“White or Wrong, My Family, My Tribe” was the title of a documentary I had planned to film in post-apartheid South Africa, but it never came to be.
In 1998, I returned from exile, intending to tell the story of my family, my tribe, and the fragile transitions of a newly democratic South Africa finding its footing among the world’s free nations. I had just begun filming at home in Durban and conducting research when my father suffered a stroke and was rushed to hospital.
Looking back now, as 2025 presents uncertainties, I realise I never got to explain us, my family, my tribe, to the world, nor did I reveal South Africa to my late father. He never saw how the freedom so many of us had made sacrifices for was, and continues to be, abused by greedy liberation fighters shamelessly feasting at the trough, indulging in blue lights, bling, crime, and corruption, and steering this beautiful country toward ruin.
I’m two years younger than my father was when he died, and I feel compelled to write this letter to him, to South Africa, and to the world. I write from Greece, where I’ve sought refuge because opportunities and a future seem increasingly reserved for anyone but an old white male like me.
I am nervous, concerned, and anxious. Our world has gone Zeppelin on us. Broad-Based Black Economic Empowerment (B-BBEE) policies and race-baiting have backfired spectacularly, as the powerful, incompetent, and politically connected elite have grown too fat and complacent to address the daily crises beyond their gilded palaces and narrow paradigms.
Think back to that profound moment in history when nearly every black person on Earth felt a surge of joy and tears of vindication. That moment was April 27, 1994, when South Africa broke free from the brutal grip of apartheid. This was not just a national liberation, it was a universal triumph for the oppressed, the discarded, and the abused. The world, vibrant with colour and hope, saw Nelson Mandela as a new messiah, a symbol of love, peace, and progress. The Iron Curtain had fallen, and though the future was uncertain, the air was filled with music, songs by Bob Marley, Johnny Clegg, and Savuka, among others. Nelson Mandela, a fusion of Marcus Garvey and Martin Luther King Jr., became a global icon of hope. He was celebrated on balconies reserved for history’s greatest figures, meeting queens, presidents, popes, and celebrities, all humbled in his presence. He was the man of the hour, the saviour, and the world gawked in awe.
When the Springboks won the Rugby World Cup in 1995, Mandela, wearing captain François Pienaar’s number 6 jersey, held the trophy aloft at Ellis Park in Johannesburg. South Africa, the stadium erupted, the world cheered, and we all shed tears. It was more than a rugby victory; it was a promise of unity and a brighter future. The streets of Soweto and Sandton echoed with song, and even our rivals, the All Blacks, understood the historical weight of the moment.
But hold on to that joy, cherish it, and place it on a mantelpiece, because history had other plans.
South Africa was a beacon of hope, a nation poised to rise in unison. The rainbow nation would show the world that rejecting an entire race as incompetent and backward was absolute folly. Black South Africans were handed the keys to Africa’s most profitable, promising, and functioning republic, a country of wine, heart surgeons, technology, nuclear bombs, and possibilities. The ‘liberators’ were handed the chance and the responsibility to vindicate themselves, their ancestors, and their race and remove the perpetual stain. The people of future fortunes were celebrating en masse, so much to live for… sadly, the sounds of jubilation and dancing transformed to tears, fears and rage. Remember the dancing? It shifted from the happy history books, from that moment of beauty, to be replaced by aggression, violence, and turbulence, militant protests, petrol bombs hurled through shop windows, miners gunned down, African immigrants torched in xenophobic attacks, citizens taunted and killed, and political looting that had seldom been seen on a democratic world stage. Empathy, warmth and welcome had found the exit; greed and exploitation had found the entrance.
History has taken another dramatic turn. The world order has entered a dubious reshuffle, and while some feel anxiety, others perversely celebrate. Donald Trump and his circle of South African advisors have singled out South Africa for scrutiny. Elon Musk, the Trump whisperer, has taken issue with South Africa’s race laws and legislation. Talks between South Africa and SpaceX to launch the Starlink internet service stalled after Musk and his ally, Trump, ramped up public rhetoric against laws aimed at redressing the racial inequality wrought by apartheid.
South Africa, exposed and vulnerable, has been cautioned. The World Bank and IMF have demanded the ANC cut “excessive” regulations and reform race-based laws to halt economic paralysis. While redress is crucial, the flawed B-BBEE framework has scared investors, fueled joblessness, and driven skilled professionals abroad. Elon Musk has echoed this critique, publicly condemning the ANC’s racist policies and refusing to invest in the country, while Donald Trump withdrew aid entirely. These external critiques underscore a grim reality: South Africa’s leadership has failed to inspire confidence, at home and abroad.
Meanwhile, the MK Party (uMkhonto weSizwe), led by Jacob Zuma, whose presidency was marred by widespread allegations of corruption, state capture, and the looting of public resources, is now taking AfriForum to court for treason. Their crime? Highlighting the plight of Afrikaners on the global stage. Let us spell “TREASON” in 11 languages, for this accusation rings hollow when weighed against Zuma’s treasonous legacy. His tenure is stained by allegations of rape, exploitation, corruption, and the systematic dismantling of functioning parastatals. It is a legacy that includes the Gupta scandal, where South Africa was sold to the highest bidders for billions, as well as claims of kickbacks from Russia, China, Iran, and other pariah states.
Who can forget the infamous “fire-pool” at Nkandla, a grotesque symbol of excess while millions languished in poverty? Or the 2021 Durban riots, ignited by MK cadres and Zuma’s defiance of justice, which left 350 dead, caused billions in damage, and exposed the fragility of social justice? Zuma’s alleged attempts to align South Africa with Putin’s Russia, reportedly in pursuit of personal gain through a potentially disastrous nuclear deal, further tarnish his record. Yet, despite these allegations, the vast majority of his crimes remain unresolved, buried under a justice system compromised during his presidency.
The ANC has introduced 117 racially skewed laws since 1994, many of which have exacerbated economic stagnation and contributed to South Africa having the highest unemployment rate in the world. Zuma’s rhetoric of “White Minority Capital” has deepened racial and economic divisions, while tribal loyalties and political connections have allowed criminals to evade accountability. This is not the legacy of a liberation movement; it is the legacy of a party that has lost its way, prioritising personal enrichment over the people it once promised to serve.
The ANC’s financial struggles have made it vulnerable to foreign influence, with claims that the party accepted bribes to pursue a controversial case against Israel at the International Court of Justice.
Meanwhile, left-leaning movements like the Economic Freedom Fighters, led by an unscrupulous and immature figure clad in a tin-pot dictator’s military fatigue, and Jacob Zuma’s ‘rag tag’ MK Party (Spear of the Nation) legally and loudly promote hate in South Africa without consequence.
On the far right and another continent, it’s MAGA and Trump’s vision of hate on steroids reflected on the global stage. We are watching children playing with blades and triggered bombs. It would be laughable if it weren’t so dangerously alarming, infantile, and threatening.
South Africa hosted the G20 meeting of foreign ministers in Johannesburg. U.S. Senator Marco Rubio declined to attend, citing disapproval of South Africa’s G20 theme: Solidarity, Equality, and Sustainability (three admirable words). The real problem was Ramaphosa, his ANC and their race laws.
The United States has formally boycotted the G20 summit for the first time, an unprecedented move. The U.S. has already cut aid to South Africa. While the country isn’t heavily reliant on American assistance, there are fears that its preferential trade status under the U.S. African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA) could be next. The spotlight on our country is glaring, and those in power, illuminated by its harsh light, may struggle to evade what’s coming. After 30 years of abuse, mismanagement, corruption, and ill-prepared leadership, the questions we are asking are urgent: Can South Africa and its corrupt leadership endure four more years of relentless scrutiny? If they dig into our cabinet and closets, they will find fresh skeletons and cushions stuffed with cash and the keys to the country’s future stuck in the treasure chest.
This reflection and observation are not about vilifying one group to uplift another. I will never forget the pleasure apartheid Afrikaners took in obeying the most despicable and vicious laws. I experienced this firsthand when apartheid cops beat me up. I am also acutely aware that a significant number of white Christian Americans voted for an “Orange Felon,” and the world will grapple with the consequences of that choice for years to come.
But behind these toxic distractions lies a country of immense potential. South Africa is a unique land of breathtaking geography, diverse ecosystems, wildlife, nature, 11 official languages, and countless dialects, with the oldest living peoples woven into the fabric of these extraordinary cultures. Its cuisine tells the story of its history, its humour is hilarious and resilient, and its Constitution is unprecedented. Having lived across Africa, Europe, and South America and filmed in America and Asia, I can attest that South Africa and its exceptional people are truly spectacular.
As someone who spent 20 years in exile resisting a system built to oppress people of colour, I openly denounced my white community for their role in perpetuating injustice. I was not alone. Many young white South Africans sacrificed their homes, futures and lives to fight apartheid. For this, we were branded as traitors and heretics by our tribe. Silenced at home and censored in exile, we carried the crushing weight of shame for the legacy of our people and the blood on their hands. In a twisted form of gratitude, the security police harassed our families while we struggled to adapt to foreign lands. Refugees returning to a free South Africa faced setbacks instead of open arms. The world had moved on without us, and we were no longer wanted.
Once again, our anxieties are being tested as the racial fault lines in South Africa are reset, re-established, and deepened. Donald Trump has now extended an invitation to white Afrikaners to seek exile in America. Outside the U.S. embassy, orthodox Afrikaners rejoice, showing love and support for a man who stands accused of racism, sexual assault, and felony charges. Their faith, it seems, once comfortable with apartheid oppression, has been twisted to condone a criminal, offering them a saviour in the form of a white man from a distant land. This story is so tragic, false, and cheap that it feels biblical. Trump frames this as a rescue mission, but his motives are far from genuine. To me, he represents the enemy of empathy, decency and honesty on one side, while the ANC has become the enemy of the people, integrity, and peace on the other. Ironically, both the Afrikaner and the ANC have failed us, leaving South Africa trapped in a cycle of division and despair.
The Afrikaners being offered this American exile are met with backlash, but if I were one of them, I’d take the orange branch. You are Afrikaans, the oppressor and racist from 30 years ago, but your children are white, and BEE will limit their chances of finding a future. You are being threatened with death by Julius Malema, a cash-hungry comrade and the corrupt leader of the EFF. Your land, your future, and your livelihood are under siege. If I were a farmer (a Boer), I would pack up and take my children elsewhere.
The World Bank has identified South Africa’s two most crippling economic shackles: a suffocating regulatory environment and the tangled, bureaucratic nightmare of BEE laws. In a scathing report, the Bank demanded an end to “excessive” regulations and a complete overhaul of BEE policies to address the “signs of paralysis” strangling the economy.
BEE laws, introduced post-apartheid to redress historical inequalities, force companies to allocate 30% ownership to ‘historically disadvantaged groups’. While the intent may have been noble, the execution has been a disaster. Under the Broad-Based Black Economic Empowerment Act (B-BBEE) of 2003, these policies have become increasingly aggressive, prioritising race over qualifications and sparking fierce debates about fairness and efficiency. The result? A system that often rewards connections over competence, leaving skilled professionals sidelined and businesses frustrated.
Corruption in South Africa has become so brazen that it doesn’t even bother to hide anymore. The SABC, once a propaganda tool for white racism and later black corruption, now shamelessly glorifies the ANC regime’s excesses with bling, glamour, and celebrity puff pieces.
Once a world-class power utility, Eskom plunged the country into darkness and back into Stage 6 load-shedding after failures at the Camden, Majuba, and Medupi power stations. Political interference, bad coal, and outright sabotage for personal and political gain have brought the system to its knees. Meanwhile, the trains, once a symbol of reliable public transport, rust in abandoned stations, replaced by taxis that don’t pay taxes but do carry thugs and guns, the new law of the land. And the rot runs deeper. In 2023, South Africa recorded nearly 27,000 murders, according to official crime statistics. Our hospitals are crumbling, our communities are suffering, and we are committing crimes against our own. We lead the world in infanticide and gender-based violence, yet the ANC struts on the global stage, embracing Vladimir Putin, a dictator responsible for multiple invasions and countless deaths.
The potential loss of international funding is worrying; the billions wasted yearly on our billionaires, bloated government, royal families, and self-serving politicians could easily cover that loss. The embarrassing cash stash in Comrade President Ramaphosa’s couch cushions of $580,000 (or about 4 million South African Rand at the time) could fund a rural school or two. The “Phala Phala scandal” went viral on social media, but it distracts from the real issue: the enemy within. And who’s leading this systemic failure? None other than our smiling Comrade President, Cyril Ramaphosa.
South Africa has the potential to thrive and uplift its 60 million people, but the reality is starkly different. Today, we rank second-last among emerging markets for fixed investment—a damning statistic that underscores a sickening crisis. The collapse in investment from state-owned enterprises has left our infrastructure in ruins and government departments barely functional. Crumbling roads, relentless load-shedding, logistical nightmares, and water shortages have turned South Africa into a no-go zone for private investment. The risks far outweigh the rewards, leaving businesses with little reason to expand or innovate.
The result? South African companies are sitting on R1.2 trillion in idle cash—a staggering sum of untapped potential. The root causes are undeniable: corruption, policy uncertainty, and a spiraling debt crisis. The energy crisis, perpetuated by endless load-shedding, has crippled businesses, while our roads, ports, and railways are falling apart, leaving us unable to compete globally.
I had the privilege of working with the soft-spoken Moeletsi Mbeki, and when he spoke, I listened. Moeletsi Mbeki, the brilliant mind and former chairman of Endemol South Africa during my time as creative director of Big Brother South Africa, Fear Factor, and countless other TV shows, always struck me as a man of phenomenal intellect and crystal-clear clarity. When he speaks or writes, I listen. Moeletsi, the brother of former South African President Thabo Mbeki, is a political economist who has been vocal in his critique of South Africa’s BEE policies and affirmative action programmes. His insights are sharp, unflinching, and deeply thought-provoking.
Mbeki argues that BEE and similar policies have benefited a small elite of politically connected individuals rather than uplifting the broader Black population. He suggests that these policies have created a class of “rent-seekers” who accumulate wealth through political connections rather than productive entrepreneurship. His critique points out that BEE focuses too much on ownership redistribution and not enough on skills development, education, and fostering a truly productive entrepreneurial class.
He also highlights how these policies have discouraged foreign investment due to their complex regulatory requirements. Instead of racial quotas and ownership mandates, Mbeki advocates for a focus on education, skills development, and entrepreneurship support as a more sustainable path to economic empowerment. These views are laid out in his book Architects of Poverty, where he discusses how certain policies, including aspects of BEE, have sometimes reinforced rather than reduced economic inequality in post-apartheid South Africa.
Of course, Mbeki’s views are controversial, and opinions on affirmative action and BEE vary widely across South Africa’s political spectrum. But his critique is hard to ignore, especially when you are exposed to the blatant corruption stifling our country and borrowing from the futures of the youth.
I still consider myself a Durbanite, even after 20 years in exile, despite Durban being regressively held in a Zulu stranglehold. My former city was looted, ransacked, and burnt by “uMkhonto weSizwe,” the MK in the making. King Shaka, revered and honoured by the Zulus to an almost saintly degree, was an extremely violent man. When his mother died, he ordered the execution of over 7,000 people for showing insufficient grief. His military campaigns, known as the Mfecane, left millions dead.
Fast forward to 2025, and the heavily strained South African taxpayer supports 14 kingships, queenships, and over 844 traditional leaders. Thirteen per cent of the country’s land is designated as tribal, yet it contributes little to the national food chain. In 2022/23, the Zulu royal household alone received R67.3 million in funding, while the Ingonyama Trust, which manages Zulu tribal land, profited by R76.7 million in 2019/20, not from farming or development but from tenancy fees (Economic Freedom). These figures raise uncomfortable questions about priorities and accountability in a nation grappling with poverty and inequality.
Is Moeletsi alone? Where are the Black voices calling out their own? Where are the leaders and citizens brave enough to say, “Enough is enough”? Why is there no collective outcry against the bloodshed, rape, looting, and destruction plaguing our society? Why is there no introspection or critical examination of the failures to contribute to growth, technology, science, or even feeding our people? Why is no one saying, ” Hand over the keys”? Do we have good intentions for a great land and intend to uplift everyone, or are those voices being silenced and suppressed?
If I had made my documentary in 1998, it would have been hopeful, even naive, projecting a positive outlook for a nation on the brink of renewal. Mandela left office on 14 June 1999, succeeded by Thabo Mbeki. Mandela retired from active politics, dedicating himself to philanthropy and the ideals of reconciliation. But under Mbeki, the winds began to shift. Today, I would title the documentary Black in Time: Is This the Future We Fought For?
South Africa today is a nation in crisis. It holds the unenviable title of having the highest unemployment rate in the world, with millions of young people trapped in desperate hopelessness. The promise of liberation has faded, replaced by a reality of systemic failure and unfulfilled potential. Gender-based violence has reached epidemic proportions, leaving women and children living in constant fear. The police, tasked with protecting citizens, are often implicated in horrific crimes themselves.
I firmly believe in justice and fairness, but I also need to sustain myself in the country of my birth. However, my contribution to the resistance, like that of many white refugees, is neither respected, acknowledged, nor compensated. I am seen as white and judged as white, and this has had serious consequences for me. Despite being a multi-award-winning TV director with experience in countless countries, I have been turned away from work opportunities because I am “too white.”
Imagine the outrage if someone told a Black person under the current regime that they were “too Black.” The streets would burn with blood until the statement was retracted. Nelson Mandela and Bishop Desmond Tutu were anomalies, rare gems in a sea of greed and power. Comrade Ramaphosa, how are you and your billionaire friends and family, along with the overpaid thugs in our government, preparing us for the world of climate change, the African refugee crisis, the imminent American-Chinese-Russian colonisation, trade wars, worker exploitation, AI, capitalist consumption, greed, unprecedented data speed, and the dumping of inferior goods and politics on Africa? How are we meant to stand against empathy-deficient Afro-bashers like Elon Musk and Donald Trump, who are aiming at your throat and are fully prepared to hurt an entire nation, even a continent, to bring you, your friends, your family, your comrades and your ANC policies to justice?
Let us not leave the door open for threats, not human, economic, environmental, political, or climatic. We are vulnerable, weak, and fragile, and the biggest problem we face is the undermining of our country by placing remarkably inept individuals in positions of power. That is my greatest anguish. My fears are not those of a white man, nor are they about what your goons have done to us. My anguish is for all of us, for all South Africans, my Kenyan goddaughter included.
The final scene in my documentary would be me introducing my Kenyan goddaughter to my late father, Mr.Coetzer. I remember he still had an Afrikaans twang, even though he had lived in English-speaking cities for so long. I imagine him looking at her with concern, knowing the rampant xenophobia in KwaZulu-Natal. The documentary would end with the words: “Give an ignorant man an inch of power, and the angels shall weep.”
My child, I think we’ve wept enough.
The views of the writer are not necessarily the views of the Daily Friend or the IRR.
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