By Nco Dube | 22 October 2025

The appearance of Minister Senzo Mchunu before Parliament’s ad-hoc committee was meant to steady the waters after weeks of damaging allegations by General Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi. Instead, it has deepened the crisis of credibility surrounding not only Mchunu himself but the ANC as a governing party. 

What unfolded was not the testimony of a leader confident in his decisions, but the performance of a man cornered by his own contradictions, evasions, and lapses in judgment. In the process, he has reminded South Africans why trust in the ANC has eroded so profoundly: because accountability is always deferred, and because those entrusted with power appear more concerned with protecting themselves than with protecting the public interest.

Disbanding the PKTT: Timing, Process, and Political Motive

From the outset, Mchunu’s testimony was marked by a defensive posture. He insisted that the disbandment of the Political Killings Task Team (PKTT) was a legitimate decision, one taken in the interests of efficiency and coordination. Yet the more he spoke, the less convincing he became. He admitted that he did not consult the President, the inter-ministerial committee (IMC), or even the National Commissioner of Police before issuing the directive. This was not a minor administrative oversight. It was a fundamental breach of process, a unilateral act that undermined the very structures of accountability he is meant to uphold. By his own admission, he acted alone.

The timing of his directive only compounds the suspicion. Issued on the afternoon of 31 December, while the National Commissioner was on leave, the letter carried the stench of opportunism. It was the kind of bureaucratic sleight of hand that South Africans have come to recognise all too well: decisions of great consequence taken in the shadows, at moments when scrutiny is least likely. That the letter was sent on the cusp of a new year, when the country’s attention was elsewhere, suggests a deliberate attempt to avoid immediate accountability.

Equally troubling is Mchunu’s insistence on rebranding the PKTT as the “National PKTT.” This is not a semantic slip. It is a calculated attempt to relocate authority away from General Mkhwanazi, to strip him of ownership over a unit that had become synonymous with his leadership. In doing so, Mchunu revealed not only a political manoeuvre but also a personal animus. His testimony suggested a minister more concerned with undermining a subordinate than with strengthening the fight against political killings.

The Phantom Recording and Shifting Justifications

The contradictions in his testimony were glaring. At one point, he claimed to possess audio evidence of Mkhwanazi threatening him. An audio recording of a phone call between General Mkhwanazi and Mchunu’s Chief of Staff Cedric Nkabinde was played without the expected evidence of an ‘angry and threatening’ Mkhwanazi. 

Under questioning, he was forced to concede that he had no such recording. This was not a minor inconsistency. It was a falsehood presented as fact, a desperate attempt to discredit his accuser that collapsed under the weight of scrutiny. 

Similarly, his justifications for disbanding the PKTT shifted with each question. He spoke of inefficiency, budget constraints, duplication of functions, and the need for centralisation. Yet none of these reasons appeared in his original letter. The gap between his written directive and his oral testimony was not merely an oversight. It was evidence of a minister retrofitting explanations to decisions already taken, scrambling to construct a narrative that could withstand public examination.

Surveillance Culture and Ethical Collapse

Perhaps the most ethically troubling revelation was his admission that he advised his chief of staff, Cedrick Nkabinde, to record the conversation with General Mkhwanazi without informing him. In any professional context, such conduct would be questionable. In the context of a ministerial office, it is indefensible.

 It speaks to a culture of paranoia and entrapment, where trust is replaced by surveillance and where political survival trumps ethical conduct. That a minister of the Republic would sanction such behaviour is a damning indictment of his judgment.

Brown Mogotsi and the Lobbyist Problem

The shadow of Brown Mogotsi loomed large over the proceedings. Mogotsi, a businessman with alleged links to criminal syndicates, appeared to have insider knowledge of the PKTT’s disbandment before the National Commissioner himself.

 Mchunu’s evasiveness on his relationship with Mogotsi was telling. He danced around questions, offered half-answers, and sought refuge in technicalities. But the impression left was unmistakable: that he had surrounded himself with dubious characters, one of whom acted as his lobbyist for ANC presidential ambitions. This was not merely poor judgment. It was reckless, a betrayal of the standards expected of a minister entrusted with the safety of South Africans.

Xola Nqola’s Interrogation: A Rare Moment of Accountability

And yet, amid the evasions and contradictions, there was one moment of clarity  and it came not from the minister, but from a young  ANC MP. Xola Nqola’s questioning was sharp, surprising, and unflinching. 

He pressed Mchunu on the phantom audio recording, exposing the hollowness of the minister’s claim. He demanded to know why the PKTT could be disbanded when the conditions that had necessitated its creation, the scourge of political killings had not disappeared. In that moment, Nqola broke with the ANC’s usual instinct to shield its own. He spoke with the urgency of someone who understood that accountability cannot be postponed indefinitely, that the credibility of Parliament itself was on the line.

But if Nqola’s performance was refreshing, it was also an exception. Mdumiseni Ntuli, the ANC Chief Whip, was conspicuously silent. His silence was not neutral; it was political. As Chief Whip, Ntuli’s role is to set the tone for the caucus, to signal whether the party will tolerate tough scrutiny of one of its own. His refusal to engage, to even pose a single probing question, spoke volumes. It suggested that the ANC’s instinct remains one of protectionism, even as the party haemorrhages public trust. In a moment that demanded leadership, Ntuli chose silence and silence, in this context, was complicity.

Then there was Khusela Sangoni, ANC MP and former presidential spokesperson, whose interventions often seemed designed less to clarify than to shield. At key moments, she stepped in to soften the blows, reframing questions in ways that gave Mchunu breathing space. Her tone was protective, her approach deferential. Where Nqola sought to pin the minister down, Sangoni sought to lift him up. It was a reminder of the ANC’s enduring culture of loyalty to individuals over institutions, of circling the wagons rather than confronting uncomfortable truths.

The Madlanga Commission and the Bigger Picture

The broader context cannot be ignored. The Madlanga Commission has already uncovered the deep infiltration of criminal syndicates into SAPS and political structures. Mkhwanazi’s claim that Mchunu was “fully involved” in a syndicate aiming to derail investigations into political killings may yet be tested, but the minister’s testimony has done little to dispel the suspicion. Instead, it has reinforced the perception of a political leadership compromised by its entanglements, unable to draw a clear line between governance and criminality.

The ANC’s Paralysis and the Erosion of Public Trust

For the ANC, the implications are dire. The party has long spoken of renewal, of cleansing itself of the rot that has corroded its moral authority. Yet each scandal, each evasive testimony, each failure to hold its leaders accountable, chips away at that promise. 

South Africans are weary of commissions and committees that expose wrongdoing without consequence. They are weary of ministers who deny, deflect, and delay. They are weary of a governing party that seems incapable of confronting its own failures.

Mchunu’s credibility is in freefall. He began his testimony with the appearance of preparation, but quickly unravelled under questioning. His arrogance, his defensiveness, his off-tangent monologues, and his factually inaccurate submissions painted the picture of a man unfit for the office he holds. 

Whether he was complicit in wrongdoing or merely reckless in judgment, his continued denial is untenable. If he had any respect for the office, for the President who appointed him, or for the ANC itself, he would resign before the ad-hoc committee and the Madlanga Commission complete their work.

A Mirror to the Movement

But resignation is unlikely. The ANC has shown time and again that it will protect its own, even at the cost of public trust. It is this culture of impunity that has brought the party to the brink of electoral decline. South Africans no longer believe in its promises of reform because they see, in moments like Mchunu’s testimony, the persistence of the very behaviours that have hollowed out the state.

The Mchunu-Mkhwanazi saga is not just about one minister’s credibility. It is a mirror held up to the ANC’s crisis of trust. It reveals a party unable to confront corruption within its ranks, unwilling to prioritise accountability over complicity, and incapable of convincing South Africans that it is serious about change. Unless the ANC acts decisively, unless it demonstrates that no one is above accountability, it risks further alienating a public already sceptical of its ability to govern with integrity.

In the end, Mchunu’s testimony was less a defence of his actions than an indictment of the ANC’s culture. A culture that rewards silence, shields the powerful, and punishes those who dare to ask the right questions.

(Dube is a noted Political Economist, Businessperson, and Social Commentator whose insights are regularly featured on Ukhozi FM and in various newspapers. For further reading and perspectives, visit: http://www.ncodube.blog)