As South Africa enters voter registration week ahead of the 2026 local government elections, party-hopping in South African politics is once again in full swing.
This week, attention has turned to Liam Jacobs’ return to the Democratic Alliance after his brief association with the Patriotic Alliance. The move has reignited familiar debates about loyalty, principle and political survival. But beyond the headlines, a deeper question lingers in my head: what does it say about politics when changing sides becomes routine?
Ukuguqula Ibhatyi
In isiXhosa, there is a phrase: “ukuguqula ibhatyi”. Directly translated, it means “to turn your jacket over” ; wearing it inside out. Often used in the context of identity, in everyday use, it describes shifting allegiance depending on circumstance, convenience or advantage. People use it with a tone of scepticism, even disappointment. But the phrase is not new. It is rooted in lived experience.
During apartheid South Africa, the system often forced people to adapt in order to survive.
People did not always have the luxury of a fixed identity. Some changed surnames, some adjusted how they presented themselves, and others navigated racial classification systems that determined where they could live, work and belong. Classification was not always a matter of paperwork.
Officials sometimes pressed a pencil into a person’s hair if it fell out, you were classified one way; if it held, you were classified another. Appearance, texture and complexion carried legal consequences. My own grandfather, originally from Mount Frere in the former Transkei, later travelled to George for work. Because of his lighter complexion and curly hair, he eventually settled in a coloured community in Rosemoor. In that context, “turning the jacket” was not about politics.
It was about survival within a system that had already decided who you were before you could speak for yourself.
When the right to move becomes a problem
Politicians today are not navigating classification boards or survival laws. They operate in a constitutional democracy where voters place trust in parties and individuals based on promises, values and accountability. That is why party-hopping in South African politics continues to raise difficult questions.
Politicians are fully within their rights to change parties. The Constitution guarantees freedom of association. No one should feel trapped in a political organisation they no longer believe in. The problem is not the movement itself. The problem is the silence that so often accompanies it.
The accountability gap
When politicians leave one party for another, parties rarely give voters a full explanation beyond carefully worded statements and press briefings. Politicians frame the departure as principle. They present the arrival as progress. But the missing piece is accountability. What exactly changed? What broke down? What could not be resolved internally? And why should voters trust that the new political home is not simply a better strategic fit ahead of elections?
Too often, these questions go unanswered. Instead, politicians ask voters to move on. This is where “stomach politics” becomes difficult to ignore, political decisions driven not by ideology or public service, but by personal positioning, opportunity and survival within the political system itself.
South Africans are not naïve about this anymore. Many have watched politicians shift between parties that were once described as incompatible. Political language has softened overnight. Former critics have become allies without explanation cementing the phrase “there are no permanent friends nor permanent enemies in politics”. The jacket changes. The script remains familiar. And increasingly, trust wears thin.
A deeper crisis of political confidence
Yet it would be too simple to reduce this only to politicians. Because what is also unfolding is a deeper crisis of political confidence among voters themselves.
As voter registration week begins, political parties and the IEC are calling on South Africans to engage once again in the democratic process. But participation is not just about registration. It is about belief in the system itself.
The case for political education
One of the most overlooked challenges I believe facing South African democracy is political education. Many citizens recognise party colours and political personalities far more easily than they understand governance structures. Citizens often misunderstand local government responsibilities. Voters sometimes accept election promises without scrutiny. People often judge political decisions more on emotion than policy.
This creates space for performance politics, where image matters more than implementation, where loyalty takes shape around identity rather than accountability, and where switching parties can pass as transformation without deeper interrogation.
That gap matters
Because a democracy cannot function only on trust. It must also function on understanding. Political education does not mean telling people how to vote. It means equipping citizens to ask better questions, to understand what is realistic at local government level, and to hold leaders accountable beyond election cycles. Without that, voter frustration grows but voter power weakens.
Jackets will change. will anything underneath?
Ultimately, the question is not whether party-hopping in South African politics will continue. It will.
The question is what voters begin to do with that information.
This is where the current moment becomes important. The return of politicians like Liam Jacobs to previous parties is not an isolated event. It is part of a broader political culture where movement is frequent, parties manage their messaging carefully, and leaders often delay accountability until election season forces clarity. While supporters of different parties will interpret these moves differently, one response cuts across political lines. Many people will not only question individual sincerity. They will begin to question sincerity across all parties.
That is the real danger. When political movement becomes so common that voters can no longer distinguish between principle and positioning, trust collapses across the board.
At that point, “ukuguqula ibhatyi” is no longer just a phrase. It becomes a description of the entire political landscape.
As registration week continues, perhaps the most important question is not which party looks strongest right now. It is whether politics still belongs to service, or whether it has become something closer to performance. Because jackets will continue to change. The real test is whether anything underneath ever does.
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