Latest news with #apartheid
The Guardian
an hour ago
- Politics
- The Guardian
‘We are privileged': liberal Afrikaners reject Trump's ‘white genocide' claims
For some white Afrikaner South Africans, Donald Trump's offer of refugee status in the US has been seen as a godsend. For others, it has provoked anger and frustration that they are being falsely portrayed as victims of a 'white genocide', 31 years after their community's own oppressive minority rule ended. In February, Trump signed an executive order claiming Afrikaners, who make up about 4% of South Africa's population, or about 2.5 million people, were victims of 'unjust racial discrimination'. The order cut aid to the country and established a refugee programme for white South Africans. The first group arrived in May. Afrikaners, descendants of Dutch colonisers and French Huguenot refugees who came to South Africa in the late 17th century, implemented apartheid from 1948. The regime violently repressed the black majority, while keeping white people safe and wealthy. South Africa remains deeply unequal. White South Africans typically have 20 times the wealth of Black people, according to an article in the Review of Political Economy. The spectacle of white people being flown to the US while Trump blocked refugees from war zones bemused and angered South Africans of all races. For some liberal Afrikaners, it felt personal. 'In terms of being singled out, for progressives it's extremely painful,' said Lindie Koorts, a history lecturer at the University of Pretoria. Koorts mentioned the phrase 'ons is nie almal so nie' ('we are not all like that'). She said the phrase is used by progressives to reach out across South Africa's divides without disavowing their Afrikaner or South African identities – despite it having become a cliche that conservative Afrikaners use to mock them. The rightwing Solidarity Movement, which includes a trade union and the campaigning group AfriForum, has lobbied Trump since his first presidential term for support in helping Afrikaners stay in South Africa, to preserve what Solidarity Movement says is a culture under threat. The group argues, for instance, that a recently implemented education law will limit Afrikaans schooling, something the ruling African National Congress disputes. There is not comprehensive polling data on Afrikaners' political views. However, the Freedom Front Plus party, which is seen as representing conservative Afrikaners, received about 456,000 votes in the 2024 national elections. Emile Myburgh, a lawyer who grew up during apartheid believing that Afrikaners were God's chosen people, said: 'I remember when I was a child often hearing Afrikaners say that: 'The one who rules the tip of Africa rules the world.' So we'd feel very special.' Sign up to Headlines US Get the most important US headlines and highlights emailed direct to you every morning after newsletter promotion As an atheist, Myburgh, 52, said he now felt excluded from the deeply religious community he grew up in. However, he disputed the claim that his culture was under threat, noting that he regularly attended Afrikaans book launches. 'In the circles that I move in, we do celebrate Afrikaans culture,' he said. Zahria van Niekerk, a 22-year-old fashion student, who was raised bilingually to help her get into university, disagreed that the Afrikaans language, of whom the majority of speakers are now non-white, was threatened. 'My whole family speaks Afrikaans … As long as I can speak it with my family, I'm not really concerned.' In May, Trump ambushed South Africa's president, Cyril Ramaphosa, in the Oval Office with claims that white farmers were being murdered for their race. However, Emil van Maltitz, an economics graduate and farmer's son, disagreed. The 21-year-old, who speaks Sesotho, Afrikaans and English, said: 'Most farmers are white Afrikaners, so it can easily be interpreted as racial targeting. I just think, personally, people are very vulnerable in those areas and they don't have a lot of help from the police.' In the last quarter of 2024, South African police recorded 12 murders on farms, including Black-owned smallholder plots, out of almost 7,000 murders across the country. Van Maltitz recalled young black farmers coming to his father to seek agricultural advice, saying it showed the value of South Africans working together. 'I love diversity, I love being around different people,' he said. Schalk van Heerden is a minister in the Dutch Reformed Church, the largest Afrikaans church. He joked that he was a 'missionary' within the DRC, which supported the apartheid regime. Van Heerden co-founded Betereinders in 2017 to bring about 50 to 100 Afrikaners to monthly brais (barbecues) with up to 200 black people in townships, where most black South Africans still live. Betereinders means 'better-enders' and is a pun on 'bittereinders' ('bitter-enders'), Afrikaners who refused to surrender to the British when their side lost the Boer war. When Trump introduced the refugee scheme for Afrikaners, Beterenders put up 10 billboards around Johannesburg and Pretoria saying, 'Not USA. You, SA.' Van Heerden said: 'We want to be proud about who we are … [But] we are not the big victims in this story. We are privileged, we are very grateful and we are thankful for everything we have.'
The Guardian
9 hours ago
- Politics
- The Guardian
‘We are privileged': liberal Afrikaners reject Trump's ‘white genocide' claims
For some white Afrikaner South Africans, Donald Trump's offer of refugee status in the US has been seen as a godsend. For others, it has provoked anger and frustration that they are being falsely portrayed as victims of a 'white genocide', 31 years after their community's own oppressive minority rule ended. In February, Trump signed an executive order claiming Afrikaners, who make up about 4% of South Africa's population, or about 2.5 million people, were victims of 'unjust racial discrimination'. The order cut aid to the country and established a refugee programme for white South Africans. The first group arrived in May. Afrikaners, descendants of Dutch colonisers and French Huguenot refugees who came to South Africa in the late 17th century, implemented apartheid from 1948. The regime violently repressed the black majority, while keeping white people safe and wealthy. South Africa remains deeply unequal. White South Africans typically have 20 times the wealth of Black people, according to an article in the Review of Political Economy. The spectacle of white people being flown to the US while Trump blocked refugees from war zones bemused and angered South Africans of all races. For some liberal Afrikaners, it felt personal. 'In terms of being singled out, for progressives it's extremely painful,' said Lindie Koorts, a history lecturer at the University of Pretoria. Koorts mentioned the phrase 'ons is nie almal so nie' ('we are not all like that'). She said the phrase is used by progressives to reach out across South Africa's divides without disavowing their Afrikaner or South African identities – despite it having become a cliche that conservative Afrikaners use to mock them. The rightwing Solidarity Movement, which includes a trade union and the campaigning group AfriForum, has lobbied Trump since his first presidential term for support in helping Afrikaners stay in South Africa, to preserve what Solidarity Movement says is a culture under threat. The group argues, for instance, that a recently implemented education law will limit Afrikaans schooling, something the ruling African National Congress disputes. There is not comprehensive polling data on Afrikaners' political views. However, the Freedom Front Plus party, which is seen as representing conservative Afrikaners, received about 456,000 votes in the 2024 national elections. Emile Myburgh, a lawyer who grew up during apartheid believing that Afrikaners were God's chosen people, said: 'I remember when I was a child often hearing Afrikaners say that: 'The one who rules the tip of Africa rules the world.' So we'd feel very special.' Sign up to Headlines US Get the most important US headlines and highlights emailed direct to you every morning after newsletter promotion As an atheist, Myburgh, 52, said he now felt excluded from the deeply religious community he grew up in. However, he disputed the claim that his culture was under threat, noting that he regularly attended Afrikaans book launches. 'In the circles that I move in, we do celebrate Afrikaans culture,' he said. Zahria van Niekerk, a 22-year-old fashion student, who was raised bilingually to help her get into university, disagreed that the Afrikaans language, of whom the majority of speakers are now non-white, was threatened. 'My whole family speaks Afrikaans … As long as I can speak it with my family, I'm not really concerned.' In May, Trump ambushed South Africa's president, Cyril Ramaphosa, in the Oval Office with claims that white farmers were being murdered for their race. However, Emil van Maltitz, an economics graduate and farmer's son, disagreed. The 21-year-old, who speaks Sesotho, Afrikaans and English, said: 'Most farmers are white Afrikaners, so it can easily be interpreted as racial targeting. I just think, personally, people are very vulnerable in those areas and they don't have a lot of help from the police.' In the last quarter of 2024, South African police recorded 12 murders on farms, including Black-owned smallholder plots, out of almost 7,000 murders across the country. Van Maltitz recalled young black farmers coming to his father to seek agricultural advice, saying it showed the value of South Africans working together. 'I love diversity, I love being around different people,' he said. Schalk van Heerden is a minister in the Dutch Reformed Church, the largest Afrikaans church. He joked that he was a 'missionary' within the DRC, which supported the apartheid regime. Van Heerden co-founded Betereinders in 2017 to bring about 50 to 100 Afrikaners to monthly brais (barbecues) with up to 200 black people in townships, where most black South Africans still live. Betereinders means 'better-enders' and is a pun on 'bittereinders' ('bitter-enders'), Afrikaners who refused to surrender to the British when their side lost the Boer war. When Trump introduced the refugee scheme for Afrikaners, Beterenders put up 10 billboards around Johannesburg and Pretoria saying, 'Not USA. You, SA.' Van Heerden said: 'We want to be proud about who we are … [But] we are not the big victims in this story. We are privileged, we are very grateful and we are thankful for everything we have.'
Mail & Guardian
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Mail & Guardian
Acts of resistance: The Market Theatre's enduring power 49 years on
John Kani in Nothing But The Truth. (Photo supplied) Johannesburg is a city where the pavements speak, if you listen close enough — stories beneath tar, between bricks and rising in spaces that have defied silence. Among these sacred spaces is a building that once bustled with the rhythms of trade: fruit piled high, hands exchanging change, spices scenting the air. But beneath that everyday chaos, something deeper was always stirring because the building that housed Johannesburg's Indian Fruit Market would become one of South Africa's most radical, revolutionary cultural sites — The Market Theatre. Today, 49 years after that transformation, the Market Theatre still stands. Not just as a venue but as a living archive of resistance, artistry and the unwavering human urge to speak truth to power. It is no accident that The Market Theatre was born in 1976, a year that ripped off the apartheid regime's mask of control. On 16 June 1976, thousands of students across the country rose in peaceful protest against the forced use of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in black schools. What followed was state violence that left hundreds, possibly even thousands, dead. That year became etched in our bones. Just three days later, on 19 June 1976, Mannie Manim and the late, legendary Barney Simon founded The Market Theatre inside the very structure built in 1913 for the Indian Fruit Market. It was prophetic timing. As the streets burned with rage and sorrow, this theatre opened as a space of artistic defiance, where the suppressed stories of black South Africans could breathe. The theatre's existence challenged apartheid laws — multi-racial casts performed for integrated audiences in defiance of segregation. It was a rebellion with stage lights and scripts. It was activism in performance. Woza Albert!; Asinamali; Sophiatown; Bopha; You Strike the Woman, You Strike a Rock; Born in the RSA; Black Dog — Inj'emnyama — these were not just plays. They were urgent dispatches from the ground. They were history spoken aloud. They allowed those denied the right to speak to roar. These productions turned The Market into the Theatre of the Struggle. They gave South Africans a mirror in which to see, not only the wounds inflicted by oppression, but the resilience of spirit fighting back. Every ticket stub from that era is an artefact of courage. Few artists have walked the Market's boards as long or as faithfully as Paul Slabolepszy — one of South Africa's most prolific playwrights. In his words, we hear the heartbeat of what this theatre means to those who have shaped it. 'I still get a thrill every time I walk into the foyer of the Market Theatre. Those that have gone before us still 'people' that space. I feel the presence of the storytellers … who took on a regime that sought to divide us and stifle the truth.' He remembers knocking down actual walls in the theatre's earliest days, under Barney Simon's direction, as part of a performance about young prisoners. Asinamali, June 2013. (Photo supplied) 'When that wall went down,' he says, 'the area was transformed to become the theatre laundry.' That story is a metaphor for what The Market has always done — breaking down barriers to build something bigger than bricks. It is also a place of mentorship and generational exchange. 'Barney Simon gave me the courage to write,' Slabolepszy adds. 'Today, 49 years and 38 plays later, I am still writing, still learning.' He remembers sitting in the Market's bar talking to the late Matsemela Manaka about theatre and life. 'He was a sage who left us too soon,' he says. But like all great sages, Manaka's spirit remains in the walls, in the words, in the vision still unfolding. The Market is not just about history. It is about the present and the imagination of what comes next. Artistic director Greg Homann sees the space not only as a stage but as a vessel of legacy and creativity. 'At 49 we acknowledge the fearless storytelling, rebellious spirit, and theatrical magic that has always been at our heart. 'On The Market's birthday, we honour the generations of artists, audiences and activists who have shaped us into a powerful space for truth, transformation and imagination. 'Here's to the legacy we carry — and the future we continue to create. Here's to the journey, the people, and the powerful stories still to come.' Homann's words are both reflection and rallying cry. They invite new voices into the fold while acknowledging the generations whose sacrifices made this platform possible. The Butcher Brothers, August 2010. (File photo) John Kani, a man whose artistry helped define this space, has chosen to save his reflections for the 50th anniversary. But even in his restraint, there is immense respect. 'You are one year early … Congratulations to The Market Theatre for 49 years of their incredible impact! They have proved that art can make change within a society.' And that, really, is what The Market Theatre is about — change. Not just political but personal. Not just in content but in consciousness. It teaches us what it means to be human. As Slabolepszy puts it, 'Theatre — live storytelling — transforms and enriches our lives and enables us to celebrate in our common humanity.' So when a young actor walks onto that stage today, they walk among the ghosts — Barney, Matsemela, Ramolao Makhene. And when the audience leans in, they do so not just to be entertained but to be reminded of the country's heart, its pain and its possibility. At 49, The Market Theatre is not aging. It is evolving. It continues to 'feed audiences hungry for connection', as Slabolepszy says. It continues to tell stories that refuse to be sanitised. It is still 'the newspaper of our lives', chronicling the uncomfortable, the beautiful and the necessary. And so we celebrate. Not just a birthday but a legacy. A movement. A sacred space that has held our laughter, our grief, our questions, our dreams. Here's to the next act. Here's to the storytellers still to come. Here's to The Market Theatre — always rising, telling it like it is.
Al Jazeera
a day ago
- Al Jazeera
‘Waited for 40 years': South Africa's Cradock Four families want justice
Johannesburg, South Africa – On the night of June 27, 1985 in South Africa, four Black men were travelling together in a car from the southeastern city of Port Elizabeth, now Gqeberha, to Cradock. They had just finished doing community organising work on the outskirts of the city when apartheid police officials stopped them at a roadblock. The four – teachers Fort Calata, 29, and Matthew Goniwe, 38; school principal Sicelo Mhlauli, 36; and railway worker Sparrow Mkonto, 34 – were abducted and tortured. Later, their bodies were found dumped in different parts of the city – they had been badly beaten, stabbed and burned. The police and apartheid government initially denied any involvement in the killings. However, it was known that the men were being surveilled for their activism against the gruelling conditions facing Black South Africans at the time. Soon after, evidence of a death warrant that had been issued for some members of the group was anonymously leaked, and later, it emerged that their killings had long been planned. Though there were two inquests into the murders – both under the apartheid regime in 1987 and 1993 – neither resulted in any perpetrator being named or charged. 'The first inquest was conducted entirely in Afrikaans,' Lukhanyo Calata, Ford Calata's son, told Al Jazeera earlier this month. 'My mother and the other mothers were never offered any opportunity in any way whatsoever to make statements in that,' the 43-year-old lamented. 'These were courts in apartheid South Africa. It was a completely different time where it was clear that four people were murdered, but the courts said no one could be blamed for that.' Soon after apartheid ended in 1994, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was set up. There, hearings confirmed the 'Cradock Four' were indeed targeted for their political activism. Although a few former apartheid officers confessed to being involved, they would not disclose the details and were denied amnesty. Now, four decades after the killings, a new inquest has begun. Although justice has never seemed closer, for families of the deceased, it has been a long wait. 'For 40 years, we've waited for justice,' Lukhanyo told local media this week. 'We hope this process will finally expose who gave the orders, who carried them out, and why,' he said outside the court in Gqeberha, where the hearings are taking place. As a South African journalist, it's almost impossible to cover the inquiry without thinking about the extent of crimes committed during apartheid – crimes by a regime so committed to propping up its criminal, racist agenda that it took it to its most violent and deadly end. There are many more stories like Calata's, many more victims like the Cradock Four, and many more families still waiting to hear the truth of what happened to their loved ones. Known victims Attending the court proceedings in Gqeberha and watching the families reminded me of Nokhutula Simelane. More than 10 years ago, I travelled to Bethal in the Mpumalanga province to speak with her family about her disappearance in 1983. Simelane joined Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK), which was the armed wing of the African National Congress (ANC) – the liberation movement turned majority ruling party in South Africa. As an MK operative, she worked as a courier taking messages and parcels between South Africa and what was then Swaziland. Simelane was lured to a meeting in Johannesburg and it was from there that she was kidnapped and held in police custody, tortured and disappeared. Her family says they still feel the pain of not being able to bury her. At the TRC, five white men from what was the special branch of the apartheid police, applied for amnesty related to Simelane's abduction and presumed murder. Former police commander Willem Coetzee, who headed the security police unit, denied ordering her killing. But that was countered by testimony from his colleague that she was brutally murdered and buried somewhere in what is now the North West province. Coetzee previously said Simelane was turned into an informant and was sent back to Swaziland. Until now, no one has taken responsibility for her disappearance – not the apartheid security forces nor the ANC. The case of the Cradock Four also made me think of anti-apartheid activist and South African Communist Party member, Ahmed Timol, who was tortured and killed in 1971 but whose murder was also covered up. Apartheid police said the 29-year-old teacher fell out of a 10th-floor window at the notorious John Vorster Square police headquarters in Johannesburg, where he was being held. An inquest the following year concluded he had died by suicide, at a time when the apartheid government was known for its lies and cover-ups. Decades later, a second inquest under the democratic government in 2018 found that Timol had been so badly tortured in custody that he would never have been able to jump out of a window. It was only then that former security branch officer Joao Rodrigues was formally charged with Timol's murder. The elderly Rodrigues rejected the charges and applied for a permanent stay of prosecution, saying he would not receive a fair trial because he was unable to properly recall events at the time of Timol's death, given the number of years that have passed. Rodrigues died in 2021. 'A crime against his humanity' Apartheid was brutal. And for the people left behind, unresolved trauma and unanswered questions are the salt in the deep wounds that remain. Which is why families like those of the Cradock Four are still at the courts, seeking answers. In her testimony before the court this month, 73-year-old Nombuyiselo Mhlauli, wife of Sicelo Mhlauli, described the state of her husband's body when she received his remains for burial. He had more than 25 stab wounds in the chest, seven in the back, a gash across his throat and a missing right hand, she said. I spoke to Lukhanyo a day before he returned to court to continue his testimony in the hearing for his father's killing. He talked about how emotionally draining the process had been – yet vital. He also spoke about his work as a journalist, growing up without a father, and the impact it's had on his life and outlook. 'There were crimes committed against our humanity. If you look at the state in which my father's body was found, that was a clear crime against his humanity, completely,' Lukhanyo testified on the sixth day of the inquest. But his frustration and anger do not end with the apartheid government. He holds the ANC, which has been in power since the end of apartheid, partly responsible for taking too long to adequately address these crimes. Lukhanyo believes the ANC betrayed the Cradock Four, and this betrayal 'cut the deepest'. 'Today we are sitting with a society that is completely lawless,' he said in court. '[This is] because at the start of this democracy, we did not put in the proper processes to tell the rest of society that you will be held accountable for things that you have done wrong.' Fort Calata's grandfather, the Reverend Canon James Arthur Calata, was the secretary-general of the ANC from 1939 to 1949. The Calata family has a long history with the liberation movement, which makes it all the more difficult for someone like Lukhanyo to understand why it's taken the party so long to deliver justice. Seeking accountability and peace The office of South Africa's Minister of Justice and Constitutional Development, Mmamoloko Kubayi, says the department has intensified its efforts to deliver long-awaited justice and closure for families affected by apartheid-era atrocities. 'These efforts signal a renewed commitment to restorative justice and national healing,' the department said in a statement. The murders of the Cradock Four, Simelane and Timol are among the horrors and stories we know about. But I often wonder about all the names, victims and testimonies that remain hidden or buried. The murders of countless mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters by the apartheid regime matter not only to those who cared for them but for the consciousness of South African society as a whole, no matter how normalised the tally of the dead has become. It's not clear how long this new inquest will take. It is expected to last several weeks, with former security police, political figures and forensic experts testifying. Initially, six police officers were implicated in the killings. They have all since died, but family members of the Cradock Four say senior officials who gave the orders should be held responsible. The state, however, is reluctant to pay the legal costs of apartheid police officers implicated in the murders, and that may slow down the process. Meanwhile, as the families wait for answers about what happened to their loved ones and accountability for those responsible, they are trying to make peace with the past. 'I've been on my own, trying to bring up children – fatherless children,' Nombuyiselo told Al Jazeera outside the court about the years since her husband Sicelo's death. 'The last 40 years have been very difficult for me – emotionally, and also spiritually.'
RNZ News
3 days ago
- Politics
- RNZ News
US attorney Kenneth Roth on 30 with Guyon Espiner
law conflict 29 minutes ago The man described as the Godfather of Human Rights, American attorney Kenneth Roth, has told RNZ that Israel's actions against the Palestinians are likely to meet the definitions of apartheid, genocide and war crimes. Guyon Espiner spoke to Ingrid Hipkiss.
