From the opposition benches to the executive buffet, the principles of accountability have a curious habit of dissolving the moment the limousine doors glide open. It appears that political influence peddling is no longer exclusive to Saxonwold.
By Themba Khumalo
Let us pause for a collective moment of performative shock. Draw a hand to your chest, gasping in your finest English-suburb accent.
It turns out that State Capture is not a melanin-dependent sport. Who knew?
For years, the Democratic Alliance lectured us from their immaculate, solar-powered moral high ground, screeching about Saxonwold, the Guptas, and the desecration of the state.
But lo and behold, look what the GNU dragged in. The blue-eyed boys of South African politics have apparently decided that if you cannot beat the trough-feeders, you might as well gentrify the trough.
Enter Tony Leon: the DA’s eternal grandfather, GNU negotiator extraordinaire, and—allegedly—the frontman for a political influence racket that makes Bell Pottinger look like an amateur drama society.
It is a magnificent ethical downgrade, executed with the clinical precision of a corporate restructuring.
Seizing on this sudden deficit in the DA’s moral currency, ActionSA’s Michael Beaumont has penned an open letter to Tony that is an absolute masterpiece of political evisceration.
Let us unpick the carcass, shall we?
The King of the Backstage Pass
Tony Leon’s public relations firm, Resolve Communications, has been caught with its hand firmly on the door handles of DA ministries. But Tony says it is just “normal corporate lobbying.”
Oh, pull the other one, mate, it has bells on.
There is absolutely nothing “normal” about the man who literally stitched together the GNU—the man who decided which DA politicians got which fat cabinet ministerial portfolios—turning around five minutes later to knock on those exact same ministerial doors on behalf of billionaire tech-overlord Elon Musk.
As Beaumont notes in his lethal missive:
“You personally headed the DA’s team to negotiate the establishment of the GNU, including the composition of the same Cabinet on whose doors you later came knocking on behalf of your clients… It all appears very Saxonwold-esque, doesn’t it?”
When Communications Minister Solly Malatsi suddenly starts fast-tracking equity alternatives to let Starlink into South Africa, we are expected to believe it is just happy coincidence.
When the former DA leader meets with Starlink because Tony’s firm “urged” him to, we are expected to believe there was no undue pressure on poor Solly.
If you believe that, I have a pristine, pothole-free road in Johannesburg to sell you.
The Bodies in the Wake
The sheer body count of “former” DA ministers left in Resolve Communications’ wake is staggering. It is a political bloodbath:
- The Forestry & Environment Minister: Alleged he was repeatedly hounded by Tony’s firm to meet with corporate clients who were actively suing his own department. When he refused? He was booted out.
- The Agriculture Minister: Alleged he was pressured for meetings, and claims Tony’s firm actively backed the campaign to have him axed.
- Herman Mashaba: Cast your mind back to 2019. Tony allegedly rocks up to Mashaba’s house under the guise of “party politics,” only to pitch a R300 million contract for a private client. Mashaba kicked him out, and magically, Tony’s subsequent internal DA review blamed Mashaba for the party’s electoral decline. Talk about serving revenge on a silver platter.
It seems Tony does not just lobby; he allegedly operates a hire-and-fire boutique for state officials.
As Beaumont pulls no punches in declaring: “What is beginning to emerge resembles, in my opinion, a state capture racket, and this is why ActionSA has called on the President to institute an investigation into the actions of Resolve Communications.”
Beaumont Calls the Bluff: “Sue Me, Tony”
Tony is now doing what every cornered politician does: rattling his legal sabre and threatening defamation suits. But Beaumont’s response is a glorious, textbook bluff-calling: “Please remember to send those papers, Tony.”
It is a beautiful piece of political theatre from ActionSA. As an observer, one has to laugh—we all know it is remarkably easy for a politician to threaten a day in court, but it is an entirely different kettle of fish when Beaumont forces them to actually pitch up, under oath, and explain why corporate clients keep getting VIP access to state resources.
The very last thing a boutique PR firm wants is a subpoenaed list of clients exposed to the glare of a parliamentary portfolio committee.
The New Dawn, Same Old Dusk
The DA spent three long, exhausting decades branding the ANC as the sole, uniquely gifted architects of public degradation.
They built an entire political identity on the premise that they were simply too civilised, too professional, and far too fond of clean audits to ever succumb to the base temptations of state patronage.
Yet, the moment they get a mere sniff of the national treasury and a permanent seat at the executive table, access to the levers of power suddenly adopts the beautiful, fluid “spirit of multi-party co-operation.”
It appears that accountability is a luxury one can only afford while sitting on the opposition benches. The moment the limousine doors glide open, the principles have a curious habit of dissolving.
One can only imagine the scene in Dubai. The Guptas must be sitting on their gilded balconies, looking down at the evolving genius of Tony Leon with a mixture of awe and profound professional jealousy, muttering to themselves: “Damn, why did we not think of calling it a ‘corporate interface’?”
ActonSA’s Beaumont is telling Tony to keep rattling his legal sabre until the blades blunt.
But from where the rest of the republic sits, the stage makeup is melting, the mirrors are cracking, and the electorate is thoroughly sick of the familiar stench of elite capture—regardless of whether it is spoken with a Saxonwold accent or an immaculate, old-money English cadence.
Beaumont wants the legal papers sent; the rest of us just want a brief, unvarnished glimpse of the truth before the next cabinet reshuffle.
As for me? Someone please hand me the popcorn and the peanuts. I do not mind pairing such common street-theatre fare with a generous pour of a fine, deeply matured single malt.
There is an exquisite, dark comedy in watching the self-appointed guardians of the republic descend into the mud.
So, as the bewildering, peat-soaked aroma of the whisky hits the nose, I shall simply lean back, swirl the glass, and watch this absolute political brawl unfold.