE WEEK: We need a ceasefire in the war on children Blood and violence everywhere Dealing out violence is not a workable solution. Countries that have taken such an approach have not seen a marked improvement, but rather a spiralling of the problem into further lawlessness. South Africa's Apartheid past is soaked in blood from all sides, justified through suppression, resistance, and tribalism. Events like the Marikana Massacre post-1994 have shown we have not outgrown the scourge. The prevalence of domestic violence and violent crimes on a daily basis points to a population psychologically damaged, and who have been taught the only way to express their point or solve disputes is with a weapon. For centuries, innocent men and women were hanged, and many more were beaten. Returning to corporal punishment will add to those assaulted wrongly and, even if dealt to those guilty, keep us trapped in the never-ending cycle of violence. NOW READ: A VIEW OF THE WEEK: Trump should have learnt from SA 'white genocide' moemish before bombing Iran

Are unions still relevant? Yes, they gave us our dignity, say workers
Are unions still relevant? Yes, they gave us our dignity, say workers

Mail & Guardian

time02-05-2025

  • Politics
  • Mail & Guardian

Are unions still relevant? Yes, they gave us our dignity, say workers

Essential: Although trade unions no longer occupy the same status they did during apartheid, they remain vital for vulnerable workers. Photo: Delwyn Verasamy Labour relations reached a crossroads with the Marikana Massacre, raising questions about the relevance and power of unions post-apartheid This content is restricted to subscribers only . Join the M&G Community Our commitment at the Mail & Guardian is to ensure every reader enjoys the finest experience. Join the M&G community and support us in delivering in-depth news to you consistently. Subscription enables: - M&G community membership - independent journalism - access to all premium articles & features - a digital version of the weekly newspaper - invites to subscriber-only events - the opportunity to test new online features first Already a subscriber?

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