South Africa has always been a complex place, representing a mosaic of kingdoms, communities, languages, migrations, memories, and eras. Before provinces were established, people moved freely, traded, married, worked, and built lives on the continent, whose borders were drawn long after its inhabitants had found each other.
Xenophobia and proponents of superiority demand that this multifaceted nature be forgotten, attempting to portray South Africa as pure, unchanging, and easily defensible from the outside world. However, such a South Africa never existed in its cuisine, music, languages, beliefs, struggles, or even families. The nation is not weakened by its differences; it becomes possible because of them.
Every Mandela Day serves as a reminder of this. People reference Nelson Mandela and speak of Ubuntu, spending 67 minutes helping others and doing good. It is a celebration of the idea that democracy was born not only from political victory but also from the conviction that a country divided by disagreements can choose humanity.
Yet, in the context of celebrating Mandela Day, a deeper question arises: who do we include in the definition of 'us'? Society has become very adept at recognizing injustice directed against us. The memory of apartheid, forced removals, and humiliation by pass laws is central to national identity and must be.
Nevertheless, memory becomes dangerous when it teaches us only to recognize our own pain while ignoring the pain of others. As a nation born from resistance to exclusion, we ourselves are increasingly normalizing that exclusion. We passionately speak of human rights while these rights belong only to those holding passports from Zimbabwe, Malawi, Congo, Somalia, Ethiopia, Nigeria, or Mozambique. When South Africans seek opportunities in London, Perth, Toronto, Dubai, Oakland, or parts of the US, it is called ambition, survival, or the search for a better life. But when Africans cross our borders seeking the same, too many call it an invasion, which is deeply unfair.
We understand movement perfectly well when it comes to our children leaving, and we understand fear when our families seek safety. We understand dignity when we want it recognized in another country. Our imagination works flawlessly when the migrant is one of our own. It simply glitches at the border. However, people have always moved. Long before passports, permits, and immigration queues, movement shaped this region. Labor migration supported the mining economy, and regional mobility built cities, industries, and communities.
During apartheid, South Africans found refuge across Africa, as neighboring countries chose solidarity over suspicion, opening their doors when our country closed its humanity. This history should not only be remembered on Mandela Day; it should trouble us. A person arriving today seeking work, safety, or opportunity is not so different from a South African who will leave tomorrow seeking the same.
This does not mean, however, that South Africa should abandon immigration legislation. A serious debate does not require this. Citizens have every right to expect safe borders, fair procedures, proper documentation, effective public services, and an accountable state. However, xenophobia is not immigration policy; it is a political failure that seeks a human face onto which blame can be placed.
This mechanism of accusation tells the unemployed South African that the migrant is responsible for the lack of jobs. It tells the struggling parent that the foreign shopkeeper is responsible for high food prices. It tells the angry community that everything will be easier if 'they' disappear. This is a lie. The migrant did not collapse the municipality. The migrant did not steal the school infrastructure budget. The migrant did not design the economy that leaves millions of people outside the promise of work. The migrant did not turn corruption into a national sport. The migrant often stands in the same queue as the citizen, waiting for a state that has let down them both.
Therefore, xenophobia is extremely useful to those who benefit from our misdirected anger. It gives the poor someone even poorer to fight. It gives the excluded someone even more excluded to reject. It turns neighbors into enemies while the true architects of despair remain untouched.
And yet, this country continues to show us another possibility. Look closely, and you will see it everywhere. At the bus station where languages mix before dawn; in the spaza shop where credit is given until payday; in the church where Congolese songs meet the Xhosa hymn; in the classroom where children with different surnames share one lunchbox; in the hospital queue where suffering does not first ask for a passport; at the workplace where accents may differ, but fatigue sounds the same.
This is also South Africa. Not a fantasy of purity, but the reality of entanglement. We are Zulu, Xhosa, Afrikaans, Venda, Tswana, Indians, Coloureds, English, Sotho, Tsonga, Ndebele, and Pedi. We are Muslims, Christians, Hindus, Jews, atheists, and seekers. We are rural and urban, rich and poor, disabled and able-bodied, citizens and newcomers.
We are united not because we are the same. We are united because we repeatedly decided that differences would not be our end. This is the South Africa worth defending.
Mandela Day should not turn into a ritual where we praise values in the morning and discard them in the evening. It should ask: are we truly saying what we say? Do we believe in dignity only when it is safe? Do we believe in Ubuntu only when it is familiar? Do we believe in belonging only when it is convenient?
Because here is the uncomfortable truth: the world watches how we treat those who come to us. And some South Africans are also asking this same world to acknowledge their fears, protect their dignity, and open its doors to them. If we hope strangers will do this for us abroad, isn't it unwise to ask what kind of strangers we ourselves are becoming at home?
South Africa is great not despite its diversity, but because of it. And if Mandela Day is to mean more than 67 minutes of public kindness, it must remind us that Ubuntu cannot stop at the border. It must accompany us in line, in the clinic, at work, in the classroom, at the polling station, and in the neighborhood. Because the true measure of our democracy lies not in how warmly we remember Mandela, but in how honestly we recognize each other.
As the International Day of Nelson Mandela approaches in South Africa, a global theme has prompted young citizens of the country to consider whether the state aligns with the values of its first democratic president.
Although many believe that Nelson Mandela's vision, based on equality, justice, and human dignity, continues to inspire hope, they also note that corruption, unemployment, inequality, and social stratification remain serious obstacles to realizing the South Africa he envisioned.
Pharmacist Aisha Adams, 24, emphasized that Mandela's legacy cannot be separated from current discussions about migration, healthcare, justice, and economic inequality. She recalled that before Nelson Mandela became a symbol, he was a political prisoner, spending over 27 years in prison under apartheid.
Adams believes that South Africa risks repeating patterns of exclusion by using vulnerable groups as scapegoats for systemic failures. She criticized the government's approach to illegal immigration, arguing that the state often masks systemic problems by incarcerating people.
According to her, state bodies use statistics on the detention of foreign nationals to create the impression that they are responsible for crime. Adams cited an example that only 11–15% of the 27,880 foreign nationals in prisons are convicted, while the majority are under investigation or detained on documentation-related cases, not violent crime.
She noted that the prison system is overcrowded, having become a 'waiting room' for policies the state failed to develop and implement. Furthermore, Adams objected to attempts to blame migrants for healthcare system problems, stating that a hospital is not a border post, and a medical worker is not an immigration control officer.
Drawing on her experience as a pharmacist, Adams explained that the shortage of medicines is related to complex procurement and supply chain issues, not the presence of foreigners. She also insisted that the unemployment crisis is a structural economic problem caused by the state's inability to integrate skilled professionals into decent formal employment.
Adams warned against political narratives that divide vulnerable communities, leaving deep governance issues unresolved. She quoted Mandela, saying that 'the truth is we are not yet free; we have just achieved the freedom to be free,' and stressed that the legacy must be demonstrated by a willingness to confront the truth, even if lies offer a false enemy.
Tashmeer Shetty, a drama student, believes Mandela's ideals are relevant but not yet fully realized, pointing out that the current state of the nation is far from Mandela's legacy due to prejudice and inequality. He noted the need for accountability amid corruption and failed policies, remaining optimistic because of those who practice Mandela's philosophy.
Journalist Riley Singh believes that South Africa has moved away from Mandela's egalitarian vision. He stated that the ideal South Africa after 1994 should not have had a poor black population attacking each other or a kleptocratic government. Singh links growing public discontent to deep economic inequality, which he believes fuels hostility towards migrants.
Ashlyn Allan, a social activist and teacher, believes that Mandela's legacy should be judged by daily actions, not just annual commemorative events. He emphasized that Mandela's values—unity, equality, justice, forgiveness, and service—remain the foundation for a better South Africa, but acknowledged that the country still lags due to corruption, unemployment, and tensions surrounding immigration.
He called on young South Africans to honor Mandela's legacy through personal responsibility, honesty, compassion, and community service, asserting that true change begins with each one of us.
South Africa consistently supports the idea of a united Africa, once envisioned by the country's founder and global icon Nelson Mandela. Mandela dreamed of a unified Africa capable of overcoming common challenges and realizing its vast potential through joint action. He emphasized that continental development is impossible through the actions of individual nations.
The principle of unity has guided South Africa's activities since the dawn of democracy. The country strives to strengthen cooperation on the continent and raise Africa's voice on the world stage, advocating not only for unity but also creating institutions and partnerships to realize it.
Through the African Union and the United Nations, South Africa participates in peacekeeping missions, conflict mediation, and post-conflict reconstruction. Significant interventions in Burundi, Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of Congo have contributed to stabilization and the creation of conditions for sustainable development.
Concurrently, South Africa utilizes its presence in global platforms such as the G20, G7, BRICS, and the UN to shift discussions that often exclude the African perspective. The country actively promotes reforms of international financial institutions, improved access to development finance, and debt relief, thereby helping Africa become an influential voice in shaping a more equitable world order.
Beyond diplomatic efforts, South Africa's most significant contribution lies in supporting continental economic integration. The African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) offers an unprecedented opportunity to create the world's largest free trade zone, uniting over 1.3 billion people with a combined GDP exceeding $3.4 trillion.
South Africa is one of the largest sources of foreign direct investment on the continent, with South African companies playing a vital role in banking, telecommunications, retail, mining, energy, manufacturing, and logistics sectors. These investments stimulate economic growth in host countries by creating jobs, transferring skills and technology, expanding access to financial and communication services, and strengthening local supply chains.
Under AfCFTA, South Africa also helps reduce non-tariff barriers hindering intra-African trade. By simplifying market access requirements and reducing administrative costs, the country creates a more favorable environment for goods from other African countries in the South African market, which promotes increased trade, industrialization, and the development of regional value chains.
At a more local level, South Africa's partnerships with neighboring states deepen regional integration. A recent state visit to Mozambique strengthened cooperation in trade, infrastructure, and energy, building on the successes of the Maputo Corridor. Cooperation with Botswana has also reinforced economic ties within the Southern African Development Community (SADC) and the Southern African Customs Union (SACU).
Within SADC and SACU, South Africa promotes an industrial strategy supported by the SACU Industrial Development Action Plan and the SACU Development Fund. These tools aim to help the region climb into global value chains by financing critical infrastructure, supporting industrialization, and creating jobs. This economic cooperation is also based on long-standing alliances, such as the Binational Commission of South Africa and Nigeria, established in 1999.
The Commission connects the continent's two largest economies through more than 34 bilateral agreements aimed at expanding trade, deepening investment, and strengthening industrial integration. These bilateral efforts are part of a broader strategy to build a more integrated and competitive African economy. Through transformative initiatives like the North-South Corridor Development, South Africa facilitates the development of roads, railways, ports, and digital networks necessary for the full realization of AfCFTA potential. Furthermore, its role as the host of the Pan-African Parliament in Midrand, Gauteng, provides a constant platform for harmonizing legislation and strengthening democratic governance across borders.
South Africa's commitment to the continent is most evident in moments of crisis when solidarity must translate into action. When catastrophic floods and Cyclone Idai struck Mozambique, Malawi, and Zimbabwe, South African rescue teams provided vital on-the-ground assistance.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, South Africa led calls for global equity in vaccine access and advocated for localized medical production when vaccine nationalism threatened to leave developing countries behind. This leadership earned the country the title of African Union Champion for Pandemic Prevention, Preparedness, and Response.
Working with African Centres for Disease Control and Prevention, South Africa continues to strengthen healthcare systems, support the African Medicines Agency, and promote coordinated procurement systems to improve access to essential medical supplies. Its pledge to allocate $13.5 million to the African CDC to aid in treating and containing the recent Ebola outbreak reflects a broader commitment to supporting Africa's capacity to collectively respond to shared challenges.
More than three decades after achieving democracy, South Africa remains dedicated to Mandela's vision of an Africa united by purpose, confident in its potential, and determined to build a future of prosperity and opportunity for all its people.
On July 18, citizens in South Africa will once again observe Mandela Day, remembering not only the global figure but also the lawyer who believed that the law should serve the underprivileged, marginalized, and forgotten segments of the population. Although Mandela Day is often associated with food parcel drives, school visits, and clean-up campaigns, beneath this veneer of service lies a deeper question: is the country truly upholding his vision of equality and dignity for all?
One of the most evident ways to answer this question is by focusing on socio-economic rights. These include rights to housing, healthcare, and social security. These rights are viewed not as luxuries, but as daily components of life lived with self-respect.
The history of human rights in South Africa is a long, painful, and unfinished process. For centuries, the law was used not to protect people, but to control them. Colonial expansion dispossessed communities of their land, and apartheid legislation entrenched racial segregation, restricted movement, and deprived Black citizens of basic freedoms. The Sharpeville massacre in 1960 exposed the brutality of a system that considered the lives of Black people expendable.
In that era, the concept of human rights in its modern sense was absent from the legal order. Nevertheless, lawyers began to resist, refusing to accept the established situation. They defended political prisoners, challenged warrantless arrests, and used the courts, however limited they were, to expose injustice. This work was often dangerous and rarely recognized, yet it laid the groundwork for the idea that the law could be reclaimed, rather than feared.
By the late 1980s, legal activism had become a significant force. Public interest lawyers, along with Black legal associations and community justice movements, began speaking a common language focused on equality, accountability, and rights. When Mandela was released from prison in 1990, he was surrounded by lawyers who had supported him for decades. Their belief in the rule of law helped shape subsequent negotiations.
The democratic breakthrough of 1994 placed human rights at the center of South Africa's new constitutional structure. The Bill of Rights became the bedrock of the nation's democracy, ensuring the protection of civil and political liberties while recognizing socio-economic rights, including access to housing, healthcare, food, water, and social security. Few constitutions in the world achieve this level.
This step was a conscious choice based on the understanding that apartheid was not just a political but also an economic system that denied people the ability to live with dignity. Human rights lawyers played a crucial role in drafting this foundation. They advocated for a Constitution that would not merely prevent future abuses but actively redress past injustices. They also contributed to the creation of Chapter 9 institutions, including the South African Human Rights Commission, which is responsible for promoting and protecting human rights and fostering a culture of accountability.
The work of human rights lawyers did not end with the signing of the Constitution. In the following years, they translated constitutional promises into reality through strategic litigation. Landmark cases changed the trajectory of the country's development. Among these are the Grootboom judgment, which affirmed the right to housing; the treatment campaign case, which forced the government to provide antiretroviral treatment; and the Khoza case, which secured access to social grants for permanent residents. Each such ruling reinforced the principle that rights are enforceable, not merely symbolic.
In KwaZulu-Natal, this work took on particular urgency. Communities facing dysfunctional municipalities, unsafe water supplies, overcrowded clinics, and persistent inequality often relied on public interest lawyers to challenge illegal decisions and demand compliance with constitutional obligations. In many instances, the judicial process was the only effective tool to compel government action.
Human rights lawyers also play a vital role in preserving historical memory. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission relied on lawyers who helped victims tell their stories and seek justice. Today, as South Africa engages with international bodies, human rights lawyers continue to champion Mandela's insistence that dignity must be protected both domestically and internationally.
However, the mere existence of human rights lawyers does not guarantee a just society. They often work in under-resourced institutions, subject to political influence, or operate slowly. Court victories can be undermined by weak enforcement, while many communities continue to struggle to access legal aid. As many South Africans know well, rights mean little if they do not translate into food on the table, water from the tap, and safety on the streets.
This is why Mandela Day must be more than just a charity ritual. It must serve as a reminder that human rights are a daily practice, not an annual event. Mandela understood that dignity requires more than good intentions; it demands structural change. A food parcel can help for one day, but a functioning social security system provides lifelong protection. Cleaning a schoolyard has its value, but ensuring adequate sanitation and safe classrooms in every school is justice.
Mandela Day must also prompt us to ask more complex questions: Are our laws serving marginalized groups? Are our institutions protecting the vulnerable? Are we supporting the lawyers and activists standing between power and abuse? Are we strengthening oversight bodies that monitor the government?
If we can honestly answer these questions and act according to those answers, then Mandela Day will become more than just a moment of remembrance. It will become part of the long journey toward dignity that Mandela began alongside countless human rights lawyers.
South Africa's path in human rights remains far from complete. While the Constitution continues to embody a powerful promise, Mandela Day reminds us that fulfilling that promise requires more than 67 minutes. It requires a constant commitment to justice, accountability, and the conviction that the law must serve those who need it most.
