Thabani Mutambasere: Activism, Food Politics and Diaspora Citizenship

How do diasporas contribute both to their countries of origin and to civic life in their adopted homes? In this Global Souths Hub Q&A in conversation with Zara Qadir, Thabani Mutambasere (University of Edinburgh) reflects on Zimbabwean refugee activism in the UK, the politics of food and belonging, and the idea of “diaspora citizenship.” He also discusses his editorial work for three journals and efforts to decolonise academia.

1. Thabani, you have lived in Zimbabwe, South Africa, and the UK. How has working in different countries shaped how you see the world and the kind of research you do?

Leaving my home country meant having to find new communities. When I first moved to South Africa for my undergraduate degree, it coincided with the first wave of xenophobic attacks and unrest in which several people were killed in 2008. But during this time, I witnessed how Zimbabweans and other migrant groups built solidarity networks, sharing information to protect one another. That experience of belonging and resilience is what first drew me to my research on diasporic communities. During this time, I observed how migrants came together and offered each other protection, including sharing of resources and accommodation among other things. 

South Africa’s diversity, compared with where I grew up in Zimbabwe, let me see how different socioeconomic factors shape people. The contrasts – familiar culture yet very different urban life – all highlighted how diasporas navigate and shape their environments. These experiences pushed me to study the intersections of diasporas, belonging, identity and development.

2. What does your 2024 article on “unruly diaspora action” among Zimbabwean activists in London reveal about how diaspora communities contribute to crisis response and humanitarianism?

This research was actually part of a larger project on the transnational activism of Zimbabwean migrants. In this paper, I focused specifically on refugees and asylum seekers, and particularly on a group that has gathered outside the Zimbabwean embassy every Saturday for years. I found that, although refugees and asylum seekers are often portrayed in the UK media as helpless or entirely dependent on government support, many are incredibly politically active.

These groups knew that visible activism in the UK not only influenced human rights debates, but also strengthened their asylum claims. They lobbied the UK government and also worked transnationally with organisations based in Zimbabwe, who were involved in influencing human rights issues.

Much of their activism was about creating a visible sense of political activity or activism in the UK to challenge deportability, or rather, challenge the chances of them being returned to Zimbabwe, since activism gave them profiles as political actors. The group itself was quite diverse: some were refugees with official status, some had become citizens but continued their activism, while others were applying for asylum or awaiting decisions.

What struck me most was how this activism shaped their sense of identity and belonging. They made deliberate efforts to ensure their activism was visible: encouraging photographs and public displays of participation. This was part of a broader crisis response; with the human rights situation in Zimbabwe, their activism in the UK was a way of trying to bring about meaningful change.

At the time of my research, much of this group’s focus was on challenging, or rather levelling the political playing field in Zimbabwe. There was a strong sense that the opposition was consistently disadvantaged, and these networks needed to do something about that.

3. How important are diaspora in helping in humanitarian crises? Do you have any examples from your work?

As part of a broader project, I did some work with a faith-based diaspora group of Zimbabwean Catholics living in London, who were engaged in charitable work in Zimbabwe. Over time, I observed how they mobilised in response to different crises.

When a dam collapsed in several southern provinces in Zimbabwe, they first heard about it through their network — a nun had posted about it on Facebook. Without being asked, they raised around £10,000 to support the affected community. Beyond crisis relief, they also invested in longer-term initiatives such as helping to construct schools, purchasing books and paying exam fees for students.

Each year, they also organised a charity drive in the UK, sending collected goods to partner organisations in Zimbabwe. Through these efforts, their faith-based identity became inseparable from their role in addressing both emergencies and longer-term development needs. However, of course, network-based giving has its limits: if you fall outside the network, you may not benefit from its support.

4. A key idea in your research is “diaspora citizenship in practice.” What does this mean? How do ideas of identity and belonging lead to political action among African communities living abroad?

“Diaspora citizenship” generally refers to the ways in which people who live outside their country of origin maintain rights, identities, and forms of belonging that connect them both to their homeland and to the country where they reside. It comes from a search for inclusion in both the host country and the homeland. It also includes belonging and civic action in both places and it is not limited to people with rights or ‘papers’ in both locations.

When people talk about diaspora citizenship, they often emphasise “acts of citizenship,” usually framed in terms of legal status and rights. I argue that diaspora citizenship goes beyond legal status. It can also be about individuals who are in the country illegally, without legal documents, because they belong to this community of a diaspora and they see themselves as citizens as well. Efforts to gain legal rights in both places, and belonging even without them, shape political mobilisations and community groups while strengthening migrants’ identities.

Legally, the government might say you are not recognised until you have refugee status or citizenship papers. But for many migrants, their community work and transnational civic engagement, shaping life both in their host country and back home, are very real forms of participation. This combination of belonging and transnational engagement in both locations creates what I call “diaspora citizenship”. It should be recognised as a meaningful arena of citizenship, even if it doesn’t fit the narrow, ‘document’-based definition most people think of.

“Citizenship should not be understood only in the substantive, legal sense. It can also be based on a kind of loosely defined social contract, whereby people contribute to a community, take part in everyday activities and are socially recognised as belonging. These transnational forms of civic engagement make them citizens of something, even if not legally acknowledged as such.”

Thabani Mutambasere

5. To what extent can your findings on diaspora citizenship be applied to other diaspora or migrant communities, or are these cases too unique to generalise?

The thing about diasporas is that they are unique and diverse. Even if originally from the same country, different diaspora groups can operate in very different ways depending on their backgrounds, or which part of the country they come from. You can try to apply these insights to other communities in similar positions, but it is always difficult because diaspora experiences are so deeply lived and context specific. As anyone working on diasporas will tell you, every case is unique.

6. In your article, ‘Roadrunners and Fanta’, you explore food and migration in Zimbabwean communities in the UK. How do food and cultural habits help us understand hunger and food insecurity? Could you tell us more about this research?

This was an interesting and surprising project published in the journal, Global Food Security. We already knew that in times of crisis, such as the COVID-19 pandemic, migrants often suffer disproportionately, since many lack support networks in their host countries, in some cases due to clauses on visas such as ‘no recourse to public funds’.

In our research for ‘Roadrunners and Fanta’, we wanted to go beyond just food availability. We asked how secure migrants feel about the types of food available to them, and how cultural food practices shape their experience of hunger and food insecurity. Is food something more than just a dietary requirement, or does it also provide the familiar tastes and smells that bring real nourishment?

We know that food culture is critical in most Global South communities, where it helps sustain identity, family ties, and community connections. Food, just like people, shouldn’t be seen as static. When you move somewhere new, you encounter different cuisines. For migrants, food becomes part of the negotiation of integration, security and belonging. Does eating unfamiliar food help create a sense of home, or deepen longing for what has been left behind?

We found that many people are constantly negotiating this. They’ll ask friends traveling from home to bring specific ingredients, or they’ll look for alternatives locally. For example, many Africans turn to Asian stores for ingredients that aren’t quite the same but are close enough to give that sense of comfort of being able to say, “At least today I’ve eaten something that feels familiar like home.”

Migration is never just about individuals moving; cultures move with them, and so do cuisines. Many participants described how their cooking changed after moving to the UK: learning new techniques, experimenting with substitutions, and even finding creative ways to grow non-native crops to recreate the tastes of home.

“For migrants, food becomes part of the negotiation of integration, security and belonging.”

Thabani Mutambasere

7. Thinking ahead, what emerging issues in migration, diaspora action, or development are you most excited to explore in your next projects?

I’m developing research on Brexit’s impact on labour supply in health and social care. After many workers left, the UK recruited from Commonwealth countries, often via third-party agencies to bypass WHO red-list restrictions. This created a recruitment industry in which some migrants paid fees, retrained and moved, sometimes only to find those jobs didn’t exist. I frame this as “migration brokerage,” which in itself is nothing new.

While brokerage itself is not new, I’m particularly interested in how recent UK policy changes generate scarcity rents in the countries migrants are leaving, and how these rents shape patterns of exploitation, the design of migration policy, and the broader political economy of care work.

I also co-authored a book last year, Horizontal Development: Shifting Power and Privilege in Aid with Shonali Banerjee, Anne-Meike Fechter and Thabani Mutambasere (Bristol University Press).

8. Part of your work at the university is as Co-Convenor of Centre of African Studies (CAS)’s Decolonising Working Group and cross-disciplinary lead in RACE.ED, could you tell us how these initiatives are influencing institutional change at the University of Edinburgh?

The CAS Decolonising Working Group is a department-based initiative where colleagues come together to reflect on how we contribute to decolonisation in different areas in our curricula, research, and research partnerships. One of the central concerns is ensuring that partnerships are equitable. It’s not enough to extract information from communities or treat partners as sources; we need to structure collaborations so that everyone benefits equally.

The same principle applies to teaching. Decolonisation isn’t just about what’s on the syllabus, but also about practices we sometimes take for granted. Part of our work is about being cognisant of our own biases, the language we use in the classroom, and how we operate as a department more generally. 

With RACE.ED, the scope is wider. It’s a cross-university network focused on decolonial studies, race, racialisation and how these issues shape both individuals and teaching across departments. As part of the steering committee, we help shape the agenda, but it’s also a space for sharing ideas. Ultimately, it’s about promoting anti-racist sensibilities, not just at the institutional level but also in how we relate to each other.

The real challenge is how to change the system itself. As part of RACE.ED also came a course called Understanding Race and Colonialism, which is open to all pre-honours students across the University. 

This connects to the wider efforts at the University of Edinburgh. For example, we recently had a race review as part of the Decolonised Transformations project. The review was essentially the university examining its historical links to slavery and colonialism. It documents the role of the institution and its individuals (for example, money that came from Caribbean plantations and was invested in the university). It’s a very comprehensive report, and it’s publicly available. There are follow-up actions being planned, but the review also raises broader issues, such as staff diversity. 

9. Your postgraduate teaching includes ac course called Contemporary Inequality Issues in the Global South. Could you tell us about the course?

The course is called Contemporary Inequality Issues in the Global South, and the title is deliberately broad so that the focus can change depending on what seems most useful for students. This year, we have been focusing on four themes, the politics of natural resource extraction, trade and consumption; the geopolitics of critical minerals; community development in extractive hotspots, and carbon trading and offsetting, all from a Global South perspective.

These issues matter in both the Global South and Global North, and students need to see how they unfold across contexts. A key aim of the course is to challenge dominant narratives around inequality. For instance, why resource-rich countries often lag behind Western nations in development. I invited practitioners to speak to the students about their on-the-ground work. One speaker working in the Democratic Republic of Congo talked about the experiences of mining communities and the displacement they face, as well as issues around carbon trading and offsetting. Another guest, who has worked in Mali, Chad, and Colombia, shared insights on community development in extractive hotspots.

The course confronts the lived realities of extractivism and interrogates capitalism’s role in producing and normalising them. It generally asks questions like: how have these ideas made it acceptable for corporations to penetrate communities, strip land (and sometimes labour), then walk away without meaningful accountability? What structures enable this, who benefits and who is left to bear the damage?

At best, some companies build a clinic or a school, but that hardly compensates for the destruction of entire ecosystems and the long-term harm caused to local communities. In some regions, people can no longer farm the land, either because they’ve lost access or because it’s been polluted beyond use. In some cases, members of communities who live around extractive hotspots develop respiratory and other medical conditions due to the pollution from some of these mines. That’s why I wanted students to hear from guest speakers with lived experience. 

10. You also act as Associate Editor for African and Black Diaspora and Editorial Board member for Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies and most recently, as an Academic Editor for Third World Quarterly (TWQ). How does that editorial work feed into your academic engagements and vice‑versa?

I see it as a great way to contribute to the advancement of academic research in my field. It helps me keep track of what’s being published, what people in different regions are working on, and that in turn pushes me to think about new ways of knowing and new directions for my own work. It’s about being able to contribute to knowledge production by being part of a wider conversation.

It is also an incredible networking opportunity. At conferences, you end up talking to people working in disciplines you may not have ever thought about, and that opens doors to many insightful and unexpected collaborations. I also think this work sharpens important skills, especially around critical evaluation. The more manuscripts and papers you read, the better you get at identifying what’s strong, what’s missing and what could be improved. It helps you develop as a writer. 

As I grow, everyone in my network benefits too. For example, if I’m mentoring or supervising a PhD student who wants to publish, the advice I give is shaped by my own editorial experience. The same applies to master’s students working on dissertations, because I’m thinking not just about completing a thesis, but about the possibilities of turning it into publishable work. That’s how I try to bring everything together.