I think I speak for all of us as a country to say that we will never refer to Cyril as Cupcake ever again because we do not need to sanitize that man’s image.

You know, the way in which state funds are handled in this country is actually ridiculous.

State funds should essentially be impenetrable for anyone, right?

But we’ve seen a gross negligence in how money is handled in this country, which is upsetting because that’s yours and mine’s taxes, right?

And it still bothers me so much that Cyril is literally the most incompetent president we’ve ever had.

But that is hardly ever discussed in media, which also like lets us know that there’s a lot of people that are on his payroll.

That man’s proximity to corruption should have led to him being impeached a long time ago.

But here he is, still running this country without a care in the world.

The man addresses absolutely nothing.

He does absolutely nothing but eats the money with his boys.

It’s actually insane that that man is still our president.

The rising public sentiment in South Africa, often expressed through social media and alternative media platforms, suggests a growing disillusionment with President Cyril Ramaphosa’s leadership, leading to a direct and startling comparison with his scandal-ridden predecessor, Jacob Zuma.

The argument is not necessarily a defense of the Zuma era but rather a fierce critique that frames the current administration’s failures as equally, if not more, detrimental, particularly due to a perceived mask of competence and a powerful Public Relations (PR) machine that the previous president lacked.

The frustrations articulated by citizens across the nation, often referred to as ‘Mzansi,’ center on two primary pillars: incompetence and systemic corruption—both of which the Ramaphosa presidency was meant to eradicate.

Instead, many now feel a betrayal of the “New Dawn” promises.

The speaker’s passionate dismissal of the moniker “Cupcake” is emblematic of the frustration with the media narrative surrounding Ramaphosa—a narrative many believe was deliberately constructed to present a soft, grandfatherly, and non-threatening image, effectively shielding him from the intense public scrutiny Jacob Zuma faced.

This “sanitization” of his image, as the speaker puts it, is seen as a key factor in the lack of sustained, high-energy public demands for his removal, similar to the powerful “Zuma Must Go” campaigns.

The core of the matter is the gross mismanagement and alleged misuse of state funds.

The phrase “State funds should essentially be impenetrable for anyone” highlights the fundamental breakdown of governance and accountability.

While the Zuma era was characterized by overt State Capture, the Ramaphosa presidency is increasingly being criticized for perpetuating a more subtle, yet equally damaging, form of financial negligence and corruption that persists despite the findings of the Zondo Commission.

This continuity of financial mismanagement, funded by “yours and mine’s taxes,” fuels the argument that the change in leadership merely swapped one set of problems for another, leaving the taxpayer worse off.

The accusation of the President being “literally the most incompetent president we’ve ever had” is a severe indictment.

It’s argued that this incompetence is not being fully aired by mainstream media, leading to the suspicion of a widespread “payroll” phenomenon where journalists and commentators are incentivized to downplay or ignore the President’s failures.

The mention of Ramaphosa’s “proximity to corruption” refers implicitly to the highly controversial Phala Phala scandal, where the theft of a large amount of foreign currency from his private game farm raised serious questions about foreign currency regulations, tax compliance, and money laundering.

For critics, the way this scandal was handled—with its complex legal and political maneuvering—demonstrates a protected status that former President Zuma did not enjoy.

This protection is interpreted as the reason Ramaphosa is “still running this country without a care in the world,” seemingly able to ignore major national issues.

Let’s have a brief conversation about Cyril Ramaphosa in the media.

There was a leaked voice note a few weeks ago about him commenting about the SABC and how they need to, they must report positively about the ANC.

This point about media influence is critical to the public perception of Ramaphosa’s difference from Zuma.

The leaked audio, widely reported in early 2022, indeed suggested a chilling proximity between the ruling party and the state broadcaster, the SABC.

While the Presidency’s spokespersons and ANC officials attempted to manage the fallout, the perception that Ramaphosa sought to “dictate and manipulate how the media reports on government and the ANC” persisted.

For the public, this undermines the promise of a clean, transparent government and suggests a level of control over the public narrative that is profoundly undemocratic.

But that’s not it.

If anyone remembers in June/July when Mzwanele Manyi had his press briefing, the state of the nation address, president was in Brazil.

Sophie Mokoena was the only journalist who asked him to comment on what is going on back at home.

What was his response?

If you remember, very random response.

He asked Sophie Mokoena, “Are you not tired? How long have you been working?”

I thought it was very strange until a few weeks later news headlines that Sophie Mokoena was retiring from the SABC broke.

And I find it quite, I found it quite strange.

Was it a coincidence?

This anecdote about the interaction with the seasoned SABC journalist, Sophie Mokoena, further feeds the narrative of the President exerting subtle, yet powerful, influence over journalists who dare to ask challenging questions.

The suggestion that the President’s seemingly innocuous question about her being “tired” and how long she had been working was a thinly veiled suggestion or warning, particularly when followed by her retirement, highlights the chilling effect that top political power can have on media independence.

The coincidence, as the speaker notes, is viewed with deep suspicion by those who believe the President’s administration actively works to silence dissenting or investigative voices.

The conversation then shifts to a specific political commentator: Dr. Lazarus Muia (whose name is often cited in various media debates).

There is this guy, Dr. Lazarus Muia, as we hang, that is his name.

Yeah.

Stone change agency member from Limpopo.

I don’t know why, Kiboni.

I see his feeds about him making analysis of um… Gwede Mantashe and Police Minister Bheki Cele.

The speaker criticizes Dr. Muia, labeling him as “very much inconsistent” and having “no moral standing.”

The criticism stems from the commentator’s apparent inconsistency in applying moral standards.

Specifically, the speaker notes that Dr. Muia was among those who led a high-profile campaign from Limpopo to say “Zuma must go” during the height of the State Capture revelations.

Yet, this same figure is now “very quiet” when it comes to the current administration’s scandals, such as Phala Phala.

“He says nothing about the Phala Phala. He’s very quiet when it comes to this thing.”

This double standard is central to the speaker’s frustration with party and factional politics.

It exposes the hypocrisy of individuals who use moral and anti-corruption rhetoric to oppose one faction (Zuma) but then become defenders of their own faction (Ramaphosa), even when faced with serious allegations.

The speaker argues that this factional loyalty means individuals will “defend your person to such an [extent] even when they do wrong things that harm the country.”

This defense of dubious characters is further illustrated by the analysis of testimony given by ministers or officials in commissions of inquiry.

The speaker highlights the absurdity of defending evasiveness and lack of clarity.

A key point of contention for the speaker, although not widely substantiated by credible sources in mainstream news, is the specific, serious, and politically explosive (though often unverified) accusation: “by the way, your President, your President has three IDs. We now know.”

While this particular claim about multiple IDs is not a standard, publicly verified charge against Ramaphosa in major news reports, it reflects the level of outlandish and damaging rumors that circulate and gain traction in the political discourse, serving to further erode trust and make the President appear “dubious.”

The speaker concludes with a direct appeal to the South African populace, demanding a return to the same level of political activism and moral outrage that characterized the anti-Zuma movement.

I’m saying one thing that I’m saying to South Africans is that the same energy that we invested in Zuma Must Go, we should do it to Cyril Ramaphosa, because he is not doing anything.

And this thing of him having a PR, it’s not working, because we cannot be calling a cupcake someone that is like that.

It’s not even [close].

The message is clear: the perceived PR-driven “lovable image of a grandpa” must be dismantled, and the energy of protest must be redirected toward the current head of state.

The comparison is less about who is objectively worse and more about the subjective feeling of betrayal: Zuma was openly controversial, prompting mass resistance; Ramaphosa promised reform but is perceived as failing while being protected by a powerful narrative machine, thus necessitating an equally fierce reaction from the public.