Nigeria has issued an urgent advisory to its citizens living in South Africa following a violent anti-foreigner march in Johannesburg that left several people injured and foreign-owned businesses looted and destroyed. The Nigerian government called on its nationals to exercise extreme caution and avoid areas where protests are taking place.
This is not a new story. That is precisely what makes it so devastating.
The march, organized under the banner of “Operation Dudula” and allied movements, targeted foreign nationals — particularly those from Nigeria, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and other African countries. Protesters accused immigrants of stealing jobs, driving up crime, and straining public services. The march began peacefully but quickly devolved into violence, with mobs attacking foreign-owned shops in Hillbrow, Johannesburg CBD, and parts of Soweto.
“We have received reports of attacks on Nigerian nationals and their properties,” Nigeria’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs said in a statement. “We urge all Nigerians in South Africa to remain vigilant and report any incidents to the nearest Nigerian mission.”
South African police confirmed multiple arrests but offered little assurance that the violence would not continue. It always continues. This is a cycle that South Africa has refused to break for more than two decades.
The history of xenophobic violence against African migrants in South Africa is long and bloody. In 2008, a wave of attacks killed more than 60 people and displaced tens of thousands. In 2015, another eruption of anti-foreigner violence swept through Durban and Johannesburg. In 2019, Nigerian-owned businesses were specifically targeted in attacks that sparked a diplomatic crisis between Abuja and Pretoria. Each time, South African leaders express regret. Each time, nothing fundamentally changes.
The pattern is grimly predictable. South Africa’s post-apartheid economy has failed to deliver for millions of its citizens. Unemployment hovers above 30 percent. Service delivery is abysmal. Corruption has hollowed out state institutions. Rather than direct their anger at the political class that has failed them, some South Africans have found it easier to blame foreigners — the oldest political trick in every nation’s book.
Politicians have been complicit. Some have openly stoked anti-immigrant sentiment for electoral gain. The rhetoric of movements like Operation Dudula — which frames African immigrants as invaders — has been normalized in mainstream political discourse. When leaders wink at xenophobia, violence is the inevitable result.
“South Africa, the country that the entire continent helped liberate from apartheid, now turns its fists against the very Africans who stood with it,” noted a Nigerian commentator on social media, in a post that went viral across the continent.
That observation cuts to the heart of the matter. During the anti-apartheid struggle, African nations sacrificed enormously for South Africa’s freedom. Nigeria, in particular, was one of the most vocal and generous supporters of the ANC. Nigerian oil revenues helped fund the liberation movement. Nigerian diplomats lobbied relentlessly at the United Nations. Nigerian citizens donated money they could not afford to give.
The reward for that solidarity? Nigerian nationals burned out of their homes and businesses on the streets of Johannesburg.
This is Africa’s greatest shame. The continent that speaks endlessly about pan-African unity, about the African Union, about Agenda 2063 and the African Continental Free Trade Area — this same continent cannot ensure that Africans are safe in fellow African countries. The grand rhetoric of continental solidarity collapses the moment it meets the reality of Hillbrow.
The African Union’s response to repeated waves of xenophobic violence in South Africa has been pathetically inadequate. Mild statements of concern. Calls for dialogue. No sanctions. No meaningful pressure. If a non-African country treated African migrants the way South Africa treats them, the AU would be in emergency session. Because it is African-on-African violence, the silence is maintained.
Nigeria’s government, too, has been criticized for not doing enough to protect its nationals abroad. Previous diplomatic crises with South Africa produced angry statements but little structural change. There are no bilateral agreements that meaningfully address the safety of migrants. Nigerian missions in South Africa are understaffed and under-resourced.
The uncomfortable truth is this: the pan-African project will remain a fantasy as long as Africans cannot move freely and safely within their own continent. Free trade agreements mean nothing if the traders are being chased through the streets with machetes. Integration frameworks are worthless if an Igbo businessman in Johannesburg lives in more fear than he would in London or New York.
South Africa must confront its xenophobia not as a law enforcement problem but as a moral crisis. And the rest of the continent must demand it — not with gentle diplomacy, but with the same urgency it brings to every other injustice.
The pan-African dream is not dying in a conference room. It is dying in the burning streets of Johannesburg, one attacked shop at a time.
