South Africa: Online Anti-Muslim Rhetoric Contrasts Sharply with Lived Reality

Nquthu, South Africa – When Zwelibi Jack Ngubane died at the age of 105, he left clear instructions for his family: he wanted to be buried according to Islamic rites.

Hundreds of relatives and community members attended his funeral in Nquthu, a rural area in the north of KwaZulu-Natal province, where Christianity and traditional African beliefs dominate and Muslims are a small minority. Ngubane had converted to Islam late in life after observing the faith of his young grandson.

When he died, the family honored his wishes. The funeral was conducted according to Muslim burial customs before he was laid to rest in the family's burial plot in the village. For a community largely unfamiliar with Islamic funeral practices, the ceremony was a novelty.

But it was not a controversy. That distinction is increasingly significant in South Africa.

In recent months, anti-Muslim rhetoric has become more common on social media, intertwined with a national debate over immigration and anti-migrant movements. Many posts accuse Muslims of trying to take over South Africa, question their belonging in the country, and allege that Muslim organizations use charity and poverty-alleviation efforts to convert Black South Africans to Islam.

One social media post complained that the humanitarian organization Gift of the Givers was a "nuisance for deliberately imposing their Islamic beliefs in South Africa." Another claimed: "Most foreigners in South Africa are Muslims, and if you look at countries experiencing war, most are Muslim countries, not Christian ones." Others accused Muslims of "targeting poor communities to convert them to Islam."

But amid the rolling hills and villages of Nquthu, the picture is quite different.

Samukelisiwe Ngubane, a community activist, said her first encounters with Muslims were through Indian shop owners in a nearby town. "We have never had any problems. Some people are curious about what they (Muslims) do, but there is no issue at all," she told Al Jazeera.

When her brother Khethukuthula Dlame converted to Islam in 2012 at the age of 15, it was hardly an issue. Dlame, now 26 and one of the few known Muslims in the village, is so familiar to his neighbors that his Islamic attire is a source of teasing rather than hostility. One neighbor joked that he wears skirts.

"In these communities, there is harmony and respect. People truly respect my religion," he told Al Jazeera, standing beside his grandfather's grave.

This contrast raises the question: Is South Africa witnessing a rise in Islamophobia, or is social media making a minor phenomenon appear far larger than it actually is?

Small but long-standing community

Muslims are a small minority in South Africa. The 2022 census recorded fewer than one million Muslims, about 1.6% of the population. South African Muslim leaders give higher figures, with some estimating between two million and five million.

But Islam's presence in South Africa dates back centuries. Muslims arrived in the Cape through various routes, including enslavement and political exile, from parts of Asia and the Indian Ocean world under Dutch colonial rule from the 17th century. Muslims were present in the Cape before Shaykh Yusuf of Macassar, a Muslim scholar and political exile, arrived in 1694.

Today, the community includes descendants of Muslims brought to the Cape as slaves centuries ago, Indian South Africans whose families have lived in the country for generations, Black African Muslims, converts, and more recent migrants.

Dlame believes that efforts to stir up anti-Muslim sentiment do not primarily come from rural communities.

"The organized anti-Muslim movement is not at the community level. If you look at those who are agitating, they are not people from the villages. They are people from the cities and in the hostels," he said.

"Those behind this know the hotspots. If they really want to cause division, they use tribal rhetoric, and the people who are mobilized and stirred up are often in the hostels because living conditions there are not good."

South Africa has repeatedly experienced outbreaks of xenophobic violence since the end of apartheid, with migrants from other African countries often the main victims. The question is whether part of this anti-migrant rhetoric is also targeting Muslims.

'No widespread Islamophobia'

Thembisa Fakude, a South African political analyst and journalist who is Muslim, told Al Jazeera that concerns about widespread Islamophobia are exaggerated.

"I would argue that there is no widespread or organized, carefully planned Islamophobia targeting Muslims. We do not have that."

He acknowledged anti-Muslim rhetoric online but said it should not be automatically taken as evidence that South African society has become Islamophobic.

"That is true, but it is not unique to South Africa. This is a global issue... In South Africa, yes, there are bigots, and ultranationalist Zulu or ethnic chauvinists."

Fakude also argued that the Muslim community needs to address accusations of racism and exploitative labor practices within its own ranks, rather than treating every criticism as religious prejudice.

"That is making a mountain out of a molehill. And what concerns me is Muslims placing themselves in the victim position and going down that path. That is extremely dangerous."

What starts online does not always end there

Muslim religious leader Moulana Sulaiman Ravat told Al Jazeera that while South Africans in general are largely not Islamophobic, he is more cautious about what might come next.

"At the same time, I think in reality, South Africans are generally not Islamophobic, and there are various indicators to prove that."

But Ravat warned that online rhetoric can affect attitudes over time.

"I don't think we should go to the other extreme. We must understand that there are certain global political realities, and the Islamophobia project fits into those global agendas. So if we are complacent or indifferent, what people are exposed to online could begin to influence their psyche and way of thinking."

Ravat said that a Muslim identity is sometimes used to imply that a person is less South African. For him, that premise is flawed.

"I would say they are deeply religious and deeply patriotic, and there is no contradiction between the two."

His children, he said, are fifth-generation Indian South African Muslims.

"They no longer speak that language. They are as South African as anyone else."

Two South Africas?

Back in Nquthu, Islam did not arrive via social media algorithms. It came through a neighbor, when Dlame's mother cooked a halal meal for reporters and guests. Earlier, at a community gathering, Dlame explained that Muslims also believe Jesus is a prophet of God. The locals listened attentively and joined in singing Zulu melodies praising God.

For now, the gap between the online conversation and life in communities like Nquthu remains significant. But Ravat says that does not mean the possibility of deeper hostility should be dismissed.

"It is better to be proactive than passive. It is a global reality. It has been going on for the past 20 years. And whether it could escalate in South Africa and have serious consequences, it could be argued, is unlikely but not impossible."