By Rabbie Serumula
SOUTH Africa’s political elite is proving that a house of qualifications built on lies can stand - at least for a while. One revelation after another exposes officials who have climbed the ranks with fabricated degrees, diplomas, or even the most basic credentials. And yet, instead of collapsing, the system merely shrugs and absorbs the shock, revealing a governance structure more concerned with loyalty than legitimacy. What does it say about a nation when leadership credentials are not measured by merit but by the ability to avoid scrutiny?
Take the most recent scandal: a Limpopo ANC MPL, David “Che” Selane, accusing fellow politicians of buying their degrees. Not earning. Not sweating over last-minute exam cramming or submitting late-night assignments. Buying. Because why waste years in lecture halls when a simple transaction can get you the title “Dr” before your name?
But this isn’t a new phenomenon. South Africa has been running a diploma mill for the powerful for years. There’s Hlaudi Motsoeneng, the former SABC boss who soared through the ranks without a matric certificate. Then there’s Noxolo Kiviet, who somehow managed to earn honours and a master’s degree without the inconvenience of first completing a bachelor’s. And, of course, the late, great Pallo Jordan, whose intellectual prowess was never in doubt - except when it came to actually producing a degree to match his reputation.
At this point, one has to wonder whether political office should come with an entrance exam. Forget the lengthy CVs; just give them a simple general knowledge test:
What is inflation?
How many provinces does South Africa have?
What is the difference between an honours degree and an honorary one?
If half of them pass, we’ll call it a victory.
But the real tragedy isn’t just the fraud—it’s the system that enables it. In any functioning democracy, a fake qualification scandal would be a career-ending catastrophe. Here, it’s a mild inconvenience. A PR hiccup. Maybe a short-lived suspension, after which the individual is recycled into another cushy position, where their ability to “strategise” - a favourite euphemism - outweighs any need for actual competence.
And let’s not forget the enablers: universities and accreditation bodies willing to turn a blind eye when the politically connected need a quick qualification to justify their promotions. If institutions of higher learning are complicit, why should politicians feel any shame?
Of course, there’s humour to be found in all of this - until one remembers the consequences. Every fake qualification means a competent person was overlooked. Every fraudster in power means a department is run by someone who doesn’t understand the basics of their field. Every recycled scandal erodes public trust until we accept that, in South African politics, competence is an optional extra, like air conditioning in a used car.
So where does this leave us? If history is anything to go by, nowhere new. The house of cards may wobble, a few may tumble, but the structure remains standing. That is, until one day, it doesn’t.