The Democratic Alliance’s announcement that it will seek to repeal South Africa’s Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) legislation marks a pivotal moment in the country’s political and economic trajectory. Framed as an effort to combat corruption and stimulate growth, the party’s proposal—to replace BEE with a colour-blind “Economic Inclusion for All” bill—has sparked fresh controversy within the already fragile Government of National Unity.
But behind the rhetoric of inclusion and efficiency lies a dangerous amnesia: a willingness to forget why BEE exists in the first place, and what is at stake should it be dismantled.
South Africa remains one of the most unequal societies in the world, with wealth, land, and access to opportunity still overwhelmingly concentrated in the hands of a historically advantaged minority. The roots of this inequality are not economic accidents but the direct outcome of deliberate, racialised policies under colonialism and apartheid. For nearly a century, black South Africans were excluded from owning land, denied access to quality education, barred from skilled jobs, and forcibly removed from economic centres. The legacy is not historical—it is structural, material, and lived.
BEE was never just an economic tool; it was a moral response to structural violence. It was a mechanism for reparative justice—a recognition that the transition to democracy was not a finish line, but a beginning. To conflate the challenges of implementing BEE with a failure of the policy’s core mission is to miss the nuance required in crafting long-term redress.
Critics of BEE often cite “tenderpreneurship”, fronting, and elite enrichment as evidence that the system is broken. Certainly, corruption has plagued many government procurement systems. However, to lay this solely at the feet of BEE is to misdiagnose the disease. Corruption thrives where governance is weak—not where justice is pursued. It is not BEE itself, but the lack of rigorous oversight, political will, and transparency that has allowed some to exploit empowerment for personal gain.
Calls for a “race-neutral” policy environment ignore a fundamental truth: South Africa’s economy is not, and has never been, neutral. A colour-blind approach in a society still shaped by racialised outcomes only serves to protect the status quo. The idea that the market will self-correct historic injustice without targeted intervention is not only naïve—it is dangerous. Without mechanisms to shift access to capital, ownership, and opportunity, inequality calcifies.
What is striking about the DA’s proposal is its erasure of the wider purpose of empowerment: the creation of a more just, inclusive, and equitable society. Empowerment, in the South African context, is not charity. It is the restoration of stolen dignity, agency, and visibility. It is about making the economy reflective of the country’s democratic promise—not merely more efficient in its inequalities.
Moreover, the framing of BEE as anti-investment is not supported by evidence. While South Africa’s growth has stagnated, the reasons are far more complex: energy insecurity, political instability, poor service delivery, global headwinds, and declining investor confidence in public governance play significant roles. The presence of empowerment legislation has not deterred capital where long-term returns are clear. In fact, several emerging market economies have implemented similarly redistributive policies without haemorrhaging investment. What investors seek is predictability, not perpetuation of past privilege.
There is, however, merit in revisiting how empowerment is enacted. South Africa does not need less transformation—it needs better transformation. That means shifting from narrow ownership targets and box-ticking exercises to community-based wealth building, skills development, and inclusive entrepreneurship. It means designing procurement systems that reward genuine impact—measured in local jobs, infrastructure development, and worker participation.
True economic empowerment must also reckon with geography. The legacy of spatial apartheid means that millions remain locked out of opportunity simply because of where they live. Restorative justice demands investment not only in individuals but in communities—in schools, roads, clinics, and broadband infrastructure that connect people to the economy.
Importantly, BEE must evolve in form without retreating in function. There is room for bold thinking. Rather than abandoning the framework, South Africa can introduce participatory budgeting in public procurement, create community equity schemes in mining and agriculture, and legislate for transparency in empowerment transactions. Civil society, business, and government must collaborate in reimagining transformation—not dismantling it.
Beyond South Africa’s borders, the debate speaks to a wider African conversation about the meaning of freedom in post-colonial states. Across the continent, nations are grappling with how to translate political liberation into economic inclusion. Policies like BEE represent a step toward redefining what growth means—away from GDP numbers and toward human dignity, agency, and self-determined development.
A pan-African approach challenges the Western framing that positions redistribution as a deviation from economic orthodoxy. In truth, it is the original economic architecture—rooted in racial capitalism and exclusion—that is the deviation. BEE, for all its imperfections, attempts to centre African realities in shaping an economic narrative that speaks to healing, repair, and future-making.
In this light, the DA’s bill does more than threaten a policy. It signals an ideological retreat—a return to the false comfort of colour-blind technocracy in a society still scarred by racialised wounds. To move forward as a nation, South Africa must resist the temptation to erase. Instead, it must confront, refine, and recommit to the unfinished business of economic justice.
If the future is to be shared, it must be built—not inherited. That requires courage—not only to admit where BEE has faltered, but to defend its vision: a South Africa where economic opportunity is not a privilege to be hoarded, but a right to be realised.
The country stands not at a crossroads, but at a reckoning.
Dr Hendrik van der Merwe is a political economist and senior columnist at The Southern African Times. Born in the Western Cape, he specialises in transitional justice and post-apartheid economic reform. With over two decades of academic and advisory experience across SADC, he writes on matters of restorative policy, governance, and social equity from a pan-Africanist lens.
