We live in a country where outrage is fashionable and nuance is fast fashion. So when ActionSA MP Dereleen James raised her voice against Vusimuzi “Cat” Matlala during his appearance before Parliament’s Ad Hoc Committee, the online backlash was swift and predictable.
“She was unprofessional,” some said. “She was shouting.” Others mocked her by saying she “thinks she’s a lawyer.” These reactions are not only lazy, they are deeply dangerous. They reveal a society that is increasingly comfortable laughing at pain, trivialising trauma, and prioritising optics over truth.
What happened in that committee room was not theatrics. It was a collision between raw accountability and a system that too often cushions the powerful. Dereleen James was not disruptive for the sake of attention. She was attempting to interrogate a man who is facing serious criminal allegations including attempted murder and who is allegedly linked to major corruption involving state tenders. These are not “soft” accusations. They go to the heart of what is wrong with South Africa’s criminal justice system, its political elite, and the networks that bind them.
Cat Matlala is not just another suspect. He has been arrested and charged in connection with the shooting of actress Tebogo Thobejane, a case that shocked the country and reignited conversations about gender-based violence, intimate partner violence, and the danger women face when they try to leave abusive relationships. Tebogo survived, but she did not escape unscarred. She has since spoken about the trauma, fear and loss of safety that followed the attempt on her life. This is the man who sat before Parliament and instead of outrage that such a figure was being allowed to perform for the nation, we got jokes about an MP’s “tone.”
This alone should make us pause. What kind of society have we become when the alleged attempted killing of a woman can be reduced to a footnote, while the emotions of the person confronting the accused become the main story? What does that say about our moral priorities? What does it say about our commitments to women, especially in a country battling a GBV crisis that has reached catastrophic levels?
Beyond the attempted-murder charge, Matlala is also implicated in extremely serious corruption allegations. He is linked to a R360 million tender involving police procurement and security contracts, a deal that has raised alarms about political influence, fronting and capture of state processes. This is not speculation from social media. These are matters that have been investigated, reported on, and are part of the broader national conversation about how criminality has seeped into the arteries of the state.
Dereleen James made it clear that she wanted to ask one central question: which politicians benefited from this network? Who is protecting Cat Matlala? That question is precisely why she was cut short. It is precisely why the process felt rushed, constrained and managed. It is also why her frustration erupted into the open. You do not stay calm when the truth you are pursuing is being postponed, diluted or quietly avoided.
And yet, instead of focusing on the substance, the public discourse quickly shifted toward her delivery. Her “tone.” Her “volume.” Her “attitude.” This is a familiar pattern, and it is deeply gendered. When men display anger in Parliament, like we’ve seen EFF members do a lot of times,, it is framed as passion and leadership. When women do the same, it is framed as hysteria and incompetence. The same society that demands women be fearless in standing up to abusers also demands that they do so softly, sweetly and with decorum that makes everyone else comfortable.
What makes this even more painful is that Dereleen James was not speaking for herself. She was speaking for a survivor. She was speaking for every woman who has been silenced by power, money and influence. She was speaking for communities that have watched criminal syndicates operate with apparent political protection. She was speaking for South Africans who are tired of seeing the same faces implicated in corruption, violence and tender fraud simply rotate through hearings without consequence.
But South Africa has developed a troubling reflex. We laugh when we should be alarmed. We mock when we should be mobilising. We turn serious parliamentary moments into memes, jokes and personality clashes. That cultural habit is not harmless. It is one of the reasons accountability struggles to take root. When public pressure dissolves into entertainment, those who rely on public fatigue and distraction are the greatest beneficiaries.
ActionSA, as a party, has positioned itself as aggressively anti-corruption and unapologetically tough on crime. Whether one agrees with all of its politics or not, it is dishonest to pretend that Dereleen James’s intervention was inconsistent with that mandate. She was not there to be polite. She was sent to confront. Oversight is, by its nature, uncomfortable. It is adversarial. It is emotional when lives and livelihoods are implicated.
To argue that she should have behaved like a courtroom advocate is to misunderstand the role of an MP. Parliament is not a court of law. It is a political oversight body. MPs are not required to mimic advocates; they are required to represent the people, to interrogate power and to pursue truth on behalf of the public. That often means clashing with witnesses. It often means raising uncomfortable questions. It sometimes means raising one’s voice.
The disturbing part of the reaction to this moment is not just that Dereleen was criticised, is that many South Africans seemed more comfortable believing Cat Matlala than believing an MP who was visibly disturbed by what she knows or has seen. One must ask: are we really that naive? Or have we simply grown numb to corruption and violence to the point where we instinctively side with anyone who appears calm and articulate, regardless of what they stand accused of?
This instinct to distrust outrage and trust performance is part of the architecture of impunity. It is how powerful figures survive scandal after scandal. It is how survivors are doubted and perpetrators are rehabilitated in the court of public opinion long before any court of law decides their fate.
Dereleen James did not “shout for attention.” She shouted because time was running out. She shouted because she was being denied space to pursue a line of questioning that could expose political beneficiaries of criminal activity. She shouted because she understands what is at stake not just reputations, but lives.
The bigger question is why the committee allowed a process that cut short critical interrogation. Why was there enough time for performance, but not for substance? Why are South Africans more interested in policing the tone of an MP than in demanding a full accounting of attempted murder, tender corruption and criminal networks?
If we are honest, this moment has exposed more about us than it has about Dereleen James. It has exposed our discomfort with righteous anger. It has exposed our appetite for spectacle over justice. It has exposed how easily we are distracted from the real villains by the volume of those confronting them.
South Africa cannot defeat corruption and gender-based violence with politeness. We cannot dismantle criminal syndicates with good manners. There are moments when calm is not a virtue, but a surrender. There are moments when shouting is not a lack of discipline, but a refusal to be silenced.
The attack on Dereleen James is, at its core, an attack on the idea that anger at injustice is legitimate. It is an attempt to delegitimise accountability by ridiculing the people who demand it most fiercely.
If we continue laughing at serious and damaging issues, if we continue turning parliamentary accountability into social media comedy, then we should not pretend to be shocked when the same forces of violence and corruption keep winning.
ActionSA stood its ground in that committee. Dereleen James did what she was sent to do. The real question is whether South Africa is still willing to stand with those who refuse to be quiet in the face of danger or whether we now prefer our injustice served calmly, politely and with perfect tone.
Why Dereleen James and ActionSA Deserved Our Respect Not Mockery
We live in a country where outrage is fashionable and nuance is fast fashion. So when ActionSA MP Dereleen James raised her voice against Vusimuzi “Cat” Matlala during his appearance before Parliament’s Ad Hoc Committee, the online backlash was swift and predictable.
“She was unprofessional,” some said. “She was shouting.” Others mocked her by saying she “thinks she’s a lawyer.” These reactions are not only lazy, they are deeply dangerous. They reveal a society that is increasingly comfortable laughing at pain, trivialising trauma, and prioritising optics over truth.
What happened in that committee room was not theatrics. It was a collision between raw accountability and a system that too often cushions the powerful. Dereleen James was not disruptive for the sake of attention. She was attempting to interrogate a man who is facing serious criminal allegations including attempted murder and who is allegedly linked to major corruption involving state tenders. These are not “soft” accusations. They go to the heart of what is wrong with South Africa’s criminal justice system, its political elite, and the networks that bind them.
Cat Matlala is not just another suspect. He has been arrested and charged in connection with the shooting of actress Tebogo Thobejane, a case that shocked the country and reignited conversations about gender-based violence, intimate partner violence, and the danger women face when they try to leave abusive relationships. Tebogo survived, but she did not escape unscarred. She has since spoken about the trauma, fear and loss of safety that followed the attempt on her life. This is the man who sat before Parliament and instead of outrage that such a figure was being allowed to perform for the nation, we got jokes about an MP’s “tone.”
This alone should make us pause. What kind of society have we become when the alleged attempted killing of a woman can be reduced to a footnote, while the emotions of the person confronting the accused become the main story? What does that say about our moral priorities? What does it say about our commitments to women, especially in a country battling a GBV crisis that has reached catastrophic levels?
Beyond the attempted-murder charge, Matlala is also implicated in extremely serious corruption allegations. He is linked to a R360 million tender involving police procurement and security contracts, a deal that has raised alarms about political influence, fronting and capture of state processes. This is not speculation from social media. These are matters that have been investigated, reported on, and are part of the broader national conversation about how criminality has seeped into the arteries of the state.
Dereleen James made it clear that she wanted to ask one central question: which politicians benefited from this network? Who is protecting Cat Matlala? That question is precisely why she was cut short. It is precisely why the process felt rushed, constrained and managed. It is also why her frustration erupted into the open. You do not stay calm when the truth you are pursuing is being postponed, diluted or quietly avoided.
And yet, instead of focusing on the substance, the public discourse quickly shifted toward her delivery. Her “tone.” Her “volume.” Her “attitude.” This is a familiar pattern, and it is deeply gendered. When men display anger in Parliament, like we’ve seen EFF members do a lot of times,, it is framed as passion and leadership. When women do the same, it is framed as hysteria and incompetence. The same society that demands women be fearless in standing up to abusers also demands that they do so softly, sweetly and with decorum that makes everyone else comfortable.
What makes this even more painful is that Dereleen James was not speaking for herself. She was speaking for a survivor. She was speaking for every woman who has been silenced by power, money and influence. She was speaking for communities that have watched criminal syndicates operate with apparent political protection. She was speaking for South Africans who are tired of seeing the same faces implicated in corruption, violence and tender fraud simply rotate through hearings without consequence.
But South Africa has developed a troubling reflex. We laugh when we should be alarmed. We mock when we should be mobilising. We turn serious parliamentary moments into memes, jokes and personality clashes. That cultural habit is not harmless. It is one of the reasons accountability struggles to take root. When public pressure dissolves into entertainment, those who rely on public fatigue and distraction are the greatest beneficiaries.
ActionSA, as a party, has positioned itself as aggressively anti-corruption and unapologetically tough on crime. Whether one agrees with all of its politics or not, it is dishonest to pretend that Dereleen James’s intervention was inconsistent with that mandate. She was not there to be polite. She was sent to confront. Oversight is, by its nature, uncomfortable. It is adversarial. It is emotional when lives and livelihoods are implicated.
To argue that she should have behaved like a courtroom advocate is to misunderstand the role of an MP. Parliament is not a court of law. It is a political oversight body. MPs are not required to mimic advocates; they are required to represent the people, to interrogate power and to pursue truth on behalf of the public. That often means clashing with witnesses. It often means raising uncomfortable questions. It sometimes means raising one’s voice.
The disturbing part of the reaction to this moment is not just that Dereleen was criticised, is that many South Africans seemed more comfortable believing Cat Matlala than believing an MP who was visibly disturbed by what she knows or has seen. One must ask: are we really that naive? Or have we simply grown numb to corruption and violence to the point where we instinctively side with anyone who appears calm and articulate, regardless of what they stand accused of?
This instinct to distrust outrage and trust performance is part of the architecture of impunity. It is how powerful figures survive scandal after scandal. It is how survivors are doubted and perpetrators are rehabilitated in the court of public opinion long before any court of law decides their fate.
Dereleen James did not “shout for attention.” She shouted because time was running out. She shouted because she was being denied space to pursue a line of questioning that could expose political beneficiaries of criminal activity. She shouted because she understands what is at stake not just reputations, but lives.
The bigger question is why the committee allowed a process that cut short critical interrogation. Why was there enough time for performance, but not for substance? Why are South Africans more interested in policing the tone of an MP than in demanding a full accounting of attempted murder, tender corruption and criminal networks?
If we are honest, this moment has exposed more about us than it has about Dereleen James. It has exposed our discomfort with righteous anger. It has exposed our appetite for spectacle over justice. It has exposed how easily we are distracted from the real villains by the volume of those confronting them.
South Africa cannot defeat corruption and gender-based violence with politeness. We cannot dismantle criminal syndicates with good manners. There are moments when calm is not a virtue, but a surrender. There are moments when shouting is not a lack of discipline, but a refusal to be silenced.
The attack on Dereleen James is, at its core, an attack on the idea that anger at injustice is legitimate. It is an attempt to delegitimise accountability by ridiculing the people who demand it most fiercely.
If we continue laughing at serious and damaging issues, if we continue turning parliamentary accountability into social media comedy, then we should not pretend to be shocked when the same forces of violence and corruption keep winning.
ActionSA stood its ground in that committee. Dereleen James did what she was sent to do. The real question is whether South Africa is still willing to stand with those who refuse to be quiet in the face of danger or whether we now prefer our injustice served calmly, politely and with perfect tone.