Dr Caterina Mazzilli | ODI Global

When Aida (not her real name) joined her husband in South Africa, she could not believe that that was what she “had come here for”. She said, “the first business we were doing was door-to-door [vending]. We used to sell blankets and curtains door to door and that brought [up] some reasons that made [me] consider returning home.”

Aida was born in Ethiopia and, like many Ethiopians over the past 20 years, migrated to South Africa. In her case it was to reunite with her husband, which is common amongst women and girls, while men and increasingly younger boys tend to set off in pursuit of economic opportunities. Photos and videos of luxury wedding parties in Cape Town, talks of established business ventures, sizeable remittances, and substantial donations to churches in towns of origin convey the message that in South Africa it is possible to “become someone”.

To a certain extent, these aspirations are possible to meet. As of 2022, South Africa was the third largest economy in Africa after Egypt and Nigeria. The local currency (the Rand) is relatively solid and there are many opportunities for entrepreneurship, with fewer and lower taxes on businesses than in Ethiopia. But the journey to South Africa is 10,000 kilometres long, laden with physical threats and danger of economic extortion. And even when they arrive, Ethiopians are “pushed to the margins” of the South African society, as most of them work as door-to-door vendors or in informal convenience stores (spaza shops).

The interviews our project partners conducted with Ethiopian men and women uncovered the presence of regret among some participants, expressed through the wish of having taken some different decisions. Regret is an incredibly sensitive topic, which risks being misinterpreted and misused, but looking at it can have implications for both research and policy-making.

As a caveat, this is not psychology research, nor was it possible to conduct it under clinical settings. Nonetheless, we hope it is the starting point for a more rigorous examination of the topic.

What the research showed

Everybody feels regret in their daily life both for trivial matters and big decisions, and migrants are no exception. However, in the context of migration, this topic is still underexplored at best, and a taboo at worst. This happens for a few reasons:

1. Pressure to ‘succeed’. Migration requires considerable material and emotional investment not only for the individual migrant, but often for their own network too. There is extensive research on the fact that the ‘poorest of the poor’ just do not have the means to migrate and very often families rely on the one member who migrates for remittances – but also to increase their social capital. This puts pressure on migrants to tick the boxes of a ‘successful migration’, for instance by owning a house, starting a business, or sending money to cover family healthcare expenses and school fees. These expectations are a weight on their shoulders and constrain them in their conversations with loved ones who have not migrated. The Ethiopian participants narrated of their frustration when communicating with their family, who found it difficult to believe accounts of hardship in South Africa. Those accounts contradict the well-established narrative of easy-access to economic success and personal development that has been reproduced over time. In reality, this narrative only paints a partial picture, as it erases the solitude, violence, and discrimination most of them have experienced in South Africa. The impossibility to communicate lived challenges went together with a longing for loved ones, and the regret for missing important family events. This made regret unspeakable of.
2. Lack of control over certain decisions. The data collection at the core of this study revealed that regret was mostly associated with those decisions that are a direct result of restrictive migration policies, such as strict border control or ever more stringent requirements to be granted a residence permit. Residence documents are extremely difficult to obtain and renew in South Africa because of both rigid regulations and pervasive corruption. But without them, it is impossible to register a business, use national healthcare, send children to a state school, or send remittances through regular bank transfers. One participant explained the tough impact this had on his life: “Back at home, you are not worried about any possible police raid or forced repatriation. For instance, my wife is living here but without paper; I have a child and [is] still undocumented; this is a huge psychological burden for me.”

While some people might regret the entire decision to migrate, others might regret just part of the process. In addition, some participants who seemed to express regret quite vocally remained in the destination country, while others decided to return even if there was apparently no major problem in their life. And this happens because, even when participants feel and express regret, they might just not have the means and/or the opportunity to act upon it. For instance, some participants in our study mentioned their desire to go back to Ethiopia. Yet some of them were holding back while waiting for a family member to reach South Africa, while others wanted to achieve a specific goal before returning (i.e., saving a certain sum). Mostly, however, they were hesitant to leave South Africa as they knew they would not be permitted to re-enter, unless they crossed the border irregularly once again.

• Risk of weaponisation. In a world where migration is treated like a top political issue and migrants are described as a threat to citizens and national resources, a delicate topic such as regret is at high risk of being weaponised by those sections of society that are hostile to migration. Politicians and members of the public who openly oppose migration could co-opt notions of regret as a means to accuse migrants of being ungrateful for the opportunities they found in the country of destination. But also, politicians and policy-makers might champion agendas that look caring on the surface while hiding a wider anti-immigration sentiment, such as development funds to countries of origin and transit that are conditional on migration prevention. This ‘liberal’ approach might appeal to many as it does not look openly hostile, but rather adopts the narrative of protecting migrants from the risk of regret.

So, what are the implications of these findings?

Exploring regret can help demystifying mainstream narratives about migration and success. Specifically, it can shed light on the fact that migration alone does not bring success, but rather success stems from structural conditions such as the job market, migration policies, and social cohesion between migrants and natives, to name a few. Shifting the focus from the individual to the structure could first and foremost make regret less of a taboo, thus hopefully alleviating the constraints that migrants feel in their conversations with family and friends.

There is an urgent need for a different narrative on migration, showing migrants under a nuanced light, highlighting their contributions to host societies, but also reckoning with the structural obstacles they face in their search for a better life. Ethiopian spaza shops in South African cities provide a valuable commercial service to the local population: they are located where there are no other minimarkets, such as in townships, stay open beyond usual shop working hours, and sell products at affordable prices. Yet these shops overwhelmingly operate in the informal sector, exposing shopkeepers to precarity and risks to their own safety, but also depriving the government of South Africa of potential revenues from registered businesses. As was the case for Aida, the most common regret amongst our participants stemmed from the clash between pre-departure expectations and reality at destination.

In this research regret did not emerge only as an emotional response to lived experiences, but also as the by-product of structural political and economic dynamics that place migrants in extremely hazardous positions. Direct control measures on migration have become more and more stringent over the last decades, and while this has not stopped migration, it has pushed migrants towards more dangerous and deadly routes. This context may lead to feelings of regret amongst migrants, although not necessarily about the decision to migrate itself as much as about the conditions under which they were forced to migrate. Relaxing the criteria to obtain regular residency status, while ensuring the prompt renewal of expiring permits, would ensure safer journeys, lower reliance on criminal networks, increased material and mental wellbeing of migrants, and better socio-economic integration.

Finally, policies fostering effective integration can weaken misguided hostile rhetoric against migrants and reduce concerns on the side of the local population. And while doing this, it is essential to keep in mind that integration goes both ways, and that its success depends far more on the opportunities generated by policies, structures, and institutions than on individuals’ keenness.

It would be naïve to think that simply avoiding a conversation on regret can protect migrants. As such, we call on scholars and practitioners to analyse regret within migration decision-making ethically, preventing its hijacking for political gains, to improve policies and migrants and host communities’ lives.

* This work is one of the outputs of the Migration for Development and Equality (MIDEQ) Hub, which is funded by the UKRI Global Challenges Research Fund (GCRF) [Grant Reference: ES/S007415/1]. Additional funding has been provided by Irish Aid. More information at www.mideq.org

* The author wishes to thank the members of the MIDEQ South Africa team for conducting the interviews on which this piece is based.