Everyone in South Africa – our planet’s designer raceless utopia - has called someone a racist one time or another. At this rate everybody will soon have been called a racist by someone somewhere. It’s supposed to be the ultimate debate-killer. When you call someone THAT, it should gag them in fits of shame and embarrassment. But this year some of our finest liberals, leaders, former Struggle heroes, democracy activists and non-racists have been nailed with this undesirable sobriquet.
Trevor Manuel, Minister in the Presidency,  called ANC Spokesman, Jimmy Manyi, a racists “in the mould of HF Verwoerd” no less.  But when they called Max du Preez (and Jacob Zuma, Julius Malema, David Bullard, Helen Zille, Darren Scott, Kuli Robberts) racist in 2011, I knew the ol’ insult had lost a lot of  its former punch.  Sure, we all blow off our prejudiced traps as often as possible, but Max Du Preez is about as black as white can be and his Struggle-cred is way beyond dispute.
Seems the last word on race debates have not been spoken. Yet. Either there are races or there are not. A Cape Town judge found in December 2011 that races do not exist. This is simply the left’s way of saying: everybody is equally guilty of everything. It is also the Anglo-multiculturists way of swallowing up other languages and cultures. And then there is the ANC’s ever-present  neo-Apartheid BEE charts: government policies based on skin colour. While many sit and ponder the existence of races, some still see it all in a new light.
There ARE races and they do (today to a lesser degree) and did (almost entirely) differ. It is the work of the multiculturist and the liberal to keep denying that, pathology springing from old colonial guilt as well as first-nation lack of contribution to the world stage of development. When you drop off a tiny patch of West (let’s call them white) on the most Darkest Continent off all (let’s call them black), you get the mother clash of civilizations, customs and ideas. You call them black and white for lack of more convenient generalization.
Every time I, per discussion, without exception, dare to differentiate between races in South Africa, I get called a racist. In fact, a raceeeeest piiiiig! But memories are short. Racial is discussing race, where racism is discriminating on the grounds that yours benefit at the cost of others. For the New South African multiculturist, the opinion that both are taboo, is today seriously challenged. Maybe races do not matter elsewhere, but reading the global Gini co-efficient, it seems quite clear that nowhere in the world the clash of civilizations, of classes, traditions, culture, ethos, behaviour and income are so clearly demarcated by skin colour as here in South Africa. It’s not caused by skin colour, off course. That would be racist. When most of us discuss race, skin color per se means zip. Our punishment for hanging on to such archaic stereotypes is that we solve nothing. Pretty much where we are at right now. Where we’ve been all along. Nowhere. Even in my circles I have to search hard and long to still find old rightwing patrons of biology and bloodlines. You have to be blind (and untraveled) to think there exists on earth a race, nation or tribe without the capacity to achieve anything. The question is not can they? They certainly can. The question is did they? (This can never be answered as today it is the Afrocentric prerogative to decide when exactly history started).

Still, groups arrive at the debating line with a different momentum. I always found that quite beautiful. The South African slogan is tolerant of that: Unity in Diversity. Someone got it. But in our neuroses to show the world how unified we are, the facade has killed off reality: we are merely the world’s guinea pig for multiculturism, and we have failed. Like most European nations we suddenly doubt the unification of our currencies and our intensions. And the openness of our borders. We fall for the propaganda and live in denial of who we are because of who we were. In South Africa many Afrikaners now believe that Afrikaners do not exist.

I have stopped crying racist every time I come across one. Because in that insult lies locked up an even harsher truth. By calling others racist, you are effectively asking: why don’t you need me like I need you. It must be realized, that racism may be wrong and evil, but it is always the non-envious position. Racist are saying there is nothing you have to offer that I need, thank you. Why do you want to be defined as that tribe that nobody needed or wanted to stand close to? I hate BEE policies, excluding people of my race and tribe, bullying minorities into silence, fracturing family units for transcontinental opportunities, forcing South Africa’s white youth outside the borders for posts they qualify for but can’t have for being persons of pallor. But my reaction to that is changing.

I come from a pioneering people, not a parasitic people. We are entrepreneurs, not beggars. We never looked at those who are superior to us in defiance. We learned from them and incorporated those lessons to strengthen us. When we were down and out, we did not steal or murder. We made a plan. Other nations grew in numbers and stature under our rule and somehow we managed all this from a minority handicap.
When I am systematically marginalized by these charts and chats, I do what people of my pallor and tribe have always done: I make do without.
’n Boer maak ’n plan.

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