By Iqbal Jassat

Peter Bruce mistakes political scrutiny for identity-based hostility, obscuring South Africans’ right to boycott businesses over their affiliations with Israel.

I read with interest Peter Bruce’s defense of Cape Union Mart, published in the Sunday Times on September 13, 2026, under the title “Picking on the Wrong Jew.” Despite his attempt at balance, I believe he misses a central issue in the boycott debate.

He presents Philip Krawitz as an admirable South African businessman, highlighting his charitable work and the jobs his company provides, before asking how such a “civic-minded” retailer became the target of what he calls a “vicious hate campaign.”

What he fails to acknowledge is that Krawitz became a political target because of his public identification with Israel, his institutional connections, and statements that situated him within a broader debate about South African support for Israel.

Ironically, Bruce himself confirms Krawitz’s connections to the settler-colonial regime by reminding readers that he was once photographed with Benjamin Netanyahu, who is subject to an arrest warrant issued by the International Criminal Court for alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Contrary to Bruce’s argument, as summed up in his misleading headline, Jewish identity is not a legitimate basis for political targeting. Public affiliations with a genocidal regime, however, can be questioned, scrutinized, condemned, and boycotted.

Bruce himself acknowledges the political context. He recounts the October 7 Hamas attack, the Israeli military campaign that followed, the deaths of more than 70,000 Palestinians according to the figures cited in his article, and South Africa’s position that Israel is committing genocide. He also acknowledges that Israel has become diplomatically isolated.

Yet, having established that context, Bruce appears to want its political consequences to stop at the doors of Cape Union Mart.

That is where his argument collapses. The court did not outlaw the boycott. It ruled against specific allegations made by protesters.

That distinction matters: the court found that claims portraying Krawitz and Cape Union Mart as funders of genocide, the Israeli military, or the killing of children lacked the necessary evidentiary foundation.

The judgment did not establish that consumers have no right to boycott Cape Union Mart, nor did it prohibit criticism of Israel. It did not outlaw Palestinian solidarity or remove the constitutional right to peaceful protest.

Bruce himself concedes that protesters remain within their rights, provided they comply with the court’s restrictions.

The legal position is therefore considerably narrower than the moral conclusion Bruce appears to draw from it.

By repeatedly asking whether Krawitz was targeted because he is Jewish, Bruce ventures into identity politics. He reinforces this framing by asking whether protesters would have targeted Raymond Ackerman, were he still alive, or Adrian Gore.

This is an important issue, but it requires precision. Jewish identity is not a legitimate basis for political hostility. Neither is Muslim identity, Christian identity, African identity, or any other religious or ethnic identity.

But criticism of an individual’s political affiliations does not become antisemitic simply because that individual is Jewish.

As for consumer boycotts, our own history has taught us their importance. South Africa’s liberation movement understood this very well.

Economic boycotts were deliberately used to pressure companies and institutions associated with apartheid. Their purpose was to impose economic consequences. If such boycotts are now deemed illegitimate, much of the international campaign against apartheid would also have to be condemned as irresponsible.

The argument, therefore, cannot be that Cape Union Mart should be exempt from economic pressure because it employs South Africans.

The real question is whether the political reasons for the boycott are legitimate.

Bruce makes another revealing comparison when he argues that if protesters targeted Ford or Amazon, the South African government would move quickly to protect major US investors. He also points out that US aircraft have been involved in Israel’s military campaign.

But this comparison undermines his own argument because it demonstrates precisely how economic relationships become political.

If anything, Bruce’s comparison confirms that economic relationships cannot be separated from politics simply because doing so becomes inconvenient.

He also fails to acknowledge that a boycott does not require a court to establish criminal liability.

A consumer does not need proof beyond a reasonable doubt before deciding that a company no longer deserves their business. Nor should South Africans be required to surrender their right to political judgment.

Bruce also fails to concede that the protesters’ strongest case never depended on proving that Krawitz personally financed Israeli military operations.

Their political argument concerns the relationships among South African institutions, public figures, Israel, and the wider system of international support that has allowed the genocide in Gaza to continue.

There is also an uncomfortable irony in Bruce’s argument. As South Africans, we understand the power of consumer pressure because we experienced it ourselves.

The anti-apartheid movement did not wait for every company targeted by international campaigns to be found legally responsible for apartheid’s crimes.

That history cannot suddenly become irrelevant when the target is connected to the debate over Palestine.

The issue is not whether Krawitz is Jewish. It is whether his public affiliation with Israel is open to scrutiny and whether South Africans have the right to use their purchasing power in opposition to a government and political project they believe are responsible for grave injustice.

The views expressed in the article do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of The Palestine Chronicle.