You can't really talk about the soul of the Mother City without mentioning the Cape Times Cape Town. It’s just there. Like Table Mountain or the wind that knocks you sideways on Adderley Street. If you walk into a coffee shop in Gardens or a small corner store in Mitchells Plain, you’ll likely see that masthead. It’s been around since 1876. Think about that for a second. This paper has survived world wars, the rise and fall of apartheid, the transition to democracy, and now, the digital chaos that’s killing off print media everywhere. Honestly, it’s a miracle it still lands on driveways every morning.
But here’s the thing. The Cape Times isn't just a news source. It’s a lightning rod. Depending on who you ask in Cape Town, it’s either a vital voice for the marginalized or a shadow of its former self, caught in a never-ending cycle of ownership drama and editorial controversy.
The Paper That Saw Everything
Started by Frederick St. Leger, the Cape Times was originally the English-speaking voice of the Cape Colony. For over a century, it played a very specific role. It was the "establishment" paper. If you were a businessman in the CBD or a housewife in the Southern Suburbs, this was your bible. It had that stiff-upper-lip British sensibility.
During the dark years of apartheid, the paper found itself in a weird spot. It was white-owned, sure, but it often pushed back against the National Party. Tony Heard, a former editor, famously defied the government in 1985 by publishing an interview with Oliver Tambo, who was then the banned leader of the ANC. That wasn't just "brave" for the time; it was legally dangerous. He was arrested. That’s the kind of legacy the Cape Times Cape Town carries—a history of sticking its neck out when the stakes were actually high.
Things changed. A lot.
In the 90s, the paper became part of the Independent News & Media group, owned by Irishman Tony O'Reilly. This was the "glory era" for many old-school journalists. The newsroom was packed. The budgets were fat. But as the 2000s rolled on, the global print decline started hitting hard. Then came 2013. That’s the year that changed everything for the Cape Times and its sister publications. Sekunjalo Investment Holdings, led by Dr. Iqbal Survé, bought the group.
The Alide Dasnois Incident and the Great Shift
If you want to understand why people get so heated about the Cape Times today, you have to look at the Alide Dasnois firing. It’s basically the "Big Bang" of modern Cape Town media politics.
On the night Nelson Mandela died—December 5, 2013—the Cape Times produced a special supplement. It was a massive moment. But the very next morning, the editor, Alide Dasnois, was removed from her post. The new owners said it was about performance and a failure to prioritize the Mandela news correctly. The staff and a huge chunk of the public didn't buy it. They saw it as an attack on editorial independence.
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What followed was a literal exodus.
Long-time columnists walked away. Subscriptions were canceled in protest. The "Save the Cape Times" campaign started. It was messy. Kinda feels like the city split in two right then. On one side, you had people who felt the paper was being turned into a mouthpiece for its new owners. On the other side, the new leadership argued they were finally "transforming" a colonial-era institution that had ignored the majority of Cape Town's citizens for far too long.
The rhetoric got sharp. It stayed sharp.
Is the Cape Times Still Relevant in 2026?
You've probably heard people say print is dead. They’ve been saying it since 2010. Yet, the Cape Times Cape Town persists. Why?
Because Cape Town is a deeply divided city with a very specific, local obsession with its own politics. Whether it’s the DA-led provincial government fighting with the national ANC government, or the ongoing housing crisis in the Bo-Kaap and Woodstock, the Cape Times covers the "local" with a grit that national papers like the Sunday Times just can't match.
The paper has shifted its focus. It leans much more heavily into social justice issues now. You’ll see front-page stories about service delivery failures in townships that might have been buried on page ten thirty years ago. Critics call it "activist journalism." Supporters call it "giving a voice to the voiceless."
The truth? It’s probably a bit of both.
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The Digital Pivot and IOL
Most people don't actually hold the paper in their hands anymore. They read it via IOL (Independent Online). This is where the Cape Times Cape Town lives for the younger generation. But the digital transition hasn't been smooth. The website is cluttered. The comment sections are... well, they’re a dark place.
But here’s a detail most people overlook: The Cape Times still sets the agenda for the city's morning talk radio. When Kieno Kammies or the current CapeTalk hosts start their day, they are looking at what the Cape Times (and its rival, the Cape Argus) are reporting. It’s the primary source for the city’s gossip and its grievances.
The Controversy Factor
We have to talk about the "propaganda" accusations. It’s the elephant in the room. There have been multiple instances where the Cape Times published stories that later turned out to be, well, questionable.
Remember the "Decuplets" story? While that was technically a Pretoria News story (also owned by Independent Media), the Cape Times and the whole group doubled down on it. It was a disaster for their credibility. When you’re an editor and you’re claiming a woman gave birth to ten babies without a shred of hospital evidence, people are going to stop trusting your weather report, let alone your political analysis.
Then there’s the ongoing tension with the Daily Maverick and News24. It’s a full-blown media war. You’ll often see Cape Times editorials attacking other journalists by name. It’s unusual. In the old days, papers had a "gentleman’s agreement" not to bicker in public. That’s gone. It’s bare-knuckle boxing now.
Who Actually Reads It?
It's a mix.
- The Old Guard: People in Rondebosch or Sea Point who have had a subscription since 1974. They complain about the quality but they can’t start their day without it.
- The Political Class: Politicians in the Western Cape legislature read it to see who is being attacked and who is being praised.
- The Activists: People working in NGOs and community upliftment who find the paper’s current slant more aligned with their work than the more "business-friendly" outlets.
- The Commuters: People grabbing a copy at the train station or a petrol station on the way to work.
The circulation numbers aren't what they used to be. Not even close. From highs of over 50,000 copies daily in its prime, it’s dropped significantly—mirroring the global trend. But "reach" is a funny thing. A story in the Cape Times gets screenshotted, put on X (Twitter), shared in WhatsApp groups, and suddenly half the city is talking about it.
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What the Cape Times Gets Right
Despite the drama, they still have some solid reporters on the ground. When there’s a massive fire on the mountain—which happens every summer—the Cape Times photographers are usually the ones getting the iconic shots. They know the streets. They have the "little black book" of contacts in the city council that outsiders don't have.
Their coverage of the Cape Town High Court is also traditionally strong. Some of the most complex gang trials and corruption cases in South African history have played out in that building on Keerom Street, and the Cape Times is always in the front row.
The Reality of Local News
If the Cape Times Cape Town vanished tomorrow, the city would lose something irreplaceable. Not because it’s perfect—it’s far from it—but because a city needs a dedicated morning paper to hold up a mirror, even if that mirror is a bit cracked and dusty.
Local news is expensive to produce. It’s much cheaper to aggregate viral videos from the US or UK than it is to send a reporter to a protest in Khayelitsha at 4:00 AM. The Cape Times still does the latter.
Actionable Steps for Navigating Cape Town Media
If you’re living in the city or just trying to stay informed, don’t just rely on one source. That’s the quickest way to get a warped view of reality.
- Read across the aisle. If you read a scandalous story in the Cape Times, go see how the Weekend Argus or the Daily Maverick is covering it. The truth usually sits somewhere in the middle of their shouting match.
- Check the bylines. Start noticing which journalists are actually doing the shoe-leather reporting. Names like Quinton Mtyala or others who have spent years on the beat are usually more reliable than anonymous "Staff Reporters."
- Support local journalism. Whether it’s a subscription to the Cape Times or a donation to a non-profit newsroom like GroundUp (which covers the stuff the big papers often miss), local news only survives if we pay for it.
- Use the archives. If you’re a researcher, the National Library in Cape Town holds the physical archives of the Cape Times. It is a goldmine. You can literally track the evolution of the city’s language and prejudices decade by decade.
The Cape Times Cape Town isn't just a newspaper; it’s a survivor. It’s messy, it’s controversial, and it’s occasionally infuriating. But it is deeply, authentically Cape Town. You don't have to love it to recognize that it’s part of the furniture. In a world of AI-generated "content" and fake news bots, there is still something to be said for a paper that’s been printed on the same block for a hundred years, even if it’s currently fighting for its life in the digital age.
If you want to understand the power dynamics of the Western Cape, you have to read it. Just keep your wits about you. Understand the ownership. Recognize the bias. But don't ignore it. Because in Cape Town, what's on the front page of the morning paper still has a weird way of becoming the reality by lunchtime.
To get the most out of your local news consumption, start by comparing the lead stories of the Cape Times with the Cape Argus for three days straight. You’ll quickly begin to see the different "realities" being sold to different parts of the city, which is the first step toward becoming a truly informed Capetonian.