IEC’s Disinformation Crackdown Is Welcome — but the Battle for Truth Must Not End at the Ballot Box

The Electoral Commission of South Africa’s decision to introduce tougher rules against election-related disinformation ahead of the 4 November local government elections is both necessary and long overdue. In the final stretch of the municipal campaign, the battle for votes is inseparable from the battle for attention, and the battle for attention is increasingly fought with falsehoods. A fabricated claim, once confined to fringe pamphlets or rumour mills, can now reach millions of people within minutes through WhatsApp groups, social-media pages and instant messaging platforms. Disinformation is no longer a harmless nuisance at the margins of political debate; it is a potent force capable of distorting public opinion, destroying reputations and undermining confidence in democratic institutions. Under the new code, political parties and candidates who deliberately spread false or misleading information could face fines, restrictions on campaigning and, in the most serious cases, cancellation of a party’s registration. The IEC is right to insist that parties and candidates take responsibility for what they publish and what is published on their behalf. This is a crucial recognition that electoral accountability cannot stop at the boundary of an official statement or a party logo. A lie told by a candidate’s campaign manager, a supporter’s viral post, or a political organisation’s proxy is no less damaging to the integrity of the election than one told from a podium. Indeed, local government elections are the level of politics closest to ordinary people. Ward residents vote for councillors who must deliver services daily. If disinformation corrupts that decision, the consequences are immediate: potholes not fixed, grants not delivered, promises broken in the name of false mandates. The IEC’s new code therefore speaks not only to lawyers and political parties, but to every citizen who expects an honest vote. It says that an election is not a marketplace in which anything goes. It is a democratic ritual that loses its meaning if voters are deliberately deceived. In a time of record distrust in public institutions, the credibility of the election itself depends on measures like these.

Under the new code, the penalties for deliberate deception are significant, but there is more to the reform than the sanctions themselves. A party or candidate found to have knowingly spread false information may be fined, restricted in campaigning, or, in extreme cases, deregistered. Even more striking is the requirement to act quickly when a false statement is exposed: the code obliges culprits to correct the misinformation within 36 hours of becoming aware of it. This imposes a discipline that has too often been absent from South African political culture, where misinformation is frequently allowed to bloom until it is no longer useful, at which point a half-hearted correction is issued or no correction at all. The 36-hour rule recognises the oxygen of falsehoods: they thrive when they are allowed to travel faster than the truth. It forces parties to treat corrective communication with as much urgency as their original claim. It also places an important duty on candidates to ensure that their supporters and surrogates understand the standards to which they will be held. What is published “on behalf of” a party is no longer a murky category. If a campaign pays for an advertisement, authorises a spokesperson or benefits from a surrogate’s lie, it cannot disown the consequences. The IEC, for its part, will need to implement these rules with meticulous fairness, avoiding any partisan application. But the principle is sound: political organisations must be accountable for the information ecosystem they create around their campaigns. At the same time, the code’s deterrent effect will only work if penalties are meaningful and consistently applied. A fine that is merely a cost of doing business, or a suspension announced after the election, will not change behaviour. The deregistration option, however severe, is necessary for the small number of actors who treat disinformation as a core campaign strategy rather than an aberration. The code should therefore be seen as a scale of responses: correcting, penalising, restricting and, in the worst cases, removing those who demonstrate that they cannot participate in democratic politics without lying.

Having said that, the bigger question facing South Africa is why these protections should expire when the elections are over. The threat posed by disinformation does not vanish with the closing of the polls; if anything, it has become a permanent feature of the social-media age. The same platforms, the same techniques and often the same actors remain in place after polling day, ready to shape public perceptions, provoke conflict and undermine institutions. False claims about crime, public health, government decisions, courts and public officials can have consequences every bit as serious as election-related lies. In some cases, they can provoke panic, hatred, vigilantism or violence. A rumour about a paedophile ring can lead a mob to burn down a home. A false health claim can persuade parents to withhold life-saving vaccines from their children. A doctored video can make a public figure appear to say things they never said, and the correction, even if issued, may never catch up with the original lie. These are not theoretical concerns; in South Africa and across the world, disinformation has been linked to public-health failures, xenophobic attacks, school shutdowns, and attacks on journalists and police. Why should a lie that was dangerous enough to warrant electoral sanctions suddenly become lawful on 5 November? The answer is that it should not. The IEC’s intervention cannot be the closing line of the story; it must be the opening chapter of a broader debate about how a democracy protects itself. Disinformation is not just a problem during election cycles; it is a permanent condition of the digital public square. Algorithms reward outrageous content, echo chambers amplify it, and declining trust in traditional institutions makes it easier for lies to flourish. The state, civil society and citizens must therefore treat it with the same seriousness as any other threat to public safety and democratic resilience.

South Africa should therefore use the IEC’s intervention as an opportunity to consider making the deliberate and malicious dissemination of demonstrably false information, where it causes or is intended to cause serious harm, a permanent feature of the criminal justice framework. This is not a proposal for a general ban on “fake news” or an invitation for the state to become the censor of uncomfortable opinions. Rather, it is an argument that the law should treat the intentional manufacture and propagation of dangerous lies with the seriousness they deserve. South African law already criminalises forms of speech that cause harm: incitement to violence, defamation, fraud and hate speech, among others. The challenge is to craft a narrow and precise offence that catches the most harmful actors while sparing honest speakers. The law would need to require proof that a statement is false, that the person making it knew it was false, and that it was made with the intention of causing serious harm or with a reckless disregard for whether serious harm would follow. It would need to protect the author of a mistake, the satirist, the dissident, the critic and the citizen who genuinely repeats something they have heard. It would need to exclude all speech that is protected by the Constitution, even if it is outrageous or deeply offensive. The purpose would not be to purify public debate, but to prevent the deliberate use of lies as a weapon of mass disruption. In practical terms, such a law would be reserved for cases where the damage is substantial: when lives are endangered, public health is threatened, or democratic institutions are destabilised. It would require high standards of evidence and prosecutorial independence. It would place a meaningful burden on the state to show that the perpetrator crossed the line from free expression to malicious deception. This is demanding, but not impossible. Many democracies are today wrestling with exactly this problem, and their attempts to regulate social-media platforms and harmful online content show that constitutional freedom and legal accountability can coexist.

However, this should not become a licence for the state to criminalise criticism, satire, political disagreement or honest mistakes. The distinction between misinformation, legitimate opinion and deliberately manufactured falsehoods must remain clear, with strong safeguards for freedom of expression. In South Africa, the right to speak, to dissent and to challenge power is a hard-won constitutional achievement that must not be sacrificed in a moral panic over fake news. Any legal framework aimed at disinformation must therefore be built on the principle of restraint. It must be narrow enough to prevent the chilling of public debate, and it must be accompanied by clear prosecutorial guidelines, judicial oversight and public reporting. It should never be deployed against journalists for doing their jobs, nor against activists for campaigning, nor against ordinary people for sharing inaccurate information without malicious intent. The law should be aimed at the small number of calculated liars who knowingly engineer falsehoods in pursuit of substantial harms. Civil remedies, regulatory oversight of social-media platforms, fact-checking initiatives, media-literacy education and editorial independence all have a role to play. These are not substitutes for criminal accountability; they are complements to it. The goal is not a society in which the state is the final arbiter of every disputed claim. The goal is a society in which the weaponised lie is treated as a serious offence against the public good, while the oxygen of open debate remains protected. It is also important to recognise that overbroad laws can be weaponised by future governments. For that reason, any new legislation should be subject to the highest legal scrutiny, perhaps requiring a careful limitation-of-rights analysis under the Constitution. Only then can Parliament claim that it is fighting disinformation without destroying the very freedoms that make democracy meaningful.

Indeed, where individuals knowingly manufacture and spread lies with the intention of deceiving the public and causing serious harm, there must be meaningful consequences. Nothing in the defence of freedom of expression requires society to accept the use of deliberate falsehoods as an instrument of destruction. The IEC’s new rules are a welcome step toward that conclusion, but they are only a step. After the ballots are counted and the new municipal councils are sworn in, the threats to truth and trust will remain. The same malicious fabrication that could be punished if it occurred during an election will still be circulating on platforms, shaping beliefs and inciting emotions. South Africa should not wait for the next election to confront that reality. It should begin now to design a legal and civic architecture that protects the democratic information environment on a permanent basis. This means debating the contours of any new law, ensuring that it is not misused, and investing in the public institutions that can resist political capture. Of course, no law or code can single-handedly restore a decent public information landscape. Election officials, civil-society organisations, journalists and citizens all have responsibilities. The government must lead by example and stop confusing criticism with disinformation. Political parties must sign and respect the IEC code in spirit as well as letter. Social-media companies must stop tweaking algorithms in ways that reward anger and deceive users. But the state also has a duty to protect its residents, especially the vulnerable. If the new IEC measures can be enforced fairly, they will demonstrate that South Africa is willing to make difficult choices. The ultimate test is whether the country has the courage to extend the same protections beyond the ballot box, into the everyday lives of its communities. The 4 November election will be a test of the IEC’s capacity to act. The larger challenge will be proving that South Africa can defend the truth long after the campaigns have ended.