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For a public servant holding one of the most critical portfolios in the country—education—such conduct is not only unbecoming; it is dangerous. It reflects a broader culture of impunity and entitlement that has come to define many politicians in revolutionary parties such as the African National Congress (ANC) and its northern counterpart, Zimbabwe’s ZANU PF.
Her behavior revealed more than just bad manners—it exposed a rot in leadership where arrogance overshadows accountability, where positions are handed out based on loyalty to the party rather than competence and merit. This is the kind of political culture that prioritizes cronies over citizens and expects applause for mediocrity. And when the time for accountability comes, the people are met with hostility, condescension, or silence.
South Africa’s higher education sector is in crisis. Students are burdened with debt, institutions are plagued with funding shortages, and the sector cries out for visionary, empathetic leadership. Yet, when a minister is given the platform to engage the nation and Parliament, she chooses instead to disrespect the very institution she serves—and by extension, the people.
This isn’t just about one minister. It’s about a systemic decay in political culture that’s gripping revolutionary movements once celebrated for liberating their people. The ANC and ZANU PF were born out of struggle. Their legitimacy once came from their moral compass, their people’s mandate, and their promises of justice and progress. But decades later, that legitimacy is slipping through their fingers, replaced by patronage, arrogance, and self-preservation.
ZANU PF, much like the ANC, continues to avoid accountability with calculated precision. Dissent is often crushed, questions are ignored, and political loyalty is rewarded more than competence. This leadership style—drenched in insincerity and hostility to transparency—has alienated the very people these movements once inspired.
And perhaps that’s why voters are slowly turning their backs on these parties. The 2024 general elections in South Africa were a wake-up call: the ANC lost its majority for the first time since 1994. In Zimbabwe, legitimacy crises have become the norm after every election. The message is clear—people are tired of being ruled by arrogance masquerading as leadership.
What kind of leaders eat while answering to Parliament? What message does it send to our youth when the very person responsible for their educational future cannot even uphold basic decorum? Why should citizens respect institutions that are openly disrespected by their own leaders?
What should be done with politicians who resist accountability? Should we not begin disqualifying candidates who show contempt for democratic processes? Is Africa doomed to recycle arrogant leaders simply because they wear liberation struggle credentials like armor against criticism?
What becomes of revolutionary parties that forget the revolution was never meant to serve a few, but all?
And most importantly—where is Africa going, when arrogance becomes the qualification and sincerity becomes a liability?
Arrogance, Insincerity, and the Death of Revolutionary Politics in South Africa and Beyond
By Desmond Nleya
In a recent session before the parliamentary committee, South Africa’s Minister of Higher Education Dr Nobuhle Pamela Nkabane stunned the nation—not with her grasp of policy, not with her command of vision, but with her sheer arrogance.
‘just google and you will see what it means’, the Minister arrogantly answered to a question when appearing before a parliamentary committee last week.
The setting, which demanded seriousness and humility, was instead used by the Minister as a stage for contempt, as she answered questions dismissively, chewing food live on national television.
For a public servant holding one of the most critical portfolios in the country—education—such conduct is not only unbecoming; it is dangerous. It reflects a broader culture of impunity and entitlement that has come to define many politicians in revolutionary parties such as the African National Congress (ANC) and its northern counterpart, Zimbabwe’s ZANU PF.
Her behavior revealed more than just bad manners—it exposed a rot in leadership where arrogance overshadows accountability, where positions are handed out based on loyalty to the party rather than competence and merit. This is the kind of political culture that prioritizes cronies over citizens and expects applause for mediocrity. And when the time for accountability comes, the people are met with hostility, condescension, or silence.
South Africa’s higher education sector is in crisis. Students are burdened with debt, institutions are plagued with funding shortages, and the sector cries out for visionary, empathetic leadership. Yet, when a minister is given the platform to engage the nation and Parliament, she chooses instead to disrespect the very institution she serves—and by extension, the people.
This isn’t just about one minister. It’s about a systemic decay in political culture that’s gripping revolutionary movements once celebrated for liberating their people. The ANC and ZANU PF were born out of struggle. Their legitimacy once came from their moral compass, their people’s mandate, and their promises of justice and progress. But decades later, that legitimacy is slipping through their fingers, replaced by patronage, arrogance, and self-preservation.
ZANU PF, much like the ANC, continues to avoid accountability with calculated precision. Dissent is often crushed, questions are ignored, and political loyalty is rewarded more than competence. This leadership style—drenched in insincerity and hostility to transparency—has alienated the very people these movements once inspired.
And perhaps that’s why voters are slowly turning their backs on these parties. The 2024 general elections in South Africa were a wake-up call: the ANC lost its majority for the first time since 1994. In Zimbabwe, legitimacy crises have become the norm after every election. The message is clear—people are tired of being ruled by arrogance masquerading as leadership.
What kind of leaders eat while answering to Parliament? What message does it send to our youth when the very person responsible for their educational future cannot even uphold basic decorum? Why should citizens respect institutions that are openly disrespected by their own leaders?
What should be done with politicians who resist accountability? Should we not begin disqualifying candidates who show contempt for democratic processes? Is Africa doomed to recycle arrogant leaders simply because they wear liberation struggle credentials like armor against criticism?
What becomes of revolutionary parties that forget the revolution was never meant to serve a few, but all?
And most importantly—where is Africa going, when arrogance becomes the qualification and sincerity becomes a liability?
