By Adonis Byemelwa
Xenophobic violence in South Africa is cyclical, combustible, and deeply rooted in structural inequalities dating back to the democratic transition; it is far from a new phenomenon. Major flashpoints such as the 2008 South African xenophobic attacks exposed how quickly underlying economic tensions can escalate into widespread, targeted violence.
A similar pattern resurfaced during the 2015 South African xenophobic attacks, where frustrations over inequality and limited opportunities again turned outward. The current wave, amplified by viral videos, follows this same trajectory: public anger over jobs, service delivery, and economic exclusion is redirected toward foreign Africans, repeating a dangerous and familiar cycle.
At its very heart, xenophobia in South Africa has nothing to do with foreigners per se, but everything to do with scarcity and inequality, as well as shortcomings in governance.
The entrenched unemployment rate, especially the youth unemployment rate, gives pervasive volatility for competition in the informal economy; it becomes visible and personal.
Migrant small businesses, small but resilient, are always easy targets for scapegoaters seeking a shiny example of exclusion when the actual prisons of the economy loom larger.
It is into this fraught context that Julius Malema, leader of the Economic Freedom Fighters, stepped. His recent comments, immortalised in a YouTube video circulating widely, were a direct challenge to the dominant wave of anti-immigrant rhetoric. Malema, as ever blunt in speech, turned the debate from blame to output. He implored South Africans to face the economic realities of how productive they were (not so!!) instead of looking for a scapegoat, such as the Chinese or Mexicans.
You say foreigners are taking your jobs, but how many new jobs have you created after closing many businesses? In a clip that has circulated online, he asked: “The question hits home, for it reveals an inconsistency, the annihilation of economic activity cannot possibly create jobs.” Not just a critique of violence, but of the underlying thinking.
Malema went further, honing the economic reasoning into a moral condemnation. You shut down a place where five people worked and say you are saving jobs. However, where are the new jobs after you closed it down? It is a simple, almost deceptively so, argument, which is what makes it able to disarm the populism of feeling with hard numbers.
One reason his intervention is politically important is that Malema is not a dispassionate bystander. He is a radical economist and an important opposition figure who rejects xenophobia, thereby standing out against actors who implicitly or explicitly utilise anti-foreigner sentiments. This, he says, is an attempt to root his politics in a form of pan-African solidarity while maintaining a critical eye on domestic inequality.
However, while Malema is fully correct in this part of his argument, it does not withstand cross-examination. His framing is at risk of presenting a black-and-white account, undermining the lived experiences of millions of South Africans who feel economically disenfranchised.
To the side, in industries dominated by migrants engaged in informal trade, there is real, though misdirected, tension. The worst thing is to reject these perceptions altogether, because it risks making his critique seem like an offhand dismissal to people who feel shut out of opportunity.
Analysis goes beyond moral clarity, even before it gets to the question of what constitutes layered structural complexity. Migration is not the reason for South Africa’s unemployment crisis, slow growth, a skills mismatch and structural inequality are.
While Malema is correct to say violence is no answer, he would make a stronger case if he laid out routes to job creation that do not hinge on mere rhetorical challenges.
The political side of this meritocracy merits interrogation as well. Malema has developed his political persona as the leader of the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) opposition party by challenging economic inequality and injustice.
He may effectively reject xenophobia for principled Pan-Africanism, but he also makes a strategic distinction in an electoral context where the migration issue is increasingly being weaponised.
Crucially, Malema is not the only one condemning xenophobic violence. Some leaders, like Cyril Ramaphosa, have condemned attacks on foreign nationals and continue to reiterate that these attacks threaten South Africa’s constitutional values and international reputation. African Union officials received similar warnings: Such violence was at odds with the goals of unity and unfettered movement.
Similarly, civil society voices have been consistent. Reports from bodies such as Amnesty International have highlighted the human cost of xenophobia, showing how migrants are met with not only violence but also institutionalised discrimination. These views corroborate Malema’s fundamental point: that punishing the most impoverished does not address the endemic economic challenges.
Nevertheless, a careful analysis must recognise that not all economic activity by migrants is frictionless. Under these conditions, tensions between local and foreign traders over the scale of appropriations can soar, especially if enforcement is uneven. That does not justify violence, of course, but it stresses the need to reduce corruption and misgovernance through better institutions, clearer rules, and more inclusive economic strategy.
Thus, Malema’s rhetoric works best as a provocation rather than a full-fledged panacea. He compels a fundamental shift in perspective, from blaming the outside to questioning internal capability. However, the deeper challenge remains: how to turn that change into policies that genuinely broaden opportunity for everyone, without stoking division.
The larger lesson is that xenophobia fills the void of states unable to mediate economic pressure and social rivalry. Where institutions are fragile and inequality extreme, exclusionary narratives are on the rise. Tackling xenophobia, therefore, calls not just for denunciation but also for serious economic reform, job creation, and inclusive growth.
In that regard, Malema’s inflammatory musings hit home because they reveal a reality: destroying what little economic activity there is only makes the lack more dire. His challenge: “Created how many jobs?” It is not merely rhetorical; it is diagnostic. It signals a crisis of productivity, participation and policy agenda more broadly.
At the end of the day, it is not about migrant’s vs citizens; it is about whether South Africa can build an economy that works for both. Supported by the dissemination of his intervention on digital platforms such as YouTube, Malema has given that conversation an urgency. Doing so requires less rhetoric and more leaders who translate critique into credible solutions.
