South Africa is teetering on the edge of a democratic absurdity. As the country heads towards the 2026 local government elections, we are confronted with a staggering and shameful reality: hundreds of elected councillors, entrusted with managing municipal budgets worth millions, cannot read or write proficiently.
This isn’t a sensational claim, it comes from the department of co-operative governance and traditional affairs’ own skills audit, which found more than 300 councillors in KwaZulu-Natal alone who are functionally illiterate. That is not a typo. Three hundred public representatives are signing off on budgets and development plans they can’t even read.
Let’s call this what it is: a betrayal of democracy.
When an elected official cannot interpret a budget, a policy document, or even a municipal report, they are not representing their communities, they are occupying a seat in name only, while real decisions are made by those who can read, calculate and manipulate.
As Prof Susan Booysen warned, such councillors become “seat warmers”, mere extensions of their party bosses. That isn’t democracy. It’s political puppetry dressed up as representation.
The implications are devastating. Illiterate councillors are easy prey for corruption.
Dr Nonhlanhla Ngcobo’s recent PhD research exposes the depth of this crisis. Interviewing councillors across six municipalities, she found not only an alarming lack of literacy but also a profound ignorance of constitutional duties.
These are officials meant to uphold section 24 of the constitution, the right to a safe and healthy environment, yet many couldn’t articulate what that even meant. How can one safeguard environmental rights when one cannot understand the law?
The implications are devastating. Illiterate councillors are easy prey for corruption. They cannot scrutinise tenders, challenge inflated budgets or hold officials accountable. They become unwitting accomplices in the decay of governance that has left communities without water, electricity, or waste collection. When no-one is reading, the thieves run free.
And yet there is an uncomfortable truth we must confront: we, the voters, allowed this. We have elevated popularity over competence, loyalty over literacy. We have mistaken struggle credentials and charisma for capability. When communities elect councillors who cannot read the very documents that shape their lives, they are, in effect, surrendering power.
This is not about elitism or excluding grassroots leaders. It is about respecting the people’s mandate. Literacy is not a luxury — it is the minimum requirement for responsible governance. If councillors can’t read, they can’t lead.
Minister Velenkosini Hlabisa is right, education requirements for public office must be revisited. At the very least, councillors should hold a matric certificate. That is not an unreasonable barrier; it is a basic safeguard for accountability.
Political parties, too, must stop treating local government as a dumping ground for the unqualified or the loyal. Leadership academies, literacy training and mentorships are essential, not optional.
South Africa’s municipalities are already buckling under corruption, incompetence, and service delivery failures. The revelation that hundreds of councillors are illiterate is not merely embarrassing; it is catastrophic. It hollows out democracy from within, turning the people’s will into a paper exercise — one that some councillors cannot even read.
As we approach 2026, voters must ask harder questions: can my candidate read a budget? Can they understand the constitution they swear to uphold?
If the answer is no, the ballot should say no too, because democracy cannot survive on slogans and songs alone. It needs informed, literate and accountable leaders. Anything less is not representation, it’s a farce.
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