OPINION: When justice feels unfinished

A MAN is convicted of assaulting a woman not once, but three times. He is found guilty by a court of law. And yet — he walks out the door.

This past week’s ruling in the Kathu Regional Court, where a man convicted of repeated assault in a gender-based violence case received a wholly suspended sentence, is entirely within the bounds of South African law. But it leaves behind a difficult question: When the gavel falls and no prison time follows, can we truly say that justice has been done?

This is not an attack on the judiciary. Sentencing is a complex balancing act — between punishment, deterrence, rehabilitation, and the rights of both victim and accused. Courts are rightfully cautious about overburdening an already overcrowded prison system. First-time offenders are often granted the opportunity to prove they can reform outside the walls of a jail cell.

But gender-based violence is not just a matter of isolated incidents. It is a pattern, a power dynamic, and — in South Africa — a national crisis. The term GBVF, which stands for gender-based violence and femicide, is not rhetorical. It represents the grim reality of women who endure repeated abuse, often in silence, and too often at fatal cost.

In this case, the victim had the courage to speak out — to report her abuser, to go through the process, to trust the system. But when a man is convicted of assaulting her multiple times and walks away with a suspended sentence, what message are we sending to other survivors?

We say: “Speak up.”But what we’re often heard saying is: “Even if you do, he might just go home.”

Legal experts have pointed out that the sentence handed down in this case — eight years, wholly suspended for five — is lawful, even common, particularly for first-time offenders. Courts are empowered under Section 297 of the Criminal Procedure Act to issue suspended sentences where the hope is that the threat of prison is deterrent enough.

And yes, in some cases, that approach may be justified. It allows someone who has made a terrible mistake to reform without becoming another statistic in an overcrowded correctional system. It avoids the long-term consequences of incarceration that can sometimes do more harm than good. But this is not just any offence. This is gender-based violence — a category of crime so widespread and devastating that it has sparked protests, commissions, and presidential pledges.

When sentences in GBVF cases fail to deliver clear and visible consequences, the damage isn’t just personal — it’s public. It tells survivors that reporting violence may not result in meaningful protection. It tells communities that abuse can be explained away as a “relationship issue”. And it tells abusers that they may not be held accountable unless someone ends up dead.

Justice may have been served on paper. But for many women — and many watching — it doesn’t feel like enough.

The truth is that sentencing alone won’t end GBVF. We need prevention, education, enforcement, and survivor support. But we also need sentencing that reflects the seriousness of the crime and the real risks to victims, even in cases where death did not occur — yet.

Until our justice system consistently delivers consequences that match the lived reality of gender-based violence, we risk undermining the very progress we claim to be making.

* Morgan Morgan is the Acting Editor of the DFA. This is a personal reflection and does not necessarily represent the views of the entire editorial team.

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