Did you hear that? Barely audible above the smug gloating and thunderous silence of those entrusted with guarding the laws of our country — a collective sigh of resignation. Because, let's face it, the JSC's decision to drop all misconduct charges against Cape Judge President John Hlophe was pretty damn inevitable.

Indeed, the South African public has become so accustomed to a failure of accountability and ease with which those connected to power wriggle out of sticky situations that, for the most part, we didn't even care what pathetic excuse the JSC conjured up to explain away their actions. Or, to be more technically correct, lack thereof.

I pre-empted my fury with the weightiness of inevitability. The flicker of hope that maybe this time, just for once, we would actually come near to discovering some glimmer of truth (whatever that truth may be) was quickly dulled by the JSC's meaningless nitpicking and splitting of hairs.

Their decision — that a full enquiry into Hlophe's alleged misconduct was not necessary — was based on the flimsy premise that while Hlophe did discuss a case he was not allowed to discuss with two Constitutional Court judges and while he did hint at how he would like them to rule on said case, he did not actually use the words: 'decide in favour of Zuma'.

This behaviour, they claimed, while "unwise, ill-considered, imprudent, not thought through", didn't amount to gross misconduct.

Ah. So, what — pray tell — would a judge have to do before the JSC begins to look into whether or not he is fit to hold office?

Before the entire bench of the Constitutional Court laid a complaint against Hlophe with the JSC, there had already been five previous complaints (dating back to 2004) laid against him with the regulatory body. All of these charges related to behaviour unbefitting a judge and, in each instance, the JSC found that there was insufficient evidence. Insufficient evidence to initiate an enquiry.

What, exactly, is the point of an enquiry if not to establish the truth?

And here lies the problem. The charges are dropped, but the truth is never really uncovered. The smear of the allegations lingers and the public loses faith in the judicial system. In this case, as with all the others, the public is forced to come to their own conclusions. For both parties cannot possibly be right.

So, do we lose faith in one judge — brand him a liar with a past full of indiscretions — or do we lose faith in the entire bench of Constitutional Court judges who thought the matter serious enough to lay a complaint? And, if we choose the latter, we are forced to admit that the Constitutional Court is a farce and, by extension, so too is our constitutional democracy.

Perhaps the JSC didn't think this through properly. Perhaps, it simply did not care. Perhaps those chosen to regulate our judiciary should be more carefully selected.

To ask the question that has puzzled philosophers and lawmakers since Plato wrote the Republic: Who will guard the guardians?

Plato's solution is that the guardians will guard themselves. That they will believe a 'noble lie' that they are better than those they serve and, as a result of this, will find it their responsibility to guard and protect those who cannot protect themselves.

If this is the case, South Africa needs to find new guardians.

Do you agree with Rebekah or is she making a big fuss about nothing? Share your thoughts below!

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