By Michelle van der Merwe
Recognition in business is not given lightly—it is earned. In 2007, Dr. Iqbal Survé, a man whose entrepreneurial journey shattered historical barriers, received one of the most prestigious awards in South Africa’s business community: the Sakeleier van die Jaar (Business Leader of the Year). This award, jointly conferred by Die Burger and the Kaapstad Sakekamer, had previously been reserved for white Afrikaner business leaders, a list that included figures such as Anton Rupert, Christo Wiese, Raymond Ackerman, and Pam Golding. Yet in 2007, the selection committee had no choice but to honour a man who embodied true business leadership, a non-Afrikaner who had built an empire against all odds.
This moment was historic, not just for Survé but for South Africa. Die Burger, a newspaper with deep roots in Afrikaner nationalism and a history of supporting apartheid, found itself compelled to recognise a businessman who represented the very transformation the old economic order had resisted. The decision was unprecedented, and Survé, ever conscious of the weight of the moment, seized the opportunity. He accepted the award on his own terms—delivering a powerful speech in Afrikaans to an audience that had likely never imagined they would be celebrating a black entrepreneur in their ranks.
Survé did not just accept the award; he confronted history. In his speech, he reminded the Afrikaner business elite of their own struggles against British economic dominance, drawing parallels between their economic emancipation and black South Africans' quest for empowerment. He invoked the history of Afrikaner capital formation, from Volkskas Bank to Sanlam and the Broederbond’s economic projects, and positioned black economic empowerment as a natural continuation of this legacy. His words resonated, earning him a standing ovation—a rare and telling moment in South Africa's business history. As he stood before the audience, he echoed the words of Chief Albert Luthuli: "There remains before us the building of a new land, a home for men who are black, white, brown, from the ruins of the old narrow gaps, a synthesis of the rich cultural strains which we have inherited." He urged Afrikaners to recognise that their history of resilience should make them natural allies in the fight for inclusive economic justice.
Survé’s words to a journalist at the time, Adri Senekal De Wet: "I will always be a doctor, but I am concerned about the future of the people of South Africa that could not be qualified as a doctor or engineer, and I want to make a difference in the country I love." Adri, who covered his career extensively, recalled how Survé "wanted the poorest of the poor to achieve greatness in their own right" and ensured that his employees had an opportunity to own shares and build their own wealth. His decision to list Sekunjalo on the JSE within 18 months, an unprecedented feat, was part of this vision.
But what happened after this recognition? Why did the same Afrikaner establishment that once lauded Survé turn against him with such force?
The answer lies in the very thing that made Survé an exception in 2007—his ability to break through economic roadblocks designed to keep people like him out. Survé did not just succeed; he thrived in industries that had long been the exclusive domain of white capital. Survé’s leadership in Sekunjalo grew into a powerhouse, spanning sectors from fishing and healthcare to media and technology. His acquisition of Independent Media in 2013, however, was the turning point.
The same media establishment that had once honoured Survé now sought to dismantle his success. Naspers, which owns Media24 and controlled Die Burger, has since waged a relentless campaign against him, using its vast media empire to undermine his businesses and credibility. Adri Senekal De Wet has been vocal about this agenda, exposing the role of Koos Bekker and his News24 in orchestrating attacks against Survé. "The very same publications that once saluted him when the AHI awarded him in 2007 now attack his credibility," she observed. She recalled that night, where "more than 1,000 Afrikaner business men and women gathered around him afterward, praising his achievements."
The apartheid economy was built to serve a select few, and while political power changed hands in 1994, economic power remains stubbornly in the grip of old white capital. When Survé bought Independent Media, he disrupted a carefully preserved ecosystem where only certain voices controlled the narrative. His ownership represented a direct threat to the monopoly that Naspers and its affiliates had held over South African media for decades.
The campaign against Survé is not about business missteps or financial decisions, as his detractors claim. It is about control. It is about an establishment that once extended a hand in recognition but quickly withdrew it when Survé refused to play by their rules. The hypocrisy is clear: when he was merely a successful black businessman within the confines of the JSE, he was tolerable. But when he stepped into the media space and gave a platform to narratives that challenged corporate and political elites, he became an enemy.
Yet, history seems to be on Survé’s side. The same Die Burger that honoured him in 2007 cannot erase that moment. The same Afrikaner business community that applauded him then cannot deny that they once saw in him what they had seen in Anton Rupert and Christo Wiese—a man who built something extraordinary. The difference is that Survé built his empire not from inherited privilege but from humble beginnings; it required resilience, innovation, and a deep commitment to economic justice and empowerment.
So the question is not why Survé was honoured in 2007. The question is why those who once celebrated him now seek to destroy him. Is it because he dared to do more than they ever expected him to.
* The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.