The recent suspension of Prof Sakhela Buhlungu as the vice-chancellor and principal of the University of Fort Hare, has once again thrust the institution into the national spotlight.
This time it’s not for student unrest or infrastructure crises, but for a question that cuts to the heart of institutional governance: when does procedural failure justify executive sanction, and when does it mask deeper political currents?
At the centre of the controversy lies the vice-chancellor’s decision to appoint executive directors without first securing the formal approval of the council and senate.
While the subsequent request for ratification suggests an attempt to regularise the process, critics argue that the act itself undermined established governance protocols.
Supporters, however, contend that this was, at worst, a procedural lapse rather than an ethical breach warranting suspension.
This distinction is critical.
Universities, particularly public institutions such as Fort Hare, operate within a governance framework that balances executive authority with collective oversight.
The vice-chancellor is entrusted with operational leadership while remaining accountable to council and senate structures designed to safeguard institutional integrity.
When these lines blur, the consequences are not merely administrative — they are symbolic.
They signal either a breakdown in governance or a contest over power.
But the question remains: does this specific act by Buhlungu rise to the level of misconduct?
In many organisations, executive decisions are occasionally taken in anticipation of formal approval, particularly where operational urgency is concerned.
The key issue is whether such decisions are made in good faith and whether they ultimately align with institutional policy.
If Buhlungu’s appointments were substantively sound and later ratifiable, then the procedural misstep — while serious — may not justify the severity of suspension.
This is where the council’s role is equally scrutinised.
Was the suspension a proportionate response aimed at reinforcing governance standards, or does it reflect a deeper fracture within the institution’s leadership?
The timing and decisiveness of the action raises important questions about consistency.
Have similar procedural deviations in the past been met with comparable sanctions?
Or is this an isolated instance of enforcement?
The shadow of politics cannot be ignored.
Fort Hare occupies a unique place in SA’s political and intellectual history.
It has long been more than just a university, it is a symbolic space where academic leadership, state interests, and political influence intersect.
In this context, governance decisions are rarely insulated from broader political dynamics.
The suspension of a vice-chancellor, therefore, is never just about procedure; it is also about power.
The situation invites uncomfortable parallels with It’s Our Turn to Eat, a book that interrogates how institutions can become arenas for patronage and contestation under the guise of formal processes.
While it would be premature to draw direct equivalence, the cautionary lesson remains relevant: when governance mechanisms are selectively applied or politically influenced, they risk losing legitimacy.
This is not to suggest that council acted in bad faith.
On the contrary, it is entirely plausible that the suspension was a necessary step to uphold governance standards and send a clear message about procedural compliance.
Institutions cannot afford to normalise deviations, especially at the executive level.
Yet, fairness demands that due process be transparent, consistent, and insulated from factional interests.
Without this, disciplinary actions risk being perceived as punitive rather than corrective.
For Fort Hare, the stakes are high. Its credibility depends not only on the outcomes of such disputes, but on the fairness and integrity of the processes that resolve them
Ultimately, the Buhlungu affair is less about one decision and more about what it reveals: a university grappling with the tension between authority and accountability, procedure and pragmatism, governance and politics.
For Fort Hare, the stakes are high. Its credibility depends not only on the outcomes of such disputes, but on the fairness and integrity of the processes that resolve them.
The question, then, is not simply whether Buhlungu was wrong — but whether the institution is right.
Nandipha Mabindisa works within the higher education sector with a background in industrial psychology and monitoring and evaluation. She writes in her personal capacity.
