In the 19th century, a man named Henry David Thoreau was born in Massachusetts in the US. In 1638, Massachusetts had become the first English colony to legalise slavery.
In that year, the ship Desire brought the first enslaved Africans to Boston, trading them for indigenous captives.
Slavery in the colony of Massachusetts was slightly distinct from the practice we often think about when speaking about the trans-Atlantic slave trade in that it was primarily domestic and for trades rather than large-scale plantations.
In a twist of irony, Massachusetts would also become one of the first states to abolish slavery in the 1780s after a series of landmark court battles and the adoption of the Massachusetts Constitution, which serves as the foundational blueprint for the US Constitution and established critical democratic frameworks such as the separation of powers and judicial review.
Being born in the state that would later become a major hub for the 19th century abolitionist movement shaped Thoreau’s politics, which are best reflected in his famous essay, Civil Disobedience, where he introduces a profound concept of “a majority of one”.
In it he states: “Any man more right than his neighbours constitutes a majority of one.” Thoreau was arguing that the one person who is on the right side of a question of justice counts for more than all the people who are on the wrong side of it.
He defines a majority of one as someone whose moral convictions are stronger than the majority opinion, and argues an individual whose belief they are right is inspired by virtuous principles and has a moral obligation to act on that belief, even if it means opposing the majority or the “authority”.
However, a majority of one is not simply about an individual’s belief in the correctness of their own ideas against those of the majority. Rather, it is about assuming the responsibility of forming such ideas on a foundation of moral principle, justice and equality.
Over the past few months, South Africa has seen a rising and increasingly violent anti-immigration wave. Recently, two Mozambican nationals were killed in a mob attack in Mossel Bay, and thousands of foreigners have been evacuated from the country.
The atmosphere has become extremely volatile, with protests across the country and demands for the deportation of immigrants, documented and undocumented.
In this climate, politicians, civil society leaders and general members of the public have normalised inflammatory rhetoric, even as some conceal it behind what sounds like reason on the surface.
Every failure of the democratic government — poverty, unemployment, crime and corruption — is being framed as a migration issue.
In this scapegoating of immigrants, the real issues at the core of our country’s problems — the persistent legacy of colonial and apartheid structures, poor governance, policy inconsistency and the glacial pace of economic transformation — are being minimised.
It is a narrative that serves the political elite, as they do not have to account for their failures, and one that comforts a debilitated population that is paying the price for these failures.
In this volatility, EFF leader Julius Malema has emerged as a voice of reason. His diagnosis of the problem and refusal to engage in politics of deflection, inconvenient though it may be for many, is admirable.
Malema knows his stance is going to lose the EFF votes at the upcoming local government elections. He knows the EFF is going to pay heavily for refusing to echo a widespread sentiment that many would be comfortable hearing.
But he continues to stand firmly in his convictions, determined to lose what he and some of us believe to be a just and moral battle. Malema, a leader who is deeply flawed, stands in this moment as what the abolitionist Thoreau profoundly described as “a majority of one”.
I believe unwaveringly that on this question, Malema is standing on the right side of history.
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