The South African Revenue Service (SARS) has been named the country’s most prolific and efficient extortion syndicate. With its unmatched ability to extract money from the innocent and the guilty alike, SARS has now firmly cemented its position as the kingpin of South African "protection" services.

Unlike their street-level competition—the so-called “construction mafias” and “protection syndicates” terrorizing small businesses—SARS has perfected its extortion model by cloaking it in bureaucracy, paperwork, and a polite veneer of "national service."

“We’ve been doing this for decades,” boasted a SARS spokesperson, who requested anonymity in the interest of protecting their pension. “The others are amateurs compared to us. We don’t need guns or threats to make you pay up—we simply send you a form. You’re more likely receive your mail on time through the Post Office, than dodge a SARS demand.”

The brilliance of SARS lies in its unique strategy: creating confusion, imposing fines, and then sitting back while their targets beg for leniency. Unlike the other extortion gangs, who need to physically show up at your business to demand their cut, SARS operates through the stealthy weapon of tax codes. Businesses and individuals alike find themselves caught in a web of legal jargon and mysterious penalties, often discovering they owe thousands, if not millions, with little to no explanation.

“SARS once demanded R250,000 from me because I missed an obscure deadline by three hours,” lamented one Cape Town restaurant owner. “I tried explaining that I don’t even make that much in a year, but they just laughed. Or at least, I think they laughed—it was hard to tell because they communicated exclusively through emails marked ‘URGENT: FINAL NOTICE.’"

Indeed, the power of SARS lies in its bureaucratic invincibility. Most syndicates demand protection money for "keeping you safe." SARS, on the other hand, demands it for existing.

"Have a business? Pay up. Work a job? Pay up. Own property? Pay up. Thinking of starting a side hustle? We'll find out. One day you’ll cough, and SARS will declare it taxable income,” said Johannesburg tax consultant, Mbali Dube, barely stifling her own laughter. “The secret to SARS’s success is that you never know what you’re being taxed for. They’re the true mafia—organized, untouchable, and incredibly efficient.”

South Africans have grown used to the more traditional extortion syndicates, like those demanding "protection fees" from construction companies. But where those gangs require physical intimidation, SARS has perfected the art of psychological warfare. Its letters, laden with dire warnings of imprisonment and confiscation, are enough to bring even the boldest entrepreneur to their knees.

“What makes SARS especially dangerous is that you can’t run or hide,” added Dube. “It’s not like they’re some criminal gang you can pay off and hope they leave you alone. If you owe them money, they’ll find you, wherever you are, forever. Even your grave will get a final notice."

Experts have noted the chilling efficiency with which SARS collects its dues, rarely missing an opportunity to impose “late penalties” or "adjustments" that seem as arbitrary as they are crippling. One business owner described being hit with an “Unexplained Happiness Penalty,” a mysterious surcharge apparently triggered by the audacity of turning a profit.

Meanwhile, South Africa’s extortion mafias are reportedly scrambling to figure out how to compete with SARS. “We’ve tried everything—threats, violence, even bribing officials—but we just can’t keep up,” confessed one local gangster. “SARS doesn’t need to threaten anyone. They just send a letter, and people pay. I’m starting to think we should switch careers and become tax collectors.”

As the country braces itself for the next wave of tax letters, one thing is clear: whether you’re a struggling small business or a wealthy investor, SARS will find you. And when they do, you’ll pay up—not because they’ve got muscle, but because they’ve got Excel spreadsheets.

At least with the mafia, you knew what you were paying for.