EFF supporters queued up in red berets, their voices steady in tune as a chilly breeze blew through the courthouse steps of East London. Many had made their journey during the night. Their allegiance was practically hereditary, not merely symbolic. After all, Julius Malema has always been more than just a political figure. He has turned into a person that both hope and frustration revolve around.
Malema aimed a weapon skyward and fired into the air during a tearful rally in 2018. It was a planned moment, purposefully dramatic. The audience roared in applause. Everything was captured on camera. The deed was like a fleeting thundercloud in the news for a while. But the legal storm then arrived. AfriForum pursued charges, being especially outspoken and persistent. What appeared to be a spectacle soon became a trial.
Malema was found guilty by a South African court in late 2025 of a number of charges, including reckless endangerment, unlawful discharge, unauthorized possession of a firearm, and a separate hate speech conviction. By legal terms, it was a definitive decision. But for Malema, it was a turning point. His political career is currently perilously close to the precipice. He will be immediately removed from the exact platform on which he most passionately flourishes if he is sentenced to more than 12 months in prison without the possibility of a fine.
| Name | Julius Malema |
|---|---|
| Title | Leader of the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) |
| Charges | Unlawful possession of firearm, ammunition, discharge in public, reckless endangerment, hate speech |
| Sentence Status | Awaiting sentencing (next hearing: April 15, 2026) |
| Convicted | October 2025 |
| Potential Sentence | Up to 15 years imprisonment |
| Notable Incident | Fired rifle during EFF rally in 2018 |
| Source | https://www.reuters.com/world/africa/malema-sentencing-2026 |
His defense team has called the gun a replica in recent weeks. They have fervently maintained that the act was symbolic rather than menacing. However, Twanet Olivier, the magistrate, didn’t seem to agree. She was quite clear in her speech of the verdict. Her careful, incisive wording made it clear that charm or background were not grounds for forgiveness.
This prosecution has brought to light a much more significant question: what happens when the identity of a political movement is so strongly linked to one person? Malema has been a vital component of the EFF. He became the architecture of the party, not just its builder. Without him in Parliament, the system might either fall apart or, interestingly, change.
Malema continues to be an extremely powerful voice for young voters, particularly those facing unemployment, inequality, and inherited injustice. He speaks with the rhythm of someone who has nothing to lose, which may be very convincing when institutional confidence has been significantly damaged.
The video is still indisputable, though. The rifle went off. The act took place in front of a live audience under bright sky, whether it was significant or not. This case raises a significant issue as politics becomes more performative: what constitutes spectacle and where should courts draw the line?
I once saw the audience’s facial expressions when I was rewatching a video of the rally. They were not scared. They were thrilled. The gun might have represented strength to them, perhaps regaining space. However, the courts interpreted it as an indication of carelessness, perhaps even deliberate provocation.
Malema’s actions are within a delicate balancing act in the context of South Africa’s precarious post-apartheid discourse. His message, frequently delivered through remarkably divisive speech, opposes unhealed divisions and systematic privilege. People refer to it as essential agitation. Some characterize it as a danger to national unity.
By opposing individuals such as AfriForum and, consequently, historical injustices, Malema has built a unique form of oppositional politics. But this tactic also makes one vulnerable. When irritated, legal institutions frequently retaliate with surprising accuracy.
Speculation has been increasing since the pre-sentencing hearings began in January. He would be able to continue serving in Parliament with a fine or suspended term. More serious things wouldn’t. And the timing couldn’t be more strategic—or risky—with the national elections coming up.
Public perception is yet another layer. A severe punishment might provoke criticism and bolster Malema’s base of supporters. Alternatively, it might force the EFF to rise beyond the shadow of its founder and make room for new leadership. In each case, the consequences of the decision go far beyond the confines of the courtroom.
It’s especially high stakes. Leadership in South Africa is currently being reevaluated, particularly among younger generations. People are searching for voices that give astonishingly effective road maps for the future in addition to challenging the past. This April will be crucial in determining whether Malema retains that position or relinquishes it against her will.
“He’s fighting for people like me,” a woman in line told a neighboring reporter while clutching an old EFF scarf during the most recent court break. Silently expressed, the feeling was more powerful than any formal document. Because politics is still rife with passion, memory, and conviction notwithstanding legal frameworks and judicial etiquette.
The court is currently on hold. However, it hasn’t forgotten. On April 15, the gavel will return, and South Africa might have to deal with more than simply a sentencing. It might mark the beginning of a new era in politics, one that is either characterized by continuity or unanticipated change.
And as for Malema, the man who once made Parliament seem like a stage, he might soon experience what it’s like to step down—not with cheers, but with consequences.
