The recent turmoil at the University of Fort Hare, culminating in the torching of six university buildings, is a grim reminder of a deeply entrenched, and increasingly destructive culture of protest in South African higher education.
While protest has a legitimate and proud place in our democratic history, what unfolded this past week cannot be mistaken for civil disobedience or the pursuit of justice. It was chaos. And it wasted time, resources and opportunities that students, especially those from disadvantaged backgrounds, can ill afford to lose.
South Africa’s universities have become too accustomed to protest as the first, and often only, method of engagement. Burning buildings, blocking exams, destroying infrastructure, these have become recurring features at institutions meant to serve as beacons of enlightenment and opportunity. It’s a worrying pattern that not only disrupts academic progress, but increasingly alienates the public and potential allies from the real issues students face.
One thing is for sure: student grievances at Fort Hare are not illegitimate. The concerns about the university’s governance, the sidelining of democratic student structures like the SRC and discontent with vice-chancellor Sakhela Buhlungu are all serious and must be addressed transparently. These are not petty complaints. They speak to how power is exercised, how decisions are made and whether students feel heard at an institution that exists to serve them.
Protest should never be the only language students feel they have.
But burning down the very place that holds their future is not a solution, it’s self-defeating. It robs the majority of students of their education, undermines academic credibility and places further financial and reputational strain on an institution already struggling. It wastes everyone’s time, faculty, administrators, government and, most tragically, the students themselves.
This culture of destructive protest is not just a failure of discipline, it is a symptom of something deeper: a lack of meaningful dialogue and trust between students and management. When students believe their voices won’t be heard through formal channels, they resort to force. When university leaders see students as threats rather than partners, they entrench the problem. Both sides lose. The country loses.
Deputy minister Buti Manamela has rightly called for calm and condemned the violence. But his task now, and that of Fort Hare’s council and management, is not just to restore order. It is to rebuild trust. That means addressing the student grievances in good faith, re-establishing legitimate student representation, and creating platforms where engagement can happen early, constructively and continuously.
The university must also reflect on how governance decisions are made. Were students consulted meaningfully before constitutional changes? Was the SRC sidelined in a way that undermined its legitimacy? If so, these wrongs must be corrected.
Protest should never be the only language students feel they have. But when it escalates into violence, it becomes an act of desperation, not strategy. And desperation is not the foundation on which to build a future.
Fort Hare has lost more than buildings this week, it has lost time, trust and academic ground. It cannot afford to lose any more. Let us hope this becomes a turning point, where leadership, accountability and student activism find a new path, one that values engagement over destruction and progress over protest.
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