We are unlikely ever to know. Four years on, what happened at Phala Phala remains murky and, unusually for a man presumably keen to rebut the scurrilous accusations of his political enemies, the president has done everything possible to ensure that it stays that way.
Cyril Ramaphosa has announced he would take on legal review the Section 89 independent panel report on that break-in. In 2022, the panel, chaired by former chief justice Sandile Ngcobo, found grounds for a parliamentary impeachment inquiry into whether Ramaphosa violated the constitution or committed serious misconduct over Phala Phala.
Last week, after a mere 528-day delay, the Constitutional Court ordered that the report, unless set aside on review, be referred to a parliamentary committee to make a recommendation on possible impeachment. And such a review of what Ramaphosa says is a legally flawed report is exactly what the president now wants.
This new review will start in the High Court. From there, whichever side loses is almost certain to appeal, first to the Supreme Court of Appeal and then to the apex court. It’s a process that could take up to two years, which would suit Ramaphosa perfectly. It would suffice to carry the ANC safely past next year’s conference, where his likely successor will emerge, and to the brink of the 2029 national election.
However, this strategy works fully only if the impeachment inquiry process is suspended while all this happens. That uncertainty is why a Ramaphosa interdict application may also be on the way, independent legal consultant Chris Oxtoby tells me.
To help Ramaphosa, the review doesn’t have to vindicate him. It needs only to slow and complicate matters. If parliament presses on, the ANC can complain at every turn that the process is proceeding on the basis of a report whose legality is under challenge.
The second arrow left in Ramaphosa’s quiver is political. If the courts won’t stop the process, the composition of the impeachment committee may yet come to the president’s rescue. Since the committee is the gear around which the impeachment process turns, any grit the ANC can throw into it could bring the machinery to a grinding halt.
On the face of it, the committee looks admirably inclusive, with 31 members drawn from across the parliamentary spectrum. In practice, it gives extraordinary leverage to a clutch of micro-parties whose collective electoral weight bears little resemblance to the power they wield over the fate of the inquiry. The numbers are revealing and the distortion blatant.
Of the 31 people on the committee, the ANC has nine, DA five, MK three, the EFF two, and one each for IFP, PA, FF Plus, and ActionSA. Eight party representatives – ACDP, UDM, Rise Mzansi, BOSA, ATM, Al Jama-ah, NCC, and UAT – that together won barely 4% of the vote, will constitute just under 26% of the committee. This distortion makes the smallest players in the Assembly disproportionately powerful.
South Africans hoping that all the tawdry truths about Phala Phala will now be revealed are certain to be disappointed. Ramaphosa and the ANC are engaged in a holding operation. Any resolution, such as Ramaphosa’s resignation, would most likely result from broader pressures outside parliament, where the political environment is turning hostile.
The danger for Ramaphosa is that dissenting voices will, in the coming months, become more clamorous. He may survive the impeachment committee, but that’s not enough. Every Ramaphosa and ANC manoeuvre designed to avoid accountability reinforces suspicion of guilt.
So, Phala Phala may end the way political scandals often end, by attrition. Eventually, the president, or more likely those around him, will come to the conclusion that he has become a burden too heavy to carry.
