Electoral reform or electoral control?
…the 2026 Electoral Process (Amendment) Bill red flags
By Kanyanta Chanda Kapwepwe
THE Electoral Commission of Zambia has officially published the Electoral Process (Amendment) Bill, 2026. Zambia is once again being told that changes to the electoral law are meant to “strengthen democracy”. On paper, the bill appears progressive, modernising voter registration, formalising proportional representation and tightening nomination procedures. But it exposes more serious red flags, which raises the question as to whether these amendments are expanding democratic participation or quietly tightening institutional control over elections.
The first red flag lies in the treatment of the Provisional Register of Voters. Under the existing law, citizens had up to 90 days to inspect and raise objections. The amendment collapses this window to just 14 days, while encouraging electronic inspection. Efficiency is important, but democracy is not a race. In a country where digital access remains uneven, shortening objection periods risks excluding rural voters, the elderly and the poor. A voters’ register is not merely an administrative tool; it is the gateway to citizenship. Speed should never trump inclusion.
The second and perhaps more politically consequential red flag is the introduction of mandatory adoption certificates for party-sponsored candidates. In ordinary times, this might be dismissed as administrative housekeeping. These are not ordinary times.
Under the amendment, only a candidate endorsed through an adoption certificate signed by the party secretary-general recognised by the Registrar of Societies may legally contest under a party’s banner. On paper, this appears procedural. In practice, it transforms whoever controls the “officially recognised party administration” into the sole gatekeeper of political participation. This matters profoundly in a context where the leadership of major opposition parties has been the subject of highly contested administrative changes at the Registrar of Societies, resulting in rival claims to legitimacy within the same political formation. Where factions exist, the law now confers decisive power not on party members, not on delegates at a convention, and not on the electorate, but on the office-bearer recognised in government records.
This implies that if any ruling party, now or in the future, manages to capture an opposition party faction and secure formal recognition from the Registrar of Societies, that ruling party alone indirectly acquires the legal authority to determine who may or may not stand under the captured faction party’s name. Those without its endorsement, regardless of grassroots backing or historical legitimacy, are barred from the ballot. The amendment, therefore, converts administrative recognition into electoral control. In a deeply polarised political environment, where shifts in party leadership have already produced fragmentation, defections, and public declarations about whether major opposition formations will contest the August 2026 general elections, this amendment raises a serious red flag.
The third red flag and perhaps the most consequential shift is the expanded discretionary power granted to the Electoral Commission of Zambia to disqualify parties or candidates from participation for failure to submit required documents such as an adoption certificate. To be clear, the amendment does not create an open-ended political veto. It establishes what may be described as a compliance-triggered exclusion regime. Under the new framework, exclusion may arise from failure to submit required documents such as an adoption certificate signed by the party secretary-general recognised by the Registrar of Societies; failure to meet constitutional qualifications; failure to rectify defects within a prescribed period; or failure to comply with proportional representation procedures. On paper, these are procedural safeguards designed to ensure order and legality. But in politics, procedure is power.
Where access to the ballot depends on documents signed by officially recognised party officials, strict filing deadlines, and determinations made by the Commission regarding compliance, the authority to interpret and enforce those requirements becomes decisive. In a calm political environment, such powers may operate quietly. In a tense and polarised climate, where party leadership recognition is contested, factions are in open conflict, and alliances are shifting ahead of a general election, compliance decisions can reshape the competitive landscape.
When defects must be corrected within timelines determined by the Commission, and failure results in outright rejection or forfeiture, administrative discretion acquires strategic weight. In effect, the amendment transforms technical non-compliance into potential electoral exclusion. It is not an arbitrary power, but it is a powerful one. And in an environment where political disputes are already entangled with administrative recognition at the Registrar of Societies, the line between regulatory enforcement and political consequence becomes dangerously thin. Sometimes, compliance power does not look dramatic or declare disqualification in bold letters. It can sometimes be just as decisive as a direct veto. In modern electoral politics, whoever controls the gateways often shapes the outcome.
The fourth and more troubling red flag that deserves serious scrutiny is the removal of the official mark on ballot papers. The ballot design and procedures have long served as anti-fraud safeguards in the electoral process. Therefore, the official mark is part of a trusted anti-fraud measure. In electoral systems where trust in institutions is already strained, removing visible safeguards without clear, publicly tested alternatives raises a huge red flag and risks fuelling suspicion, disputes and post-election litigation. Elections are not only about being free and fair; they must also be seen to be free and fair.
The fifth red flag is tying the allocation of the proportional representation seats exclusively to presidential vote performance. The introduction of proportional representation for women, youth and persons with disabilities is a brilliant development for inclusion and is very welcome. Zambia has long struggled with inclusive representation, and this framework promises corrective justice. However, tying the allocation of these seats exclusively to presidential vote performance creates a serious distortion. Parliamentary and local representation become subordinate to presidential elections, reinforcing executive dominance and weakening the independence of representative institutions. Inclusion should not come at the cost of balance.
The sixth red flag is the party list system, which further concentrates power within party leadership. Voters will no longer know who exactly they are electing under proportional representation. Candidates owe their seats not to citizens, but to party ranking decisions made behind closed doors. This weakens accountability and distances elected representatives from the people they supposedly represent.
The seventh red flag, which makes all these changes more concerning, is timing. Major electoral reforms introduced close to an election cycle violate democratic best practice. Electoral laws should stabilise competition, not reshape it midstream. Even well-intentioned reforms risk being interpreted as strategic rather than neutral, especially in a highly polarised political environment.
All these red flags taken together, the Electoral Process (Amendment) Bill, 2026, reveal a clear pattern; the bill appears to be an Ad Hominem Legislation (a law crafted to affect a particular person or group). The issue is not whether the Commission intends to act improperly. The issue is that it seems to decisively make participation in an election conditional upon satisfying suspicious, tightly controlled procedural gateways administered by executive political powers, especially when voter agency is narrowed, and procedural safeguards are thinned.
If Zambia is serious about credible elections in August 2026, reforms must expand participation, not manage it; empower voters, not sideline them; and protect institutions from the very temptation to overreach. Otherwise, what is being sold as electoral reform may be remembered as electoral control.
Kanyanta Chanda Kapwepwe is a governance analyst and senior lecturer at the Cape Peninsula University of Technology. He writes in his personal capacity.
