Remarks by Tebogo Khaas at the Unveiling of the late Babita Deokaran Monument on Sunday, 9 August 2026

Programme Director,Members of the Deokaran family,

The Mount Edgecombe Arts & Cultural Council,

The Mount Edgecombe Hindu Temples Trust and Shri Mariammen Temple Society, distinguished guests, friends and fellow South Africans,

It is a privilege and a profound honour to be with you in person on this very special occasion.

When I was first invited to deliver these remarks, circumstances suggested that I would have to send them in my absence. I am therefore particularly grateful that I am able to stand before you today — in this place, among the people who have come together to ensure that the life and legacy of Babita Deokaran are remembered.

And what a fitting day on which to do so.

Today is National Women’s Day — a day on which South Africa remembers the courage of women who stood up against injustice and refused to accept that their voices should be silenced.

It is therefore profoundly appropriate that we gather today to honour another courageous South African woman whose life was tragically cut short because she chose to stand for what was right.

Today, we unveil a monument to Babita Deokaran.

But I believe we must understand that we are not merely unveiling a monument.

We are making a statement.

We are making a statement about the values that we choose to remember, the kind of society we aspire to be, and the responsibility we have to those who have the courage to speak truth to power.

Babita was a public servant.

She understood that public resources do not belong to politicians, officials, executives or contractors.

They belong to the people.

She understood that corruption is not merely a financial crime. It is an assault on the dignity and wellbeing of ordinary South Africans.

Every rand stolen from the public purse is a rand that cannot be spent where it is needed most.

And she had the courage to act on that understanding.

She did what every constitutional democracy desperately needs its citizens and public servants to do.

She spoke up.

And for that, she paid the ultimate price.

Her assassination was not simply the killing of an individual.

It was an attack on the principle that citizens and public servants must be able to expose wrongdoing without becoming targets themselves.

That is why Babita's story cannot be allowed to end with her death.

And that is why this monument matters.

There is a danger with monuments.

We can build them, unveil them, lay flowers at them and return home — satisfied that we have done our duty to history.

But Babita deserves more than that.

Her memory must become a call to action.

When future generations see this monument, they must not merely ask: Who was Babita Deokaran?

They must also ask:

What did she stand for?

Why did she have to die?

And perhaps most importantly:

What have we done to ensure that another Babita does not have to die for doing the right thing?

That is the question we must confront.

South Africa has become remarkably good at celebrating whistleblowers after they have exposed wrongdoing.

We name them heroes.

We honour them.

We tell their stories.

We build monuments to them.

But the real test of a democracy is not how it treats a whistleblower after the danger has passed.

The real test is how it protects that whistleblower while the danger is unfolding.

It is easy to applaud courage when the courageous person is no longer with us.

It is much harder to stand beside someone when they are still blowing the whistle — when powerful interests are threatened, when retaliation begins, when intimidation occurs and when the whistleblower becomes inconvenient to those who would rather the truth remain hidden.

That is where our institutions must be tested.

Because a democracy cannot ask its citizens to speak truth to power and then abandon them when power fights back.

That is the central challenge we must confront.

This is also why the work and the message associated with Justice Mbuyiseli Madlanga are so important at this particular moment in our national life.

As I argue in an opinion piece to be published in the Sowetan this coming Tuesday, South Africa must confront a fundamental contradiction.

We say we want people to expose corruption.

We say we want accountability.

We say we want ethical public servants.

We say we want citizens to speak truth to power.

But what happens when they actually do?

Do we protect them?

Do we listen to the information they bring forward?

Do we investigate the allegations — or do we investigate the person making them?

Do we secure their safety?

Do we ensure that retaliation carries consequences?

Or do we leave courageous people to navigate powerful institutions and dangerous interests on their own?

These are not abstract questions.

Babita Deokaran's life and death provide us with the answer to what happens when courage is not adequately protected.

We therefore need to move beyond a culture that merely celebrates whistleblowing towards one that protects whistleblowers.

That means credible and independent reporting mechanisms.

It means confidentiality.

It means rapid intervention when threats emerge.

It means legal and psychosocial support.

It means accountability for those who retaliate.

And it means ensuring that institutions investigate the message rather than discrediting the messenger.

Because whistleblowing is not an act of betrayal.

It is an act of citizenship.

Indeed, those who expose corruption are often defending the very institutions from which they are accused of being disloyal.

Babita did not betray the public service.

She served it.

She did not undermine the state.

She sought to protect the public interest.

And she did not choose confrontation for its own sake.

She chose integrity.

Babita is not alone.

Across South Africa, there are men and women who have stood up against corruption, criminality, abuse of power and wrongdoing — some of whom have suffered intimidation, persecution, professional retaliation, violence and, tragically, death.

We owe each of them more than our condolences.

We owe them action.

Because if we remember their names but fail to change the circumstances that made their sacrifice necessary, then our remembrance is incomplete.

The ultimate tribute to a fallen hero of integrity is not a plaque.

It is not a statue.

It is not a wreath.

It is a safer country for the next person who decides to speak.

That is the monument we ultimately need to build.

A monument that cannot be carved from stone.

A monument built from stronger institutions.

From ethical leadership.

From courageous law enforcement.

From independent oversight.

From accountability.

And from a society that refuses to look away when wrongdoing is exposed.

Let us therefore make today's unveiling a commitment.

Let us commit that when someone sees wrongdoing, they will have somewhere safe to report it.

Let us commit that when someone speaks truth to power, we will listen.

Let us commit that when a whistleblower is threatened, protection will come before tragedy.

Let us commit that those who retaliate against whistleblowers will be pursued with the same determination with which we pursue the corruption they expose.

And let us commit that no family should ever again have to gather around a monument because their loved one was killed for having the courage to do their duty.

Babita's physical voice was silenced.

But her story still speaks.

It speaks to every public servant confronted by wrongdoing.

It speaks to every citizen who has ever wondered whether speaking up is worth the risk.

It speaks to every institution that claims to value integrity.

And it speaks to those who occupy positions of power.

It says:

Power must be accountable.

Public office is a public trust.

Corruption must not be normalised.

And those who expose wrongdoing must not be left to stand alone.

So, as we unveil this monument today under the theme “Bringing Babita Back Home”, let us understand that bringing Babita home is not simply about giving her a permanent place in the community where she was born, raised or remembered.

It is about bringing her values home.

Bringing her courage home.

Bringing her integrity home.

Bringing her commitment to the public interest home.

And ensuring that those values become part of the inheritance we leave to the next generation.

To Babita’s daughter Thiara, I can only imagine the immeasurable pain of losing your mother in such tragic circumstances, but I hope you will draw strength from knowing that her courage, integrity and sacrifice continue to inspire a nation.

To the Deokaran family, I want to say that we can never fully understand the pain of losing a loved one in such circumstances.

But we can say this:

South Africa remembers.

We remember Babita's courage.

We remember what she stood for.

And we recognise that her sacrifice was not merely personal — it was a sacrifice made in defence of the public interest.

It is precisely for this reason that the Whistleblowers Awards, which I have the honour of convening, established a special award in her memory — the Babita Deokaran Fallen Heroes of Integrity Award — to honour those who, like Babita, paid the ultimate price for standing firmly on the side of truth, integrity and the public interest.

To the organisers of this monument, I commend you for ensuring that her memory is not allowed to disappear.

And to everyone gathered here today, I leave you with this thought:

Let this monument not only remind us of the woman Babita was.

Let it remind us of the South Africa we still have the responsibility to become.

A South Africa where honesty is protected.

Where integrity is rewarded rather than punished.

Where corruption is confronted rather than accommodated.

Where institutions protect those who expose wrongdoing.

And where no person has to choose between remaining silent and risking their life for telling the truth.

May Babita Deokaran's memory continue to inspire courage.

May her sacrifice strengthen our resolve.

And may her legacy remind us that the fight for justice does not end when a courageous person falls.

It is our responsibility to pick up the cause for which they stood — and carry it forward.

Today, we unveil a monument.

But tomorrow, and every day thereafter, we must become the monument.

We must become the living expression of the values for which Babita gave her life.

Rest in power, Babita.

Your memory will not fade.Your courage will not be forgotten.Your sacrifice will not be in vain.

And may the justice for which you stood continue to guide us in the difficult work of building a more ethical, accountable and just South Africa.

Dhanyavaad. I thank you.