It seems Mdu is slowly winning with starting his ceramic skills training programme, an since government is not interested in assisting young black entrepreneurs like Mdu, so let's continue supporting him as a people of Mzansi, as little as R50.
1263190782
Nedbank
Mduduzi Matsane
While you guys are riled about Mkhwanazi and the state of the country, the amendment to remove BEE terms to allow Starlink to operate in this country has been drafted Pls go have your say. The comments right now are in support of this. https://t.co/sZgFILUZwx
FNB has reposted their Learnership three times because people are not applying 🥲🥲.
close on 27 June 2025.
The learnership is based in Johannesburg, Gauteng, but you are welcome to apply even if you don’t live in Gauteng.
Estimated Stipend: R6,000 PM
Education : Grade 12
France used psychological warfare to coerce West and Central African countries into adopting the CFA franc and embedded fear and dependency deep into their psyche.
Even before the end of colonialism, France pushed the narrative that African nations were “too fragile” and “unprepared” to manage their own currencies. This was absurd but powerfully effective.
When Guinea’s Sékou Touré rejected France’s proposal, France retaliated viciously. To set an example, French intelligence flooded Guinea with counterfeit francs, triggering hyperinflation and economic collapse. French officials sabotaged infrastructure, burned archives, and withdrew technical staff. French media and African collaborators branded Guinea a “failed state.” The message was clear: economic independence would be punished.
France constructed a binary choice: align with France for “stability,” “credibility,” and market access or go it alone and face chaos. That narrative still shapes monetary thinking in Francophone Africa today.
Yet Morocco, Tunisia, and Algeria, all former French territories, escaped the CFA trap.
This is because of how they were colonised. Tunisia and Morocco were “protectorates”, not full colonies. This legal distinction, underpinned by racial ideology, implied that they had a certain “civilisational maturity.”
Though under French control, they retained local institutions, including their own currencies like the Moroccan franc, linked to the French franc but issued through hybrid bodies. After independence, they could reclaim these systems.
When Tunisia launched the dinar and Morocco reinstated the dirham, they were restoring existing monetary frameworks. Algeria, by contrast, was legally part of metropolitan France and used the French franc directly. After independence, it transitioned to the Algerian dinar, moving from one national currency to another, not breaking from a colonial subsystem like the CFA.
France did not create a “CFA North” for Arab states, not because it was unfeasible but because France viewed Arab countries differently in its racial-imperial order.
As Frantz Fanon wrote in The Wretched of the Earth: “The colonial world is a world divided into compartments… inhabited by different species.”
In this sense, the CFA wasn’t merely a monetary mechanism, it was a racialised tool of domination. Arab populations, though colonised, were seen as semi-assimilable and politically coherent. France believed they could manage limited autonomy. Africans, by contrast, were infantilised, deemed incapable of self-rule and therefore ideal subjects for total monetary control.
To this end, French colonial ideology was structured like a caste system with White French rulers at the top, Arab évolués in the middle and Africans at the bottom.
As Fanon said: “Colonialism is not satisfied merely with holding a people in its grip… it turns to the past of the oppressed people and distorts, disfigures, and destroys it.”
This is what the CFA franc does. It is a disfigurement of sovereignty, an institutional erasure of Africans’ capacity to manage their own economies.
Unlike Morocco, Tunisia, and Algeria, sub-Saharan colonies were never allowed to issue their own currencies. The CFA franc, created in 1945, managed these colonies as a single monetary bloc.
After independence, France simply rebranded the system. Two regional central banks, the BCEAO and BEAC, were created, but monetary policy remained dictated from Paris. The CFA franc stayed pegged to the French Treasury, and convertibility was controlled by the Banque de France.
Most importantly, the threat of Guinea’s fate deterred others from breaking free.
Furthermore, Sub-Saharan leaders were often handpicked and groomed by France. Their regimes depended on France for military, bureaucratic, and economic support. They didn’t just inherit colonial institutions, they also inherited loyalties. For many, France was “home,” and the CFA franc symbolised belonging to the club of “stability”, even if that club required servitude. They saw Frenchness and European institutions as aspirational.
While the CFA franc’s peg to the euro helps stabilise inflation, it comes at a staggering price. Member nations surrender critical economic tools: they cannot devalue their currency to protect local industries, crippling independent industrial policy. The profits from money creation flow to France rather than African economies.
In times of crisis, there is no autonomous lender of last resort, forcing countries to plead with Paris. Worst of all, half their foreign reserves are held abroad under French control, which is just a thinly veiled loss of sovereignty masquerading as “financial security.” The system doesn’t just limit economic policy; it enforces perpetual dependence.
The CFA zone is effectively a safe deposit box for French interests, with African nations locked out of the vault, and it endures not because it works, but because France engineered psychological dependency. Through sabotage, fear, and propaganda, it ensured that rejecting the CFA would be seen not as liberation but as madness.
This is learned helplessness: African elites were conditioned to believe autonomy leads to disaster. These nations didn’t reject sovereignty, they were taught to fear it. In this sense, France doesn’t just control their money; it colonises their imagination.
Today, sub-Saharan countries are sovereign on paper, but in practice, they remain monetary minors, disciplined by France and blocked from independent economic policy.
North African states escaped this trap because they retained or reclaimed their own institutions. They were tenant rulers under surveillance, still managing parts of the household. West and Central African states, however, were outsourced plantations.
Until that legacy is dismantled, true economic decolonisation remains an unfinished project.
It is Youth Day in South Africa, a moment to reflect on the promises made to young people and how far we have strayed from them.
For millions, there is no work. And for many young South Africans, there never has been.
What remains are the empty rituals: speeches, slogans, and ceremonies in a nation where the right to work exists mostly on paper. Ask the unemployed why they are shut out of the economy, and the responses are familiar: corruption, nepotism, and broken promises. If you do not “know someone”, you do not get the job. And they are not wrong. Corruption and nepotism are corrosive. But they are symptoms, not the root cause.
South Africa’s unemployment crisis runs deeper. It is not merely about dishonest individuals, but about an economic system that no longer needs the majority of its workers. As Harvard economist Professor Dani Rodrik wrote, “The ability to generate large numbers of good jobs for workers with limited skills remains the litmus test for inclusive economic growth.” South Africa fails that test.
Over the last thirty years, the country has undergone what Rodrik termed “premature deindustrialisation”: a shift away from labour-intensive industry before a proper industrial base had even formed.
Economists Antonio Andreoni and Fiona Tregenna note that South Africa began deindustrialising before it became rich or fully developed. Unlike other developing nations, this was not due to war or the collapse of state capacity. South Africa simply followed the economic path of wealthier countries, shutting down manufacturing and shifting to services, without ever gaining their wealth.
The result has been devastating. Once a major employer of school-leavers, manufacturing has been gutted by globalisation, automation, and free-market policies. In its place is a sleek, services-based economy dominated by finance, real estate, and consulting. This sector creates high-income jobs for a small, well-connected elite while locking out the majority.
South Africa today is a middle-income country with a labour market that behaves like a rich country’s, but with a workforce that is largely poor and underprepared for such an economy.
Rodrik is blunt: premature deindustrialisation removes the most reliable path to shared prosperity. It means fewer jobs that can absorb low- and medium-skilled workers at scale. In short, South Africa is becoming a service economy without having undergone proper industrial development.
Since the early 2000s, the growth of financial services has inflated GDP and attracted capital, enriching a small class of skilled professionals in Johannesburg and Cape Town. But this growth has not translated into widespread employment. Instead, it has widened the gap between an urban elite and the rest of the country. In provinces like KwaZulu-Natal and the Eastern Cape, there are now more unemployed people than employed.
With industry hollowed out, many of those displaced have ended up in the informal sector: selling fruit, doing odd jobs, or simply surviving day-to-day without security, benefits, or a future.
As Rodrik wrote, when countries industrialise too little and deindustrialise too soon, the result is a small formal sector and a large informal one. South Africa’s leaders call this “structural economic transformation”, but it is a structure built for exclusion, not inclusion.
Rodrik warned as early as 2008 that South Africa’s economy is highly capital- and skill-intensive, while its population has a surplus of low-skilled labour. This mismatch is not an unfortunate accident, but the outcome of deliberate policy choices: fiscal restraint, market liberalisation, and near-blind faith in the private sector to solve unemployment.
This economic model has not only failed to resolve unemployment, it has entrenched it. The country’s foundations have been hollowed out, leaving it vulnerable to external shocks, capital flight, and financial volatility. For a generation born after apartheid, who were told they would inherit opportunity, the reality is grim: no jobs, no income, no future.
Many young people are now missing from the unemployment figures, not because they found work, but because they have given up hope. They are right to be angry. But the true enemy is not only corruption or favouritism in hiring. It is a system that structurally excludes the majority.
Today’s economy creates a sharp divide. Those with elite degrees, often from privileged backgrounds, enter finance, tech, or consulting. Everyone else, especially those from the townships and rural areas, are relegated to insecure piece jobs, the informal sector, or outright unemployment. Even entry-level job requirements, like prior experience, serve as a class filter, privileging those who could afford unpaid internships or draw on family networks.
The result is a generation of disillusioned young people, denied both work and the dignity that comes with it. Blaming corruption feels righteous, but fighting for jobs that no longer exist in a deindustrialised economy is like grasping at smoke. The challenge is not just employment, it is the economic model itself.
This Youth Day, we must be clear: the problem is not laziness or lack of experience. It is a system designed to minimise employment while keeping the economy afloat. Unless the people demand structural transformation, a rebuilding of the economy from the ground up, South Africa will remain trapped in a permanent cycle of exclusion. A generation jobless by design, not by accident.
The youth are right to be angry. Now they must also be organised.
The Soweto uprising was a series of demonstrations and protests led by Black school children that began in the morning of June 16 1976. Students from various schools began to protests in the streets of Soweto in response to the introduction of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in Black schools. More than 20 000 students took part in the demonstrations. They were met with fierce police brutality and may were shot and killed.
Mbuyisa Makhubo carrying the lifeless body of 13 year old Hector Peterson who had been shot by police. Hector's sister, Antoinette Sithole, runs besides them. 16 June 1976, by Sam Nzima.