‘A rapidly widening gap between rising expectations and declining gratifications’ heightens xenophobic reactions such as those of Operation Dudula. Photo: Hanna Brunlof (file)
I want to explore the underlying logic of social revolts, not through the lens of history, but in light of South Africa’s unfolding reality. In doing so, I draw on a theory advanced by James C Davies in When Men Revolt and Why (1971), which resonates eerily with the moment South Africa finds itself in today.
Davies argued that revolutions do not erupt at the point of total despair, but at the point where hopes were once raised, only to be sharply reversed. That is, when people experience material and social improvement and begin to believe in a better future, only to watch it stall or decline, their anger becomes combustible. People do not revolt when they are hungry; they revolt when they are disappointed.
Is this not South Africa today?
We often forget how much South Africa has tried. The post-apartheid project promised not merely political freedom but social transformation. Millions gained access to housing, electricity, and education. Expectations surged. Black professionals entered middle-class suburbs. New universities opened their doors. A black president governed from the Union Buildings.
But somewhere in the past 15 years, the curve bent the wrong way. Service delivery collapsed. Power cuts became the norm. Schools decayed, hospitals were under-equipped, and local government became synonymous with dysfunction. Corruption became casual, and state capture industrialised. For many, especially the youth, hope turned into a cruel joke. Unemployment among those aged 18 to 34 now exceeds 45%. This is not merely a statistic. It is a generation blocked from the future.
When the state retreats from its responsibilities, society reorganises itself often along dangerous lines. Into the void stepped the Operation Dudula Movement, a loose coalition of township residents, civic actors and disillusioned youth, who began confronting undocumented migrants. In practice, many of those affected are of African descent, particularly from Zimbabwe, Malawi, Mozambique and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Government hospitals and clinics have become flashpoints. “Why are foreign nationals using our clinics?” they ask. “Why are they getting jobs, while we suffer?” These are not abstract debates about immigration law or international treaties. These are urgent cries from people who feel left behind and unheard, living in communities where state presence is limited to under-resourced clinics and indifferent police stations.
Let us be clear: targeting the poor because they are foreign is not a solution. But we must also be honest about what fuels these sentiments. It is not hatred of Africans. It is fear of losing what little remains, fear that democracy has stopped delivering.
Davies warned us: revolts are not always rational. They emerge from “a rapidly widening gap between rising expectations and declining gratifications”. The Dudula movement, with all its contradictions, is a symptom of that gap. A revolt not (yet) against the state, but against those caught in the same web of marginalisation.
Davies argued that revolts require more than the agitation of the poor. They demand the disillusionment of the middle class and the discomfort of those inside the state apparatus.
South Africa’s middle class, once viewed as democracy’s success story, is now anxious. The cost-of-living crisis is eroding both material stability and psychological security. Fuel prices climb, electricity tariffs spike, food prices soar,and private security and generators have become essential costs of daily survival. Incomes have remained largely stagnant while inflation eats away at purchasing power. Those who once felt secure now question whether they can hold on.
Professionals grumble about medical aid premiums they can no longer afford. School fees continue to rise above inflation. Mortgages are already stretched thin. The possibility of future interest rate hikes adds to their anxiety. Even emigration, once an escape valve, is now difficult because the global economy is struggling. The cost of living is more expensive in other countries, which are less welcoming to migrants. There is a growing sense of being trapped: too educated to qualify as desperate, too exposed to shrug off decline.
In January, more than 1800 junior doctors protested nationwide over being unemployed despite completing their training and internships. Their frustration speaks to more than personal hardship. It reveals a state unable to absorb skilled professionals into a failing public health system. That even doctors must protest for work points to a deeper crisis. Those in power are struggling to lead at a time when the government keeps making promises it cannot afford to keep.
Davies warned that the state may not fall because the poor are angry. It may fall because those who once defended it stop believing it can be fixed. The cost-of-living crisis is not just an economic issue; it is a political warning shot. When the middle class feels it has more to lose than gain from the current order, history suggests that discontent is no longer a rumble but a drumbeat.
In 2024, South Africans voted in an unprecedented way. The ANC lost its parliamentary majority. Coalitions became the new political language. Some saw this as a democratic breakthrough. But for many, it is simply more confusion. Governance stalls, policies contradict, and promises are quickly walked back.
The question that haunts most is this: if elections do not restore faith, what will?
Davies would caution us: if the gap between expectation and reality widens, and if elections fail to bridge that gap, revolt is not a matter of if, but when.
South Africa still has time. It is not yet in flames. But smoke is visible. The discontent is real. The warnings are present, in blocked roads, in looted trucks, in protest marches at clinics, and in the cynical jokes of the youth who no longer believe in promises.
To restore faith, the state must punish corruption and deliver services. It must address migration through policy and consistent enforcement. It must invest in poor communities beyond slogans. It must make visible the gains of democracy, especially for those who have stopped feeling them.
As Davies wrote, revolts begin in the mind long before they reach the streets. As has been seen throughout history, people will join revolutions when their expectations are frustrated, deliberately or through mistakes or miscalculations.
May South Africa not be remembered as the country that inspired democratic hope, only to abandon it through neglect, inequality, and silence. Action is urgent, so that history remembers South Africa not for its failure to respond to deepening discontent, but for choosing accountability, justice, and renewal over disorder and decline.
Tinashe Sithole is a post doctoral research fellow at the SARChI Chair African Diplomacy and Foreign Policy at the University of Johannesburg.