When justice is a joke and parliament is full of clowns it's not funny, it's nauseating

Audiences would often burst out laughing when at the end of A Fish Called Wanda, the 80s comedy film, credits would reveal that Otto, one of the gang of diamond thieves played by Kevin Kline, had later fled to apartheid South Africa where he became minister of justice. It was hilarious, but a more serious point was being made: justice and apartheid were a contradiction that could not exist side by side, and the system had basically become a laughing stock. Mockery was therefore an effective weapon against it.

It was the responsibility of the justice minister to enforce apartheid laws. John Vorster built his reputation as the strongman who masterminded the crackdown following the banning of the ANC and PAC after the Sharpeville massacre, and enacted a battery of oppressive “laws” such as arbitrary banning orders against so-called enemies of the state, and detention-without-trial which, for a while, totally emasculated opposition to the system. That reputation later helped Vorster succeed Hendrik Verwoerd as prime minister after the latter’s assassination.

Jimmy Kruger followed in Vorster’s footsteps, clamping down on the resurgent black opposition in the 70s, and, is, of course, remembered for his dismissive comments about Steve Biko’s death 47 years ago on Thursday. His death, Kruger said, left him cold. That pretty much summed up the brutality and callousness of the system.

Thembi Simelane, of course, cannot by any stretch of the imagination be compared to her apartheid predecessors. Not by a long shot. She has in fact experienced the brutality of apartheid first hand. But like them, she seems in it to serve the interests of her party or herself rather than the cause of justice. The system and cast of characters have changed, but the attitude hasn't.

President Cyril Ramaphosa’s appointment of Simelane is probably beginning to make sense. It takes a thief to catch a thief, I guess. That probably would have been the hope. VBS suspects, though, must be heaving a huge sigh of relief. They're in good company. If they have to march to the gallows, how can she not come along? How can she be chief executioner? And how can she, in good conscience, remain in her job?

She's probably toast, but Ramaphosa, who often cringes at the sight of blood, is unlikely to plunge in the dagger. He'd probably wait for her to fall on her sword. But our politicians don't go unless they’re pushed. And so this could be death by a thousand cuts.

Simelane’s little difficulty seems to sum up the depravity of her party. They just can't seem to have enough. She was mayor of Polokwane but she also wanted a little coffee shop in Sandton, a swanky address. Grasping. Acquisitive. Greedy.

People may be forgiven for thinking that the advent of the government of national unity would see a respite from the scandals and the grasping for power and privilege. But instead the skeletons will not only continue to tumble out of the closet, but the cancer of avaricious addiction seems to spread to other parties. The self-styled progressive caucus, a collection of little parties, has crumbled at the first whiff of political power.

Bantu Holomisa’s party, whose name escapes me, actually nominated Julius Malema to be the country’s president, an irresponsible act unworthy of anybody who has the country's interest at heart. But that was before Holomisa was enticed by power. He's now happily snuggled into Ramaphosa’s GNU.

The state capture battalion not only brought the country to its knees and — for now, at least — have got away with it, they're being rewarded for it

Herman Mashaba, bête noire of the ruling party who claimed the DA had betrayed the much-vaunted opposition pact by getting into bed with the ANC, has done a volte-face. He's now feathering the ANC’s nest, imposing the feckless and corrupt Dada Morero on the long-suffering citizens of Johannesburg. Morero has in turn told ratepayers he's not about to address their concerns. Mashaba should love that. But he's not done yet. He's taking his wrecking ball to Tshwane. But he's not only destroying these metros; he's doing a good job trashing his own brand or party. Local government elections in two years should be interesting.

But could the GNU be reshaping minds and realigning ideologies? John Steenhuisen was excitedly sharing photos and missives from Beijing this week, with Ramaphosa's delegation as part of a bigger horde of African leaders there to bend a knee to the Chinese. Wish you were here, he seemed to be saying, in the manner of the old and unlamented postcard. He clearly seemed to be enjoying himself, and he was keen for us to know that. One would hope, though, that he’d had the good sense to leave his inconvenient chief of staff back at home.

But if there's somebody showing a blatant disregard for the wishes of voters, Jacob Zuma clearly takes the cake. He's nonchalantly hoarding all the crooks — Brian Molefe, Lucky Montana, Siyabonga Gama, all avatars of state capture. One feels almost nauseous just mentioning their names. Zuma is shamelessly using parliament as a thank you to the lapdogs who did his bidding. It would seem he's wreaking some sort of vengeance or launching a vendetta against the system. Or merely flexing his political muscle. The MK Party, the official opposition, is now chock-a-block with crooks. The more corrupt, the better, it'd seem. It's a rogues gallery. What makes it even more exasperating is that this betrayal of the public trust, this abuse of parliament, has been met with total equanimity. We seem to take it in our stride.

The state capture battalion not only brought the country to its knees and — for now, at least — have got away with it, they're being rewarded for it. Molefe, for instance, sitting on the portfolio committee on public enterprises, will quiz and interrogate executives cleaning up the mess he created at Eskom. John Hlophe, an impeached judge, is apparently well qualified to decide who should be a judge. It's the height of insanity. These people, including Simelane, are the proverbial foxes guarding the henhouse. They're in it for themselves.

The demise of apartheid did not merely signify the end of oppression but the birth of a new ethos and values, where the needs of the masses would be uppermost. But unfortunately South African remains a country where Otto, the robber, would still feel at home.