South Africans are not naïve. They know politics comes with power and power attracts privilege. But what they cannot accept is when privilege is disguised as protection and when rules are bent to serve family and faction rather than the public good.

The controversies surrounding Social Development Minister Sisisi Tolashe – undeclared luxury cars, the unlawful appointment of a 22-year-old chief of staff and the silencing of a whistle-blowing spokesperson – are not isolated incidents. And President Cyril Ramaphosa, who has promised renewal, must act. Take the cars.

Two BAIC vehicles, gifts from Chinese officials to the ANC Women’s League (ANCWL), were registered under the names of Tolashe’s children. Her defence? That she did so to prevent the cars being seized from the ANCWL, which she also leads.

But this explanation only worsens the problem. How can a top official hide assets from law enforcement agencies? Isn’t this a crime?

By moving organisational assets into her family’s names, she also blurred the line between party property and personal protection. Parliament requires declarations of such assets precisely to prevent this kind of ambiguity. Then there is the chief-of-staff scandal.

In August last year, Tolashe unlawfully appointed Lesedi Mabiletja, a former personal assistant and niece of her special advisor, Ngwako Kgatla, to one of the most senior administrative roles in the department. The Public Service Commission later confirmed the recruitment process violated employment policies. Mabiletja was suspended on full pay for months before resigning in January this year, without facing a disciplinary hearing.

For the grandmother in Mamelodi who waits anxiously for her grant, or the unemployed graduate in Alexandra who cannot break into the system, this scandal is a betrayal of their dignity. The clash with former spokesperson Lumka Oliphant adds another layer. Reports of Tolashe’s extravagant spending during a New York trip – allegedly R3 million in two weeks – were followed by Oliphant’s suspension, widely seen as punishment for leaking the information.

Whether Oliphant was insubordinate or simply inconvenient, this reeks of silencing dissent. Whistle-blowers should be protected, not persecuted. Ramaphosa’s silence risks endorsing a culture in which truth is punished and excess is rewarded.

With every rand wasted on indulgence, a rand is stolen from social relief. Every appointment made for loyalty rather than competence is a betrayal of the hungry child and the struggling pensioner. Every whistle-blower silenced is a nail in the coffin of accountability.

Ramaphosa has often been accused of dithering, of waiting for consensus before acting. But leadership is not about waiting for the wind to blow in your favour. It is about setting the direction, even when it is uncomfortable.

Acting against Tolashe – whether through suspension, investigation or removal – would send a clear message that renewal is not a slogan but a standard. It would reassure citizens that the president is willing to confront misconduct in his own ranks, not just in opposition benches. The effects of inaction are devastating.

Imagine the pensioner turned away because the system is clogged by incompetence. Imagine the unemployed graduate who sees underqualified insiders appointed to cushy posts while she is told to “wait her turn”. Imagine the whistle-blower who risks career and reputation to expose wrongdoing, only to be cast aside.

These are not perceptions; they are the lived realities of South Africans who deserve better. Ramaphosa’s presidency will be judged not by his promises, but by the actions he takes when integrity is compromised. Tolashe’s case is such a moment.

To act is to honour the promise of renewal. To delay is to confirm the cynicism that nothing ever changes. The choice is his, but the consequences belong to all of us.