The predicament of Mozambique's police force
On August 4, 2023, around 30 plainclothes police officers gathered outside Mozambique's Ministry of Interior in Maputo, voicing concerns about their inability to support their families and pay rent due to up to three months of unpaid salaries. The official explanation from the Frelimo government cited technical issues with the new salary system. But not all police believed that. Unverified rumors circulated that the missing salaries might have been misappropriated by higher-ranking Frelimo officials. The officers sought an explanation from the Minister of Interior but were expelled by uniformed officers, warned of potential persecution, and told the minister was absent.
Some police officers anonymously spoke to the media, complaining about their dire situation, saying that they were living like ‘beggars’, having to ask family and neighbors to help them buy food, while their superiors lived comfortably. One officer warned that this situation could lead to a police strike. . Other police officers posted critical remarks on social media under pseudonyms, reiterating threats to stop working. There were also government critics warning that the failure to pay police and soldiers could lead to a coup, referencing recent coups in West Africa. At that time, many healthcare workers, including doctors and nurses, had been on strike for better wages and working conditions, and some teachers had not received regular salaries and were refusing to work.
Illegal to strike
There was no general strike by police in the end, which would have caused significant tensions. Strikes by police are illegal in Mozambique akin to other countries like the US and UK. Salaries began to be paid from August 14 after president intervened, expressing no tolerance for excuses related to payroll management. What could have resulted in a crisis within the security forces was averted for now. Significantly, this development transpired a mere two weeks before the campaign for municipal elections, scheduled for October 11—a timing that appears far from coincidental.
Historically, state employees in Mozambique have been expected to actively support and vote for the ruling Frelimo party, which has maintained its grip on power since the country’s independence from Portugal in 1975. Initially as a one-party state and since 1994 as a multi-party democracy.
After the municipal election campaign began on 1 September, there were no police manifestations and the other strikes by state employees had stopped. Things were back to normal, one local police officer in Maputo, assured me. However, the grievances and suspicions stemming from the missing salaries cast a spotlight on deeper-seated tensions and frustrations within the police force, extending their reach into the broader Mozambican state apparatus and the general population. Regrettably, the fundamental problems remain unresolved.
Over recent decades, Mozambique has witnessed a disconcerting surge in inequality, corruption, and an alarming specter of youth unemployment. Simultaneously, the avenues for expressing grievances and asserting rights have significantly dwindled. The shrinking of space for voicing discontent is further exacerbated by the overt politicization of the police force and other state employees by the Frelimo ruling party.
This trend of politicization was once again conspicuous during this year's municipal elections, where the police actively supported the Frelimo party in suppressing the opposition. Excessive police violence was documented across the country’s cities, including killings of young civilians. While the police are not blameless and should be held accountable for these actions, the situation also reflects how the police are ensnared in the political embrace of the Frelimo state, which is becoming more and more authoritarian as it faces dwindling popular support. Few police officers dare to voice criticism, given the inherent risks.
No space for critique and defense of rights
During the period of the missing salaries, most of the police did not raise any complaints but continued their work as usual. They are too afraid to complain, a female police officer, now retired, told me, because they fear being persecuted, demoted, or lose their jobs. Some, especially the older officers, are also just so loyal to the state that they do not considerraising the issues of discontent in the open, another officer, who has served in the police for 31 years, explained. A school security guard who had been without salary for two months told me that raising complaints over the denial of rights are fruitless: it just gives you a headache, so people just let it go and try to adjust and make ends meet the best they can.
The fate of the police officers who gathered in front of the Ministry on 4 August confirms these views. They are now facing charges. Other officers who have complained have been transferred and demoted or received other forms of punishment. Rumors are also circulating that police commanders around the country spread the information to their inferiors that if they complain, they will be considered traitors and actions will be taken against them. They should just remain calm and wait for salaries to come, the general commander of the police stated via the media.
13 years in prison
In late September, the seriousness of the police critiquing the state, was strongly exemplified with the sentencing of a member of the Rapid Intervention Unit police force to 13 years in prison. He was charged for spreading messages in a WhatsApp group consisting of other members of the Rapid Intervention Force, already back in January 2023. According to the charges these messages incited the police and armed forces to rebel against salary delays and to take action to remove the President and dissolve the parliament, likened to a Coup d’état. The accused was also charged of incitement to public disobedience. During the trial, the Public Prosecutor's magistrate left no room for ambiguity, declaring: “So that others, who use social networks, do not spread messages that promote coups d’état, we ask that a sentence of 30 years in prison be imposed”.. However, given the corporation of the agent, who did not admit himself guilty, the sentence was reduced. Yet, the message was undeniably clear: it served as a stark illustration of the perils that await those who dare to voice their grievances within the ranks of the police force.
For those police officers who mustered the courage to voice their grievances anonymously on social media, a prevailing sentiment of being exploited and undervalued by the system and the ruling elite was unmistakable. A member of the police force articulated this sentiment on Facebook, lamenting, "We are being used. Whenever there's a protest, either inside or outside the city, the government calls on us [the police]. But when it comes to our own salaries and allowances, we are left hanging, forcing us to temporarily abandon our posts just to address our family's basic needs".
The undercurrent of discontent was particularly pronounced among lower-ranking and younger police officers who perceived a stark divide: their superiors seemingly receiving their due, while they did not. While there is evidence to suggest that some higher-ranking officers also faced salary delays, the pervasive belief that they were unaffected and capable of providing for their families underscored a deeper frustration with the entrenched disparities between the elite and the ordinary citizens. These inequalities echo the broader discontent simmering within the population at large, who have grown increasingly disillusioned by the accumulation of wealth within the ranks of the Frelimo elite at the expense of everyday citizens.
An unofficial 'passive' strike by police officers
Undoubtedly, the corruption entrenched within the upper echelons of the Frelimo-controlled system inevitably trickles down to the day-to-day conduct of state officials. The police force is no exception. While many police officers often resort to side businesses alongside their official duties to make ends meet, some have gained notoriety for transgressing the law, either by extorting money from citizens or requesting 'refrescos' (soft drinks) – a euphemism often used when police seek small sums of money from people during patrols and various tasks. In the context of the salary delays this year, these practices appear to have proliferated, as recounted by ordinary citizens across the country. This was characterized as a form of passive strike, wherein police officers refrained from formal complaints or protests but instead curtailed their duties or supplemented their incomes with informal 'earnings' from citizens.
For example, in Tete town, residents voiced their concerns about police officers abandoning their responsibilities at the local police station. As a result, individuals seeking to file cases were simply turned away. Others shared incidents where some police officers took the law into their own hands and profited from it, especially when stopping people during patrols. Within police stations, there was a surge in cases where individuals arrested for crimes and placed in holding cells while awaiting court proceedings were released upon making payments to the police. In one such instance, a woman in Tete, who was informally selling lottery tickets, recounted her experience. She and her colleagues were arrested, taken to the police station, but subsequently released after paying 500 meticais (approximately 7.5 Euros) each. She explained, “When we arrived at the police station, the police simply stated that they would not initiate any legal proceedings. Instead, they told us, 'You just need to pay us 500 meticais, and then you can go home. We need the money because we haven't received our salaries since May.'”
In a rural town in Manica province, a young man believed that police officers always find ways to supplement their income, asserting, “They don't solely rely on their salaries.” He continued, “I can't speak for other regions of the country, but here, the police have various methods of securing money.” When asked about these methods, he elaborated, “For example, when they spot someone walking in the area, they are given money for soft drinks, so the individual doesn't have to go to the police station. Or, when they encounter a person with goods but no receipt, the police confiscate the items, and the person is compelled to pay to retrieve them. Many issues are resolved outside the police station in these ways.” He concluded, “It's the population that ends up providing them [the police] with the salaries they don't receive from their sector (i.e., the state).”
It is evident that the police officers who assembled in front of the ministry on 4 August were resolute in their pursuit of salary rights from the state, simultaneously offering a political critique of the prevailing situation and government. However, given the associated risks, most police either stayed silent or expanded preexisting practices of extortion to survive. As discerned from various social media comments, a prevailing sentiment emerged that ordinary citizens ultimately became the unfortunate victims of the salary crisis.
Lack of unity between people and police
Only a few ordinary citizens extended their solidarity towards the police officers grappling with the absence of their salaries, a reflection of the pervasive discontent with the police and their practices in Mozambique. Some even vented their frustrations on social media, asserting that, in their opinion, the police could endure salary delays and abandon their posts for as long as they wished, as this might equate to greater freedom for the general populace. Moreover, there was a prevailing apprehension among ordinary citizens that any police strike would potentially escalate into violence, leading to weapon misuse, vandalism, and theft by the police. The general perception was that the ultimate victims of such a strike would invariably be the ordinary citizens.
While the public's animosity towards the police doesn't encompass all police officers, the force as a whole is perceived as tainted by corruption and violence. As a young man in Tete articulated, “There are good police officers who respect their work and do everything to protect the citizen, but unfortunately this type of police agent is rare.” Over my nearly two decades of research on policing in Mozambique, I've encountered numerous instances of local-level police officers who diligently serve the community, addressing their social problems and crimes on a daily basis. However, the merits of this labor are often overshadowed by the endemic corruption that plagues the entire state system, a system that the police, in many ways, come to embody, enact, and are also victimized by. Reflecting this perspective of police victimization, some individuals on social media, during the period of missing salaries, directed their criticism not at lower-ranking police officers but rather at the Frelimo government for its mismanagement of state funds.
Nevertheless, a palpable chasm exists between the police force and the ordinary citizens of Mozambique, which impedes any unified claims and critique of the government. This division is not solely rooted in the day-to-day manifestations of corruption but is also deeply ingrained in the historical role of the police force, which has often been seen as safeguarding the interests and power of the ruling Frelimo elite, rather than those of ordinary citizens. The politicization of the police by the Frelimo party is a strong undercurrent, with many, including police officers themselves, feeling that they have little recourse but to toe the party line. This politicization has been particularly evident during popular uprisings, street demonstrations, and, indeed, elections since the 1990s.
Politicization of the Police: electoral violence and intimidation
The most recent municipal elections, which took place on 11 October 2023 in 65 urban constituencies, illustrate the extent to which the police are drawn into Frelimo's desperate attempts to retain power in the face of increasing support for the opposition in the country's cities. During the election campaign, police were seen supporting Frelimo while facing accusations of intimidating and threatening opposition candidates, particularly from Renamo, the primary opposition party, and MDM, the second-largest opposition party. These allegations included arbitrary arrests. While election day itself was relatively peaceful, videos circulating on social media depicted police officers either aiding or turning a blind eye to the forceful expulsion of journalists and civil society observers from certain polling stations. A Renamo candidate and mayor of Quelimane city was arrested by police for visiting polling stations in his constituency, accused of disturbing the voter count, but was eventually released with no charges.
These intimidations turned into overt police violence only a day after the elections and as the electoral results became disputed. Based on the parallel voter counts by civil society organizations, the opposition party Renamo had won at least five municipalities, including Matola, the most populous and economic hub of the country, and the capital city Maputo, which is Frelimo's historical stronghold. Renamo's celebration of victory in Maputo the day after elections went on peacefully, but in other cities, it was met with harsh police action, leading among other incidents to the injury of a child in Nampula and the killing of a 16-year-old boy in Cabo Delgado. A police spokesperson said that the police had "accidentally fatally shot" the boy when they were dispersing protesters.
The National Electoral Commission's announcement of the official election results shortly thereafter, dismissing opposition victories in all but one city (Beira held by MDM), ignited outrage among the opposition. This, in turn, led to a further escalation in police violence. Renamo filed appeals in court and organized a nationwide street demonstration on October 17, accusing Frelimo and the state's electoral bodies of election fraud, citing substantial evidence. During this day and subsequent demonstrations and marches by thousands of opposition supporters, the police deployed tear gas grenades, water jets, rubber bullets, heavily armored vehicles, and in some instances even live ammunition. The result was numerous injuries and at least five fatalities, according to reports from Human Rights Watch and other sources. Many peaceful protesters were arbitrarily arrested, and in Maputo, the police raided Renamo's headquarters, detaining at least 30 young supporters without arrest warrants. They were later released. In northern towns, demonstrators reacted to police repression with riots at the end of October, barricading roads, setting tires and rubbish bins ablaze, and even looting shops. These actions resulted in injuries to civilians and the death of a police officer. The excessive use of force by the police against peaceful protesters further escalated violence, eventually involving civilians as well.
In most cases, this police violence was carried out by the military-trained Rapid Intervention Unit, which also serves as riot police. Although there were reports of plainclothes police officers infiltrating protests to disrupt them, much evidence suggests that the violent police responses were orchestrated by the top echelons of the Frelimo-state apparatus to suppress the opposition. These actions were not the result of local police officers or station commanders targeting illegal breaches of public order. Statements by police spokespersons and the Minister of Interior, given to the media and parliament, downplayed the extent of violence committed by the police, admitting to only one fatality and blaming protesters for not following police guidelines for public order and security. As in the past, the outcome is likely to be impunity for the police's use of excessive force, perhaps involving the prosecution of a few police officers to give the appearance of state action, but without addressing the higher echelons of the state apparatus that ultimately incites police violence. It's worth noting that a considerable portion of the judiciary tends to render judgments favorable to the ruling party.
Ultimately, police officers are made scapegoats in the violent scenario orchestrated by Frelimo's efforts to maintain power in the face of apparent electoral defeat and allegations of widespread fraud. Undoubtedly, there are police officers who are loyal to the Frelimo state and willingly participate in suppressing the opposition. It is evident that elements within the higher ranks of the police force are deeply enmeshed in Frelimo's web of benefits and corruption. However, many ordinary police officers, based on my research over the past years, experience election periods and popular demonstrations as disruptions to their daily police work. They are involuntarily coerced into performing politicized roles, where the law and their everyday interactions with citizens are set aside to repress and control anyone opposing the Frelimo government. There is a strong sense of political manipulation of the police during these moments. According to one police officer in Maputo, this situation makes the police feel uncomfortable and compromised because, as he pointed out, "as police, we are apolitical. We are not supposed to engage in politics and take sides. But now, during elections, there is so much confusion." Police officers feel they have little choice but to support Frelimo during elections. As mentioned earlier, criticizing the government as a police officer carries significant risks. Meanwhile, the police are blamed for violence and intimidation. The complexity of this scapegoating intensifies when an increasing number of citizens become critical of the Frelimo government and cast their votes for the opposition, as is currently happening in neighborhoods of Maputo that were once Frelimo strongholds. Trust between the police and citizens is challenging to establish and maintain in this context.
The politicization of the police reflects the absence of a clear separation of state and government in Mozambique. In the context of elections and popular demonstrations challenging the government, this lack of separation of powers takes on a particularly violent character. As in any state, the police serve as the front-line agents of state violence, but the manner in which this violence is wielded reflects the specific nature of the state. This also applies to the endemic corruption within both the higher and lower echelons of the Mozambican police force. While international organizations, such as Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International, rightly call for investigations and prosecutions related to police violence in Mozambique during this year's municipal elections, it is insufficient to solely target police officers. The level of criticism and calls for accountability must delve deeper, addressing the increasing authoritarianism and corruption within the Frelimo-controlled state more broadly. As evidenced in the failed attempt by a few courageous police officers to raise concerns about the state's neglect of their rights and issues related to missing salaries, the police are as much victims of the state system as they are the agents of its violence. Conversely, there is little evidence to suggest that the police force would join the population in calling for political changes. When the population goes to the polls or expresses its frustrations and dissatisfaction, the police are perceived as unlikely allies. They are viewed as ensnared in the political embrace of the Frelimo party.
This analysis is based on fieldwork-based conversations with police and citizens in Maputo and in Tete and Manica provinces, by the author and Dambinho Noe. These are complemented by social media and national media sources, as well as the longer-term research by the author on policing in Mozambique.
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