Thirty years after the dawn of democracy, Johannesburg remains a city of profound contradictions.
In 1994, South Africa stood at the threshold of an era that promised equality, freedom and unity under the banner of democracy. The country’s first democratic elections saw the formal dismantling of apartheid – a system of institutionalised racial segregation that had oppressed millions of people for nearly half a century. The world watched in awe as Nelson Mandela cast his vote in South Africa’s first democratic elections, a momentous symbol of the country’s transition from apartheid to democracy.
Johannesburg, a city of gold and dreams, was at the heart of this new South Africa. It was a city meant to reflect the promise of equality, opportunity and freedom for all, including those people who sought refuge in its streets. But 30 years later, Johannesburg tells a more complex story.
Although democracy may have opened its arms to political freedom, it also incubated the rise of anti-immigrant sentiments and left economic divides not only unbridged but, in some cases, exacerbated. As the wealth gap widens, many South Africans are left asking why democracy has not resulted in fair economic distribution. This has led to socioeconomic upheaval and created fertile ground for the anti-immigrant movement in the heart of Johannesburg.
A history of migration
South Africa’s history with migration, both forced and voluntary, predates the advent of democracy. Under colonialism and apartheid, the country’s economy heavily relied on migrant labour from neighbouring countries like Mozambique, Malawi and Lesotho to fuel its mines and agricultural sectors. However, the legal framework of apartheid strictly regulated the movement of black South Africans and foreign workers, maintaining rigid social hierarchies.
With the end of apartheid in 1994, South Africa became a beacon of hope for many people across the continent. Neighbouring countries, having supported the anti-apartheid struggle, anticipated that the new South Africa would lead the charge in promoting pan-African unity and open its borders to fellow Africans seeking better opportunities. Indeed, South Africa has experienced a significant influx of immigrants, particularly from neighbouring countries in southern Africa.
The new government aimed to dismantle the socioeconomic structures that had marginalised most of the population. Economic instability, political turmoil and violence in countries like Zimbabwe, Mozambique and the Democratic Republic of the Congo have driven many of their citizens to seek refuge in South Africa, with Johannesburg being a primary destination.
The post-apartheid government embraced a more open immigration policy, reflecting its commitment to human rights. However, this liberal stance has not been without friction. Jo’burg’s urban environment has seen a rise in competition for jobs, housing and services, often leading to resentment among local communities towards immigrants.
Socioeconomic factors
Johannesburg’s skyline, dotted with high-rise buildings and cranes, suggests a city of unrelenting progress. Yet, beneath this glittering façade lies one of the most unequal cities in the world. The World Bank and various studies indicate that South Africa remains a highly unequal society. A significant portion of the population was denied access to economic possibilities because of apartheid policies and South Africa began the 1990s with already high levels of inequality. The Gini coefficient, a common measure of inequality, places South Africa among the most unequal countries globally, and nowhere is this divide more palpable than in Johannesburg. Wealthy suburbs like Sandton flourish, whereas townships and informal settlements such as Alexandra languish in poverty and neglect.Economic inequality in Johannesburg is not a new phenomenon. Still, the promise of democracy – with political freedom supposed to translate into economic opportunity – has failed many people. Thirty years later, democracy has not led to the mass reduction in inequality that so many people hoped for. South Africa’s high unemployment rate, particularly among the youth, has fuelled frustrations that are often misdirected towards immigrants. Many South Africans perceive immigrants as competitors for scarce resources and jobs. This perception is exacerbated by high levels of poverty and inequality, particularly in informal settlements.

As democracy stumbled in delivering economic equality, Johannesburg also became a beacon for migrants across Africa fleeing political instability, war and economic hardship. Zimbabweans, Nigerians, Somalis and Congolese, among others, arrived in the city in search of work and safety. They brought with them their entrepreneurial spirit, opening small businesses in the informal sector and contributing to the city’s vibrant culture.
But for many native South Africans living in poverty, these migrants became convenient scapegoats. As unemployment surged to more than 30% and service-delivery failed, accusations that foreigners were “stealing jobs” or “draining public resources” took root. Anti-immigrant sentiments morphed into violent outbreaks of xenophobia, most notably in 2008 and again in 2015. Johannesburg, the city meant to embody the dreams of a democratic South Africa, became the epicentre of anti-immigrant violence.

Perceptions of crime have significantly influenced anti-immigrant sentiment. A series of violent incidents involving immigrants have given rise to the stereotype that foreign nationals are responsible for crime in the city. Although studies indicate that crime is a multifaceted issue not limited to immigrant populations, these perceptions have been manipulated by politicians and media, deepening divisions.
Political rhetoric plays a crucial role in shaping public opinion on immigration. Political parties and leaders have used anti-immigrant rhetoric to galvanise support, portraying immigrants as a burden on social services and a threat to job security. This has led to waves of xenophobic violence, with Johannesburg witnessing several violent outbreaks against immigrant communities. This politicisation has further entrenched negative attitudes, undermining social cohesion.
The rise of movements like Operation Dudula – a vigilante group targeting foreign-owned businesses and calling for the mass deportation of immigrants – reflects how dangerous this scapegoating can become. Such movements frame the immigration issue in narrow, exclusionary terms, reducing it to a zero-sum game in which the presence of foreign nationals is directly correlated with the suffering of South Africans.
Politicians such as minister of sports, arts and culture Gayton McKenzie, the leader of the Patriotic Alliance, and former mayor of Johannesburg Herman Mashaba, who leads ActionSA, are among the politicians who promoted anti-immigrant rhetoric.
McKenzie has called for the enforcement of stricter immigration laws to control the influx of illegal immigrants. He believes that this would help to protect jobs for South Africans, particularly in impoverished communities. In turn, Mashaba emphasises the importance of adhering to the rule of law and has advocated for improved border security and better tracking of immigrants within the country.
Public policy specialist Dr Kagiso “TK” Pooe, says McKenzie and Mashaba have highlighted a problem that is often ignored. The South African government and some liberal-leaning publications have glossed over average South Africans discomfort with illegal migration. “What parties like Action SA, the Patriotic Alliance and the like did was address their long-ignored plea for redress on this matter,” he says.
In response to rising xenophobia, numerous civil society organisations have emerged in Johannesburg, advocating for immigrant rights and fostering dialogue between communities. Initiatives like the African Centre for Migration & Society have sought to document immigrants’ experiences and challenge negative stereotypes. These organisations play a vital role in promoting tolerance and understanding amid the ongoing challenges.
Thandi, who asked that only her first name be used, is a 28-year-old Malawian immigrant who arrived in Johannesburg two years ago, fleeing economic hardship and political instability in her home country. Lacking legal documentation, she found herself in a desperate situation, needing to support her family back home.
After weeks of searching for work, Thandi finally found a job at a local restaurant. However, the experience was far from what she had hoped. Her employer took advantage of her undocumented status, paying her significantly less than other employees and making her work long hours without breaks. “I was afraid to speak up,” Thandi recalls. “I needed the job, but I knew I was being treated unfairly.”
One day, Thandi fell ill and could not report to work. When she returned, her employer informed her that she would not be paid for the days she missed and threatened to report her to immigration authorities if she continued to cause “trouble”. Feeling powerless, she accepted the terms, enduring the harsh conditions for fear of losing her only source of income.
Thandi’s story highlights the vulnerability faced by many undocumented immigrants in Johannesburg. They often endure exploitation, fearing legal repercussions while striving for better lives. “I just wanted a chance to work and support my family,” Thandi says, emphasising the harsh reality of seeking opportunities in a challenging environment.
Democracy, capitalism and the divided city
Immigration to South Africa has been growing, with significant numbers of migrants moving for employment and education. However, there was a decline in migration during the covid-19 pandemic.
Anti-immigrant sentiment in Johannesburg is not only a fringe phenomenon: it has found resonance in political movements and everyday conversation.
One man, who prefers to remain anonymous, speaks honestly about his frustrations. “These foreigners come here and take what’s ours,” he says. “We don’t have enough jobs, houses or food, but they seem to have their own businesses and drive cars. Why should they get what we don’t have? This is our country.”
So, where does the blame lie? Has democracy failed Johannesburg, or has the city’s experiment with capitalism exacerbated the divide? The Human Sciences Research Council’s South African Social Attitudes survey found that only 48% South Africans were happy with democracy. Pooe believes there is a declining satisfaction with liberal democracy.
According to political analyst Dr Thandeka Dlamini, the blame should be shared. “Democracy in South Africa is a political achievement, but without economic transformation, it was never going to be enough,” she says. “The country has followed a neoliberal economic model that prioritises markets and profits, often at the expense of addressing deep-rooted inequalities. Democracy promised the people freedom, but it allowed capitalism to run rampant. The result is a divided society where the elite – both black and white – prosper, while the rest fight over scraps.”
Her words are echoed by migrant advocate and activist Musa Nkosi, who points out the irony in South Africa’s xenophobia. “Johannesburg was built on the backs of migrant labour – first from the rural parts of South Africa, and later from all over Africa,” Nkosi says. “To say that migrants are now the problem is not only false, but deeply hypocritical. The problem is the system that has failed to provide for everyone.”
A fresh wave of xenophobic tension now threatens to tear apart the fragile social fabric of South Africa’s largest city. Recently, in Soweto’s Naledi township, a tragic incident underscored how deeply these divides run. Five children, aged between 6 and 7, lost their lives after allegedly consuming snacks purchased from a local spaza shop. As news spread that the shop was operated by foreign nationals, rage and grief morphed into violence, reigniting simmering anti-immigrant sentiments.
“We’ve been complaining for a long time about the conditions in these shops,” says Zandile Tshabalala, a Naledi resident. “But no one listens. Now, children are dead. These foreign shops come here, sell us expired goods, and no one cares until something like this happens.”
For many people, the presence of foreign-owned spaza shops is symbolic of their broader economic exclusion. Many South Africans feel that migrants have cornered the informal retail market, while locals struggle to find jobs or open their own businesses. The economic frustration, coupled with poor regulation and governance, has turned foreign nationals into easy targets for displaced anger.
Amid the escalating crisis, the South African department of labour has weighed in, taking a balanced stance. The department has expressed concerns over the conditions in which many spaza shops operate, calling for stricter compliance with labour and health regulations. However, it has also emphasised that the violence and destruction of foreign-owned businesses are unlawful and counterproductive.
The tragedy in Naledi is a stark reminder of the fragile state of democracy in Johannesburg. Although the city has politically transformed over the past 30 years, it remains economically divided. Democracy in Johannesburg has undeniably brought political freedom, but it has failed to dismantle the economic disparities that plague its residents. The rise of anti-immigrant sentiments is an unfortunate byproduct of this failure, with migrants often bearing the brunt of frustration in a system that seems rigged against the poor.
FEATURE IMAGE: Immigrants residing in the informal settlement of Hillbrow gathered together. Photo: Sanele Sithetho
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