Tshediso Mangope 

The other day, Xolani Khumalo was in court for confronting drug lords in townships where mothers cry themselves to sleep and children drown in drugs. There were no masses outside the court. No buses hired. No slogans, just silence. 

Yet when Julius Malema appeared in court for discharging a firearm at a rally, the streets were flooded by zealots who were mobilised in their thousands. Chanting revolutionary songs designed to turn the court precinct into a carnival of defiance. The whole town abounded with a cacophony of chants, although Malema fired his machine gun in a country already soaked in blood from guns. 

This is not about personalities but political psychology. It is about what moves us to action. We will mobilise for power. We will mobilise for spectacle. But when it comes to the slow violence destroying the black people, we retreat into our homes. 

In truth, this is a display that invites deeper reflection about our democratic culture. What is it about the political psyche of our society that makes us defend people like Malema and demonise crime fighters like Xolani? 

In any constitutional democracy, the rule of law derives its authority precisely from its insulation from the whims of popularity, political allegiance and social standing. Courts are designed to be sites of reasoned adjudication, where evidence is weighed dispassionately and justice is dispensed without fear or favour. 

When court processes are enveloped by crowds seeking to assert numerical political strength, there is a real risk that accountability gets diluted and justice is subjected to the pressures of public theatre. 

Our people’s uneven encounter with the rule of law, time and again, reveals itself most sharply when influential figures are called to account. Here at home, young people used to march in large numbers in support of Ace Magashule and even threatened to burn books in his defence. The question is not whether our people have the right to support political leaders but whether such support inadvertently undermines the very institutional architecture that sustains democratic order. 

More troubling still is the prospect of normalisation. In a society already burdened by widespread disregard for the law, the conduct of political elites carries a particular weight. When people who occupy prominent positions appear to treat the law with casual disdain, the message that regrettably gets transmitted is that rules are negotiable for the powerful. 

Leadership must not be defined by the ability to evade consequences, but by the discipline to submit oneself to the same standards expected of all. 

The persistent perception that South Africa operates with two legal systems, one for ordinary citizens and another for those endowed with political capital or material resources, does nothing but further corrode public confidence. 

Lengthy litigation and the mobilisation of supporters create an impression of impunity, even where courts ultimately act with integrity. For many people who encounter the law only as an instrument of punishment, such disparities easily deepen cynicism and weaken trust in democratic institutions. 

Those who hasten to defend unlawful conduct in the name of political loyalty would do well to interrogate the substance of their allegiance. History teaches us that progressive movements are not built on the uncritical worship of individuals, but on shared values and fidelity to principle. To excuse recklessness, as in the case of Malema, is not to advance a cause; it is to erode the moral foundations upon which that cause claims its legitimacy. 

If our country is to consolidate its democratic project and entrench a culture of constitutionalism; then accountability must truly be non-negotiable. True solidarity does not lie in shielding leaders from the consequences of their actions, but in insisting that they embody the restraint and respect for the law that democracy demands. 

Anything less places at risk not only the integrity of a single court process, but the ethical health of our country as a whole. 

In the meantime, Xolani remains a villain and Malema a hero before our eyes. 

*Tshediso Mangope is an ANC member in Mangaung and writes in his personal capacity…

** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect those of this publication (Journal News).