By Joon Chong, Partner at Webber Wentzel
If South African tax were a fable, it would feature three enduring characters: the weary taxpayer, the watchful SARS, and the elusive concept known ascertainty. All three appear in our legislation, but only one consistently shows up in practice — SARS.
The taxpayer, meanwhile, wanders through labyrinths of interpretation notes, explanatory memoranda, cases and rulings, searching for the promised land of compliance. Somewhere between section 11(a) and paragraph 80 of the Eighth Schedule, they pause to ask: “Is this deductible, or am I simply hopeful?”
And certainty — that most noble of tax ideals — remains the unicorn of our fiscal landscape. It is invoked in policy speeches and discussion papers, usually alongside phrases such as “taxpayer confidence” and “ease of doing business.” Yet as with all mythical creatures, it tends to vanish when needed most — for example, at 23h00 on the eve of a deadline, when an invoice is vaguely described as “services rendered.”
The Oracle of SARS
To its credit, SARS has become something of an oracle — though, as with those of ancient myth, its answers are often cryptic. A taxpayer asks: “Is this supply zero-rated?” and the oracle responds: “It depends.” In tax language, that is the gentle equivalent of, “You will discover the answer after the audit.”
Technology was meant to simplify the journey. Yet eFiling sometimes behaves less as a portal and more as a gatekeeper with discretionary powers. On a good day, it opens smoothly. On a bad day, it informs the taxpayer that they are “not authorised for this function,” as though invoking section 95 of the Tax Administration Act.
There is a certain rhythm in this dance between taxpayer and authority — a choreography of mutual suspicion and reluctant co-operation, both sides convinced of their reasonableness, each occasionally frustrated by the other’s interpretation of “within a reasonable time.”
The Tax Administration Act: Modern art in legislative form
The Tax Administration Act (TAA) deserves recognition as one of South Africa’s great works of modern literature. It contains drama (chapter 5), suspense (section 99), and the occasional twist worthy of a courtroom thriller.
Few experiences rival the tension of receiving a section 46 request for information. The taxpayer reads the letter, heart pounding, scrolling to find the deadline. Relief follows when they see “within 21 days” — until they recall that SARS counts days as calendar days, not business days. Welcome to the SARS world.
If Shakespeare had known the TAA, he might have written: “To disclose, or not to disclose — that is the question.”
The Philosophy of Deduction
Income tax law is, at its heart, a philosophical pursuit. Section 11(a) is not simply a rule of deduction; it is a meditation on purpose. What does it mean to incur an expense “in the production of income”? Must the income exist first, or is a genuine expectation enough?
Every transaction becomes an exercise in judgment: to claim or not to claim; to capitalise or expense. The law demands both honesty and imagination. Too little imagination, and the taxpayer pays too much. Too much, and one may find oneself explaining “substance over form” to an auditor who does not share one’s appreciation for interpretive nuance.
Then there is VAT — the philosopher’s stone of tax. It transforms ordinary transactions into puzzles of time, place, and value. When is a supply made? Where is it made? And what, exactly, constitutes “consideration”? The VAT Act provides answers, though seldom in the same paragraph.
The Virtue of Tax Morality
There was a time when paying tax was seen as a civic virtue. Yet in a cruel irony worthy of our fiscal fable, the shrinking tax base has transformed compliance into a form of punishment. The more diligent the taxpayer, the more likely they are to find themselves under SARS’s microscope — as though virtue itself has become suspicious. Meanwhile, billions leak from the fiscus through wastage and corruption.
Still, there remains a certain dignity in compliance — not out of fear, but out of respect for the rule of law. Each return submitted, each objection lodged, each dispute resolved — these are small affirmations that, despite bureaucracy and fatigue, each of us carry the fiscal weight where too many in our society cannot and do not. The arithmetic is stark. 978 140 individuals or 1.5% of the SA population pay more than 60% of personal income tax, of which under 240 000 contribute a third of the total.
The Tax Professional: Calm Amidst Complexity
In this fable, the tax professional is the quiet hero. Equipped with the TAA and a calm disposition, they guide clients through the maze with patience and precision. They translate SARS correspondence into human language and remind anxious taxpayers that a “penalty” is not always fatal — even when it concerns understatement.
The adviser’s greatest strength is technical expertise and persistence. Amid excruciating delays, shifting laws, automated assessments, and the occasional eFiling rebellion, persistence has become the currency of survival.
When the day ends — after the objection is filed, the client reassured, and the Act closed — the adviser returns home knowing that even small victories matter. In tax, they always have.
The Moral of the Story
Our tax system, as with all enduring fables, reflects the human condition: intricate, rule-bound, occasionally absurd, but ultimately striving for balance. The mythical creatures of tax — certainty, simplicity, and trust — may remain elusive, but the pursuit of them sustains the system.
Perhaps one day SARS will publish a guide that says, simply, “Yes. This is deductible.” Until then, taxpayers, advisers, and the fiscus will continue their delicate dance — bound together by law, logic, and the shared hope that justice, in the end, will prevail.
