A Polemic on the Moral Bankruptcy of Progressive Orthodoxy 

For years, the left has wielded the term “microaggression” like a cudgel, bludgeoning White Australians, Americans and Britons with accusations of racism so subtle, so ethereal, that only the enlightened few—those steeped in the arcane dogmas of critical race theory—could discern them. A misplaced glance, a poorly chosen word, a fleeting expression deemed insufficiently deferential: these were the crimes that branded millions as unwitting bigots, their every gesture scrutinised for traces of ancestral sin. 

The left insisted that these invisible slights were not merely offensive but systemic, proof of a nation rotten with prejudice, a society where Black Australians, Americans or Britons could never escape the suffocating weight of White supremacy. Yet now, when confronted with explicit calls for the genocide of White farmers in South Africa—speeches delivered not in whispers but in stadiums, not in coded glances but in bloodthirsty anthems—the same left squirms, equivocates, and offers mealy-mouthed rationalisations. This is not mere inconsistency; it is hypocrisy so brazen, so morally grotesque, that it demands a reckoning.

Let us first recall the fevered hysteria of the microaggression era, that peculiar moment in Western intellectual history when the left decided that the smallest infractions of etiquette were tantamount to violence. In university lecture halls, corporate boardrooms, and the endless scroll of social media, we were told that racism had not diminished but merely mutated, cloaking itself in the mundane. To ask a Black colleague where they were from was not curiosity but a dog whistle, a reminder of their supposed otherness. To compliment someone’s English was to imply they were not native, a subtle erasure of their belonging. To fail to acknowledge someone’s “lived experience” in precisely the prescribed jargon was to perpetuate a system of oppression. These were not isolated grievances but a grand narrative, one that painted White Americans as perpetual aggressors, their every word and deed laced with malice, whether they knew it or not.

The left’s obsession with microaggressions was not just a linguistic power grab; it was a moral crusade, a way to assert superiority over the unwashed masses who lacked the sensitivity to see their own perfidy. Academics like Robin DiAngelo and Ibram X. Kendi became high priests of this new religion, preaching that racism was not an act but a state of being, inherent in Whiteness itself. To be White was to be guilty, and no amount of grovelling could absolve you—only endless self-flagellation and the adoption of the left’s ever-shifting lexicon. The term “microaggression” was particularly insidious because it required no evidence, no intent, no tangible harm. It was a ghost, a spectre that only the initiated could see, and yet it was wielded to silence dissent, ruin careers, and enforce conformity. If a Black student felt “unsafe” because a professor used the word “articulate” to describe them, that was proof enough. The accused could not defend themselves, for to question the accusation was itself a microaggression, a doubling-down on their racism.

This was the world the left built: one where a White person’s failure to navigate an ever-changing minefield of social cues was evidence of a deep-seated hatred, where the most trivial interactions were weaponised to reinforce a narrative of systemic racism. The message was clear: White Americans were not merely flawed but irredeemable, their culture a cesspool of bigotry that needed constant policing. And police it they did, with diversity training sessions that resembled Maoist struggle sessions, with social media pile-ons that destroyed lives over a single misstep, with an entire industry of consultants paid to sniff out these invisible offences. The left’s vigilance was relentless, their moral certainty absolute. Racism was everywhere, they insisted, and only they could see it clearly enough to root it out.

And yet, when we turn our gaze to South Africa, where the rhetoric is not subtle but explicit, not micro but macro, the left’s moral clarity evaporates like dew in the desert. There, in a nation still scarred by the legacy of apartheid, we hear chants of “Kill the Boer, kill the farmer,” sung with gusto by political leaders like Julius Malema, head of the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) a Communist political party. 

These are not offhand remarks or misinterpreted gestures; they are public declarations, delivered to cheering crowds, calling for the slaughter of White farmers. The context is unmistakable: South Africa’s White farmers, already targeted in brutal attacks that have claimed thousands of lives, are singled out not for their actions but for their race. The song is not a metaphor; it is a promise, a rallying cry for violence that echoes the darkest chapters of human history. And what does the left, so attuned to the faintest whiff of prejudice, have to say about this?

They mumble. They hedge. They deflect. Where once they saw racism in a White person’s failure to use the correct pronoun, they now see “complexity” in calls for genocide. Where once they condemned a poorly worded tweet as evidence of systemic hate, they now urge us to “understand the historical context” of songs that glorify murder. The same intellectuals who decried microaggressions as violence now argue that explicit incitement to violence is merely “symbolic” or “misunderstood.” They tell us that Malema’s rhetoric is not literal, that it’s a form of cultural expression, a way to vent centuries of justified anger. They point to the horrors of apartheid—as if anyone disputes its evil—to explain why such language is excusable, even necessary. They accuse critics of “White fragility,” of overreacting to words that, in their view, carry no real weight.

This is not just hypocrisy; it is a betrayal of every principle the left claims to hold dear. If words are violence, as they so fervently argued when policing microaggressions, then how can words that explicitly call for mass murder be anything less? If intent is irrelevant, as they insisted when condemning White Americans for unconscious bias, then why does Malema’s intent suddenly matter? If the “lived experience” of Black Americans is sacrosanct, why is the lived experience of White South African farmers—many of whom live in fear of being hacked to death—dismissed as irrelevant? The left’s selective outrage is staggering. They will crucify a White professor for using a word with a vaguely problematic etymology, but they will bend over backwards to excuse a Black politician who sings of slaughter. This is not principle; it is tribalism, a craven double standard that exposes the left’s moral compass as a broken, rusted thing.

The excuses offered for Malema and his ilk are as flimsy as they are offensive. We are told that “Kill the Boer” is a historical song, rooted in the anti-apartheid struggle, and thus beyond reproach. But history is not a blank cheque for hatred. The swastika has historical roots, too, as an ancient symbol of prosperity, yet we do not hesitate to condemn its use when it incites violence. We are told that the song is not meant literally, that it’s a form of political theatre. 

But tell that to the farmers whose families have been butchered, whose homes have been razed, whose lives are defined by the constant threat of violence. Words have consequences, as the left once preached with evangelical zeal. If a White American’s clumsy compliment can “harm” a Black colleague, then surely a Black politician’s call to “kill” can harm a White farmer. To argue otherwise is to admit that the left’s entire framework for understanding racism is a sham, a house of cards built on expediency rather than truth.

The left’s apologia for South Africa’s genocidal rhetoric is not just a failure of logic; it is a failure of courage. They are afraid—afraid to confront the ugly reality that their narrative of eternal White guilt cannot accommodate a world where Whites are victims of racial hatred. To acknowledge the plight of South Africa’s White farmers would be to admit that racism is not a one-way street, that it is not solely the province of the powerful but a human failing that transcends colour. This is anathema to the left, whose entire worldview hinges on the Manichean division of oppressor and oppressed. To them, White people can never be victims, because to be White is to be complicit in a system of supremacy. So, they twist themselves into knots, minimising the suffering of White farmers, redefining genocide as “contextual,” and accusing those who raise the alarm of stoking division.

This is the same left that once claimed the moral high ground, that positioned itself as the arbiter of justice in a world plagued by inequality. They told us that their vigilance against microaggressions was a step toward a better, fairer society, where no one would feel marginalised or unsafe. Yet when faced with a clear and present danger—when the rhetoric of extermination is not hypothetical but real—they abandon their principles and retreat into relativism. They cannot bring themselves to condemn Malema’s words unequivocally, because to do so would be to challenge the sacred hierarchy of grievance that governs their ideology. Instead, they offer platitudes about “understanding” and “dialogue,” as if dialogue can stop a machete.

The hypocrisy is not just intellectual; it is deeply human, a refusal to extend the same empathy to White South Africans that the left demands for every other group. When Black Americans spoke of feeling unsafe in predominantly White spaces, the left listened, amplified, and acted. When White South African farmers speak of feeling unsafe in their own homes, the left looks away. This is not justice; it is selective compassion, a moral failing that undermines the left’s claim to universalism. If their goal is truly a world free of hatred, then why do they flinch when the hatred is directed at Whites? Why do they insist on seeing racism only when it fits their preconceived narrative? 

The answer is simple: because their crusade was never about eradicating racism but about power, about controlling the terms of the debate and punishing those who deviate from the script.

The left’s double standard is a stain on their credibility, a reminder that their moral posturing is just that—posturing. They have spent years cultivating an image as the defenders of the downtrodden, the champions of the marginalised, yet they cannot muster the decency to condemn calls for genocide when the targets are White. This is not a minor oversight; it is a catastrophic failure, one that exposes the hollowness of their ideology. If they cannot see the evil in singing “Kill the Boer,” then they have no business lecturing anyone about microaggressions. If they cannot recognise the humanity of White farmers, then their talk of empathy is a lie. If they cannot apply their own standards consistently, then their entire project is a fraud.

Let us be clear: the issue is not whether South Africa’s history justifies anger or resentment. Of course it does. Apartheid was a monstrous system, and its legacy lingers in the inequalities that still plague the nation. But anger is not a licence for hatred, and history is not an excuse for incitement. The left’s refusal to draw this line—to say, unequivocally, that calls for genocide are unacceptable—betrays their own rhetoric about the power of words. They have spent decades arguing that language shapes reality, that even the smallest slights can perpetuate harm. Yet when the language is explicitly violent, when the harm is not theoretical but actual, they fall silent. This is not nuance; it is cowardice.

The left’s hypocrisy is a warning, a sign that their moral framework is not just flawed but dangerous. By excusing genocidal rhetoric in South Africa while condemning microaggressions in America, they reveal a worldview that is not only inconsistent but profoundly cynical. They are not interested in truth or justice; they are interested in maintaining a narrative that serves their interests, that keeps them at the helm of the cultural conversation. This is why they can rail against a White person’s unconscious bias one day and shrug off a Black person’s explicit hatred the next. It is all a game, a performance of virtue that collapses under scrutiny.

In the end, the left’s failure to confront South Africa’s genocidal rhetoric is not just a betrayal of White farmers; it is a betrayal of their own principles. They have spent years telling us that words matter, that racism is a poison that must be eradicated at all costs. Yet when the words are murderous and the racism undeniable, they look the other way. 

This is not progress; it is regression, a step backward into a world where morality is dictated by tribe rather than truth. The left once claimed to be the conscience of the West, but their silence on South Africa proves that their conscience is selective, their outrage a sham. They have no right to lecture anyone about racism until they can condemn it in all its forms, without hesitation or equivocation. Until then, their cries of “microaggression” will ring hollow, drowned out by the chilling chorus of “Kill the Boer.”