On March 7, 2025, U.S. President Donald Trump made headlines by announcing an executive order that halts all federal funding to South Africa while simultaneously offering a “rapid pathway” to citizenship for South African farmers seeking asylum. This dramatic shift in policy stems from Trump’s vocal criticism of the South African government’s treatment of its White minority, particularly its farmers, amid a backdrop of escalating racial tensions and legislative overreach. While the move has sparked both praise and outrage, it shines a long-overdue spotlight on a crisis that much of the world has shamefully ignored: the persecution of South Africa’s White farmers and the government’s complicity in fostering an environment of racial hostility.
The Expropriation Act: Legalized Theft
Trump’s decision to cut aid was catalyzed by the South African government’s enactment of the Expropriation Act in January 2025, a law that allows the state to seize land without compensation under certain conditions. Officially, it’s framed as a corrective measure to address apartheid-era land disparities, where Black South Africans, who make up over 80% of the population, own just 4% of private land. But in practice, it’s a blunt instrument wielded against White farmers, many of whom have worked their family lands for generations. Trump, alongside figures like Elon Musk, has decried this as blatant discrimination, accusing Pretoria of “confiscating” property and driving farmers into ruin.
The South African government’s defense—that this is about justice, not race—rings hollow when you consider the context. The ANC has spent years demonizing White farmers as the embodiment of colonial privilege, ignoring the fact that many are not wealthy oligarchs but hardworking families whose ancestors settled the land centuries ago. The Expropriation Act isn’t just about redistributing wealth; it’s a political cudgel designed to appease a restless electorate while punishing a scapegoated minority. And when paired with the tacit endorsement of “Kill the Boer,” it’s a one-two punch that signals to White farmers: you’re not safe here, and your government doesn’t care.
A Government That Sanctions Hate
The South African government’s refusal to unequivocally condemn—or even mildly censure—the song “Kill the Boer, Kill the Farmer” is evidence enough that White farmers are being persecuted. This chilling anthem, which originated in the anti-apartheid struggle, is still being used as a modern rallying cry that explicitly calls for violence against White farmers, most of whom identify as Boers. In a nation with a history of racial division, protecting such a song as free speech is not just reckless—it’s an incitement to genocide. Yet, the ruling African National Congress (ANC) and its allies have shrugged off international criticism, cloaking their inaction in the guise of cultural expression. Courts have upheld its legality, and politicians like Julius Malema of the Economic Freedom Fighters have belted it out at rallies with impunity, stoking the flames of hatred against a vulnerable minority.
The numbers tell a grim story. Since the end of apartheid in 1994, thousands of White farmers have been murdered in brutal attacks—often tortured, raped, or mutilated in ways that defy human comprehension. The government’s own statistics are murky, but independent estimates suggest that a disproportionate number of these attacks are targeting White landowners. These are not random crimes; they are targeted, racially charged assaults, often accompanied by the theft of land or livestock but driven by a deeper animus. Meanwhile, the ANC’s response has been a masterclass in denialism—dismissing the crisis as exaggerated or blaming the victims for their own plight.
A World That Looks Away
Perhaps the most infuriating aspect of this tragedy is the global silence. Where are the human rights crusaders who once rallied against apartheid? Where are the sanctimonious leaders who flood social media with hashtags when injustice strikes elsewhere? The persecution of South Africa’s White population—roughly 7% of the overall population—has been met with a collective shrug from the international community. Western governments, eager to avoid accusations of meddling or racism, have tip-toed around the issue, issuing tepid statements while funneling millions in aid to a regime that turns a blind eye to racial violence. In 2023 alone, the U.S. sent $440 million to South Africa, much of it for health programs, while Pretoria dithered on protecting its own citizens.
This hypocrisy is staggering. The world once united to pressure South Africa into dismantling apartheid. Yet today, as a White minority faces targeted killings and land grabs, the same moral outrage is conspicuously absent. It’s as if the pendulum has swung too far, and any acknowledgment of White suffering is deemed politically inconvenient. Trump’s move, however polarizing, at least forces the conversation—one that Pretoria and its allies would rather bury.
Why Farmers Stay
For many white farmers, leaving South Africa isn’t just a logistical challenge; it’s a gut-wrenching betrayal of their heritage. These are families who have tilled the soil for generations, some tracing their roots back to the 17th century when Dutch settlers first arrived. Their farms aren’t just businesses—they’re homes, legacies, and testaments to resilience in a harsh landscape. To abandon them is to surrender not just to violence, but to a government that seems hell-bent on erasing their existence.
Yet staying is increasingly untenable. Beyond the physical danger—farm attacks rose by 15% in 2024 alone, according to unofficial tallies—the psychological toll is crushing. Farmers live in a state of siege, fortifying their homes with barbed wire and armed patrols, knowing the police are often slow to respond, if they show up at all. The government’s refusal to classify farm murders as a priority crime only deepens their despair. For those who can’t or won’t leave, it’s a daily gamble with their lives.
A Better Way Forward: Global Pressure, Not Abandonment
Trump’s offer of asylum is a lifeline for some, but it’s not a solution. Uprooting thousands of farmers to the U.S. might save lives, but it also hands Pretoria a victory—cleansing the country of a group it’s long vilified. A far better approach would be to leverage international pressure to force South Africa’s corrupt regime to change course. The end of apartheid proved that concerted global action—sanctions, boycotts, and diplomatic isolation—can topple even the most entrenched systems. Why wouldn’t it work now?
Imagine if the U.S., EU, and other powers conditioned aid and trade on measurable reforms: dismantling the Expropriation Act, cracking down on farm attacks, and outlawing incitement to genocide, like “Kill the Boer.” South Africa’s economy, already fragile, relies heavily on foreign investment and exports. A unified front could compel the ANC to prioritize safety and legal equality over populist land grabs. It worked in the 1980s and ’90s to drastically change the government of South Africa; it could work again to protect a persecuted minority from a government that’s lost its moral compass.
A Wake-Up Call
Trump’s decision to cut aid and offer asylum is a blunt instrument, but it’s a wake-up call the world desperately needs. South Africa’s White farmers are not just casualties of a local power struggle—they’re symbols of a broader failure to confront racial injustice when it’s politically inconvenient. The ANC’s corruption, its flirtation with genocidal rhetoric, and its assault on property rights demand a reckoning. Farmers shouldn’t have to flee their homeland to survive, nor should the U.S. bear the burden of their rescue alone. It’s time for the world to stop averting its eyes and start holding South Africa accountable—before the White crosses marking murdered farmers multiply beyond counting.