The sight of soldiers patrolling civilian neighbourhoods should never feel ordinary. Yet in South Africa, it increasingly does. In his 2026 State of the Nation Address, President Cyril Ramaphosa once again announced the deployment of South African National Defence Force (SANDF) members to address gang violence in the Western Cape and ‘zama-zama’ related violence in Gauteng. This follows a series of similar deployments since 2019, each framed as a necessary response to crime. While the urgency of addressing violent crime is undeniable, the growing reliance on military deployment risks normalising a dangerous shift in how the state governs its citizens.
Section 200(2) of the Constitution provides that the military exists to ‘defend and protect the Republic, its people and its territorial integrity’ against government identified threats, whether internal or external. Soldiers are trained to neutralise danger, not to serve as civilian law enforcement. Policing, by contrast, is grounded in close proximity to communities through crime investigation, maintaining public order, and protecting and securing persons and their property.
This distinction matters because normalising military presence in civilian life subtly reshapes democratic culture. When soldiers patrol neighbourhoods, the implicit message is that these spaces are battlefields and the people within them potential adversaries. This shift is reinforced by the language of political leaders. Deputy Minister of Defence and Military Veterans Bantu Holomisa recently warned civilians, “We won’t play. Never point a firearm at soldiers. We’re not the police.” While on its face this may seem like a reasonable caution, its underlying message is stark. It draws a clear line between policing and military force - and signals that soldiers operate according to a different logic.
In a constitutional democracy, the state’s authority derives from the consent and trust of the governed. Civilian oversight, accountability, and proportionality are not optional ideals - they are foundational principles. When military deployment becomes a routine instrument of domestic governance, it risks shifting this balance. The state begins to appear less as a public servant and more as an enforcer. The presence of soldiers, trained for combat rather than civilian protection, alters how communities experience state power not as something that protects them, but as something that controls them.
This danger is not theoretical. South Africa has already witnessed the devastating consequences of military deployment in civilian settings through viral social media videos. In Khosa v Minister of Defence and Military Veterans, SANDF members enforcing COVID-19 lockdown regulations horrifically assaulted Collins Khosa at his home in Alexandra. After he objected to their treatment, he was beaten with the butt of a machinegun and died shortly thereafter from blunt force trauma. His death occurred less than a month after the military had been deployed to enforce lockdown regulations.
Equally troubling was the official response. Then-Minister of Defence Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula warned civilians not to “provoke” soldiers and not to observe their activities. Such statements subtly shift responsibility away from the state and onto civilians themselves. They imply that harm is avoidable if civilians simply behave correctly, rather than affirming the state’s obligation to exercise restraint. This framing erodes the principle that state power must always be exercised lawfully and accountably, regardless of the circumstances.
Beyond these constitutional and human rights concerns lies a practical question: does military deployment actually work?
Evidence suggests that its impact is, at best, temporary. Research into the 2019 anti-gang deployments in Cape Town found that while there was an initial reduction in murders during the first month, this effect did not last. This is unsurprising. Soldiers are not trained to investigate crimes, build prosecutable cases, or maintain long-term relationships with communities. Their presence may temporarily suppress visible criminal activity, but it does not address its root causes and rather further entrenches that violence is inescapable.
Crime in South Africa is driven by complex social, economic, and institutional factors that cannot be solved by military deployment as an attempt to threaten persons against unwanted conduct. Instead, it risks becoming a highly visible substitute for the slower, more difficult work of strengthening civilian policing institutions. It creates the appearance of decisive action without actually delivering sustainable solutions such as the creation and maintenance of community centres and after-school activities for youth.
Perhaps most concerning is the cumulative effect of repeated deployments. Each time soldiers are sent into civilian spaces, the threshold for doing so lowers. What was once exceptional becomes familiar. What was once extraordinary becomes routine. Over time, this normalisation reshapes public expectations and political incentives. Military deployment becomes the default response to crises that would be better addressed through institutional reform and social investment.
This is not to suggest that the SANDF has no role to play domestically. There may be exceptional circumstances where military support is necessary, which is provided for in the Constitution. But exceptional measures must remain exceptional. They must be accompanied by clear limitations, robust oversight, and an explicit recognition of their risks. Without these safeguards, the line between civilian governance and military control begins to blur. The boundaries between times of war and peace disappear and the public begins to accept that we must exist in a state of war in order to experience a state of peace. In these times, control by the state only continues to grow.
South Africa’s constitutional democracy cannot be viewed in a vacuum without consideration of our history as a colony, where colonial control was exercised through violence and militarisation, and Apartheid-era violent control through the blurring of the police, state security forces, and the military.
Our democracy was founded in this context, based on the principle that state power must serve the people, not intimidate them. The increasing reliance on military deployment in civilian areas risks undermining this principle through altering civilian perception of power.
The challenge of violent crime is real and urgent. But the solution cannot be to gradually militarise civilian life. Safety built on fear is not true safety. A democracy is not defined by how forcefully it can assert control, but by how carefully it exercises power.
Chanel van der Linde is a senior researcher at the Helen Suzman Foundation.
