The streets of Johannesburg and Durban have once again become the stage for ugly scenes. Anti-migrant protests, fuelled by economic desperation and political scapegoating, have erupted across South Africa. Shops looted. Foreign-owned businesses torched. Families cowering in their homes. It is a grim spectacle that we in Britain have watched from a distance, perhaps with a sense of morbid fascination. But as the smoke clears, a question hangs in the air: is there a better way? Some are now pointing to Britain's integration policy as a model worth emulating.
For those of us who focus on the real economy, the roots of this crisis are not hard to trace. South Africa's unemployment rate hovers above 32 per cent. For young people, it is closer to 60 per cent. In such a climate, migrants become an easy target. They are accused of taking jobs, undercutting wages, straining public services. It is a narrative that has echoes in our own country, but with a crucial difference. Here, the state has attempted to manage the pressures through a system of integration, imperfect as it may be.
Britain's approach is not without its flaws. The hostile environment, the Rwanda scheme, the endless tinkering with visa rules. But compare that to South Africa, where the government has largely washed its hands of the issue. Migrants arrive, often without documentation, and are left to fend for themselves. They find work in the informal economy, driving down wages for the poorest South Africans. The state does little to support either side. No language classes. No skills training. No pathway to citizenship. It is a recipe for resentment.
The British model, for all its shortcomings, does attempt to square the circle. We have a minimum wage, strengthened by the real Living Wage campaign, which applies to all workers regardless of status. We have union rights that, while eroded, still offer some protection. And we have a system of integration that, at its best, tries to bring newcomers into the fold. Courses in English. Knowledge of British values. A route to settled status. It is not perfect, but it is something.
Take the city of Leicester. After the 2022 riots, community leaders and local councils worked together to defuse tensions. They invested in youth clubs, job centres, and English classes. They brought together local workers and migrant workers to discuss common grievances. It was messy, but it worked. The violence did not spread. Contrast that with Soweto, where last week a mob torched a Somali-owned shop while police stood by.
The difference is political will. In Britain, there is a consensus, fragile as it may be, that integration is a two-way street. Migrants must adapt, but the host society must also make room. South Africa's government, meanwhile, has been happy to let the issue fester. President Ramaphosa's response to the latest protests was a tepid call for calm. No offer of support for struggling communities. No plan to regularise the status of long-term migrants. Just a vague promise to look into it.
For working people in both countries, the anger is real. They see wages stagnant, rents rising, and public services crumbling. It is easy to point the finger at the foreigner next door. But the real culprit is a system that allows exploitation. When employers can hire undocumented workers for a pittance, they undercut everyone. When the state fails to provide education and training, migrant and native alike are left behind.
Britain is not a paradise of tolerance. Far from it. But we have built institutions, however battered, that attempt to manage the chaos. The Equality and Human Rights Commission. The Living Wage Foundation. The union movement. These are not abstract concepts. They are the tools that can turn a resentful mob into a community.
As the protests in South Africa rumble on, the lesson is clear. Integration is not a luxury. It is a necessity. And it requires investment, political courage, and a willingness to see the humanity in the stranger. Without it, the flames will keep spreading.
