Elon Musk’s recent Nazi-like salute at a Trump rally only adds to the concerns about his ideological leanings. While Musk attempted to downplay the gesture, the symbolism was immediately recognised. Picture: Mike Segar/Reuters
By Siyabonga Hadebe
THE Trump administration’s political waltzing should not be taken lightly as they seem hellbent on resurrecting apartheid-era ideologies. The resurgence of racist policies directed at South Africa is a calculated import of beliefs once thought to have been buried in history.
In an executive order specially prepared for apartheid victims, Donald Trump has accused South Africa of human rights violations against white farmers, escalating tensions as the US freezes aid to the country.
The order states that the US “cannot support the government of South Africa’s commission of rights violations in its country” and will not provide aid or assistance as long as these “unjust and immoral practices” continue. The executive order also references South Africa’s role in bringing accusations of genocide against Israel before the International Court of Justice.
Israel was apartheid South Africa’s inseparable partner in a military cooperation that killed both black South Africans and Palestinians alike, under Washington’s watch.
The order further states: “In addition, South Africa has taken aggressive positions towards the United States and its allies, including accusing Israel, not Hamas, of genocide in the ICJ, and reinvigorating its relations with Iran to develop commercial, military, and nuclear arrangements.”
Trump is eager to turn South Africa into a vassal state he would control. In addition, the US president’s executive order provides resettlement for Afrikaners “who are victims of unjust racial discrimination”. The aim is to water down apartheid crimes that the US and its corporations once abetted, positioning former beneficiaries of the regime as new victims.
Chris McGreal’s article in The Guardian (26 Jan 2025), How the roots of the ‘PayPal mafia’ extend to apartheid South Africa, is a telling exposé of how figures shaped under the racial hierarchies of apartheid have come to dominate key political and economic spheres in the US.
The so-called PayPal mafia—a group of tech moguls instrumental in founding PayPal—has deep connections to South Africa’s apartheid past. McGreal’s PayPal mafia members include Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, David Sacks and Roelof Botha.
These men spent their formative years in a system where racial supremacy was the law of the land. Their rise in Silicon Valley and their increasing influence in US policymaking reveal an unsettling continuity between apartheid-era ideology and the structural inequities being reinforced in contemporary US governance. Trump’s former advisor Steve Bannon complained why South Africans are at the helm of the US since they are “the most racist people on earth”.
Trump’s close advisor Musk, a notable figure among them, has been widely criticised for his role in reshaping public discourse and digital platforms in ways that empower right-wing ideologies. His policies at X (formerly Twitter) have facilitated the spread of disinformation and extremist rhetoric, reinforcing systemic racial and economic disparities.
For example, Musk asked on X why President Cyril Ramaphosa had “openly racist ownership laws”. This mini-Hitler statue appears to use broken mirrors to beautify his disfigured image and racial inclinations.
Peter Thiel, Musk’s PayPal cofounder, was born in Germany but raised in South Africa and then South West Africa (now Namibia), where he attended a German school in Swakopmund, a city notorious for its lingering Nazi sympathies. In 1976, The New York Times reported that some residents of the town still greeted each other with “Heil Hitler” and the Nazi salute.
In his biography The Contrarian, Thiel argued that apartheid was “economically sound”. David Sacks, born in Cape Town and now Trump’s AI and crypto czar, grew up in Tennessee’s white South African diaspora. Roelof Botha, the grandson of Pik Botha—apartheid South Africa’s foreign minister—maintains close ties with Musk.
McGreal argues that these men, bound by their South African roots, are now shaping US policy in ways that bear an eerie resemblance to apartheid-era governance. Their rise to power is not an accident; it is the product of a well-established network of influence that has survived beyond apartheid’s official demise.
The Trump administration’s embrace of these figures is not just a matter of political convenience but signals an intentional alignment with a worldview steeped in racial stratification.
Musk’s upbringing is emblematic of this historical continuity. His father, Errol Musk, made his fortune through emerald mining in Zambia, a business notorious for exploitative labour conditions. Musk’s grandfather, Joshua Haldeman, was a Canadian technocrat with neo-Nazi sympathies who moved to apartheid South Africa in the 1950s because he admired the regime’s racial policies.
The Musk family’s wealth and social standing were directly tied to these structures of racial supremacy in South Africa.
The resurgence of apartheid-era thinking in US politics is further evident in the Trump administration’s policy decisions. The executive order offering resettlement to Afrikaners frames them as refugees from “unjust racial discrimination” while ignoring the systematic racial injustices black South Africans continue to face.
This narrative mirrors AfriForum’s long-standing campaign to depict white South Africans as victims rather than beneficiaries of apartheid.
The Trump administration’s increasing willingness to undermine judicial oversight to pursue its political agenda, through the Musk-headed “Department of Government Efficiency” (Doge), is even more concerning.
After Judge Paul Engelmayer temporarily blocked Musk’s access to the US Treasury Department’s payment systems and sensitive data, Musk lashed out at him on X, referring to him as a “corrupt judge protecting corruption”. Vice President JD Vance defended Musk’s position in response, questioning judicial authority over the executive branch.
Trump also has signalled that his administration will intensify its scrutiny of federal agencies, including the Department of Education and even the military, in what appears to be an effort to consolidate power and purge institutions deemed ideologically opposed to his administration.
Among other issues, Musk is confronting various government diversity and inclusion initiatives and cutting back on anything he considers a “waste” of taxpayer funds. The echoes of South Africa’s apartheid-era state security apparatus, which sought to suppress dissent through legal and extralegal means, are impossible to ignore.
Musk’s recent Nazi-like salute at a Trump rally only adds to the concerns about his ideological leanings. While Musk attempted to downplay the gesture, the symbolism was immediately recognised. His increasing alignment with far-right conspiracy theories, his promotion of the racist “great replacement” theory, and his hostility toward democratic institutions all point to an agenda that seeks to entrench racial and economic hierarchies in the US.
The ghosts of apartheid are not just lingering in history books—they are actively shaping the policies of today in Capitol Hill. The US now reckons with the disturbing reality that figures with deep connections to South Africa’s white supremacist past are now influencing its political and economic future.
Unfortunately for black South Africans, they are once again harassed by apartheid offspring but now from across the Atlantic Ocean.
Siyayibanga le economy!
* Siyabonga Hadebe is an independent commentator on socio-economics, politics and global matters.
** The views expressed here do not necessarily reflect those of Independent Media or IOL.