In a move that surprises absolutely no one with a functioning cerebral cortex, the South African National Treasury has decided that the best way to ‘cure’ the nation’s burgeoning gambling addiction is to take a twenty-percent cut of the action. It is the ultimate protection racket, dressed up in the ill-fitting suit of public health. The government has announced a proposed 20% tax on online gambling, a sector currently expanding at a rate that suggests the populace has collectively decided that ‘putting it all on red’ is a more viable economic strategy than relying on the state’s ability to keep the lights on. This is not a policy; it is a confession of predatory intent. To suggest that a tax hike is intended to ‘slow’ addiction is like a bartender claiming he’s helping an alcoholic by charging an extra two dollars for a shot of cheap tequila—it doesn’t stop the drinking; it just ensures the bartender gets a nicer car while the patron dies of cirrhosis.

The Treasury’s logic, if one can debase the word by applying it here, is that making gambling more expensive will somehow discourage the desperate. It reveals a profound, perhaps intentional, misunderstanding of the addicted mind. When the economy is a smoldering ruin and the future looks like a repetitive loop of bureaucratic failure, the citizen doesn't look for a diversified portfolio; they look for a miracle. They look for the digital slot machine or the sports betting app to provide the escape the government has failed to deliver through actual governance. By slapping a 20% tax on these transactions, the state isn’t ‘slowing’ the betting. It is simply ensuring that it becomes a senior partner in the business of selling false hope. The government is essentially saying, ‘We realize you’re throwing your rent money away, and we’d like to remind you that 20% of that rent money belongs to the very people who made the economy this miserable in the first place.’ It is a feedback loop of incompetence and extraction that would make a medieval feudal lord weep with envy.

Then there is the matter of the deadline. The National Treasury has graciously extended the public comment period to 27 February 2026. Yes, 2026. In the world of high-speed fiber optics and instant digital transactions, the South African government moves with the glacial lethargy of a sedated snail. This extension isn't an act of democratic generosity; it is a white flag of administrative impotence. It suggests a regime so paralyzed by its own weight that it cannot even figure out how to steal more efficiently in a timely manner. Or, more cynically—and cynicism is the only lens through which this farce makes sense—it provides an ample two-year window for lobbyists, betting syndicates, and corporate interests to ‘consult’ with officials. In the vernacular of the South African political class, ‘consultation’ is often just a polite euphemism for the delicate negotiation of kickbacks. They want their 20%, but they’ll take their time deciding which pockets that percentage will eventually line.

On the other side of this transaction are the gamblers themselves—a demographic that seems determined to prove that Darwin was an optimist. These are individuals who, faced with the crushing reality of a declining GDP and a crumbling infrastructure, decide that the most logical course of action is to hand their meager earnings to a server located in a tax haven. The ‘addiction’ the Treasury claims to combat is merely a symptom of a deeper, more terminal stupidity. People are betting because they’ve given up on the idea of work actually yielding a reward. And why shouldn’t they? When the state functions as a massive, inefficient casino where the rules are made up as they go and the payouts only go to the well-connected, why not try your luck on a soccer match in the third tier of the Greek league? At least the betting app provides a clear UI for your inevitable loss, which is more than can be said for the Department of Home Affairs.

Ultimately, this 20% tax is a masterpiece of performative morality. The Left will pretend it’s a strike against the ‘predatory gambling industry,’ ignoring that it’s the poor who will pay the tax while the industry leaders simply adjust their margins. The Right will grumble about ‘state interference’ while secretly wishing they’d thought of a way to tax misery first. Both sides are irrelevant. The reality is a state that has run out of productive things to tax and has now turned its sights on the vices it has implicitly encouraged through its own failure. It is the house that always wins, not because it plays well, but because it owns the table, the cards, and the very air the players breathe. By 2026, when this tax finally limps into existence, there may not be much left to bet on, but you can be certain the National Treasury will be there, hand outstretched, waiting for its share of the collapse.