Trump suggests land justice for Black South Africans is a threat, but US land seizures benefiting white populations – past, present and future – are all necessary and just.
In an all-too-familiar display of ignorance, United States President Donald Trump recently denounced South Africa’s new Expropriation Act, falsely framing it as a racially driven attack on the white minority. His remarks, steeped in misinformation, echo the rhetoric of far-right groups that have long sought to delegitimise South Africa’s efforts to correct centuries of land dispossession.
While Trump is well within his rights to withhold US aid – money South Africa neither relies upon nor seeks – he has no business interfering in a sovereign nation’s attempt to address historical injustice. His inflammatory comments are not just misguided; they are dangerous. South Africa, a country that emerged from the brutal system of apartheid only 30 years ago, remains deeply scarred by racial and economic inequality. The land question is at the heart of these unresolved wounds, and reckless statements from the US president risk inflaming tensions in a society still striving for justice.
But perhaps the greatest irony of all is that the US itself has expropriation laws under its Fifth Amendment. The notion that land can be taken for public good, with or without compensation, is not new – it is foundational to US property law. So why, then, does Trump feign outrage when South Africa follows a similar path?
This irony pales in comparison to Trump’s remarks about “taking over” Gaza and making it “ours” after Israel’s mass destruction and genocide in Palestine. Expropriating land within one’s borders is one thing; ethnic cleansing and annexing foreign land is hypocrisy and moral corruption at an unimaginable level.
To grasp why land reform is necessary, one must confront an uncomfortable truth: South Africa’s land was stolen. From colonial conquest to apartheid-era forced removals, Black South Africans were systematically dispossessed and relegated to overcrowded, barren “homelands”. The 1913 and 1936 Land Acts codified this theft, reserving 87 percent of the land for the white minority and leaving the Black majority crammed into just 13 percent of the country.
This is not ancient history. The consequences of these laws remain deeply entrenched. Today, despite making up 80 percent of the population, Black South Africans own only a fraction of agricultural land, while white landowners – less than 8 percent of the population – still control the vast majority. The result? About 64 percent of Black South Africans remain landless, and millions live in informal settlements or overcrowded townships.
Successive post-apartheid governments have attempted to redress this injustice, but progress has been painfully slow. The “willing-buyer, willing-seller” model, introduced in the 1990s, placed the financial burden on the state to buy land at market rates. This approach, while politically cautious, has failed: land redistribution targets remain unmet, and economic disparities continue to widen.
The Expropriation Act seeks to change that. It provides a legal framework for land to be expropriated in specific cases, including instances where the land is abandoned, unused, or it was acquired through past racial privilege. Compensation – when required – is determined by considering factors such as historical acquisition, state subsidies, and public interest. In some cases, this means land can be taken without compensation.
This is not an attack on white farmers. It is a necessary step towards restoring dignity and economic agency to the millions who were stripped of both.
Trump’s comments did not emerge in a vacuum. They align closely with the narrative pushed by white nationalist groups in South Africa – organisations that have long sought to portray land reform as an existential threat to white landowners. The “white genocide” myth, which falsely claims that white South Africans are being systematically targeted, has been thoroughly debunked. Yet it continues to resurface in right-wing circles, amplified by figures like Trump who thrive on stoking racial grievances.
The facts tell a different story. There is no widespread campaign to seize land arbitrarily, nor is the government engaged in racial persecution. The Expropriation Act does not grant the state unchecked power – it simply aligns South Africa’s land reform strategy with constitutional principles of justice and equity.
But beyond the inaccuracy of his claims, Trump’s interference is dangerous. South Africa is still navigating its postcolonial identity, balancing reconciliation with restitution. Foreign leaders who recklessly insert themselves into this process – particularly those with no understanding of the country’s history – risk derailing genuine progress.
Perhaps the most glaring contradiction in Trump’s stance is the fact that the US itself has expropriation laws. The Fifth Amendment of the US Constitution allows for the government to seize private property for public use, provided that “just compensation” is offered. What constitutes “just” is often debated – just as it is in South Africa.
In fact, US history is rife with examples of land seizures that were far more aggressive than anything proposed in South Africa. Indigenous lands were taken without compensation under the guise of expansionism. Entire communities – particularly poor and Black neighbourhoods – have been bulldozed through eminent domain laws in the name of urban development. If the US sees no contradiction in using expropriation for its own interests, why is South Africa vilified for doing the same?
The answer is simple: land justice for Black South Africans is treated as a threat, while land seizures that have historically benefitted white populations are normalised.
Beyond its historical necessity, land redistribution is crucial for South Africa’s economic future. Without land, millions of Black South Africans remain locked out of economic opportunities. The ability to farm, build homes, or access credit is directly tied to land ownership. Yet, under the current system, the wealth of the country remains concentrated in the hands of a few.
The economic argument against land reform – that it will scare away investors or destabilise the agricultural sector – is a smokescreen. Countries that have successfully implemented land reform, such as South Korea and Japan, have demonstrated that redistribution, when done strategically, fosters economic growth. The real danger lies not in expropriation, but in maintaining the status quo – where land is hoarded by a small elite while millions remain landless.
Trump may threaten to cut US aid, but South Africa’s land policies are not up for foreign negotiation. The country’s hard-won sovereignty cannot be dictated by a US president whose track record on racial justice is abysmal.
Land expropriation is not theft. It is not an attack on white South Africans. It is the long-overdue correction of a historical crime that robbed Black South Africans of their land, their dignity, and their economic future. Trump’s comments are a reminder that the battle for justice will always be met with resistance – but South Africa’s path to restitution will not be determined by outsiders.
South Africans will decide South Africa’s future.