Do some of the people who testify at both the parliamentary ad hoc committee and Madlanga commission of inquiry know something we don’t? Aren’t they supposed to take the probes seriously?
There seems to be a continuous though disturbing theme where we are subjected to flippant, misguided and distasteful commentary from those appearing before the commissions, including Mary de Haas, Brown Mogotsi, Cedrick Nkabinde and now Imogen Mashazi.
De Haas was so hopeless even the University of KwaZulu-Natal had to issue a statement disassociating itself from her by explaining she currently does not work for the institution. Nkabinde was thrown out for admitting some of his information was “thumb-sucked”.
On Monday and Tuesday, Mashazi testified at the commission, but what stood out was her lack of interest in the questions she was being asked. From attending to her cellphone while being questioned to applying lipstick and refusing to provide evidence for allegations she made, to her nonchalant attitude, it raises questions about whether this exercise is serious at all. Or perhaps she knows something the broader public doesn’t.
What’s worse is that Mashazi claimed the Ekurhuleni metro police chief had raped and fathered children with his subordinates but did not provide evidence when prompted. These claims are too serious to be made flippantly. You’d expect someone who is a doctor to know better. But alas.
While the commissioners and MPs can only ask questions and hope they’re received with the necessary seriousness, the public is entitled to expect them to rebuke those eroding the stature of these inquiries. After all, these inquiries were established to investigate very serious allegations of malfeasance involving the capture of senior law enforcement officials.
Some of those who have appeared before the committee and the commission have, in their different ways, turned these platforms into theatres for spectacle and playgrounds for their unfounded allegations, jokes and dismissive behaviour.
But some of those who have appeared before the committee and the commission have, in their different ways, turned these platforms into theatres for spectacle and playgrounds for their unfounded allegations, jokes and dismissive behaviour. This should trouble all of us.
Does the clarity and accountability the public seeks not matter? The disregard for the seriousness of the matter and the ill manners of these people are an indictment on those leading these hearings.
The hearings were meant to be an avenue for honesty, introspection and the restoration of public trust. Instead, too many witnesses have embraced evasiveness as a strategy. Answers are hedged, memories suddenly “fail”, and simple questions are twisted into convoluted narratives designed to obscure rather than illuminate.
The public, whose faith in institutions has already been strained, is left watching a performance that feels more like an attempt to outsmart the process than to serve it.
Even more troubling is the growing trend of hostility and defensiveness from those seated before the commission. Testimony is not an attack; it is an opportunity to account for decisions made, decisions that have had real consequences for the nation.
The combative posture adopted by some witnesses suggests not only a lack of respect for the commission itself but also a disregard for the citizens who expect transparency from those involved in public affairs.
Then some appear determined to shift blame at every turn, pointing fingers in all directions except their own. This pattern of deflection has become so common that it borders on contempt for the process.
When Brown Mogotsi told the commissioners “ke utlwile [I am enough]” with a smug smile, the message he communicated wasn’t so much that he has, with requisite seriousness, attended to missiles fired in his direction, but of someone who sought to provide undue comic relief.
Leadership demands courage; yet here we witness an absence of it. Instead of acknowledging their roles and taking responsibility, however limited or complex, some seem intent on dishonestly rewriting their involvement altogether. It’s not unexpected, it’s just disappointing to know these pretenders walked the hallowed halls of power making far-reaching decisions as though they were authentic leaders.
Such behaviour does more than insult the intelligence of the commissioners, it undermines the entire process. A commission is only as strong as the honesty of the people who come before it. When witnesses turn evasive, combative or manipulative, they erode the very foundations of accountability that the inquiry seeks to uphold.
South Africa, and indeed any society that values democratic transparency, deserves better. It deserves witnesses who recognise that testifying is not an inconvenience (as Mashazi suggested when she spoke of her reluctance to return to the commission), but a responsibility.
The commission is not convened to indulge personal egos or political agendas; it exists to uncover facts, apportion responsibility and strengthen public institutions to ensure flagrant violations of the laws underpinning governance do not recur. In this way, trust is restored. Yet the spectacle under way gnaws away at everything that must undergird accountability and good governance.
We can only hope the Madlanga commission and the parliamentary ad hoc committee make stringent recommendations against the amateur comedians appearing before them. The joke, in the end, must not be on them.
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