SANDISO MAHLALA | Anger must be directed at government failures, rather than foreign scapegoats

The Mabahambe marches expose a cruel and shameful side of SA’s public anger.

In town after town, foreign Africans have been harassed, threatened, displaced, and treated as if their lives and livelihoods are disposable, even though many came here seeking safety, work and dignity.

The phrase “Mabahambe”, meaning “they must leave”, has become a rallying cry for anti-immigrant mobilisation in parts of SA, with protesters demanding that undocumented migrants leave by a deadline and warning that foreign nationals are unwelcome.

In practice, that message has created fear far beyond the marches themselves, because many migrants interpret the threats as a signal that violence, looting or forced removal could follow.

Foreign workers have stayed home, shops have shut early and families have hidden or fled areas where protests were expected.

The result is not just political pressure, but a daily atmosphere of intimidation.

What makes the marches inhumane is not only the slogan but the way it is enforced on the ground.

Reports from recent unrest describe protesters marching with sticks and batons, foreign-owned businesses being targeted, and some migrants being looted out of their homes or shacks.

In Soweto, foreign nationals’ homes were reportedly looted, while in Thembisa and Benoni there were confrontations, stone-throwing and heavy police intervention.

In Durban, foreign nationals were forced to sleep on the street outside a home affairs office after fleeing their communities in fear.

These are not abstract policy debates, they are scenes of public humiliation and human vulnerability.

The current wave of hostility did not begin in a vacuum.

Earlier episodes of anti-foreigner unrest in SA have shown the same pattern: migrants accused of stealing jobs, blamed for crime, and then attacked or chased out of communities.

In 2015, tens of thousands marched in Johannesburg against xenophobic violence, underscoring how serious the problem had become even then.

In 2017, police used rubber bullets, teargas, and water cannon to break up anti-immigrant protests in Pretoria, while reports said angry mobs had already attacked Nigerians and looted shops belonging to Somalis and other migrants.

The current marches therefore feel less like isolated protests and more like a recurring national failure to protect the vulnerable.

A major reason foreign Africans are singled out is that they are often framed as convenient scapegoats for unemployment, poverty and crime.

Protest leaders have openly accused undocumented foreigners of taking jobs and worsening social problems, while some have also targeted migrants with papers, arguing that all should leave.

That logic is both misleading and dangerous, because it turns structural economic frustration into ethnic blame.

It also ignores the fact that many foreign nationals are themselves workers, tenants, traders and parents trying to survive in difficult conditions.

When public anger is redirected at people with the least power, the outcome is discrimination dressed up as protest.

The damage extends far beyond a single day of marching.

Families are uprooted, businesses are vandalised, workers lose income and children absorb the trauma of seeing adults hunted for their nationality.

Some landlords have reportedly evicted foreign tenants out of fear that buildings would be vandalised, a sign that intimidation spreads through whole communities.

Regional concern has also grown, with some African countries repatriating citizens who wanted to leave SA because of the threats.

This is how xenophobia becomes a social crisis: it breaks trust, tears neighbourhoods apart and stains the country’s moral standing.

At their core, the Mabahambe marches reveal a painful contradiction in SA’s democratic promise.

The country that once spoke so powerfully about human dignity and liberation is still struggling to protect foreigners from public hostility and mob justice.

Authorities have condemned attacks on foreigners and promised to handle migration lawfully, but condemnation alone does not shield people from intimidation on the street.

What foreign Africans experience is often not a debate about borders, but a lived reality of exclusion, fear and dehumanisation.

Until public anger is redirected toward jobs, policing, housing and service delivery rather than foreign scapegoats, these marches will remain a stain on the nation’s conscience.

Anti-immigrant scapegoating in SA is driven less by the actual presence of migrants than by a mix of economic frustration, weak governance, political messaging and social anxiety.

Research also shows that misinformation and exaggerated claims about foreign nationals often intensify these attitudes and turn them into public hostility.

High unemployment, poverty and inequality create a fertile environment for blame, especially in communities where people feel excluded from opportunity.

When jobs are scarce and living costs rise, foreign nationals are often treated as visible competitors rather than fellow residents trying to survive.

That frustration is real, but the blame is usually misdirected because immigrants are convenient targets for deeper structural failures.

Weak service delivery, corruption and inconsistent enforcement of immigration and labour rules often fuel public resentment.

When people see the state as unable to manage borders, create jobs or protect neighbourhoods, they may turn that anger toward migrants instead of institutions.

In that sense, scapegoating becomes a substitute for accountability.

Some political actors have amplified anti-immigrant narratives to mobilise supporters and gain attention.

This often involves presenting migrants as the source of unemployment, crime or overcrowding, even when evidence does not support those claims.

Such rhetoric can legitimise hostility and make xenophobia seem like common sense rather than prejudice.

Anti-immigrant scapegoating also draws strength from fear of difference and anxiety about changing neighbourhoods.

Foreign nationals are often marked as outsiders by language, accent, nationality or race, making them easy to isolate in tense communities.

Over time, repeated exposure to xenophobic narratives normalises the idea that “outsiders” are responsible for local hardship.

Digital platforms have intensified the problem by spreading false claims, edited videos and inflammatory posts about migrants.

Reports note that anti-immigrant messaging often relies on disinformation, selective statistics and emotional appeals to patriotism.

This matters because online narratives spill into streets, shaping how people talk, vote and protest.

The result is a cycle in which frustration is converted into fear, fear into blame, and blame into exclusion or violence.

Foreign Africans then become symbols of national stress rather than human beings with rights and vulnerabilities.

Breaking that cycle requires better governance, honest public messaging and local leadership that addresses poverty without turning neighbours into enemies.

Dr Sandiso Mahlala, Sol Plaatje University, Kimberley, head of department, economic and management sciences