

There is something deeply troubling about the way Black excellence is increasingly treated in our public discourse. Image: Supplied.
Education
The Criminalisation of Black Excellence: When success becomes a crime and scrutiny becomes selective
For decades, South Africans have been told that the path to empowerment lies in education, leadership, professional achievement and participation in the institutions that shape our society.
There is something deeply troubling about the way Black excellence is increasingly treated in our public discourse.
For decades, South Africans have been told that the path to empowerment lies in education, leadership, professional achievement and participation in the institutions that shape our society. We were told to enter the boardrooms, occupy positions of influence, build businesses, lead institutions and demonstrate that the barriers erected by apartheid could be overcome.
Yet when Black people actually rise, succeed and exercise influence, a familiar pattern often emerges: their achievements are subjected to extraordinary scrutiny, their decisions are interpreted through the most cynical lens possible, and ordinary institutional disagreements are elevated into scandals.
This is not an argument against accountability.
Accountability is essential. Public officials, executives, professionals and political leaders must answer legitimate questions about their conduct and the use of public resources. But accountability loses its moral authority when it becomes selective.
The problem begins when scrutiny is no longer about establishing facts, but about creating suspicion.
A decision becomes "controversial". A delegation becomes "wasteful". A professional relationship becomes "political". A legitimate programme becomes "questionable". A successful Black leader suddenly finds themselves expected to explain every decision in ways that others are rarely required to do.
That is where the concept of the criminalisation of Black excellence becomes important.
It describes a culture in which Black achievement is not always allowed to exist on its own terms. Instead, success is accompanied by an assumption that there must be something sinister behind it.
If a Black person occupies a senior position, questions are immediately raised about how they got there.
If they succeed, questions are raised about who benefited.
If they travel internationally, questions are raised about why.
If they build relationships with influential people, questions are raised about hidden agendas.
If they make ambitious decisions, they are accused of overreaching.
And if they defend themselves, that defence itself is sometimes presented as evidence that there must be something to hide.
This creates an impossible standard.
Black professionals are expected to be exceptional, but their excellence must constantly be accompanied by an explanation.
They must succeed, but not too visibly.
They must lead, but without appearing ambitious.
They must build networks, but must never be accused of benefiting from them.
They must participate in international platforms, but must somehow prove that every engagement has an immediately measurable financial return.
Meanwhile, the same society can be remarkably forgiving when similar questions arise around people who have historically occupied positions of privilege.
That is the hypocrisy that should concern us.
There is a difference between asking legitimate questions and constructing a narrative of wrongdoing before the facts have been established.
There is a difference between journalism and selective reporting.
There is a difference between political opposition and political character assassination.
There is a difference between accountability and the deliberate manufacture of suspicion.
And South Africa's media and political establishment should be mature enough to recognise that difference.
The danger of selective reporting is that context disappears.
A complex decision is reduced to one number. A multi-dimensional programme is reduced to a headline. A successful initiative is overshadowed by insinuations. The public is given enough information to become suspicious, but not necessarily enough information to understand what actually happened.
That is not accountability. That is narrative construction.
And when that narrative is disproportionately applied to Black leaders, it reinforces one of the oldest prejudices in our society: that Black advancement must somehow be explained as an exception, a favour, a conspiracy or a corrupt transaction.
We must reject that mentality.
Black people do not need to apologise for occupying spaces of influence.
Black leaders do not need to be permanently placed on trial for demonstrating ambition.
Black professionals should not have to prove their innocence every time they make an unconventional decision.
And Black excellence should not automatically become a political weapon.
This does not mean that Black leaders should be protected from criticism. Quite the opposite. The standard must be the same for everyone.
If there is evidence of wrongdoing, investigate it.
If there is evidence of corruption, prosecute it.
If public money has been improperly spent, hold those responsible accountable.
But if the evidence does not support the accusation, then the accusation must not become the story.
South Africa cannot claim to be serious about transformation while simultaneously creating an environment in which Black achievement is viewed with suspicion.
We cannot tell young Black people to aspire to leadership while showing them that leadership comes with a permanent presumption of guilt.
We cannot celebrate Black excellence on commemorative days and then participate in its destruction when Black people exercise real power.
The test of a democratic society is not whether powerful people are criticised.
The test is whether everyone is held to the same standard.
That is the principle we should defend.
Because the real threat is not criticism. The real threat is selective criticism masquerading as principle.
It is hypocrisy masquerading as accountability.
And it is the dangerous idea that when Black people rise, the first question should not be "What have they achieved?" but "What must be wrong?"
South Africa deserves better.
Black excellence deserves better.
And accountability itself deserves better than being reduced to a political instrument used selectively against those who happen to occupy positions of influence.
By Black Excellence Network RSA executive chairman











