As South Africans, we’re used to the occasional embarrassing moments associated with being members of the rainbow nation. And that includes the actual term “rainbow nation”, given how monochromatic our political discourse is sometimes. There are two kinds of embarrassment, though.
The one is the cultural cringe when we do something crass. Having a rugby scrumhalf with blonde locks prancing around a victorious World Cup dressing room in nothing but a South African flag Speedo (or budgie smuggler, as I believe the Australians refer to it) is an example of that. But we finessed that one with patriotic good humour, and I believe someone turned it into a business opportunity.
The other kind of embarrassment, when our government does something that diminishes our standing in the world, is less easy to embrace or brush off. We’re not starved of instances. Our tendency to cuddle up to authoritarian regimes springs to mind. Who can forget the disapprobation that came our way after South Africa decided that vacillation about Russia’s war against Ukraine was the right way to go, and refused to vote in favour of UN resolutions against it?
Some examples of that are when South Africa abstained on the General Assembly resolution on the territorial integrity of Ukraine which followed the 2014 Russian annexation of Crimea; and the 2016 Human Rights Council resolution, which tasked the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights with monitoring and assessing the status of human rights in Ukraine. And South Africa also abstained on the 2021 General Assembly resolution relating to the militarisation of Crimea and Sevastopol, and which condemned Russia’s ongoing occupation and militarisation of Ukraine.
Our government claims these abstentions are not motivated by reluctance to upset our buddy Russia, but by the belief that this is the best way to achieve peace. Most people suspect that it’s more a case of putting profit before human rights. Though who is receiving this profit is a job for investigative journalists, which leads me to the national embarrassment which is the department of home affairs’ attitude to granting visas to our fellow Africans.
Last week was the 20th edition of the African Investigative Journalism Conference (AIJC), held annually at Wits University. The event is an initiative of the Wits Centre for Journalism. It is the largest gathering of African investigative journalists, bringing more than 400 of them to share the case studies, methodologies, insights and tools necessary for the hard task of keeping our political and business classes as honest as possible. Which, as you can imagine, leads to a very contested definition of honesty. And a disclosure (because journalism, thankfully, does have a definition of ethical behaviour that it adheres to): the company I work for, Code for Africa, contributes to the funding of AIJC participants.
For the journalists who made it to the AIJC, the experience was a wonderful one. This year saw new organisers Dinesh Balliah and Beauregard Tromp succeeding the venerable Prof Anton Harber, and they did a great job. Which is what makes the series of WhatsApp messages I am about to share with you even more painful to read. They’re from a journalism group, so I’ve sought permission from the people I quote directly, but I’ve anonymised the ones I’m paraphrasing.
Here’s the first, from Bisong Etahoben, the editor-in-chief of the Weekly Post newspaper in Cameroon, and an investigative journalist. “I strongly suggest that the venue of the AIJC annual conference should be moved from South Africa to a much more welcoming and friendly African country. We have fought and liberated them from the yoke of apartheid and now they hate and don’t want us.”
We have fought and liberated them from the yoke of apartheid and now they hate and don’t want us
— Bisong Etahoben, Cameroon
Not something the organisers of a conference want to hear. And Balliah sympathised: “I am very sorry for all of these experiences which happened despite our interventions. The feedback is useful for us at the university who experience these challenges even with our international students. We will take these back to our liaisons at home affairs. As for moving the conference to other cities, this is under serious consideration given the visa situation.”
Yes, it’s all about visas. Here are some of the choice comments. One person said that, after they had attended the conference for four consecutive years, our department of home affairs decided this year to refuse them a visa, and therefore they were not going to apply again. Several others claimed similar treatment.
One wrote that they had been refused visas because of alleged suspect banking details; or because of an “invalid yellow fever card”, though they’d obtained the card in Nairobi after being vaccinated on entrance. “I’m lucky they didn’t say all my documents were fake!”
Many people blamed the xenophobic attitude of South African civil servants, but some also made fun of home affairs’ incompetence — which is something most South Africans can identify with. For example, some people had received visas, but only after the start of the conference. And others had been given short visas, of nine days for example.
A representative take was that South Africa was targeting certain countries. Nigerian journalist Ibanga Isine wrote: “People shouldn’t be mistreated on account of the country they come from, especially if such persons have no criminal record or intention of running away or remaining in South Africa. That is, to say the least, a racist approach. I should be granted a visa on the strength of the document I present and the valid invitation I was extended and not because I’m Ghanaian or Liberian.”
The Centre for Human Rights at the University of Pretoria agrees. “South Africa should change its policy of burdening visa applications for Africans. The country is one of the most difficult countries for Africans to travel to because its visa application is complex and applicants face numerous challenges. Nationals of only 20 African countries can travel to South Africa with no visa, of which 13 are Southern African Development Community countries, yet holders of at least 28 different European passports can freely enter the country.”
Another interesting statistic is that, despite President Cyril Ramaphosa’s claimed emphasis on immigration and tourism, in the first year of his presidency 7,000 Nigerians had their visa applications rejected.
A general theme was that South Africans do not see themselves as part of Africa. And one delegate noted, it’s easier to apply for a US or UK visa.
One commentator suggested that, if Wits can’t ensure that South Africa issues visas for invited journalists, then the organisers should consider changing the name of the conference to something that would make it South Africa-specific. And another suggested relocating the conference to countries where visa applications are easier, such as “Senegal, Ethiopia, Rwanda and Burundi”. Rwanda, of course, allows free entry for all.
South Africans on the group were sympathetic, with Micah Reddy from alt.advisory describing the South African visa regime as “a complete mess”.
“It’s also a source of huge frustration for South Africans and organisations operating here. I’m not sure there is much the conference organisers can do about it though.”
And therein lies the rub. Can conference organisers do anything about this? At this point, it’s worth pointing out that many journalists from African countries do get visas. In 2023, for example, 43 countries were represented at the conference, the vast majority African. But that doesn’t ease the pain for those who are denied entry. When I asked Balliah how many journalists had been denied visas, she wrote: “While we don’t have a full picture of how many people were affected, the centre is concerned about the impact that this issue will have on the future of this crucial conference. The visa issue gives the impression that Africans are not welcome in South Africa, which is deeply regrettable.”
Though I can understand the rage, it’s perhaps a little blinkered for African investigative journalists to elide the AIJC organisers with the actions of the South African government, and there is perhaps a level of projection there.
I would really love to work with you to unravel why the South African government is fixated on humiliating and keeping away investigative journalists from other countries
— Nigerian journalist Ibanga Isine
I prefer this take by Isine. Reaching out to a Carte Blanche journalist, he wrote: “I would really love to work with you to unravel why the South African government is fixated on humiliating and keeping away investigative journalists from other countries from its borders. A large percentage of journalists from the continent who apply or are invited to AIJC are not granted visas by the authorities of your country, and that deserves a close scrutiny. It would make a good dig. The same South Africa would issue visas to corrupt politicians who are desperately pillaging their countries but would bar journalists who are legitimately invited for a conference and who have no intention of staying. It is a shame on South Africa and its touted democracy.”
“Touted” democracy. Ouch. But I think Isine’s suggestion is a good one. That, after all, is the point of investigative journalism. This is a column, not an investigative piece, and one thing that’s missing is a response from home affairs. It would be great if one of our newsrooms picked this up, and tried to understand exactly what is rotten about our visa system. A conspiracy theorist might see the AIJC example as a way for the state to curb media freedom, but it is far more likely that this is a messy confluence of xenophobia and incompetence.
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