The militant anti-migrant organisation Operation Dudula continues to be a dominant, and deeply polarising, force in South Africa’s socio-political landscape, with recent activities in Pretoria clinics underscoring its relentless, yet highly controversial, campaign to restrict access to public healthcare facilities for foreign nationals.

These actions, often framed by the movement as patriotic efforts to “fix” the strained healthcare system by prioritising citizens, have been widely condemned by human rights groups and, crucially, recently declared “unlawful” and “xenophobic” by the High Court, setting the stage for a dramatic conflict between street-level activism and the rule of law.

The core of the recent controversy is encapsulated in a video that circulated online, reportedly showing Operation Dudula members confronting and, in at least one reported instance, preventing a man perceived to be a foreign national from accessing medical assistance at a public clinic.

The raw footage, which often includes verbal confrontations and the demanding of identification, has become a lightning rod for the debate over immigration, resource allocation, and constitutional rights in the country.

In the video’s commentary, the proponent of the action, Mjomane, passionately defended the hardline stance, asserting that such enforcement is necessary to address systemic issues.

He urged the necessity of enforcing the law, especially against those who are “very disrespectful to our country,” and declared that the man should seek medication “where he buy medication,” arguing that South African taxpayers fund the public health system, and its resources should be exclusively for citizens.

This defense directly appeals to the widespread sentiment that foreign nationals, particularly those undocumented, are overburdening public services—a key rhetorical tool of Operation Dudula.

The commentator’s justification for these actions hinges on the pervasive and emotionally charged allegation that foreign nationals are not only straining resources but are actively engaged in illicit activities that further deplete the public stock.

He dramatically suggested that the man denied entry might not even be genuinely sick but could be “just taking the medication to do what happened to that to that bus to just put away medication and get home and sell the medication.”

This dark insinuation directly references a well-publicised incident involving a bus transporting medication, which Operation Dudula supporters claim illustrates a wider, unchecked criminal network involved in the theft and resale of state-funded pharmaceuticals.

The commentator argued that initial denials of these allegations, which were often supported by human rights advocates and civil society groups, were proven false by the discovery of the stolen medication, thus justifying the movement’s vigilantism.

He stated, “We saw the bus because a bus transporting medication and people at the same time without anything that shows that this bus has medicine in transit doesn’t make sense.”

This interpretation allows the movement to frame its actions—which human rights organisations classify as harassment and xenophobia—as necessary community service and a defence of the South African poor.

However, the legal and ethical landscape has sharply turned against Operation Dudula.

The movement’s persistent campaigning outside clinics, including facilities in Pretoria, Johannesburg, and Soweto, has drawn severe criticism from international and domestic organisations, including Doctors Without Borders (MSF) and various human rights institutes.

These groups have repeatedly pointed out that the South African Constitution guarantees the right to basic healthcare for everyone within the country’s borders, regardless of nationality or documentation status, a constitutional provision enshrined in Section 27(1)(a).

The constitutional crisis posed by Operation Dudula’s defiance escalated into a formal legal challenge.

Just days before the reporting of the latest clinic incidents, the Johannesburg High Court handed down a landmark ruling that directly addresses and condemns the movement’s methods.

The court, in a case brought by various civil society organisations, issued an interdict that explicitly and unequivocally restrains Operation Dudula, its executive members, and its affiliates from:

Demanding private citizens produce passports or identity documents

to demonstrate their right to be in the Republic.

Intimidating, harassing, and/or assaulting

individuals identified as foreign nationals.

Making public statements that constitute hate speech

on the grounds of nationality, social origin, or ethnicity.

Interfering with the access of foreign nationals to health care services

and/or their right to such access.

The High Court judge found that Operation Dudula’s actions were “unlawful, unconstitutional, and a direct violation of the rights to healthcare, dignity, and equality.”

This ruling unequivocally strips the movement’s actions of any claim to legality or public duty, confirming that their conduct is not protected protest but rather a breach of the law and a danger to public safety.

The continued presence and active enforcement of their own rules at clinics in areas like Pretoria, despite this judicial ruling, suggests a calculated defiance of the court order.

This places Operation Dudula in a precarious legal position, risking charges of contempt of court and potentially escalating the legal consequences for its leaders and active members, including its vocal national leader, Zandile Dabula.

Ultimately, the video and Mjomane’s defense illustrate a deep, irreconcilable conflict in contemporary South Africa: the clash between a constitution that promises universal rights and a popular movement that seeks to override those rights based on deep-seated grievances over economic inequality, failed service delivery, and resource scarcity.

The debate is less about “fixing” clinics, as Operation Dudula claims, and more about who belongs in South Africa and who deserves the most fundamental public services, a debate now firmly entrenched in the legal system as a fight against xenophobia and vigilantism.