During Hungary’s communist era (1949–89), when the country fell under Soviet influence after World War 2, equality before the law was abandoned. Justice became an ideological instrument.
Farmers, aristocrats and middle-class citizens — labelled “class aliens” — routinely received harsher sentences than members of the working class for similar offences. Many were evicted from their homes, and their property was confiscated. Ironically, their lavish homes and property were subsequently occupied by Communist Party cadres.
Over time this class-based logic even expanded to landowning peasants. The so‑called kulak trials targeted more than 300,000 people, stripping them of their property, land, livestock, freedom and, in some cases, their lives.
For those who survived the trials, access to employment was severely restricted. Following the Soviet model, Hungarian courts discarded the presumption of innocence; depending on your class categorisation, guilt was often assumed. By 1961 private land ownership had virtually disappeared, contributing to severe, state-induced food shortages that brought the country to the brink of famine.
More broadly, 20th-century totalitarian regimes — Hungary among them — were characterised by the arbitrary application of the law and the rigid division of society into ideological hierarchies, whether Marxist categories of oppressor and oppressed, or national socialist notions of superior and inferior.
Individuals were judged not by their actions, but by the group to which they were assigned. In such systems guilt became collective and automatic, impervious to evidence or due process. So-called “enemies” were defined according to ideology, condemned as “carriers of tendencies” rather than as actors responsible for specific deeds.
Unequal treatment before the law was justified in the name of “class justice”, historical grievance, utopian promises of the eventual equality of outcome, or racial prejudice.
This is the hallmark of a partisan state: one that deploys public power selectively in favour of a designated group — whether defined by class, race or ethnicity. Cloaked in the language of justice, equality or national renewal, political elites mobilise grievance, resentment and prejudice to entrench their authority.
South Africa offers its own cautionary tale. Under apartheid the state was explicitly partisan along racial lines, institutionalising discrimination and legal insecurity for the country’s black, coloured and Indian populations. More than three decades after the end of apartheid — and over 40 years since many of its divisive laws were repealed — the statute book now contains over 100 new laws that differentiate on the basis of race.
The lesson of history is clear: a partisan state breeds uncertainty and undermines social cohesion. Using racial classification to undo past injustices has not delivered the non-racial society envisaged in the constitution, or an economy that provides work opportunities for its growing population.
However they are framed, biased laws seldom produce good outcomes. As Brave New World author Aldous Huxley said: “The end cannot justify the means … because the means employed determine the nature of the ends produced.”
South Africa’s 1996 constitution provides a different path — one grounded in impartial governance. Impartiality, understood as the obligation to act without favour, prejudice or personal interest, lies at the heart of South Africa’s constitutional democracy.
It requires the state to treat like cases alike, to apply the law neutrally, and to act in the interests of the South African public as a whole. This principle does more than prohibit corruption, patronage and discrimination; it is a safeguard against the capture of the state for sectional interests.
Ultimately, it is the responsibility of South Africa’s public servants and policymakers to heed these historical lessons. Laws and policies must be conceived, enacted and applied in a manner that reflects impartiality and serves all citizens equally. That is not only faithful to the constitution — it is the essence of good governance.
• De Jager is a professor in the department of political science at Stellenbosch University.
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