South Africa’s been in the news recently, perhaps as much these past two weeks as in 1994. That was the year they exorcised racial demons and embraced democracy. The end of Apartheid, the beginning of Multiracial Utopia.
A glorious moment, right?
Sorry, no.
I didn’t think so then, and I don’t think so now. I didn’t know much in 1994, but I had instincts, and every instinct I had flashed red. Those poor whites will be butchered and chased out. It’s obvious. Rhodesia was the cautionary tale.
The propaganda was so strong that I briefly indulged optimism. Maybe South Africa was different. A year into Mandela’s presidency, fate scripted a near miracle when the Springboks beat the formidable All Blacks in the World Cup of Rugby, a most improbable outcome.
When Nelson Mandela donned the hallowed green jersey to present the trophy to Afrikaner Francois Pienaar, ecstasy was in the air. A country previously banned from the pitch had reached the pinnacle. It was transcendent, a moment to unite a nation. It surely prophesied a bright future for the Rainbow Nation.
It was a wonderful victory to be sure, but that’s all it was. No matter the gravity, the place in time, the feelings evoked, it made no guarantee on the future. And in the end, Mandela was only human. Yes, the terrorist-turned-politician survived captivity. Yes, he showed grace and humility (when he held the winning cards). In the end, he was no better than any other any other two-bit African dictator.
I wasn’t the only one whose instincts flashed red in ‘94. Whites began flooding out of South Africa immediately, a migration that came to be known as the Chicken Run. What, you scared of being tortured and slaughtered?
Estimates vary, but about a million whites have gotten outta dodge. I know a few myself, and none has regrets, except for family members left behind. More would leave if they could, but the government and circumstances make it impossible for most.
Afrikaners are a different breed, mind you. Tough men, hardened by land and war. Obdurate. Determined. And by a covenant with God, they know that the land is theirs. They were the first to claim it — not counting the Bushmen — and they will fight to the death to keep it. They truly are a remarkable people.
But is determination enough in a country that’s undergone an appalling descent since the start of black rule? Each year, things get uglier for South African whites. Each year, the noose tightens. Some call Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) the world’s most extreme affirmative action program — a tool to keep whites unemployed and prevent them from starting businesses, plus a trough for black bureaucrats.
Calls from the black ruling class for violence and land seizure are well documented. The EFF’s Julius Malema chants “Shoot the Boer” to packed arenas, and blacks in attendance enter a frenzied state. Go figure — a major political party actively promoting genocide.
And it works. For those brave enough to look, the horrors abound. Unspeakable acts. Elderly victims bound and tortured for hours. Young girls raped and gutted. Parents forced to watch. Hateful anti-white messages written in blood. Grizzly stuff.
This is not crime, as they’d have you believe. It’s state-sanctioned terror. Racially motivated. If it’s not literal genocide, it’s precursor to genocide. Not only is it tolerated, but it’s celebrated.
This brings us to the arrival of 59 refugees into America. Did I mention they were white? That monumental precedent triggered a fault line in fundamental leftist doctrine, which is predicated on anti-white hatred. White Man Bad is their anchor principle.
They melted down. They went full mask-off and bared raw anti-white hatred for all to see. For 59 people, a negligible number. But to concede that white refugees exist is to concede…almost everything. Even certain Christian churches piously cited moral opposition to resettling Afrikaners. My God, the rot is so deep. The enemy is everywhere.
This brings us to Cyril Ramaphosa’s visit to the White House, ostensibly to discuss trade and investment — in other words, ask for money. Trump had other plans. He called out the African dictator on live television, as only Trump can. “Turn the lights down,” he said, as Ramaphosa giggled like a nervous schoolboy. It was glorious. Only Trump has the cojones to hold another world leader’s feet to the fire so magnificently.
In the process, white genocide was acknowledged. It was blasphemy to leftist media. The plight of white South Africans is not to be brought up in polite company. Certainly not in the press. Predictably, they went into overdrive, aggressively running cover — diverting, denying, obfuscating.
There is no genocide, we were told. Sorry, not enough atrocities. Not enough killing. They harped on semantics. They split hairs on terminology. Headlines repeated the catchphrases: Baseless Claims. Unproven Claims. False Claims.
The humiliated South African government were furious. But they’re in an awkward spot when it comes to whites. They obviously despise whites, but without them, they have no tax base. They have no country. They’ve shown time and again that without whites, infrastructure crumbles and food supply vanishes. Without whites, South Africa’s journey to third-world status, already well underway, becomes complete.
Thank God Trump has shone light on the sordid business of South Africa, but none of this is new. I covered it at length in my 2019 epic Never, Never and Never Again — the title borrowed from Mandela’s now-laughable statement, made during his inaugural address: “Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land will again experience the oppression of one by another.”
Yes, my instincts in 1994 were right. Rhodesia all over again. Was there ever a doubt? There was never a Rainbow Nation. It was a fairy tale. Fluffy egalitarianism exists only in first-world bubbles. Race realism rules the day in prisons, jungles, and countries like South Africa.
What will become of the white South African? people ask with morbid curiosity. When the lights go out for good? When starvation, chaos, and violence run rampant? What then?
I see two paths: 1. A homeland within or 2. Get the hell out. Both are messy, but both have a toehold. With Option 1, the Orania template — an Afrikaner state — is thriving and growing. With Option 2, Trump has cracked the door open.
Either way, I pray for the whites of South Africa. I also pray that the strife they face is not our own destiny in the years to come.
K.M. Breakey is the author of Britain on the Brink and seven other novels. He can be reached at km @ kmbreakey.com.
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