When we think about hunger we don't think about peace — here's why we should

Daily Maverick

3 days ago

Hunger isn't just about food. It's about power. It's about who gets to eat, who decides and who is heard. If we're serious about justice, then no one should be hungry.
In South Africa, hunger is not just about empty stomachs, but also about unequal systems. It exists in crèches that exclude children whose parents can't pay fees, in homes where grant applications fail quietly, and in the lives of people with disabilities navigating systems that overlook their most basic needs. The student who is excluded from funding because they are considered too poor to afford university, yet not poor enough to qualify for state assistance, caught in the gap of eligibility. The woman who sits at the traffic lights with her child asking for small change or food.
The problem is not that the country does not produce enough food, the problem is about who eats and who does not. Hunger is not just about food, it is about power, it is about peace, and it is deeply gendered. Women, especially Black women, carry the heaviest load in South Africa's food crisis. They cook, stretch budgets, sell in the informal economy and absorb the emotional violence of food insecurity. They go hungry so children can eat. And when food runs out, so does safety. As we've seen time and again, from the Covid lockdowns to the July KwaZulu-Natal unrest, scarcity breeds violence and is expressed against Black bodies.
Despite producing enough food to feed everyone, South Africa has more than 63.5% of households facing food insecurity. We live in a country with one of the world's most progressive constitutions, in which section 27 guarantees the right to food and water. Yet every day millions go hungry. And too often we forget who exactly is being left behind.
Hunger is a multidimensional crisis that undermines health through malnutrition, poor disease resistance and skipped medication. It fractures social cohesion, creating stigma, shame and desperation, worsening economic outcomes, especially for women and young people already at the margins. Women in informal settlements skip antiretrovirals because they can't take them on an empty stomach. The missing population that is not reported on include those not in employment, education or training, outside of the Not in Education, Employment or Training (Neets) active or inactive. There are people who are not in employment who are not receiving social grants and are not in the youth category, including children who are not in early childhood development, and are left without resources to access food​​.
Despite policy interventions such as school feeding schemes, social grants and the 2023 SAHRC-led right-to-food study commissioned by the Department of Agriculture, significant structural gaps remain. Many interventions are not reaching those outside formal systems – such as children excluded from early childhood development programmes or people with disabilities navigating inaccessible services. These omissions reveal a deeper issue: our food security mechanisms are not designed with the most marginalised in mind, reinforcing cycles of invisibility and exclusion. This is not just a failure of delivery. It is a failure of vision.
If we think of hunger only as a developmental or nutritional issue, we miss its full impact. Hunger is relational. It creates shame, fuels desperation and destabilises communities. We need to stop treating hunger like an economic inconvenience and start addressing it as a political and peace issue, one that is deeply gendered.
The Centre for Social Justice, under the leadership of Professor Thuli Madonsela, has reframed hunger as a constitutional crisis. In the recent expert symposium I attended on 10 April in Pniel discussions rightly rooted the right to food in section 27 of the Constitution, making the case for structural change that is systems-based and a rights-driven approach to food insecurity.
The research on Gendered Dimensions of Hunger and Peacebuilding by the Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation and University College Dublin drives the conversation further, urging for a widened lens where food security is a catalyst for peace. Because hunger, when it intersects with gender, exclusion and poverty, becomes something even more dangerous – a disruptor of peace. A participant in the ongoing research said that in one of the dialogues they conducted a man asked: 'How do you expect me and my people to engage on peace when we are hungry?'
Let's be clear: we have the policy tools, we have the research and we have the constitutional mandate. What's needed now is a shift in mindset from hunger as a welfare issue to hunger as a peace and justice imperative.
When hunger intersects with gender inequality, disability and exclusion, it fuels gender-based violence, erodes trust in the state and drives protests, looting and resentment. As the UN Security Council warned in 2025, hunger isn't just a consequence of conflict. It's a cause.
We must act like it.
That means embedding gender, peace and inclusion into every food policy. It means tracking how hunger affects social cohesion, how it exacerbates violence, how it chips away at democratic trust. It means giving voice and space to those most affected not after the fact, but as architects of the solutions.
If we are serious about building a future rooted in justice and peace, then we must start treating hunger as both a political emergency and a moral failure. This means going beyond food parcels and short-term aid. We need women-led food and peace councils that place care, equity and lived experience at the heart of decision-making. We need disability-sensitive food access tools that acknowledge the everyday barriers disabled people face in reaching nourishment. And above all, we must ensure that no child goes invisible simply because their stomach is empty outside of school hours. Hunger is not just a symptom it is a warning signal. And ignoring it now means paying the price in conflict, unrest and fractured futures.
Hunger isn't just about food. It's about power. It's about who gets to eat, who decides and who is heard. If we're serious about justice, then no one should be hungry – not a mother, not a child, not a person navigating hunger with a disability. Because food justice is peace work. Because peace doesn't start in Parliament – a place where conflict should be dealt with – it starts in homes where children eat, with women who aren't forced to trade their bodies for bread, and with the ability of persons with disabilities to access food without stigma. Where food security is not a charity but a human right.
So, what would it look like to build a hunger strategy rooted in gender justice and peace?
We are at a turning point. With the National Food and Nutrition Security Plan (2024-29) in development, and a government of national unity on the table, the political moment is ripe. But the question remains: will we continue with business-as-usual? Or will we reimagine hunger as the crisis of dignity, justice and peace that it is?
As one working at the intersection of gender, hunger, and peace, I say this: until hunger is addressed as a breach of peace and women are recognised as leaders in healing it, our democratic promises remain half-written.
We don't often think of food when we talk about peace. But we must – because in every empty stomach lies a silent protest against injustice. If we want peace to flourish, it must begin with food security, dignified women and inclusive food systems. DM
Naledi Joyi is a gender programme officer at the Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation. Her work focuses on the intersections of gender-based violence, food systems and structural inequality. She has conducted research across rural and urban South Africa and post-conflict Liberia, exploring how violence is embedded in institutions, economies and everyday survival.