George Orwell’s Animal Farm offers a timeless warning about political power: principles are easy to proclaim, but considerably harder to uphold when they become inconvenient. Those who demand accountability from others are not always eager to submit themselves to the same scrutiny. And in politics, victory has a curious habit of being mistaken for vindication. Win the battle, declare yourself innocent of everything, and leave the awkward questions for another day.
South Africa’s latest electoral dispute offers a compelling illustration of this political theatre. The Constitutional Court’s decision to restore 181 African National Congress (ANC) candidates to the ballot has settled an immediate legal battle. Yet it has also reopened questions about political maturity, electoral administration and the institutions upon which our democracy depends. The danger is that the celebration of victory will drown out the very questions that brought the dispute before the courts.
On 15 October 2026, the Constitutional Court overturned the Electoral Court’s earlier decision and directed the Electoral Commission of South Africa (IEC) to take the necessary steps to include the affected candidates in the forthcoming local government elections.
The dispute arose because candidate information had been uploaded to the IEC’s electronic nomination system, but the final submission process had not been completed before the deadline. The following day, the Commission extended comparable relief to 32 other political parties it considered similarly situated, while 13 additional parties did not meet the requirements for inclusion.
The immediate outcome is clear: the affected candidates can contest the elections. But the significance of the judgment extends beyond the fortunes of the ANC. It raises a question that deserves more than partisan celebration: what happens when the rules of the electoral game become the subject of a constitutional dispute?
Chapter 2 of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996, entrenches political rights. Section 19(3)(b) protects every adult citizen’s right to stand for public office and, if elected, to hold office. Political participation is not a favour dispensed by electoral authorities. It is a constitutional right exercised within a lawful electoral framework.
The Court’s intervention must be understood in that context. Restoring candidates to the ballot protects political participation; it does not confer political virtue. A court victory is not a character reference, nor is a successful legal challenge a certificate of administrative excellence. The judgment resolves a legal dispute, but it cannot settle every question about the conduct of the parties involved.
I would also caution against treating the reversal of the Electoral Court’s decision as proof that its judges acted unfairly. Courts disagree, judgments are overturned, and legal principles are tested through appeals. That is how a functioning judicial system operates. Allegations of bias require evidence, not merely disappointment with an outcome. The Constitutional Court’s reasoning must be examined before definitive conclusions can be drawn about the legal principles underpinning its decision.
Yet politics rarely waits patiently for legal reasoning. In our partisan arena, a favourable judgment can quickly become a coronation, while an unfavourable one is sometimes treated as evidence that the system is conspiring against the aggrieved.
The lawyers may be arguing over constitutional interpretation, but outside the courtroom, political supporters are already distributing medals for moral victory.
This is where the metaphor of the referee becomes useful. A referee is expected to apply the rules fairly, not to ensure that every team leaves the field satisfied.
The Constitutional Court’s role is to determine the legal dispute before it, not to endorse a political party or rescue its public image. The Court can decide whether a decision withstands constitutional scrutiny; it cannot decide whether a party deserves the electorate’s confidence.
Nor should a successful litigant escape scrutiny simply because it has won its case. Political organisations seeking the public’s mandate must demonstrate organisational discipline.
A party aspiring to manage municipal budgets, oversee procurement and deliver essential services should be able to meet the administrative requirements of contesting elections.
I would not suggest that one procedural failure proves a party incapable of governing. That would be reductive. But neither should we dismiss the episode as an inconsequential technicality. The irony is difficult to miss: an organisation seeking authority over public administration found itself in court over the completion of its own electoral administration.
The question is not whether administrative mistakes can happen. They can. The more important question is whether political organisations learn from them or simply celebrate when the consequences are reversed. If the lesson drawn from litigation is merely that a missed deadline can become somebody else’s problem, the democratic system learns very little from the experience.
The IEC, meanwhile, faces its own test. Its credibility rests on impartiality, transparency, consistency and competence. The Constitutional Court’s intervention does not, by itself, establish that the Commission lacks integrity. But institutional independence cannot become a shield against legitimate scrutiny.
The Commission’s decision to extend comparable relief to 32 other parties addressed an important principle: parties in materially similar circumstances should not receive different treatment simply because one has the resources to litigate. However, the episode also raises questions about the clarity of nomination procedures, the communication of requirements and the safeguards available when submissions remain incomplete.
If the rules are clear, they must be applied consistently. If procedures create avoidable uncertainty, they must be examined and improved. And if an institution changes its position following a court ruling, it must explain the basis for its decisions in a manner that strengthens public confidence. Fairness cannot be reduced to a principle invoked only after a dispute has erupted.
There is also a political economy dimension to this affair. Litigation requires money, legal expertise and time. Political organisations do not possess these resources equally. If the practical protection of electoral rights depends on a party’s capacity to sustain expensive court proceedings, access to justice risks becoming uneven. The answer is not to make deadlines meaningless, but to ensure that electoral procedures are clear, lawful and accompanied by accessible remedies.
The broader lesson, in my view, concerns the maturity of our democracy. Maturity is not measured by the volume of celebration after a judgment. It is measured by the willingness of political actors to accept scrutiny, acknowledge responsibility and respect institutions even when outcomes are inconvenient.
Political parties must defend their constitutional rights without evading their responsibilities. Courts must decide disputes independently, free from pressure to satisfy political constituencies.
The IEC must apply electoral rules consistently and explain its decisions openly. Citizens, in turn, must resist the temptation to reduce every institutional dispute to a contest between political heroes and villains.
I believe our public debate too often misses these distinctions. Diverse political currents interpret judgments through different ideological and partisan lenses, while legal opinions may differ on the implications of a ruling. But reductive portrayals of the dispute as an uncomplicated triumph for one side or a complete defeat for another obscure the institutional questions that matter most to voters.
Orwell’s lesson is not that every institution is corrupt or every political actor is hypocritical. It is that principles must be measured against conduct. Accountability cannot be demanded only of opponents. Constitutional rights cannot be invoked selectively. And institutional authority must never be confused with institutional infallibility.
The immediate legal battle may be over, but the responsibility to learn from it remains. Political organisations must examine their administrative controls. The IEC must ensure that its nomination procedures are clear, reliable and consistently applied. Citizens must assess candidates on their records, proposals and capacity to serve, rather than simply on the celebrations that follow a court ruling.
The Constitutional Court has played its role in resolving the dispute before it. But democracy is not a football match in which the final whistle absolves every player of the fouls committed along the way. A referee can settle a contest; the referee cannot guarantee that the players have learned to respect the rules.
The Court can open the way to the ballot box. It cannot manufacture political virtue, repair administrative weaknesses or command public trust. Those responsibilities remain with the political parties, the electoral institutions and, ultimately, the citizens whose votes confer the mandate to govern.
