JACOB TSEKO MOFOKENG | Mourning murdered officers is all very well, but why can’t we keep them alive? - TimesLIVE
Every year, South Africa pauses to honour police officers who have paid the ultimate price in service of the republic. Wreaths are laid, candles are lit, names are read aloud, and solemn promises are made that their sacrifice will never be forgotten. Yet beyond the ceremonies and tributes lies an uncomfortable truth: we have become a nation far better at mourning our police officers than protecting them.
While we publicly celebrate their courage in death, too many of those entrusted with defending our communities remain dangerously exposed in life, often living among the very criminal networks they confront daily. The true measure of a society is not how eloquently it commemorates its fallen heroes, but how effectively it prevents their names from being added to the roll of honour.
By that standard, South Africa faces a painful question: are we genuinely protecting our protectors, or have we become increasingly comfortable with burying them?
Police officers occupy a unique position in a constitutional democracy. Recent statistics presented during police commemorative events may suggest progress. The number of officers killed in the line of duty has declined compared with previous years. While any reduction in such deaths should be welcomed, focusing solely on these figures risks creating a false sense of security. The official statistics tell only part of the story. They record those officers who died while performing official duties, but they fail to capture the broader reality of police victimisation in South Africa.
Historically, a significant proportion of police officers murdered in South Africa have been killed while off duty. These are officers who are not included in line-of-duty commemorations because they were not wearing a uniform, attending a crime scene, or participating in an official operation when they were attacked. Many were travelling home, visiting shops, spending time with family, or asleep in their beds. Yet their deaths were often directly linked to their jobs. Criminals knew who they were, where they lived, and what role they played in enforcing the law.
This distinction is critically important. Criminals do not stop viewing an officer as a threat simply because the shift has ended. A gang member arrested during the day may seek revenge after hours. A criminal syndicate may target an officer’s service firearm when the officer is away from the relative security of a police station.
The scale off-duty killings exposes deeper structural failures that extend beyond policing itself. Many lower-ranking officers cannot afford to live in secure neighbourhoods far removed from the environments they police. Limited salaries, inadequate danger allowances, and broader economic realities often force them to reside in crime-ridden communities, informal settlements, or high-risk urban areas. Consequently, some officers spend their working hours combating criminals, only to return home to the same neighbourhoods where those same criminals operate.
From a criminological perspective, these conditions create predictable vulnerabilities. Criminals rely on intelligence, surveillance and opportunity. Officers who live in known locations within high-crime environments become easier to identify, monitor and target. Their movements become predictable. Their families become exposed. Their homes cease to be places of refuge and become extensions of the risk environment associated with policing. When officers are murdered under such conditions, the responsibility cannot rest solely with individual offenders. It also reflects a collective failure to provide adequate protection for those tasked with protecting society.
The problem is not merely that officers are being killed. The problem is that society has slowly normalised the conditions that make these killings possible. Communities often know where illegal firearms are stored, who is involved in organised criminal activities, and who may be threatening local officers. Yet fear, mistrust, and silence frequently prevent information from reaching the authorities. The result is that criminal networks continue to grow stronger while community co-operation weakens. A society that refuses to support the safety of its protectors actively cannot reasonably expect sustainable public safety.
The consequences extend far beyond individual victims. Every officer who is murdered represents the loss of experience, institutional knowledge and law-enforcement capacity. Families lose parents, spouses, siblings and providers. Communities lose guardians. The state loses part of its ability to maintain order and protect citizens. Viewed collectively, police killings become more than isolated criminal incidents. They become indicators of broader institutional and societal weaknesses.
This is why the bigger picture matters. If we examine only officers killed while on duty, we may conclude that progress is being made. However, if we include officers targeted while off duty, a different reality emerges. We begin to see a country where criminals are sufficiently emboldened to hunt law enforcement personnel beyond the workplace. We see a society that remembers fallen officers with dignity but often fails to protect them while they are alive. We see a state that expects extraordinary courage from its frontline personnel but does not always provide extraordinary protection in return.
President Cyril Ramaphosa once observed that a nation reveals its character not only in how it remembers those who serve it, but in what it does to protect them. Those words should challenge every South African.
Until we confront the full reality of police killings, we will continue to misunderstand the scale of the crisis. More importantly, we will continue to fail those who stand between society and lawlessness. South Africa does not suffer from a shortage of memorials for fallen officers. What it suffers from is a shortage of sustained commitment to keeping them alive. Until that changes, we will remain a nation that mourns its police better than it protects them.
