Opinions

Xenophobia: Do South Africa’s Attacks Give Credence to Botha’s Assertion?

Published

2 months ago

May 14, 2026

Charles Flames

159 Views

By Emeka Monye

In 1988, as international pressure against apartheid reached a crescendo, South Africa’s then State President Pieter Willem Botha allegedly declared that Black Africans lacked the capacity to govern themselves.

The statement, widely circulated but never verified in an official transcript, was stark: “Black people cannot rule themselves because they don’t have the brain and mental capacity to govern a society.

Give them guns, they would kill themselves; give them power, they will steal all the government money; give them independence and democracy, they will use it to promote tribalism, ethnicity, bigotry, hatred, killings and wars.”

A longer version of an alleged 1985 speech described Black people as “a symbol of poverty, mental inferiority, laziness and emotional incompetence.”

Botha was the architect of “reform apartheid” — a policy that eased some racial restrictions while entrenching white minority rule. He legalized interracial marriage, relaxed the Group Areas Act, and granted limited political rights to Coloured and Indian South Africans.

But he drew the line at Black majority rule, refusing to negotiate with the African National Congress or release Nelson Mandela for most of his tenure.

His words, whether authentic or apocryphal, reflected the ideological core of apartheid: that white minority rule was necessary because Black Africans were incapable of self-governance.

More than three decades after apartheid ended and South Africa became a democracy, that assertion has resurfaced in public discourse — not from white supremacists, but from some Africans reacting to a painful reality: the periodic eruption of xenophobic violence against fellow Africans in South Africa.

Since 2008, South Africa has witnessed repeated waves of attacks on African migrants. Shops owned by Nigerians, Somalis, Zimbabweans, and Mozambicans have been looted and burned. Foreign nationals have been beaten, killed, and displaced from townships.

In September 2019, mobs targeted foreign-owned businesses in Johannesburg and Pretoria, forcing hundreds to flee. In 2021 and again in 2023, similar violence flared in Durban and Gauteng, often justified by perpetrators as a response to unemployment and crime.

The victims are not Europeans or Asians. They are Africans — fellow members of the African Union, fellow signatories to the African Continental Free Trade Area, fellow citizens of a continent that preaches Pan-African solidarity.

The irony is bitter. A country that itself endured decades of racial exclusion now finds sections of its population directing similar exclusion toward other Black Africans.

This is the context in which Botha’s alleged statement is being recalled. For some commentators, the attacks are not just criminal acts.

They are seen as evidence of a deeper dysfunction — a failure of governance, social cohesion, and civic responsibility that extends beyond South Africa’s borders and into the broader African experience.

Africa is the world’s youngest continent, with 60 percent of its population under 25. It is also the richest in natural resources, holding 30 percent of the world’s mineral reserves and 65 percent of its arable land.

Yet it remains the least developed continent on nearly every index — from GDP per capita to healthcare, education, and infrastructure.

The reasons are complex and historical. Colonialism dismantled indigenous governance structures, imposed arbitrary borders, and created extractive economies designed to serve European powers.

Post-independence, many African states inherited weak institutions and were immediately confronted with Cold War proxy conflicts, debt burdens, and the challenge of nation-building across diverse ethnic groups.

The result has been a pattern of instability: civil wars in Liberia, Sierra Leone, Rwanda, and Sudan. Military coups in Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, and Guinea. Election rigging, corruption, and weak rule of law in numerous countries. Banditry and insurgency in the Sahel and North-East Nigeria.

These are not abstract problems. They have consequences — for economic development, for migration, and for the way Africans are perceived both at home and abroad.

South Africa has not been immune. Despite its advanced infrastructure and democratic institutions, it struggles with inequality, unemployment hovering above 30 percent, and high levels of violent crime. In this environment, foreign nationals often become scapegoats.

They are accused of taking jobs, running informal businesses without permits, and contributing to crime. The narrative is familiar: when institutions fail to deliver economic opportunity, blame is shifted to the outsider.

The core of Botha’s argument — and the uncomfortable question it raises today — is about institutions. Governance is not just about holding elections. It is about building systems that protect property rights, enforce contracts, deliver public services, and hold leaders accountable.

It is about a culture where the rule of law supersedes tribal loyalty, where constitutional authority is respected, and where citizens feel safe and included.

In many African countries, those institutions remain weak. Courts are slow or compromised. Police are under-resourced and often seen as predatory. Civil service is politicized. Corruption is normalized. When the state fails to provide security and economic opportunity, informal power structures — ethnic militias, vigilante groups, criminal gangs — fill the vacuum.

South Africa’s xenophobic attacks reveal the same deficit. The state has been slow to prosecute perpetrators. Political leaders have at times used anti-foreigner rhetoric for political gain.

Communities feel abandoned by law enforcement and take justice into their own hands. The result is a breakdown of social order that mirrors the instability seen in other parts of the continent.

To raise this question is not to endorse Botha’s racism. His worldview was rooted in white supremacy and designed to justify domination. History has disproven him in the most fundamental way: Black Africans have governed themselves since independence, building nations, universities, businesses, and cultural institutions.

Countries like Botswana, Rwanda, Ghana, and Mauritius have shown that stable governance and economic growth are possible in an African context.

But it is also true that self-governance has not delivered the prosperity and unity that early independence leaders like Kwame Nkrumah, Julius Nyerere, and Patrice Lumumba envisioned. Instead, many African states remain trapped in cycles of conflict and underdevelopment. The African Union’s Agenda 2063 speaks of a “peaceful and prosperous Africa,” but the reality on the ground often falls short.

The xenophobic attacks in South Africa force a difficult conversation. If Africans cannot protect other Africans within their own borders, what does that say about the project of African unity? If economic competition between Africans leads to violence rather than cooperation, how can the continent achieve meaningful integration under the African Continental Free Trade Area?

Botha’s assertion was meant to deny Africans agency. The proper response is not to accept it, but to confront the failures that give it superficial resonance.

That means African governments must do more to strengthen institutions, protect migrants, and address the economic grievances that fuel xenophobia.

It means civil society must challenge hate speech and promote a culture of tolerance. It means citizens must hold leaders accountable for delivering governance that works.

It also means rejecting the temptation to generalize. South Africa’s attacks do not represent all South Africans. Many South Africans have condemned the violence, sheltered foreign nationals, and called for solidarity.

Similarly, Africa’s governance challenges do not define all 54 countries on the continent. There are islands of stability and progress that offer a counter-narrative.

The real danger is silence — the refusal to acknowledge that something is broken. Africa cannot afford to normalize dysfunction or to dismiss criticism as neo-colonialism. Self-determination comes with responsibility: the responsibility to build societies that are just, safe, and prosperous for all who live within them, regardless of nationality.

Pieter Willem Botha’s words were born out of prejudice and intended to perpetuate oppression. They should be rejected for what they are — a justification for racial exclusion. Yet the recurring xenophobic violence in South Africa, and the broader governance challenges across Africa, demand honest reflection.

The path forward lies not in proving Botha right, but in proving him wrong through action. That means building institutions that work, economies that create opportunity, and societies that uphold the dignity of every person — African or otherwise. Until then, the question of Africa’s capacity to govern itself will remain open, not because of race, but because of the unfinished work of state-building.

Africa’s renaissance will not come from denying its problems. It will come from facing them, learning from them, and resolving to do better. That is the only answer worthy of the continent’s future.

Emeka Monye Is A Journalist

Related Topics:Credence to Botha’s Assertion Featured South Africa’s Attacks Xenophobia

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Opinions

Am I A Thief?

Sometimes, we think being a thief is only about taking what is not ours in obvious ways.

Published

6 days ago

June 24, 2026

OCHEFA

78 Views

One of our Sudanese brothers once shared a deeply touching story titled “Am I a Thief?”—and honestly, it’s not just a story… it’s a mirror to the soul.

He spoke of two moments that seemed small on the surface, yet carried profound weight.

He had traveled to Ireland for a medical exam. The fee was £309, but without change, he paid £310. It felt insignificant—just £1 extra. He completed his exams and eventually returned to Sudan, probably never thinking about it again.

But then… a letter arrived.

Inside was a check for £1, with a message that pierced deeper than the money itself:

“You made a mistake when paying your exam fees. The fee was £309, but you paid £310. This is your £1… we do not take more than what is rightfully ours.”

Pause for a moment and let that sink in…

The envelope, the stamp, the process—it all costs more than £1. Yet, integrity was not measured by cost, but by principle.

It wasn’t about the money. It was about doing what is right… even when no one is watching, even when it doesn’t “make sense.”

The second moment:

On his daily route between college and home, he would stop by a small grocery shop run by a woman and buy chocolate for 18 pence.

One day, he noticed something different. The same chocolate—same size, same quality—but now there were two prices: 18 pence and 20 pence.

Curious, he asked why.

She calmly explained:
“There were issues in Nigeria, where we get cocoa. Prices have gone up. The new stock is 20 pence, but the old one remains 18.”

He thought logically, like many of us would:
“Then people will only buy the 18 until it finishes, before moving to 20.”

She nodded, “Yes, I know.”

So he suggested what seemed like a “smart” solution:
“Why not mix them together and sell everything at 20? No one will know the difference.”

She leaned closer… lowered her voice… and asked a question that struck like lightning:

“Are you a thief??”

He was stunned. Speechless.

He walked away—but that question followed him… echoed within him… refused to let him go:

“Am I a thief??!!”

Sometimes, we think being a thief is only about taking what is not ours in obvious ways.

But this story challenges something deeper.

It asks:
What do we do with the little things?
The unnoticed moments?

The quiet opportunities to bend the truth… just a little?

Because integrity is not proven in grand gestures.

It is revealed in the smallest decisions—when profit is possible, when shortcuts are easy, when no one would ever know.

And perhaps the real question is not what others call us…but what our conscience whispers when we are alone.

Opinions

Democracy Still Struggling 33 Years After June 12, PDP Laments by Comrade Ini Ememobong

Published

3 weeks ago

June 12, 2026

Charles Flames

90 Views

As Nigerians commemorate Democracy Day, the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) has declared that three decades after the historic June 12, 1993 presidential election, democracy remains under severe threat in the country.

In a strongly worded press statement issued on Thursday, the PDP paid tribute to the freest and fairest election in Nigeria’s history and the sacrifices made by citizens who defended the people’s mandate.

The party recalled the remarkable enthusiasm displayed by Nigerians during the 1993 polls, when citizens transcended ethnic and religious fault lines to vote for national progress.

The statement, signed by Comrade Ini Ememobong, National Publicity Secretary of the PDP Interim National Working Committee, noted that undemocratic forces aborted the popular will, triggering a prolonged resistance that claimed many lives.

“Thirty-three years later, the lessons of June 12 ring out more resoundingly than ever,” the PDP said, urging the Federal Government to uphold democratic principles, guarantee civil rights including the right to peaceful assembly and protest, and protect the rights of the opposition.

The party also reminded the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) of its sacred duty to conduct elections with “transparent impartiality and unimpeachable fairness,” describing these as minimum standards rather than mere aspirations.

However, the PDP expressed deep disappointment over what it described as the current administration’s failure to learn from history.

“Reality check, however, provides damning evidence that under this APC-led Federal Government, the lessons of June 12 remain painfully unlearnt,” the statement read. “Today, of all days — a day set aside to honour the blood of democratic martyrs — peaceful protesters were teargassed and assaulted in Abuja.”

The party highlighted the case of activist Omoleye Sowore, who was reportedly injured and hospitalised while demanding the immediate release of schoolchildren and teachers held hostage in different parts of the country.

The PDP accused the Tinubu administration of prioritising “optics over action, propaganda over policy,” and living in “a dangerous utopian self-delusion,” thereby reducing Democracy Day to a mere historic remembrance instead of a celebration of democratic consolidation.

Looking ahead to the 2027 general elections, the opposition party called on all citizens to remain vigilant and unrelenting in their demand for genuine democratic consolidation.

“The sacrifices of the past must not be reduced to ceremonial memory. They must be active warnings that this country must never again travel the path of state-engineered anti-democratic actions,” the PDP warned.

Comrade Ini Ememobong, mnipr is the National Publicity Secretary, Interim National Working Committee of the Peoples Democratic Party.

Opinions

Nigeria Cannot Build Flood Resilience While Destroying Its Wetlands

The next 10 to 20 years are likely to bring even more dangerous combinations of intense rainfall, river flooding, urban flooding, and coastal flooding/erosion.

Published

3 weeks ago

June 11, 2026

OCHEFA

107 Views

By DrJoseph Onoja

Every rainy season in Nigeria now arrives with a familiar sense of anxiety. Roads disappear beneath floodwaters, homes are submerged, businesses are disrupted, and lives are displaced.

What was once considered a seasonal inconvenience has become a recurring national emergency.

But Nigeria’s flooding crisis is no longer simply about rain.It is the result of a dangerous collision between climate change, environmental degradation, and weak urban planning.

Climate change is intensifying rainfall patterns across Africa, but human activities like deforestation, wetland destruction, poor drainage systems, and uncontrolled development on floodplains are multiplying the scale of destruction.

The uncomfortable truth is this: flooding in Nigeria is becoming structural.

Climate change may trigger the rainfall, but environmental degradation determines whether rain becomes disaster.

Climate Change Is Intensifying the Risk

Scientific evidence continues to show that extreme rainfall events are becoming more intense across Africa.

According to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), both the frequency and intensity of heavy precipitation events are projected to increase as global warming accelerates.

In cities like Lagos, the impacts are already visible. Urban flooding has become more widespread, with both short-duration high-intensity rainfall and prolonged rainfall events increasing flood risks.

However, climate change alone does not explain the scale of devastation we are witnessing.

Ordinarily, heavy rainfall should not automatically become a disaster.

Healthy wetlands, functional drainage systems, protected floodplains, and well-planned urban infrastructure are designed to absorb and manage excess water.

” In Lagos, this issue is particularly critical. Water bodies, lagoons, creeks, and wetlands cover more than 62% of the state’s land area, while another significant portion remains seasonally flood prone.”

But when these natural and engineered systems fail or are deliberately compromised, communities become increasingly vulnerable.Nigeria’s flood challenge is therefore not only a climate issue. It is also a planning and governance issue.

Nigeria Is Destroying Its Natural Flood Defences

One of the most overlooked aspects of flood resilience in Nigeria is the role of nature itself.

Forests, wetlands, mangroves, and floodplains act as natural flood buffers. They absorb excess water, slow runoff, reduce erosion, and minimize flood peaks.

In many ways, they function as invisible infrastructure protecting communities from disaster.

Yet across Nigeria, these ecosystems are being degraded at alarming rates.

Deforestation reduces the soil’s ability to absorb water, increasing surface runoff and erosion. Sediments washed into drainage systems reduce their capacity and worsen urban flooding.

At the same time, wetlands and floodplains are increasingly being sandfilled and converted for construction and urban expansion.

The irony is embedded in the name itself: floodplains exist to absorb floods.

In Lagos, this issue is particularly critical. Water bodies, lagoons, creeks, and wetlands cover more than 62% of the state’s land area, while another significant portion remains seasonally flood prone.

When these ecosystems are filled, degraded, or built over, floodwater has fewer places to disperse safely. Instead, it ends up in homes, roads, and communities.

Wetlands are not vacant land waiting for development; they are natural infrastructure protecting cities from collapse.

The implications are enormous. Sensitive ecological areas such as the Lekki Conservation Centre continue to serve as natural buffers by receiving, retaining, and absorbing water from surrounding environments.

If such ecological buffers are lost to uncontrolled development, entire communities become significantly more exposed to flooding risks with attendant consequences for human health, livelihoods, wellbeing, infrastructure, and property.

Nigeria’s Adaptation Gap Is Growing

Nigeria is not standing completely still. There are signs of progress.

The Lagos Climate Adaptation and Resilience Plan identify dozens of adaptation projects and estimates financing needs between US$9 billion and US$16 billion by 2035.

This reflects increasing recognition that climate resilience must become a development priority.

But adaptation efforts are still not keeping pace with the speed of urban growth and climate risk.

Rapid urbanization, inadequate drainage systems, weak urban governance, and insufficient climate-resilient infrastructure continue to increase exposure across many Nigerian cities.

The next 10 to 20 years are likely to bring even more dangerous combinations of intense rainfall, river flooding, urban flooding, and coastal flooding/erosion.

Sea level rise will further worsen risks in low-lying coastal cities, especially Lagos.

Without urgent intervention, the economic, social, and environmental costs will continue to rise.

The cost of protecting ecosystems today is far lower than the cost of rebuilding cities tomorrow.

Nature-Based Solutions Must Become National Policy

Nigeria cannot engineer its way out of this crisis through concrete alone. Flood resilience requires a combination of infrastructure investment and ecological protection.

Nature-based solutions must become central to national and subnational climate adaptation strategies.

This means:

• Protecting and restoring forests, wetlands, mangroves, and floodplains

• Strengthening drainage and storm water systems

• Enforcing risk-sensitive urban planning regulations

• Preventing development on ecologically sensitive areas

• Improving solid waste management to prevent blocked drainage systems

• Investing in low-carbon and climate-resilient growth pathways.

These actions are not optional environmental luxuries. They are essential investments in public safety, economic stability, and national resilience.

The future of flood resilience in Nigeria will depend as much on ecological protection as on engineering.

A Defining Choice for Nigeria

Floods are no longer isolated disasters. They are warning signs. They reveal the growing consequences of ignoring environmental limits while cities expand faster than resilience systems can keep pace.

They expose the cost of treating ecosystems as expendable rather than essential.

Nigeria still has a choice. We can continue reacting to flood disasters after they occur, or we can invest in prevention, resilience, and nature-based infrastructure before the next crisis arrives.

Protecting Forests, wetlands, restoring degraded ecosystems, and strengthening climate adaptation systems are not simply environmental priorities.

They are national development imperatives.The future resilience of Nigeria’s cities may well depend on how seriously we take them today.

• Dr Joseph Onoja , a conservation scientist, is the Director – General of the Nigerian Conservation Foundation (NCF).