The hashtag #SayNoToXenophobia has been trending again, a sinister dance that has had several waves in recent years, but in the streets of South Africa’s townships, the mobs are not typing — they are hunting. From the shattered windows of immigrant-owned shops in Soweto to the smouldering remains of 55 shacks torched in Mossel Bay, a brutal wave of anti-foreigner violence has swept across the Rainbow Nation. In recent weeks, vigilante groups linked to movements like March and March and Operation Dudula have gone door-to-door, dragging terrified families from their beds and demanding that foreign nationals leave immediately. “They just chased us away like dogs,” a Mozambican national who has lived in the country for 16 years told AFP. “That is unfair because, actually, I’m a human being.”
The death toll is rising. The World Health Organization’s Director-General, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, confirmed that five Ethiopian nationals and five Mozambicans have lost their lives. “It is profoundly heartbreaking to witness another surge of xenophobic violence in South Africa this week,” Ghebreyesus said. “To see South Africa turn to xenophobia is a tragic betrayal of the country’s struggle for independence and freedom.”
How did we get here? In the midst of this chaos, it is hard to imagine how one of the newest democracies in Africa could slump into such a pit of hate and wickedness against her brothers in Africa who fought for them. During the dark days of apartheid, many black South Africans were subjugated, and it was the rest of the continent that bled for their freedom. Now, the beneficiaries of that solidarity are stoning the children of their liberators.
The true test of character is what a man does when given liberty. This test the Southern African region’s most prosperous nation is failing woefully. The psychological whiplash is jarring. Could they have forgotten so quickly about their history? Or have they been teaching another history that excludes the part played by others in their liberation?
The data suggests this is not merely the work of a few “criminals,” as the government often claims. It is a national consensus of suspicion. According to the GovDem Survey of 2025, distrust of African immigrants in South Africa has surged past 73% — up more than 10 percentage points in just four years. Among unemployed South Africans, a staggering 77.3% distrust foreigners. The roots of the crisis are not xenophobia but governance failures; South Africa’s official unemployment rate hovers around 32%, and for young black South Africans, it exceeds 45%.
So massive and heated is the discourse that, from some other African countries, South Africa looks like one big reality TV show — a society caught up in a desperate inner psychological battle. Once again, the authorities resort to old explanations. Addressing the nation, President Cyril Ramaphosa insisted, “We know that South Africans are not xenophobic.” He warned against misinformation while simultaneously trying to distance the state from the violence, stating that acts of lawlessness do not “reflect government policy.”
Yet the bodies on the ground tell a different story. The Mozambique government has confirmed that five of its citizens were killed as a direct consequence of the attacks. Over 300 Mozambicans have already fled back across the border. The Malawi government has repatriated 150 of its nationals, while Ghana has flown home nearly 300 citizens. Nigeria has postponed flights for hundreds more as it scrambles to protect its people. As a result, South African artists are now paying the price; the continent is retaliating by cancelling performances and gigs for South African musicians in a spreading economic backlash.
The consequences now extend to the sporting arena, where South African teams are experiencing the full weight of continental rejection at the ongoing World Cup. From other African nations, these teams face a hostile reception, frosty crowds, and the looming threat of diplomatic boycotts. This cold welcome is a bitter taste of the hatred South Africa has exported to its neighbours. The very nations whose citizens have been murdered and hounded from their homes now watch South African athletes with suspicion and resentment. It is a stark irony: while South African sportsmen and women compete on the continental stage, their compatriots back home are forcing foreign players out of local leagues. The solidarity that should unite African nations in sporting glory has been fractured by the violence in the townships. South African teams now carry not just the weight of competition but the stigma of a nation that has turned its back on pan-African brotherhood.
The dance of ingratitude has severe consequences. The chaos risks weakening the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) — a framework meant to unite the continent commercially, which depends entirely on trust and the free movement of people. “The people they manhandled must be compensated,” said Ghanaian MP Cletus Seidu Dapilah, calling on the African Union to impose sanctions. “The AU must be able to bite as far as this matter is concerned. There is too much lawlessness in South Africa, and it cannot be condoned.”
Many good people have been taken from us in South Africa, murdered in a horrific fashion. If we could ask them now how they would like us to commemorate their untimely deaths, they would say: come together, sisters and brothers, over our tragedy. Let’s not disappoint them.
At this critical point, it is time to look to the African Union for direction. It is expected to come up with a clear policy regarding how foreigners should be handled. Necessary sanctions should be laid out against erring nations — just as we saw in Libya, where fellow black Africans were sold as slaves — to ensure that hatred is met with consequences.
Those who fight for freedom must never become the tyrants they once fled. But in the townships of South Africa today, a dark irony has taken hold: a nation born from the struggle against being treated as “outsiders” is now murdering its neighbours for the same crime. The continent has not forgotten who stood with Mandela. South Africa would do well to remember that the hand that helped it rise can also lift its support — or withdraw it entirely.
By: Allen Durueke
(Ripples)
