The Silent Coup: When Banks Decide Who Lives and Who Starves

By Sipho Tshabalala

A quiet war is raging. No bombs, no guns—just spreadsheets, signatures, and boardroom whispers. And yet, the destruction is real. Careers vanish, businesses collapse, families are ruined. The enemy? Banks. The battlefield? Your right to exist in an economy governed not by justice, but by invisible hands that answer to power, not principle.

We are witnessing a silent coup, where financial institutions have become the enforcers of political agendas, cloaked behind the slippery veil of “reputational risk.” It sounds harmless, even responsible. But in truth, it is a weapon, a blunt instrument used to punish dissent, silence critics, and eliminate those who dare build outside the establishment.

In the United States, the script is already playing out. After the January 6, 2021 Capitol riots, Capital One moved swiftly, shutting down 300 business accounts linked to the then former President Donald Trump’s family. No court ruling, no due process, just silence. The Trump Organisation called it what it was: a financial assassination. Not because of fraud. Not because of crime. But because of politics.

It was a warning shot. If it can happen to a former president, what chance does the ordinary person have?

Senator Tim Scott fought back this week, leading to the FDIC’s recent move to end “reputational risk” as a legitimate reason for closing bank accounts. It’s a start. But while America debates the ethics, in South Africa, the bullets have already landed.

Take the Sekunjalo Group, a proudly black-owned investment firm with deep roots in transformation and empowerment. Multiple South African banks turned on it—colluding, coordinating, and terminating accounts. Not because of a criminal conviction. Not even a formal charge. Just whispers. Allegations. And the label of “reputational risk.”

Risk to who? Risk to what? The answer is clear: risk to the status quo. Risk to an economy still trapped in the hands of a few, where black success is only tolerated when it is submissive, not when it is self-determined.

EFF leader Julius Malema has spoken fearlessly about this abuse. His own accounts with FNB and Absa were shut down. Even more grotesque—his teenage son was denied the right to open an account. A child. Punished for his surname. Malema called for a national uprising, warning that if we do not confront this now, the noose will tighten around all our necks.

And he’s right. The banks have shown us how they choose their targets. When millions of undeclared US dollars were hidden in President Cyril Ramaphosa’s furniture, FNB closed the accounts of the people who stole the cash—but not Ramaphosa himself, who failed to bank it properly, failed to report the crime, and failed the nation. Selective punishment is not justice—it’s control.

Former President Jacob Zuma’s son, Duduzane, faced the same fate. His accounts were shut in 2015. He had to leave South Africa—not because of guilt, but because he couldn’t buy bread, pay rent, or catch a taxi. Matshela Koko, former Eskom Interim CEO, watched as his entire family was blacklisted by banks. His crime? Defending coal over renewables..Opposing the prevailing narrative. Refusing to bow.

In court, his legal team revealed the truth: not one member of his family can access a bank account. Not one. In a democracy.

This is not about corruption. If it were, the same rules would apply to the Steinhoffs, the Tongaats, the EOHs—white-led corporations whose corruption drained billions. Yet their doors remain open, their bank accounts untouched. The pattern is unmistakable. This is about race. This is about power. This is about fear.

Banks were never meant to be ideological police. They are service providers. Their job is to hold money—not to hold democracy hostage.

We must say it plainly: reputational risk is a scam. It is undefined, untested in court, and entirely subjective. It allows a handful of CEOs to decide who eats and who starves. Who rises and who is erased. That is not banking. That is tyranny.

South Africa cannot allow this to continue. We need new laws—laws that strip banks of the power to punish without proof. We need regulators with teeth. We need a justice system that sees black ambition not as a threat, but as a right.

Because today it’s Sekunjalo, Malema, Zuma, and Koko. Tomorrow, it will be you. The mother who runs a spaza shop. The activist asking the wrong questions. The student who posts the truth on social media.

This is not just about money. It’s about freedom. And freedom cannot exist when access to a bank account is a political privilege, not a human right.

The banks may be silent. But we will not be.

* Sipho Tshabalala is an independent writer, commentator and analyst. 

** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.