Ravin Singh’s ANC Today column last week, The Fiction of the ANC Businessman, raises a separate point that deserves serious consideration: the continued use of the word “tenderpreneur” in South Africa’s public discourse.
Once deployed to describe a specific and troubling phenomenon — politically connected individuals enriching themselves through state procurement — the term has drifted away from analytical precision.
It has devolved into a crude tool, frequently used selectively and subjectively. The result is a label that obscures more than it reveals.
The problem lies in how the term has evolved from descriptive shorthand into a culturally loaded insinuation. It is now used less as a technical descriptor of procurement-linked enrichment than as a social signal — one that often attaches itself to black business success in ways that demand scrutiny.
Its application appears increasingly inconsistent. It raises uncomfortable questions about the criteria by which individuals are judged.
Inconsistency shapes public perception
South Africa’s economy remains heavily dependent on state procurement across multiple sectors. Large, established companies — many listed and predating the democratic era —derive substantial revenue from government contracts.
This fact is neither unusual nor inherently problematic. In most economies, the state is a major client, and private firms routinely supply goods through formal channels.
Consider the scale of diversified service providers such as Bidvest. Its business model includes extensive engagement with the public sector. It supplies consumables, manages facilities. It provides logistics and delivering contracted services across departments and state entities. The company operates deeply within the state procurement ecosystem.
Yet its executives are never described as “tenderpreneurs”.
This disparity invites an important question: what distinguishes a legitimate contractor from a “tenderpreneur”?
If the distinction rests on deriving income from government contracts, the label would apply far more broadly. If it rests on allegations of impropriety, it should be used only where evidence supports such claims.
More than a cultural judgment
But if its application varies depending on who is involved, it risks becoming less an analytical term and more a cultural judgment.
Uneven application of terms shapes narratives about legitimacy and economic belonging.
The persistent association of “tenderpreneurs” with Black entrepreneurs — particularly those perceived to be politically connected — has contributed to a climate in which black business success is often viewed through a lens of suspicion. Sometimes, this suspicion holds merit. But when it becomes the default assumption, it undermines equal scrutiny.
The challenge for commentators is to distinguish between rigorous investigation and shorthand labelling. Interrogating the relationship between political power and economic opportunity is legitimate — indeed necessary.
South Africa’s recent history provides ample evidence of procurement systems manipulated for private gain. But analytical integrity requires consistency.
If proximity to political power is a valid line of inquiry, it must be applied across the board. If state contracts are a legitimate revenue source, then participation in procurement cannot, in itself, be treated as evidence of impropriety.
Guilt by association?
Current discourse frequently fails this standard.
A more consistent approach would ask the same questions of all entities engaged in state procurement. Which companies derive significant revenue from public contracts? How are those contracts awarded? What governance ensures transparency? Who benefits from public expenditure? These structural questions transcend race or party affiliation. They are also questions that remain insufficiently explored in relation to long-established corporate actors.
Public discourse often focuses intensely on the business dealings of politically connected black entrepreneurs. It extends scrutiny to their families and lifestyles. Meanwhile, the private economic ecosystems surrounding white political and corporate elites receive far less attention.
The business interests of their relatives, assets accumulated through decades of influence, and networks through which opportunities circulate are usually not examined as closely.
This imbalance distorts the narrative of who benefits from state power. It reinforces a perception that certain forms of wealth accumulation are inherently suspect while others are presumed legitimate. Such perceptions do not advance accountability. They entrench selective scrutiny. For journalism to retain credibility, it must avoid reinforcing these patterns. Precision in language is one way to achieve this.
Retiring — or at least recalibrating — the use of the term “tenderpreneur” would be a constructive step.
Phrase used recklessly
This does not mean abandoning scrutiny of procurement-linked corruption. Rigorous investigation into state contracting remains essential. But the language used to frame such investigations should be specific and evidence-based. Instead of catch-all labels, reporting should identify concrete mechanisms: conflict of interest, bid rigging, political interference or regulatory manipulation.
Such specificity strengthens accountability by focusing on demonstrable conduct rather than implied identity. It also prevents the conflation of legitimate black enterprise with corruption by default. South Africa’s transformation agenda has sought to expand economic participation. As more black professionals and entrepreneurs enter sectors historically dominated by established firms, their visibility will increase. So too will public interest in their success. But visibility should not automatically translate into suspicion.
An equitable economic discourse requires symmetrical scrutiny. If the concern is undue influence in procurement, the inquiry must encompass all who benefit from state contracts, regardless of race. If the concern is the relationship between political office and private enrichment, investigative attention must extend beyond familiar targets to include the broader ecosystem of influence that has long shaped economic outcomes.
Words such as “tenderpreneur” once served a purpose by highlighting a specific pattern of behaviour. Today, their imprecision risks undermining that purpose by blurring the line between investigation and insinuation. As public discourse matures, so too should its vocabulary.
A more disciplined use of language will not resolve the deeper structural challenges of South Africa’s political economy. But it can contribute to a more balanced and credible conversation about who benefits from state power. Also how those benefits are distributed, and what accountability should look like in a constitutional democracy.
That conversation requires clarity. And clarity begins with the words we choose.
