No turbocharge needed in the stylish Mazda CX-30

Mazda sales figures have declined terribly since the Covid-19 pandemic. The legacy brand was further pegged back by the arrival of Chinese manufacturers in South Africa  and is still on the road to recovery. 

The Mail & Guardian previously tested the brand’s flagship CX-60 and, from that vehicle, it was evident that Mazda is aiming to push into the luxury segment.

The brand has been given a lot of stick in the past few years for failing to evolve and manufacturing vehicles that seem outmoded. But, like the CX-60, the updated CX-30 is anything but outdated. 

I found the front of this compact SUV very attractive, with its polished, coupe-like shape complemented by sleek headlights. The thin bonnet lines close in towards the headlights and blend everything together very neatly in front. The black rims on the 18-inch alloys (of the tested vehicle) add to that feel.

However, the back is slightly disappointing and doesn’t really offer much. The tail lights are on their own — I felt that a light bar across the back would have added so much more to the exterior. 

The interior gives you that fancy feeling. The variant we tested was fitted with black and terracotta leather and suede stitching. It also had low seats, which echoed the look of the front of the vehicle. When you view the front, you can picture a similar interior — Mazda got this spot-on. 

The interior is fitted with a 12-speaker Bose system that allows clear sound throughout the car. Mazda has included a 10.25-inch infotainment system that is not a touchscreen but works through a dial on the centre console. 

This is a very clever feature of the manufacturer’s vehicles because it gives space between the user and the infotainment screen. Instead of having to poke your entire face into the screen while driving — which can also be distracting — it allows you to just move the dial as you need to toggle through the options on the screen. It will also pause action on the dial if you continue toggling for too long, to make sure that you keep your eyes on the road. 

But with all that style and convenience, something that the vehicle lacks is space. The front seats were not too comfortable on long journeys. I haven’t been to the gym in months and I had to keep adjusting my back while driving. 

The back is very tight. If you insert a car seat, you only have space for one more passenger. While I get that Mazda has bigger vehicles, and opted for a coupe-type SUV with the CX-30, this vehicle does fit into the compact SUV segment, so the amount of space for passengers is an issue. 

However, once you are on the road, the 2.0 Skyactiv G naturally aspirated engine that pushes out 121kW of power and 213Nm of torque makes the drive very pleasant.

Despite many disapproving of the naturally aspirated engine, in a turbocharged world, I quite like how the car picks up speed in a calm, linear fashion. Of course, you won’t feel that satisfying kick if you need to put your foot down and overtake other cars. Keep pushing your foot down and you might feel strain due to the low torque figure. But bear in mind this is by no means a performance vehicle.

The vehicle doesn’t feel stretched and the engine is very responsive. It handles perfectly for the size of the car and it feels uncomplicated to drive. 

Mazda has taken a driver-centric approach with this vehicle. Sometimes, I prefer this over technology that makes you feel like you are controlling a spaceship. 

The Mazda CX-30 has consistently received high safety scores, including the IIHS Top Safety Pick+ award and a five-star safety rating from Euro NCAP. 

It has front and rear parking sensors and rear cross-traffic alert, which is the equivalent of blind-spot detection in other vehicles. 

Overall, the Mazda CX-30 is a striking vehicle in the front, but lacks the same standard at the back. The interior was so impressive that I just wanted to stay in it. 

The drive and safety features make this car a good option for a small family or a single person. 

We tested the Individual (top-of-the-range) variant which is priced at R630 900. The Active edition will set you back R531 800, the Dynamic edition R569 800 and the Carbon edition R587 500. 

Alternatives in this segment include the VW T-Roc and the Peugeot 2008. If you need more space, those are recommended, but if you just want style and satisfaction, this might be the right choice for you.

Is the law indeed an ass in this case?

If it were to be established that the law is indeed as dumb as an ass, as suggested by English writer Charles Dickens in his 1838 novel Oliver Twist, what would society think?

Second, how does this understanding fit into the “fit and proper” paradigm sought by the Legal Practice Council, when it admits legal practitioners to practise law?

I prefer to use the lens of this analogy — “the law is an ass” — to understand the recent decision by the council to investigate Dali Mpofu, SC, for alleged impropriety or breach of its code of conduct. 

The ass — in the Dickensian world, a place characterised by squalor, poverty and social injustice — was known to be the dumbest creature under the sun. 

Its obstinacy in not doing what it was ordered to do was thought of as legendary.

Dickens, with his critical political mind, as we also saw in his masterpiece A Tale of Two Cities, makes it clear that the law becomes “an ass” when its application is rigid and not applied in keeping with prevailing conditions affecting the poor and oppressed.

To drive home his point, he makes an example of Oliver, the young title character of the novel, who had experienced a difficult upbringing, but his need was overlooked by the cruel and unjust system.

We must, then, even today, as Dickens suggested a couple of hundred years ago, infer that evil and unjust law practitioners are antithetical to what the “fit and proper” dictum connotes. 

Bad legal systems, adorned with repressive and unjust legislation, in many ways unconstitutional — and lacking respect for others — should be rejected by communities, as the apartheid system was in this country.

The implications for the law, as for the “fit and proper” paradigm, are stark when we turn a blind to an injustice. 

The “fit and proper person” requirement in South African law is a key criterion for admission — and readmission — to the legal profession. 

The would-be legal practitioner ought to pass the litmus test — the assessment of character, integrity and suitability — and, to top it all, to be above reproach. 

The law has to ensure that all, and not some, are treated as fairly as it is humanly possible without regard to status, that all should be seen to be equal before the law, and that to receive justice is to be aspired to.

Most tellingly, if the law is to escape community censure and judgment, it has to be seen as even-handed, not favouring a few and acting harshly against others, particularly vulnerable communities.

Which brings me to this fact — officers of the court, which is to say, advocates and attorneys, among others, ought to be advocates for the legal system of which they are a part to be just.

Politicians, most of the time, tend to pervert the system for their own nefarious reasons.

Not so long ago, chief whip and member of parliament of the uMkhonto weSizwe (MK) party Mzwanele Manyi told his colleagues that, if his party were to form a government it would scrap the constitutional framework as we know it today and revert to parliamentary sovereignty.

This view is shared by the MK party parliamentary leader John Hlophe, a former judge, and someone expected to have a comprehensive appreciation of constitutionalism.

Parliamentary sovereignty is a throwback to the apartheid-conceived 1961 Constitution. It stipulates that parliament “shall be the sovereign legislative authority in and over the Republic, and shall have full power to make laws for the peace, order and good government of the Republic”.

“[That]no court of law shall be competent to enquire into or to pronounce upon the validity of any Act passed by Parliament …”

This must then mean that the MK party, like the National Party that came to power in 1948, aligns itself with the arrangement by which the apartheid government used the parliamentary supremacy at its disposal “as a powerful instrument to secure power for the white minority”.

Supposing the MK party were to have its way, win elections and run the government, the implications for constitutional democracy seem dire.

Spelled out clearly, this would mean that unconstitutional laws and provisions could find themselves passing constitutional muster.

This would be to revert to the principle of the supremacy of the legislature, an obnoxious legal principle at odds with the notion of constitutional supremacy that holds that the Constitution is the ultimate legal authority. 

The principle of supremacy of the legislature would mean that the courts would be stripped of testing authority to determine, using the Bill of Rights, the constitutionality of laws passed by parliament.

The country would be back to old ways, as it was in the apartheid years, where the government rammed down the throats of black citizens legislation that infringed on their rights.

Now back to the “fit and proper” principle and the question of whether the law is an ass.   

Lawyers take an oath or make a declaration upon being admitted to the legal profession. This includes a pledge to uphold the law, act with integrity and be a “fit and proper” person to practise law. 

With that said, practitioners are the face of the legal system, and are duty-bound, by the fact that they have taken an oath, to strive to be “fit and proper”, to help guard against the perversion of the system by unscrupulous actors.

Could the so-called bad apples of society, if charged with crime in the court of law, be assumed innocent, however reprehensible their public record might suggest they are?

The law would be an ass if, without sound evidence, it found any person guilty, simply because of their shady past. Judges know this. And that is why they give deference, and assign no guilt, to suspects who are brought before them. 

In the end, it ought to be the lawyers, as officers of the court, who help the bench come to an appropriate decision — helping to show that the law is far from being an ass.

Dickens, in Oliver Twist, uses the phrase “the law is an ass” to draw a parallel between its inflexibility and the “mythical obstinacy of donkeys”. 

In legal contexts, a “fit and proper person” refers to someone deemed to be suitable to hold a specific position or role, particularly within the legal profession. 

This phrase is commonly used in relation to lawyers, signifying that they possess the necessary qualities, character and integrity to serve their clients and uphold the principles of justice. 

The origin of this concept is rooted in the need to ensure that those entrusted with representing clients and the administration of justice are trustworthy and reliable.

So, in sum, this is the point of this article — it seeks to show the extent to which the systems of justice and democracy are interwoven and that they ought to work seamlessly to achieve justice for the people of this country.

The players in a democracy ought to be committed to the true furtherance of justice, using constitutional law and constitutionalism to achieve that end.

In a democracy, there are no venerated “holy cows”, whether they be presidents, kings, queens, bishops, politicians, legal practitioners or citizens.

We ought to all be treated as equal. 

We hear all the rumblings from the followers of the MK party — which is hell-bent on changing the Constitution when “we come to power” — that Mpofu was unfairly treated by the Legal Practice Council. 

The council describes itself as “mandated to set norms and standards, to provide for the admission and enrolment of legal practitioners and to regulate the professional conduct of legal practitioners to ensure accountability”.

Mpofu has been called to answer charges of alleged misconduct. 

Like all others in the profession, he has to avail himself to a statutory body to account for the charges against him.

Legal practitioners, in order to be admitted to the profession, make a commitment, through oath, that they will become “fit and proper” for the practice.

South Africa is a democracy underpinned by the Constitution and the rule of law.

The MK party and its fellow travellers are seeking to subvert the cause of justice for their own political ends by suggesting that Mpofu is being persecuted.

He is not. He is being asked to be accountable. Mpofu is not a loose cannon. He is accountable to the law and to the council.  

When the law lacks compassion, and is not in tune with prevailing societal injustices, and turns a blind to injustices perpetrated by the powerful, then it fits the description of the novelist, Dickens: it is “an ass”.

Jo-Mangaliso Mdhlela is an independent journalist, a former trade unionist and an Anglican priest.

Looking back in black and white to see more clearly

Photo albums are a portal to another time — in which we might not even have been alive — and they allow us to find out more about people and spaces. 

That’s how I got to know that my mother was more than just my mother. Before she was the woman who packed my lunch and reminded me to take a jersey, she was a young girl, a student, a dreamer. She had secrets and desires captured in the grain of 35mm film.

She kept those rolls of film hidden in a cupboard that also held her ID book, her old payslips and an expired passport. It was a sacred place, guarded by dust and silence. 

I would sneak into that drawer like a pilgrim seeking truth, pull out the strips of negatives, and hold them up to the light. 

Through those tiny images, I saw her dancing barefoot at a house party, smiling in oversized sunglasses, standing next to strangers who looked like friends. Those glimpses into her past softened me. I loved her more tenderly, knowing where she came from.

That memory came rushing back when I stepped into the In Black and White analogue photographic exhibition at the UJ FADA Gallery. I was twenty minutes late — blame the Joburg traffic — but as soon as I walked in, time slowed down. 

I was met by Dr Landi Rauben-heimer, senior lecturer in design studies and the exhibition’s co-curator, with Bongani Khoza, lecturer in multimedia. They greeted me warmly as we stood in a space that buzzed with stillness and stories.

The room was filled with black-and-white images — arresting, nostalgic, deliberate. 

Works by South African legends like Santu Mofokeng and Ruth Seopedi Motau lined the walls. Their presence was not intimidating, but rather grounding. Their photos stood shoulder to shoulder with pieces by emerging photographers, bridging eras through shared humanity.

In the middle of the gallery were analogue cameras — some familiar, most foreign to my eyes. They were solid, heavy and commanding. One looked like it could double as a weapon. I almost knocked it over trying to get a better view of a photo. 

A gentle warning from Rauben-heimer brought me back to earth.

“This project has been a long time coming,” she told me. “I realised that some students thought that the filters they use on social media were just digital inventions. But really, they mimic the aesthetic of analogue photography.” 

The exhibition, she said, was born out of a desire to bridge that gap — between perception and reality, between the digital and the tangible.

Khoza nodded, adding that when the idea was proposed to him, he didn’t hesitate. 

“There was always a disconnect between the theory we teach and the actual doing. This exhibition became a way to merge both worlds. 

Students could see, touch, and feel the concepts they’ve been studying.”

The theme tying all these images together was portraiture. Not just the literal kind, but the kind that lingers — where a face becomes a map, a body becomes a story. 

Khoza laughed when he recalled early student submissions that looked more like passport photos than portraits: “We had to show them there’s more than one way to make a portrait,” he said.

Portraits, as Raubenheimer explained, have an arresting quality. 

“You capture someone in a moment, and that person will never be that age again, in that way again. There’s something deeply nostalgic about that.” 

She believes this is what resonates with students who have grown up on curated timelines and filtered memories. These black and white photos, though old-school, speak the same language — one of longing and preservation.

As students wandered through the exhibition, some pausing to eavesdrop on our conversation, I was reminded of my mother’s hidden photo rolls. Just like those negatives, the images at In Black and White held echoes of stories, pieces of lives paused mid-breath. Each frame a whispered reminder we are always more than who we are in the now.

Raubenheimer and Khoza hope the exhibition grows into a movement, a curriculum, a conversation. 

They see it as an invitation, not just for students, but for all of us to look again. To consider what we archive, how we remember and who gets to be seen.

And maybe, in looking back, we learn to see each other — and ourselves — a little more clearly.

The exhibition runs until 24 May at the FADA Gallery in Johannesburg.

How to humanise a robot

There is no escaping artificial intelligence. No matter how clever we think we are, our lives are going to be affected. We can only hope that it is in a good way, but many of us have grown accustomed to the threat of AI being there to take over our jobs.

It is quite possible that AI could do the job of designing and laying out the pages of the newspaper. ChatGPT could find the right combination of words and matching images for the front page — and do it all without cursing and complaining while actually making the deadline on Thursday afternoon.

The same goes for producing a weekly column. It just needs the right prompting: “Write a column in the style of Christian Stephen but make it less grumpy and leave out the dad jokes.”

So AI joins the long queue of threats to jobs in the media. And the situation is the same for anything involving creativity. Writing, music, art, architecture — it is all ripe for the artificial treatment. A Damien Hirst spot painting? Too easy. One of those two-minute punk bangers by The Ramones? Be serious!

These are just frivolous examples, because the limitless resources of the AI “machine” mean the real problem for us mere mortals is how to tell the difference between artificial intelligence and genuine stupidity.

This is particularly alarming for education. Students have naturally wholeheartedly embraced AI, because it makes researching and writing their assignments so much easier. ChatGPT is there to do the work. 

So artificial intelligence methods have had to be found for the teachers and lecturers to identify who has been using AI. The various institutions have had to develop policies and procedures to deal with this very modern method of “cheating”. 

And just when they think that all the proper measures are in place, along comes a new twist. There are now AI tools designed to humanise artificial intelligence. The assignment written by AI can be filtered to make it seem more “human”.

Not sure whether AI recognises the irony here but the students have to be careful not to put their assignment through the “humanising” tool too many times. It might just end up being the rambling, badly researched offering they could have achieved without any artificial assistance.

It would be helpful if artificial intelligence could tell us whether there are going to be any jobs that are safe from the AI invasion. Or are we all going to end up on the couch idly flipping through the AI-generated offerings on Netflix? Maybe there will be a new season of The Sopranos and we discover what really happened to Tony.

But, wait, our disgruntled abuse of the TV remote suddenly brings us to the sports channel. And here is football in all its messy human extremes: outrageous skill, stupid mistakes, boorish fans. Even AI can’t replicate Lionel Messi. The only sign of artificial intelligence here is the irritating VAR system.

The biggest problem with AI is that it is such an all-encompassing concept but it is not tangible. Where is it? What is it made of? 

There are some, who obviously haven’t embraced AI, who say “it is all in the cloud”, often while gazing heavenwards. I have been reliably informed that this is not where the cloud is. 

Artificial intelligence lives in the giant servers kept in well-guarded, fortified facilities. This vast repository of information is controlled by those disproportionately small “chips” that the United States refused to sell to China. 

This simplistic notion of AI still leaves me with the desire to “humanise” AI. 

And this is where that very old-fashioned idea of a robot comes in. Predictably it is the Chinese who have updated this concept with a troupe of humanoid robots performing a dance at a festival. 

Sport isn’t immune either with humanoids taking on humans in a half-marathon.

Imagine how inspiring it would be for weary Joburg residents to see an AI-driven robot-repairing robot striding through the city streets fixing the dead robots. Our battered traffic lights would be made theft proof, damage proof and load-shedding proof. Never again would we have to put our lives in the hands of those self-appointed traffic controllers at the busiest intersections whose only claim to authority is a dirty reflective vest worn over their ragged clothes.

The robot-fixing robots would probably be so intelligent that they would have plenty of time for a side hustle of filling in the potholes.

Brushing aside the question of what the robots do when that little box next to the line “I am not a robot” comes up online, the most important question for the AI robots to deal with is, of course, what is to be done with all the redundant humans. 

Once this little issue is solved they could turn to the more difficult problem of ensuring that there is a functioning democracy — but without the pesky politicians.