*Seshni Moodley is an admitted attorney, director of Seshni Moodley attorneys incorporated , with expertise in digital, civil and criminal law. She holds a masters in human rights law and is currently pursuing her PhD in human rights law.
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When the government declared gender-based violence and femicide (GBVF) a national disaster in late 2025, many South Africans felt a long-overdue recognition had finally arrived — a signal that the crisis would be treated with the urgency and resources of any other national emergency.
The declaration promised coordinated action, clearer budgets, and faster delivery of survivor services, including Thuthuzela Care Centres, sexual offences courts, and victim-friendly police stations.
But a few months on, the lived reality for many women and families has not yet matched the promise. The question ordinary people ask at kitchen tables and in taxi ranks is simple: have the laws and plans made women safer? If not, what will it take to close the widening gap between political commitments and lived experience?
Official figures and independent reporting show that sexual offences and murders remain alarmingly high, and survivors still face long waits for forensic results, inconsistent police responses, and court backlogs that stretch cases for years.
For the period from April to September 2025, the South African Police Services recorded more than 24,000 sexual offence cases. These cases included approximately 19,400 rapes. Other recent reporting has highlighted thousands of murders and tens of thousands of assaults in short periods. These numbers underline why activists pushed for the disaster classification in the first place. They also reveal a painful truth: the scale of violence is so entrenched that legal reform alone cannot shift the daily reality for women and children.
The gap between law and life is not unique to South Africa; it is a global phenomenon. International studies and policy reviews show a familiar pattern: countries often modernise laws to protect women’s rights, but enforcement, funding, and institutional capacity lag.
The World Bank and other global bodies have warned that legal equality on paper frequently fails to translate into real economic or physical security for women. Contributory reasons include under-resourced courts, police, and social services.
This global context helps to explain why legal reform, while necessary, is rarely sufficient on its own. Globally, governments announce ambitious strategies; without budgets, trained personnel, and accountability, these strategies remain aspirational rather than transformative.
There are, however, concrete gains to point to. The National Strategic Plan on GBVF provides a clear roadmap, and the disaster classification creates a legal obligation for coordinated action. Some Thuthuzela centres and victim-friendly police stations are delivering better care, and public mobilisation — from petitions to mass protests — has forced the government to act and kept the crisis in the headlines.
By coordinating marches, digital campaigns, and community dialogues, the movement forced policymakers to confront the scale of the crisis and acknowledge that incremental reforms were no longer enough. These victories show that activism works and that public pressure remains one of the strongest tools available to ordinary citizens.
The plan still falls short in the detail that ordinary citizens can see and measure. Civil society groups and commentators have repeatedly asked for ring-fenced budgets, named timelines, and clear accountability mechanisms so communities can track progress.
At the 2026 State of the Nation Address, some activists said the speech recycled old promises without naming who would oversee delivery or how the money would be spent, leaving survivors and advocates frustrated and sceptical. Without transparency, even well-intentioned commitments risk becoming political tokenism rather than practical change.
Fixing the problem requires practical, measurable steps. Firstly, the disaster classification must unlock predictable funding with short, public timelines so that new courts, forensic capacity, and shelters are not just announced but built and staffed.
Secondly, justice must be survivor-centred. This entails faster, prosecution-led investigations, better-resourced forensic labs, and more sexual offences courts. These measures will contribute to turning arrests into convictions.
Thirdly, national plans must translate into local services. Rural towns and township communities need accessible shelters, social workers, and economic support for survivors.
Finally, transparent data and independent oversight will let citizens hold officials to account and show whether promises are turning into protection. These steps are not abstract policy ideals; they are the minimum requirements for a functioning system that treats GBVF as the emergency it is.
Ordinary readers can play a role beyond criticism. Petition local councillors and MPs for clear budget lines and timelines for GBVF interventions; support local shelters and counselling centres with time or donations; and learn where to report violence and how to access Thuthuzela care centres and other survivor services.
Political will is more likely to follow when communities demand transparency and back local organisations. Change often begins with informed citizens who refuse to accept silence or stagnation.
The true measure of success will not be the number of laws passed or speeches made, but whether fewer women are killed, raped, or assaulted; whether survivors receive timely care; and whether perpetrators are held to account. South Africa has the legal framework and a mobilised public. The urgent task now is to turn those laws into lived safety.
This requires a cultural shift as much as a legal one: a collective rejection of the norms that allow violence to flourish, and a commitment to building communities where women and children can live without fear. The lesson for the world is the same: laws are a vital start, but enforcement, funding, and cultural change must follow. Ordinary citizens must keep the pressure on until promises become protection.
*The opinions expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect the views of the newspaper.*
DAILY NEWS