By any objective measure, governing the City of Tshwane is not for the faint-hearted. It is a metro that has, for years, lurched from one political crisis to another, with coalitions collapsing, administrations reshuffled, and service delivery grinding under the weight of financial mismanagement and ageing infrastructure. Into this instability stepped Mayor Dr Nasiphi Moya in late 2024, inheriting a city in urgent need of repair.
Yet, instead of allowing space for that work to take root, recent weeks have seen a surge of baseless criticism, particularly from the Democratic Alliance (DA), aimed at discrediting her leadership. But when one strips away the politics and examines the facts, a different picture begins to emerge.
A more honest one. Let’s start with context, because without it, any analysis of Tshwane’s current state is incomplete.
Long before Dr Moya took office, the city was already in distress. Years of inconsistent leadership and contested coalitions had eroded institutional stability. Financial obligations ballooned, infrastructure maintenance lagged behind demand, and service delivery became increasingly unreliable. Among the most visible symptoms of this decline was the ongoing water crisis, which forced communities across Tshwane to rely on tanker services as a stopgap solution.
This reliance did not begin under Moya. It was entrenched long before her administration, and it became deeply embedded in the city’s procurement systems. Over time, the use of water tankers expanded beyond emergency response into a semi-permanent feature of service delivery, opening the door to inefficiencies and other questionable contracting practices.
The now widely publicised, yet debunked, R777 million linked to water tanker expenditure has become the centrepiece of the DA’s criticism. On the surface, it is a figure designed to alarm, and politically it has done exactly that. But the number itself is deeply misleading when presented without context and the full facts of the matter.
What has been framed as current spending is, in reality, a cumulative figure. It includes historical purchase orders and invoices that were never paid by the failed DA administration and were carried over from previous financial years.
This is not a minor technicality; it is a fundamental distortion. Even more telling is what the current administration has done in response. Rather than continuing with an expensive and vulnerable external procurement model, Dr Moya’s government has begun shifting towards internal capacity for water provision. By investing in municipal resources and tightening oversight mechanisms, the city is working to reduce dependence on private contractors who have historically benefited from the crisis.
This is already saving the city millions of rand each month. That is not the behaviour of an administration engaged in reckless spending; it is the behaviour of one actively trying to close financial leakages and restore fiscal discipline.
And yet, that part of the story rarely makes the headlines. Another key test of leadership lies in how one handles allegations of wrongdoing within their own ranks. Here too, Dr Moya’s actions speak louder than the political rhetoric surrounding her.
When allegations surfaced at the Madlanga Commission involving a senior official and potential tender irregularities, the mayor did not hesitate. She placed the named MMC on suspension, initiated a formal investigation, and directed urgent engagement between the City and the Madlanga Commission. Importantly, she did so while emphasising due process, protecting both the integrity of the institution and the rights of those involved.
This matters. In a political environment where leaders often close ranks and deflect accountability, Dr Moya’s response signalled something different: a willingness to subject her own administration to scrutiny without collapsing into defensiveness.
In governance terms, this aligns with principles of administrative justice and ethical leadership. It reinforces the idea that accountability is not selective, and that institutional credibility must take precedence over political expediency.
Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. Tshwane is governed through a multi-party coalition, an arrangement that is, by its very nature, complex and often fragile. Managing such a coalition requires constant negotiation, strategic compromise, and political discipline. It is not a system that lends itself to quick wins or simple narratives.
Every policy decision must be navigated through competing perspectives. Every reform must be balanced against coalition stability. And every misstep, real or perceived, is amplified by partners and opponents alike.
And yet, under Moya’s leadership, the city has maintained a degree of stability that has been largely absent in recent years. Council has continued to function, key administrative processes have remained intact, and the kind of dramatic collapses that previously defined Tshwane politics have, for now, been avoided.
That, in itself, is an achievement worth acknowledging. So why the sustained attacks?
Many of the challenges now being weaponised against Dr Moya did not originate with her. They are the result of decisions, systems, and contracts that predate her tenure under failed previous administrations. To ignore that reality is not just unfair; it is dishonest.
Criticism is an essential part of democracy. It keeps governments accountable and ensures that power is exercised responsibly. But for criticism to be meaningful, it must be grounded in fact, not selective memory and not strategic omission.
What we are increasingly seeing instead is the politics of simplification, reducing complex governance issues into digestible soundbites that obscure more than they reveal.
Beyond the political noise, the real work of governance continues. Dr Moya’s administration has prioritised tightening procurement processes, reducing irregular expenditure, and addressing long-standing infrastructure backlogs. There is a deliberate shift towards rebuilding internal capacity within the municipality, an approach that, while slower in the short term, is more sustainable in the long run.
Efforts to stabilise the city’s finances are also underway, with a focus on improving revenue collection, managing debt obligations, and restoring credibility with key service providers. These are not headline-grabbing interventions, but they are the kind that determine whether a city functions or fails.
They require time, consistency, and administrative discipline, qualities that are often undervalued in a political climate that rewards immediacy and spectacle.
The truth is that no mayor could have resolved Tshwane’s structural challenges within a few months. The scale of the problems, financial, infrastructural, and institutional, demands a longer-term approach. What matters is whether there is a clear direction of travel, and in this case, there is.
None of this is to suggest that the current administration is beyond reproach. It is not. There are still serious challenges in Tshwane, and residents are right to demand better services, greater transparency, and faster progress. Accountability must remain non-negotiable, and scrutiny must continue.
But accountability must also be fair. What we are witnessing is not just a governance debate; it is a contest over perception. And in that contest, nuance is often the first casualty. Allegations, once repeated often enough, begin to harden into assumed truths, regardless of their factual basis.
That is a dangerous trajectory, not just for Tshwane, but for democratic discourse more broadly.
Dr Nasiphi Moya’s leadership should be evaluated on the basis of evidence: the condition of the city she inherited, the decisions she has taken, and the trajectory of the reforms she is implementing. When viewed through that lens, the narrative of failure begins to unravel.
What emerges instead is a picture of an administration attempting, under difficult and highly politicised conditions, to stabilise a city that has known very little stability.
That may not make for sensational headlines. It may not lend itself to viral moments or political point-scoring. But it is, ultimately, what governance looks like: incremental, contested, and often misunderstood.
And if Tshwane is to recover, it is precisely this kind of grounded, reform-driven leadership by Dr Nasiphi Moya from ActionSA that must be allowed the space to succeed.
Governance vs Politics: Why Dr Nasiphi Moya Deserves a Fair Reading in Tshwane
By any objective measure, governing the City of Tshwane is not for the faint-hearted. It is a metro that has, for years, lurched from one political crisis to another, with coalitions collapsing, administrations reshuffled, and service delivery grinding under the weight of financial mismanagement and ageing infrastructure. Into this instability stepped Mayor Dr Nasiphi Moya in late 2024, inheriting a city in urgent need of repair.
Yet, instead of allowing space for that work to take root, recent weeks have seen a surge of baseless criticism, particularly from the Democratic Alliance (DA), aimed at discrediting her leadership. But when one strips away the politics and examines the facts, a different picture begins to emerge.
A more honest one. Let’s start with context, because without it, any analysis of Tshwane’s current state is incomplete.
Long before Dr Moya took office, the city was already in distress. Years of inconsistent leadership and contested coalitions had eroded institutional stability. Financial obligations ballooned, infrastructure maintenance lagged behind demand, and service delivery became increasingly unreliable. Among the most visible symptoms of this decline was the ongoing water crisis, which forced communities across Tshwane to rely on tanker services as a stopgap solution.
This reliance did not begin under Moya. It was entrenched long before her administration, and it became deeply embedded in the city’s procurement systems. Over time, the use of water tankers expanded beyond emergency response into a semi-permanent feature of service delivery, opening the door to inefficiencies and other questionable contracting practices.
The now widely publicised, yet debunked, R777 million linked to water tanker expenditure has become the centrepiece of the DA’s criticism. On the surface, it is a figure designed to alarm, and politically it has done exactly that. But the number itself is deeply misleading when presented without context and the full facts of the matter.
What has been framed as current spending is, in reality, a cumulative figure. It includes historical purchase orders and invoices that were never paid by the failed DA administration and were carried over from previous financial years.
This is not a minor technicality; it is a fundamental distortion. Even more telling is what the current administration has done in response. Rather than continuing with an expensive and vulnerable external procurement model, Dr Moya’s government has begun shifting towards internal capacity for water provision. By investing in municipal resources and tightening oversight mechanisms, the city is working to reduce dependence on private contractors who have historically benefited from the crisis.
This is already saving the city millions of rand each month. That is not the behaviour of an administration engaged in reckless spending; it is the behaviour of one actively trying to close financial leakages and restore fiscal discipline.
And yet, that part of the story rarely makes the headlines. Another key test of leadership lies in how one handles allegations of wrongdoing within their own ranks. Here too, Dr Moya’s actions speak louder than the political rhetoric surrounding her.
When allegations surfaced at the Madlanga Commission involving a senior official and potential tender irregularities, the mayor did not hesitate. She placed the named MMC on suspension, initiated a formal investigation, and directed urgent engagement between the City and the Madlanga Commission. Importantly, she did so while emphasising due process, protecting both the integrity of the institution and the rights of those involved.
This matters. In a political environment where leaders often close ranks and deflect accountability, Dr Moya’s response signalled something different: a willingness to subject her own administration to scrutiny without collapsing into defensiveness.
In governance terms, this aligns with principles of administrative justice and ethical leadership. It reinforces the idea that accountability is not selective, and that institutional credibility must take precedence over political expediency.
Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. Tshwane is governed through a multi-party coalition, an arrangement that is, by its very nature, complex and often fragile. Managing such a coalition requires constant negotiation, strategic compromise, and political discipline. It is not a system that lends itself to quick wins or simple narratives.
Every policy decision must be navigated through competing perspectives. Every reform must be balanced against coalition stability. And every misstep, real or perceived, is amplified by partners and opponents alike.
And yet, under Moya’s leadership, the city has maintained a degree of stability that has been largely absent in recent years. Council has continued to function, key administrative processes have remained intact, and the kind of dramatic collapses that previously defined Tshwane politics have, for now, been avoided.
That, in itself, is an achievement worth acknowledging. So why the sustained attacks?
Many of the challenges now being weaponised against Dr Moya did not originate with her. They are the result of decisions, systems, and contracts that predate her tenure under failed previous administrations. To ignore that reality is not just unfair; it is dishonest.
Criticism is an essential part of democracy. It keeps governments accountable and ensures that power is exercised responsibly. But for criticism to be meaningful, it must be grounded in fact, not selective memory and not strategic omission.
What we are increasingly seeing instead is the politics of simplification, reducing complex governance issues into digestible soundbites that obscure more than they reveal.
Beyond the political noise, the real work of governance continues. Dr Moya’s administration has prioritised tightening procurement processes, reducing irregular expenditure, and addressing long-standing infrastructure backlogs. There is a deliberate shift towards rebuilding internal capacity within the municipality, an approach that, while slower in the short term, is more sustainable in the long run.
Efforts to stabilise the city’s finances are also underway, with a focus on improving revenue collection, managing debt obligations, and restoring credibility with key service providers. These are not headline-grabbing interventions, but they are the kind that determine whether a city functions or fails.
They require time, consistency, and administrative discipline, qualities that are often undervalued in a political climate that rewards immediacy and spectacle.
The truth is that no mayor could have resolved Tshwane’s structural challenges within a few months. The scale of the problems, financial, infrastructural, and institutional, demands a longer-term approach. What matters is whether there is a clear direction of travel, and in this case, there is.
None of this is to suggest that the current administration is beyond reproach. It is not. There are still serious challenges in Tshwane, and residents are right to demand better services, greater transparency, and faster progress. Accountability must remain non-negotiable, and scrutiny must continue.
But accountability must also be fair. What we are witnessing is not just a governance debate; it is a contest over perception. And in that contest, nuance is often the first casualty. Allegations, once repeated often enough, begin to harden into assumed truths, regardless of their factual basis.
That is a dangerous trajectory, not just for Tshwane, but for democratic discourse more broadly.
Dr Nasiphi Moya’s leadership should be evaluated on the basis of evidence: the condition of the city she inherited, the decisions she has taken, and the trajectory of the reforms she is implementing. When viewed through that lens, the narrative of failure begins to unravel.
What emerges instead is a picture of an administration attempting, under difficult and highly politicised conditions, to stabilise a city that has known very little stability.
That may not make for sensational headlines. It may not lend itself to viral moments or political point-scoring. But it is, ultimately, what governance looks like: incremental, contested, and often misunderstood.
And if Tshwane is to recover, it is precisely this kind of grounded, reform-driven leadership by Dr Nasiphi Moya from ActionSA that must be allowed the space to succeed.