NELSON MANDELA, South Africa’s first post-apartheid president, dedicated himself to strengthening institutions of the country’s nascent democracy; not least by stepping down after a single term. Bar the occasional blow, his successor, Thabo Mbeki, kept them broadly intact. Sadly, the current president, Jacob Zuma, seems bent on smashing their very foundations.

Under attack are some of the most efficient and respected bits of the state: its justice system, its revenue service and the office of the public protector. The criminal justice system, which was rebuilt after the end of apartheid, was widely admired for its boldness. Among those it prosecuted was a national police commissioner and stalwart of the ruling African National Congress (ANC), Jackie Selebi, who was jailed for corruption.

Yet in recent months several senior prosecutors and investigators have been sacked or have left office, many citing “family reasons”, after probing allegations of corruption with a little too much vigour. Several were looking into allegations that taxpayers had footed more than their share of the bill for a 246m-rand ($21m) “security” upgrade to the president’s palatial private homestead, known as Nklandla, in the hills of KwaZulu Natal. The taxpayers’ funds were meant to cover only security improvements such as fences and guardhouses around the complex. Yet they also paid for the construction of a swimming pool (ostensibly to provide a water reservoir for emergency firefighting), a chicken coop, a tuck-shop and an amphitheatre.

On January 26th came the resignation of Vas Soni, the head of the Special Investigating Unit (SIU), a corruption watchdog examining whether Mr Zuma had benefited illegally from state spending on his home. A few days later his lead detective in the investigation also handed in her resignation citing “personal” reasons.

Lest anyone probe again, the government is preparing a new law that will give the president and the justice minister “additional oversight” over the SIU’s work. If that’s not enough to defang it, the law will also give the heads of government departments and regional governments—often the targets of SIU probes—the right to “request” updates on its investigations.

Other investigative agencies are also being brought to heel. Anwa Dramat, the head of a crime squad called the Hawks, has been suspended, ostensibly for illegally deporting several Zimbabweans. But Mr Dramat claimed in court papers that he was being turfed out after probing the Nklandla scandal.

The South African Revenue Service, an apolitical tax collector, has also come under fire after clashing with the ruling party. Two senior officials, including the unit’s deputy commissioner, were suspended after their boss, a Zuma appointee, accused them of illegally investigating Mr Zuma.

A more colourful explanation for their suspension may be that they crossed paths with the government over a consignment of bright yellow T-shirts bearing the president’s grinning face. The T-shirts had been imported ahead of presidential elections in 2014 and were sported by Mr Zuma and his allies at all big election rallies. Yet the revenue service reportedly impounded them and refused to release them until import duties and taxes were paid, apparently to the chagrin of the ruling party.

Mr Zuma’s presidency has at least four more years to run unless the ANC decides to “recall” him – as it did Mr Mbeki. The “one man wrecking ball”, as a leading commentator, Max du Preez, described him, might yet survive. He is, after all, a seasoned political streetfighter. Some wonder, though, whether South Africa’s democracy will survive Mr Zuma.