If we look deeper at why more black people are not given power or are overlooked for major positions in CSI South Africa, it’s because there is a silent fear in corporate South Africa: if we give black professionals full financial control, will they do the right thing?
It’s a question that’s never said aloud in boardrooms, but one that guides decisions behind closed doors. It lurks underneath the surface of strategy sessions, compliance reviews, and leadership appointments. It explains why black CSI professionals are appointed to manage large budgets but are not entrusted with actual power. It’s why someone can be given R75 million to manage, but can only sign off R80,000 without seeking approval from a board that only meets four times a year.
What that signals is simple: we trust your face, but not your judgment. You can hold the title, but not the authority. And that, more than anything, is what is stalling transformation in this sector.
But now we have to ask the harder question: where does that fear come from? Because while some of it is rooted in racism and systemic bias, some of it – and this is where it gets uncomfortable – is rooted in experience.
Over the past 26 years, I have worked almost exclusively with black CSI professionals. That is the reality of the space I’ve occupied. But in that time, I’ve been asked more than once to inflate invoices, to kick back a portion of the budget, or to “make a plan” so that someone else could benefit from the deal. Every one of those requests came from a black professional. Not one of them was white.
I’ve been in meetings where black leaders have told me, “You don’t know the wars we’re fighting.” And I believe them. They are often navigating toxic environments, being undermined, second-guessed, and set up to fail. But at the same time, some of those very leaders are creating backdoor deals, engaging in unethical practices, and asking suppliers to split contracts. That is also the truth. And we cannot afford to deny it.
There was a time I was offered a six-million-rand project – with the condition that three million be paid back under the table. I walked away. That wasn’t the first time. On other occasions, I was told to pack quotes or inflate prices so that others could pocket the difference. These are not hypotheticals – they are real scenarios involving black professionals in respected institutions.
Now, is that representative of everyone? Absolutely not. I’ve also worked with principled black leaders who’ve turned down gifts, returned books I tried to give as a thank you, and made it clear they will not compromise their ethics. But the challenge is, the minority that engage in corruption are giving the majority a bad name – and giving corporate South Africa the justification to keep black professionals at arm’s length when it comes to real financial control.
And let’s not be naïve – white professionals engage in corruption too. But theirs is often polished, quiet, and embedded in policy. Look at the case of the Tears Foundation – a white woman receives millions in funding for her foundation and then sets up a consultancy to invoice her own foundation at inflated rates. That’s corruption. Or go to the Road Accident Fund, where black claimants receive a fraction of their settlements because white-run firms extract huge portions through “admin fees” and “legal costs”. A black victim might be awarded R14 million but walk away with R2.5 million. The rest? Lost in paperwork and billable hours.
This is white-collar corruption. It’s legal. It’s organised. And it’s deadly.
So no, corruption is not exclusive to race. But in the context of CSI, the consequences fall harder on black professionals – because they already sit under a microscope. And when one of us falls, it confirms every bias they already had.
I had a conversation recently with a sector peer who said, “The reason you see these things is because you mostly work with black people.” And he was right. In over two decades, only one white CSI manager has ever partnered with or funded my work. Just one. The rest have been black. And interestingly, it was only after that white partner backed my work that many black professionals began to take notice of who we were and what we were building.
So, when I talk about corruption, I speak from experience – not theory. And I’m not here to throw stones. I’m here to sound the alarm.
Because what’s happening now is that the CSI and social development landscape in South Africa is becoming whiter. Quietly, slowly, structurally. And if we don’t address the internal issues – if we don’t call out unethical behaviour, no matter who it comes from – then we are handing this sector back, on a silver platter, to the same hands it once promised to transform.
There are still incredible black leaders doing the work. Holding the line. Turning down favours. Saying no to backdoor deals. But if we want more of them in power, we must ensure that integrity is not optional – it’s functional and foundational.
At the end of the day, transformation is not just about appointments or budgets. It’s about trust. And trust is earned not just by credentials, but by character.
We must build a culture of black leadership that is ethical, transparent and bold – not because we are being watched, but because it is the right thing to do.
If we don’t clean up our own house, others will step in and do it for us. And when they do, it won’t be in the spirit of justice – it will be in the language of compliance. That’s how transformation dies. Quietly. Justified. And forgotten.
We can’t afford that. Not now. Not ever.
The hard truth must be spoken and we need to hold one another accountable- Thank you for speaking out.
A lot of truth here Simphiwe , thank you for the courage to raise it.