Is South Africa a race-regulated country?

Three decades after democracy, South Africa still grapples with the meaning and role of race. Although the country’s Constitution proclaims that all people are equal before the law, race remains deeply embedded in the policies and politics of transformation.

This reality has raised a question that is both uncomfortable and vital: Is South Africa still a race-regulated country?

The concise answer is no, at least not in the manner apartheid South Africa once was.

During apartheid, race determined where one could reside, who one could marry, the type of work available, and whether one's humanity was recognised by the state.

It was a system founded on legalised segregation and exclusion. In democratic South Africa, such practices are explicitly forbidden. The Constitution of 1996 guarantees the right to equality and dignity for all, and explicitly prohibits discrimination based on race, gender, or any other status.

However, in practice, South Africa does regulate certain facets of life through race-based policies.

The primary difference lies in the purpose and intent behind the use of race. Today, race functions not as a means of oppression but as a tool for redress. Laws such as the Employment Equity Act and the Broad-Based Black Economic Empowerment (B-BBEE) Act specifically reference race to address the structural inequalities inherited from apartheid.

These laws require companies and public institutions to take affirmative steps to ensure fair representation of Black South Africans, women, and persons with disabilities.

Similarly, procurement and ownership policies favour groups historically disadvantaged to promote inclusive growth. Proponents of these measures argue that South Africa cannot ignore race in a society where the scars of racial exclusion are visible in every social and economic indicator.

Despite progress since 1994, wealth, land ownership, and access to opportunities remain overwhelmingly concentrated in white hands.

For them, race-conscious policy is not racial regulation — it is social justice in action, necessary to realise the non-racial ideal envisaged by the Constitution.

Conversely, critics view the ongoing use of race in legislation as a betrayal of that very ideal. They contend that three decades later, South Africa should have moved beyond the framework of racial classification.

Some argue that transformation policies have entrenched new forms of inequality and exclusion, benefitting a small Black elite while doing little to uplift the wider population. Others warn that constant reference to race in policy and public discourse risks perpetuating divisions it aims to dismantle.

Both perspectives raise valid issues. The real challenge is maintaining the delicate balance between non-racialism and redress. Non-racialism, a foundational value of the democratic state, envisions a future where race no longer determines access or sense of belonging.

Redress, on the other hand, acknowledges and actively aims to correct injustices caused by racial hierarchies. South Africa’s policy framework attempts to balance both — that race should not define us, but it still holds significance.

The risk is that corrective measures become permanent fixtures rather than transitional steps.

If transformation policies are not complemented by broader reforms in education, land, enterprise development, and social protection, race-based interventions could lose legitimacy.

Transformation must go beyond compliance scores or quotas; it needs to result in meaningful, measurable improvements in people’s lives. So, is South Africa a race-regulated country? Legally, no.

But in practice, race continues to be regulated for the purposes of equity and justice, not exclusion. The moral challenge for South Africa is whether these policies bring the nation closer to a society where opportunity is determined by character, talent, and effort rather than colour.

Until that ideal is realised, race will remain both a reflection of our past and a gauge of our progress, an uncomfortable yet necessary reminder of the work still required to achieve the promise of a truly non-racial democracy.

* Cassius Selala is the Head of Communication at the Department of Women, Youth and Persons with Disabilities.

** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.