The xenophobic violence we witnessed
recently across Gauteng tells us a great deal about ourselves.
Of course, in human rights terms the
violence and looting targeting non-South African shop owners is fundamentally unacceptable.
Beyond this, it is worth reflecting on the possible meanings of and the type of
thinking that informs this outbreak of violence and aggression.
Firstly, our communities seem to be in two
minds about ‘acceptance and rejection’ of the traders that hail from other
countries. At one level, the community gives many indications of acceptance,
ranging from opening accounts with traders, to renting shop space to opting to primarily
use these immigrant-run shops. Then, out of the blue during January and February
2015, scores of community members go on the rampage against these shops,
looting and vandalising.
Secondly, many among us seem confused about
formality and informality. On the one hand, many of us rely on and support
informality as a way of making a living. In our minds, not all informal
activity is illegal. In line with the World Bank and United Nations, we
acknowledge the livelihood opportunities that spring from the informal sector.
But then, when it suits us, we lambast foreign-owned spaza shop-owners
for not being registered – offering this as our justification for plundering
these stores.
Thirdly, we seem to be undecided about
whether we love or hate the prices and services we get from immigrant traders. We
toyi toyi and demand that immigrants who run the small township shops “get out”
- implying that life would be better with the old South African owned spaza
shops back. Some of us argue that it is unfair that such shops sell goods at
lower prices. But after the violence subsides, we line the streets and tell members
of the media a different story. We want the “friends” to return. We yearn for
their cheaper goods, their longer opening hours and the fact they seem to stock
many of the small things we need at short notice.
Fourthly, we seem to be schizophrenic in
our attitudes to townships. We rejected them as dormitory townships in which we
were forced to stay. We took up Oliver Tambo’s call that we move out of these
camps and start putting our stamp on other areas even as we continue community-building
in the locations. But, with the attacks on foreign spaza owners, we appear to
be asserting a jealous love of these townships. One clearly got the sense from
many Gauteng community members that they draw the line with "coming to
compete in our own backyard".
This looting and violence targeting
immigrant-owned shops raises questions about how we understand ourselves and
who we are. It raises questions about our own identity and issues of belonging – and points to confusion about how we want to respond to refugees that have
found a safe haven in South Africa. Are we decent people (with values about
society-building) or bullies who use thuggish behaviour to get our way… or a
mixture of both? Do we prefer speech and articulation (of things we feel) or do
we favour acting out in the form of aggressive and intimidating conduct? Are we ambiguous about human rights -- do we emphasize rights when we have to claim them for ourselves but forget about the responsibility we have to live out these rights in our relationships with other humans we come across in our daily lives.
We seem to be unsure about ourselves – as
indicated by our inconsistent responses.
In addition, although South Africans view
ourselves as proactive citizens able to engage to advance our own interests, we
are not – it seems – empowered and organised enough to speak to the spaza shop
owners or their association about issues that perturb us. Rather, we allow
anger to simmer for long periods and then surprise them by breaking into their
shops and helping ourselves to their stock. Do we not have confidence in our
ability to raise issues, assert our needs and then craft lasting solutions with
other stakeholders?
The violent attacks also tell us something
about the patterns of power and disempowerment. Power is often analysed
vertically – focusing on how power relations should be analysed between those
who are dominant and those who are forced into the role of the oppressed or
exploited. But the xenophobic attacks remind us that power should also be
analysed in terms of how it plays out horizontally.
In this regard, the xenophobic violence is
an expression of conflict between poor versus poor. In our communities, weighed
down by frustration and intractable economic problems, (in this case) we lash
out at the nearer target of people we consider the “other” but who can in no
way be described as wealthy and powerful. These targets are easier to reach, It
is much more difficult, and would take greater planning and organisation, to
confront the captains of industry and those who continue to ensure the
production and retail systems remain in the hands of a racially defined few.
Ngugi Wa Thiong'o wrote the book
Decolonising the Minds, a book that has wide application in post-colonial
Africa. If indeed we ‘decolonised our minds’, would responses in our
communities to developments around spaza shops be different? If indeed we were
able, through organisation, to make more meaningful interventions to change the
economic system, would we find other entry points for change?
Where are we headed, what are our
objectives (what do we really want?) – these are the questions that come to
haunt us in the wake of the unlawful and violent actions against non-South
African shop owners trading in townships.
Frank Meintjies
