We like to think allegiance is simple and that you play for the country where you are born and raised. But in a globalised world, allegiance is fluid. Photo: Themba Hadebe, AP
On a recent Saturday, South Africans were reminded why rugby has the power to unite. The Springboks recorded a record win over the All Blacks, not just a sporting triumph, but a symbolic one.
The team that took the field reflected a South Africa in motion: diverse, gritty, and inclusive. It was a portrait of leadership in action; Siya Kolisi’s presence as captain, Rassie Erasmus’s bold strategies and a collective culture that insists transformation and excellence can coexist.
This victory was about more than rugby. It was proof that when leadership is intentional, when it creates pathways for players from every background, the results can inspire an entire nation. Yet even as South Africans celebrated, another story broke that reminded us how uneven opportunity remains.
Josh Neill, a standout from Rondebosch Boys’ High and already capped at U18 level, announced he would join Leinster in Ireland once his schooling finishes. Thanks to his Irish grandparents, he holds a European passport. For him, allegiance is a choice. For many of his teammates, it is not.
We like to think allegiance is simple and that you play for the country where you are born and raised. But in a globalised world, allegiance is fluid. For athletes like Neill, it becomes a negotiation between birthplace, heritage and opportunity.
An unspoken truth, though, is that most young South African players don’t get to negotiate. Without a European lineage, they have no passport to fast-track opportunities abroad. Their futures remain tied to South African franchises, to whatever contracts are available, to the fortunes of domestic rugby. For them, allegiance is not loyalty, it is inevitability.
Here lies the paradox of leadership: in the Springboks, we see inclusivity working. But in schoolboy rugby, we see how history and privilege still decide who truly has the freedom to choose.
South African rugby has invested years in producing stars like Neill. Our schools, coaches, and supporters carry the weight of development. Does that mean he owes loyalty in return? Or is loyalty too heavy a demand when domestic structures cannot always match the stability and resources of Europe?
Human behaviour is shaped by two pulls — the pursuit of opportunity and the need for belonging. When you inherit a passport, opportunity often wins. When you don’t, belonging is imposed upon you. And this is where leadership matters most. True leadership is not about forcing loyalty through guilt but about creating systems that make staying feel like the rational, attractive choice.
The “grandparent rule” has reshaped modern rugby. Nations such as Ireland, with deep pockets and strong structures, can recruit players developed elsewhere through ancestral ties. For Ireland, Neill is a gain with little upfront cost. For South Africa, he is one more reminder of how porous allegiance has become.
But that passport is more than a bureaucratic formality. It is an inheritance of privilege. It reflects a colonial history that allowed some families to retain ties to Europe while others could not. Where one player inherits mobility, another inherits immobility. Sport mirrors society in this way, unequal histories producing unequal opportunities.
Leadership cannot erase history, but it can confront its consequences. The Springboks have shown what inclusive leadership looks like. The challenge now is extending that ethos to grassroots and youth systems, so privilege is not the only passport to opportunity.
Why do we expect more allegiance from rugby players than from other professionals? No one accuses a doctor of betrayal for taking up a post in London, or an engineer of disloyalty for joining a firm in Dubai. Yet when a rugby player leaves, it feels personal.
That is because sport is not just work; it is identity. Athletes carry the weight of national pride. Their choices speak to us because we see them as symbols of ourselves. When Neill leaves, it feels like rejection. When another player stays, we rarely celebrate it because loyalty is only visible when it is broken.
This is where leadership comes in again. A nation’s leaders in sport, politics, or society must understand how symbols shape our collective psyche. Leadership is about more than managing wins; it is about stewarding hope, building conditions that keep talent, and reminding people why belonging matters.
Some argue that Neill should stay out of gratitude, since South Africa gave him his rugby foundation. But gratitude is rarely a debt. It is shaped by context and ambition. Demanding loyalty in exchange for development ignores the reality that conditions at home don’t always allow athletes to thrive.
For players without European ancestry, however, this entire debate looks different. Their “loyalty” is often a necessity, not a choice. We applaud it as patriotism when in reality it reflects inequality. Leadership means seeing this for what it is and refusing to confuse lack of choice with loyalty freely given.
South Africa loses more than a player; it loses a symbol of possibility for fans who dream of Springbok caps. Ireland gains a promising athlete who may one day wear their jersey. Neill himself gains access to resources that will fast-track his career.
But the deeper loss is more sobering; a reminder that even among our most talented youth, opportunity is unevenly inherited. Leadership must ask hard questions — why should one boy’s lineage offer him freedom while his teammates are bound by circumstance? And what can we do to level that field?
The Springboks’ triumph over the All Blacks showed the best of South African leadership, a diverse team that embodies inclusivity and excellence. Neill’s departure, by contrast, highlights the unfinished work, structures where privilege still dictates opportunity.
The true test of leadership is not simply winning games, but creating conditions where allegiance is not sacrifice, where young players choose South Africa because it offers them dignity, development, and hope.
Perhaps the question is not only why one player chose Ireland, but why so many others never get to choose at all. Allegiance, in this sense, is not just about loyalty, it is about privilege, history, and the responsibilities of leadership.
At its heart, this is less about rugby and more about the human condition. We are pulled by belonging and driven by opportunity. We want to honour our roots but also chase our futures. Yet not everyone gets the same choices. The role of leadership in sport and beyond is to close that gap, so allegiance becomes something chosen with pride, not dictated by privilege.
Professor Armand Bam is Head of Social Impact at Stellenbosch Business School.