President Cyril Ramaphosa. Photo: FIle
Senzo Mchunu has been placed on special leave pending a judicial commission of inquiry into allegations with national security implications. Despite the veneer of procedural propriety the announcement was anything but benign. “Special leave” is neither a definitive sanction nor exoneration, but an unease to placate critics while preserving political capital.
Ramaphosa, often accused of dithering, was again simply kicking for touch down the treacherous road of South African politics. The week-long delay in any meaningful statement about the KwaZulu-Natal police commissioner, Lieutenant General Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi’s damning allegations of corruption against Mchunu lays bare the fault lines of a presidency perpetually teetering on the edge of survival, particularly in the treacherous context of KwaZulu-Natal.
The president was in a serious predicament. Mchunu is no ordinary minister. He backed Ramaphosa in the heavy contestation for president of the ANC in 2017. Mchunu, as a former premier and MEC is a lynchpin in the ANC’s precarious hold on KwaZulu-Natal, a province where political loyalties are a brisk trade.
Mchunu’s influence, particularly north of the Tugela River, where the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) holds sway, is a rare asset for the ANC. His political clout in this region, coupled with his role as police minister, has made him a figure Ramaphosa cannot easily discard. Yet, Mchunu’s alleged indiscretions — details of which remain shrouded in the opaque language of “national security” — have forced Ramaphosa’s hand. The president’s hesitation to act decisively speaks volumes about the delicate balance he must strike, not least because Mchunu holds a sword over Ramaphosa’s own head — the Phala Phala scandal.
Had the police minister pursued those allegations with zeal, Ramaphosa might have faced the real prospect of criminal prosecution. The president’s decision to place Mchunu on special leave, rather than sack him outright, hints at a quid pro quo, a tacit acknowledgment of mutual vulnerabilities.
This is not the politics of principle but of survival, a grim reminder that in South Africa’s corridors of power, loyalty is often a currency more valuable than integrity. Ramaphosa’s reluctance to wield the axe betrays his fear that alienating Mchunu could unravel the ANC’s fragile grip on KwaZulu-Natal.
KwaZulu-Natal is a microcosm of South Africa’s fractured polity, where opportunism and patronage reign supreme. The province defies the neat analyses of political scientists. Former president Jacob Zuma looms large over its rural hinterlands and urban centres. His uMkhonto weSizwe (MK) party, a belligerent force, threatens to erode the ANC’s dominance in the provincial legislature and key municipalities, including the metropolitan prize of eThekwini.
With municipal elections in 2026, Ramaphosa cannot afford to destabilise the ANC’s already shaky foundations. A slip below 30% in the polls — a threshold the ANC has not crossed since 1994 — would signal not just an electoral defeat but the likely end of the party as a political force of any consequence. Ramaphosa knows that any misstep in KwaZulu-Natal could hasten its demise.
The province’s politics is a marketplace of competing interests, where loyalty is transactional and power is a prize to be bartered.
Ramaphosa’s lieutenants in the province are few and far between, their reliability questionable. Mchunu’s value lies not just in his political acumen but in his ability to navigate this treacherous terrain, particularly in the IFP-dominated north.
By placing him on special leave, Ramaphosa has opted for a half-measure, a gesture that avoids burning bridges while signalling a tepid commitment to anti-corruption.
This decision is prevarication dressed up as pragmatism. The judicial commission of inquiry, like so many before it, risks becoming a theatre of delay, a mechanism to deflect public outrage while allowing the status quo to persist.
What does this mean for South Africa? Ramaphosa’s gambit is a microcosm of the broader malaise afflicting the nation’s politics. The ANC, once a stellar liberation movement, is now a machine of patronage, its ideals eroded by the exigencies of power.
In KwaZulu-Natal, where the stakes are highest, Ramaphosa’s indecision risks ceding ground to forces that thrive on chaos. The 2026 municipal elections will be a litmus test, not just for the ANC but for Ramaphosa’s fragile legacy.
Dr Imraan Buccus is research associate at ASRI and at the University of the Free State.