ZWELINZIMA VAVI

We have warned, repeatedly, that the levels of unemployment, poverty, inequality and corruption in this country are not sustainable.

Too often those warnings have been dismissed even mocked as alarmist. But the lived reality of millions of South Africans tells a different story.

You cannot have 12.4 million unemployed people, with 62% of the population surviving below R1,558 per month, and expect social stability. You cannot deepen the inequalities inherited from apartheid and colonialism and assume that patience will last forever.

There is anger in our communities, and it is justified. It is most visible among the youth, a generation trapped in unemployment and exclusion, drifting into substance abuse, violence and despair. A generation losing hope.

We saw a glimpse of what this anger can become in July 2021, after the arrest of former president Jacob Zuma. What unfolded was not simply unrest; it was an eruption of desperation. Lives were lost, businesses destroyed, jobs wiped out. For a brief moment, it forced a reckoning.

But that moment passed. We returned to business as usual. At the same time, the institutions that once gave direction to working-class anger have been weakened.

The trade union movement and broader civil society are not as strong, united, or rooted as they once were. This is partly the result of deindustrialisation and job losses, but also fragmentation, years of demobilisation and co-option.

Resistance has not disappeared. Across the country, communities continue to mobilise against housing shortages, water and electricity cut-offs, crime and gender-based violence, collapsing municipalities, and job losses.

But these struggles are increasingly fragmented and localised. And in that fragmentation, a vacuum has opened.

Into that space are stepping forces that do not unite but divide. The “new hero” emerging in some sections of the marginalised is not grounded in the traditions of the liberation struggle.

It is a figure rooted in tribal chauvinism, exclusion and anger. We hear chants that weaponise identity. We see groups arming themselves, patrolling communities, deciding who belongs and who does not.

They act as police. They act as immigration officers. They act as courts.

And far too often, they act with impunity. People are beaten in the streets. Shops are forced to close. Fear spreads. Yet consequences are rare. This lack of accountability emboldens further violence and normalises the idea that force not law determines belonging.

We have seen this before in our history. What is unfolding today echoes the past. There are disturbing signs of a return to crude forms of “classification,” where people are judged based on appearance, language or accent.

Those who “look foreign” are targeted. Those with darker pigmentation are singled out. This is not law enforcement. It is mob profiling. It is a regression into a politics we once fought to defeat.

None of this arises in a vacuum. It is rooted in poverty, unemployment and the continued marginalisation of the black majority. Government has correctly condemned attempts to deny migrants access to clinics, hospitals and schools. But condemnation alone is not enough.

There has been a failure to confront the deeper causes. Border management remains weak. Corruption at ports of entry has eroded trust. Home Affairs is under capacitated, with critical about 60% vacancies unfilled. These failures have fuelled both real pressures and public perceptions that the state has lost control.

At the same time, there are realities on the ground that cannot simply be wished away – an intense and vicious competition over resources and opportunities.

In parts of our cities in Durban, Pretoria and Johannesburg there are areas widely perceived to be dominated by foreign nationals. This creates tensions and feeds the belief that communities are being displaced or neglected.

Whether every perception is accurate or not is beside the point. Left unaddressed, they become fertile ground for resentment.

There is also a growing and widely held belief that in sectors such as restaurants, security and agriculture, employers prefer vulnerable and undocumented workers because they can be paid less and denied protections.

This is exploitation and it must be named as such.

But if the labour movement and the left avoid this issue, we leave it to be hijacked by reactionary forces. We cannot be indifferent to conditions in the labour market that undermine standards and fuel resentment.

The problem is not migrants. It is the logic of profit that exploits vulnerability.

But it must be confronted honestly. Instead of confronting exploitation, inequality and failed economic policies, anger is being redirected toward other victims.

This is how division takes root. This is how the working class is fractured. This is how those responsible escape accountability.

We must, however, avoid exaggeration. These vigilante and chauvinist formations are not yet mass movements. Their marches do not attract tens of thousands. Their numbers remain limited.

But their influence should not be underestimated. They are visible, bold, and operating in a vacuum. They are testing limits and shaping narratives. And if the underlying conditions remain unchanged, they can grow.

At the same time, the weakening of the ANC as a national unifying force must be confronted honestly.

For all its failures, this movement historically played a decisive role in uniting the African majority across ethnic and regional lines. It advanced non-racialism, non-sexism and a shared national consciousness.

That unifying role has not been replaced. Without such a force, the risks are real. SA’s unity was never automatic, it was built through struggle and leadership.

We have seen before how fragile that unity can be. The political violence in KwaZulu-Natal in the late 1980s and early 1990s claimed thousands of lives and spread further in Gauteng. It took leadership and political intervention to prevent a wider catastrophe.

Today, as that unifying thread weakens, there are signs of renewed ethnic mobilisation and fragmentation.

What we are facing is not simply a social crisis. It is a crisis of economic direction, political leadership and social cohesion.

Austerity has hollowed out the state. Corruption has diverted resources. Public services are deteriorating. As the state weakens, it is ordinary people who suffer first and most.

And when the state cannot mediate tensions, those tensions are expressed in more volatile and destructive ways.

We must hold a clear and balanced position. We must reject, xenophobia, tribal chauvinism, vigilantes and mob justice.

At the same time, we cannot be silent about failures in managing migration, exploitation in the labour market and the unsustainable pressures in our communities.

We need a capable, accountable state. We need enforcement of labour laws. We need an end to austerity and a rebuilding of public services.

Above all, we need to rebuild organised working-class power to unite fragmented struggles and give direction to justified anger.

SA is standing at a dangerous crossroads. The anger in society is real. The conditions producing it are worsening. The forces seeking to misdirect it are growing, even if still small.

If we fail to act honestly, decisively, and collectively that anger will not disappear.

It will be redirected, manipulated, and weaponised.

And the cost will be borne by those who are already carrying the heaviest burden.