CHARLES MATSEKE | The Madlanga Commission: South Africa’s last stand against elite impunity

Officially gazetted on 28 July 2025, the Madlanga Commission of Inquiry is expected to begin in late August. It comes not as a surprise, but as a symptom of a sick State that keeps treating gunshot wounds with bandages made using paper.

While the logistics, scope, and terms of reference are still being finalised, we’re already deep in the psychological warfare of this moment.

A scandal breaks. A name explodes in the headlines. A commission is established. Cameras flash. Statements are read. Public outrage boils. And then? The cycle resets. But what sets this moment apart is that the very scaffolding of our State, its security architecture, its moral core, its constitutional credibility is now at stake.

It all began, not with a politician, not with a court ruling, but with a woman. Tebogo Thobejane, former lover of controversial underworld figure Vusi “Cat” Matlala who escaped an alleged assassination attempt and, in its wake, did what many feared to do: she spoke.

And when she spoke, walls cracked. Her testimony didn’t just open the floodgates; it gave shape and substance to the explosive allegations that followed from none other than KwaZulu Natal Police Commissioner General Nhlanhla Mkwanazi.

Without her leads, Mkwanazi’s claims might have floated like many others, weightless, political, speculative. But because of her, the dots connect. And now, a catalogue of faces including Senzo Mchunu, Shadrack Sibiya, Katiso Molefe, Brown Mogotsi, Malcolm X, Bheki Cele, Vusi Matlala, and perhaps even Mkwanazi himself may find themselves not only before the commission, but on the wrong side of history.

Before we get absorbed in the theatrics of witness testimonies, courtroom gasps, and soundbite justice, we must examine the face of the commission: Nhlanhla Mkwanazi.

His career trajectory is the stuff of legends, elevated to National Commissioner during Zuma’s presidency, seen by many as the quintessential “good cop”. But beneath the decorated uniform is a political undercurrent that cannot be ignored.

His timing is precise, almost too perfect. His delivery scripted yet piercing. And his audience? The public, but perhaps also his future constituents.

In a State where whistleblowers are assassinated and crooks celebrated, one must ask: who protects Mkwanazi? What internal or external force emboldens him to risk everything his career, his life, his legacy?

Zuma left the ANC to "save" it from the outside. Could Mkwanazi be attempting a similar manoeuvre? presenting himself as the honest broker in a corrupted system? After all, these are not anonymous leaks; they are formal declarations from a man at the very apex of the South African Police Service (SAPS) command structure. 

For someone in his position, these should not be "allegations" but actionable dockets. So, why now? Because the commission, if handled poorly, will not only further erode public trust, it may collapse it altogether.

This is South Africa, where the real mafia doesn’t sell drugs from street corners they pass legislation. They don’t wear chains and hoodies they wear robes and regalia. They don’t shoot from rooftops they shoot from X formerly known as Twitter, or more dangerously, from positions of authority. The State, increasingly, has become an enabler of its own dysfunction.

The phrase “mafia state” is not hyperbole. It is forensic description. Where money launders votes, where influence buys silence, and where commissions have become a kind of State theatre, a place where justice is gestured toward but never served. 

The Madlanga Commission might already be compromised by its own design: delayed scope, vague remit, political meddling, and strategic leaks. If the commission fails to act decisively, it risks becoming yet another ritual of catharsis a national confessional where sins are admitted, but no one is punished.

And as the 2026 local government elections approach, the stakes grow higher. If Mkwanazi is politically aligned, we may be witnessing the early moves of a high-stakes endgame: destabilise national sentiment, capture the electoral mood, and ride that wave into 2029. It is a strategy laced with populist genius and dangerous precedent.

Progressive political forces remain in disarray fractured, theoretical, and unelectable. Meanwhile, the right-wing fails to offer the kind of opposition rooted in service delivery or democratic principle. Instead, we get outrage merchants, Twitter/X revolutionaries, and identity messiahs.

All of this makes South Africa fertile ground for a constitutional breakdown camouflaged as democratic renewal.

Let’s be clear: criminal offences belong in courts, not commissions. A man who steals a loaf of bread is arrested within hours. But a man who loots R500 million gets invited to testify in a wood-paneled hall and then retires quietly on a State pension. 

This is the fundamental insult and a desecration of the rule of law.

A nation cannot sustain its dignity when commissions are treated as safety nets for the politically connected. What message do we send to the world when our State security crisis is televised like a soap opera? 

That our democracy is strong enough to self-examine? Or that our institutions are weak enough to collapse under pressure?

South Africa is at a crossroads, again. But this time, we may not get a second chance.

The Madlanga Commission could be the mirror in which we confront our institutional rot. Or it could become another episode in the tragicomic cycle of elite impunity.

One thing is clear: this time, the people are watching and they are tired of watching in vain.

Charles Matseke (MPhil in Politics and International Relations) is a researcher and writer with a keen interest in contemporary political dynamics. His research focuses on electoral politics, foreign policy analysis, and international relations, with a particular emphasis on the Global South and Africa's role in global affairs.