Not above reproach: The Constitutional Court’s scandalous delay in the Phala Phala judgment shields presidential misconduct, says the writer.
More than 14 months have passed since the constitutional court heard the Phala Phala review application on 26 November 2024.
Judgment was reserved that day and, by February 2026, the apex court has delivered nothing.
There has been no ruling, no reasons and no indication of when relief might come. This is not a routine backlog. It is completely and utterly unprecedented in the court’s modern history for a matter of such national importance, involving presidential accountability, to languish this long without resolution.
The Norms and Standards for Judicial Officers are clear: judgments must be handed down within three months of the hearing, with extensions to three to six months acceptable in ordinary cases and perhaps up to nine months only for extraordinarily complex matters burdened by vast evidence or novel constitutional questions.
Even the court’s own critics and annual reports acknowledge that prolonged delays erode public confidence, yet this matter now stands at more than four times the prescribed period.
The Phala Phala case itself could not be simpler. It asks one straightforward question: did parliament act rationally and lawfully when it rejected the independent section 89 panel’s findings and voted against any further probe into President Cyril Ramaphosa’s conduct?
There are no intricate doctrinal tangles or endless expert disputes, only the application of basic rationality review to a clear parliamentary decision.
The underlying facts remain uncomplicated and damning. In February 2020, thieves stole about $580 000 (around R10 million at the time) in undeclared foreign currency stashed in furniture at Ramaphosa’s Phala Phala game farm.
This cash, tied to undeclared game sales, breached exchange control laws, tax obligations and anti-money laundering provisions.
Ramaphosa’s response — deploying his presidential protection unit for a covert cross-border pursuit of suspects — bypassed standard South African Police Service channels and raised immediate questions of state resource abuse and executive overreach.
This delay stands in stark contrast to the Constitutional Court’s handling of similar high-stakes matters involving presidential accountability.
Consider the Nkandla case, where the court addressed Jacob Zuma’s alleged failure to implement the Public Protector’s report on improper state spending at his homestead.
That matter was heard on 9 February 2016 and judgment was delivered just 51 days later, on 31 March 2016 — a swift resolution despite the case’s complexity and national significance, underscoring the court’s capacity to act decisively when executive overreach demanded it.
Similarly, the secret ballot ruling on the motion of no confidence against Zuma was expedited with remarkable efficiency.
Argued in May 2017, the court handed down its judgment on 22 June 2017, taking barely a month to clarify parliament’s powers in a case that directly implicated presidential oversight and democratic processes.
These precedents highlight the court’s ability to prioritise and resolve urgent constitutional questions without undue delay.
Yet, in the Phala Phala matter, the timeline has ballooned to more than 14 months with no end in sight.
This is not merely anomalous; it is unprecedented for a case of this gravity, where the facts are straightforward and the constitutional principles well established.
No other apex court judgment on presidential misconduct has ever taken this long in post-apartheid South Africa, raising inescapable questions about why this particular delay persists.
The pattern of inexplicable delays extends to other high-profile cases touching on accountability under the current administration.
The matter involving President Ramaphosa and the now former Public Protector, Advocate Busisiwe Mkhwebane, particularly her challenges to her suspension and the related impeachment processes, saw repeated litigation before the Constitutional Court, with judgments arriving after prolonged waits that frustrated proceedings and drew public criticism for inefficiency.
For instance, urgent applications and appeals in her suspension case were heard but delivery times stretched far beyond accepted norms, contributing to a drawn-out saga that ultimately ended in her removal after years of legal back and forth.
South Africans had to wait and wait, only to receive judgments that were subpar, favouring the president and overly deferential in parts, failing to resolve underlying issues decisively or swiftly.
Why could the court not process these matters more efficiently, especially when they involved critical questions of institutional integrity?
It appears that when the courts deal with matters involving Cyril Ramaphosa, they handle them with kid gloves, allowing inexplicable extensions that would be unacceptable in comparable cases.
Chief Justice Mandisa Maya’s assurances of no “sinister” motive and references to routine backlogs ring hollow against this backdrop.
Why does a case implicating the sitting president receive such extraordinary leniency, while precedents like Nkandla and the secret ballot demonstrate the court’s proven track record for timely justice?
This delay is not mere inefficiency; it is complicity. The same constitutional court that accused parliament of standing idle during state capture is today a vessel of inaction, even as parliament has effectively abrogated its role in holding the president accountable.
By withholding judgment for more than 14 months on a straightforward case, the Constitutional Court effectively places the president above scrutiny and the law. It fuels perceptions of judicial capture, erodes faith in the rule of law and allows elite impunity to thrive.
A constitutional court case hearing whether parliament fulfilled its constitutional obligation by rejecting a report that found prima facie evidence of violations of the constitution by a sitting president is of national importance.
The rule of law collapses when institutions bend to protect incumbents. This is precisely what the Phala Phala matter illustrates.
South Africans deserve better. The Constitutional Court must release the Phala Phala judgment immediately — no further excuses, no more protection through procrastination.
Failure to act now confirms the worst fears: that when it matters most, the judiciary prioritises power over principle.
Phala Phala will not fade until justice is delivered. The people demand it and the clock has run out.
Vuyo Zungula is a South African politician and former president of the African Transformation Movement (ATM)