Recently, I had the privilege of attending a presentation by John Endres from South Africa’s Institute of Race Relations (IRR) at my office. His talk focused on the IRR’s ambitious #WhatSACanBe campaign—a bold push for economic freedom, non-racialism, and prosperity in a country battered by economic decline and governance failures. What struck me most wasn’t just the IRR’s practical, growth-first blueprint—aiming for 7% annual GDP growth through secure property rights, lower taxes, and private-sector solutions—but the underlying shift in public sentiment it reflects. South African voters, it seems, are increasingly waking up to the idea that redistribution isn’t the golden ticket to raising living standards. As an Englishman and a free-marketeer, I found this both fascinating and oddly dissonant with the psychology I see here in the UK.
In South Africa, the IRR’s campaign emerges against a backdrop of stagnation: rising unemployment, crumbling infrastructure, and a government long wedded to state-driven inefficiencies. The #WhatSACanBe Pledge challenges this by rejecting central planning and advocating for wealth creation over wealth reallocation. It’s a call to dismantle state monopolies, end race-based policies, and empower individuals through ownership and opportunity rather than dependency. Hermann Pretorius, IRR’s Head of Strategic Communications, framed it as a “declaration of intent”—South Africans taking their future into their own hands. The IRR’s research backs this up: an economy growing at 7% doubles every decade, a transformation they argue is far more effective than redistributing a shrinking pie.
What’s intriguing is the suggestion that South African voters are reaching this conclusion not out of some ideological conversion to free-market purism, but out of sheer necessity. Decades of redistributionary policies under successive governments have delivered little beyond promises of “New Dawns” that never dawn. The result? A country at an inflection point—where the standard of living has sunk so low, and for so long, that the practical advantages of wealth creation are starting to outweigh the populist allure of handouts. It’s a pragmatic shift, born from exhaustion with failure rather than a sudden love for Adam Smith & Co.
Contrast this with the UK, where I’ve long observed a very different public psychology. Here, there’s a pervasive sense that wealth and prosperity are either a given—something we’re entitled to by virtue of being a developed nation—or a finite resource hoarded by caricatured villains: the “non-doms,” the City fat cats, the tax-dodging multinationals. The debate often feels stuck in a zero-sum mindset, where the answer to every social ill is to tax someone richer and redistribute the proceeds. Growth, when it’s discussed at all, is treated as a nice-to-have, not the engine of progress. It’s as if we’ve forgotten that the pie can—and must—expand for everyone to thrive.
This divergence got me thinking about inflection points. Countries like South Africa, or even Argentina—another nation battered by decades of economic mismanagement and redistributionary zeal—seem to hit a threshold where the evidence of failure becomes undeniable. When your GDP per capita languishes, when unemployment festers, and when state promises ring hollow, the appeal of trying something different grows. Wealth creation starts to look less like a luxury for the privileged and more like a lifeline for the desperate. In South Africa, the IRR’s Blueprint for Growth series makes this case with hard data: free enterprise, secure property rights, and market-friendly policies are the proven path to jobs and prosperity. Redistribution, by contrast, has left the country poorer than it should be.
Here in the UK, we haven’t hit that inflection point—or at least, not yet. Our relative wealth cushions us from the stark realities South Africa faces. But that complacency comes with a cost. Look at Denmark, where 91% of income growth for the poorest over a century came from expansion, not reallocation. Or Europe broadly, where data shows countries with greater economic freedom enjoy higher income mobility and well-being. The lesson is clear: wealth creation lifts all boats; redistribution just rearranges the deckchairs.
So why does the UK public cling to the opposite instinct? Perhaps it’s the luxury of not yet facing South Africa’s precipice. Or maybe it’s the lingering cultural echo of post-war socialism, where equality became the goal over abundance. Whatever the cause, the IRR’s work offers a provocative challenge. If South Africans—living in a far tougher context—are beginning to see wealth creation as the practical way forward, shouldn’t we, in a richer nation, be asking ourselves the same question? Are we so wedded to the idea of a preset, hoarded prosperity that we’re missing the bigger picture?
The #WhatSACanBe Pledge isn’t just a South African story—it’s a universal one. It’s about rejecting stagnation and embracing the human capacity for innovation and growth. As Endres spoke, I couldn’t help but wonder: maybe the UK needs its own inflection point. Not out of desperation, but out of ambition. Because if wealth creation can turn the tide in a place as challenged as South Africa, imagine what it could do here.
