By Sipho Tshabalala
For all the talk of a democratic South Africa, one industry remains trapped in the shackles of apartheid—banking. Thirty years since the dawn of democracy, the financial sector is still a fortress of white male dominance, untouched by the promises of transformation. If one ever needed proof that economic apartheid is alive and well, look no further than the banks that continue to dictate the country’s financial future while shutting out the majority of its people.
Parliament bore witness to yet another chapter in the endless saga of economic exclusion. Six of South Africa’s biggest banks lined up to present their reports, and yet, out of all their top executives, only one—Standard Bank’s CEO—was African. It is mostly white men who are steering the financial sector in a country where the overwhelming majority is black. The optics alone were jarring, a stark reminder that despite the politically correct statements issued every year, South Africa’s financial institutions remain playgrounds for an elite class unwilling to share power.
But let’s be honest—were we really expecting anything different? These are the same institutions that built their empires on the backs of black South Africans while refusing them access to capital. They profited under apartheid, and today, they continue to profit from a system designed to keep wealth concentrated in the hands of a few. They have perfected the art of financial exclusion, from rejecting black-owned businesses for funding to imposing exorbitant fees on the working class just for the privilege of having a bank account.
“The State says we must all put our money in the bank, as citizens we are complying. However, the minute I put my money in a bank account they charge me, when I withdraw they charge me, if I don’t withdraw they still charge me. Three different charges—service fee, admin fee, and monthly account fee—what is that?” Omphile Maotwe of the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) lamented.
That means if one were to add all these three charges, it is possibly around R700 a month. If a bank has one million clients every month, they would make around R700 million monthly!
That’s a staggering amount for a country where millions survive on the bare minimum. Banks are raking in billions off people who barely make ends meet. And yet, when black entrepreneurs seek funding to build businesses, they are met with red tape, endless bureaucracy, and an industry that insists they are too much of a financial risk.
Omphile Maotwe said the EFF have called for a State-Owned Bank, arguing that the Reserve Bank must be more than a passive institution focused solely on inflation. Their point is simple: economic transformation cannot happen if the institutions controlling capital remain in private hands, operating under a profit-first mentality that disregards the needs of the majority. A State-Owned Bank could be a game-changer, providing affordable financial services and funding businesses that would otherwise be locked out of the economy. Yet, the resistance to such an institution is fierce—because the current banking elite knows that real competition would expose just how rigged the system truly is.
And let’s talk about Capitec—the so-called bank of the people. If you listen to their marketing, you’d think they were revolutionising access to finance. But Omphile Maotwe says in reality, Capitec has been accused of operating like a sophisticated loan shark, ensnaring working-class South Africans—particularly miners and blue-collar workers—into cycles of debt. Their business model thrives on high-interest loans to the very people who can least afford them. It’s exploitation, plain and simple.
Then there’s FNB, with its cozy relationship with investment giant Remgro, controlled by none other than Johann Rupert. The whispers about Rupert’s influence over South Africa’s financial institutions are nothing new. But here’s the question: why do these banks, with all their supposed independence, seem to operate in a way that always benefits the same group of people? Why is it that black professionals remain locked out of senior positions, while white executives continue to control the levers of power?
And what of the Financial Sector Conduct Authority (FSCA)? This is the regulatory body meant to enforce accountability, yet it has consistently turned a blind eye to blatant violations by financial institutions. Omphile Maotwe said they advised FSCA of reports of companies deducting money from employees' salaries without actually depositing it into their provident funds, yet not a single CFO has been held accountable. In any functioning democracy, such infractions would lead to prosecutions and harsh penalties. In South Africa, they lead to state tenders.
The South African Reserve Bank (SARB), meanwhile, remains as indifferent as ever. The banking sector is supposed to serve as an engine for economic growth, yet the SARB has allowed it to function as an exclusionary club that only the privileged few can access. The notion that financial policies should actively contribute to job creation and economic empowerment is seen as radical—when, in reality, it should be the bare minimum in a country still battling the economic scars of apartheid.
South Africa’s banking elite is not just out of touch with the realities of ordinary citizens; they are actively working against transformation. They profit off the working class while locking out black businesses. They parade token figures while keeping the real decision-making power within their exclusive circles. And they do it all while claiming to be champions of progress.
The banking sector is not a friend of the people. It has never been. It exists to serve itself, to protect the old order, and to ensure that economic power remains exactly where it has always been. But history has a way of catching up to those who resist change. And the reckoning is long overdue.
* Sipho Tshabalala is an independent writer, analyst and commentator.
** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.