A new trend of social media bans for children is sweeping the world, with the UK the latest country to announce such measures. Usually, these are targeted at children under 16 years old, but sometimes they apply to children under 14. The justifications being used have some merit, but as has been persuasively argued, such bans have the effect of undermining parental authority and the sovereignty of the home. The other aspect of these bans is that, to ban children from social media, you inevitably have to verify every user’s identity. This has the potential to undermine the flowering of free expression that followed social media’s breaking of the monopoly over public discourse once held by centralised media sources.

Those of us who grew up in 1990s South Africa were the last generation in this country to experience the world before and after the internet and social media revolution. We saw how centralised platforms such as TV networks, radio stations, newspapers, record labels, and movie studios went from dominating public discourse to many of them now being on the brink of going out of business.

When this happened, an important change in how we are governed started to take hold. Governments could no longer create the appearance of consensus by seeking agreement among the people who controlled the various sources of information. This is how humans have been governed for most of history, and it is breaking down. To see this, look at how rapid political change has become.

In France, the UK, America, South Africa, Botswana, Argentina, and elsewhere, established political parties and politicians have suffered embarrassing losses. In the UK, Nigel Farage’s Reform UK is now the largest party. In France, Emmanuel Macron and Marine Le Pen have been the top two presidential contenders for several election cycles, despite neither representing the traditional governing parties. In Botswana, the governing party’s dominance ended after 58 years. Similarly, in South Africa, the once-mighty ANC now relies on parties that former President Mandela once referred to as “Mickey Mouse parties” to stay in power.

And this is not the end of it. This inability to manufacture consensus affects other issues as well. The COVID lockdowns were ended, at least in part, by this failure. Governments mandated lockdowns, but people could talk to each other, reason through the advice being given by so-called experts, and decide for themselves whether it made sense. They could also see the experts who were being ignored in order to create the impression of uniform opinion among specialists.

A similar phenomenon can be observed with climate change. People can freely debate the far-reaching policy changes being suggested by governments to allegedly avoid climate disaster. They can question whether it really makes sense to mothball perfectly functional coal power stations in an energy-scarce country, on an even more energy-scarce continent, for the sake of reducing CO₂ emissions. They can review for themselves the predictions made by figures such as Al Gore and see how those predictions stack up against reality.

Similarly, when it comes to manufacturing consent for war, it is no longer possible for governments, through their regulatory power over the media, to lionise “our” side and demonise the other side to the same extent. People can see and hear Palestinians in Gaza speaking for themselves. They can compare statements from the IRGC with those coming from the Pentagon and decide for themselves what makes sense and what does not.

This is very scary to those in power. I have been thinking for a while about how they would deal with these challenges because ruling elites have always needed this ability, if for no other reason than to sell unpopular wars to the populace. I believe that a CBDC (Central Bank Digital Currency), combined with mandatory identity verification for using social media, is part of the answer. No doubt there are other measures being planned as well.

Of course, to introduce these inherently unpopular measures, you have to sell them by cloaking them in causes people care about. Nothing is as powerful in this regard as protecting children. You do not come out and say that you want everyone to register in order to use social media. Instead, you only talk about social media bans for children. Of course, there is no way to enforce such a ban unless you require identification from everyone using social media.

If you think this is just me being paranoid, consider how sudden and widespread the calls for such bans have been. It reminds me of how countries around the world suddenly decided that lockdowns were the way to prevent the spread of a relatively minor virus in 2019 and 2020. At the same time, central banks around the world began talking about Central Bank Digital Currencies.

These are some of the countries that have implemented or are in the process of implementing such bans: Australia, Indonesia, Malaysia, Brazil, the UK, Canada, France, Denmark, Spain, Greece, and Austria. You can expect more to follow once it is seen that there is minimal resistance. In America, TikTok was forced to sell its US operations to an American consortium. This came after embarrassing moments such as TikTok users rediscovering Osama bin Laden’s “Letter to America” and deciding that it made sense, as well as TikTok users expressing support for Palestine over Israel.

In South Africa, there are calls by the Chairperson of Parliament’s Portfolio Committee on Communications, Mrs Khusela Sangoni-Diko, to regulate podcasts. Undoubtedly, once social media bans take effect in Western countries, these will be used, as so often happens, as justification for doing the same here. At the same time, there are increasing attempts to broaden the scope of hate speech beyond what is currently limited by the Constitution. Once everyone has to identify themselves, those deemed to have violated this broader definition of hate speech will almost certainly face legal consequences.

Of course, parts of the media are doing their part by releasing exposés on topics such as the manosphere, Facebook, and Cambridge Analytica. Traditional media has a clear interest in ensuring that social media platforms have less freedom than they do now. This would make it easier to apply to those platforms the same constraints that legacy, centralised media already faces. These are regulations that legacy media is already structured to navigate. It is nothing more than the usual story of established players pushing for regulation against smaller competitors. The competitors for advertising spending may be the social media platforms themselves, but the competitors for content creation are the users of those platforms.

Finally, we must think seriously about what steps governments would need to take to push the modern world into a destructive global conflict, possibly a conflict between America and China arising from what is often called Thucydides’ Trap. Controlling the money supply to enable unlimited spending without immediately triggering price inflation, at the cost of impoverishing everyone else, would be one such step. Wars cost unbelievable quantities of money, and modern welfare states mean that levels of spending once associated only with wartime have become routine. Controlling information would be the other critical step. Social media currently makes this difficult, if not impossible. Therefore, in the name of protecting children, there is every incentive to destroy anonymity on social media.

Mpiyakhe Dhlamini is a libertarian, writer, programmer and an Associate of the Free Market Foundation.

Written By: Mukundi Budeli

When Statistics South Africa announced that the economy had grown by 1.1% in 2025, the figure was received in some quarters as vindication; the strongest annual growth since 2022, and proof that the reforms were working. What arrived three months later told a different story: 345,000 jobs lost in the first quarter of 2026, and an unemployment rate climbing back toward 33%. While the economy grew, people largely did not benefit. These two facts are not a contradiction, they are a diagnosis.

Not all growth is equal. An economy can expand on the back of financial services, real estate transactions, and consumer spending, while the sectors that actually put people to work, manufacturing, construction, logistics, contract quietly in the background. That is precisely what has been happening in South Africa. Construction has now posted nine consecutive years of decline. Manufacturing recorded its second straight year of negative growth in 2025. These are the industries that absorb workers without degrees, that give a school-leaver, or a retrenched miner in a foothold in the formal economy. Their erosion is not a statistical footnote - it is the lived experience of millions of people for whom the GDP announcement means nothing.

The deeper problem is investment, or rather the absence of it. An economy that is not investing in its own productive capacity is not building a future; it is consuming the present. Capital formation in South Africa sits at roughly half the level economists consider necessary for genuine structural transformation. Businesses are not building, not expanding, not taking on risk. That is not a failure of ambition; it is a rational response to an environment in which the cost of doing business is high, the regulatory burden is heavy, and the infrastructure required to operate reliably is often unavailable.

There is a statistic worth sitting with; the population is growing faster than the economy. The average South African is getting poorer, not in the abstract language of economics, but in the practical sense that each year there is slightly less to go around per person than the year before. A decade of this has left real GDP per capita below where it stood in 2015.

The government’s response to this has been to point to the reform programme, and there are genuine reforms underway. The hardest work, the reforms that would most directly reduce the cost of doing business and unlock private investment, remains largely undone. Progress on the easy parts of a reform agenda is not the same as progress.

The path from a 1.1% GDP number to an economy that meaningfully reduces poverty is not complicated to describe, even if it is difficult to deliver. It runs through lower barriers to entry for new and small businesses, a labour framework that does not make the act of hiring someone a legal and financial liability, infrastructure that functions reliably enough for a manufacturer to plan a production schedule with confidence, and a tax base that broadens by growing the economy rather than squeezing the enterprises already in it.

None of this requires the state to do more; it requires the state to do less, more competently, and in the right places. The private sector will invest when the environment makes investment rational. It will hire when hiring does not feel like a trap. It will grow when growth is rewarded rather than taxed into marginal viability. South Africa has the productive potential, the natural resources, the financial infrastructure, and the human capital to grow at rates that would actually be felt. What stands between the country and that outcome is not a lack of ideas; it is a sustained failure to create the conditions under which those ideas can be acted upon.

A number on a GDP release is not an economy. An economy is the sum of millions of decisions made by individuals and businesses about whether to invest, to hire, to expand, to take a risk. Right now, too many of those decisions are resolving in the same direction. Until that changes, the scoreboard and the street will continue to tell entirely different stories.

Mukundi Budeli is a law graduate from the University of Witwatersrand and an Associate of the Free Market Foundation.

Democracy has come under repeated attack in the past decade, as the excesses of many democratic countries have come to destroy what many perceived to be the democratic dream.

But it is not merely the corrupt, bloated, bureaucratic, vote-buying parody of democracy that is facing an assault. That deserves criticism. No, what has become fashionable is something deeper and more dangerous: the idea that democracy itself is the problem.

A growing number of people, disgusted by corruption, mediocrity, populism, and the endless disappointments of modern politics, have begun to flirt with alternatives. Some dream of a benevolent dictator. Others romanticise monarchy. Others simply want “strong leadership”, a man on horseback who can sweep aside the petty squabbles of parliament and impose order.

This frustration is understandable; it is also foolish.

Too often, we rely on the idea that we need great men and women to lead us into prosperity. We wait for them to rise so we can vote them into power. And often, we are left disappointed.

Great leaders can make great changes, for good and bad. But great leaders are also rare. Relying on a person who can only rise up once in a generation is not a sustainable way to bring prosperity or stability to a country.

The bedrock of any society is not who is in charge; it is how they are chosen, how their power is used, and how that power is structured.

This is where many critics of democracy go wrong. They judge democracy by whether it produces their preferred leader, their preferred ideology, or their preferred policy outcomes. When democracy produces corruption, socialism, racial nationalism, incompetence, populism, or cowardice, they conclude that democracy has failed.

But democracy is not magic. It is not a prosperity machine. It is not a guarantee of liberty. It is not a substitute for a sound constitution, private property, free markets, limited government, or the rule of law.

Democracy serves a more basic, but vital, purpose: it provides a peaceful and stable means of appointing those in power. That may sound modest; it is not.

The way a government or ruler is chosen is often called a political system. This includes democracy, monarchy, dictatorship, theocracy, oligarchy, and more. The essential nature of these systems is that they determine who rules and how a new ruler is appointed.

A common misconception is that political systems are meant to produce certain ideological results. Many assume that democracy will always produce prosperity, while a fringe push towards monarchism assumes that a good king will restore order and dignity. When democracy fails to deliver the promised prosperity and freedom, people damn the system and look for something else.

This is how we fall into the traps of populism, dictatorship, and the endless cycle of changing political systems without the results truly improving.

Political systems do not exist to produce certain results. Democracy will not necessarily make a country richer or freer. There are ways in which democracy can be integrated into a society to encourage wealth creation and liberty, but the same system can also be used by voters to choose poverty, dependence, and decline.

South Africa is proof of that. But that does not mean democracy has failed in its primary function.

As denizens of a world dominated by generally sophisticated modern democracies, we are quite privileged. We can complain about the excesses and vices of democracy because many of us have not been faced with the alternative.

In countries without democracy, handovers of power are fraught with danger. In a democracy, power is transferred through a vote. In societies that have bought into this system, losers accept their losses. Perhaps with grumbling. Perhaps with court challenges. Perhaps with endless whining on television. But not usually with the alternative violence so prevalent in non-democratic societies. This is not a small achievement.

In monarchic systems, the deaths of monarchs often ignited violent insurrections, coups, and plays for the throne. Look at the Wars of the Roses in England: three decades of civil war because there was no sufficiently peaceful way to settle the question of succession.

Modern supporters of monarchy suffer from a brutal confirmation bias. They look at the successful monarchs in history and ignore the buckets of filth. For every wise king, there were fools, tyrants, degenerates, incompetents, and children thrown onto thrones because of bloodline rather than merit.

Democracy does not produce perfect results; it is not meant to. It is meant to provide a peaceful means through which power is transferred to a successor. And it accomplishes this far better than monarchy.

Countries are full of political rivals vying for power and prestige. They will attempt to grasp at that power. In a monarchy or dictatorship, their only real option is violence, conspiracy, or palace intrigue. In a democracy, they can attempt to win the favour of the public.

Democracy turns what could be a brutal civil war into a popularity contest. And while that may seem ridiculous, shallow, and often humiliating, it beats war.

When it comes to sustainability and stability, history is also on the side of democracy. The Serene Republic of Venice experienced peaceful and uninterrupted republican government for over a millennium. It was only finally broken by foreign invasion. While Venice had essential differences from modern pluralistic democracies, it still paved the avenue to power through peaceful election rather than violent insurrection; that matters.

Democracies also give at least a semblance of decision-making power to the public. Often, the average citizen has more skin in the game than an aristocrat or ruler. It is ordinary people who suffer in wars, endure economic collapse, pay the taxes, face the crime, and live with the consequences of bad policies.

In practice, this is imperfect. Voters can be ignorant. Voters can be manipulated. Voters can be bribed with their own money. Voters can be swept up by race nationalism, envy, fear, and economic illiteracy.

But giving the public some say in political power is still far more principled than placing all authority in a hereditary monarch who may trigger a civil war if he dies without a clear heir, or in a dictator who can only be removed by death, coup, or revolution.

So, what does this have to do with South Africa?

South Africa has had a racially equal democracy since 1994. And while it may be controversial to admit, it had a democracy before that, from its inception in 1910. Democracy does not necessarily equate to universal franchise. Even in ideal democracies, franchise is not truly universal. Not everyone is allowed to vote. People have to be a certain age. Some are denied the vote based on mental incapacity. Some nations deny convicts the right to vote.

If we strictly defined democracy as universal franchise, then no country in the world would constitute a democracy.

South Africa had and has a democracy because enough citizens were able to vote for the ruling government. That is all that is required for a political system to be meaningfully democratic. The great moral stain of pre-1994 South Africa was not that it was not a democracy at all, but that its democracy was racially restricted and unjust.

Since 1994, our democracy has failed to give us a prosperous and free society. But it did achieve one thing: peace.

We have not faced a civil war in South Africa, despite coming excruciatingly close many times. That is not nothing.

Democracy is not perfect. South Africa proves that. We are faced with apocalyptic levels of corruption, rolling blackouts, violent crime, unemployment, cadre deployment, race law, and the breakdown of infrastructure and order across the country.

But monarchy would not have saved us. Dictatorship would not have saved us. A “strong man” would not have saved us. Imagine a ruler with the same nature as the ANC, but without any possibility of voting them out of power.

Imagine cadre deployment without elections. Imagine the National Democratic Revolution without opposition parties. Imagine expropriation without Parliament, courts, public pressure, or electoral consequences. Imagine the worst instincts of the ruling party, but freed from even the limited restraints of democratic accountability.

That is what the anti-democrats are playing with. Democracy is not the problem. Waiting for a great leader is a foolish waste of time; romanticising authoritarianism is worse.

The fundamental issue in South Africa is not that we vote. It is that the state has too much power over too much of our lives. It is that our Constitution has not sufficiently restrained that power. It is that voters have been trained to treat politics as a means of plunder. It is that race law, welfare dependence, cadre deployment, central planning, and socialist delusions have corroded our institutions.

Democracy can choose freedom; it can also choose ruin.

But the answer to bad democratic choices is not to abolish democracy. It is to limit what any government, democratic or otherwise, is allowed to do.

Democracy is not enough. It must be paired with constitutionalism, property rights, federalism, free markets, civil liberties, and the rule of law. Without those, democracy becomes little more than a peaceful way to choose new managers for the same destructive machine.

But without democracy, that destructive machine becomes even harder to stop.

We should defend democracy, not because it always gives us good leaders, but because it gives us a peaceful way to remove bad ones. And in a country like South Africa, that may be the difference between reform and ruin.

Nicholas Woode-Smith is a political analyst and author. He is the Managing Editor of the Rational Standard and a senior associate of the Free Market Foundation. He writes in his personal capacity.

Join Martin van Staden, Nicholas Woode-Smith and Zakhele Mthembu as they unpack some of the most pressing issues of the week.

In this episode, we discuss the anti-immigration protests that have erupted in Belfast, drawing international attention and reigniting debates around borders, migration, integration, and national identity.

We also examine growing anti-immigration sentiment in South Africa, where concerns around illegal immigration, border security, public services, and government policy have fuelled protests and political debate for years. As these tensions continue to build, we explore what is driving public frustration and what the implications may be for both countries.

Written By: Robert Khumalo

South Africans have every right to protest Israel. They have every right to criticise Zionism, call for boycotts, condemn Israeli policy, and express their anger about the war in the Middle East.

That is not in dispute.

What is in dispute is whether the language of protest can be used to excuse harassment, intimidation, obstruction, reputational warfare, and the public smearing of Jewish South Africans who refuse to apologise for their identity or beliefs.

The matter involving Cape Union Mart and Philip Krawitz, now before the Western Cape High Court, should not be treated as a mere extension of the Israel-Palestine culture war. It is a test of something much closer to home. It is a test of whether South Africa still believes in lawful protest, equal citizenship, property rights, free association, and the rule of law.

In a constitutional democracy, no cause is placed above the law simply because its supporters believe themselves to be righteous.

Philip Krawitz is a prominent South African businessman who has openly expressed support for the State of Israel. Activists are entitled to disagree with him. They are entitled to criticise him. They are entitled to refuse to support his business. They are entitled to persuade others to do the same.

But they are not entitled to intimidate staff, harass customers, obstruct access to stores, or spread serious allegations that have not been proven.

That distinction matters.

Too often in South Africa, protest is treated as a magic word that sanitises all conduct. Once a group calls itself activists, almost anything becomes permissible in the eyes of sympathetic commentators. Blocking entrances becomes “direct action.” Targeting a business becomes “accountability.” Smearing individuals becomes “raising awareness.” Intimidation becomes “resistance.”

This is not constitutionalism. It is mob politics with better branding.

The right to protest is real. It is precious. It must be defended, especially in a country with South Africa’s history. But the right to protest does not abolish the rights of everyone else.

Freedom of expression does not cancel dignity.

Political activism does not cancel property rights.

A boycott campaign does not cancel the right of ordinary employees to go to work without being threatened or abused.

And opposition to Israel does not cancel the right of Jewish South Africans, including Zionist Jews, to participate openly in public life.

This is the line that must be defended.

There is, of course, nothing inherently antisemitic about criticising the government of Israel. Israelis do it every day. Jews around the world argue fiercely about Israeli policy, Zionism, the war, the settlements, the conduct of the Israeli state, and the future of the region.

But it is dishonest to pretend that anti-Israel activism never crosses into antisemitism.

When Jewish-owned or Jewish-associated businesses are singled out for special hostility, when Zionism is treated as a civic disqualification, when Jewish South Africans are expected to answer collectively for a foreign war, and when swastika imagery appears outside stores connected to Jews, the line has been crossed.

At that point, the issue is no longer criticism of a state. It is collective blame.

It is the transformation of Jewish identity into a political offence.

This is especially dangerous in South Africa, where public debate is already too easily captured by racialised scapegoating, conspiratorial thinking, and performative outrage. The more activists frame local Jews as stand-ins for Israel, the more they import an overseas conflict into South African civic life in a way that makes Jewish citizens less safe, less equal, and less free.

That should concern every liberal, regardless of their view on Israel.

The proper liberal position is not that Israel must be beyond criticism. It is that Jews must not be treated as fair game.

The same principle should apply to all communities. A Muslim South African should not be harassed because of the actions of a foreign government or militant group. A Russian South African should not be treated as personally responsible for Vladimir Putin. A Chinese South African should not be punished for the Chinese Communist Party. An American business owner should not be targeted as a proxy for Washington.

So why should a Jewish businessman be treated as a legitimate target because he supports Israel?

The answer, too often, is that Israel has become the exception to the rules that activists claim to uphold. When Israel is involved, the standards change. Conduct that would be condemned in any other context is excused as solidarity. Hostility that would be recognised as bigotry if directed at another minority is rebranded as anti-Zionism.

That double standard must be rejected.

There is also a practical South African dimension that should not be ignored. Campaigns designed to damage South African businesses do not liberate Palestinians. They threaten South African livelihoods.

Cape Union Mart employs South Africans. It pays rent to South African landlords. It supports suppliers, logistics networks, retail workers, shopping centres, and ordinary families. A campaign to destroy or damage such a business may make activists feel powerful, but the people most likely to suffer are not ministers in Jerusalem. They are workers in South Africa.

This is one of the great moral vanities of activist politics. It assumes that destruction is the same as justice.

It is not.

If a protest movement harms shop workers, scares customers, damages local commerce, and inflames communal hostility, while doing nothing meaningful to advance peace or improve the lives of Palestinians, then it is not a serious human rights campaign. It is theatre at the expense of ordinary people.

The court does not need to decide the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Nor should it. South African courts are not foreign-policy seminars. The question before the court is far more basic: whether protest activity may cross into intimidation, obstruction, defamation, and harassment without consequence.

The answer should be no.

A free society can tolerate fierce disagreement. It can tolerate boycotts. It can tolerate offensive signs, angry chants, and unpopular views. What it cannot tolerate is the idea that one group’s political passion gives it a veto over the rights of others.

The Constitution does not create a hierarchy where the loudest activists receive rights and their targets receive obligations.

It protects protest, but it also protects dignity, trade, movement, property, reputation, and equal citizenship.

That balance is not a technicality. It is the whole point of constitutional democracy.

The Cape Union Mart case is therefore about more than one company, one businessman, or one protest campaign. It is about whether South Africa can still distinguish between lawful dissent and political intimidation.

A healthy society must protect the right to protest.

But it must also protect the right of Jews, including Zionist Jews, to live, work, trade, speak, and participate in public life without being treated as enemies of the people.

There is no contradiction between those principles. There is only the rule of law.

And if the courts can reaffirm that protest is not a licence to harass Jews, they will have done more than settle a dispute. They will have defended the basic terms of a free society.

Robert Khumalo is a political analyst and classical liberal commentator.

South Africa does not suffer from a shortage of entrepreneurial or creative energy; rather, it suffers from a lack of the freedom necessary to harness the problem-solving abilities of its people.

Across the country, from spaza shops in townships to informal car mechanics working under corrugated iron roofs, millions of South Africans engage in entrepreneurial activity daily. They identify needs, adapt to changing conditions, innovate under pressure, and create value for South African consumers. Yet, despite this enormous entrepreneurial energy, South Africa continues to struggle with mass unemployment and stagnant economic growth.

The issue is not that South Africans lack enterprise; the problem is that our policy environment actively suppresses it. For decades, policymakers within the state have attempted to engineer prosperity from the top down. The prevailing assumption has been that development arises primarily through state planning, regulation, and bureaucratic coordination.

From the National Development Plan, which serves as the overarching framework for coordinating the lives of millions, to the various other ‘plans’ or ‘policies’ designed to drive prosperity – ranging from the Reconstruction and Development Plan (RDP), to the most recent Medium Term Development Plan of the Government of National Unity.

Reality, however, tells a different story. The economies that have achieved sustained growth and rising living standards are those that have unleashed entrepreneurial discovery rather than constrained it. By their very nature as instruments designed to control behaviour (law), policy, legislation, and regulation inherently inhibit the freedom necessary to foster entrepreneurial discovery.

This is where the insights of the Austrian School of Economics offer a solution for South Africa. Economists such as Israel Kirzner and Ludwig von Mises understood entrepreneurship not merely as the creation of businesses, but as a process of discovery.

Entrepreneurs are those among us who notice opportunities that the rest of us overlook. They respond to local knowledge, changing consumer demands, and gaps in the market that no central planner could fully predict. This constant reaction is the discovery of what consumers find most valuable; this is what is meant by saying that entrepreneurship is a process of discovery.

In a country as unequal and complex as South Africa, this matters enormously. A central planner cannot account for the dynamics of the diverse South African population and subsequently devise a uniform plan for all of us. This renders uniform overarching plans for the economic reality of South Africans an exercise in futility.

Economic knowledge is dispersed. An entrepreneur operating in Soweto or Khayelitsha understands the needs of their community better than a government policymaker in Pretoria or Cape Town. Similarly, a street vendor in Johannesburg’s CBD comprehends local consumer behaviour more accurately than an economic planning commission composed of the brightest minds from the country’s top universities ever could.

Markets enable the dispersed knowledge of the value scales held by various individuals in society to coordinate voluntarily through prices, competition, and profit signals. Entrepreneurship is therefore not peripheral to development; it is the development process itself.

By satisfying the needs and wants of individuals, providing what they consider valuable at a profitable rate, their standards of living improve because they receive what they desire. Development occurs when as many people as possible in a society are entrepreneurial in the sense of constantly adjusting their actions according to the ever-shifting value scales of those around them.

This is particularly evident within South Africa’s informal economy. Too often the informal sector is discussed as if it represents economic failure or, as the name ‘informal’ implies, economic incompleteness. In reality, it frequently exemplifies economic resilience and serves as an ideal foundation for understanding how wealth and prosperity are created at a fundamental level.

Entrepreneurs in the informal sector continually adapt products, distribution methods, and services to suit the realities of their communities; they innovate out of necessity.

A township barber who invests in an inverter or rechargeable hair clippers due to Eskom’s unreliability is demonstrating innovation. A spaza shop owner who adjusts their inventory, stocking one item more than another based on local purchasing patterns, is also innovating. These forms of innovation may not always resemble Silicon Valley startups, but they reflect genuine entrepreneurial alertness and creativity.

The problem is that South Africa’s regulatory framework often treats entrepreneurs as entities to be controlled rather than as the true creators of growth. The South African state appears to believe it can simply push certain buttons to stimulate entrepreneurship, rather than recognising that it needs to step aside.

Labour laws make hiring costly and risky, particularly for small firms. Licensing requirements, municipal inefficiencies, and compliance costs disproportionately burden emerging businesses that lack legal departments or political connections. High artificial or state-created barriers to entry protect established firms while excluding younger and less affluent entrepreneurs from formal participation in the economy.

The consequences of such an approach are devastating for the economy and society. South Africa has one of the highest youth unemployment rates in the world. Millions of capable young people remain excluded from productive economic participation, not because they lack ability, but because the institutional environment discourages experimentation and enterprise.

The top-down approach has been tried and is failing. Instead, we need to imagine what South Africans could achieve if economic freedom, as measured by indices such as the Fraser Institute’s Economic Freedom of the World Index, were to expand rather than contract.

We need to envision a South Africa where small businesses can hire workers without fear of crippling regulatory costs. Imagine a South Africa where obtaining trading permits is straightforward and efficient; where the education system fosters entrepreneurial thinking rather than dependence on state employment; and where the government regards profit not as exploitation, but as evidence that value has been created for others.

That is the South Africa we need to envision and strive towards if we want genuine development and prosperity for the millions in our society who desperately need it: a free and entrepreneurial South Africa.

We need to consider entrepreneurship not merely as a means of wealth creation for individuals, but as a form of social coordination. Entrepreneurship is how societies dynamically solve problems. Entrepreneurs marshal resources to address unmet needs, create employment, introduce innovation, and improve living standards through competition.

No ministry can replicate this process artificially; it is simply impossible. Instead, our future as South Africans lies along a path paved by the freedom to enterprise and trade. Without that, we can only continue walking down our road to serfdom.

Zakhele Mthembu, BA Law LLB (Wits), is a Policy Officer at the Free Market Foundation.

Written By: Richard Tate

When the ANC came to power in South Africa in 1994 an expressed priority was “land reform”. This was to address the fact that Black farmers had been “excluded” from the agricultural economy for most of the 20th century in South Africa. It has now become clear that the new approach to redistribute land has been mostly ineffective over the past 30 years.

In South Africa, some 5.3 million hectares have been transferred through redistribution, a further 3.9 million hectares through restitution, and 30,530 hectares through labour tenant claims. This reported as 11% of commercial farming land as it stated in 1994.

Private land acquisition by black individuals is an element missing in land reform within South Africa. In the sugar industry there are some 22,000 small scale farmers, and a further one million livelihoods that are dependent on sugar cane growing. The failures set out above, tell the story that the state will always be a poor player in redistribution of land.

How much influence does the small-scale farmer have in the agricultural world?

– There are 570 million small scale farmers worldwide.

– Brazil – 3 to 4 million farmers.

– China – 120 to 150 million farmers.

– Nigeria – 20 to 30 million farmers.

– Kenya – 10 to 15 million farmers.

– Africa in total – 150 million farmers.

When the writer first visited Tanzania, his first impression was: “Where are all the big green and red tractors?” “Where are all the large sheds and tobacco barns?” “Where are all the large tracts of land with crops waiting for harvest?” There were none.

Instead, he witnessed small sheds built of wood poles and a thatch roof, a scotch cart with oxen ready to transport the crop to a “buying station”, also of wood and thatch.

One of the great entrepreneurs that he encountered was a Kenyan businessman that set up a growing scheme on the Tanzania-Burundi border. Seed was given to farmers, small sheds erected made of local poles and thatch roof, barns erected using sun dried bricks, crop transported by oxen, tobacco barns warmed and cured using local timber. The only item he purchased for his farmers was a thermometer.

He produced 3.0 million kilos of tobacco at 40% less than current world prices! His growers loved him!

If the South African government is serious about land reform for its peoples, the state should muster an investigating agricultural team to visit Zimbabwe to understand the risks, and successes of small-scale farmers.

But before we go north, the reader must understand the amazing skills of commercial farmers in South Africa, feeding the nation year in and year out together with exports. The transfer of these skills is critical to the success of new farmers; without these skills the scheme will fail. There are organisations like PALS Partners in Agri Solutions and Commercial farmers helping their less able neighbours, but the fact of the matter is that the government must put their shoulder to the wheel.

The Zimbabwe government acquired approximately 4,000 farms from 3,500 farmers in 2000 to 2005 with no payment. On these farms the government settled some 400,000 farmers, plus wives and children, say 1.6 million in total.

The Zimbabwe government has made agriculture a priority and by example tobacco companies have reached out to growers, providing:

– Input supply and logistics, to supply all necessary inputs, crop inputs and barn curing inputs.

– Agronomy and extension services.

– Field officers guidance on correct use of inputs.

– Buying commitment and pricing transparency and payment to the grower within 48 hours, together with a statement of account.

All the above is supported financially by the tobacco companies since the banks would make no loans without title deeds. In 2000 the tobacco crop was 210 million kilograms; today this is approaching 400 million kilograms!

The down-side of this amazing growth is the local timber is being decimated to cure the tobacco in the barns. There is a scheme in place for reforestation; I am not sure how effective it is currently.

This demise of local timber might well be the Achilles Heel to the tobacco industry going forward, despite the country having huge coal reserves, but expensive to transport to the farmers door-step.

Many of these farmers have grown to be commercial farmers with green / red tractors, diversifying into other crops, from maize, wheat with full irrigation, avocados and macadamia trees.

In Brazil, the writer witnessed some 200 agronomists driving VW beetle vehicles providing huge support to their growers.

In China, the writer visited farmers that had a 1,000 year-old water canal, running water next to his home, to fill the fishpond and irrigate a few crops, providing just 30 tobacco plants with 16 leaves, the total crop with his fellow farmers, the largest in the world!

So, for its peoples South Africa “land reform” examples are there for the taking. What is holding up the system?

The “buy in” is also required from agricultural unions. Without the “skills” transfer to the new farmer any scheme will fail. Also required is to provide a sound audit of South Africa’s land, a training school and enthusiastic young men and women to farm for the future.

Just imagine a few million young South Africans growing crops for themselves and their families, and in time contributing to exports across the world. It would bring enormous peace to the “political winds” that seem to dominate the headlines.

Richard Tate, during his tenure as President of the Zimbabwe Tobacco Association, settled 6000 small scale farmers, still farming today. Later, as President of the World Tobacco Association, he represented 35 million small scale farmers. His two farms were acquired by the Zimbabwe government. He is an Associate of the Free Market Foundation.

Written By: Arthur Vamva

The true measure of a free society is not how comfortably we agree with one another. It is how we handle our deepest disagreements. When our universities switch from teaching how to think to dictating what to think, the fabric of our constitutional democracy begins to unravel.

My name is Arthur Vamva. In December 2022, following a contentious campaign for the Student Representative Council (SRC) Presidency, Rhodes University handed me an unprecedented expulsion. My academic career was halted instantly. My student record was tarnished.

Following my surging momentum as an independent presidential candidate, my political opponents targeted my private, historical, and personal social media profiles. “Social justice” groups flagged several personal Facebook updates, forcing a campus-wide controversy and demanded my disqualification from the presidential bid. Among the contested statements, I authored posts declaring that “homosexuality is evil – it is an abomination before God”.

The university’s management unequivocally condemned the remarks as homophobic hate speech that brought the institution into disrepute. Vice-Chancellor Professor Sizwe Mabizela maintained that the posts constituted hate speech against the LGBTQIA++ community, asserting that a candidate for student leadership could not justify exclusionary and harmful rhetoric through religious doctrine.

The Legal Challenge and Free Speech Arguments

I escalated the matter to the High Court in August 2023, seeking to overturn the disciplinary board’s decision. Represented by pro-bono legal counsel, my team argues that the expulsion constitutes an unlawful restriction on freedom of speech and religious liberty.

My defence maintains that I did not engage in targeted hate speech or incited violence. Instead, they argue I was expressing my deeply held Christian faith and traditional biblical interpretations regarding sin. My advocates contend that the university’s ruling enforces an overly narrow view of speech, effectively penalising Christians for propagating orthodox world-views that clash with prevailing campus ideologies.

This case is not about validation. It is not about seeking consensus on my personal views. This issue centres on whether a university can utilise its internal disciplinary mechanisms to bypass constitutional protections. No institution should end a student’s academic future over a non-violent expression of opinion.

Our review application brought several procedural issues to light:

• Scope Expansion: The university extended its investigation past the initial charges to construct its case.

• Jurisdictional Boundaries: Charges were brought against remarks made within private communications.

• Institutional Imbalance: High-ranking university executives such as the University Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Sizwe Mabizela, personally intervened in the disciplinary process.

• Harsh Penalties: A four-year ban prevents a student from transferring to complete their education elsewhere.

If an institution can act as investigator, prosecutor, and judge to penalize unpopular ideas, a dangerous precedent is established. This mechanism can eventually be used against anyone.

Crowdfunding for an Escalated Disciplinary Dispute

The upcoming High Court judgment represents just one step in a prolonged legal process. Regardless of the ruling, the losing party will likely seek an appeal. This extends an already grueling multi-year legal battle.

I have therefore initiated a crowdfunding campaign via the international platform GiveSendGo. The campaign aims to accumulate necessary funding to sustain what could become a prolonged legal process.

The financial reserves are being raised to prepare for a multi-stage strategy:

• The Appeals Process: Funding subsequent rounds of appeals should the initial High Court review require escalation to higher judicial authorities.

• Lawsuit Damages: Laying the groundwork for a civil lawsuit seeking monetary damages against Rhodes University for the alleged destruction of my academic future and unlawful career disruption.

As universities increasingly balance the mandate to create inclusive spaces with the constitutional right to individual expression, the final ruling in my case could set a significant precedent for religious freedom and speech limits on South African campuses.

Why Your Support Matters

I am asking for your financial assistance not to endorse my personal beliefs, but to safeguard the principles of due process.

When institutional actions go unchallenged, public entities gain unchecked power to quiet dissenters. Contributing to this legal fund helps ensure that South African universities remain places of open debate. We must be governed by the Rule of Law rather than institutional overreach.

Please consider supporting my campaign on GiveSendGo to Donate and protect fairness, accountability, and proper legal procedures for all South African students.

Arthur Vamva campaigns for free speech and the right to express ones beliefs, regardless of societal backlash.

It is no accident that crime has flourished in South Africa. The scourge of violence and criminality affecting South Africans lives and livelihoods has been the direct result of the government and the ANC’s misguided policies and corruption.

In 1987, there were 26,000 reported armed robberies. By 2003, there were 126,000. As of 2024, there were 150,000-armed robberies. Murders have skyrocketed year on year. Sexual violence has surged, despite drastic under reporting. And despite the scourge of career criminals, gangsterism and murderers – the biggest source of murders in South Africa is still impulsive acts of violence stemming from arguments.

A functional police force that could deter criminality through investigation and convictions could have stymied the growth of criminality. People are much less likely to act out if there is a threat of arrest. Organised crime would keep to the shadows and not be thriving in the halls of power if there were detectives threatening their operations.

But the ANC intentionally gutted law enforcement as soon as they rose to power in 1994. Experienced police officers were denied promotions and pressured out to make way for undertrained and inexperienced political appointees.

Specialised investigative squads, adept at fighting different types of crime, were gutted as the ANC criticised them as being “too skewed towards white communities”.

Detectives, once able to act independently and dynamically, were put under the power of politically appointed station commanders who were inept and often corrupt.

Now, we have too few detectives, with a single detective on average having to investigate over 100 crimes simultaneously. Some sources report detectives carrying upwards of 500 dockets at a time.

The ANC fundamentally believed that their policies of socio-economic redress would solve the bulk of South Africa’s crime, and that visible police patrols would be the only thing needed to dissuade the remaining criminals. This policy didn’t work. You can’t patrol every square metre of a city 24/7. And even when police do catch criminals, they are so overworked and undertrained, that they often botch the arrest, and are unable to take the case to court to be tried.

What has resulted in rampant vigilantism and the breakdown of the social order in South Africa; mob justice reigns, except where criminal warlords wield even more coercive power.

How do we fix it?

The solution to our flagging law enforcement is to reverse much of what the ANC did in the 90s. We need to decentralise the police force again. Specialised groups that focus on different types of crimes would go a long way to helping solve the crime crisis.

But more than that, we need to decentralise the police entirely. There should not be a national South African Police Service (SAPS). Every province should have its own police department that coordinates nationally but is ultimately accountable to the local government and local communities. This would ensure that corruption doesn’t spread throughout the entire national hierarchy, while also ensuring that local government can hold police accountable.

For national crimes, we should have a national agency like the FBI in the USA that works with provincial police. Despite what we may see in Hollywood, the USA is far safer than South Africa and we should learn from their decentralised model. Even tiny countries like Belgium have decentralised police forces.

On top of decentralising the police, there needs to be a larger onus on coordinating with local communities and private security. The police should not be the primary patroller of the streets. They should be specialised into investigations and bringing convictions.

Community watch, neighbourhood groups, and private security should fulfil the role of patrolling streets to dissuade petty crime and breaking up arguments before they become violent. Rural commando groups should also be equipped to patrol the wider swathes of the countryside to combat farm murders and rural crime. Traditional policing is an urban phenomenon, and we would be foolish to leave our farming population vulnerable.

If we shift the focus from quantity of police to fulfil foolish visible policing strategies, and rather focus on quality, we can train up cohorts of police capable of fighting skilled career criminals, gangs and cartels.

The crisis of South African policing will not be solved by slogans, more visibility campaigns, or another politically connected commissioner. It will be solved by restoring the basic function of policing: investigating crimes, catching criminals, building cases, and securing convictions.

South Africa does not need a police service designed to flatter politicians; it needs police institutions designed to protect citizens.

That means reversing the catastrophic centralisation and politicisation of the SAPS. It means restoring specialised units. It means giving provinces and communities real control over their own safety. It means rebuilding detective capacity, working with private security and community patrols, and focusing the state’s limited resources on the criminals who terrorise ordinary people.

The purpose of the police is not to provide the illusion of safety; it is to uphold the rule of law.

Without that rule of law, freedom is impossible. Businesses cannot operate. Families cannot sleep safely in their homes. Farmers cannot protect their land. Commuters cannot travel without fear. Communities cannot prosper when criminals, gangs, mobs, and corrupt officials wield more effective power than the state itself.

South Africa’s crime crisis was not inevitable. It was made worse by policy; it can be fixed by policy.

But that requires abandoning the ANC’s failed model of centralised, politicised, visible policing, and replacing it with a decentralised, specialised, accountable system built around investigation and conviction.

A free society cannot coexist with criminal impunity. If South Africa wants prosperity, dignity, and order, it must first make criminals afraid of the law again.

Nicholas Woode-Smith is a political analyst and author. He is the Managing Editor of the Rational Standard and a senior associate of the Free Market Foundation. He writes in his personal capacity.

In this episode, we unpack the DA’s latest self-inflicted blunders, the political opportunism behind Liam Jacobs’ return to the party, and the tragic case of Henry Nowak in the UK, who died after being stabbed and then arrested while seriously injured.

Why are accusations of sexual violence against Israel so readily accepted and made viral, often without substantial evidence, while documented evidence of sexual atrocities committed against Jews is ignored, minimised or treated with suspicion?

When Hamas terrorists invaded Israel on 7 October, they did not merely murder civilians. They committed atrocities designed to humiliate, dehumanise and terrorise. The evidence of sexual violence has come from witnesses, first responders, released hostages, forensic experts, video material, international investigators and painstaking documentation by civil society groups. It takes wilful ignorance to reject the fact that Hamas, Gazan civilians and other jihadist groups committed mass, brutal and systematic sexual violence against Israelis on and after 7 October.

Yet, for much of the media, the United Nations, South Africa’s political class and the activist ecosystem, none of this was enough.

Israeli victims were doubted. Their suffering was contextualised and even considered justified by the most hateful segments of the anti-Israeli lobby. Their dead bodies were put on trial. Every gap in the evidence, often caused by the fact that the victims had been murdered, was treated as an excuse for denial.

But when Israel is accused, the standards suddenly disappear.

Anonymous testimony becomes proof. Activist reports become verdicts. Rumour becomes revelation. And the most lurid allegation, no matter how contested, can be laundered through respectable newspapers and human rights language into an indictment of the Jewish state.

This is not concern for victims of sexual violence. It is selective outrage masquerading as compassion.

Nicholas Kristof’s New York Times column alleging widespread sexual abuse of Palestinians by Israel has become the latest example of this grotesque double standard. Its defenders argue that the allegations cannot be dismissed, that Palestinians have testified to mistreatment, and that abuse in detention must be investigated. On that narrow point, they are right.

But this is precisely where the double standard becomes visible. The issue is not whether credible allegations should be investigated. They should be. The issue is the leap from allegation to certainty. From individual claims to national indictment. From the possibility of abuse to the assertion that Israel is a systematic perpetrator of sexual violence. That leap has not been earned.

In South Africa, the Media Review Network has echoed this framing through Iqbal Jassat, who insists that allegations of rape against Palestinian detainees in Israeli prisons “cannot be dismissed as conspiracy”. On its own, that claim may sound reasonable. But in context, it reflects a familiar pattern. Allegations alone against Israel are treated as proof. Doubt becomes denial. Scrutiny becomes cruelty. Anyone who asks whether the evidence is credible is accused of excusing Palestinian suffering.

The same activists who demanded impossible proof from Israeli victims of 7 October now demand instant belief when Israel is the accused.

The MRN’s framing also obscures the weakness of the evidence base by pretending that all sources are equally credible. They are not. Kristof relied, in part, on Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor, a highly politicised anti-Israel organisation whose credibility has been repeatedly challenged.

NGO Monitor argues that Euro-Med’s leadership has a history of advocating for Hamas in Europe, and notes that Euro-Med had already promoted the lurid allegation that Israel used dogs to rape prisoners before Kristof elevated it into the pages of the New York Times. Euro-Med’s own report from June 2024 claimed that Israeli army dogs were used to “sexually assault prisoners and detainees” and repeated the allegation of dogs being used to rape detainees. That is not independent corroboration. It is the laundering of an activist claim through a prestigious newspaper.

No credible allegation of abuse should be ignored. If Israeli soldiers, prison guards, interrogators or officials have abused detainees, they should be investigated and punished. No civilised society should tolerate sexual abuse, torture or humiliation by agents of the state. And the Israeli government and society do not tolerate these crimes, even if committed by their own soldiers or personnel.

While Israel investigates and prosecutes its people who commit crimes, Hamas celebrated and broadcast atrocities committed against Israelis. But that is not the issue.

The issue is the leap from allegation to certainty. From individual claims to national indictment. From the possibility of abuse to the assertion that Israel is a systematic perpetrator of sexual violence. That leap has not been earned.

Kristof’s most sensational claim, involving an alleged sexual assault using a dog, is a case study in how propaganda works. It is not enough to say that a claim is horrifying. Horror is not evidence. It is not enough to say that the complainant repeated the story elsewhere. Repetition is not corroboration. It is not enough to say that similar abuses have happened in other countries or other wars. Possibility is not proof.

To add to this, canine experts have reported that there is no documented evidence of dogs being trained or used to commit sexual assaults against humans. Some veterinarians and scientists have gone further, describing the allegation as “medically and scientifically impossible”. At the very least, this should have triggered extreme caution from any responsible journalist. Instead, the claim spread widely, revealing less about Israeli abuse than about the sick minds of the anti-Israel lobby.

The more inflammatory the allegation, the more careful the verification must be. That is the standard Israeli victims were told to meet. That is the standard Palestinian allegations against Israel must also meet.

The same applies to claims about Palestinian prisoners. There have been serious allegations of abuse in Israeli detention. Some have been investigated. Some may yet lead to consequences. But even where abuse is real, a distinction must be maintained between criminal misconduct and state policy. Between a prison scandal and a national campaign of sexual violence.

If allegations of sexual abuse in detention are enough to brand a country as a systematic perpetrator of rape, then Iran, Syria, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, the United States, Britain, Australia and Canada must all be indicted under the same standard. But they are not. The standard is applied with special venom to Israel. Abuse in Israeli detention should be investigated and punished where proven. But it should not be inflated into a blood libel by people who have spent years ignoring or excusing far better-documented sexual violence by Hamas and by the dictatorships they so often romanticise.

“Investigate this” is a responsible demand. “Israel is a regime of mass rape” is a propaganda conclusion.

That conclusion has also been encouraged by claims from flotilla activists who alleged sexual abuse after detention by Israel. These claims have been denied by Israeli authorities and, at the time of reporting, could not be independently verified. They may deserve investigation. They do not deserve instant belief merely because the accused is Israel.

Yet this is precisely how the anti-Israel narrative machine operates. Every allegation against Israel is treated as a moral emergency. Every atrocity committed against Israelis is treated as complicated. This was never how 7 October was treated.

The UN’s own special representative, Pramila Patten, found reasonable grounds to believe that conflict-related sexual violence occurred during the 7 October attacks, and clear and convincing information that hostages had been subjected to sexual violence in captivity. The Civil Commission’s report, Silenced No More, has since documented patterns of sexual and gender-based violence using witness accounts, survivor testimony, expert analysis and an enormous archive of evidence.

This evidence was produced under horrific conditions. Many victims could never testify because they were murdered. Many bodies were burned, mutilated or recovered in chaotic conditions. First responders were dealing with an active massacre, not a laboratory investigation. And still, the evidence accumulated.

But for many activists, it was never enough.

They demanded forensic perfection from the dead. They demanded sworn testimony from victims who could no longer speak. They dismissed witnesses. They sneered at Israeli sources. They treated Jewish pain as propaganda until proven otherwise and then treated the proof as propaganda too.

South Africa should understand how obscene this is. We live in a country where sexual violence is endemic, where victims are doubted, where ideology and ethnic loyalty often matter more than truth. Yet too many South Africans have exported our worst instincts into foreign policy. They doubt Jewish victims while embracing every accusation against Israel with fanatical enthusiasm.

That is not solidarity with Palestinians. It is moral corruption.

None of this requires silence about Palestinian suffering. Palestinians can be victims. Israelis can commit crimes. Abuse in Israeli detention should be exposed and punished where proven. And it is.

But a just society does not believe claims based on the identity of the accused. It does not demand impossible evidence from one group of victims while accepting rumours against another as fact. It does not pretend to care about rape while using sexual violence allegations as weapons in an ideological war.

The world has not learned to believe victims. It has learned to believe accusations against Israel, regardless of evidence or common sense.

And a movement that doubts every Jewish victim while believing every allegation against the Jewish state has not discovered compassion. It has merely rediscovered an old hatred in the language of human rights.

Nicholas Woode-Smith is the Managing Editor of the Rational Standard. He writes in his personal capacity.

Is capitalism an expression of a Western value system whose cold, rugged individualism is fundamentally incompatible with the warm collectivism of African communalism?

These are some questions that come to mind when one considers a common question about why free market-oriented policies do not resonate with many black South Africans.

There are, of course, several other reasons for the continued appeal of socialism, or more broadly left-leaning policies, but one such reason is the persistent myth that capitalism is an alien and oppressive system.

The origins of the ‘capitalism is unAfrican’ narrative

This myth dates back to the scholarship of post-colonial African leaders such as the late Julius Nyerere, who in his formulation of Ujamaa (African socialism), concluded that post-colonial African states needed to revert to forms of pre-colonial African communalism that resembled elements of socialism and reject the hyper-individualistic and exploitative capitalism of Western modernity.

The narrative is that the institution of private property was basically non-existent and that pre-colonial African societies were not organised around markets that facilitated trade.

What it conveniently omits is that historically, communalism was not a uniquely African phenomenon and that other parts of the world, including Europe during the Mediaeval period, also had strong communal systems. What it further omits is that the institution of private property did exist in pre-colonial Africa, and that the socialism being ‘Africanised’ was, in fact, a product of Western modernity.

Private property, trade, and pre-colonial Africa

It is true that what can be referred to as modern capitalism developed both in theory and practice in the Western world. But it is false to argue that private property and trade, which are foundational pillars of capitalism, did not exist in indigenous forms in pre-colonial African societies.

The late Ghanaian political economist and ardent advocate of free markets, George Ayittey dedicated his life to challenging this simplified and homogenised image of pre-colonial Africa as lacking private property and trade, and presented a more nuanced view of pre-colonial African societies that did have forms of private ownership and thriving markets.

George Ayittey and “peasant capitalism”

In an article he wrote for African Liberty in June 2019 titled Indigenous African Free-Market Liberalism, he made the following comments on trade:

“Markets were ubiquitous in precolonial Africa. Two types were distinguishable: the periodic (weekly) rural markets and the large regional markets. Some of these regional markets grew into large towns such as Timbuktu, Kano, Salaga, Sofala, and Mombasa. They served as exchange points for long-distance trade. Timbuktu and Kano, for example, served the long-distance caravan trade over the Sahara and the long-distance trade from the coastal areas. Free trade routes crisscrossed the continent. Goods and people moved freely along them. Men dominated the long-distance trade while women held sway over the rural markets, which largely involved trade in agricultural produce.

Prices in African markets were not controlled or fixed by chiefs or tribal governments. They were determined by bargaining in accordance with the laws of demand and supply. For example, when maize is scarce, its price rises, and the price of fish generally tends to be higher in the morning than in the evening, when fishmongers are anxious to return home.”

On private property, he made the following remarks:

“To secure initial startup capital for commercial operations, African natives turned to two traditional sources of finance. One was the ‘family pot.’ Each extended family had a fund into which members contributed according to their means. Among the Ewe seine fishermen of Ghana, the family pot was called agbadoho. Members borrowed from this pot to purchase fishing nets and repaid the loans.

The second source of finance was a revolving credit scheme that was widespread across Africa. It was called susu in Ghana, esusu in Yoruba, tontines in Cameroon, and stokvel in South Africa. Typically, a group of, say, ten people would contribute perhaps $100 each to a fund. When the fund reached a certain amount – say, $1,000 – it was distributed to members in turn, who invested the cash in an enterprise. The Grameen Bank in Bangladesh was built on this concept of a revolving rural credit scheme.

Profit made from these economic activities was private property; it belonged to the traders, not to chiefs or rulers. The traditional practice was to share profit. Under the abusa scheme devised by cocoa farmers in Ghana at the beginning of the twentieth century, net proceeds were divided into three parts: a third went to the owner of the farm, another third went to hired labourers, and the remaining third was set aside for maintenance and expansion. Under the less common abunu system, profits were shared equally between owner and workers. Variants of this profit-sharing system were extended beyond agriculture to commerce and fishing.”

Both trade and private property in this context converged to form what Ayittey calls “peasant capitalism,” a distinct form of capitalism that was structured around clans and based on profit-sharing. It operated within an environment where clans had the economic freedom to engage in a wide range of economic activity without seeking permission from traditional authorities.

One must add that this form of capitalism differed from modern capitalism in that it was not primarily characterised by wage labour systems that drove large-scale individual accumulation, particularly in the context of the Industrial Revolution in the Western world.

Ayittey further notes that, with the exception of parts of Central and Southern Africa where colonial regimes did not confine themselves to urban enclaves and instead attempted to control indigenous economic activity, peasant capitalism largely thrived in West Africa where local populations were able to continue their economic activities and generate prosperity.

The post-colonial rejection of markets

The situation would change significantly in the post-colonial era when leaders such as Julius Nyerere assumed power in newly independent states and rejected capitalism in favour of various socialist projects such as Ujamaa that destroyed indigenous forms of capitalism and contributed to economic decline and poverty.

Over time, a culture of hostility towards Africa’s heritage of markets, trade, and private property was cultivated by a generation of leaders who expanded state ownership, control, and intervention in the economic life of Africans.

So, is capitalism unAfrican?

Today it is not far-fetched to argue that markets, trade, private property, and even the very idea of profit-making are still viewed with suspicion in many circles. They are often treated as inorganic Western concepts that are somehow incompatible with traditional African value systems. Wealthy individuals, even those who have generated their wealth through enterprise and by creating value for society, are also viewed with suspicion.

And so, one returns to the question that was posed at the beginning: is capitalism unAfrican?

The easy and simplified answer may be yes. But the more complex answer is that capitalism arguably did exist in indigenous forms in pre-colonial Africa. This was, of course, not modern capitalism as it is conventionally understood, but it was nevertheless a form of capitalism that was built around private property, trade, and markets.

What this means is that the discourse surrounding capitalism as some inherently foreign Western ideology is historically inaccurate, overly simplified, and ultimately counterproductive. It has contributed to the reluctance of many black South Africans to embrace free market policies because such policies are viewed as being alien to their value systems.

Markets remain the most consistently proven mechanism for generating wealth and reducing poverty across the world. If South Africa, and Africa more broadly, is to achieve meaningful economic progress, there must be a recognition that there is nothing inherently unAfrican about capitalism. Far from being alien to the continent, elements of it have long formed part of Africa’s own economic heritage, and they may ultimately prove essential to its future prosperity and liberation.

Ayanda Sakhile Zulu holds a BSocSci in Political Studies from the University of Pretoria and is a Policy Officer at the Free Market Foundation.

Written By: Peter Wandwasi, PhD

In general, there are assertions that corruption is fueled by greed and an addiction to theft, underscoring the notion that those who engage in corrupt practices often do so not from a position of economic need, but rather from a position of wealth, driven by an addiction to theft. Arguably, the perpetrators are typical individuals who have already amassed significant resources and become increasingly addicted to stealing public funds. Such individuals should not be allowed to hold public office.

It is not in doubt that corruption remains a pervasive issue affecting governments, economies, and communities alike, posing dangerously debilitating effects in African countries. The assertion that “corruption is fueled by greed and an addiction to theft” sheds light on a critical dimension of corrupt practices—one that highlights the motivations driving individuals who engage in stealing public funds.

This analysis challenges the idea that corruption arises solely from economic hardship. While my analysis supports the argument that many corrupt individuals often come from backgrounds, it also examines other factors that contribute to corruption, specifically the role of greed and a compulsive desire for theft among those who steal public funds.

Understanding Corruption

Corruption can be broadly defined as the abuse of entrusted power for private gain. It manifests in various forms, such as bribery, embezzlement, and nepotism, impacting governance and economic development. Corruption undermines trust in public institutions, distorts market competition, and exacerbates inequality. Notably, the assertion in the text posits that those engaging in corrupt practices are often not driven by necessity but by an insatiable desire for more—an “addiction to theft.”

The Role of Greed

Greed, in the context of corruption, refers to an excessive desire for more than what one requires, particularly in relation to wealth and power. It is often associated with materialism and a lack of both social responsibility and a public demeanour of remorse. Those who misappropriate public resources while in office are often motivated by the pursuit of kleptocratic power and a desire for grand status. Their actions are characterized by an insatiable hunger for unlimited financial gain, rather than any real economic need. Arguably, many high-profile corrupt officials come from already privileged backgrounds, suggesting that their actions are driven by greed rather than the quest for survival.

Some men and women get involved in corruption scandals involving bribery and abuse of power amongst the political elite, who use political positions of power to extract favours from businesses, underscoring how individuals in power can be motivated by greed rather than need.

Addiction to Theft

The phrase “addiction to theft” introduces a psychological perspective to understanding corruption. When individuals engage in corrupt practices, they might experience a temporary high thrill akin to addictive behaviour. This reinforces the idea that corruption is not merely a rational choice but can become a compulsive habit. This view aligns with the concept of “moral disengagement,” where individuals justify unethical behaviour to align with their desire for wealth.

In general, individuals with higher levels of materialism are more likely to engage in unethical behaviour. For example, in a society where wealth becomes the primary measure of success and a source of delusions of grandeur, it creates an environment where theft and corruption are normalized. In this context, obtaining wealth through corrupt means can be seen as acceptable, exacerbating the cycle of corruption.

The Structural Dimension of Corruption

While individual greed significantly contributes to corruption, it is essential to consider the structural factors that enable corrupt practices. Institutional failures, lack of accountability, and weak governance frameworks create an environment conducive to corruption. Countries with high levels of corruption often have fragile legal systems, restricted media freedom, and inadequate regulatory practices, allowing corrupt individuals to act without fear of repercussions.

In several oil-rich African countries, for example, systemic corruption affects the oil sector, where governments often have significant shareholdings. Consequently, substantial resources are siphoned off by government officials. Despite facing economic challenges, many top officials who engage in corrupt acts are driven by the distorted incentives provided by a poorly regulated sector. The interplay between individual greed and structural vulnerabilities highlights the complexity of corruption.

Societal Norms and Corruption

Culture and societal norms significantly influence the prevalence and acceptance of corrupt behaviour. In some societies, corruption may be normalized, with individuals viewing it as a necessary means to navigate bureaucratic systems. This creates a culture where theft, particularly involving public funds, is seen as a rite of passage for those in power.

The “gift culture” prevalent in many African countries further complicates the issue. In some contexts, providing gifts to public officials and, in turn, public officials providing cash gifts to individuals is seen as a way to ensure favourable treatment, blurring the lines between acceptable practices and corruption. This social acceptance of corrupt practices can perpetuate a cycle of greed and theft, where individuals feel justified in their actions due to cultural norms.

In conclusion, the assertion that “corruption is fuelled by greed and an addiction to theft” illuminates a complex interplay between wealth and psychological motivations. It is crucial to acknowledge that corruption is not simply a product of economic desperation but is often driven by an insatiable desire for more wealth and megalomaniac power, including influence among those who already possess significant resources.

To effectively combat corruption, policymakers must establish strong institutional frameworks that promote transparency and accountability. Strengthening democratic institutions and promoting a culture of ethical governance can mitigate the tendency for wealth-driven corruption. Addressing the psychological roots of greed and an addiction to theft may be essential to create a moral environment where accumulating wealth does not lead to the erosion of public integrity’s ethical standards.

Dr Peter Wandwasi has a PhD in Metaevaluation from the University of the Witwatersrand and is a research associate at the Middle East -Africa Research Institute (MEARI)

Everywhere you turn – market stalls, offices, social media – people are complaining about the same thing: prices keep rising. In Nigeria, when people say, “the economy is bad,” what they really mean is that things are too expensive. The same frustration echoes across the world. Those viral videos of Americans and Europeans ranting in their cars about the cost of groceries and rent prove this isn’t a Nigerian or South African problem; it’s global.

Everyone hates inflation. Producers hate it, consumers hate it, and yet – miraculously – economists have managed to convince the world that this misery is “healthy.” We’re told that without constantly rising prices, civilization would somehow collapse. It’s one of the greatest psy-ops in modern history.

Meanwhile, when prices fall – when your salary suddenly buys more – people celebrate. Cheaper food, cheaper fuel, cheaper housing are universally seen as signs of a good economy, but the same economists who call inflation “growth” insist that falling prices, or deflation, are dangerous and destructive. They’ve inverted reality: turning pain into virtue, and relief into threat.

The truth is simpler, and far less flattering to their narrative. Inflation is not prosperity, and deflation, far from being a curse, is often a sign of a healthy economy. The story we’ve been told about inflation and deflation isn’t just wrong; it’s perfectly backward.

Deflation myths

What’s even more absurd than the claim that deflation is harmful are the arguments trotted out to defend it. Here are the usual talking points used to slander falling prices and justify perpetual inflation.

Producers stop producing

Inflationists argue that as prices fall, profits follow, and that tumbling profits discourage future production, therefore, “experts” must inflate the currency to keep prices and profits high, for production to continue.

Sounds good until you consider that profits are the difference between prices and costs of production and that falling prices also means costs also fall, so as prices fall, so do the costs of production, meaning the profit of the producers aren’t affected.

Deflation signals abundance, not disaster. In a truly productive economy, lower prices are the visible proof of progress.

Consumers stop consuming

This is perhaps the most ridiculous of the sophisms employed by the inflationists. “Experts” claim that if prices fall, people will wait forever for cheaper goods, that no one would buy an iPhone this year, if they know they can get it for a lower price next year.

Even a child knows this is nonsense. The people in charge of our economies argue that when hungry, you will turn down a serving of Pap or Jollof Rice, because you know it will be cheaper later. What an absurdity.

Some inflationists recognise the absurdity of this argument, and admit their wrong, but unwilling to let go of their dogma, argue that though consumers won’t defer consumption of what they classify as “necessary goods”, that they won’t do the same for other goods. Ignoring the hubris of them assuming they know what every individual deems necessary, the lines at iPhone stores, video game stores when a new console or game is launched, etc proves that this is untrue. Consumers don’t defer consumptions of goods deemed frivolous, like the latest iPhone or the lates instalment of Call of Duty in hope that it will be cheaper later.

Debt becomes unbearable

Deflation does make debt repayment harder for those who borrowed recklessly, but that’s justice, not a flaw. Regardless, when bad loans fail, it doesn’t spell disaster for an economy, as assets don’t vanish; they just get sold to more prudent hands. Capital isn’t destroyed but reallocated to those who can use it wisely. The total number of commodities remain the same; the ownership is the only thing that changes. The individual debtor is harmed for his reckless investing, but the economy is largely unharmed. This is the market cleansing process.

Alternatively, debt contracts can be written to adjust for expected price changes. It’s not that complicated.

Unemployment rises because wages are sticky

The “sticky wages” theory claims that as prices fall, employers would have to lower wages to maintain profits, but employees won’t accept nominal pay cuts, which leads to them being laid off, i.e., unemployment rises.

In the case of falling prices, workers have two options, either they accept lower nominal wages, or they get fired and reemployed at another firm for the same lower nominal wages.

It is important to note that the unwillingness to accept lower wages is created by the state through minimum wage laws, union regulations, and inflation-linked contracts. In a free market, wages adjust naturally.

Also, if prices fall faster than wages, workers’ real purchasing power rises. They live better even if their pay is smaller on paper. In the late 19th century, America had mild deflation, rising real wages, and booming growth – a historical fact the inflationists conveniently ignore.

So why defend inflation?

Because inflation is power. It’s how governments tax you without a law. It’s how central banks steer markets and fund deficits. It’s how the political class lives at your expense while you’re told that “a little inflation is good for you.”

By contrast, deflation ties their hands. It enforces honesty. It makes saving worthwhile, exposes waste, and stops the illusion of prosperity built on credit. Inflation is the lifeblood of the managerial state; deflation is its audit.

In conclusion

Prices that fall because productivity improves are not a curse; they’re civilization’s dividend. Every time innovation makes things cheaper and better, humanity wins. To fear that is to fear progress itself.

The myth of “healthy inflation” is one of the most successful lies ever sold. It keeps you chasing higher nominal wages while your purchasing power silently erodes. It trains you to see prosperity in numbers, not in what those numbers can buy.

Deflation doesn’t destroy economies. It’s a sign that society is producing more than it was before, it’s a sign of abundance, it’s a sign of prosperity.

The real danger isn’t falling prices; it’s believing the people who insist that theft through inflation is “stability.”

Econ Bro (@EconBreau and @EconBreau2 on Twitter/X) is a Nigerian Austrolibertarian economist and an apprentice at the Mises Institute. Under the organisation name “The Freedom Institute” he teaches individual liberty, personal responsibility, private property rights, free markets, and sound money to mostly young people across Nigeria. Econ Bro is an Associate of the Free Market Foundation.

The ANC doesn’t want South Africa to be rich; it doesn’t want South Africans to be rich. Unless, of course, those South Africans are their cronies and paymasters. Rather, the ruling party wants South Africa to be a deindustrialised, squalor-filled failed state. Because it is easier to control a destitute population than it is to run roughshod over an educated, well-paid middle class.

Despite decades of corruption, mismanagement and disastrous policies, we still have a habit of attributing positive intentions to the ruling party. We like to think that it’s just a few bad eggs.

The country was united behind #ZumaMustFall and combatting state capture pre-2020. But in the years since President Cyril Ramaphosa took the helm, more of the media and the so-called intellectual class have become ANC apologists. Fuelled by imported left-wing ideology from overseas, or too embarrassed by their misplaced faith in Ramaphosa to admit their mistakes, what Lenin called the “useful idiots”, have become firm supporters of the ANC. But why?

Nothing has really improved since Ramaphosa became president. Why should it? He was deputy president under Zuma. He’s been involved in the ruling party since the 90s. He was in the halls of power during every single crisis and every single error.

The ANC wasn’t buoyed into some moral enlightenment by Ramaphosa’s ascension. It was just business as usual. The only difference is Ramaphosa has better PR; while Zuma was willing to loot openly, selling off parcels of South Africa’s critical infrastructure to gangsters, Ramaphosa does it much more privately and insidiously.

Rather than cold, hard gangsterism, Ramaphosa seems more like a true believer in the ANC’s ideological hogwash. He has doubled down on destroying property rights, crucial for literally every successful civilisation to function. Race-based legislation has increased under his tenure, pushing us further down the road of racial resentment and hatred. And our society has become more controlled, chaotic and poverty-stricken. Ramaphosa has firmly aligned South Africa with governments responsible for genocides, brutal invasions and terror attacks, while alienating our profitable trade partners.

Above all that, state-capture never ended. It’s just ANC politicians directly destroying parastatals and failing to fulfil tenders rather than being sold to Zuma’s gangster pals.

This all should lead us to an important conclusion. Zuma wasn’t just an embarrassing episode in the ANC. He was an emblematic symbol of what the ruling party truly represents. Crude vernacular, corrupt dealings, and brain-dead policy. Ramaphosa just took the torch.

But why does the ANC continue to behave in such a manner despite over thirty years of turmoil? Can’t they see that they are causing millions to suffer? Can’t they see that a corrupt police force driven more by graft and ideology than sense will result in thousands dead and raped? Can’t they see that you can’t expect job creation if you alienate the job creators? Can’t they see that you cannot expect competence when incompetence is accepted?

The fact of the matter is that the ANC is aware of all these things. They know that the country is in a kak state. They’ve been told as much by dozens of think-tanks, hundreds of consultants, and countless articles, videos and social media posts. They’ve even admitted, rarely, that their policies aren’t working. But then, nothing changes. They double-down on calls for radical economic transformation, and they blame Jan van Rieebeck.

So, if the ANC knows something is wrong, and they continue to act the same way, why? Is it insanity? Very likely. But also likely is that it is all intentional.

The ANC is an African liberation organisation; a group obsessed with the idea of revolution, communism, and racialised socialism. Wherever this brand of revolutionary Afro-Socialism has been tried, the governments inevitably embrace a feeding frenzy of corruption, state-wide looting, and deindustrialisation.

The reason is that it’s easier to control a poor peasant class than it is to control rich industrialists or an educated middle class. Educated people ask questions. They vote for competent parties. At least, they do so when they haven’t been driven insane by the self-destructive ideology of wokery and transformania.

Rich industrialists are painted as villains because the government struggles to control them. They can leave, taking their expertise and capital with them. The ANC doesn’t want a partnership with big business unless it lines their pockets directly. And there are enough short-sighted businessmen who will wreck the economy for short-term profits.

Prosperity enables dissent and independent from the ruling party. Income earners don’t rely on grants and therefore can’t be blackmailed. Business owners create jobs and hold leverage. The ANC doesn’t like any of this. They want the certainty of an endlessly obedient population.

What South Africa needs it prosperity enabling policies and a government willing to pass them. What we need is politicians who don’t care about obedience or lining their own pockets, but only care about the prosperity and survival of our people.

Prosperity requires freedom; property rights, cheap and reliable electricity, safe streets, an independent judiciary and a competent and accountable civil service. Prosperity requires low barriers to hiring and firing, and a tax regime that rewards investment rather than punishes it. Prosperity requires rewarding wealth creation rather than stymying it.

The ANC does none of this. It desires serfdom, and it is only by the vibrancy and power of South Africa’s existing civil society and the will of its people that we’ve held the line for so long against complete authoritarian incompetency.

There is no fixing the ANC. If we want a future for all our children in this country, we need them to lose the elections and replace them with policy-makers who actually care about enriching their fellow South Africans – not enslaving them.

Nicholas Woode-Smith is a political analyst and author. He is the Managing Editor of the Rational Standard and a senior associate of the Free Market Foundation. He writes in his personal capacity.

Join Nicholas Woode-Smith, Martin van Staden and Ayanda Zulu as they unpack some of the most pressing issues of the week

In this episode, we discuss World No Tobacco Day, government attempts to restrict smoking through prohibition and regulation, and the broader implications for personal freedom.

We also examine the growing threat to free speech in South Africa and the importance of the recently relaunched Free Speech Union South Africa (FSU SA), an initiative of the Free Market Foundation dedicated to defending freedom of expression.

Learn more about the Free Speech Union of South Africa: https://freespeech.org.za

In general, I have lost interest in politics. I tend to see politicians as followers rather than leaders. Lasting change will come from a bottom-up effort. Politicians in a democracy go where people are. But some developments in the ANC and GNU deserve comment.

The first is the historic break-up of the tripartite alliance. The SACP has now taken serious steps to leave the alliance after years of hinting it would. They will be contesting the coming elections independently, and they are now openly campaigning for President Ramaphosa’s impeachment. Following the latest Phala Phala Constitutional Court judgment, we will come back to this.

At the same time, labour unions are in a weak position, but the labour lobby is stronger than it has ever been. While there are some attempts to reform labour law, such as introducing a three-month trial period where unfair dismissal claims would not be possible, there are also new restrictions being introduced, like doubling statutory severance pay. The labour unions in the alliance are strongly resisting the attempts at reform.

So the SACP leaving the alliance doesn’t mean socialist thinking will magically leave the ANC. But it is still an opportunity for the ANC to go back to its more liberal, African nationalist roots. Those who care about the ANC should take some time to reflect on the evolution of the organisation over the past 114 years, what the original mission was, how and why it changed, and how it needs to adapt to modern South African reality.

The alliance with the communists, socialists and labour movement was necessary in order to provide internal resistance to apartheid, as labour unions were key to the fall of apartheid, as well as secure funding and arms for the ANC and its armed wing. The USSR and CCP would not have funded the ANC without the SACP’s support. Following the fall of the Berlin Wall and the transition to the current constitutional order, the rationale for putting the alliance with leftist forces ahead of the ANC’s historic mission of restoring the property rights of the Bantu peoples of South Africa was no longer present.

African nationalism is not well suited to party politics either. What experience has proven is that such movements work best at the private level. The closest parallel to African nationalism is Afrikaner nationalism. It worked best when it was a grassroots community movement and became oppressive when it seized state power. We do not need African supremacist thinking. Mandela understood this well when he pointed to black domination as being an evil to be fought as much as white domination was.

The ANC would do well to find its way to being a “parliament of the Bantu people”, as it sometimes claims to be, and separate itself from party politics. This would give a platform for all Bantu people, from liberals to socialists, nationalists, libertarians, conservatives, etc., to debate a way forward and, more importantly, to form institutions that address problems we face in our communities.

Of course, these people would have to fund the ANC themselves, so they would have to see value in this. And a political party, or even numerous political parties, could be just one of the possible outcomes of this platform. Today, Solidarity and AfriForum represent between 300,000 and 500,000 members, according to online sources. Yet the party which is the closest thing to a political representation of Afrikaner nationalism, the FF+, gets less than half of this maximum number of votes.

Yet I would argue Solidarity and AfriForum are far more effective representatives of Afrikaner interests than the FF+ is. And yes, I know they work together. That is the point. It is through the lobbying efforts of AfriForum and Solidarity that the plight of South African farmers came to the attention of the highest levels of government in Washington. I may not like the obviously false framing of white genocide that Trump uses, but it’s hard to deny the effectiveness of these organisations.

Relying on state power as the primary means of organising themselves and pursuing their interests objectively led to a decline in the ability to pursue these interests. This is why South Africa became isolated under apartheid and the government was eventually forced into negotiating with its enemies. This objective loss was a blessing in disguise for the ability of Afrikaners to organise through institutions, whether these are community institutions or businesses.

The loss of the ANC’s majority in the 2024 election must bring about a similar reflection and pivot among the Bantu peoples who still desire cooperation among Bantu and the pursuit of our mutual interests. What exactly are these interests, one may ask? Let’s start with poverty. After more than 30 years of state dominance, the Bantu peoples of South Africa are still the poorest and least productive, as a collective, among all groups.

We urgently need to uplift ourselves through wealth-building institutions. This cannot be led from above. Those who believe BEE, affirmative action and grants can ever do anything for us will wait forever. We need to do it ourselves. History has proven that any people can uplift themselves if they really want it.

We can complain about business funding, or realise the enormous potential stokvels have if used in the right way. We can complain about the lack of jobs, or realise that we don’t have to enforce labour laws on the government’s behalf. And we can complain about education, or realise that nothing is stopping us reforming our own schools, like my former school, Phendukani Full Service High School, did. It is now regularly beating former Model C and private schools in KZN on every metric. The models exist; it is up to us if we want to apply them.

The second most important issue is crime. We need to form community watch organisations. Indeed, this is already happening. This could be a much-needed outlet for youths who see no hope because they can’t get jobs. Training can be provided, and we must also lobby for gun rights. It is not just Afrikaners who have an interest in being able to own firearms legally, as any taxi owner, or any property owner really, will tell you.

I would say the third most important issue is language. Bantu languages are going extinct, and it worries me how little this worries everyone else. Parents see no problem educating their children solely in Afrikaans and English. They even express pride that their child does not know IsiZulu, IsiXhosa, etc. They do not fight for their languages in the media and, more importantly, as members of school governing bodies when language policies are set.

This has real consequences. I initially sent my daughter to an English-only crèche, the best one in Newcastle, part of a school that goes up to Grade 12, now owned by the Curro group. She is a brilliant young girl, but she could not communicate this at school and was always miserable. Not to mention that she had to wake up very early to take the scholar transport to the school.

After a few weeks of this, schools were closed for COVID, and I saw the laughable attempts at online teaching as an opportunity to take her out of the school. I paid the fees for the rest of the year, which was painful, and sent her to a much cheaper crèche, technically an ECD centre, located in the township with a good reputation. When the time came for her to move to Grade 1, public schools wanted to force her to repeat Grade R, so I started looking for a private school where the teachers would be able to communicate in IsiZulu with her.

By God’s blessing, I found one. Essentially the only black-owned private school in Newcastle, it was owned by African immigrants. She has thrived there and is currently in Grade 4. This is despite the fact that some naysayers told me not to send her to that school because it was run by “amakwerekwere”. They didn’t seem to mind the schools run by white people and only offering English and Afrikaans.

When you lose your language, you lose access to your history and your people’s accumulated genius. This is particularly important because the Bantu did not develop writing, so our history is in oral form. Imagine losing the ability to understand izithakazelo, imperfectly translated as clan praise songs, or the songs your grandmother used to sing. That would be equivalent to losing your identity.

As we speak, we do not have nearly enough books in the Bantu languages. I was lucky that my grandmother was a voracious reader of Zulu novels, so that was my first exposure to reading. I was shocked to discover, after reading them all and getting a library card, that the books I had read at home were most of the Zulu books available at the library too, and that a public library in a township in KwaZulu-Natal had more Afrikaans books than Zulu books.

And lastly, when it comes to ANC politics, the political culture of the ANC needs to change if it is to represent the interests of most Bantu people again. Reflexively defending their leaders will not do. Whipping their members to oppose the Section 89 panel report on Phala Phala was unacceptable, just as whipping their members to oppose the impeachment of Jacob Zuma was unacceptable. The only votes that should be whipped are things that are in the manifesto. At the same time, we as voters need to care more about the manifestos of the different parties than the personalities of those parties.

Our institutions are largely modelled on British ones, so if we want these institutions to work optimally, we should take it upon ourselves to learn from the political culture of the British. When following a British election campaign, you will be struck by how seriously they take the manifesto, even going so far as to cost the manifesto and campaign on this. It’s not just a list of promises. Voters want to know if it’s actually possible within the constraints of the budget. In the Commons, within a party caucus, especially in the governing party and the official opposition, there is a clear distinction between the backbench, ordinary MPs, and the frontbench, those who are in government or, for the official opposition, those who are in the shadow cabinet. There is no expectation that backbenchers will vote for everything the government wants, only what is in the manifesto.

As Bantu people, we have to abandon the desire for special treatment from the state. That is a recipe for decline for any people. The Constitution, taken at face value, provides a good starting point for all peoples of South Africa, including the various Bantu peoples. But we have to be honest with ourselves and abandon regressive policies like BEE and the attempts to weaken property rights.

The political organisation of all Bantu people as a group started through the opposition to attempts to take away our property rights, including our right to buy land, so land reform does not only depend on government power. We need to rediscover the energy towards institution-building that existed before 1994 and that died when we fell for the lie that the state was now on our side.

Mpiyakhe Dhlamini is a libertarian, writer, programmer and an Associate of the Free Market Foundation.

There’s a quiet kind of tyranny that goes unnoticed in most public and academic discourse: the tyranny of language. Not overt censorship or propaganda, but the more insidious way that inherited words and labels—like proletariat, bourgeoisie, society, or the collective—frame thought long before we consciously engage with the ideas they supposedly represent. These are not neutral descriptors. They are, more often than not, conceptual straightjackets, designed to smuggle in assumptions, prescribe roles, and trap us in narratives that aren’t of our own making. I’ve come to think of them as word prisons—terms we’re told to use, and then punished for questioning.

This essay is a reflection on the process of recognizing and rejecting those linguistic traps. It’s about why I believe many of the dominant social and ethical frameworks we inherit—from political ideologies to moral theories—are built on misused or misleading language. And more importantly, it’s about what happens when we abandon those imposed narratives and start again from the ground up, with the individual as the only valid starting point for ethics, autonomy, and meaning.

Rather than accepting that society precedes the individual, I propose the opposite: that what we call “society” is not a thing in itself, but the emergent byproduct of countless individual decisions and interactions. And once we stop treating labels and social categories as real or morally loaded, we open the door to a freer, more honest form of ethical life—one rooted in personal responsibility and voluntary association.

Section I: Society as an Emergent, Not Foundational, Concept

The claim that “society” exists as a coherent, morally significant entity has become so normalized that few ever stop to ask whether it’s even an intellectually valid concept. We’re encouraged to think of society as a kind of organism—one with interests, needs, and values that stand above or apart from those of the individuals who supposedly compose it. But this view gets it backwards. Society is not a precondition for the individual; it is an emergent outcome of the individual’s actions. It has no consciousness, no agency, no moral compass of its own.

To speak of society as though it can act, judge, or deserve is a linguistic sleight of hand—a metaphor that has quietly been mistaken for fact. And once the metaphor hardens into dogma, it becomes a tool of manipulation. Individuals are told to “do their part,” to “sacrifice for the greater good,” or to “be on the right side of history”—as if history itself is a moral judge and society its jury. In this framework, the individual becomes not a moral agent, but a resource to be managed.

But society, if we are to use the word at all, should be understood as a descriptive term—a shorthand for the totality of voluntary interactions between autonomous individuals. It is a pattern, not a person. A map, not the terrain. When we begin from this understanding, the moral weight shifts—rightly—back to the individual. It is not society that must be made better; it is individuals who must reflect, choose, and act well.

This reframing has enormous consequences. It means that collective outcomes are not the product of “society” functioning properly or failing, but of individuals exercising their freedom—for good or ill. It also means that social change cannot be imposed from above through re-engineering of the so-called structure, but must grow out of changes in individual thought, behavior, and voluntary cooperation.

In short, society is not a moral authority. It is a side effect.

Section II: Word Prisons — How Language Hijacks Thought

The human mind is acutely sensitive to language—not just in how it communicates, but in how it interprets the world. Words don’t merely describe reality; they construct it. When we inherit terms that come bundled with ideological weight, we don’t just adopt the vocabulary—we risk adopting the worldview baked into it. These are not just words. They are word prisons: preloaded concepts that dictate the boundaries of thought, often before we’ve had the chance to question their validity.

Linguistic traps operate by smuggling in assumptions. Take the term proletariat—it doesn’t simply mean “worker,” it implies a specific relationship to capital, a historical role, and a set of interests defined not by the individual but by their assigned class identity. To accept the term is to accept a framework: one in which you are a character in someone else’s story, with a pre-written script and a prescribed set of grievances.

The same applies to bourgeoisie, capitalist, oppressor, or even society itself. These words rarely appear as neutral descriptors; they come pre-charged with emotional and moral connotations. They frame discussions so that certain conclusions feel inevitable and others unthinkable. They encourage allegiance to abstractions over clear thinking, and allegiance to collectives over personal agency.

More dangerously, these linguistic categories often operate in binary. If you are not one, you are the other. If you question the framing, you’re accused of betraying your group—or of being hopelessly naïve, or worse, complicit. Language becomes less about clarifying thought, and more about enforcing a kind of cognitive allegiance: Are you with the workers or the capitalists? Are you for the oppressed or the oppressors? Are you on the right side of history?

In this environment, moral nuance is sacrificed. Ethical inquiry becomes performance. And the individual’s role as a reflective, self-responsible actor is eroded in favor of identity categories and group moralism.

But once we learn to recognize these word prisons, we can choose to walk out. We can question not just the ideas inside the frame, but the frame itself. We can ask: Who decided these labels were valid? Who benefits from us thinking in these terms? And what would it mean to discard them altogether, and speak in the language of individuals rather than categories?

Language should serve clarity, not ideology. And when we free ourselves from conceptually rigged terms, we free ourselves to think more honestly—and live more freely.

Section III: The Ice Cream Stand — A Parable of Voluntary Value

To ground this discussion, let me offer a simple thought experiment—something I imagined recently that helped crystallize my unease with labels and inherited narratives.

Imagine a 12-year-old with a hundred Rand—a birthday gift from an aunt—on a hot summer day. He buys a few ice creams and sells them on the beach. He doubles his money. The next day, emboldened, he borrows a thousand Rand from his grandfather and does it again—on a bigger scale. This time, he earns two thousand. He pays back his grandfather, with interest. Everyone wins.

There’s no exploitation here. No power imbalance. Just initiative, voluntary cooperation, and a basic application of trust and risk. The child took on the burden of labor, of planning, of responsibility—and the grandfather took on the risk of investment. Both acted freely. Both benefited. No ideology is necessary to explain what happened. No label improves the outcome. No historical narrative clarifies the morality.

But now let’s inject the language of class struggle. Suddenly, the grandfather is a capitalist, and the child becomes exploited labor. The profit is no longer a reward for risk and initiative—it’s viewed as a symptom of systemic imbalance. The child has internalized the ideology of his oppressor. The grandfather is morally suspect for having wealth to lend. And the story—once one of voluntary cooperation and mutual gain—becomes a tale of invisible injustice.

This is the damage that ideological framing does. It hollows out the reality of the interaction and replaces it with a narrative imposed from the outside. It flattens moral nuance. It overrides context. It tells you not just what to think, but how to feel about what you think. And most dangerously, it tells you who you are—based not on your actions or intentions, but on where you fit in a predetermined moral schema.

But when we return to the raw facts of the story—what actually happened—we find something far more meaningful: the emergence of value, trust, and dignity through free association. No top-down structure imposed the rules. No collective dictated outcomes. Just two individuals engaging in mutual risk and reward.

This is what society actually is: not a blueprint handed down from above, but a bloom of voluntary interactions. It is not something to serve or obey—it is something that emerges when individuals are left free to act with integrity and imagination.

Section IV: The Ethics of the Individual — Morality Without a Master

If society is not a moral agent, and if language can mislead us into inherited roles and synthetic loyalties, then where should ethics begin? The only coherent answer is: with the individual.

Ethics, properly understood, is not a social contract written in collective blood, nor a moral script handed down from ideological pulpits. It is a process of reflection, choice, and responsibility that begins and ends with the individual. Not because individuals exist in isolation, but because only individuals can choose. Only individuals can reflect. Only individuals can be held to account.

This is not a denial of the existence of others, or of the real consequences our actions have on them. Rather, it is an insistence that meaningful moral action must originate within the self. Any ethical framework that asks people to perform goodness according to an external blueprint—whether religious, political, or social—is a system of behavioral compliance, not moral responsibility.

The ethical individual doesn’t act correctly because they were told to. They act well because they’ve thought well

Bryan Theunissen is a South African doctor with a stubborn streak of optimism. Even after years of watching bad policy win, he still insists on pointing to better choices.

A few years ago Anne Applebaum lamented how many of her friends from the political right are now authoritarians. She wrote of a group of friends who were once at her home:

“…You might also have called most of my guests liberals – free-market liberals, or classical liberals – or maybe Thatcherites.”

I suggest she saw this trend among those people because she defined liberal as “free market” primarily; in other words, if someone claims to believe in free markets they are a liberal. Wrong! Economic freedom is one part of the traditional liberal agenda and history, but only one part.

Applebaum seemed to define her “classical liberalism” as primarily, if not exclusively, economic. She equated “classical liberalism” to “free-market liberals.” Depoliticised markets are only a portion of the liberal agenda.

Traditional liberalism was fighting for issues such as abolitionism and freedom of conscience before it fought for markets. Classical liberalism was already explicitly defending rights – perhaps not consistently – well before Adam Smith published The Wealth of Nations.

Too many sympathisers to this idea think its core is free markets and thus fall for the delusion that conservativism is some variant of “classical liberal,” because they claim to support markets.

But, a classical liberal holds to individual rights as his core value, not markets. Markets are derivatives of rights theory and intertwined with the liberal theory of rights.

Conservatives tend to oppose individual rights favouring collectivist concepts. The “common good” comes before individual rights to them, provided you define the common good with religious terms, something like what the illiberal Left does.

Individual rights mean individualism – something for which conservatives don’t care. They are primarily advocates of the herd, they preach social conformity in the name of tradition. They are happy for you to be free regarding which toothpaste to buy, just not thrilled if you assert the right to pick which person to marry, outside their approved categories.

Economic freedom is easy; social freedom is hard. Economics, while individualistic at its core, is also herd oriented. Allow me to explain: human economic needs are universal, pervasive, and common to all. We all need to produce to survive; we need food, shelter, etc. These are what Abraham Maslow called lower order needs.

Economic needs are not particularly individualistic. Thus, conservatives don’t immediately oppose this freedom in the short term. I do think they oppose it in the long term, and there were plenty of times in history when conservatives opposed it in the short term as well. Historically conservatives have not been friends of markets overall. Markets just aren’t seen as automatically threatening to the conservative herd identity.

What really gets the conservative’s back up is social freedom. Social freedom is freedom in the social, non-market realm. It is linked to markets, but it is heavily about individualistic wants and needs, or what Maslow called self-actualisation needs. Lower order needs tend to be relatively similar for all. Higher order needs are strongly individualistic.

The conservative is happy with freedom for the herd – that is in those areas where everyone has roughly similar needs – just not freedom for the individual – where needs and wants are unique, individualistic, perhaps even idiosyncratic or eccentric.

The further you get from herd needs the more uncomfortable the conservative becomes. Transgender individuals are a relatively small percentage of the population but take up an inordinate amount of conservative attention – all of it negative. The smaller the minority the more likely they are to attack it. The closer it gets to the unique individual, the further it drifts from the herd.

Their values fit a world where food was scarce and life was primitive. It just isn’t fit for a world of surplus and relative ease – relative to how humans lived for most of history. For the conservative mind it is easy to be “liberal” when it comes to property rights, difficult when it comes to gender identity, same-sex marriage, religious skepticism, free speech, etc.

In today’s world, economic freedom is largely respected – not enough perhaps – but economic freedom alone is not enough. We can’t just equate traditional liberalism with economic rights. Given the consensus in favour of markets – impure ones perhaps, but still markets – it is much more telling to discover how much social freedom one is willing to grant. Where they stand on rights for immigrants, or censorship, is more indicative as to whether they are a traditional liberal than their position on price controls or lower taxes.

I suspect many of Ms Applebaum’s friends were only “liberal” regarding economics, but underneath they were advocates of herd conformity to some degree. Capitalism empowers individualism which threatens conservatives. If to enforce herd values they must restrain economic freedom they will do so. When herd politics becomes dominant – such as fascism, nationalism and other such collectivist-based views – many conservatives will happily goose-step with the herd and turn their back on markets – precisely what we are seeing in America today?

James Peron has written for multiple publications and is the author of several books, including Exploding Population Myths and The Liberal Tide. James is an Associate of the Free Market Foundation.

Despite being a Democratic Alliance (DA) member, and who should know better, Minister of Basic Education Siviwe Gwarube has pressed forward with a proposal to overhaul South Africa’s history curriculum.

The proposed changes to the curriculum have already come under fire. The aim of the proposal is to “decolonise” the curriculum. This phrase should ring alarm bells, as the phrase itself is dripping with ideological baggage, especially considering that South Africa hasn’t been a full colony since 1910, has been sovereign since 1934, and hasn’t even been a member of the Commonwealth since 1961. Not to mention that the ANC has been in charge since 1994.

If the history curriculum hasn’t been “decolonised” since all those milestones, then what constitutes a colonised curriculum? As someone who was a history student, most of what we learnt was about South Africa and topics relevant to South African citizens.

But it should be clear to anyone with any familiarity to the woke Afro-centric left that that there is no clear goalpost or idea of what decolonisation actually means. But for the newly proposed legislation, the goal is to shift the focus onto “African-centred” history, while pushing European and “global North” history to the sidelines.

In practice, this has meant scrapping a lot of global subject matter like the World Wars, and the French Revolution, while creating an incredibly content heavy curriculum focusing on previously non-traditional mediums of study like oral history.

Much of the criticism has been on the fact that you can’t divorce South African history from global history. You can’t learn any history in a vacuum. You need to understand why Jan van Rieebeck came to the Cape, and you need to understand the British Empire, the World Wars and the Cold War to understand the creation of modern South Africa.

On top of that, studying empires like Ming China was fun and opened the eyes of young students to cultures and contexts they wouldn’t previously have been exposed to.

But criticism of the curriculum has gone further than criticising the Afro-centred nature of its.

The Biko and Black Consciousness sections of the curriculum have been downgraded to a footnote. This is important South African struggle history, but it also teaches students something that ANC doesn’t like. That the struggle wasn’t led primarily by the ANC – and was rather a multifaceted broad movement.

Through that curriculum change alone, we begin to see what this is; not merely a move to elevate the South African focus in the curricula, but rather to indoctrinate students with a more ANC-centric history. The fact that a DA Minister is leading this reform is shameful and shows how the hearts and minds of even the opposition is captured by the ANC’s narrative.

The new curriculum is not what we need. It will not help students learn about the history of South Africa or the world and it will not equip them to become inquiring minds.

But what will?

How should history be taught?

There will always be bias in history and in history curriculums. It’s not a mathematical subject where 2 + 2 is always self-evident. The content that is taught informs conclusions. This means that the government in power can push its own agendas to shape the national identity and perceptions of the past.

The best defence against this is for parents, private schools and communities to counter state propaganda with their own historical education. But most people won’t do this.

But let us presume that minister Gwarube actually wants to equip students to become inquisitive historians. She wants them to be educated in matters of the past. Then, the solution isn’t to flood them with a surface level flood of content. It is to teach them the skills to teach themselves.

History is an endless subject. World War 2, likely one of the most studied periods of history, lasted only 6 years (a little longer if you include the Japanese conquests beforehand). Yet, it would take multiple lifetimes to truly absorb every aspect of study of that war alone.

It is arrogant to presume that any topic of study deserves more attention than any other. Why should we ignore the importance of the French Revolution and favour the development of Khoi languages instead? Without either, this country would be unrecognisable from what it is today.

We cannot teach everything to every student. That is why professional historians specialise.

So, rather than try to teach random topics, extensive timelines, or biased perspectives, a South African history curriculum should be focusing on equipping students with the skills needed to study and analyse history. Content should be used as a test of skill rather than as rote memorisation of topics.

At a university level, students are taught how to scour the internet, books and archives for the information needed to understand history. They are instilled with a love for reading and learning. Something many history classrooms rather damage in their students.

Rather than tightening the focus to just South Africa and Africa, the history curriculum should be focusing on allowing students to focus on any part of history they enjoy, while giving a broad timeline of the key events that shaped the creation of the modern global system and the South African nation.

Teach colonialism, slavery, the Boer War, the struggle, and 1994. But also teach how the French Revolution led to ideas that influenced South Africa, how the Russian revolution led to the Cold War that led to the sustaining of Apartheid and the shaping of the ANC’s ideology.

But, most of all, teach students how to love history. Because if you love history, you learn far more from self-study than you ever will in a classroom.

Nicholas Woode-Smith is a political analyst, historian and author. He is the Managing Editor of the Rational Standard and a senior associate of the Free Market Foundation. He writes in his personal capacity.