Nomvula Zeldah Mabuza is a Risk Governance and Compliance Specialist.
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South Africa enters this year not in crisis but in suspension.The country is not short of laws, institutions or formal authority. It is short of something more elusive and more consequential: the consistent exercise of settlement.
We have learned to recognise corruption, scandal and failure. What we have not fully named is the condition that follows and too often does not. South Africa is an unfinished democratic project whose governing instinct has been to postpone settlement when settlement carries risk. This is not an incidental weakness.
It is a pattern of state behaviour that has repeated across decades, across administrations and across the very institutions designed to defend finality. South Africa has repeatedly deferred decisive closure at moments where closure would have forced moral, legal, or political alignment.
That deferral has accumulated into a governance culture where time is used as a substitute for decision and process as a substitute for consequence. This is not a moral argument. It is an institutional one. A functioning democracy does not require perfection. It requires closure. In any system of law, legitimacy is not built only on the presence of rules, but on the predictable conversion of findings into outcomes.
Where closure is absent, society does not become lawless overnight. It becomes strategic. Compliance becomes conditional. Citizenship becomes transactional. We have lived with this condition for so long that it can be mistaken for normal political turbulence. It is not. It is a structural deficit of finality. The story begins where the democratic story should have ended decisively: in the settlement of history.
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) established a moral record and recommended that certain matters be pursued through prosecution. In the years that followed, closure was repeatedly deferred. The result was not only delayed justice for victims, but a precedent for the state. A system that teaches itself that settlement is negotiable, especially when consequences feel destabilising, eventually struggles to impose settlement anywhere.The commission era that followed did not correct the precedent. It codified it.
From major inquiries into procurement, corruption, state-owned enterprises and governance failure, a familiar rhythm took hold: public exposure, technical recommendations, then a long fade into litigation, administrative dispute and procedural exhaustion. Commissions became the state’s preferred language for acknowledging crisis without concluding it.
This is not a complaint about investigation. South Africa has never lacked investigative capacity. It is a diagnosis of what follows investigation and too often does not. In recent years, this pattern has extended into the unfinished business of apartheid-era justice. A judicial commission established to examine alleged suppression or interference in prosecutions of apartheid-era crimes was delayed at its inception by legal objections, reinforcing a painful national signal: even historical settlement, once re-invoked, struggles to conclude.
Around 150 apartheid-era cases had been recommended for prosecution by the TRC, yet the machinery of finality has remained contested, delayed and incomplete.This matters because the public has evolved. The question is no longer whether wrong doing exists. The question is whether the state still possesses the confidence and coherence to close the chapter once wrong doing is established.
Here, a particular kind of statistical reassurance often enters the conversation and it should be treated with caution. A conviction rate calculated on a self-selected subset of concluded cases is not a measure of justice. It is a measure of what was chosen to be concluded. That is not cynicism. It is governance literacy. In a system where high-risk, high-credibility matters remain unresolved for years, a narrow set of concluded cases cannot carry the burden of public belief. This is why South Africa’s crisis is no longer best described as a crisis of rules. It is a crisis of consequence, more precisely, a crisis of finality.
The effects are visible in the most routine accountability system the country possesses: audits.In the 2023–24 local government cycle, only 41 municipalities achieved clean audits, just 16% of those audited.This is not merely a technical failure. It signals a state that documents failure more consistently than it resolves it. When this becomes normal, public expectations adjust downward. Citizens do not merely lose trust in councils. They lose trust in the concept of correction.The same pattern appears in how the state responds to governance practices that courts and the public debate increasingly recognise as corrosive.
Consider the national argument around cadre deployment. The point here is not partisan. It is institutional. When governance culture is shaped by internal political allocation rather than transparent merit and consequence, the state gradually loses administrative legitimacy and operational discipline. Litigation has compelled disclosure of cadre deployment records, while broader legal disputes about the constitutionality and legality of deployment practices continue through the courts.
This is what hesitation looks like in institutional terms. It is not the absence of law. It is the slow conversion of law into process and the slow displacement of outcomes by argument.The current political era intensifies this tendency. Coalition governance, now formally embedded through a Government of National Unity, requires negotiation, consultation and balance. Those can be democratic strengths. But coalition governance also carries a risk that matters profoundly for a country already suffering from finality deficit: accountability diffuses. Authority fragments. Decisions delay.
In that environment, postponement becomes the default language of stability.The economic consequences follow with precision. Investors do not ask only whether rules exist. They ask whether rules conclude. When accountability drags, when disputes remain permanently open, governance risk becomes a hidden tax. Capital prices in delay. Long term commitments hesitate. Private investment migrates towards environments where finality is not negotiable. Public finance is impacted in quieter but more punishing ways. When consequence fails, loss is not eliminated.It is socialised. Municipal dysfunction becomes household cost. State-owned enterprise failures become fiscal drain. Repeated repairs replace prevention. The state expends increasing energy managing damage rather than enforcing discipline.
Infrastructure is where the theory becomes visible. Ports stall. Rail falters. Supply chains fragment. These are not technical mysteries. They are governance outcomes. When accountability diffuses across mandates and timeframes, decay proceeds without interruption. International benchmarking has reflected this plainly.
The World Bank’s Container Port Performance Index has repeatedly ranked several South African ports among the weakest performers globally in recent editions.The most profound cost, however, is civic.Trust does not collapse through outrage alone. It collapses through repetition without resolution. When citizens observe that exposure rarely leads to proportionate consequence, disengagement follows. The language of accountability loses meaning. Participation thins. Exit becomes rational. South Africa is not experiencing a crisis of capability. It is experiencing a crisis of belief.
This is why one of the most damaging developments in recent public life is not internal scandal, but externalised legitimacy warfare. When private actors travel abroad to portray South Africa as a state committing mass atrocities and do so in a manner that invites diplomatic, economic and reputational consequences, a serious state responds with clarity. Not through panic. Through principle. It distinguishes protected speech from conductt hat materially undermines national cohesion and investment confidence. It defends sovereignty through lawful consequence.
When the state hesitates in such moments, or treats them as mere political noise, it sends a signal far beyond the incident itself. It signals that actions capable of destabilising the republic can be committed without proportionate institutional response if they are politically uncomfortable or socially volatile. This is how impunity becomes ambient. This is how sovereignty weakens quietly. Reform in this context is not a programme or a slogan. It is a discipline. It is the willingness to conclude, not merely investigate. To decide, not merely consult indefinitely. To accept that stability secured through avoidance is temporary, while stability secured through settlement endures.
South Africa still possesses the institutional architecture to correct its course. Its courts function. Its legal framework endures. Its capacity has not vanished. But correction will not come from rhetoric, reassurance, or process alone. It will come from the quiet restoration of consequence as a governing principle and from the restoration of finality as a legitimate state function.
South Africa’s institutions have not failed loudly. They have learned to hesitate quietly. What is at risk now is not legality, but legitimacy. Not authority, but confidence in its use. A state can survive many errors, but it cannot indefinitely survive the erosion of its ability to conclude. Finality is not an abstract ideal. It is the mechanism through which law becomes real, accountability becomes credible and trust becomes durable. Until it is restored, the country will continue to govern in suspension, competent on paper, unresolved in practice.
Nomvula Zeldah Mabuza is a Risk Governance and Compliance Specialist with extensive experience in strategic risk and industrial operations. She holds a Diploma in Business Management (Accounting) from Brunel University, UK, and is an MBA candidate at Henley Business School, South Africa.
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