Many students come from families who are struggling, and poverty follows most of the students through the university gates. Photo: Julian Stratenschulte/picture alliance /Getty Images
For many university students, hunger is a daily struggle. A recent survey at the University of Johannesburg (UJ) revealed a grim reality: many of the students either go to bed hungry or sometimes go days without food. This troubling situation is not just about food — it is about dignity, opportunity and justice, important components of human rights.
Recent studies at the University of KwaZulu-Natal, University of the Free State and UJ made visible this problem — that more than half of the students experience some level of food insecurity. Nationwide, 11% to 38.3% of university students do not get enough food.
There is a direct correlation between hunger and physical and mental well-being; inadequate nutrition leads to cognitive impairment and increased stress.
As a temporary lecturer in philosophy at UJ’s Faculty of Humanities, specifically in the Extended Curriculum Programme, I have seen first hand how this food issue affects students. Beyond the classroom, students often report their struggles, and time and again, their socioeconomic hardships surface as a major concern — a shortage of food, inadequate shelter and overall insecurity.
A student at UJ said they attend classes on an empty stomach and has “stress and anxiety about where the next meal is coming from … affecting my mental health and concentration”.
I see how this negatively affects students’ level of study and their attentiveness in our lecture halls. This defeats the purpose of what we do in class.
A quick response might be that students must get jobs to alleviate their socio-economic hardships. This sounds good on paper, but we must ask if it is practical. There is a massive youth unemployment rate in South Africa. Where do we expect students to get these jobs? It is crucial that we have a deliberate conversation about how to mitigate this problem.
Student hunger is more than a personal problem — it is a social justice issue. How can we speak of democracy and dignity if the basic requirements for dignity (food and shelter) are not met? How can we expect students to perform well academically when they are deprived of basic necessities? Why are students going to bed hungry? What can be done to resolve this problem?
The problem affects both undergraduate and postgraduate students. Postgraduate students, often seen as more privileged, are equally struggling to support themselves while carrying out intensive research work. The poverty on campus is ubiquitous. Let us see what the data at UJ says
A 2024 report by UJ’s Division for Institutional Planning, Evaluation, and Monitoring, which annually reviews the university’s performance, highlighted that most students at UJ fall under the poverty index. This means they face extreme material deprivation, lacking even the most basic resources like food and shelter. Worryingly, many students without National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSFAS) support don’t have accommodation. And even those who receive NSFAS funds are not immune to these problems.
NSFAS, established in 1996 and revamped in 1999 to replace the Tertiary Education Fund of South Africa, is the largest student financial aid scheme in Africa, with a budget of more than R52 billion for the 2024-25 academic year. It covers tuition fees and accommodation and provides allowances for textbooks and living expenses.
According to UJ’s report, more than 70% of our students are NSFAS-funded. They receive about R1,650 a month as a living allowance, R7,500 annually for transport, R5,200 for learning materials and additional funds for disabilities. These funds are disbursed through the university, which oversees distribution. If many of our students get funding, why are they still hungry?
There may be several explanations for this recurrent phenomenon. The possible explanations have been narrowed to three: delays in payment of the funds by the government to universities, pressures on students to support their families back at home, and systemic injustices.
One immediate cause of the problem is the delays in NSFAS disbursements. When government allocations are late, universities are left with no funds to distribute, leaving students stranded. Right now, many students are in limbo, unsure when or how they will survive while waiting for their next allowance to arrive. Imagine sitting in class, expected to perform well, while hungry. This is the reality for more than 70% of UJ students — and it should alarm everyone.
The second explanation is that many of our students are first-generation university students. While this sounds like some form of achievement, it comes with hidden burdens. They come from impoverished and rural backgrounds. Their NSFAS living allowances are often split to provide for family members, leaving very little for themselves. While prima facie, this is not the university or the government’s concern, it must be understood as being intertwined with systemic injustices in South Africa.
The last possible explanation, which acts as an overarching explanation, is the issue of systemic injustices that have permeated the social fabric of South Africa for hundreds of years. It is deeply rooted in South Africa’s long-standing structural inequalities.
The deeper cause of this problem, which is symptomatic in the social welfare of our students, is systemic injustice and poverty. South Africa remains a deeply unequal society, scarred by decades of systemic injustice — from apartheid to the current post-apartheid era. Despite political freedom, economic freedom remains elusive for many.
Recent statistics paint a bleak picture: 43% of South Africans live in extreme poverty and 31.9% of the population is unemployed. Even among the so-called middle class, 63% of people live below the upper-middle-income threshold of $6.85 a day — translating to 2.2 million more South Africans in poverty than before the Covid-19 pandemic.
Most of our students at UJ come from these backgrounds, and their poverty follows them into the university gates. They have to share their limited resources with struggling family members, which leaves them vulnerable to hunger and deprivation. There is a necessity for us to have real conversations to mitigate these problems with real solutions, not Band-Aids.
While an increase in NSFAS allowances might seem like a quick fix, it will not address the root causes. The problem runs deeper — it is about systemic inequality, intergenerational poverty and a lack of redistributive justice.
If we want to end student hunger, we must address these foundational issues: redistribute wealth so that families can support themselves, instead of relying on the meagre student allowances of their children. Invest in comprehensive social programmes that ensure basic needs — food, shelter and healthcare — are met for all citizens, including students. Confront and dismantle the systemic injustices that continue to exclude the majority from meaningful economic participation.
More than three decades after apartheid, our students should not be battling hunger. Talks about democracy and human rights are about dignity, freedom and equality of opportunity. If students cannot even secure a meal, how can we claim to be living up to these ideals?
We must not normalise student hunger. It is an affront to the very idea of justice. It is a reminder that unless we tackle the root causes of poverty and inequality, democracy will not have been achieved. Our students deserve better. They deserve dignity, a future and the simple human right not to go to bed hungry.
This is a call for action — not tomorrow, not next year, but now.
Edmund Terem Ugar is a doctoral candidate at the Department of Philosophy and a researcher at the Centre for Africa-China Studies at the University of Johannesburg.