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22 August 2025 | Story Dr Nombulelo Shange | Photo Supplied
Dr Nombulelo Shange
Dr Nombulelo Shange is a sociology lecturer at the University of the Free State (UFS).

Opinion article by Dr Nombulelo Shange, Lecturer in the Department of Sociology, University of the Free State 


 

The rising xenophobic violence and exclusion towards African nationals from outside of South Africa is increasingly becoming an emotive issue that is impossible to engage and unpack. In the social-media, “Trumpification” age we live in today, truth-telling and evidence are secondary or even completely irrelevant against the loud, “smart-sounding opinions” rooted in lies and misinformation spread online. Some have used statistics to show that foreigners only make up roughly 4% of our population, which is significant, but not enough to account for our rising unemployment and South Africans’ difficulty in accessing social services and goods such as education and healthcare. There are bigger challenges rooted in our incomplete revolution, rooted in coloniality, where resources and land were left at the hands of the white oppressor, in exchange for “peace”. There are bigger challenges rooted in corruption and poor governance. But even with these realities, many bury their heads in the sand and opt to believe the incomplete story that foreigners are our single greatest problem. 

 

Self-inflicted harm 

Many others have turned to history as a reminder of how African countries in different ways, aided our armed struggle and apartheid resistance, warning that we might need the continent soon and we would have alienated all of our neighbours if we continue down this path. Others have turned to politics and economics, which show us the importance of having strong economic ties with neighbouring countries to ensure growth and development. We saw this in part historically with the European Union and we see it today with the rise of Asian markets like China, Japan, South Korea, Singapore and others. Some of the pluralistic approaches to the rapid growth of many of these Asian markets is in relaxing borders to enable the flow of people, ideas, technology, money and resources. But South Africans continue to respond by fighting for the isolating barriers put up by colonialism and later apartheid in order to strengthen their cruel inhumane policies and stronghold against black people. 

We often do this to our own detriment as black people and people of colour, structures such as Operation Dudula and March on March, seldom march to white schools in the suburbs to demand that white people prove their citizenship and belonging. They do this in predominantly black or mixed areas, applying a self-imposed apartheid dompas system, that limits our movements. They ignore the fact that many South Africans themselves are undocumented because of a variety of historical and contemporary issues and struggles related to accessing important services like Home Affairs. They base many of their strategies on hateful intangible stereotypes like the belief that foreigners are dark, cannot speak South African languages or pronounce specific words. The ideas around what it means to be South African are usually very linear and often prioritise namely Nguni culture and languages. So, if you are not a light skinned, Zulu/Nguni person, without your ID, you find yourself at risk of being harmed or being denied important services like healthcare in an emergency for example. We are too quick to forget the lessons of the COVID-19 pandemic; illness does not care who you are, what race or nationality you are, it spreads and places all of us at risk. Denying foreigners access to healthcare, while many of them live in overcrowded black townships, places black South Africans in harm’s way and can lead to a public health crisis in areas where people were struggling to access healthcare long before the influx of foreigners in the country. 

 

Silence and inaction of our leaders

Noticeable in this whole mess and scary new norm, is the silence and inaction of our leaders. The violent and harmful actions of South Africans can in part be explained by their desperate state stemming from poverty, unemployment, and violent crimes experienced today. The tensions can in part be explained by a lack of adequate awareness of the diverse historical and contemporary importance of the continent and our immediate neighbours for our own growth and development. The overwhelming silence of our leaders is hard to make sense of. The Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) leaders remain some of the few leaders that condemn this violence and call for a united Africa. It is believed this stance even cost EFF supporters in the 2024 elections, but they still continue to hold onto this important ethical stance, while more prominent leaders shy away from the issue. Many of these leaders were themselves either born or raised in exile or started their own families outside of the country and were the direct beneficiaries of the kindness and sacrifice that many African countries showed us during apartheid. In this new climate of having to prove “South Africanness” and therefore belonging gymnastics, many of them would have their belonging questioned. But rather than call out the violence and put protections in place, while creating awareness on diverse complexities that create “South Africanness”, our leaders are silent. And perhaps more startling, is that our government is partly made up of a political party that campaigned on the hate of foreigners. Including political parties like the Patriotic Alliance in governance has helped formalise fringe ideas like the “abahambe” slogan, which was a chant directed at African foreigners, threatening and instructing them to leave. The threats have materialised, and foreigners are having different kinds of violence enacted on them.  

 

Afrophobia protects colonial borders

Many social commentors warned that the xenophobic utterances embedded in slogans such as “abahambe” coming from Patriotic Alliance leader, Minister Gayton McKenzie, are deeply rooted in anti-black hate. The TikTok accounts of creators such as: Nikita Lexi, Tara Roos, Samantha Jansen, Kaapie in Korea, Romantha Botha, and many others, have provided interesting and important context and caution with their historically rooted, evidence-based truth-telling that speaks to a plethora of contemporary South African issues, including race. Minister of Sports, Arts and Culture, McKenzie has now recently come under fire for posting old racist and sexist tweets, where the biggest frustration is over his repeated use of the “k-word”. The minister’s actions raise a lot of questions about the intersecting links between Afrophobia, tribalism, hate towards blackness and self-hate as a psychosocial condition plaguing many black people and people of colour, especially in South Africa. What we learn from the minister’s tweets is that Afrophobia is often used to mask racism. It is concerning for a government minister to hold such views, while they are responsible for providing services to the predominately black masses, and artists, in the case of McKenzie. 

What might be perhaps the most damaging and harmful to us as black South Africans, is that our Afrophobia disconnects us to valuable, self-affirming spiritual, social, historical, ecological and economic ties we have with the African continent. We protect the colonial borders that tore our families and cultural groups apart. Our hate is a worship of the colonial shackles that dismembered our ancestors, histories and experiences and that still stifle us today. 

News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

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