By Shaun Kinnes, DefenceWeb
South Africa’s defence industry is having a moment. Exports reached R10.1 billion in 2025, nearly tripling the previous year’s total, with 582 permits approved for 42 countries. Europe now accounts for 42 percent of those sales. Defence Minister Angie Motshekga has referred to the South African Defence Industry (SADI) as being “world class” and something we should be proud of. Industry leaders believe annual exports could reach R30 billion within five years, while Trade and Industry Minister Parks Tau has said that the SADI is far from a niche sector standing apart from our industrialisation programme but rather is one of its most advanced expressions.
All this praise and yet both Ministers of Defence and Trade have not called for our SADI to be formally designated as a National Pride Industry. This omission is not neutral. It leaves the industry’s identity ambiguous, caught between its undeniable technical achievements and the ethical questions that shadow any arms trade. Formal recognition would not resolve those tensions but would certainly force the state to confront them honestly.
The case for pride rests first on capability. South Africa’s engineers have produced systems that compete globally and are often combat tested: the A-Darter air-to-air missile, the Seeker family of unmanned aerial vehicles, and now the Milkor 380, the largest drone developed on the African continent, with a range exceeding 4 000 kilometres and an endurance of up to 35 hours. These are not assembled from imported kits. They are conceived, designed, and built in South Africa, by South African innovators. The Milkor 380 alone represents a leap in sovereign capability, and its successor, the 780, is already in development.
But capability alone cannot constitute pride. Turkey’s defence industry also inspires national fervour, yet it does so through a techno-nationalism that celebrates military strength as an end in itself. South Africa’s claim to pride must be different. It must rest on something more than the ability to build effective weapons.
That something is the ethical framework the industry operates within, and the uncomfortable truth and sad reality is that this framework remains incomplete. South Africa’s National Conventional Arms Control Act is among the strictest in the world. The problem lies not in the law but in its enforcement. The National Conventional Arms Control Committee (NCACC) has repeatedly approved questionable exports, and the Pretoria High Court ruled in 2024 that permits must be suspended to countries facing credible war crimes allegations. More than a year later, there is little indication this has been done.
This is precisely why “National Pride Industry” status matters so much. The designation would not be a reward for past virtue. It would be a commitment to future accountability. Calling the industry a source of national pride means insisting that its conduct meets the standard that pride implies. It means refusing to hide behind the fiction that arms sales are neutral commercial transactions.
South Africa has already demonstrated that an ethical approach is possible. The industry exports to Germany, France, Australia, and India, all established democracies with no comparable ethical concerns. It has built a reputation for reliable, cost-effective systems that fill niches larger producers ignore. The private sector, which drives most of this innovation, exports 80 to 90 percent of its output. These are achievements that deserve recognition, not apology.
What they do not deserve is silence about the cases where the system fails. The gap between South Africa’s legal commitments and its enforcement record is not an argument against the industry. It is an argument for formalising what the industry should mean. A National Pride designation would make the ethical standard explicit and therefore enforceable in public discourse. It would give critics a benchmark against which to measure performance. It would make it harder for the state to look away.
South Korea, Sweden, China, and France all treat their defence industries as critical national capabilities, not as embarrassing relics. They do so not because they are warmongers, but because they understand that the technological spillovers from defence research in materials science, electronics, aerospace, and communications drive broader economic innovation and create high-value jobs.
South Africa’s defence industry already exists in a difficult position. It must serve a defence force whose budget has fallen below 0.7 percent of GDP. It must compete globally while navigating some of the world’s most stringent export controls and survive without reliable domestic procurement.
Through all this, it has continued to innovate. That is worthy of pride. But pride should not be a mere slogan – it should be a standard. South Africa should designate its defence industry a National Pride Industry not because the weapons are impressive, but because the country is willing to hold itself to the principles it claims to uphold.
We speak often of national pride. We feel it when the Springboks take the field, or when a South African innovation captures global attention. Yet we have allowed a sector that should be a cornerstone of that pride, a high-science, high-skill industry that competes with the best in the world, to slide toward the precipice of irrelevance. It is time to reverse course.
Shaun Kinnes is a researcher with special interests in areas of defence, human security, and climate-induced conflict.
