By Lanre Ogundipe
There are moments in the life of a nation when old questions return demanding fresh answers. The recurring xenophobic attacks against Nigerians in South Africa constitute one of such moments.
Every few years, the same disturbing scenes replay themselves. Nigerians are assaulted. Businesses are looted and destroyed. Families are displaced. Fear spreads through communities. Diplomatic protests are lodged. Assurances are given. The outrage subsides. Then the cycle returns.
The tragedy is not merely that these attacks occur. The greater tragedy is that they continue to occur despite everything Nigeria once did for the liberation of Southern Africa. This is not a debate about vengeance; it is a debate about memory, reciprocity, national dignity, and the purpose of foreign policy itself.
The Legacy of Sacrifice
For decades, Nigeria stood at the forefront of the struggle against colonialism and apartheid. While many nations expressed sympathy, Nigeria committed resources. While others issued declarations, Nigeria made sacrifices.
Through the Southern African Relief Fund, launched during the apartheid years, ordinary Nigerians contributed financially to the liberation of Southern Africa. Students, workers, professionals, and market women donated towards a cause they believed transcended national boundaries. Scholarships were offered to South Africans in exile. Diplomatic campaigns were financed. Liberation movements received support, and international pressure was mobilised against the apartheid regime.
Various studies have estimated that by the collapse of apartheid in 1994, Nigeria had committed resources running into billions of dollars in support of Southern African liberation causes and the Frontline States. Whether measured in financial terms, diplomatic exertion, or moral leadership, few countries invested more heavily in the struggle than Nigeria.
The expectation was not gratitude. The expectation was fraternity. The expectation was mutual respect among peoples who had shared a common struggle. History, however, has a way of testing assumptions.
The Broken Promise of Fraternity
Today, citizens of post-apartheid South Africa periodically turn against fellow Africans, including Nigerians, in episodes of xenophobic violence that have become disturbingly recurrent since 2008. Businesses have been attacked. Lives have been lost. Communities have lived in fear. Yet after each cycle of violence, little appears to change fundamentally.
This is why the current moment demands more than outrage. It demands reflection. Long before these attacks became recurring headlines, some of Nigeria’s most distinguished foreign affairs thinkers had already identified the weaknesses in the country’s diplomatic philosophy.
General Joseph Garba belonged to a generation that viewed Nigeria as Africa’s natural leader. It was a noble vision. Nigeria’s size, population, and resources imposed obligations beyond its borders. The country became a defender of liberation struggles and a champion of African causes. Yet beneath the idealism lurked a troubling question: How long can leadership remain sustainable if it continually requires sacrifice without measurable strategic return? Garba’s era exposed the first weakness in Nigeria’s foreign policy architecture—leadership without sufficient reward.
The Shift to Reciprocity and Citizen Diplomacy
Professor Bolaji Akinyemi confronted that contradiction more directly. He understood that international relations are ultimately driven by interests. Friendship matters. History matters. Shared struggles matter. But interests matter most.
His response became known as the Doctrine of Reciprocity. Nigeria, he argued, should stop behaving like Father Christmas. Goodwill should attract goodwill. Respect should attract respect. Benefits should flow in both directions. If Nigeria opens its markets, there should be reciprocal opportunities elsewhere. If Nigerians are treated fairly abroad, Nigeria should respond in kind. If they are mistreated, there should be consequences. Akinyemi was not advocating hostility; he was advocating balance.
Years later, Chief Ojo Maduekwe would revisit the same challenge from the perspective of the ordinary Nigerian. His doctrine of Citizen Diplomacy remains one of the most profound ideas ever introduced into Nigerian foreign policy. Maduekwe posed a simple but uncomfortable question: What value is foreign policy if it cannot protect the ordinary citizen? Why should diplomatic success be measured solely by summits, communiqués, and state visits while Nigerians abroad suffer indignities and insecurity?
Maduekwe insisted that the Nigerian citizen must become the focal point of diplomatic engagement. Foreign policy, in his view, should not merely serve governments; it should serve Nigerians. In reality, Akinyemi and Maduekwe were pursuing the same objective. Akinyemi supplied the doctrine, while Maduekwe supplied the human face. Together, they challenged the culture of diplomatic charity that had long characterised Nigeria’s continental engagements.
Unfortunately, neither doctrine was fully institutionalised. Successive administrations continued to speak the language of continental solidarity while often neglecting the practical interests of Nigerian citizens abroad. The result is the contradiction confronting Nigeria today.
A Disproportionate Commercial Balance
South African businesses operate successfully across Nigeria. MTN stands as perhaps the most visible example. The company entered Nigeria in search of growth opportunities beyond South Africa’s borders. Today, Nigeria has become one of the most important contributors to MTN Group’s profitability. Recent financial reports indicate that Nigeria contributes a substantial share of the group’s earnings and remains one of its most strategic markets.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Investment should be welcomed. Profits legitimately earned should be respected. Economic cooperation should be encouraged. Yet reciprocity compels us to ask legitimate questions.
How many Nigerian companies enjoy comparable access and success in South Africa? How many Nigerian investors can scale their operations there under similar conditions? Do Nigerian entrepreneurs face barriers that South African businesses do not encounter in Nigeria? Are opportunities flowing in both directions? These are not questions of resentment; they are questions of policy.
The generation that fought apartheid understood something many contemporary policymakers appear reluctant to acknowledge: diplomacy is not merely about friendship; it is also about leverage. Indeed, Nigeria once demonstrated this principle with remarkable courage.
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When international pressure mounted against institutions associated with apartheid South Africa, Nigeria took decisive action against Barclays Bank. The Nigerian government eventually took control of Barclays Bank Nigeria, a process that ultimately led to the emergence of Union Bank. That action was not merely economic; it was political, moral, and most importantly, it demonstrated that there are moments when principles must be backed by consequences.
Time for a Sophisticated Recalibration
Contrast that assertiveness with today’s hesitant responses to recurring xenophobic violence. One cannot help but wonder whether Nigeria has gradually lost confidence in the diplomatic instruments it once wielded with such conviction.
This does not mean Nigeria should embrace retaliation. Far from it. Neither confiscation nor economic adventurism offers a sustainable path. What Nigeria requires is something far more sophisticated: a recalibration.
Nigeria must not abandon Africa. Nigeria must not renounce solidarity. Nigeria must not become hostile to South Africa. But solidarity must not become servitude. Partnership must not become dependency. Generosity must not become weakness.
The most uncomfortable truth is that South Africa is not the real subject of this conversation; Nigeria is. South Africa merely provides the mirror through which Nigeria is compelled to examine itself.
For decades, Nigeria pursued an Afrocentric foreign policy animated by noble ideals. It invested heavily in liberation struggles, championed sanctions against apartheid, and shouldered responsibilities that few others were willing to bear. Yet history teaches a sobering lesson: sacrifice alone does not guarantee reciprocity. Good intentions do not automatically translate into influence. Generosity, however noble, is not a substitute for strategy.
The recurring xenophobic attacks against Nigerians in South Africa are therefore not merely security incidents. They are reminders that foreign policy must continually evolve to protect contemporary interests and contemporary citizens.
This is where Joseph Garba, Bolaji Akinyemi, and Ojo Maduekwe converge. Garba questioned leadership without reward. Akinyemi challenged diplomacy without reciprocity. Maduekwe challenged foreign policy without citizens. Three generations. Three doctrines. One enduring message: a nation must never become indifferent to the dignity of its citizens.
Nigeria does not need a foreign policy of anger. Neither does it need a foreign policy of perpetual charity. What it requires is a foreign policy anchored on reciprocity, national dignity, and citizen protection.
The question is not whether South Africa owes Nigeria gratitude for yesterday. The real question is whether Nigeria is prepared to demand respect for Nigerians today. History has already done its duty. Policy must now do its own.
Lanre Ogundipe, a Public Affairs Analyst and former President of the Nigeria and Africa Union of Journalists, writes from Abuja.
