Ghana’s democracy is often praised for what happens on election day. Peaceful voting. Credible results. Orderly transfers of power.
But the most decisive democratic moment in Ghana—and across much of Africa—usually happens much earlier, far from polling stations and television cameras. It happens inside political parties, among a small group of insiders, long before the public is asked to choose.
That is why the lawsuit challenging delegate-based party primaries in Ghana matters so deeply. It is not just a legal dispute. It is a mirror held up to African democracy itself. At stake is a question many systems have avoided for years: who really chooses leaders—the people, or the gatekeepers who control access to the ballot?
Across Africa, political parties are not social clubs. They are the pipelines to state power. In dominant-party systems or competitive two-party democracies like Ghana’s, winning the party primary often determines who governs. Yet the rules that shape these primaries are frequently designed to empower a narrow selectorate—delegates, executives, or stakeholders—rather than the broader membership that does the work of campaigning, fundraising, and mobilisation.
This tension is not new. Delegate systems were adopted across the continent after independence to manage scale, prevent fragmentation, and impose discipline. Leaders feared that mass participation would inflame ethnic divisions, encourage populism, or destabilise young states. Delegates were meant to be trusted intermediaries—buffers between the masses and the machinery of power.
But over time, that stabilising logic hardened into something else. Delegate systems began to concentrate power, reward loyalty over legitimacy, and create quiet choke points where political ambition could be stalled without public explanation. What began as representation evolved into gatekeeping.
The Ghanaian case makes this reality visible.
When Popularity Meets the Delegate Wall
The urgency of the current challenge cannot be separated from the political moment inside the New Patriotic Party, shaped by the contrasting trajectories of Kennedy Agyapong and Dr. Mahamudu Bawumia. In the last presidential primary, Agyapong ran a campaign that clearly resonated with ordinary party members. His rallies were large. His message travelled widely. His appeal cut across regions and social lines.
That history matters because it is likely to repeat itself. Dr. Bawumia remains well positioned among delegates, strengthened by experience and long-standing party relationships. Kennedy Agyapong, despite name recognition and grassroots appeal, faces the same structural obstacles he faced before. The contest therefore risks feeling settled before it begins—not because party members have spoken, but because the selectorate is narrow.
It is this sense of inevitability that has pushed the debate into the courts.
When Party Rules Become a Constitutional Question
The filed action before the Supreme Court is not asking judges to pick candidates or rewrite party constitutions. It asks something more fundamental: how democratic must a political party be when it chooses someone who may realistically become President?
The plaintiffs argue that internal party rules cannot be treated as purely private when their effects are public and national. Candidate selection, they say, is not just another internal process—it is the gateway to constitutional power. When millions of registered members are excluded from that decision, while a small group exercises decisive control, internal democracy becomes hollow.
The case does not deny that delegate systems can exist. Its critique is sharper. It challenges the degree of power concentration and the resulting political inequality. When participation is reduced to mobilisation without voice, the democratic promise of party membership rings false. The lawsuit presses the Court to give real meaning to the idea that political parties must operate democratically, not just in rhetoric but in effect.
There are risks. Courts are traditionally cautious about intruding into party affairs. “Democratic principles” is an open-ended phrase, and judges may resist translating it into a single voting model. A sweeping judicial mandate for one-member-one-vote is unlikely.
But the case does not need a revolution to succeed. Its real power lies in forcing the Court to define minimum democratic standards—fairness, meaningful participation, limits on vote dilution, and accountability in candidate selection. That alone would reshape internal party politics without dismantling them.
Why This Matters Beyond Politics
To understand the stakes, imagine the same logic applied elsewhere. Suppose the Ghana Football Association chose its leadership through a vote limited to a narrow group of stakeholders, excluding thousands of registered clubs, players, coaches, and referees. Few would accept the argument that football governance is purely private. The national interest would be obvious. Public scrutiny would be immediate.
Political parties are no different. Like football associations, they may be private in form—but they are public in impact.
Could This Succeed? Globally, the Answer Is Mixed
Around the world, courts have been cautious about telling parties exactly how to choose candidates. Delegate systems, caucuses, and conventions are widely tolerated. But courts have intervened when internal rules produce extreme exclusion or entrenched inequality. The trend, especially in emerging democracies, has been toward calibrated intervention rather than sweeping reform.
That is the most likely path here. Not the abolition of delegate systems, but their recalibration.
The Deeper African Lesson
Africa’s democratic challenge today is no longer about whether citizens vote. It is about where power concentrates before they vote. This case forces that question into the open.
Whether it succeeds fully, partially, or not at all, it marks a turning point. It reminds parties that democracy does not begin on election day. It begins at the gate.
And increasingly, Africans are asking whether that gate should remain guarded by a few—or opened to the many.
By Amanda Clinton, Esq., MSc. (African Politics)
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