For many Africans across the continent, South Africa has become a painful contradiction. It is the country that once stood as a symbol of African liberation, continental solidarity, and resistance against racial oppression. Today, however, it increasingly appears to many as a state where black African migrants are harassed openly, scapegoated politically, and abandoned institutionally while political leaders respond with silence, denial, or carefully coded rhetoric.
The recent escalation of anti-migrant hostility in Johannesburg, Pretoria, Soweto, and parts of Gauteng has exposed a dangerous political reality. Xenophobia in South Africa is no longer simply a matter of isolated criminality or sporadic social unrest. It has evolved into a tolerated political culture sustained by weak leadership, selective law enforcement, and opportunistic populism.
South African state must decide whether it stands for constitutional equality or for politically convenient exclusion
At the centre of this crisis is the South African government led by President Cyril Ramaphosa of the African National Congress (ANC). South African state must decide whether it stands for constitutional equality or for politically convenient exclusion defensive, and evasive. Instead of confronting xenophobia directly, sections of the political establishment continue to hide behind the language of “illegal immigration,” even when African migrants are clearly being targeted collectively.
Deputy President Paul Mashatile recently dismissed concerns by insisting publicly that “there is no xenophobia in South Africa.” Such remarks are not merely inaccurate. They are politically dangerous. They invalidate the daily experiences of Nigerians, Zimbabweans, Mozambicans, Malawians, Ethiopians, Somalis, Congolese, and other African nationals who face intimidation, discrimination, and violence in communities across South Africa.
When African-owned shops are looted, when migrant workers are publicly profiled, when mobs march through neighbourhoods chanting anti-foreigner slogans, and when clinics deny treatment to foreign Africans under pressure from vigilante groups, the issue cannot honestly be reduced to immigration enforcement.
It is AFROPHOBIA directed overwhelmingly at black Africans.
What makes the situation even more alarming is the role of organised anti-migrant formations such as Operation Dudula. Led publicly by figures such as Nhlanhla “Lux” Dlamini, Operation Dudula has repeatedly conducted patrols, raids, and demonstrations targeting foreign nationals. Members routinely demand identity documents from African migrants despite having no legal authority to perform immigration enforcement functions.
Yet despite operating openly, the movement continues to organise with apparent impunity.
South African police and security forces have often been present during anti-migrant demonstrations. In some cases, officers appear more focused on escorting protestors than protecting targeted migrants. The symbolism is devastating. African migrants increasingly perceive the state not as a neutral constitutional authority, but as a passive observer standing beside those threatening them.
This selective tolerance raises serious questions. South African authorities have historically responded aggressively to labour protests, student movements, and community uprisings. Demonstrations are frequently dispersed quickly when they threaten state interests or economic stability. Why then are anti-migrant vigilante formations repeatedly permitted to mobilise openly in densely populated urban areas?
The answer lies partly in political convenience.
South Africa faces severe structural crises: unemployment, corruption, collapsing municipalities, energy instability, rising inequality, violent crime, and failing public services. Instead of addressing these problems honestly, many politicians increasingly redirect public frustration toward migrants. Foreign Africans have become politically useful scapegoats.
Gayton McKenzie and his comrade Herman Mashaba have openly promoted hostility against Black African foreign nationals
Herman Mashaba, founder of ActionSA and former Mayor of Johannesburg, has built significant political capital around aggressive anti-immigration rhetoric. Gayton McKenzie, leader of the Patriotic Alliance, has similarly promoted hardline immigration positions that critics argue normalise hostility toward migrants. While these politicians frame their campaigns as opposition to undocumented migration, the practical outcome is broader social hostility directed at black Africans regardless of legal status.
This political environment legitimises xenophobic sentiment while allowing leaders to deny responsibility for its consequences.
The tragedy is historically grotesque.
During apartheid, African countries across the continent sheltered South African exiles, funded liberation struggles, trained anti-apartheid activists, and endured military destabilisation for supporting freedom movements. Zambia, Tanzania, Mozambique, Angola, Nigeria, and many others carried enormous economic and political burdens in solidarity with black South Africans.
Today, citizens from many of those same countries are insulted, assaulted, and blamed for South Africa’s failures.
Nigeria has now formally protested escalating hostility against its nationals. Nigerian government official Bianca Odumegwu-Ojukwu announced repatriation support for Nigerians wishing to leave South Africa because of security fears. Ghanaian authorities have also raised concerns, while the government of Mozambique under President Daniel Chapo has reportedly monitored the situation closely due to attacks affecting Mozambican nationals.
This is no longer an internal South African matter. It is becoming a continental diplomatic crisis.
The silence of the African Union is increasingly indefensible.
The African Union routinely speaks about Pan-Africanism, continental integration, African unity, and free movement. Yet when African migrants are systematically targeted inside one of the continent’s most powerful economies, the institution responds cautiously and weakly. That inconsistency undermines the credibility of the entire Pan-African project.
The AU should urgently convene an independent fact-finding mission into xenophobic violence and anti-migrant vigilantism in South Africa. It should investigate police conduct during demonstrations, assess failures in migrant protection, and demand enforceable guarantees for African nationals residing in South Africa.
More serious measures should also be debated openly. If African states can face suspension or sanctions over unconstitutional behaviour and human rights abuses, then systematic tolerance of anti-African violence should not be politically exempt simply because South Africa holds economic influence.
Calls for boycotts against selected South African products and corporations operating elsewhere in Africa are also likely to intensify if conditions continue deteriorating. Many Africans increasingly question why South African businesses should enjoy profitable access across the continent while fellow Africans experience hostility and humiliation within South African borders.
Within South African politics itself, very few senior leaders have defended African solidarity consistently. Julius Malema, leader of the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), remains one of the rare major political figures openly positioning himself as a Pan-Africanist against xenophobia. While Malema remains controversial in many respects, his refusal to join anti-African populism sharply distinguishes him from much of the political mainstream.
At a time when anti-migrant rhetoric generates electoral support, defending African unity requires political courage. Most South African leaders have chosen caution, silence, or denial instead.
South African state must decide whether it stands for constitutional equality or for politically convenient exclusion
South Africa now faces a profound moral test. A country once rescued partly through African solidarity is increasingly turning against Africans. If the government continues tolerating anti-migrant vigilantism, dismissing xenophobia rhetorically, and allowing extremist mobilisation to grow, then the consequences will extend beyond domestic instability. South Africa risks isolating itself diplomatically from the very continent that once stood beside it during its darkest years.
No constitutional democracy can survive indefinitely while mobs perform selective enforcement in the streets. No government can credibly claim Pan-African values while fellow Africans live in fear under its watch. And no liberation history can excuse present injustice.
The South African state must decide whether it stands for constitutional equality or for politically convenient exclusion. At present, too many African migrants believe the answer is already visible in the streets of Johannesburg, Pretoria, and Gauteng.
