1 Introduction

Africa has generally been portrayed in international media as a continent of mass exodus to the Global North (McAuliffe & Kitimbo, 2018; Flahaux & De Haas, 2016). Statistics in existing literature, however, present a different picture about African migration. The majority of African migration actually occurs within the continent, and specifically intra-regionally: intra-African migration grew from 12.5 million in 2000 to 19.4 million in 2017 (United Nations (UN), 2018). On the continent, South Africa is the recipient of the highest number of African migrants (UN, 2018). Conflict in the East and Horn of Africa has led to 8.1 million internally displaced people, as well as 3.5 million refugees and asylum-seekers (International Organisation for Migration (IOM), 2020). Africa faces numerous security and governance challenges, and this exacerbates the poverty already faced by many other countries, and all these factors contribute to human mobility both within the continent as well as overseas (Kaziboni, 2019).

South Africa’s strong judicial system anchored in the rule of law and respect for human rights, as well as its comparatively better economy, makes it a preferred destination for many migrants on the continent (Chikalogwa, 2018; Moagi et al., 2018; Rugunanan, 2016; Adjai & Lazaridis, 2013a; Choane et al., 2011). Looking at South-to-South migration, in this chapter I investigate the consequences of intra-African migration, and particularly how xenophobia in the post-apartheid state is grounded in South Africa’s racist past. Legislation, statutes and policies instituted under apartheid saw black Africans reside in quasi-homogenous impoverished communities, both in rural and urban areas, in which violence was normalised, and against this backdrop, xenophobia was born.

There is a very fine line between racism and xenophobia. In this chapter, I argue that racism and xenophobia are two different phenomena and should be understood as such. The concept of “race” denotes a group of people with the same physical characteristics, such as skin, hair, and eye colour, and with, in some cases, notable cultural and social similarities. Given this description, racism can be defined as an attitude of prejudice, bias and intolerance between various racial groups – people who look physically different (Vorster, 2002). Racism has been used to legitimatise the unequal distribution of society’s resources, specifically, various forms of wealth, prestige and power (Vorster, 2002). Xenophobia, on the other hand, comes from two Greek words: xenos meaning stranger, and phobos meaning fear (Charman & Piper, 2012). Combined, the word means an intense dislike for, fear of or hatred of strangers. Xenophobia describes attitudes, prejudices and behaviours that reject, exclude and often vilify people based on the perception that they are outsiders or foreigners to a community, society or national identity (Pillay, 2017; Misago et al., 2015; International Labour Organisation (ILO) et al., 2001).

Racism denotes a racial hierarchy where one racial group is considered superior to another, whereas xenophobia is an acute sense of fear or hatred of others from another group (Pillay, 2017). Xenophobia targets people who are considered foreigners in a particular community, often irrespective of overt characteristics shared with locals (Yakushko, 2009). Whilst racists generally accept the presence of others and attempt to keep them subordinate, xenophobes tend to refuse to accept the presence of “other” outsiders in their communities, and this is predominantly because they are viewed as a threat (Pillay, 2017). In contemporary South Africa, racism is inexcusable to such an extent that people are held responsible for its perpetuation. Paradoxically, xenophobia does not rank high on the list of moral faults, and in some instances, open expressions of it can be supported (Bernasconi, 2014). This is, unfortunately, in contradiction to the South African constitution, which affords all people socio-economic rights that are deeply engrained in the fundamental right to dignity (Republic of South Africa (RSA), 1996).

There is extensive literature on xenophobia in South Africa which delves into its causes (Crush & Ramachandran, 2014; Charman & Piper, 2012; Choane et al., 2011; Everatt, 2011b; Dodson, 2010; Desai, 2008; Danso & McDonald, 2001; Dodson & Oelofse, 2000; Maharaj & Rajkumar, 1997). Whilst some proponents argue that xenophobia is a type of racism (Tafira, 2011; Vorster, 2002), others are of the opinion that xenophobia is a mutation of racism and argue that xenophobia is a shift from racism because it moves from notions of biological superiority to exclusion based on cultural and national difference (Adjai & Lazaridis, 2013a, b). Some scholars argue that xenophobia is a negative consequence of democracy and nationalism (Kwanga, 2016; Neocosmos, 2006, 2011; Desai, 2008; Nyamnjoh, 2006; Harris, 2001; Crush, 2000). Xenophobic experiences of migrants in different social spaces in South Africa have been documented (Vanyoro, 2019; Kaziboni, 2018; Moagi et al., 2018; Pineteh, 2017; Vandeyar & Vandeyar, 2017; Kang’ethe & Wotshela, 2016; Dodson, 2010; Nyamnjoh, 2010). Some scholars have argued for using religion as an avenue to counter xenophobia (Pillay, 2017; Kaunda, 2016). A lacuna in South-to-South migration literature and theory is the absence of literature on the apartheid roots of xenophobia in South Africa.

In view of the above, this chapter seeks to provide a comprehensive analysis that demonstrates how xenophobia is rooted in the legacy of South Africa’s apartheid and racist past. It is based on a conceptual and empirical review of books, journals, published articles and reports, as well as other credible sources on xenophobia and apartheid in South Africa. I addressed three main objectives in order to demonstrate the apartheid roots of xenophobia, and these were: (1) to unpack the separatist legacy of apartheid; (2) to analyse xenophobic violence in post-apartheid South Africa; and (3) to detail the manifestations of immigrant stereotypes in the “new” South Africa. From an analysis of the data, this chapter contributes to migration studies that immigrants in South Africa live in an era of “post-apartheid-apartheid”. I argue that whilst the “new” South Africa is founded on “[h]uman dignity, the achievement of equality and the advancement of human rights and freedoms” (RSA, 1996), immigrants still experience multiple forms of discrimination and oppression which manifest in covert and overt experiences of xenophobia, which can mirror the experience of racism by black people during apartheid.

2 The Separatist Legacy of Apartheid

Before 1994, black South Africans were not considered “citizens” in the country. Their movement during the early 1900s was governed by the Immigrants Regulation Act No. 22 of 1913, which defined them as “non-citizens” (Adjai & Lazaridis, 2013a). Even though the practice of racism in South Africa started in the seventeenth century, it was institutionalised in May 1948 when the National Party came to power with the vision of a South Africa “built around a new hierarchy with Afrikaner identity at the core” (Verwey & Quayle, 2012: 553). Racism was created and supported through government structures, the courts and the police (Verwey & Quayle, 2012), and maintained through violence.

Apartheid, as an ideology and a system, was introduced by Dutch-born Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, referred to as the “architect of apartheid” (Ally, 2005; Webster, 1998). The term “apartheid” is translated from Afrikaans, meaning apartness, by which it was meant that blacks and whites were to live separately. The Reservation of Separate Amenities Act No. 49 of 1953 enforced the racial segregation of all public spaces, except for public roads. This eliminated the possibility of any mixing in social environments amongst different racial groups. During this time, the “k-word” was used as a general nomenclature for blacks, in addition to being a racial slur (Mtose, 2011).

Beyond racism, South Africa also has a history of ethnocentrism in which ethnic groups privileged their linguistic, cultural, and geographical identities, often with hostility against others (Moagi et al., 2018). Through the Bantu Homelands Citizenship Act No. 26 of 1970, native black South Africans were considered citizens in “homelands”, or Bantustans, as per their ascribed ethnicity. Bantustans existed for Zulus, Xhosas, Sothos, Tswanas, Vendas, Pedis and Shangaans (see Bantu Authority Act No. 68 of 1951; Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act No. 46 of 1959). In urban areas, blacks were housed in urban townships also along ethnic lines (South African History Online (SAHO), 2015). This therefore meant that black communities were generally quasi-homogenous, as they generally only had a particular ethnic group.

The movement of black people was further managed by the Native Laws Amendment Act No. 54 of 1952, as they had to abide by influx control and the pass laws. Through this legislation, pass laws dictated that all blacks 16 years and over had to carry a pass book (a dompas) and failure to produce one upon request by the authorities would result in incarceration (Du Plessis, 2015). This document was similar to a conventional passport and contained biographical information such as a person’s names, their photograph, fingerprints, employment details and also an endorsement from the apartheid regime for the holder to carry out work in a specified area (Du Plessis, 2015).

In terms of accessing education, the apartheid Bantu Education Act No. 47 of 1953 enforced racially separated educational facilities. Further, blacks received schooling in ethnically defined schools in their residence area (SAHO, 2015). In the view of apartheid white supremacists, black education was supposed to create docile servants, and Bantu education was the means to attain that (Tomlin, 2016). Bantu schools were also plagued by human and physical resource deprivation, which contributed to the poor schooling environments and outcomes for black people. By 1993, the end of the apartheid era, vast inequalities in educational quality remained, effectively curtailing labour market success for many black people (Moses et al., 2017).

Pervasive in apartheid South African was a systemic use of violence by the state to maintain socio-political control (Marks & Andersson, 1990). Violence was by whites on blacks, and the apartheid state against any individual or entity opposing the system. The restriction of movement, as well as the institutionalised segregation, led to the disruption of the black African family during apartheid. Children of migrant workers, especially boys and young men, were often left unsupervised, and the lack of parental control led to them taking part in mischief, petty crime and gang violence (Delius & Glaser, 2002). In the homes, upon returning from work, men used violence to claim power and authority. This overly entrenched the use of violence and the normalisation thereof. Scholars such as William Gumede support this view and suggest that, historically, South Africans have used violence for different causes during colonialism and apartheid (Mahlokwane, 2018). Violence was used to resolve most minor conflicts; violence is associated with alcohol abuse and toxic masculinity (Charman & Piper, 2012; Harris, 2001).

Early manifestations of xenophobic violence were noted in the 1990s in areas where locals and immigrants resided. Historically, immigrants, whether unskilled or semi-skilled, generally established communities in the informal settlements in metros such as Johannesburg, Pretoria, Cape Town, and Durban. In 1990, locals burnt about 300 huts belonging to undocumented Mozambican immigrants in Hlaphekani near Giyani, in the Northern Transvaal, now Limpopo province (Choane et al., 2011; Solomon, 2003). Violence also occurred in the Western Cape province. Since the establishment of Imizamo Yethu (formerly Mizamoyethu), an informal settlement in Hout Bay, in 1991, tensions between locals and migrants were noted (Dodson & Oelofse, 2000). In 1993, locals in the area forcibly entered houses of Namibian migrants and removed their possessions to assert their non-belonging (Dodson & Oelofse, 2000). Combined, these accounts affirm how the use of violence in apartheid South Africa could have contributed to the expulsion of immigrants in communities shared with South Africans.

3 Xenophobic Violence in Post-apartheid South Africa

Xenophobic violence has continued to erupt in the “new” South Africa, which can be attributed to the use of violence in South Africa originating from apartheid. From December 1994 to January 1995, “Operation Buyelekhaya” (go back home) began in Alexandra, a township in the north of Johannesburg (Idehen & Osaghae, 2015; Choane et al., 2011; Steenkamp, 2009), where immigrants, mostly from Malawi, Zimbabwe and Mozambique, were forcibly ejected from the community (Idehen & Osaghae, 2015). In 2000, three immigrant vendors on board a train – a Mozambican and two Senegalese – were killed (Steenkamp, 2009; Solomon, 2003; Vale, 2002; Crush, 2000). They were chased on the train and escaped a carriage by going onto the roof of the moving vehicle. One fell off and was hit by another train, whilst the other two were electrocuted by the overhead electricity cables (Solomon, 2003).

The most brutal and violent xenophobic incidents documented in South Africa to date occurred between May and June in 2008. During these attacks, at least 62 people were killed (including about 21 believed to be South Africans), nearly 700 were injured, and thousands fled the country. Victims were mainly migrants from Mozambique, Somalia, and Zimbabwe (Hickel, 2014). At least 100,000 immigrants were displaced during this unrest (Kaunda, 2016; Pugh, 2014; Adjai & Lazaridis, 2013b; Charman & Piper, 2012; Steinberg, 2012; Everatt, 2011b; Tafira, 2011; Steenkamp, 2009; Consortium for Refugees and Migrants in South Africa (CoRMSA), 2008; Kapp, 2008). Amongst the deceased was a 35-year-old Mozambican national, Ernesto Alfabeto Nhamuave, who was beaten, stabbed and necklaced in Ramaphosa, an informal settlement east of Johannesburg. Necklacing is placing a gasoline or diesel-filled tyre around an individual’s neck and then setting it alight, burning them to death (Hickel, 2014). This heinous act has its roots in apartheid (Hickel, 2014), and was a prescribed way of dealing with societal deviants such as rapists, murderers and traitors (Ball, 1994).

The harrowing image of Nhamuave engulfed in flames has come to be known as “The Burning Man”, which is a symbol of the 2008 xenophobic violence (Vanyoro, 2019; Hickel, 2014). The South African government was short-sighted and lethargic in its response to the 2008 violence (Adjai & Lazaridis, 2013b; Everatt, 2011b; Kapp, 2008). For Nhamuave, justice was never served: his case was closed in 2015 (Tromp, 2015). Local inhabitants of Ramaphosa patrolled the locale making sure that it remained a “kwerekwere-free society” (Desai, 2008). Kwerekwere is a derogatory term that denotes how native South Africans consider other black Africans as strange, implying that their native languages have peculiar phonetic sounds (Moagi et al., 2018; Tafira, 2011, 2018; Pineteh, 2017; Vandeyar & Vandeyar, 2017; Idehen & Osaghae, 2015; Hickel, 2014; Everatt, 2011b; Steenkamp, 2009; Harris, 2002). The term also suggests that one is subhuman (Nyamnjoh, 2006), an “inferior scum of humanity” (Nyamnjoh, 2010). By framing their narratives around makwerekwere, locals lay the basis for claims of spatial ownership of South African territory (Pineteh, 2017). Makwerekwere are the “undeserving outsiders”, whilst South Africans are the “deserving citizens” (Nyamnjoh, 2010).

In a 2013 incident, Emidio Josias Macia, another Mozambican national, died at the hands of South African Police Service (SAPS) officials in the township of Daveyton, east of Johannesburg. He was tied to the back of a police vehicle and dragged, and he succumbed to the injuries he had sustained (Liang, 2015). In April 2015, another Mozambican national, Emmanuel Sithole, was attacked and killed in Alexandra, a day after the government assured that they would quell the xenophobic violence that had erupted in the area (Kaunda, 2016). In the same month, a nationwide attack on immigrants prompted several foreign governments to repatriate their citizens. These attacks were sparked by the inflammatory comments of the late Zulu monarch, King Goodwill Zwelithini (Mabera, 2017; Idehen & Osaghae, 2015). Seven people lost their lives, and more than 5,000 immigrants were displaced during the turmoil. The South African Human Rights Commission (SAHRC) cleared the Zulu King of hate speech, even though his words were “hurtful towards foreigners and could perpetuate discrimination” (Human Rights Watch (HRW), 2017).

In September 2019, riots and looting targeted shops owned by foreign nationals in Jeppestown and the Johannesburg central business district. Ten out of the 12 people killed in the violence were believed to be South Africans, and about 1000 foreign-owned business were attacked (HRW, 2019). The specific nature of such attacks, mostly directed at foreigners, impinges on the security of society and highlights the magnitude of violence in South Africa as a whole.

As posed by some commentators, it is quite intriguing to ask how South Africa could end institutionalised racism by the apartheid regime in the pursuit of democracy and democratic rights; and why xenophobia is a persistent problem (Choane et al., 2011). A view common in, and about, South Africa is that South Africans are xenophobic (Charman & Piper, 2012; Choane et al., 2011; Crush, 2000), and they generally harbour an acute anti-migrant sentiment (Gordon, 2016; Black et al., 2006; Crush & Pendleton, 2004). This attitude is often directed against African immigrants. This is supported by the fact that the South African government has generally accepted Afrophobia instead of xenophobia (Mabera, 2017). South Africa is viewed and classified as one of the most xenophobic countries in the world (Crush & Ramachandran, 2014). Underscoring the effects of violence across South African society, the IOM (2009: 10) infers that xenophobic attacks “should not be isolated from a more general history of violence in informal settlements and townships in South Africa”.

4 The Manifestation of Immigrant Stereotypes

Black African migrants have been negatively stereotyped. There is a plethora of literature that demonstrates that South Africans view immigrants as “illegal” “job stealers” who are “criminal” as well as “diseased”. Put succinctly, immigrants are “taking the jobs of locals, lowering wages, increasing crime and spreading diseases” (Maharaj & Rajkumar, 1997). Portraying black African immigrants them as such has condoned the perpetuation of violence against them in the post-apartheid landscape.

Irrespective of their documentation status, immigrants are generally viewed as “illegal”, implying that they are undocumented (Danso & McDonald, 2001; Dodson & Oelofse, 2000). Senior government ministers and officials have blamed “illegal immigrants” for placing strain on state resources or engaging in criminal activity (Choane et al., 2011; Dodson, 2010). Such a construction fails to appreciate the diversity of causal factors around why people move – some are refugees, others asylum seekers, migrants, or immigrants. In post-apartheid South Africa, the dompas has been reimagined, and foreigners must produce a valid visa. The visa is supported by the Immigration Act No. 13 of 2002, and failure to produce one upon request by the police or immigration officials can result in a person being taken to the Lindela Repatriation Centre (Kaziboni, 2018).

Immigrants are viewed as criminals. The former minister of Home Affairs, Mangosuthu Buthelezi, used the term “illegal” indiscriminately (Adjai & Lazaridis, 2013b). Buthelezi urged citizens to assist the South African Department of Home Affairs as well as the SAPS in the removal of “illegal aliens” from the Republic. Senior police officers were also noted to contribute to the “othering” of immigrants and politicisation of immigration as they labelled the majority of African immigrants as criminals. Then Senior Superintendent Johan Steyn stated that “90 percent of criminals who break into homes, commit armed robbery and rape the women are Zimbabweans” (Desai, 2008: 52). With such incriminating statements and perceptions, immigrants in South Africa have been negatively depicted, and this has led to them being viewed as responsible for the increase in crime in South Africa (Pineteh, 2017; Vandeyar & Vandeyar, 2017; Kwanga, 2016; Choane et al., 2011; Everatt, 2011b; Harris, 2002; Danso & McDonald, 2001). In the Africanisation of crime in South Africa, Nigerian nationals are stereotyped as drug dealers (especially as cocaine dealers) (Hickel, 2014; Harris, 2002; Danso & McDonald, 2001); Lesotho nationals as smuggling gold dust and copper wires (Danso & McDonald, 2001); and Mozambicans as being in a car-stealing ring (Danso & McDonald, 2001).

African immigrants have also been perceived as diseased or “bringing diseases” into South Africa (Mabera, 2017; Crush & Tawodzera, 2014; Charman & Piper, 2012; Choane et al., 2011; Roberts, 2009; Harris, 2002; Danso & McDonald, 2001; Dodson & Oelofse, 2000). They are viewed as hosts of diseases such as the human immunodeficiency viruses (HIV), and thus a physical threat to the country (Pineteh, 2017; Vandeyar & Vandeyar, 2017; Steenkamp, 2009; Harris, 2002). The Covid-19 pandemic has reignited the sentiment that African immigrants bring in Covid-19. In haste, the state spent R37 million erecting a border fence between Zimbabwe and South Africa (Hosken, 2020). Describing immigrants as diseased justifies their extermination in a latent way.

There is a widespread notion of immigrants being perceived as “job stealers” (Mabera, 2017; Pineteh, 2017; Vandeyar & Vandeyar, 2017; Hickel, 2014; Charman & Piper, 2012; Choane et al., 2011; Everatt, 2011a; Everatt, 2011b; Dodson, 2010; Steenkamp, 2009; Danso & McDonald, 2001). Immigrants offer their labour and services at cheaper rates, which is against the stipulations outlined by law, and this puts them at an unfair advantage over locals (Pineteh, 2017; Choane et al., 2011; Dodson & Oelofse, 2000). To a limited extent, this argument holds water, and this is not because employment is a zero-sum game, but because undocumented immigrants “unfairly compete” for lower-end jobs and are generally more willing to accept lower wages compared to citizens (Choane et al., 2011; Dodson, 2010). These are spurious claims that have plagued the media, and the problem is that no one knows certainly the overall impact of migration on the labour market in South Africa. This assumption that immigration contributes to the increasing unemployment rate in South African is uncritical, and it dismisses a growing body of research that argues that immigrants create jobs as well as compete for jobs in South Africa (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and the International Labour Organisation (ILO), 2018a, b; Danso & McDonald, 2001). In De Doorns, a small town located in the Cape Winelands, thousands of foreigners, mostly Zimbabwean migrants, were forced to abandon their homes because they were considered to have “stolen” seasonal jobs from locals (Choane et al., 2011). Through this, foreigners were also viewed as “parasites” taking jobs from South Africans (Vorster, 2002).

From taking jobs, there is a notion that they are “taking our women” (Everatt, 2011a), and another local accused “foreigners of stealing their women by wooing them with cash” (Hickel, 2014: 106). Some locals believed that immigrants were morally bankrupt, malicious and irresponsible as they “make babies with our sisters and then run away after that” (Everatt, 2011b: 27). In some cases, there are concerns that immigrants may marry South African women (Choane et al., 2011).

As a consequence of the above, immigrants have become targets of resentment, hostility, and verbal and physical abuse (Dodson & Oelofse, 2000). In formal work opportunities, migrants are discriminated against (Everatt, 2011b). Migrants experience medical xenophobia, which is a poor treatment that is a direct consequence of the patient being a non-South African (Crush & Tawodzera, 2014). In physical violence, African migrants experience robbery, rape and murder (Everatt, 2011b). In some cases mentioned above, people have been displaced, and others lost their lives (Choane et al., 2011; Everatt, 2011b), for example through necklacing like “The Burning Man”.

5 Conclusion: Criminalisation of Xenophobia?

After reviewing the literature on migration, racism and xenophobia, it is evident that South Africa’s apartheid and racist history laid a fertile ground in which the use of violence was born. Apartheid in praxis, as well as spatial planning, culminated in black people residing in indigent quasi-homogenous communities where violence was normalised. The earliest xenophobic incidents documented were before 1994, which contradicts arguments supporting a nationalist underpinning of the phenomenon. Xenophobic incidents have, however, increased since. The occurrence of xenophobic violence has been attributed to scape-goating on various levels; however, the sheer nature of violence is unfathomable.

Ideologically, xenophobia is different from racism. What ties the two forms of prejudice is that they manifest in a gross violation of human rights in their worst forms. As such, both have no place in the “new” South Africa and do not reflect the values of the South African constitution (1996), which emphasises the recognition of the fundamental human rights of all who live in South Africa (Choane et al., 2011). Like black people during apartheid, the victims of xenophobia are excluded, discriminated against and marginalised. In the worst cases, some have been beaten and others killed. African immigrants have been negatively stereotyped as “diseased”, “criminal”, “illegal” “job stealers”, and to this extent, this has provided an environment in which the violation of their rights has been condoned.

Furthermore, if it is racist to use the “k-word” in post-apartheid South Africa, why is the use of kwerekwere not xenophobic, since both terms are derogatory and are used to dehumanise and disempower? If perpetrators of racism, such as Vicki Momberg (see Southern African Legal Information Institute [SAFLII], 2019), in the “new” South Africa have been prosecuted, for using the racist “k-word”, then why can’t this happen for the use of kwerekwere, the xenophobic “k-word”?

It is, therefore, important for the state and policymakers to implement strategies of the re-humanisation of African immigrants, particularly in social studies, conflict resolution, peace education, and in the literature of non-profit and humanitarian organisations, as a way of redressing the xenophobia (Kaziboni, 2018: 50). Until policies and legislation that support the rights of immigrants, documented or not, are implemented, African immigrants in South Africa continue surviving in the era of “post-apartheid-apartheid”.