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After the 4 November local government elections, Julius Malema and Jacob Zuma may hold the balance of power in some of South Africa’s biggest and most economically important cities, writes Zukile Majova in Real Politics. 

That prospect should worry ratepayers, investors and political parties alike.

The Economic Freedom Fighters and uMkhonto weSizwe Party could jointly command between 20% and 25% in some contested councils. If neither the ANC nor the DA wins an outright majority, Malema and Zuma may be able to decide who becomes mayor, who controls the municipal budget and which parties receive the most powerful portfolios.

But the two men who could become the country’s most influential municipal kingmakers are potentially the worst coalition partners available.

Both lead highly centralised parties built around the authority and political fortunes of their founders. Neither organisation has a credible record of municipal government. Both favour aggressive populism over the compromises required to keep water flowing, repair roads, collect revenue and maintain investment-grade cities.

There is an alternative. The ANC and DA should take the cooperation they established in the Government of National Unity and extend it into hung municipalities.

The two parties disagree profoundly on transformation, economic policy, property rights and the role of the state. They will remain electoral rivals. But they share a basic commitment to constitutional government, institutional continuity and an economy capable of financing public services. That common ground is more important than ideological purity in municipalities approaching collapse.

After the 2021 election, 66 councils were hung. That number is unlikely to decline in November and may increase as MK, the Patriotic Alliance, the IFP, ActionSA and smaller parties fragment the vote further. At least five metros — Johannesburg, Tshwane, Ekurhuleni, eThekwini and Nelson Mandela Bay — are highly likely to be hung. Mangaung could join them.

These cities do not have another five years to waste.

Johannesburg has had eight mayors since 2019. Governments have been assembled and removed through deals involving parties with tiny electoral mandates. Kabelo Gwamanda became mayor despite Al Jama-ah holding only three of the council’s 270 seats. His appointment was not an expression of voters’ will. It was the result of larger parties being unable to agree on which of them should govern.

While politicians fought over positions, Johannesburg’s water, electricity and road infrastructure deteriorated. Residents were left with dry taps, collapsing traffic lights, power interruptions and rising municipal bills. Similar instability has affected Tshwane, Ekurhuleni and Nelson Mandela Bay. Mayors are removed before their programmes can be implemented. Municipal budgets become bargaining instruments in coalition negotiations.

This is not democracy working. It is fragmentation paralysing government.

The ANC and DA together could end most of this instability.

Based on their 2021 results, the two parties had a combined vote of approximately 60% in Johannesburg, 67% in Tshwane, 67% in Ekurhuleni, 68% in eThekwini, 79% in Nelson Mandela Bay and 76% in Mangaung. The numbers will shift in November, particularly in eThekwini where MK has reordered KwaZulu-Natal politics. But an ANC-DA combination will still command clear governing majorities in all six metros.

A simple principle could govern these coalitions: the party with the most council seats takes the mayoralty, while the second party receives the deputy mayoralty, speakership and a proportional share of portfolio positions. The agreement should not be renegotiated separately in every city behind closed doors. The parties should negotiate a national framework establishing transparent rules for municipalities where their combined vote produces a stable majority.

That framework should include a binding five-year programme, merit-based appointments, independent supply-chain controls, public performance targets and dispute-resolution procedures. Residents should know before they vote that an ANC-DA coalition would be based on the election result, not on secret negotiations over tenders and portfolios.

The Government of National Unity has already demonstrated the strategic value of this kind of cooperation. Whatever its internal tensions, it prevented national power from becoming dependent on either the EFF or MK after the 2024 election.

The same principle worked in KwaZulu-Natal. The IFP, ANC, DA and NFP combined to keep the provincial government functioning despite MK emerging as the largest party. Without that agreement, Zuma’s party would have used its 37 seats and its EFF alliance to dominate the province. Instead, the IFP’s Thami Ntuli became premier and a multiparty executive was formed around parties prepared to operate within the constitutional framework.

Municipalities need the same firewall.

This is not an argument that the EFF and MK should be excluded because their policies are radical. Voters who support them are entitled to representation. The danger lies in handing control of struggling cities to parties whose leadership cultures, policy promises and coalition conduct offer little assurance of stable administration.

The EFF has almost 1,000 councillors and commands roughly 10% of the vote, yet it has not won outright control of a single municipality. MK has never governed a municipality, province or national department under its own name. Its structures remain bound to Zuma’s personal authority, while many of its prominent figures emerged from the networks associated with the worst years of state capture.

An EFF-MK bloc could be large enough to bring down governments but not disciplined enough to run them.

The ANC and DA are not innocent bystanders in the municipal crisis. The ANC presided over cadre deployment, corruption and administrative decay in many councils. The DA has contributed to instability through rigid coalition management and an inability to sustain relationships with smaller partners.

An ANC-DA pact would work only if both abandoned the belief that cooperation requires the other party’s surrender. The ANC would have to accept professional administration, stronger financial controls and consequences for corruption. The DA would have to accept that transformation and the extension of services to historically neglected communities are central functions of municipal government, not optional ideological concessions.

Such an agreement would not end political competition. It would move that competition away from motions of no confidence and towards measurable performance. The party running the finance portfolio could be judged on revenue collection. The party responsible for infrastructure could be judged on water losses, road repairs and capital spending. Residents would finally be able to compare results.

Malema and Zuma may emerge from November as powerful kingmakers. But South Africa’s biggest cities should not be forced to depend on them.

The ANC and DA already possess the combined electoral mandate to govern these metros. Their duty is to use it.

A grand municipal coalition would be uncomfortable, argumentative and imperfect. But five years of predictable government would be vastly better than another term of collapsing coalitions, proxy mayors and political looting.

South Africa does not need another experiment in municipal chaos. It needs its two largest parties to accept that, in the country’s broken cities, stable government has become more important than permanent political warfare.

Zukile Majova and Rob Rose discuss whether an ANC-DA grand municipal coalition is realistic and what it would take to make it work in this week’s edition of Sharp Sharp, the podcast from Scrolla and Currency. Hear more from Zukile on the Sharp Sharp podcast, where he and Rob Rose unpack the week in South African politics every Wednesday.

Pictured above: Geordin Hill-Lewis and Cyril Ramaphosa. 

Image source: Geordin Hill-Lewis/X

Helen Zille is running the strongest campaign in Johannesburg, but she is not yet winning the coalition war, Zukile Majova writes in Real Politics. 

The DA can finish first on 4 November and still watch an ANC-led alliance elect the mayor. That is the paradox shaping Johannesburg’s municipal election. Winning the election and winning the mayoralty are no longer the same thing.

Coalition politics has changed everything.

Johannesburg is heading into another hung council. No single party appears capable of securing the 136 seats needed for an outright majority in the 270-seat council. The city’s next government will almost certainly be decided after election day, when parties begin negotiating behind closed doors.

The DA enters the race with momentum, but also with unfinished business.

In 2016, the party came within touching distance of taking Johannesburg outright after winning close to 480,000 votes. Five years later, that support had collapsed to about 240,000 proportional representation votes. Some voters stayed home. Many defected to Herman Mashaba’s ActionSA. Others drifted to smaller parties.

For Zille to achieve her ambition, the DA must recover much of that lost support. That means persuading former DA voters that returning to the party offers the best chance of changing Johannesburg’s fortunes, while expanding into communities where the party has historically struggled.

The DA’s biggest challenge is no longer defeating the ANC. It is rebuilding the broad coalition of voters that briefly made outright victory seem possible almost a decade ago.

The political landscape, however, has shifted dramatically since then.

The biggest new variable is Jacob Zuma’s uMkhonto weSizwe Party. MK did not exist during the 2021 local government elections. Yet in the 2024 provincial election, the party won more than 172,000 votes in Johannesburg, largely at the ANC’s expense.

At first glance, that appears to benefit the DA by weakening the ANC. But the reality is more complicated. Every new party in the council makes coalition negotiations more complex. MK may reduce the ANC’s vote share while simultaneously increasing the number of parties available for an anti-DA coalition after the election.

That is why this contest cannot be understood simply as a race between the DA and the ANC. It is a contest between competing coalition blocs.

The by-election results since 2021 reinforce this picture. The DA remains exceptionally strong in its traditional suburban heartlands, winning overwhelming majorities in wards across the northern suburbs. But outside those strongholds, progress has been harder.

The breakthrough in Evaton earlier this year, where the DA narrowly won a township ward in Emfuleni, suggested that the party can attract black working and middle-class voters frustrated by collapsing public services. But one victory does not signal a realignment. More telling is what has happened in Johannesburg itself. Despite holding its suburban base comfortably, the DA has not won a single Johannesburg by-election from another party since the 2021 municipal elections.

Another party has.

The Patriotic Alliance has quietly become one of the biggest winners of the coalition era, taking wards from both the ANC and the DA and steadily increasing its bargaining power. It may not emerge as one of Johannesburg’s largest parties. But in a fragmented council, even a handful of seats could determine who becomes mayor.

This is precisely why Zille’s task extends beyond campaigning. She must also convince potential coalition partners that a DA-led administration would be worth supporting.

That may prove more difficult than winning votes.

Relations between the DA and ActionSA remain strained after years of unstable coalition governments in Johannesburg and Tshwane. Smaller parties have frequently accused the DA of adopting a dominant approach to coalition management. Those tensions contributed to the revolving door of mayors that has characterised Johannesburg over the past five years.

The ANC has shown greater flexibility. Its alliances with the EFF, Al Jama-ah and smaller parties have often been unstable, but they have repeatedly achieved one objective: preventing the DA from governing South Africa’s biggest metros. MK now introduces another possible partner into that equation.

For the DA, therefore, becoming the biggest party may only be the first hurdle. The second is assembling a stable governing majority before its rivals do.

That brings the focus back to turnout.

The DA’s clearest route to power is not persuading large numbers of ANC supporters to switch. It is motivating former DA supporters who stayed away in 2021 to return to the polls. If those voters come back in significant numbers, the DA moves closer to governing. If they stay home, coalition arithmetic begins to favour everyone else.

Johannesburg’s election is often described as a referendum on service delivery. It is certainly that. Residents are living with failing infrastructure, water shortages, electricity interruptions and deteriorating roads.

But politically, this election is about something bigger.

It is a referendum on whether coalition politics can produce a stable government.

Zille is presenting herself as the experienced administrator who restored confidence in Cape Town and the Western Cape. Her campaign is built on competence rather than ideology. Whether that message resonates beyond the DA’s traditional support base remains the defining question of the campaign.

One thing already seems clear. Johannesburg is unlikely to produce a decisive winner. It will almost certainly produce a complicated negotiation. The DA could finish first. The ANC could finish second. MK could reshape the balance of power. The Patriotic Alliance and other smaller parties could become kingmakers.

When the votes are counted, the battle for Johannesburg may only just be beginning.

That is why Helen Zille can win the election and still lose City Hall.

Zukile Majova and Rob Rose go deeper on the Johannesburg race and what Helen Zille actually needs to win power in this week’s edition of Sharp Sharp, the podcast from Scrolla and Currency. Hear more from Zukile on the Sharp Sharp podcast, where he and Rob Rose unpack the week in South African politics every Wednesday.

Pictured above: Helen Zille. 

Image source: @Our_DA

South Africa has spent years regulating political donations. It has done almost nothing to regulate political influence. That blind spot may become the biggest threat to local democracy, writes Zukile Majova in Real Politics. 

Voters will go to the polls in November believing they are electing mayors, councils and local governments. But recent experience suggests that election day is no longer when power is decided. It is merely when the next round of negotiations begins.

The real contest increasingly takes place after the votes have been counted. It happens in hotels, boardrooms, private homes and lawyers’ offices, where coalition agreements are negotiated, mayoral candidates selected, executive positions allocated and political futures traded. The people sitting around those tables are often not councillors. Many have never stood for public office. Yet they can determine who governs South Africa’s largest cities.

That should worry every voter.

Johannesburg, Nelson Mandela Bay, Tshwane and Ekurhuleni have become synonymous with revolving-door mayors. Since the 2021 local government elections, these cities have cycled through multiple administrations as coalition agreements have collapsed and been rebuilt. The instability has become so familiar that South Africans have started treating it as normal politics. It is not. It is evidence that power is gradually moving away from elected institutions towards informal networks of negotiators, donors, advisers and political intermediaries who operate with almost no public accountability.

There is nothing wrong with lobbying itself. Every functioning democracy allows businesses, trade unions and civil society organisations to advocate for their interests. The problem is invisible influence.

Former politicians can move seamlessly into public affairs and advisory roles while retaining significant political influence. Coalition negotiators can help determine governments without disclosing who they represent beyond the parties in the room. That gap matters because politics has changed.

The watershed moment came with the ANC’s 2017 leadership contest.

The CR17 campaign fundamentally changed the business model of internal South African politics. Reports at the time placed the campaign’s fundraising at over R200 million — unprecedented in an ANC leadership race. Who assembled that network? Which business leaders encouraged others to contribute? What expectations accompanied those donations? Ramaphosa’s consistent position has been that campaign structures deliberately insulated him from direct knowledge of many donors. That may have been intended to avoid conflicts of interest. But it also illustrates a deeper democratic problem. If a candidate does not know who is financing the campaign that will make him president, who is responsible for ensuring those financiers do not expect privileged access afterwards?

This extends well beyond the ANC.

The Democratic Alliance has built its political identity around transparency and clean governance. Yet it too is confronting uncomfortable questions about informal power. The public disagreement between John Steenhuisen and Geordin Hill-Lewis over an alleged understanding concerning Steenhuisen’s future after the leadership contest is significant not because private political agreements are illegal, but because they raise questions about how leadership decisions are reached. If major political agreements are negotiated privately before delegates vote, how should members know whether leadership contests remain genuinely open?

The debate surrounding former DA leader Tony Leon points to an even broader challenge. Leon remains one of South Africa’s most influential political figures and played an important role in negotiating the DA’s participation in the Government of National Unity. He also chairs a public affairs firm representing commercial clients. Leon has strongly denied any improper conduct and there is no evidence he has acted unlawfully. But the institutional question remains. Should South Africa have clearer rules governing former political leaders who retain political influence while representing private interests seeking government decisions?

These are not questions about individual integrity. They are questions about institutional design.

The problem becomes most acute in coalition politics. Hung councils have created an entirely new political marketplace. Every fractured council produces demand for negotiators, strategists, lawyers and intermediaries capable of bringing parties together or pulling them apart. Business forums seeking procurement influence, politically connected contractors, factional organisers and private advisers all have reasons to remain close to coalition negotiations. Most act entirely within the law. Yet the public seldom knows who participated in discussions that ultimately determine who becomes mayor or who controls billion-rand municipal budgets.

South Africa should not criminalise lobbying. The government benefits from hearing business, labour and civil society perspectives. But transparency must catch up with political reality.

South Africans know how to remove a councillor, a mayor or a Member of Parliament through elections. They have no equivalent mechanism for removing the unelected people who increasingly help decide who occupies those offices.

That is why the local government elections matter far beyond who wins Johannesburg or Tshwane.

The larger question is whether elections still determine who governs or whether they merely begin a second, largely invisible contest in which political influence and private negotiations ultimately outweigh the will of voters.

If that second contest remains unregulated, South Africa risks producing leaders who do not arrive in office captured by private interests after taking power. They may arrive already carrying political obligations accumulated long before the first ballot is cast.

That is not simply a problem for one party. It is becoming one of the defining governance challenges of South African democracy.

Zukile Majova and Rob Rose go deeper on South Africa’s coalition crisis and who is really pulling the strings in this week’s edition of Sharp Sharp, the podcast from Scrolla and Currency. Hear more from Zukile on the Sharp Sharp podcast, where he and Rob Rose unpack the week in South African politics every Wednesday.

Pictured above: An empty council chamber. 

Image source: ActionSA

As South Africa edges toward another flashpoint over immigration, one uncomfortable truth cannot be ignored. The loudest anger is not coming from the leafy suburbs of Cape Town, Durban and Sandton, writes Zukile Majova in Real Politics. 

The loudest noise is coming from townships and villages where unemployment is high, public services are collapsing and every opportunity feels like a fight for survival.

For many poor South Africans, immigration is not an abstract political debate. It is something they experience every day.

Walk through many townships in Johannesburg, Durban or Cape Town and the pattern is clear. Foreign nationals are heavily represented in spaza shops, informal trading, delivery services, e-hailing and hospitality. Around mining communities, illegal mining syndicates — many involving foreign nationals — have brought violence, extortion and fear.

Whether every perception is accurate is almost beside the point. These communities are responding to what they see in front of them, while the state appears unable or unwilling to enforce its own immigration laws.

The people least affected by this reality are often the quickest to dismiss it. Families in affluent suburbs are not competing for entry-level jobs, RDP houses, places in overcrowded public schools or space in government clinics. Their children attend private schools. They use private healthcare. Their security is paid for. Immigration is largely an intellectual debate for them.

For township residents it is not a debate. It is a daily reality.

Every day they stand in longer queues at clinics. They compete for casual work that disappears within minutes. They watch small businesses struggle against fierce competition. They live in overcrowded settlements where housing shortages worsen every year.

The frustration grows because many South Africans believe the rules are not being enforced.

South Africa allows many visitors to enter legally for limited periods. Most comply with the law. But others overstay their permits or work without the authorisation required by law. Weak enforcement, corruption and slow immigration systems mean many remain in the country for years. A legal arrival becomes an illegal stay, while employers willing to ignore the law gain access to cheaper labour.

Universities face similar pressure. Every year thousands of South African matriculants spend one or two years trying to secure a place because there are simply not enough spaces. When people believe immigration rules are not being enforced properly, it fuels the perception that citizens are being pushed to the back of the queue.

Crime deepens those fears. Most foreign nationals are law-abiding people trying to earn a living. But criminal syndicates involved in illegal mining, drug trafficking, counterfeit goods and human trafficking have damaged public confidence. Communities near illegal mining operations have seen armed gangs take control of entire areas while the state struggles to respond.

South Africans are often told these concerns amount to xenophobia. That is too simple.

Violence against foreign nationals is wrong. Innocent people should never be attacked because of where they were born. But rejecting violence does not mean pretending there is no problem. A country has both the right and the responsibility to control its borders, enforce its immigration laws and decide who may live and work within them.

South Africa has failed on all three counts.

For years the government has spoken about Pan-African solidarity while allowing corruption, weak border management and a broken asylum system to undermine public confidence. Instead of fixing those failures, politicians too often dismiss public anger as ignorance or prejudice. That response has only widened the gap between government and the communities carrying the greatest burden.

South Africa is not alone in wrestling with these tensions. Across Europe, immigration has become one of the defining political issues of our time. In the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Italy and the Netherlands, voters have backed parties promising tougher immigration laws. Concerns about pressure on jobs, housing, healthcare and public services — alongside organised crime — have driven that shift. South Africa’s circumstances are far more severe because unemployment and poverty are so much higher. But the underlying question is the same: how do you manage immigration in a way that is lawful, orderly and fair to citizens and arrivals alike?

The answer to South Africa’s crisis is not mob justice. It is not intimidation or attacks on foreign nationals.

It is a government that finally enforces its own laws. That means secure borders, faster decisions on asylum applications, action against visa overstayers, deportation of those who remain unlawfully, prosecution of employers who hire illegal workers and a determined fight against corruption inside the Department of Home Affairs.

Most of all, it means recognising that poor South Africans are not imagining the pressures they face.

The rich experience immigration as a political argument. The poor experience it as another queue, another missed job, another overcrowded classroom and another day wondering whether their own government still puts its citizens first.

Until the state regains control of its immigration system, that frustration will only continue to grow.

Zukile Majova and Rob Rose go deeper on South Africa’s immigration crisis and what the government must actually do about it in this week’s edition of Sharp Sharp, the podcast from Scrolla and Currency. Hear more from Zukile on the Sharp Sharp podcast, where he and Rob Rose unpack the week in South African politics every Wednesday.

Pictured above: A queue outside a Home Affairs office. 

Image source: Democratic Alliance

You may have noticed last week’s Real Politics column arrived on a Monday. That was no accident. From now on, Zukile Majova’s weekly column will land every Monday morning.

Geordin Hill-Lewis may have inherited the most important job in South African opposition politics, writes Zukile Majova in Real Politics. 

The Cape Town mayor’s election as Federal Leader of the Democratic Alliance comes at a decisive moment for the party and the country. At 39, he could lead the DA through the next two election cycles, including the 4 November 2026 local government elections and the 2029 national election.

His challenge is easy to describe but hard to solve: how does the DA turn anger with the ANC into votes for itself?

For more than a decade, South Africa’s largest opposition party has been stuck in a narrow band. It won 22.2% of the national vote in 2014, 20.8% in 2019 and 21.8% in 2024. Over the same period, the ANC fell sharply from 57.5% in 2019 to just over 40% in 2024. On paper, this should have been the DA’s moment. In practice, it was not.

The ANC’s losses flowed elsewhere. The EFF built a national base. The MK Party surged in KwaZulu-Natal. The Patriotic Alliance grew in coloured communities. ActionSA appealed to urban voters who wanted change but were not ready to vote DA.

The lesson is uncomfortable. South Africans who are unhappy with the ANC do not automatically choose the DA.

This is the puzzle Hill-Lewis must solve.

For years, the DA believed good governance would eventually overcome voter scepticism. It built its brand around clean administration, infrastructure, financial discipline and fighting corruption. In Cape Town and the Western Cape, that approach has produced durable electoral success. But competence has not become broad national appeal.

Many voters respect DA-run governments while remaining reluctant to vote for the party. That suggests the main obstacle is not policy. It is identity, trust and belonging.

The DA still faces a perception problem among many black South Africans who do not see it as a party that naturally represents their interests. Whether fair or not, that remains one of its biggest barriers to growth.

Hill-Lewis enters this role aware of that reality — and aware that he personally embodies many of the qualities critics associate with the DA. He is white, English-speaking and from Cape Town. Those qualities have helped him as mayor. National politics demands more.

Modern voters want leaders who connect emotionally as well as intellectually. South Africa has repeatedly rewarded those who make voters feel seen. Nelson Mandela did it with grace and moral authority. Jacob Zuma did it through cultural fluency and accessibility. Gayton McKenzie has turned personality into political capital.

Hill-Lewis is respected for discipline, intelligence and administrative ability. To break the DA’s ceiling, he needs to become a different kind of political figure — as comfortable in Soweto, Umlazi and Mdantsane as in Cape Town’s suburbs and boardrooms. That is not about image management. It is about trust.

His recent visit to King Misuzulu kaZwelithini was therefore more than a courtesy call. It signalled an understanding that culture, identity and traditional leadership remain powerful forces in South African politics. KwaZulu-Natal will be among the fiercest electoral battlegrounds in the 2026 local government elections. The DA cannot grow there without building relationships with communities that look to traditional leaders for guidance.

The same applies to powerful religious institutions. Churches such as the ZCC, the Methodist Church of Southern Africa and the Nazareth Baptist Church command enormous influence in communities the DA wants to reach. Engagement with them should not be treated as theatre. It is a recognition of the social networks that shape public opinion.

Consistency will be the test. One visit to a king makes headlines. Building lasting relationships with traditional leaders, churches and rural voters is what persuades sceptics that the DA is serious about becoming a truly national party.

The second test is coalition politics.

Since the 2021 local government elections, the DA’s coalition record has been mixed. Johannesburg, Tshwane and Ekurhuleni became warnings rather than showcases. Mayors came and went. Alliances collapsed. Public trust in coalition governance weakened. Hill-Lewis may need a different coalition philosophy. The age of smaller parties simply falling in line behind a dominant partner is ending. Successful coalitions will require negotiation, patience and long-term relationship building.

The Government of National Unity has reinforced this lesson. Imperfect as it is, it has shown that voters and markets respond positively when rivals cooperate to provide stability.

The third challenge lies closer to home. The Patriotic Alliance has expanded among coloured voters, a constituency that formed part of the DA’s electoral backbone. Its growth may not immediately threaten DA control of Cape Town, but it has introduced a new competitive dynamic. Political dominance often erodes slowly before it collapses suddenly. Hill-Lewis cannot only chase new voters. He must defend existing support.

Ultimately, his success will not be measured by whether he protects the DA’s traditional 20% base. It will be measured by whether he expands it.

The path to 25% or 30% national support is unlikely to come from converting loyal ANC voters. It will come from younger voters, urban professionals, first-time voters and politically homeless South Africans who are dissatisfied with every major party. That requires a broader offer.

The DA has spent years explaining why the ANC is failing. Hill-Lewis must now explain why the DA understands the aspirations of a changing South Africa.

He has time, a Cape Town record and a long political runway. What remains uncertain is whether he can persuade dissatisfied voters that the DA is not just an alternative government, but a political home.

That question will shape his legacy — and South Africa’s political future.

Zukile Majova and Rob Rose go deeper on the DA’s leadership change and what Geordin Hill-Lewis must do to break the party’s 20% ceiling in this week’s edition of Sharp Sharp, the podcast from Scrolla and Currency. Hear more from Zukile on the Sharp Sharp podcast, where he and Rob Rose unpack the week in South African politics every Wednesday.

Pictured above: Geordin Hill-Lewis. 

Image source: @Our_DA

Every year South Africans commemorate June 16 by remembering the courage of the young people who challenged apartheid’s education system in 1976, writes Zukile Majova in Real Politics.

Their struggle was fundamentally about education. They rejected an inferior system designed to limit their opportunities and determine their future before they had even entered adulthood.

Nearly 50 years later and more than 30 years into democracy, perhaps the most important question is this: if the youth of 1976 were marching today, what would they demand?

The answer would probably unite South Africans more than divide them.

They would demand decent schools. They would demand skills. They would demand jobs. They would demand a fair chance to build a life of dignity.

That is why President Cyril Ramaphosa has an important opportunity when he delivers his June 16 message.

He should not allow Youth Day to become another predictable government event filled with old slogans, wreaths and political speeches.

He should use it to challenge South Africans to focus on the next great task facing the nation.

The struggle of 1976 was against political and educational exclusion. The struggle facing today’s youth is economic exclusion.

Youth unemployment does not ask whether you are black, white, coloured or Indian. A weak education system does not hurt one political party. A shortage of skills damages the whole economy. A lack of opportunity affects families and communities across the country.

The Soweto uprising helped expose the cruelty of Bantu Education and gave new energy to the fight against apartheid.

Today, Youth Day should focus our attention on a different challenge: building a country that works for its young people.

This year’s Youth Month theme is “Skills for a Changing World – Empowering Youth for Meaningful Economic Participation.”

That theme speaks to an uncomfortable truth. South Africa’s greatest challenge is no longer political liberation. It is economic inclusion.

Ramaphosa has an opportunity to place that challenge at the centre of the national conversation.

For too long, June 16 has been treated mainly as a day of remembrance. There is nothing wrong with remembering Hector Pieterson and the bravery of the Soweto generation. A nation must honour those who paid the highest price for freedom.

But remembrance is not enough.

We spend too much time looking back and too little time asking whether today’s young people are receiving the education, skills and opportunities that the youth of 1976 died for.

Nelson Mandela saw education as the most powerful weapon to change society. Archbishop Desmond Tutu believed education should build human dignity and help create a just and united nation.

Neither leader would have wanted Youth Day to become a day of empty ceremony.

They would have expected South Africans to ask whether our schools are preparing young people to succeed in the modern world.

That question forces us to confront a reality we often avoid.

Public schools remain divided by geography, language, class and history. Apartheid ended in 1994, but children still experience very different educational realities depending on where they live and where they were born.

This is not an attack on individual schools.

It is a reflection of a country that remains deeply unequal.

The generation of 1976 protested against exclusion from quality education. The generation of today faces unequal access to quality education.

That is why education reform must be treated as part of nation-building.

The Basic Education Laws Amendment Act will not solve every problem. No single law can. But if implemented fairly, it should help South Africa move towards a public education system that serves the broader public interest.

Children who learn together are more likely to build a shared future together.

That is why June 16 should become a day when young South Africans campaign together around common causes.

Schools, universities, youth organisations, businesses and government departments should use Youth Day to drive national campaigns around literacy, mathematics, coding, entrepreneurship, school safety, infrastructure and employment.

Imagine if young South Africans from every community marched together for better schools, safer communities and more jobs.

That would honour the spirit of 1976 better than another round of political point-scoring.

There is also another uncomfortable truth.

For many young South Africans, Youth Day has become just another public holiday. Across townships and suburbs, thousands spend the day drinking, partying and gathering on street corners.

There is nothing wrong with celebration. Young people deserve joy.

But June 16 was never meant to be just another day off.

The youth of 1976 marched for a purpose bigger than themselves. They organised around a common cause. They believed they could shape the future of the country.

Today’s youth face different challenges, but the need for purpose remains the same.

Millions of young South Africans wake up with no job to go to, no training programme to attend and little hope that their lives will change.

A young person with no work, no training and no prospects can easily lose hope. They can be recruited into violent protests that do not serve their interests. They can be manipulated by politicians looking for numbers instead of solutions. They can be pulled into alcohol abuse, drugs and crime.

This is not because young people have failed South Africa.

It is because South Africa has not created enough pathways into opportunity.

The rise of xenophobic violence in some communities should also worry us. Too often, unemployed young people are encouraged to direct their anger at fellow Africans instead of the conditions that create poverty, exclusion and unemployment.

The youth of 1976 fought discrimination and injustice. Their legacy should never be used to justify hatred of others.

South Africa needs to rethink what Youth Day is for.

Ramaphosa can lead that change.

He should challenge the country to turn June 16 into a national day of service, learning, mentoring and community-building.

He should ask businesses to open doors for first-time workers. He should ask schools and universities to connect young people with practical skills. He should encourage communities to work together across race, class and nationality.

South Africa does not need another revolution against oppression.

It needs a revolution of opportunity.

The youth of 1976 changed the country’s political future.

The task now is to help the youth of today change its economic future.

That would be a Youth Day worthy of their sacrifice.

Pictured above: Youths confront and mock state authorities during the 1976 Soweto Uprising. The photograph captures the intense cross-generational tension and defiance that characterized the student resistance against Bantu Education.

Image source: Sourced via SouthAfrica-Info / Historical Archival Collection. Used under Fair Dealing provisions for educational and historical news reporting.

The people of Emfuleni face a simple question when they go to the polls on 4 November 2026: if life has become harder over the past decade, why keep voting the same way? Asks Zukile Majova in Real Politics. 

This is not a question about loyalty. It is a question about results.

For years, residents of the Vaal have watched the decline of one of South Africa’s most important industrial regions. Once a symbol of industrial strength and working class opportunity, Emfuleni is now associated with sewage spills, water outages, collapsing infrastructure and rising unemployment. The Vaal Triangle was built on steel, engineering and manufacturing. 

Those industries created jobs and sustained families in Vereeniging, Vanderbijlpark, Sebokeng, Evaton, Sharpeville and Boipatong. Today many residents feel trapped between rising costs and shrinking opportunities. Businesses battle unreliable services. Roads deteriorate while infrastructure buckles under years of neglect. Young people search for jobs that no longer exist.

The November election gives voters an opportunity to change that trajectory.

Across South Africa, voters are showing political parties that support can no longer be taken for granted. The ANC’s own 2024 annual report illustrates the shift. In by-elections held since the 2021 local government elections, the party won just under 44% of the 322 wards contested and suffered a net loss of 38 wards to opposition parties. More than half of those losses went to the IFP. Nine went to the EFF, three to the MK Party, one to the DA and the rest to independents and smaller parties.

The significance is not simply that the ANC is losing support. It is that voters are increasingly willing to change their minds.

That trend is now visible in Emfuleni.

In May, Ward 28 in Evaton West delivered one of the most significant by-election results in Gauteng. Community leader Maki Emily Tshabalala won the ward for the DA by just eight votes.

Eight votes.

The importance of that result lies not in the margin but in the location. Ward 28 is not a traditional DA stronghold. It is a township ward where the ANC historically enjoyed deep support. For the DA to win, long-standing ANC voters had to decide that something different was worth trying.

Voters are becoming less interested in party labels and more interested in performance. Residents know who attends community meetings. They know who responds when water is cut off. They know who is visible when the local government fails. The Ward 28 result suggests they are beginning to reward local leadership and punish poor performance.

That should concern every political party.

The lesson is not that the DA is guaranteed success. Nor does one by-election mean Emfuleni has suddenly become opposition territory. The lesson is that voters have become more demanding. Communities want councillors they know, trust and can hold accountable. They want competence rather than slogans and delivery rather than excuses.

That conversation is now taking place across the Vaal.

The DA governs Midvaal Municipality, which has long stood apart from many neighbouring municipalities. Whether voters agree with the party nationally or not, Midvaal has become part of a wider conversation about what effective local government looks like.

For decades, liberation history shaped voting behaviour across the Vaal. That history remains important and deserves respect. But history cannot repair a sewage treatment plant. History cannot fix a pothole. History cannot create a job. Only an effective government can do that.

The key question facing voters on 4 November is not which party they have always supported. It is which candidates and parties are most likely to improve life in their communities.

Better governance will not solve every problem overnight. But it creates the conditions for growth. Investors come where infrastructure works. Businesses expand where services are reliable. Jobs appear where municipalities function properly.

The future of the Vaal depends on restoring confidence that Emfuleni can work again.

The Ward 28 result was not simply a victory for one candidate or one party. It was a reminder that voters remain the most powerful force in South African politics. Whether voters ultimately choose the ANC, DA, EFF, ActionSA, the MK Party or independents matters less than the message they send.

That message is simple: performance matters.

The people of Emfuleni have spent years living with the consequences of poor governance. On 4 November, they have an opportunity to demand something different. If enough voters decide that their future matters more than old political habits, this election could mark the moment the people of the Vaal decided to reclaim their municipality — and their future.

Click here to listen to Zukile and Rob Rose go deeper on this story and more in this week’s edition of the Sharp Sharp podcast.

Pictured above: Maki Emily Tshabalala talking to voters. 

Image source: DA Gauteng

South Africans can no longer afford to view Phala Phala as a private matter involving a private businessman. Whatever happened at President Cyril Ramaphosa’s game farm in Limpopo has grown far beyond the theft of foreign currency hidden in furniture, writes Zukile Majova in Real Politics.

The scandal now sits at the centre of the country’s political and economic future because it has consumed the presidency, weakened the credibility of the reform project, delayed the rebuilding of key state institutions and introduced uncertainty into the Government of National Unity (GNU), which many South Africans viewed as the country’s last realistic chance of economic recovery.

The Constitutional Court’s decision in May 2026 to reopen the impeachment process against Ramaphosa has transformed what many hoped was a fading controversy into a renewed political crisis.

The ruling has revived difficult questions about accountability, transparency and leadership. More importantly, it has ensured that South Africa’s political conversation remains focused on the president’s survival rather than the country’s recovery.

That is the real cost of Phala Phala.

The scandal is damaging not simply because of the allegations themselves, but because it strikes directly at the reason Ramaphosa became president.

When Jacob Zuma left office, South Africa was not looking for another politician. It was looking for a repairman. The country was emerging from a decade of state capture that had hollowed out institutions, damaged investor confidence and weakened public trust in government. Ramaphosa was presented as the leader who would restore integrity to public office, rebuild institutions and reconnect South Africa with investors who had become increasingly sceptical about the country’s future.

His greatest political asset was credibility. Investors, business leaders and many South Africans trusted him.

The promise of the New Dawn was built on that trust. Phala Phala has steadily eroded it.

For almost five years, the scandal has hung over the presidency. Every court application, parliamentary battle and political confrontation has pulled attention away from the work of governing. Instead of focusing on economic growth, infrastructure, job creation and institutional reform, South Africa has repeatedly found itself dragged back into questions about what happened on a farm in Limpopo.

The opportunity cost has been enormous.

South Africa is still rebuilding after state capture. Law enforcement agencies need strengthening, state owned companies require reform, municipalities need fixing and unemployment remains stubbornly high.

Instead, political energy has increasingly been diverted towards managing the fallout from Phala Phala.

Whether one believes Ramaphosa is guilty of wrongdoing is becoming secondary to the larger problem. The presidency has become distracted and increasingly consumed by self preservation.

That is the uncomfortable parallel with the Zuma years.

Both presidencies became increasingly defined by legal battles and political survival.

For much of the last two decades, South Africans have watched national priorities compete with the personal legal problems of sitting presidents. Ramaphosa was supposed to represent the end of that era.

Instead, there is now a growing risk that the final years of his political career will also be dominated by litigation, impeachment proceedings and arguments about accountability.

Many South Africans expected him to restore dignity to the government and close the chapter on one of the darkest periods in democratic South Africa’s history.

Today, he is no longer widely viewed as a leader standing above factional battles. He is increasingly seen as a politician fighting for his own survival.

That shift has consequences far beyond his personal reputation.

South Africa needs investment to grow the economy and create jobs. Investment depends on confidence, confidence depends on stability and stability depends on trusted leadership.

Every new twist in the Phala Phala saga weakens that chain.

The danger now extends beyond Ramaphosa and the ANC.

The GNU has become a critical pillar of investor optimism and public hope. For millions of unemployed South Africans, it represented hope that the government could focus on growth, infrastructure, corruption and jobs.

Yet 2026 is also a municipal election year, when political attention should be focused on fixing local government.

Political parties should be debating how to fix collapsing municipalities, improve service delivery, attract investment and create jobs. Voters should be hearing plans to repair roads, fix water systems, maintain infrastructure and restore local government.

Instead, the national conversation is once again being dominated by scandal, court battles and political survival.

Failing municipalities are where South Africans experience government most directly. It is where taps run dry, potholes go unrepaired, refuse remains uncollected and businesses struggle to operate.

When municipalities fail, quality of life declines. When municipalities work, local economies grow and jobs follow.

Yet political energy that should be focused on fixing local government is increasingly being absorbed by the fallout from Phala Phala.

As the impeachment process gathers momentum, difficult questions are emerging. Can a president fighting for political survival still drive reforms? Will coalition partners remain united if the crisis deepens? Can the government maintain its focus on economic priorities while political leaders become consumed by legal battles?

These are questions investors dislike and unemployed South Africans cannot afford.

When investment decisions are delayed, jobs are delayed. When political uncertainty increases, economic growth slows. When the government focuses on survival, reform suffers.

The people who ultimately pay the price are not politicians in Parliament.

They are young people looking for their first job, small business owners struggling to expand and communities waiting for better services and economic opportunities.

Phala Phala can no longer be dismissed as a private matter.

It has become a symbol of a political system once again consumed by scandal when South Africans need delivery.

The deepest tragedy is not what happened on a game farm in Limpopo.

The tragedy is that South Africa once again finds itself trapped in a politics of scandal when it should be focused on a politics of delivery.

While politicians fight over Phala Phala, millions of South Africans are still waiting for working municipalities, economic growth, jobs and the better life they were promised.

Pictured above: President Cyril Ramaphosa. The Constitutional Court reopened the Phala Phala impeachment process in May 2026, renewing questions about accountability and the future of his presidency.

Image source: The Presidency of the Republic of South Africa

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Zukile Majova and Rob Rose dig into the week that shook the presidency. Ramaphosa has filed his affidavit to set aside the Phala Phala impeachment report, but the saga looks set to drag well past November. ANC elders are breaking ranks, caretaker presidents are circling and the succession whispers are getting louder.

Helen Zille is running a smart campaign for mayor of Johannesburg because she refuses to turn the election into an ideological fight, writes Zukile Majova in Real Politics.

When asked about the Democratic Alliance’s position on Israel and Gaza, Zille refused to be dragged into a foreign policy debate.

“I’m fighting to be mayor of Joburg, not Ramallah, or Bethlehem, or Tehran, or Gaza City, or Tel Aviv. I’m focusing on fixing Joburg.”

That answer captures what many voters increasingly care about.

Johannesburg residents are living with broken traffic lights, potholes, sewage spills, water shortages and collapsing infrastructure. Most are less interested in ideological battles than whether their taps work and rubbish gets collected.

Zille understands this political reality.

Her campaign is focused almost entirely on service delivery and governance. She wants voters to judge parties by whether they can run municipalities properly, not by who makes the loudest ideological arguments.

Across South Africa, local government is becoming the real test of political credibility. Voters are growing impatient with parties that speak about liberation, revolution and ideology while municipalities collapse around them.

Parliament’s recent “Taking Parliament to the People” programme in North West exposed just how serious the crisis has become.

Members of Parliament heard repeated complaints about sewage flowing through communities, roads destroyed by potholes, unfinished housing projects, clinics without medicine and failing electricity infrastructure.

These problems may not dominate national political debates, but they define daily life for millions of South Africans.

President Cyril Ramaphosa captured the importance of local government in his address.

“Local government is the engine room of development. It is where national policies and provincial programmes are translated into action. Local government is critical in ensuring that people have water and sanitation, electricity, roads, clinics and community services.

“When local government works, when municipalities are well managed and deliver on their mandates, cities, towns and villages thrive. That is why fixing local government is among the foremost priorities of this administration.”

Ramaphosa is correct.

The problem is that many municipalities governed by the ANC are failing badly.

The City of Johannesburg is locked in a dispute with Eskom over a R5,2-billion debt. Across the country, municipalities and government departments owe Eskom more than R100-billion.

This collapse in local governance is reshaping South African politics.

For years, the ANC relied on liberation history and struggle credentials to soften public anger over poor service delivery. That protection is fading fast.

Voters now care less about ideology and more about competence.

They want working streetlights, clean water, reliable electricity, safe roads and functioning clinics.

The 2024 national election showed the political cost of failing municipalities. Poor service delivery played a major role in the ANC losing its parliamentary majority.

The pressure will intensify ahead of the 2026 local government elections.

Coalition politics has made matters even more complicated.

Many councils have become unstable. Mayors are removed regularly. Coalition agreements collapse overnight. Political parties attack one another in public and negotiate power deals behind closed doors.

Gauteng has become the clearest example of this new political era.

Cooperation between the ANC and the EFF, once politically unthinkable, is becoming more common in some municipalities. At the same time, the rise of the uMkhonto Wesizwe Party is forcing every major party to rethink its strategy.

South Africa is entering a more transactional political age where ideology matters less than assembling enough votes to govern.

But voters are not rewarding political manoeuvring. They are judging governments by visible results.

The growing number of smaller political parties adds another layer of instability. Fragmentation allows smaller parties to become kingmakers with influence far bigger than their electoral support.

This creates a dangerous paradox. South African democracy is becoming more representative, but potentially less governable.

The metros will become the country’s biggest political stress test in 2026. They will show whether coalition politics can evolve beyond deal-making into something capable of delivering stable governance.

Citizens do not experience coalition agreements or political renewal as abstract concepts. They experience government through broken roads, dry taps, dark streets and collapsing clinics.

Another growing feature of South Africa’s political climate is frustration over illegal immigration. In many struggling communities, immigrants compete with poor South Africans in the same informal economies, housing markets and low-income spaces.

As unemployment rises, resentment also grows.

But immigration is not the real cause of the anger.

The deeper problem is the collapse of local governance and economic opportunity. Where municipalities fail, social tensions grow.

Better functioning municipalities could ease much of this pressure. Efficient local government attracts investment, maintains infrastructure, improves safety and creates conditions for economic growth.

Reliable electricity, cleaner streets, functioning transport systems and faster service delivery increase business confidence in communities that currently feel abandoned.

That is why Zille’s strategy matters politically.

She is betting that Johannesburg voters are tired of ideological battles and want practical leadership focused on fixing the city.

Whether voters agree with her or not, her campaign reflects a broader national mood.

South Africans increasingly care less about political slogans and more about whether government can perform its most basic duties.

Listen to Zukile Majova and Rob Rose as they discuss the week’s trending topics on the latest episode of Sharp Sharp, the podcast from Scrolla and Currency. Find Sharp Sharp wherever you get your podcasts.

Pictured above: Helen Zille swimming in a pothole in Johannesburg, where is campaigning for the mayoral position.

Image source: Helen Zille/Facebook Page

This article has been updated.

Cyril Ramaphosa is still standing not because he is unbeatable. He is standing because he is the main meal ticket for too many powerful people in the ANC, writes Zukile Majova in Real Politics. 

That reality became clear again after the Constitutional Court ruling on the Phala Phala matter. The ANC National Executive Committee quickly rallied behind him instead of questioning his future.

This is very different from what happened to Thabo Mbeki in 2008 and Jacob Zuma in 2018. Both men were removed when the party believed it could survive without them. Ramaphosa’s position is different.

Much of the current ANC leadership rose through the CR17 campaign that carried him to victory at Nasrec in 2017. Many ministers, premiers, deputy ministers, mayors and NEC members did not build strong independent support bases. They advanced as part of Ramaphosa’s political machine. Their futures became tied to his.

If Ramaphosa falls, many of them fall too.

That is why the NEC no longer behaves like an independent structure capable of disciplining a president from a distance. It is filled with leaders whose influence depends on remaining inside the Ramaphosa coalition. In many ways, he has become the glue holding together an increasingly fragile patronage network.

Mbeki was recalled after losing control of the party at Polokwane. Zuma was pushed out when state capture scandals became an electoral threat before 2019. Ramaphosa survives because many fear the party may not survive without him.

But this political protection comes with a price.

Ramaphosa entered office promising a new dawn built on accountability and clean government. Yet several people linked to scandals exposed at the Zondo Commission remain influential in government and the party. Figures associated with Bosasa and the VBS Mutual Bank scandal continue to cast a shadow over his administration.

Every time a compromised official survives politically, the public sees another example of the ANC protecting its own. The same alliances keeping Ramaphosa in office also limit how far he can act against corruption.

His importance now stretches beyond his party.

After the ANC’s poor 2024 election performance, the Government of National Unity became a survival pact. Ramaphosa’s moderate image and business background made him the only ANC leader acceptable enough to opposition parties like the DA. Without him, the coalition could become unstable very quickly.

That is why coalition politics are now shaping decisions inside government.

The DA recently showed its growing influence when it pushed for action against Social Development Minister Sisisi Tolashe over allegations surrounding her conduct. The ANC itself showed little appetite to move against her. Yet pressure from coalition partners forced Ramaphosa to respond.

That moment sent a clear message. The DA wanted proof it could influence government decisions inside the coalition. It got that proof. The precedent now exists for coalition partners to demand action against other compromised ministers.

Ramaphosa also remains the ANC’s strongest national campaign figure heading into the 2026 local government elections. In a fractured political landscape, he still offers a level of stability and international credibility few others inside the party can match.

The ANC is protecting Ramaphosa for the same reason passengers protect a leaking lifeboat during a storm. They are already inside it.

That is the real difference between Ramaphosa and his predecessors.

Mbeki was removed because the party believed it could renew itself without him. Zuma was removed because the party feared it would collapse with him. Ramaphosa survives because today’s ANC fears it may not survive without him at all.

But this is not sustainable.

A leader protected mainly because he is everyone’s political meal ticket cannot drive deep reform or ruthless accountability. The alliances that protect him are the same alliances preventing meaningful renewal.

South Africans deserve more than stability built on patronage and selective accountability. Real renewal will only come when the ANC moves beyond factional slates and political dependency, and rebuilds itself around competence, integrity and accountability.

Until then, Ramaphosa will remain exactly where he is. Protected not by invincibility, but by the number of political careers tied to his survival.

Zukile Majova and Rob Rose go deeper on the Phala Phala ruling and why Ramaphosa is not going anywhere in this week’s episode of Sharp Sharp, the podcast from Scrolla and Currency. They also discuss what a Ramaphosa presidency is actually worth and what comes next for the ANC. Find Sharp Sharp wherever you get your podcasts.

Pictured above: Cyril Ramaphosa. 

Image source: File