American president Donald Trump has issued an executive order to withdraw aid from South Africa. He was reacting to what he has called the South African government’s plan to “seize ethnic minority Afrikaners’ agricultural property without compensation”. Afrikaners are an ethnic and linguistic community of white South Africans whose home language is Afrikaans.
Trump’s outrage is based on a misinterpretation of a new law – the Expropriation Act which came into effect in January 2025.
Trump’s action, amplified by provocative comments from billionaire Elon Musk, has reignited debate about the concept of “white victimhood”. We asked Nicky Falkof, who has researched the idea of white victimhood, for her insights.
What does ‘white victimhood’ mean?
White victimhood refers to a powerful set of beliefs that treats white people as special and different, but also as uniquely at risk. Within this narrative white people see themselves, and are sometimes seen by others, as extraordinary victims, whose exposure to violence or vulnerability is more concerning and important than anyone else’s.
White victimhood is usually speculative. It relates not to actual events that have happened, but to white people’s feelings of being threatened or unsafe. Entire political agendas develop around the idea that white people must be protected because they face exceptional threats, which are not being taken seriously by a contemporary world order that fails to value whiteness.
This is by no means particular to South Africa; we see it wherever whiteness is predominant. Indeed, ideas about white victimhood play a significant role in the popularity of Trump, whose call to “make America great again” harks back to an idealised past where white people (particularly men) could easily dominate the nation, the workplace and the home.
The South African case is important because it plays a central role in global white supremacist claims. These mythologies claim that white South Africans, specifically Afrikaners, are the canary in the coalmine: that the alleged oppression they are facing is a blueprint for what will happen to all white people if they don’t “fight back”.
What is its history?
We can trace this idea back to the start of the colonial project. In 1660 Dutch East India Company administrator Jan van Riebeeck planted a hedge of bitter almond shrubs to separate his trading station from the rest of South Africa’s Cape. This hedge was part of a defensive barrier intended to keep indigenous people out of the Dutch trading post, which had been built on top of ancient Khoikhoi grazing routes.
On a practical level, van Riebeeck’s hedge was meant to shield Dutch settlers and livestock from Khoikhoi raiders. On a philosophical level, the hedge situated the invaders as the “real” victims, who desperately needed protection from the violence and wildness of Africa. The bitter almond hedge is still seen as an enduring symbol of white supremacy in the country.
This early paranoia and securitisation has had a significant effect on white South African culture and anxiety. White people who can afford to do so barricade themselves in gated communities and boomed-off suburban streets, behind high walls topped with razor wire, on the assumption that they are the primary victims of South Africa’s crime rate.
In what ways has victimhood been used over the centuries or decades?
Ideas about white victimhood have played a role in many of South Africa’s most influential social formations.
The 1930s saw a major panic around “poor whites”, which led to commissions of inquiry, upliftment programmes and other attempts at social engineering. The people and institutions behind these initiatives weren’t concerned about poverty in South Africa in general, even though it was becoming more of a problem as the population urbanised. Their only interest was in poverty among white people, drawing on the assumption that it’s wrong or abnormal for white people to be poor, and that this needed to be urgently remedied.
These moves were not simply about philanthropy and offering better life chances to poor people; they were about protecting the boundaries of whiteness. Poor whites were seen as a threat to the establishment because they proved that whiteness wasn’t inherently superior.
More recently, the victimhood narrative has been a central part of the panic around farm murders and claims of “white genocide”, an old idea that has been popularised and spread online.
Rural violence is a huge problem in South Africa that deserves a strong response. But white people are far from its only casualties. Indeed, violent crime affects pretty much everyone in South Africa. When the deaths of white people are explained as part of a targeted genocide undertaken on the basis of race, the message is that they matter more than the deaths of everyone else.
Again, this suggests a kind of naturalisation of violence and harm. When terrible things happen to other people they simply happen and are not remarked on. It’s only when white people are affected that they become a pressing issue.
Has it helped white South Africans? Has it been effective as a mobilising tool?
White victimhood, like the racial anxiety it is part of, is not good for white people. It doesn’t keep them safer or help them to live better lives.
That said, it’s been quite effective as a mobilising tool. The apartheid-era National Party was skilled at using white fear for political gain. Its communications constantly played on white fears of the swart gevaar, the “black danger”, which encapsulated the powerful belief that whites were more at risk from black people than vice versa, despite all evidence to the contrary.
Similarly, contemporary organisations like the Afrikaner “minority rights” pressure group AfriForum and the Afrikaans trade union Solidarity activate and manipulate white people’s senses of extraordinary victimhood. This drives them further into a defensive position, where everything from farm murders and road name changes to the National Health Insurance bill is designed to attack them personally.
White support for these kinds of organisations and the political positions they espouse, whether overtly or covertly, is at least in part driven by the effective manipulation of white victimhood.
How effective is it still?
It remains disturbingly powerful. The architecture of white supremacy depends on the idea that white people are extraordinary victims. This is the driving notion beneath the great replacement theory, a far-right conspiracy theory claiming that Jews and non-white foreigners are plotting to “replace” whites. It also underpins violent reactions to the global migration crisis and the rise of populism in the north.
I don’t think it’s going too far to say that whiteness as a social construction is intrinsically tied to victimhood. The idea that whiteness actually makes people more rather than less vulnerable is likely to remain a central part of white people’s collective psychic imaginary for some time.
Nicky Falkof, Professor, University of the Witwatersrand
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
