Xenophobia Is Un-African: South Africa Must Not Betray Africa’s Shared Destiny -By Isaac Asabor

For decades, South Africa occupied a unique place in the hearts of Africans. It was not merely another country on the continent; it was a symbol of resilience, courage, and the triumph of justice over institutionalized oppression. The defeat of apartheid was celebrated from Lagos to Nairobi, from Accra to Lusaka, and from Harare to Dakar. Across Africa, people danced because South Africa had finally become free.

That freedom, however, was not won in isolation. It was purchased with the sacrifices of millions of Africans beyond South Africa’s borders. Countries opened their doors to South African exiles. Governments committed scarce resources to the anti-apartheid struggle. Students organized protests. Workers boycotted apartheid products. Religious organizations prayed, advocated, and mobilized. Musicians like Sunny Okosun of blessed memory sang for South Africa.  The liberation of South Africa became Africa’s liberation.

It is therefore heartbreaking that the same country whose freedom inspired an entire continent has repeatedly become the stage for violent attacks against fellow Africans.

Xenophobia in South Africa is not merely a domestic security challenge. It is a moral crisis. It is a betrayal of history. More importantly, it is profoundly un-African.

Whenever images emerge of foreign-owned businesses being looted, homes destroyed, or innocent migrants chased through the streets simply because of their nationality, one cannot help but ask: What happened to Ubuntu?

Ubuntu remains one of Africa’s greatest philosophical gifts to humanity. It teaches that “I am because we are.” It recognizes that human beings are interconnected and that one’s humanity is affirmed through the humanity of others. It celebrates compassion over cruelty, hospitality over hostility, and solidarity over suspicion. Unfortunately, Xenophobia stands in direct opposition to every one of these values.

A person cannot genuinely embrace Ubuntu while simultaneously denying another African dignity because he or she was born across an artificial colonial border.

Indeed, the borders that divide African countries today were largely drawn during the colonial era without regard for ethnic groups, languages, or historical realities. Long before European powers partitioned Africa; Africans traded, married, migrated, and lived across territories with remarkable fluidity. Families existed across regions that later became separate countries. Communities interacted freely without passports or visas. Our ancestors understood something that modern politics sometimes forgets: Africa belongs to Africans. The irony becomes even more painful when one reflects on South Africa’s own history.

During apartheid, South African freedom fighters sought refuge throughout Africa. Countries such as Zambia, Tanzania, Angola, Mozambique, Nigeria, Ghana, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and many others became safe havens for those escaping racial persecution. Liberation movements operated from neighboring countries. Universities educated South African exiles. African governments contributed financially despite their own economic hardships.

Nigeria, in particular, played an extraordinary role. Ordinary Nigerians contributed to the South African Relief Fund. Schoolchildren donated money. Civil servants made voluntary contributions. The country nationalized British Petroleum’s assets and took other diplomatic measures because of the company’s links with apartheid South Africa. Nigerian musicians, journalists, activists, and political leaders consistently amplified the anti-apartheid cause.

Many other African nations made similar sacrifices. They did so not because they expected repayment, but because they believed that injustice against one African was injustice against all Africans.

How tragic, then, that decades after liberation, some of the descendants of those who benefited from continental solidarity now direct their anger against fellow Africans searching for opportunities.

This is not to deny the very real economic hardships confronting many South Africans. Unemployment remains stubbornly high. Poverty continues to affect millions. Crime poses serious challenges. Public services often struggle under immense pressure. Many citizens understandably feel frustrated by slow economic growth, inequality, corruption, and limited opportunities. These frustrations deserve attention. But frustration should never become an excuse for violence. The easier target is often the foreigner. The more difficult target is the structural problem.

Blaming migrants for unemployment may provide temporary emotional satisfaction, but it does not create jobs. Destroying immigrant-owned businesses does not reduce inflation. Attacking foreign workers does not improve education. Harassing African traders does not eliminate corruption.

Violence against migrants merely shifts public attention away from the deeper governance and economic issues that require genuine political solutions. Ironically, migrants frequently contribute positively to South Africa’s economy. Many establish businesses that employ local residents. Others work in sectors experiencing labor shortages. They pay rent, purchase goods, pay taxes where applicable, and stimulate local commerce. Their entrepreneurial activities often revive neighborhoods that might otherwise suffer economic decline.

Certainly, immigration management should be lawful and orderly. Every sovereign nation has the right to regulate its borders and enforce immigration laws. However, enforcing immigration laws is the responsibility of government institutions, not angry mobs. No society should tolerate vigilantism disguised as patriotism.

There is another danger that deserves equal attention. Every xenophobic attack damages South Africa’s international reputation. Investors observe social instability carefully. Tourists reconsider travel destinations where violence appears unpredictable. African businesses hesitate before expanding into environments where nationality could become a liability. Diplomatic relationships become strained when citizens of neighboring countries become repeated victims of violence.

Ultimately, South Africa risks isolating itself from the very continent whose markets, partnerships, and goodwill remain essential for its long-term prosperity.

The vision of Africa’s founding fathers points in a very different direction. Visionaries such as Kwame Nkrumah dreamed of an Africa united not merely by geography but by purpose. Julius Nyerere championed African solidarity. Nelson Mandela repeatedly reminded the world that freedom loses its meaning if it is enjoyed at the expense of others.

Mandela understood that liberation was never intended to produce new forms of exclusion. His struggle sought to affirm universal human dignity. Xenophobia mocks that legacy.

If Africa is to compete successfully in an increasingly interconnected world, its nations cannot afford to become enemies of one another. The African Continental Free Trade Area seeks to expand commerce across borders. Regional integration promises greater prosperity. Students increasingly pursue education across African universities. Professionals move between countries to share skills and innovation.

These aspirations require trust. Xenophobia destroys trust. Africa cannot build continental prosperity while simultaneously cultivating continental suspicion. The responsibility for reversing this dangerous trend belongs to everyone.

Governments must strengthen law enforcement against perpetrators of xenophobic violence while addressing the socioeconomic grievances that fuel resentment. Schools should teach not only national history but also Africa’s shared liberation story. Young South Africans deserve to know that their freedom was nurtured by countless sacrifices across the continent.

The media must avoid sensational narratives that portray migrants as convenient scapegoats. Instead, journalists should highlight stories of cooperation, shared success, and the positive contributions migrants make to society.

Religious institutions have an equally important role. Churches, mosques, and traditional leaders possess moral authority capable of reminding communities that compassion remains central to African civilization.

Civil society organizations should encourage dialogue between host communities and migrant populations, replacing suspicion with understanding and fear with familiarity.

Perhaps the greatest responsibility rests with ordinary Africans. Every individual must reject language that dehumanizes others based on nationality. Every citizen must refuse to participate in mob violence.

Every community must remember that today’s foreigner may have been yesterday’s liberator, or tomorrow’s rescuer.

History has a remarkable way of reminding nations that fortunes change. There was a time when South Africans desperately needed Africa. Tomorrow, circumstances may once again require continental solidarity. When that day comes, history will remember whether South Africa embraced Ubuntu or abandoned it.

Africa’s greatest strength has never been its minerals, oil, diamonds, or fertile land. Its greatest strength has always been its people. Not Nigerians. Not Zimbabweans. Not Ghanaians. Not Mozambicans. Not Congolese. Africans.

The continent’s future depends not on walls but on bridges, not on hatred but on humanity, not on suspicion but on solidarity. South Africa remains one of Africa’s greatest nations. Its democratic journey continues to inspire millions. Its people have demonstrated extraordinary resilience throughout history.

That is precisely why South Africa must rise above xenophobia. The continent expects more. History demands more. Ubuntu requires more. For in the end, xenophobia is not African. Ubuntu is.

And until that truth once again defines South Africa’s relationship with its fellow Africans, the dream of a truly united Africa will remain painfully incomplete.