The tragic assassination of Marius van der Merwe — widely known as “Witness D” in the proceedings of the Madlanga commission — has once again thrust a painful truth into the national discourse: in SA, those who dare to expose wrongdoing are more likely to face retaliation than protection. Instead of confronting this reality with honesty and urgency, some public officials have resorted to scapegoating the media for allegedly revealing his identity and placing him in harm’s way. This is neither accurate nor fair.
To begin with, the media has shown considerable restraint throughout the commission’s work.
No credible report exists showing that journalists publicly disclosed Witness D’s personal details before his assassination.
Those who sought to harm him did not need a newspaper headline to identify their target. By virtue of his role and long-standing efforts against deeply entrenched criminal syndicates, he carried a metaphorical target on his back — long before he ever testified.
It is also reported that an attempt had already been made on his life months earlier. At a minimum, this should have triggered a heightened risk posture and proactive engagement from authorities.
Yet, rather than interrogating the adequacy of state protection and security responses, we are being asked to believe that the mere act of testifying — and subsequent media coverage — is to blame.
That is a convenient narrative. It is also profoundly false.
As seasoned broadcaster Redi Tlhabi correctly observed, Witness D’s assassination could well be linked to several sensitive matters he was involved in, including the disruption of illegal mining, illicit settlements and corruption in parts of Ekurhuleni — networks from which unscrupulous officers and criminals alike have profited handsomely.
As seasoned broadcaster Redi Tlhabi correctly observed, Witness D’s assassination could well be linked to several sensitive matters he was involved in, including the disruption of illegal mining, illicit settlements and corruption in parts of Ekurhuleni — networks from which unscrupulous officers and criminals alike have profited handsomely.
To assume that his killing stems solely from his evidentiary role at the Madlanga commission is not only speculative; it obscures the wider, systemic dangers he faced.
Minister of justice Mamoloko Kubayi has suggested that Witness D refused to enter the witness protection programme. Even if true, this cannot absolve the state. Individuals who enter such programmes are not merely signing up for secure accommodation — they are sacrificing the rhythm of their lives: their families, work, financial stability and social support systems.
The question, then, is not whether he refused protection, but what measures were offered to ensure that acceptance of protection was a viable option.
Was the state persuasive? Did protection involve safeguarding his family, his business and his livelihood? Was he supported in navigating the emotional and psychological toll that such upheaval entails?
These questions have not yet been answered.
Instead, we are urged to look elsewhere — conveniently away from the state’s heavy burden to prevent preventable deaths.
We need only recall those who walked this path before him to understand where the real responsibility lies.
Babita Deokaran was murdered after flagging corruption within the Gauteng department of health.
Mpho Mafole was silenced after exposing serious corruption within the Ekurhuleni municipality.
Lt-Col Frans Mathipa was assassinated, allegedly by members of the armed forces, for probing their criminal conduct.
Ronald Mani and Timson Musetsho were gunned down for uncovering VBS corruption.
Vaaltyn Kekana, Ralph Kanyane, Mabidi Izzy Machaba and Sammy Mpatlanyane were all executed because they tried to hold power to account — not because the media betrayed them.
The uncomfortable, devastating truth is this: they died because the state failed them.
We can make all the right speeches about a “new era of accountability”. We can convene commissions, panels and task teams. But when the brave citizens who risk their livelihoods — and in too many cases, their lives — to provide evidence are left without proper protection, our democratic institutions are revealed as brittle facades.
Witness D’s case is a test of the government’s sincerity. Will this moment provoke introspection? Or will officials continue to deflect responsibility?
Witness D’s case is a test of the government’s sincerity. Will this moment provoke introspection? Or will officials continue to deflect responsibility?
Blaming journalists is a disservice to democracy. An independent, vigilant media is essential to exposing the very corruption that makes whistleblowers necessary in the first place. When the government targets the press, it risks aligning itself with the perpetrators of wrongdoing rather than with those who resist it.
SA stands at a dangerous crossroads. Criminal syndicates have become so emboldened that eliminating a whistleblower is not merely an act of violence — it is a message.
A message to officials: stay silent. A message to investigators: look away. A message to society: the rule of law is optional.
If we allow that message to stick, then the erosion of our constitutional order is no longer hypothetical — it is actively underway.
What is needed is not scapegoating, but a decisive overhaul of whistleblower and witness protection.
Courageous citizens such as Deokaran, Mafole, Mani and Musetsho acted not for personal gain but for the public good. To honour them is not to praise their bravery in death, but to protect those who are still alive — and at risk.
Instead of casting aspersions on the media, Kubayi should be articulating concrete measures to overhaul and cleanse the witness protection system — a system in which incontrovertible evidence shows that some corrupt officials “run with the hares and hunt with the hounds”.
Far too often, individuals who are offered protection decline not out of stubbornness or recklessness, but because they do not trust the very machinery that is supposed to safeguard their lives. They fear that sensitive information shared in confidence will fall into the hands of those who threaten them.
This is not a theoretical concern; it is the lived experience of whistleblowers across the country. When protection officers or law enforcement insiders are compromised, when they are suspected of colluding with the very criminals they are tasked to stop, the so-called “safe house” becomes just another vulnerability.
Kubayi’s remarks, unfortunately, fail to acknowledge this reality. Instead of rebuilding confidence in the criminal justice system, her comments risk deepening the public’s distrust in the state’s protective capabilities.
They send the troubling message that blame lies not with flawed state systems or corrupt actors within them, but with those who expose the rot — and those who report on it.
Lest we forget, an independent, vibrant media remains an essential source of illumination, ensuring transparency and accountability.
South Africans deserve reassurance that the state is actively repairing what is broken: rooting out rogue officers, ejecting corrupt politicians, strengthening internal oversight, improving risk assessments and ensuring that entering witness protection does not require sacrificing one’s family stability or economic survival. That is the conversation the country urgently needs — not another attempt to divert responsibility onto the press.
History will judge how deliberately and diligently we confront the failures that have cost too many lives. We must choose: a democracy defended by the courageous or a democracy abandoned to fear.
The stakes could not be higher.
- Khaas is chairperson of Public Interest SA
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