
‘A coup is not discussed on social media': Holomisa says no need to press panic buttons
Deputy Minister of Defence and Military Veterans, Bantu Holomisa, has seemingly shrugged off claims about a coup threat, amid growing conversations surrounding South Africa's national security.
Minister in the Presidency responsible for State Security, Khumbudzo Ntshavheni, disclosed this week that the security cluster had identified a 'potential risk' of a coup d'état.
Ntshavheni also emphasised that the National Security Strategy and National Intelligence Estimates report flagged other risks, including terrorism and violent extremism.
Holomisa speaks on coup d'état fears
Speaking to the media at 1 Military Hospital in Pretoria on Thursday, Holomisa stressed that the security of the state remains a key priority.
'I don't want to get involved in the reports of what comes from the Cabinet because they are privy to better briefings.
'If there is anyone who has such plans, I think he or she is advised to stop that because it has been exposed. A coup is not discussed on social media, that's not a coup,' he said.
The deputy minister assured the public that the South African National Defence Force (SANDF) is fully capable of defending the nation against any serious threat.
ALSO READ: Why a military coup d'etat in SA is unlikely
He further indicated that the country is not facing any imminent external threats, but the military may be called upon to support the police in managing internal unrest.
'We are not expecting conventional warfare in South Africa. The major threat I foresee is civil disobedience, where we are asked by the police to assist and protect them.
'In that case, we will be ready to assist police, but as far as fighting an outside war with outside players or countries, that is not in the offing.'
[B]
• Address cybersecurity vulnerabilities at organs of State including in procurement,
supply chain management and reliance on foreign-based companies within
national security domains.
• Investigate activities related to terror financing that are characterised by… — Khumbudzo Ntshavheni (@Khu_Ntshavheni) July 15, 2025
Holomisa added that the army is now better equipped to respond to potential riots since the 2021 July unrest.
'The Minister of State Security did table a report, and they seem to be, at least this time around, ahead of the game.
'Anyone who wants to use violence, I think that the South African security in general, combined, they can deal with that matter. But I don't think that we should start pressing panic buttons.'
Security concerns deepen amid Saps allegations
Ongoing concerns about national security have also been compounded by serious allegations involving the South African Police Service (Saps).
KwaZulu-Natal (KZN) Police Commissioner Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi earlier this month accused Police Minister Senzo Mchunu of working with criminal gangs to dismantle a task team investigating politically motivated killings.
Mkhwanazi went on to claim that investigators had uncovered a criminal network tied to a drug cartel, implicating politicians, police officers, metro police and members of the judiciary.
In response to the allegations, President Cyril Ramaphosa placed Mchunu on leave and appointed Gwede Mantashe as acting police minister.
Professor Firoz Cachalia is set to take over the role in August.
Ramaphosa also announced the establishment of a judicial commission of inquiry to investigate Mkhwanazi's claims.
NOW READ: 'Where's the proof?': Calls for Ntshavheni to answer for coup claims
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles

The Star
6 hours ago
- The Star
Why South Africans are losing trust in their security forces
There is a quiet, growing disillusionment in South Africa. One that isn't expressed in protest or petitions, but in silence. People no longer expect the system to protect them — not from criminals, not from corrupt politicians, and indeed not if they decide to speak out. Confidence in the country's security cluster is in freefall, and the state's latest handling of Minister Senzo Mchunu's scandal has only deepened the sense that truth and accountability have no place in today's political landscape. On July 13, President Cyril Ramaphosa placed Police Minister Senzo Mchunu on special leave, following explosive allegations by KwaZulu-Natal police commissioner Lieutenant General Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi. The commissioner accused Mchunu of colluding with criminal syndicates, interfering in politically sensitive murder investigations, and using his authority to disband a task team probing over a hundred unsolved political killings. The accusations, if true, represent one of the most brazen breaches of public trust by a sitting minister in recent memory. Yet despite the severity of the claims, Mchunu has not been fired. He hasn't even been suspended without pay. Instead, he's been quietly placed on paid leave while a commission of inquiry is established. And just like that, a man accused of undermining the very foundations of justice is allowed to retreat — salary and benefits intact — while the public waits, once again, for answers that may never come. The optics of this decision are catastrophic. At a time when public trust in the police has dropped to an all-time low — a recent HSRC survey found only 22% of South Africans have confidence in SAPS — the president's response appears more like damage control than leadership. And for whistleblowers, it sends a devastating message: the system doesn't just fail to protect you; it may actively reward those who put you in danger. This isn't a theoretical issue. Whistleblowers in South Africa operate in one of the most hostile environments in the democratic world. Those who expose corruption or criminal wrongdoing often face threats, intimidation, legal harassment, or even death. Babita Deokaran's assassination in 2021 was not just a tragedy — it was a signal that speaking out in this country can be a death sentence. Since then, government promises to strengthen whistleblower protection laws have amounted to little more than lip service. Draft proposals to reform the Protected Disclosures Act have yet to materialise into action. Civil society groups have repeatedly called for a comprehensive system that includes safe housing, financial support, legal assistance, and psychological care for whistleblowers. But those calls continue to go unanswered. Now, in the wake of the Mchunu scandal, the stakes have never been clearer. If a police minister can be accused of sabotaging investigations and remain in office, even temporarily, what hope is there for those who come forward with information that implicates people in power? A judicial commission, led by acting deputy-chief Justice Mbuyiseli Madlanga, has been tasked with investigating the allegations. Its scope includes not just Mchunu's conduct, but broader issues of interference in the justice system by political actors. It is a necessary process, and if handled with urgency and transparency, it could restore some faith in the rule of law. But South Africans have seen this play before. Commissions that take months, sometimes years, to deliver findings. Recommendations that gather dust. Promises that fade into the next news cycle. The danger isn't just that whistleblowers will stop coming forward. It's that the public will stop caring. When accountability becomes a performance, people turn away. When justice is delayed indefinitely, it begins to resemble impunity. Ramaphosa came into office promising to clean up the state, rebuild trust, and restore integrity to public office. However, his leadership has often favoured caution over conviction. Political stability has come at the expense of moral clarity. At this moment, South Africans don't need another commission. They need a firm, unambiguous stand — a declaration that those who compromise justice will not be protected by proximity to power. It's not too late. The president can still act decisively. He can remove Mchunu from his position, demand expedited action from the inquiry, and push forward urgent reforms to protect whistleblowers. These are not radical demands — they are the minimum standard in any functioning democracy. The next whistleblower is out there. They might be a municipal clerk, a junior accountant, a medical officer, or a police officer with a conscience. They're watching the Mchunu case unfold. They're reading the silence. And they're asking themselves one very human question: is it worth it? Right now, the answer is uncertain. But if the president and his Cabinet fail to act swiftly and honestly, the silence that follows won't be peaceful — it will be the silence of a society giving up. *Mayalo is an independent writer and analyst. The views expressed are not necessarily those of IOL and Independent Media


Daily Maverick
7 hours ago
- Daily Maverick
Civil society groups stand firm with rights institute against Operation Dudula protest
An anti-migrant protest by Operation Dudula outside Seri's offices backfired when civil society organisations gathered in solidarity with the rights group. Operation Dudula's mission to march to the offices of the Socio-Economic Rights Institute (Seri) and hand over a memorandum to the civil society organisation fell flat on Thursday, 17 July, when the anti-migrant group was confronted by several rights groups that had gathered outside Seri's offices. The anti-migrant group descended on the office in Braamfontein, Johannesburg, accusing the organisation of being 'unpatriotic' and protecting undocumented migrants (who they deem to be criminals) by providing them with legal support. It accused the South African Human Rights Commission and the Helen Suzman Foundation of doing the same. However, as Operation Dudula marched from Mary Fitzgerald Square to Nzunza House, where the Seri offices are located, several civil society organisations gathered outside the building in a show of solidarity with the rights organisation. 'We are here today to show solidarity to Seri, the Human Rights Commission, as well as the Helen Suzman Foundation, who have been attacked by Operation Dudula,' said Thapelo Mohapi, chairperson of Abahlali baseMjondolo. 'We are here for humanity, we are here to protect humanity and to protect our Constitution, which is now under attack more than ever.' Abahlali baseMjondolo's red-clad supporters were present in large numbers. Also there were members of Kopanang Africa Against Xenophobia (KAAX), SECTION27, the Institute for Economic Justice, Equal Education and several other civil society groups. While the crowd waited for Operation Dudula to arrive, they sang and danced, and their leaders voiced messages of support for Seri. 'We know Operation Dudula are angry and we understand why, but they are directing their anger at the wrong people. Our issue in South Africa is not migrants,' said KAAX's Dale McKinley. 'Our issue is poverty, unemployment, corruption and persistent budget cuts, but instead of directing their attention on holding the government accountable for those problems, Operation Dudula is targeting vulnerable people who had no part in creating them.' Tense showdown The sizeable crowd of green and white-clad Operation Dudula members arrived at the offices at 12.30, an hour later than expected, and what had been a peaceful gathering turned into a tense showdown between the organisations gathered to support Seri and the anti-migrant group. A throng of red and a mass of green and white military-style regalia were separated by a thin blue line of police officers. Operation Dudula members, some of them wielding sjamboks, hurled insults at the Seri supporters, calling them ' makwerekwere ' (a derogatory term for Africans born outside South Africa), threatening to beat them and telling them to go back home — even though most appeared to be South African citizens. Operation Dudula leader Zandile Dubula told a member of the South African Police Service that the police must remove the Seri supporters. 'We will not hand over the memorandum with these people here. Our members want to stand here and sing. They must move, our people must stand there,' said Dubula. The standoff between Operation Dudula and the civil society organisations lasted for more than an hour, with tensions mounting. An Operation Dudula member lunged at the police, who retaliated with pepper spray. Nkosinathi Sithole, Seri's director of litigation, said, 'If [Operation Dudula] say they are submitting a memorandum at Seri, they should know exactly who Seri's clients are, who Seri fight for, as opposed to the misconception they are presenting in the media.' Daily Maverick has reported on the court action of several rights groups to stop Operation Dudula from assaulting or harassing foreign nationals and impeding access to healthcare services and schools for the children of international migrants. The groups accused Operation Dudula of illegally demanding that individuals produce identity documents to prove their right to be in South Africa, and obstructing migrant's access to healthcare facilities and schools. Judgment in the matter has been reserved. Memorandum undelivered Addressing her organisation's members, Dubula accused the police of colluding with Seri by refusing to remove the crowd that had gathered to support the organisation, insisting that she would not hand over the memorandum while they were present. Dubula and the Operation Dudula members left with the memorandum undelivered, hurling insults and singing derogatory songs. Dubula told Daily Maverick, 'They [the Seri supporters] definitely took us by surprise. We have never come across such a situation. We are not doing anything wrong; we applied [to protest], and we have the right to be here. We didn't expect to get resistance, but this means that Seri is breaking laws because we have all the right to submit memorandums and Seri must be dealt with.' Sithole said Seri was disappointed that Operation Dudula left without delivering its memorandum, because the organisation was looking forward to engaging with the group. 'We were very much prepared to receive Operation Dudula's memorandum and to understand their concerns and make Seri's position clear to them. I think this is a sign that they had no intention to deliver the memo, because we were ready to accept it, and they refused,' he said. 'The reason they are taken aback is because they have a false perception about Seri as an organisation. We represent millions of South Africans.


Daily Maverick
7 hours ago
- Daily Maverick
More decolonisation may be necessary to fully liberate us from the reveries of Empire
I was recently reminded of a former colleague who, in the early 1990s, spoke fondly and frequently about 'Lord Robin' and, I recall, he referred to 'Sir Robin' (as fondly and as frequently) – with reference to Robin Renwick, the British Ambassador to South Africa in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The mnemonic was an obituary of Dick Foxton, in which the writer reminisced, with the pride of a pubescent schoolboy, about the thrill of wearing a Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC) bowtie. This took me to the way that the decolonisation of public spaces and institutions movement, that peaked during the #feesmustfall and #rhodesmustfall movements, has dissolved into the background of South African politics; how the ' decolonisation of the mind ' never quite made a measurable change to the way we frame discussions in the mainstream; and how nostalgia for empire (and artefacts like the MCC bowtie) and clinging to colonial practices continue to pervade South African society. There are three things up for discussion here; the apparent dissolution of the decolonisation movement; stubborn clinging to the former colonial (British) systems of honour and recognition — as if they applied universally; and the nostalgia for (and pride in) the signs, symbols and artefacts of empire, notably in the cricket community. I should get two things out of the way. One is that people can support any sports team or club or 'nation' they wish. The other is that I come from a family with a deep history in coloured, Malay and Indian cricket (in the former Transvaal). In terms of both, I don't care for South Africa's cricket or rugby teams. The decolonisation movement and docile bodies The decolonisation movement, such as it may have been, was part of the #rhodesmustfall and #feesmustfall protests that peaked in about 2015/2016. This overall movement seems to have gone quiet. This quietening may be ascribed to the docility of the activists that drove the protests. The idea of docile bodies, or of student activists becoming docile is part of the way that institutions and apparatuses of state tend to discipline and punish, or simply 'pull deviants into line', and reorient citizens to fit into behaviour that is acceptable for ruling elites. Whereas this may be construed as a broader social movement, so to speak, and seems to ignore individual agency, individuals tend to become docile when the demands and expectations of life beyond university force compliance. In this respect, we have seen how, say, the 'Woodstock generation', with its love and peace, communal harmony, and utopian vision, seems to have lost its energy, and most of the revellers at Max Yasgur's farm simply became docile and compliant 'establishment' folk. The Occupy Wall Street movement seems to have followed the same route back to blue-blazer middle-class complacency. In both cases the revellers at Max Yasgur's farm and the occupiers of Wall Street kind of accepted their social position as inevitable, and went on to shore up existing power structures. The #rhodesmustfall and #feesmustfall individuals seem to have gone the same way. One reason students abandon their activist zeal after graduation is the urgency of having to repay exorbitant student loans. Nothing disciplines more than does debt. Knighthoods and honours apply to societies that issue them In an essay on maritime trade routes and global political economy I wrote a year or so ago, I referred to 'Walter Raleigh'. The editor of the essay left the reference at that, as did the sub-editors. I had dropped the 'Sir'. I did so because knighthoods bestowed by the English monarchy do not apply to the rest of the world. It is relevant only if you believe that the English monarchy has the right to tell the world whom to call 'Sir' or 'Lord' or 'Dame', and you curry favour with references to 'Lord Robin' or 'Sir Robin'… We do not, for instance, use the Japanese equivalent of knighthood (Samurai) or the Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum when we refer to Japanese people of that stature. I can't imagine reference, among South Africans, to The Most Illustrious Order of Tri Shakti Patta when addressing a Nepalese recipient conferred with that order. Nor, for that matter, do we refer to the Malaysian Prime Minister as Dato Sri Anwar Ebrahim; the (rotating) King of Malaysia confers the title 'Dato Sri' to individuals who have made significant and exceptional contributions to that country. But we will refer to 'Sirs' or 'Dames' when we talk about British citizens who have received the honours. Whether we like it or not, knighthoods are not recognised — or should not be honoured — by people beyond the borders of the UK. There are, to be sure, some of us who would insist on using these honorifics derived from the Middle Ages in Europe, yet pay scant attention to The Order of Mapungubwe. This, I believe, is what happens when we cling to colonial beliefs, values, artefacts and practices. Which brings me to cricket, the pride of the MCC, and the nostalgiacs. The MCC, cricket and empire One of the very few conservative streaks that I have is a love for Test cricket, and an intense dislike of the Indian Premier League. The latter is too noisy, too crass in its iconography and imagery; I have never liked the idea of dancing girls at sporting events, or anywhere else for that matter. The cynosure of these dancing girls at sporting events is cheerleading, which began with the elite male privilege and masculinities of Americans in the 19th century. Cheerleading in the USA is a sordid affair. While that's a whole different story, the dancing girls at IPL matches make it difficult to watch that spectacle with its riotous colours, sights and sounds. As much as I enjoy cricket, I am also aware of its colonial heritage and (especially) how (like the English language) we in the countries that were once part of the British empire have adopted the game and redeployed it, so to speak. Cricket in particular has played a 'civilising' role in maintaining British rule in its colonial possessions as well as defining a quintessentially British identity. Cricket in particular was more than a leisurely sport. It served as a vector for carrying British imperial beliefs, values and practices to its colonial territories. From the writings of the Trinidadian historian, CLR James, we understand the way that cricket became the symbol of imperial solidarity and superiority, and epitomised a set of consolidatory moral imperatives that both exemplified and explained imperial ambition and achievement. Cricket became a political metaphor as much as an imperial game. (See here, and here). There are, nonetheless, those good people who cling to the pride and privilege, and schoolboy thrills of the MCC bowtie — and they're all innocents, mind you. I remember interviewing Ali Bacher (about the Mike Gatting Rebel Tour in 1989/90) many years ago, and he was quite oblivious of the old coloured Transvaal Cricket team that my uncles were part of in the 1940s and 1950s. The late Vishnu Padayachee reminded us, when he explained that 'Ali Bacher did very well under apartheid. He has done even better in the 15 years since Nelson Mandela's release from Robben Island. … What is also very evident is that Dr Bacher appears to have slid from operating under one regime to the next seamlessly. There is no epiphanous moment here, no expression of regret, no apology for the various and highly controversial roles he played in propping up white cricket both as a player and administrator [and insisted that white cricket in South Africa] 'had to continue to find its own way along the rebel road'.' About Bacher, sports historian Goolam Vahed wrote 'there needs to be greater accountability among those who now cloak their past collaboration with apartheid. The same applies to the process that led to unity… There will be twists in the story of how Ali Bacher, who tried so hard to destroy non-racial cricket through rebel tours and clandestine tactics in apartheid South Africa, came to lead post-apartheid cricket.' It is in this post-apartheid era that the nostalgiacs hide their empire masks behind smiles and platitudes. It shows up, every so often, with reminiscences about the MCC and how warm and fuzzy our compatriots feel.