On Saturday evening, I had a call with a friend who’s become more of a benevolent career frenemy.

As young journalists, we find ourselves caught between honouring our careers and honouring the paths and people who helped us get there.

At the start of our conversation, I asked him a question I’d been battling with for a good week.

Are we, as journalists, failing the everyday South African?

The question doesn’t solely arise from social media discourse, although it has been undoubtedly influenced by it.

It comes against the backdrop of conflicting headlines that address the issues at hand. However, these headlines risk neglecting what is arguably the most important question:

Why is this happening?

Following the recent protests in Durban and Soweto, several renowned journalists and media houses published opinion pieces and editorials condemning March and March leader Jacinta Ngobese-Zuma.

There are legitimate questions about her rhetoric, the movement’s conduct and the consequences of its mobilisation.

But in our rush to identify the person responsible for the latest controversy, are we losing sight of the circumstances that have allowed it to take hold?

The protests followed a Constitutional Court judgement concerning access to South Africa’s asylum system. The judgement did not automatically grant asylum seekers refugee status or citizenship.

It concerned their access to a process through which their claims could be considered.

On 28 September, the Department of Home Affairs issued an operational directive to implement the judgement.

The directive was withdrawn on 9 October, citing overwhelmed refugee reception offices, risks to officials and public-order concerns.

This raises important questions about the government’s capacity to implement court rulings and communicate policy changes. In addition, it raises questions about managing an asylum system at the centre of an increasingly volatile public debate.

Yet how much attention are we paying to these institutional failures?

As young journalists, we are taught to acknowledge the factors that influence our perspectives and situational judgement.

Surely, we must apply the same scrutiny to our own reporting.

I am not suggesting that Ngobese-Zuma should be absolved of scrutiny.

Violence, intimidation and attacks on foreign-owned businesses are serious matters. And the right to protest does not confer the right to harm others.

But shouldn’t we also ask why her message resonates with so many people?

There is a meaningful distinction between opposing illegal immigration and opposing immigration itself.

March and March frames its campaign as opposition to illegal immigration, raising concerns about broader management and law enforcement.

However, describing the unrest exclusively as anti-illegal-immigration protests risks overlooking violence against foreign-owned businesses. It also risks overlooking violence against people perceived to be foreign nationals.

Equally, labelling everyone concerned about immigration as xenophobic risks dismissing legitimate questions about government policy.

Our language matters. So does the evidence behind it.

Calling March and March a “vigilante group”, for instance, is a serious characterisation that requires substantiation.

Where intimidation, assault or unlawful enforcement is documented, we should report it plainly. Instead of relying on labels that risk doing the work for us, we must be clear.

South Africa continues to grapple with unemployment, inequality, pressure on public services and declining confidence in government institutions.

These conditions do not prove anti-immigration activists’ claims, nor do they justify prejudice.

But understanding why a political message gains traction requires examining what makes it persuasive to its intended audience.

When people feel their concerns have gone unanswered for years, a movement promising to confront then can offer something powerful:

Recognition

One of the main things that stayed with me after the conversation with my friend was that, ultimately, we have to go back home.

We have to face the people we grew up with and the communities that raised us. In those moments, we may be reminded of just how lucky we are to have had an “escape”.

For some of us, journalism has opened doors to opportunities and spaces that once seemed inaccessible. Additionally, these were impossible for people like us.

But leaving a space does not mean we continue to understand it.

The people who feel seen and heard by March and March may be the same people we must face when we return to our communities. They are people who have lived with unemployment and failing public services. Furthermore, they are people who have a government they believe has repeatedly let them down.

And we may find ourselves telling them that their anger is misplaced. We may also have to tell them that they have been misled and that they should blame government systems rather than the people they have come to see as the source of their problems.

Some of that may be true.

But what happens when we tell people that their conclusions are wrong without first demonstrating that we understand the circumstances that led them there?

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For years, we have asked why South Africans are not angry enough about corruption, poor service delivery and the apparent abuse of consequences for those entrusted with public resources.

Now, when that anger finds a visible outlet, we are confronted with an uncomfortable reality: anger can fuel demands for accountability. However, it can also be manipulated and redirected towards vulnerable communities.

Understanding does not mean excusing violence or prejudice.

It means investigating what fuels it.

Perhaps the question my friend and I were circling around was not whether journalists should hold Ngobese-Zuma accountable. They should.

It was whether; in doing so, we are also holding government accountable for the conditions that have made this moment possible.

The everyday South African deserves journalism that interrogates power and tests claim against evidence. Journalism should also explain the institutional failures shaping their lives.

Perhaps we fail them whenever our criticism of an individual becomes a substitute for investigating the wider problem.

And perhaps, before asking why South Africans are so angry, we should ask ourselves whether we have been listening closely enough to understand why.

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• Ishmael Mabena is a Novanews journalist.