Since 1990, when political parties were unshackled by the nationalist government, the concept of transformation became an easy term to use to advance narrow political goals.
Transformation hoped for by millions of underprivileged citizens became a potent gavel to invite a select few to the spoils.
The concept lost its character — empowerment. A new concept — entitlement — filled the void. Of course, it would not have been easy, had there been no guardian angel — historical legitimacy.
This guardianship has stood the test of time. It’s 30 years into democracy and this guardianship unashamedly still rears its ugly face.
Ask me today what transformation stands for, my answer would be as good as a revolving door — motion without arrival, repetition without renewal.
What passes for transformation discourse today is not a project of renewal, it is a language of protection. The debate does not clarify, it obscures.
Case in point is the controversy over the inclusion of advocate Mahlape Sello in a government-appointed commission.
This controversy exposes this reality with uncomfortable clarity. The public is told that it is a legal question. It is not. It is a constitutional moment masquerading as a technical dispute.
Let us dispense with fiction early. Under SA law, there is generally no per prohibition on an advocate or attorney serving on a commission after having represented a political figure, provided conflicts are disclosed and managed.
Administrative law recognises recusal, not automatic disqualification.
The constitution guarantees professional freedom and equality before law.
That is not the debate.
The real issue is legitimacy, which is constitutional value distinct from legality.
Section 1 of the constitution grounds the republic in accountability, responsiveness and openness.
Section 195 demands a public administration that is not only lawful, but ethical, impartial and credible in the eyes of the public.
A decision may survive judicial review and still fail the constitutional test of public trust.
And it is precisely that trust that has collapsed.
The predictable camps have emerged. A self-styled “concerned group” invokes conflict of interest, independence and institutional integrity.
Opposing them are “lawyers for transformation” who frame any objection as elitist, reactionary or hostile to democratic change.
Both claim fidelity to the constitution. Both invoke transformation. Both are wrong in what they avoid confronting.
For three decades, an ANC-aligned professional elite has treated liberation history as a renewal source of moral authority.
In the early years of democracy, this went unchallenged. Historical legitimacy mattered. Thirty years later, it no longer suffices.
As matters stand at this moment, the historical legitimacy has been replaced by a quiet but dangerous shift — authority has hardened to entitlement.
Transformation has become a rhetorical shield, deployed to deflect scrutiny rather than deepen accountability.
Then, it must be argued that this is not transformation versus reaction. It is institutional renewal versus institutional capture.
SA’s crisis of governance is not the result of insufficient transformation. It is the product of political proximity normalised within legal and oversight institutions.
State capture did not happen because there were too few black professionals. It happened because constitutional principles were subordinated to political loyalty.
To pretend otherwise is historical dishonesty.
The Constitutional Court has long been clear. Decision-makers must not only be independent, they must appear independent to a reasonable observer.
Yet SA continues to recycle same legal professionals across commissions and inquiries and then expresses surprise when public confidence evaporates.
The law does not require this recycling. Political culture does.
The “concerned groups” are not without blame. Many were silent when institutions were being hollowed out. Their sudden rediscovery of ethics coincides suspiciously with shifts in factional balance.
But the greater danger is done by those who invoke transformation to exempt themselves from scrutiny. When transformation becomes a reason not to ask hard questions, it ceases to be a constitutional project and becomes a patronage ideology.
Transformation was meant to democratise power, not immunise it, or, at worst, insulate it.
The public understand this instinctively. South Africans are not asking whether Sello is technically qualified. They are asking whether a closed political-legal circle can credibly investigate itself.
The ANC’s enduring failure is not legislative or economic alone. It is the organisation’s refusal to allow institutions to mature beyond party lineage.
The judiciary, prosecutorial authorities and commissions of inquiry remain burdened by the assumption that political history equals ethical standing.
It does not.
In a constitutional democracy:
- Stalled corruption prosecutions are not a coincidence,
- Endless commissions without consequences are not neutral,
- And repeated appointment of politically adjacent professionals is not accidental.
The emergence of a government of national unity and the sudden urgency of a national economic dialogue are not signs of renewal. They are admissions of failure.
SA no longer suffers from a lack of legal expertise. It suffers from a credibility deficit.
Transformation cannot mean perpetual recycling. Independence cannot mean proximity without consequences. And liberation history cannot function as a lifetime exemption from constitutional scrutiny.
The crisis is not Sello. The crisis is a political culture that believes it still owns the moral future of the republic.
Having said everything above, the question that remains is what are country’s priorities worth fighting for? Let’s navigate a little bit.
The same legal intellects who built a case against Israel at the Hague were rightly applauded by the world.
On the international stage, SA speaks the language of justice fluently and with moral force.
But at home, that language falters.
Weeks ago, a young cancer patient, Thato Moncho, commemorated a slain whistleblower who exposed corruption at a Gauteng provincial hospital.
She told of denied medication, absent care and health system that failed many people. She has since died.
Cancer care is not charity — it is human rights obligation.
So the question must be asked, without evasion — where are SA’s finest legal minds when constitutional rights collapse in hospital corridors rather than court rooms abroad?
When the nation fights the hardest over entitlement but hesitates over human lives, has it not fatally confused its priorities?
Sandile Madolo is a concerned citizen
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