
People walk briskly along the coastal walks, trying not to make eye contact. Suspicious figures occupy benches, watching. Drop something on the pavement and it’s gone before you turn around. In dark streets, vagrants sleep in corners. The smell of urine hangs in the morning air. In a Birkenstock sandalled seaside resort, marijuana is sold openly on the street.
Tourists hiking scenic mountains get mugged. Some lose everything — passports, phones, peace of mind. They leave the country shaken and silent.
On a local WhatsApp group, a car was reported stolen almost every day last week. Syndicates are active. Everyone knows it. But official statistics and public messaging paint a far milder picture.
Why? Because too many people — across society — have too much to lose by telling the full truth.
SAPS is under immense pressure to show that crime is decreasing. This leads to the manipulation of stats, downgrading of serious crimes, and discouraging victims from reporting. On top of that, many South Africans simply don’t trust the police enough to report crimes in the first place — especially when they doubt anything will come of it. The result? What’s reported is only a fraction of what’s happening.
High crime is politically damaging. It suggests failure. So, the government messaging focuses on selective successes: arrests, crackdowns, “task teams.” Annual stats are released with spin — not necessarily lies, but careful omissions and emphasis on marginal gains. The goal isn’t transparency. It’s to reassure voters, investors, and tourists that things are under control.
Tour operators can’t sell a holiday destination by highlighting muggings and hijackings. Their strategy is to insulate visitors — luxury lodges, guided transport, private security — and avoid the issue unless asked directly. They don’t deny crime exists, but they create a curated version of South Africa that feels safe, beautiful, and contained.
For guesthouses, B&Bs, and backpackers, crime is bad for business. A single robbery or bad review can destroy future bookings. So they often stay quiet, resolve incidents discreetly, and avoid making crime part of their sales narrative. In small towns, there’s often social pressure not to “talk down” the area — even when locals know things are getting worse.
No single group hides the full truth. But together — through spin, silence, denial, and survival instinct — they all help mask the scale of the problem.
Meanwhile, ordinary people lock themselves in at night, glance over their shoulders during the day, and live with fear. They lose their cars, their phones, their peace of mind — sometimes their lives. Suburbs decay. Streets hollow out.
But don’t expect honesty. That’s not in anyone’s interest.
There’s money to be made in pretending it’s not that bad — those who benefit from smoothing over the extent of crime aren’t about to give up their slice of the fantasy.
So while communities unravel, while people lose their lives, their homes, their vehicles, even their sanity — someone, somewhere, is profiting from the illusion that everything is under control.