In the case of S v Van Niekerk (1970 (3) SA 655 (T)) he was unsuccessfully prosecuted before the High Court in Johannesburg for publishing an article entitled “Hanged by the neck until you are dead” in the South African Law Journal the previous year. Prof Van Niekerk had obtained the opinions of several practising lawyers about the imposition of the death penalty by South African courts and concluded from the data collected that:

Whatever conclusion one may draw from the results of these two questions the fact which emerges undeniably is that a considerable number of replying advocates, almost 50 per cent in fact, believe that justice as regards capital punishment is meted out on a differential basis to the different races, and that 41 per cent who so believe are also of the opinion that such differentiation is “conscious and deliberate”.

This narrow escape did not deter Prof Van Niekerk from speaking out and towards the end of 1971 he gave a speech at a protest meeting organised to protest against the Terrorism Act and a specific trial at that time being conducted in Durban in terms of this Act. Most of the witnesses called by the State to testify in this trial had been detained for long periods by the police and any reasonable person (which apparently did not include the majority of South African judges at the time) would have been deeply suspicious that they only agreed to testify because they were tortured.

In his speech at the protest meeting, Prof Van Niekerk criticised the vast majority of South African lawyers for remaining silent in the face of the application of this draconian piece of legislation, arguing that lawyers “should realise that by remaining silent in the face of what they know to be inherently unjust, cruel and primitive they are indeed sullying themselves and the reputation of their profession”. (Whether these words have any relevance for South Africa today, I will leave to the conscience of every reader — including those readers who are busy doing fee-paying legal work as I write this.)

He also argued that the very purpose of the detention clause of the Terrorism Act was to procure evidence by way of torture and asked whether in “the face of the grotesqueness of the situation as regards the application of the Terrorism Act” whether the time had not come for judges “to stand up more dynamically in the defence of the hallowed principles of the rule of law…”, which would require them to handle with caution all evidence procured in solitary confinement, thus practically robbing such evidence secured under detention of “all creditworthiness”.

In convicting Prof Van Niekerk, the Durban High Court found his words to have constituted an “invitation to Judges to embark upon a conscious refusal to give credit, in practically all cases, to evidence obtained in the manner referred to, as a means of killing or rendering ineffective those parts of the Terrorism Act which make such things possible, and in doing so to approach their duties in a manner which is incompatible with their duty, C and the oath which they took, to do justice without prejudice”.

The judge based his conviction of Van Niekerk on the ground that although he had not actually intended to bring some influence to bear upon the judge trying the terrorism case then before the court, the above-mentioned “invitation” nevertheless had a tendency to influence that court, and thus to obstruct the course of justice. The conviction was later confirmed by the Appellate Division in a judgment written by then Chief Justice Ogilvie Thompson, who held that the test to be applied for contempt of court was “whether the statement or document in issue tends to prejudice or interfere with the administration of justice in a pending proceeding”.

Those dark days are long past and today no academic or lawyers will be convicted for contempt of court for making the kind of statements that Prof Van Niekerk made back in 1971. The constitutional guarantee of freedom of expression, read with the various provisions safeguarding the independence of the judiciary have made it very difficult to secure a conviction in this kind of contempt of court cases. In the Midi Television judgment handed down a few years ago, the Supreme Court of Appeal also explicitly rejected the dicta of the Appellate Division in the Van Niekerk case, stating that:

What is required by all those tests (implicitly, even if not always expressed) before a ban on publication will be considered is a demonstrable relationship between the publication and the prejudice that it might cause to the administration of justice; substantial prejudice if it occurs; and a real risk that the prejudice will occur. In my view nothing less is required in this country and to the extent that the pre-constitutional decisions of this court in Van Niekerk …. might suggest otherwise I do not think they are consistent with what is to be expected in contemporary democracies. But merely to ask whether there is indeed a risk of prejudice that meets those criteria does not end B the enquiry. For as I indicated earlier, the limitation must not only be directed towards a permitted end, but must also be no more than is necessary to achieve its permitted purpose.

Robust criticism of court judgments in the media and by legal academics and even politicians are now the order of the day and when a judge makes statements (in his or her judgments or in extra–curial writing) that are sexist, racist, homophobic or that otherwise displays a lack of respect of the founding values of our Constitution, it is to be expected that lawyers, journalists and legal academics will criticise that judge harshly.

A failure to speak up would constitute a betrayal of the lawyer’s ethical duty spoken about by Prof Van Niekerk all those years ago. Every patriotic citizens who believes that it is important to defend the Constitution and the democracy it has brought into existence may well feel compelled from time to time to criticise court judgments and the actions or omissions of certain judges who do not measure up to basic ethical standards we have come to expect from judges.

Of course, not everyone sees the matter in this way. During the Judicial Service Commission (JSC) interview with the current nominee for the position of Chief Justice, Minister Jeff Radebe blasted Justice Mogoeng Mogoeng’s critics (who had raised concerns about  his suitability for appointment because of statements he had made in his judgments and about his intimate involvement in a deeply homophobic church) stated that there had been a “vicious campaign against your person and dignity”. And last week, at the funeral of the late Judge Fikile Bam, the Chief Justice himself complained bitterly because “sitting and retired judges criticise their serving colleagues and do so viciously without offering alternative solutions to perceived wrongs”.

These comments raise anew questions about where one should draw the line and when criticism of court judgments and of judges would overstep the mark. Surely, where criticism of a judge, his or her behaviour inside or outside a court and the reasoning used by a judge in his or her judgments, relate directly to the fitness of that judge for judicial office or to the question of whether the judge respects the constitutional values of freedom, equality and human dignity, it will be difficult to imagine that such criticism would constitute contempt of court.

This rule may not apply to sitting or retired judges who should normally not comment on the judgments of other judges or on cases that might still come before a court. But when the Rule of Law is threatened or the independence of the judiciary or the constitutional system itself is under attack, then judges — both retired and sitting — might well have an ethical duty to speak out and not to remain silent like so many lawyers did in decades of apartheid rule. When to speak out will always be a difficult ethical issue and different judges will draw the line differently, but surely not speaking out may sometimes be far more unethical than speaking out (and then offending one’s former or current colleagues on the bench)?

The criticism of members of the judiciary might well be experienced as “vicious” by those judges who are not used to being criticised or who are particularly insecure and thin-skinned. Some criticism might well overstep the mark, especially where the criticism is extremely personal in nature and where it has no bearing on what the judge had actually done or said.

If I were to write that judge X was a drunk or that judge Y was a womaniser (without having credible evidence to back this up and without this being pertinent at all to the ability of that judge to act in an independent and impartial manner and according to the highest ethical standards) I would suspect that my criticism would go beyond what is acceptable in a constitutional democracy. But if I analysed the judgement written by judge X and concluded from this analysis that judge X is a sexist or a homophobe, I should be at liberty to say so – as long as I provide cogent reasons for my argument.

Not saying anything and keeping silent in the face of egregious ethical breaches by a judges or in the face of displays of extreme prejudice in the form of racism, sexism, homophobia or xenophobia by a judge, would often be cowardly, not professional and ethically correct. Whether a judge criticised in this manner experience the criticism as vicious or not will, from an ethical perspective, be neither here nor there.

It must be acknowledged that judges are often in a difficult position as they are not supposed to answer their critics and should really only speak through their judgments. They might feel that some criticism by other judges, lawyers or legal academics or by the media is unfair or off the mark and might bristle at know-it-all lawyers and academics who argue that they have gotten the law wrong or that they have written a judgment that demonstrates a decided lack of respect for women, black people or gay men and lesbians.

But in a constitutional democracy — unlike in Barend Van Niekerk’s apartheid South Africa — they would normally not be able to invoke the criminal law to have the critic charged with contempt of court. And a good thing this is too, because in the absence of robust criticism of judges, the constitutional dialogue between judges, lawyers, academics and the executive would end and judges would not feel that they are in any way accountable for their judgments.

And if judges — retired or currently serving — never speak up about perceived moves to undermine the Rule of Law and the constitutional democracy itself, one may well warn them (just as Barend Van Niekerk warned lawyers back in 1970) that through their silence they might indeed be “sullying themselves and the reputation of their profession”.

PS: I am in no way implying that the draconian and oppressive system under which Prof Van Niekerk laboured can be compared with our constitutional democracy  and the legal system we work under now. What I am arguing is that silence is not always the right option and that truly wise and brave judges, lawyers and academics will remain vigilant and will constantly ask themselves if their silence is contributing to injustice or not.

Writing in the Sunday Times yesterday, he argued that the SCA’s “reliance” on the adverse findings against Simelane made by the Ginwala Enquiry  was misplaced. Prof Motala contends that the SCA judgment suggested that the Ginwala Enquiry findings against Mr Simelane “represent objective truths and something the President was bound by”. This was wrong because the SCA, he argued, conspicuously ignored questions about the nature of the Ginwala Enquiry. If the Enquiry was not an independent and impartial tribunal under the Constitution (which it clearly was not), then the probative value of its findings would be limited.

Prof Motala — correctly in my view — zooms in on the most difficult aspect of the case, namely the fact that there was no clear finding by an independent and impartial tribunal before the SCA which had concluded that Mr Simelane is not a “fit and proper person with due regard to his or her experience, conscientiousness and integrity” as required by section 9 of the NPA Act.

The SCA considered the findings of the inquiry to be an objective truth and not something for the President to assess. The court pays lip service to the core values of the Constitution such as the rule of law and legality. The ultimate decision and the reasoning, which underpins the result, are extraordinarily brazen. It signifies an abject dereliction of the court’s judicial function and lack of respect for the core values of the Constitution. The inquiry was neither a court of law nor a competent independent tribunal in terms of what our Constitution or international human rights would require. Instead, it was an ad hoc inquiry led by a political appointee (the former speaker of the National Assembly) selected by a prior President during a period of Machiavellian subterfuge and political maneuverings within the ruling party. The court takes no cognizance of this reality.

The case presented the SCA with a difficult problem. Section 9 of the NPA Act sets out objective minimum criteria that the NDPP must comply with if his appointment is to be deemed to be legally valid. If the appointee is not fit and proper with due regard to his experience, conscientiousness and integrity, the appointment is invalid. But what happens if there are serious questions about whether these minimum requirements have been met by the appointee, but no definitive finding about whether an appointee meets these requirements have been made by an independent and impartial tribunal? What is the duty of the court to enforce respect for the Rule of Law, when the evidence placed before it is inconclusive?

As the SCA pointed out, the Constitutional Court has stated on numerous occasions that the exercise of power by the President is constrained by the principle of legality, which is implicit in our constitutional ordering. Firstly, the President must act within the law and in a manner consistent with the Constitution. He or she therefore must not misconstrue the power conferred. Secondly, the decision must be rationally related to the purpose for which the power was conferred. If not, the exercise of the power would, in effect, be arbitrary and at odds with the rule of law.

Prof Motala argues that the SCA had wrongly relied on the findings of the Ginwala Enquiry (which he argued that court took to be the “objective truth”) to find that the appointment did not meet the objective requirements prescribed by section 9 of the NPA Act. It seems to me that although Prof Motala identified the factual difficulties surrounding the case, he misunderstood the legal reasoning of the SCA (and hence misrepresented the scope of that judgment).

The SCA had not, as far as I can tell, taken the findings of the Ginwala Enquiry to be the “objective truth”. If it had done so, Prof Motala’s criticism would be completely valid. What the SCA did do, was to find that the findings of the Ginwala Enquiry (and the extremely negative comments about Mr Simelane’s integrity made by judges of two different courts) raised serious questions about whether Mr Simelane met the objective requirements as set out in the NPA Act (requirements included in the Act to ensure the independence of the NPA) and that this required the President to follow a systematic procedure to determine whether these findings and comments disqualified Mr Simelane from being appointed NDPP or not.

Because there were serious question about Mr Simelane’s legal fitness for the job, the President had a duty to engage in a real and earnest manner with the issues raised. According to the SCA, his failure to do so was irrational as there was no rational link between the purpose of the exercise of the power (appointing a NDPP who is fit and proper and who will safeguard the independence of the NPA) and the manner in which the power was exercised.

(The Constitutional Court established this principle that the manner in which a power is exercised to achieve a specific purpose is relevant when determining whether the principle of legality had been satisfied in the Albutt case where it found that the President had acted irrationally when he approved the pardoning of apartheid era criminals in order to achieve reconciliation without allowing for consultation with the victims of the criminal offences. By failing to allow for a process of consultation with the victims, there was no rational connection between the purpose of achieving national reconciliation and the act of pardoning the apartheid era criminals.)

The SCA argument thus essentially boils down to this: Given the questions raised about Mr Simelane’s fitness to hold office, the principle of legality required the President — at the very least — to undertake a proper enquiry of whether the objective requirements of section 9(1)(b) were satisfied to ensure the independence of the NPA. What was required was for the President to obtain sufficient and reliable information about the candidate’s past work experience and performance; sufficient and reliable information about the candidate’s integrity and independence; and in cases like that of Mr Simelane where the candidate is the subject of allegations calling his fitness to hold office into question, a satisfactory process to determine the veracity of the allegations in a reliable and credible fashion.

Where Prof Motala goes wrong, in my view, is by somehow reading the SCA judgment as accepting the findings of the Ginwala Enquiry about Mr Simelane as objectively true and as binding the President to these findings. As far as I can tell, it did not do anything of the sort. As the SCA judgment clearly states:

There may well be answers forthcoming from Mr Simelane on the issues raised by the [Ginwala Enquiry] report, but at the very least they required interrogation [by the President].

What made the appointment irrational and unlawful was that there was not — in the view of the SCA – sufficient interrogation of the various findings and statements by the Ginwala Enquiry and by the judges of two different courts which cast doubt on Mr Simelane’s fitness to hold office. (Requiring interrogation of the findings of the Ginwala Enquiry can surely not be equated – as Prof Motala does -with accepting these findings as objectively true?) Thus, said the SCA, the process followed by the President was not rationally related to the purpose of the appointment — the safeguarding of the independence of the NPA.

It is so that the Constitutional Court may look at all the facts and may find that there was indeed sufficient interrogation by the President of the various adverse findings against Mr Simelane and the various adverse comments made by judges of the High Court and the Constitutional Court about Mr Simelane’s integrity. Or it may find — somewhat contradicting its Albutt decision — that in the absence of a finding by a court that Mr Simelane was fit and proper, the President was not required to follow a more onerous process of actually considering and weighing all the negative comments made about Mr Simelane by the Ginwala Enquiry and by judges of the High Court and the Constitutional Court.

If I was Mr Simelane’s lawyers I would strongly push the first point (the second point seeming to be rather difficult to sustain) by highlighting exactly what President Zuma had done to interrogate the various adverse findings and comments against Simelane and by arguing that the facts demonstrated that the President had indeed followed a procedure that was rationally related to the purpose of his exercise of power.

Now, this might be difficult to show, given the fact that the President had previously argued that as the democratically elected head of the executive he had the absolute power to decide whether Mr Simelane was fit and proper. (And legally this argument was perhaps not the wisest one to have made in the High Court and before the SCA, as it misconstrued the nature of the requirement of s 9 and ignored the fact that section 9 set some minimum objective criteria that had to be met before the appointment of the NDPP could be deemed to be valid.) But a different court may well look at the evidence and conclude that a less onerous form of interrogation was required and that the President had satisfied this less onerous standard of interrogation.

My view is that one could thus easily criticise the SCA judgment on the basis that it had not given due regard to the facts placed before the court by the President and the Minister of justice. What one could not plausibly do without misconstruing the judgment of the SCA, was to argue that the SCA had accepted the findings of the Ginwala Enquiry as objectively true and then lambasting the SCA for playing politics. The latter line of reasoning seems at best to completely misread the judgment and at worst to deliberately misrepresent it for political purposes.

By December 1996 that Court had already declared invalid the death penalty as well as action taken by then President Nelson Mandela. It had confirmed the constitutional validity of the amnesty provisions in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Act and had sent the final Constitution back for redrafting because the draft had failed to conform to the 34 Constitutional Principles agreed to by negotiators before the 1994 election.

In short, by the time the final Constitution was signed by President Mandela 15 years ago, the Constitutional Court had demonstrated a clear intention to do its job properly by declaring invalid acts of Parliament and actions of the executive which did not conform to the provisions of the supreme Constitution. 

President Mandela might well have had reason to be miffed by the Constitutional Court because in the Executive Council of the Western Cape Legislature case it had found that the Parliament had unconstitutionally tried to delegate law making power to President Mandela and that his exercise of powers in terms of this delegation was thus unconstitutional. (This judgment was one of the judgments relied upon by those who challenged the unconstitutional attempts by President Jacob Zuma to extend the term of office of the former Chief Justice Sandile Ngcobo.)

President Mandela might therefore have expressed concerns about the “intrusion” of the Constitutional Court into the realm of “policy making” and might have warned that the work of the Constitutional Court will be assessed to determine whether that court is acting in a way that questions the power of the democratically elected legislature and the executive. Yet, in his speech at Sharpeville 15 years ago President Mandela did no such thing. Instead he said the following. 

Friends and compatriots;

By our presence here today, we solemnly honour the pledge we made to ourselves and to the world, that South Africa shall redeem herself and thereby widen the frontiers of human freedom.

As we close a chapter of exclusion and a chapter of heroic struggle, we reaffirm our determination to build a society of which each of us can be proud, as South Africans, as Africans, and as citizens of the world.

As your first democratically elected President I feel honoured and humbled by the responsibility of signing into law a text that embodies our nation`s highest aspirations.

In writing the words which today become South Africa’s fundamental law, our elected representatives have faithfully heard the voice of the people. To the Constitutional Assembly, and to its Chairperson and Deputy Chairperson who guided it through a complex and arduous process, we owe thanks.

We owe thanks to the Constitutional Court which has proved a true and fearless custodian of our constitutional agreements.

In centuries of struggle against racial domination, South Africans of all colours and backgrounds proclaimed freedom and justice as their unquenchable aspiration. They pledged loyalty to a country which belongs to all who live in it.

Those who sought their own freedom in the domination of others were doomed in time to ignominious failure.

Out of such experience was born the understanding that there could be no lasting peace, no lasting security, no prosperity in this land unless all enjoyed freedom and justice as equals.

Out of such experience was born the vision of a free South Africa, of a nation united in diversity and working together to build a better life for all.

Out of the many Sharpevilles which haunt our history was born the unshakeable determination that respect for human life, liberty and well-being must be enshrined as rights beyond the power of any force to diminish.

These principles were proclaimed wherever people resisted dispossession; defied unjust laws or protested against inequality. They were shared by all who hated oppression, from whomsoever it came and to whomsoever it was meted.

They guided the negotiations in which our nation turned its back on conflict and division.

They were affirmed by our people in all their millions in our country’s first democratic elections.

Now, at last, they are embodied in the highest law of our rainbow nation.

This we owe to many who suffered and sacrificed for justice and freedom.

Today we cross a critical threshold.

Let us now, drawing strength from the unity which we have forged, together grasp the opportunities and realise the vision enshrined in this constitution.

Let us give practical recognition to the injustices of the past, by building a future based on equality and social justice.

Let us nurture our national unity by recognising, with respect and joy, the languages, cultures and religions of South Africa in all their diversity.

Let tolerance for one another’s views create the peaceful conditions which give space for the best in all of us to find expression and to flourish.

Above all, let us work together in striving to banish homelessness; illiteracy; hunger and disease.

In all sectors of our society – workers and employers; government and civil society;
People of all religions; teachers and students; in our cities, towns and rural areas, from north to south and east to west – let us join hands for peace and prosperity.

In so doing we will redeem the faith which fired those whose blood drenched the soil of Sharpeville and elsewhere in our country and beyond.

Today we humbly pay tribute to them in a special way. This is a monument to their heroism.

Today, together as South Africans from all walks of life and from virtually every school of political thought, we reclaim the unity that the Vereeniging of nine decades ago sought to deny.

We give life to our nation`s prayer for freedom regained and continent reborn;

God bless South Africa;
Nkosi Sikelel’ i Afrika;
Morena boloka sechaba sa heso;
God seen Suid-Afrika.

I quote President Mandela’s full speech above to remind us all – on this fifteenth anniversary of our Constitution - of President Mandela’s commitment to the Constitution and the supremacy of the Constitution enforced by a fearless Constitutional Court. Lest we forget.

The answer is not clear. After all, in a world in which a “pro-transformation” government often acts in an “anti-transformation” manner when the financial interests of some of its donors, benefactors and family members or friends of the President or other cabinet ministers are at stake, the cabinet might well argue — in truly Orwellian manner — that a pro-transformation judicial decision is in fact anti-transformation.

These questions take on an added importance in the light of the seemingly bizarre statement recently issued by the cabinet about the need to assess the judgments of the Constitutional Court “to establish how the decisions of the court have impacted on the lives of ordinary citizens and how these decisions have influenced socio-economic transformation and the reform of the law”.

Last week the Constitutional Court, in the case of Aviation Union of South Africa and Another v SAA and Others, handed down a judgment in an appeal from the Supreme Court of Appeal (SCA) in which that court ruled that workers affected by an outsourcing agreement in which part of a business is transferred as a going concern would not be protected — despite the provisions of section 197 of the Labour Relations Act which protected workers involved in an outsourcing agreement — if the outsourcing agreement was terminated and a second outsourcing agreement entered into.

SAA had outsourced maintenance services to a company called LGM for a fixed period (and transferred that part of its business as a going concern to LGM) but this outsourcing agreement was not renewed. SAA was planning to issue tenders for the provision of the services previously provided by LGM. If the interpretation by the SCA had been endorsed by the Constitutional Court, it would have meant that the employees of SAA (and later LGM) who enjoyed protection afforded by section 197 at the stage of the first outsourcing agreement to LGM would be left with no protection if the same business was again transferred in terms of a second or further outsourcing agreement to another company.

The Constitutional Court had already interpreted section 197 in National Education Health and Allied Workers Union v University of Cape Town and Others, (NEHAWU) where it stated that the correct approach to interpreting the section was:

to construe the section as a whole and in the light of its purpose and the context in which it appears in the LRA. In addition, regard must be had to the declared purpose of the LRA to promote economic development, social justice and labour peace. The purpose of protecting workers against loss of employment must be met in substance as well as in form. And, as pointed out earlier, it also serves to facilitate the transfer of businesses. The section is found in a chapter that deals with unfair dismissal. Construed against this background, the section makes provision for an exception to the principle that a contract of employment may not be transferred without the consent of the workers.  Subsection (1) says so and it makes it possible to transfer the business on the basis that the workers will be part of that transfer.  This will occur if the business is transferred as a going concern.

Only a few minutes after the statement was released my phone started ringing as journalists anxiously sought confirmation that this statement must be read as a full-frontal attack on the independence of the judiciary. Journalists focused especially on the announcement that cabinet agreed to an approach to the transformation of the judicial system that would include an ”assessment of the decisions of the Constitutional Court”, to be “undertaken by a research institution to establish how the decisions of the court have impacted on the lives of ordinary citizens and how these decisions have influenced socio-economic transformation and the reform of the law”.

However, on its face, this statement could be viewed as a positive development. If a truly independent and reputable research institution conducts such an assessment, it will inevitably find that the decisions of the Constitutional Court – perhaps more than the actions of the legislature and the executive — have by and large impacted positively on the lives of ordinary citizens and have facilitated socio-economic transformation. Where the Constitutional Court has handed down judgments that could be viewed as anti-poor, the decisions have almost always endorsed the policies of the government.

I am thinking, for example, of the Mazibuko judgement in which the installation of pre-paid water meters in Phiri, Soweto were unsuccessfully challenged by the residents of that area. The policy was devised and implemented by the ANC-led Metro government of Johannesburg and in my view discriminated against poor black residence of parts of Soweto. The Constitutional Court declined to intervene because the Metro’s policy was adapted over time.

However, in many other cases, the Constitutional Court has either endorsed transformative policies of the government or declared invalid anti-poor policies and laws passed by the ANC national or provincial governments. In the Grootboom case, the Treatment Action Campaign case, the Khosa case, the Jaftha case, and the Glennister case the Constitutional Court handed down judgments that had the effect of extending social and economic rights benefits to the poor, protected them from discrimination and unfair treatment or placed duties on the government to fight corruption, the very corruption that disproportionately affect the lives of the poor and the marginalised who depend on the honest and efficient state to provide it with the minimum basic goods and services required for them to survive and live a meaningful life.

The most telling case in this regard is the judgment of the Constitutional Court in the case of Abahlali Basemjondolo Movement SA and Another v Premier of the Province of Kwazulu-Natal and Others in which the Constitutional Court struck down sections of the KwaZulu-Natal Elimination and Prevention of Re-emergence of Slums Act. This Act, passed by the ANC-led legislature in KwaZulu-Natal, represented a full frontal attack on the poor, the homeless and those living in informal settlements. It might well have been passed in an attempt to undermine Abahlali Basemjondolo and to provide the government with legal tools to harass its members. The Act would have required landlords to evict all “slum dwellers” (a term last used by the apartheid government in the 1960ties) and was thus found to breach the right of access to housing guaranteed in the Constitution.

A credible report assessing the work of the Constitutional Court will have to come to the conclusion reached above, answering the very criticism of Mantashe, Zuma and others in the ANC who have convinced themselves that the courts interfere with the abilities of the other branches of government to effect socio-economic transformation. Any other conclusion will not be credible and no academic worth his or her salt would put their name to a report that concludes differently. If the assessment is done properly, it may therefore help to silence critics of the Constitutional Court.

This does not mean that other aspects of the cabinet statement are not worrying as they suggest a complete lack of respect for the separation of powers doctrine, which is inherent in a system of checks and balances in a constitutional democracy with a supreme Constitution. Two statements in particular can be interpreted to mean that the executive wishes to meet privately (read, in secret) with members of the judiciary to “engage” judges and to try and convince them that they should stop finding that the government is in breach of the Constitution. Notably the statement says:

Thirdly, to affirm the independence of the judiciary as well as that of the executive and parliament with a view to promoting interdependence and interface that is necessary to realize transformation goals envisaged by the Constitution. ….. Appropriate mechanisms be developed to facilitate for regular interface between the three spheres of the State to enhance synergy and constructive engagement among them in pursuit of common transformative goals that are geared to benefit the society at large.

There is nothing wrong with the leadership of the judiciary engaging the executive on issues dealing with access to justice and the better running of the judicial system. The government is elected to provide better access to justice and has to ensure that the system works well. In as much as formal discussions between the branches of government can facilitate the better functioning of our court system and easier access to courts, the move should be welcomed.

However, it is absolutely inappropriate for the executive to engage judges in a way that would even give the appearance that the members of the executive are trying to persuade judges to make decisions in individual cases that are more in line with the policy choices of the government. This would represent a full frontal attack on the independence of the judiciary and the system of checks and balances put in place by our Constitution.

Judges usually do not engage anyone about their past or future judgments (no matter what Judge President John Hlophe might think). They speak through their judgements and engage in this formal sense in a dialogue with the other two branches of government who can then respond appropriately to the judgments of the courts to ensure that they comply with the Constitution. Judges do not and cannot be seen to engage with members of the executive with a view of achieving “synergy” between the views of the executive and the judiciary.

In a constitutional democracy any synergy that exists between the executive and the judiciary is imposed by the various provisions of the Constitution as interpreted by the Constitutional Court. The judiciary is in dialogue with the executive in a formal way through their judgments but they are not “interdependent” with the other branches of government in the way hinted at by the statement (in the sense that they have to meet with the executive and agree on a plan of action on how best to effect transformation without embarrassing the bumbling lawyers appointed by the President and Parliament). If this is what the statement implied, it is wrong and dangerous and the intentions expressed in it would then be proposing an unconstitutional breach of the separation of powers doctrine, which is a doctrine that is deeply entrenched in our constitutional law.

What is needed is for this statement to be clarified. As it stands it can easily lead to the conclusion that the cabinet has a particularly dangerous and unconstitutional view of the relationship between the executive and the members of the judiciary. The judiciary — unlike the legislature and the executive — is completely independent and is required to be seen to be independent from the other branches of government. Secret talks about the transformative goals of the government with a view to “pull together” (which could easily mean, pull in the same direction as the executive – even when it acts in breach of the Constitution) would therefore not be acceptable. Indeed, it would represent a shocking attack against the Constitution itself.

As I suggested, the statement could, at a stretch, be interpreted differently to mean only that the executive would like to engage the leadership of the judiciary to improve access to justice and the efficiency of the courts. If that is the case, this should be made clear. If, however, the cabinet believes that it is appropriate for them to have secret chats with members of the judiciary to ensure policy synergies between them and the judiciary so that judges would not declare invalid the bumbling actions of the legislature and the executive, then the cabinet is shockingly ignorant and is embarking on a road to destroy our constitutional democracy. No judge who respects the Constitution would be party to such talks.

This Sunday, City Press uncovered an unreported judgment (now online in the Seminar Room) of the nominee in which Mogoeng, reviewing the case of a woman brutally assaulted by her boyfriend, reduced the man’s sentence from 2 years in jail to a fine of R2000. The woman was tied to a vehicle with wire and dragged at a “fairly high speed” behind the car for some 50 metres on a gravel road. The paper says that after hearing the matter on review in 2001, Mogoeng held that the two years sentence of Eric Mathibe was “too harsh by any standards”, noting, among other things, that he had been “provoked” by the complainant.

Mogoeng noted the complainant did not sustain “serious injuries”. She had several abrasions on her stomach, right leg and both knees. The victim was in pain, but Mathibe refused to let her have medical treatment on the day of the incident. He took her to consult a doctor the following day. The trial magistrate defended the sentence by saying assault on women was a problem in the district and that the crime was “barbaric and ancient”. Mogoeng seemingly did not agree, handing down a judgment that would surely upset any self-respecting gender activist. It would be akin to a judge setting aside a jail sentence of a farmer who had seriously assaulted a farm worker and had dragged the farm worker behind his bakkie on the basis that the sentence was too harsh (something, alas, that is not unknown to our judicial system).

City Press and its sister paper Rapport also reported that Mogoeng belongs to Winners Chapel International church, an institution that believes homosexuality is a perversion and members can buy the Bishop’s book on how to get divine deliverance from it. The church was founded and is guided by Nigerian Bishop David Oyedepo, says the report. It believes in faith-healing for various diseases and has published the testimony of a man whose prayers it claims brought a baby into the world after the mother had been pregnant for five years and seven months, but was unable to deliver the child. Mogoeng is said to deliver “pastoral services” for the church, but does not preach.

Of course, one would not have to look very far to find South Africans who share these views. Many men believe that women “provoke” men into raping them by wearing short skirts or high heels. Other men believe women “provoke” men to assault them by not obeying the orders of their husbands or boyfriends or by flirting with other men. And many South Africans have quite strange and even downright weird religious beliefs while others are athiests or are agnostic.

However, the question is not whether these beliefs are widespread, but whether it is appropriate that the Chief Justice of South Africa should hold such beliefs – given the commitments contained in our Constitution. The beliefs of a nominee for Chief Justice should not be problematic merely because they differ from one’s own. The beliefs should be problematic – as they might very well be in this case – because they cannot be squared with the values enshrined in the Constitution, which values the Chief Justice would symbolically be embodying and would be required to uphold – regardless of his personal beliefs.

If one happens to be a right-wing traditionalist or a patriarch one would be hard pressed not to cheer on this possible appointment of Justice Mogoeng as Chief Justice. (That is why the Freedom Front Plus and Inkatha Freedom Party should find it easy to support this nomination.) If one happens to embrace the progressive values enshrined in the Constitution and if one is honest with oneself and not overtly defensive, one would have to admit that one could not – with a clear conscience – support such an appointment.  (Cosatu and the SACP should therefore really be deeply worried about the nomination of Mogoeng as Chief Justice.)

Or so it seems.

But this is not how the debate has unfolded. Many seemingly progressive and respected individuals, people whose views one would otherwise take seriously and respect, have sprung to the defense of the nominee on the basis that he was black and hence could not be criticised because it was not allowed to criticise a black nominee  as this would “undermine” him or on the basis that he was nominated by the President and hence that it would be insulting to the President to criticise the nomination. Other conservative voices have criticised the appointment – perhaps because they would criticise any decision that our President makes – no matter how wise that decision might be.

Personally I find the reasons for defending the nominee startling, to say the least. Perhaps it says much about the manner in which we have all been infected and tainted by our apartheid past, that so many South Africans are incapable of making a reasoned assessment about the wisdom of the nomination, based on their values and principles and not based on some other kind of misplaced solidarity, prejudice, hatred or defensiveness.

Not all South Africans seem to have been able to escape the effects of the ideology of apartheid, which was based on the absurd and deeply offensive assumption that white South Africans were morally and intellectually superior to black South Africans and therefore deserved to be treated with more respect and concern than blacks. For such individuals – black and white - there is nothing wrong with believing that black South Africans do not deserve the best and that they should be happy to settle for second or third best.

Why else would so many people support the appointment of Mogoeng Mogoeng, whom no person – as far as I am aware – has stated is the best person for the job of Chief Justice? Have they not read the work of Steve Biko? Have they been so deeply traumatised by apartheid ideology and so bewitched by the on-going propagation of white superiority by white racists, that they do not believe that, as fellow South Africans, they deserve the very best Chief Justice – who just happens to be Deputy Chief Justice Dikgang Moseneke?

By saying this I am in no way trying to minimise the harsh and cruel effects of apartheid. On the contrary, I am taking these effects seriously but asking what can be done to free us all of a deeply ingrained but horribly offensive and corrosive apartheid mind-set that bedevils so much of our private actions and what passes as our public discourse. While many (but by no means all) white people who take part in public debates exude a kind of moral arrogance and superiority that is deeply offensive and hurtful to those who are patronised, subjected to discrimination or ignored, many black South Africans (but by no means all) seem to embrace the mediocrity ascribed to them by those very racists whom we should all surely despise and whose beliefs we should work very hard to undermine.

Secondly, I am really perplexed by the argument that we should not be allowed to comment on the quality of the candidate nominated by the President because that would show disrespect to the President. This view seems, to me at least, deeply undemocratic. Section 174(3) of the Constitution states that the President as head of the national executive appoints the Chief Justice, “after consulting the Judicial Service Commission and the leader of parties represented in the National Assembly”

The President must consult and then – after consulting – must appoint the candidate of his choice after having taken into account the views of the JSC and the leaders of opposition parties. In 1999, in President of the Republic of South Africa and Others v SARFU and Others the Constitutional Court considered the appointment of Constitutional Court judges under the Interim Constitution, which required, inter alia, that the President had to appoint such judges “after consultation with the Chief Justice“.  The court held that :

It follows …  that this appointment could only take place in good faith after consulting the Chief Justice and giving serious consideration to his views.”

The heart of the matter – as also confirmed by many other judicial authorities – is that the President must consider other views meaningfully, and give them serious consideration, although it is clear the final decision rests with him. In doing so, the views of the public must necessarily play a role. If, say, the JSC informs the President that his nominee for Chief Justice lacks the gravitas, judicial stature, belief in the values enshrined in the Constitution and/or support of the judiciary as a whole and that such an appointment would be unwise – something the JSC clearly is entitled to do – the President may nevertheless proceed with the appointment.

In the absence of political consequences the President will never take the views of the JSC seriously and in the absence of a democratic debate there can therefore not be meaningful consultation between the JSC and the President. What would force the President to reconsider the appointment he wishes to make is the court of public opinion. But that court – which is conducted in the democratic space itself by all citizens - would only be able to make an informed decision on whether it supports the decision of the President if there is widespread discussion and debate about the merits and the demerits of the President’s preferred candidate.

To suggest, as some have done, that we should not be allowed to discuss – in a considered and responsible manner – whether the nominee is suitable for appointment merely because our “great leader”, our “wise father”, our “benevolent patriarch” has decided that he should be appointed, is profoundly anti-democratic and deeply insulting to the South African voters.

This does not mean that we should gratuitously insult the nominee in the process. I therefore agree with Paul Berkowitz that Zapiro’s cartoon about this matter was a deeply problematic one. As Berkowitz wrote in the Daily Maverick:

This cartoon falls far short of that standard – it may in fact be my least-favourite cartoon of his to date. In contrast to his normal scalpel-sharp analysis, this was a hatchet job. Mogoeng is painted as a sycophant, an obedient servant of the president who is being rewarded for his pliancy.

But surely it is possible to find the middle ground in between the “hatchet job” done by Zapiro on the nominee, and the sycophantic and often completely mindless and anti-democratic arguments put up in defence of Justice Mogoeng’s nomination as Chief Justice? Surely we can talk in a relatively civil and reasoned manner about what characteristics a good judge and a good Chief Justice should possess and then proceed to analyse Judge Mogoeng’s record to determine whether he indeed possesses these characteristics. Surely, in a democracy we all have both a right and a duty to apply our minds to the matter and not to jump to conclusions based on our racial insecurities, our apartheid-imposed sense of shame and self-hatred or our knee-jerk hatred of the President and the ANC?

When we engage in this discussion we are not undermining the nominee. On the contrary, we are treating the nominee with the requisite respect by taking his or her views seriously and by not treating the nominee as a disembodied symbol respresenting a specific race or gender, but as an individual human being with strenghts and weaknesses, with his own ideas and values, with an agency which the apartheid system wanted to deny all black South Africans.

Personally – for reasons provided in this and previous post - I am deeply concerned about the possible nomination of Justice Mogoeng Mogoeng as Chief Justice. In my view there is ample evidence that he is not the best person for the job and that his value system is not in line with that embodied by our Constitution. Unlike the appointment of Chaskalson, Langa and Ngcobo – which I all supported enthusiastically – I cannot support this appointment. Saying so is difficult because it exposes one to attack and accusations of racism, treachery and worse. It also possibly bedevils future interactions with the new Chief Justice and other members of that court. I would have preferred not to have to make this argument, but I would surely have been a coward if I had kept silent. Keeping silent would also have been deeply patronising to the nominee.

But in engaging in this debate it would have been nice to hear reasoned arguments that support the opposite view, arguments which analyse the nominees strengths and attempts to demonstrate why the values displayed by the nominee in his interviews and judgments are admirable and more or less in line with the values embodied in our Constitution.

So far we have been ill-served by those who defend the nomination. Their failure to make reasoned arguments in favour of his nomination impoverishes the debate and disrespects the democratic space which our Constitution envisaged would be used wisely by all citizens with the power to speak so that we can debate the issues and so that those who are required to make these difficult decisions can hopefully make the wisest possible choice.

The “nomination”, if confirmed, will mean that for the next ten years the South African judiciary will be led by a deeply conservative jurist. This could potentially have consequences for the implementation of the transformative vision embodied in the South African Constitution.

I would be surprised if progressive leaders inside the ANC, COSATU and the SACP have been consulted on this decision or, if they have, they supported the decision. There are two main reasons why this decision, while constitutionally permissible, will be viewed by many progressive and pro-transformation champions in our society as one of the most ill-advised decisions our President has made. On the other hand, the decision should be welcomed by many conservatives in both the white and black community who are uncomfortable with the progressive, pro-poor and pro-diversity trajectory of the Constitutional Court.

In any case, the decision says much about the values espoused by our President.

First, it cannot be contested that the nominee is the most conservative judge currently serving on the Constitutional Court. In the case of The Citizen v McBride in a judgment handed down earlier this year by the Constitutional Court, justice Mogoeng dissented from the majority and provided reasons for this dissent which suggest that he has a curious understanding of the way in which freedom of expression operates in a constitutional democracy. In the context of a discussion of the effects of the granting of amnesty by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) to those who had committed gross violations of human rights during the apartheid years, justice Mogoeng stated that it was impermissible to use truthful facts to insult, demonise and run down the dignity of self-confessed human rights violators.

Invoking “traditional values and moral standards” — something that the justices on the ultra-conservative wing of the US Supreme Court might do — the judgment seemed to suggest that it was inappropriate in a constitutional democracy to engage in debate that would affront the dignity of any individual. Even in cases where the impugned comments are based on incontrovertible facts (“X is a murderer hence X is a bad person”), would seemingly offend the honourable judge.

As I wrote at the time, it seems to me this view is at odds with the liberal notion of freedom of expression which our courts have found is at the heart of a flourishing democracy. It seems to relegate freedom of expression to secondary status in our constitutional dispensation and elevates the human dignity of others — even the human dignity of gross human rights abusers who dehumanised, tortured and murdered opponents of apartheid — above the rights of the victims of those human rights abusers.

As a gay man and a vocal champion of respect for difference and diversity, I was also deeply disturbed by the decision of the nominee to distance himself from passages in a judgment in the case of Le Roux and Others v Dey (co-authored by justice Froneman and Cameron), which found that our Constitution affirms the principle that there is nothing wrong with being gay or lesbian and hence that one cannot be defamed if one is called a homosexual.

Our Constitutional Court has often suggested that the Constitution “discountenances anti-gay sentiment”. The Constitutional Court has often found that one’s personal choices about engaging in same-sex sexual activity is protected by our Constitution. At first glance, the refusal of the nominee to endorse the views of the majority on this point suggests that he does not agree with the long line of precedent on sexual orientation discrimination.

Which brings me to the second reason why I believe this nomination is unwise. The problem is that Justice Mogoeng did not provide us with any reasons for his disagreement with the majority judgment in the Dey case. Justice Mogoeng thus managed to avoid scrutiny of his views by the legal community and by the public on this issue. He thus avoided having to face the kind of accountability that judges are normally subjected to in a constitutional democracy. The principles of openness, transparency and accountability which judges of the highest court should be particularly attuned to, were therefore not served by this silence. Justice Mogoeng therefore unwisely failed to embody the culture of justification demanded by our Constitution, placing a question mark over his judicial temperament and his wisdom.

If this lapse was an isolated occurrence, one might well have argued that it was of little significance. However, during the time when Justice Mogoeng served as Judge President he presided over the case of S v Dube, in which another such lapse occurred. In that case the nominee’s wife was the prosecutor in the case but the judge failed to inform the accused of this fact. The Supreme Court of Appeal (SCA) found that the failure of the then Judge President to recuse himself when his wife presented argument for the State in the court below constituted an irregularity which vitiated the appeal proceedings. The SCA therefore set aside the order of the High Court and referred the case back for re-hearing before a differently constituted bench.

The SCA pointed out that the enquiry to determine whether a judge should recuse him or herself “involves a value judgement of the court applying prevailing morality and common sense”. The SCA stated that:

A cornerstone of our legal system is the impartial adjudication of disputes which come before our courts and tribunals. What the law requires is not only that a judicial officer must conduct the trial open-mindedly, impartially and fairly but that such conduct must be manifest to all those who are concerned in the trial and its outcome, especially the accused. … In this country a judicial officer was held to be disqualified in a case where his wife was called as a witness. In S v Sharp the complainant was the magistrate’s wife. He presided in a trial where his wife testified. The court on review held that the magistrate had a direct personal interest in the outcome of the proceedings and that it was difficult to conceive of a more obvious example necessitating recusal. In the case such as the present, where there is a close relationship between the presiding officer and one of the legal representatives, it appears to be undesirable if not improper for such judicial officer to sit in the matter.

It is worrying that the SCA has made a finding which suggests that the nominee for the highest judicial office in our country lacks the common sense and a sense of the prevailing morality in our society required from a competent and wise judge.

Of course, the President has the right to appoint any fit and proper person who is suitably qualified as Chief Justice. All that is required is for the President to consult with the JSC and the leaders of opposition parties before making and appointment. There is no requirement that the President should heed the concerns of those consulted. It must be made clear that I am not suggesting that the nominee is not a fit and proper person that is suitably qualified for the job.

But in a constitutional democracy the decisions of our President are subject to scrutiny and it is both appropriate and sometimes necessary to criticise the wisdom of decisions made by our President. In my humble opinion this is a case where such criticism — based on the kind of reasoned analysis provided above — is fitting and necessary.

It would be interesting to see if progressive voices inside the ANC and in the ANC alliance partners will turn a blind eye to this deeply conservative decision of the President. Will they support this nomination or will they be principled enough to criticise this decision? Will they point out that their progressive agenda will not be served by this decision and that it has the potential to undermine the transformative power of the Constitution?

Only time will tell.

This is why yesterday the Constitutional Court handed down judgment in a case in which it had to consider whether acting judge Ebersohn acted in a biased manner when he considered an urgent application by Stainbank in the motion court to stay the taxation of the bill of costs. The cost related to various court proceedings relating to the question of how owned the “Apartheid Museum” trade mark.

Ebersohn AJ directed Stainbank’s attorney to appear in open court and the following exchange ensued:

COURT: Now why on earth, why on earth should this Court be burdened to be here at five pm today? Why should the matter not be set down for ten o’clock tomorrow morning, like all urgent applications are? If it is, unless it is a question of a murder being, about to happen, then you can deviate from the normal rules regarding set down, but now to set the matter down to five pm, that means that lady must miss her bus. Why was it set down for five oclock?

MR CARLS: MLord, the primary reason behind the set down for five oclock was that there was a concern about the matter being called before the taxation has been set down at 10:30 tomorrow. That is primarily the reason. . . [intervenes].

COURT: Ja, but, now you see, very conveniently the notice of set down of the taxation was deleted from the papers.

MR CARLS: With respect. . . [intervenes].

COURT: It is not in the papers.

MR CARLS: With respect, MLord, not a point of convenience. It might have been an oversight.

COURT: No, . . [intervenes].

MR CARLS: Those papers were literally prepared within . . . [intervenes].

COURT: The Court regards it as convenience, because then the Court would have seen that it was 10:30. Then I could have started becoming agitated.

MR CARLS: As the Court pleases.

COURT: I am not here to fight with you. I believe your counsel will be flying to, I do not know why you get counsel from Durban.

The judge refused to hear the matter that afternoon, and ruled that it should be enrolled for hearing on the following day at 10h00. In light of the fact that the taxation of the bill of costs was set down for the following day at 10h30, the judge directed that taxation should not proceed until the urgent application was disposed of. He also requested the applicant‘s attorney to bring that direction to the attention of the taxing master.

When the proceedings commenced, counsel for the Stainbank applied for the postponement of the application. He argued that the applicant needed to file a replying affidavit to respond to the first respondent‘s papers. During the presentation of argument in respect of the postponement application, the judge – perhaps still upset about the previous evening’s altercation – made several remarks that constituted the basis of the subsequent application for his recusal on the basis that the acting judge was biased. 

While the applicant‘s counsel was presenting argument, the judge interjected to remark that:

I take offence that attorneys behind my back elect to approach the Court and upon my clerk enquiring from your attorney why 17h00, the response was that it suited the counsel who comes from Durban.

Later, when the Stainbank’s counsel informed the judge that the instructions from his attorney were that the court had on the previous day made an order that taxation would not proceed, the judge made this remark:

Your attorney is lying. . . . He is lying about what you now said. I said to him I refuse to enrol the matter. I said to my clerk, after he left my chambers, I said to my clerk he must advise the taxing master that she is not to proceed with the taxation until this application has been heard.

Stainbank’s counsel – perhaps because he is a less emotional sort of chap than a certain Cape Town advocate who recently said rather nasty things about Judge Bozalek’s mother – then apologised for the error. The application for a postponement was refused and the application to stay the taxation proceeded.

After further discussion the judge invited the parties to present argument after the lunch adjournment on whether the court should order costs from the applicant‘s attorney‘s own pocket de bonis propriis. Stainbank’s counsel informed the court that the parties required to see him in chambers to which the judge remarked, “[d]id I get misquoted again?” The High Court adjourned once more. When it resumed, the applicant applied for the recusal of the judge on the basis of either actual bias of a reasonable apprehension of bias, a decision that usually is not (and should not) lightly be taken.

Counsel for Stainbank contended that because the judge had called his attorney a “liar” in court and had also invited submissions on costs from the attorney‘s own pocket in circumstances where costs had not been sought by the first respondent, he would not be able to impartially adjudicate the matter. The judge gave a judgment from the bench in which he dismissed the application for recusal:

The fact that the attorney gave instructions to the applicant‘s counsel . . . which instructions were false . . . caused the Court to remark that then he was lying. The counsel . . . then apologised and that was the end of that matter. Every reasonable person in court then realised that it was an unfortunate misunderstanding between counsel and his instructing attorney.

If the attorney is aggrieved, he only has himself to blame. This Court has not judged the matter yet and there is no possibility of bias on the part of this Court against the applicant and/or his attorney. The application for recusal is refused.

The High Court refused to stay the taxation and made a punitive order for costs reasoning as follows:

Regarding costs [the applicants attorney] did not comply with the rules of the Division regarding the bringing of an urgent application, his instructions to counsel regarding the recusal application was an open attempt to bully the judge and bordered on contempt of court. He, furthermore, delayed in bringing the urgent application until such time when he knew that there would not be sufficient time for the first respondent to file answering papers. He also, unilaterally and without consulting with the judges clerk, and seeking the judges permission thereto, unilaterally enrolled the matter for 17h00 which is not a normal time inconveniencing the court, its staff and the first respondent and their legal team. The attorney will therefore be mulcted with costs in the event of his client not paying the taxed costs of the first respondent.

The Constitutional Court, in a unanimous judgment written by justice Khampepe, applied the well developed test namely whether a reasonable, objective and informed person would on the correct facts reasonably apprehend that a judge has not or will not bring an impartial mind to the adjudication of the dispute, that is, a mind open to persuasion by the evidence and the submissions of counsel. The Court once again emphasised that there is a presumption in favour of the impartiality of the court which will not easily be dislodged. It also recalled the dicta in its Wouter Basson recusal judgment where it held that in considering whether the remarks give rise to a reasonable apprehension of bias, a judge should not be held to an ideal standard that would be difficult to attain.

In the end the Constitutional Court rejected the appeal founded on allegations of bias – but it was a close run affair. Given the fact that Stainbank’s attorney “was not without blemish” the court had some hard words for the acting judge. Even allowing for the pressures of a busy urgent court like the North Gauteng High Court, the absurdity of the set down, and the inept manner in which Stainbank’s attorney prepared the application (given his 22 years” experience), the judge‘s conduct during the proceedings was found to be “unacceptable”. As the Constitutional Court stated:

The remark made by the judge that the applicant‘s attorney was lying is most unfortunate. It displays a lack of courtesy that is required from a judge in the execution of his judicial duties, no matter how trying the circumstances are. Bearing in mind that there is no suggestion that the applicant himself was responsible for this, it is understandable that he may have formed a subjective impression that the judge was biased against him. In the end, although this case comes close to satisfying the reasonable apprehension of bias test, considering all the factors, it falls short of dislodging the presumption of impartiality. In the circumstances, the appeal founded on bias cannot succeed.

Reading this judgment one becomes aware of the pressures under which both judges and lawyers operate in our courts – especially in busy divisions such as the South Gauteng High Court. Hopefully the judgment will serve as a warning to judges not to lose their cool – even in extreme circumstances – as this might well give rise to an apprehension of bias on their part.

A certain Mrs Vermaak had phoned a Mr van der Merwe and asked to speak to his wife to which she received the reply:  ”Het jy nie gehoor dat sy bly by daardie donnerse lesbian nie?” (Haven’t you heard that she is staying with that bloody lesbian?) Mrs Vermaak did not know what a lesbian was and later asked her husband what was meant by these words. Her husband then told her. The question was whether her original ignorance about the meaning of the word “lesbian” meant that no defamatory statement had been communicated.

We have come a long way since then. In the recent case of Le Roux v Dey, in a judgment authored by Justice Cameron and Froneman, the Constitutional Court found that it could not be considered defamatory to call someone gay or lesbian, and reasoned as follows:

The Constitution does not condone individual prejudice against people who are different in terms of race, sex, sexual orientation, conscience, belief, culture, language or birth. These are unfair grounds for differentiation and the equality provision of the Bill of Rights protects against discrimination based on them. It therefore cannot be actionable simply to call or to depict someone as gay even though he chooses not to be gay and dislikes being depicted as gay — and even though stigma may still surround being gay. To hold actionable an imputation based on a protected ground of non-discrimination would open a back-door to the enforcement by the law of categories of differentiation that the Constitution has ruled irrelevant.

As I pointed out at the time, Justice Mogoeng Mogoeng indicated (without giving reasons) that he disagreed with this view. As Justice Mogoeng had not given any reasons for his disagreement, it was unclear whether his refusal to sign on to this aspect of the judgment was based on the kind of “individual prejudice” mentioned by Froneman and Cameron.

An interesting aspect of the judgment in the case of The Citizen v McBride is that this time justice Mogoeng not only dissented but also wrote a separate dissenting opinion. Unlike the other judges, he found that the rather acrimonious and distasteful campaign by The Citizen against Mr McBride’s appointment as police chief of Ekurhuleni was “part of a well-orchestrated character assassination campaign” waged by The Citizen against Mr McBride and could therefore not be viewed as fair comment.

As I read the judgment, it is premised on the assumption that we have a constitutional duty not to vilify others and that our freedom of expression must be exercised “responsibly” to protect the human dignity of others — even of those found guilty of gross human rights violations. It’s a bit like the LeadSA campaign about a Bill of Responsibilities in that it assumes that our right to freedom of expression must always be exercised politely and carefully. In this world, robust, bitter and acrimonious exchanges and the hurling of clever political insults and witty but cutting asides are not allowed

Truth-telling during the amnesty process was thus not intended to lay the foundation for the endless vilification of South Africans who grossly violated human rights, either in the furtherance of the crime of apartheid or the struggle for freedom from apartheid, in the name of freedom of expression. Nor was the truth, uncovered during the amnesty hearings or even during the trials of those who committed gross human rights violations, intended to be used to undermine the pursuit of national unity and reconciliation What is impermissible is the use of truth revealed to insult, demonise and run down the dignity of self-confessed human rights violators.

Justice Mogoeng contends that our Constitution places a responsibility on us to engage in less heated and bitter public criticism of others — not because it is our ethical or moral responsibility, but because the law requires us to do so. ANC members who wish to criticise Lady DA-DA (as some clever hack called the dancing Helen Zille) or columnists who wish to ridicule the President for fathering children out of wedlock should therefore not be allowed to express their criticism in bitter, sarcastic or vitriolic terms.

At the heart of his view is a very unique and particular view of our shared history and culture. Justice Mogoeng seems to want to hark back to a (possibly imagined and fictional) time when so called traditional values and moral standards still prevailed. (Whether the traditional values and moral standards referred to include respect for the human dignity of gay men and lesbians is not clear.)

We live in an African country which is rapidly being denuded of the values and moral standards which once characterised and defined the very nature of who a substantial majority of its citizens were and what they stood for. Botho or ubuntu is the embodiment of a set of values and moral principles which informed the peaceful co-existence of the African people in this country who espoused ubuntu based on, among other things, mutual respect.Language was used in moderation and foul language was frowned upon by the overwhelming majority. A forgiving and generous spirit, the readiness to embrace and apply restorative justice, as well as a courteous interaction with others, were instilled even in the young ones in the ordinary course of daily discourse. The unforgiving, the arrogant and the unduly abusive were described by the Batswana, and presumably other African communities, as those who are bereft ofbotho.

Ubuntu gives expression to, among others, a biblical injunction that one should do unto others as he or she would have them do unto him or her. The law, order, generosity, peace and common decency that previously characterised many communities in South Africa were attributed to an unwavering commitment to the philosophy of ubuntu. No wonder the drafters of our interim Constitution deemed it meet to cite ubuntu as one of the ingredients essential to the healing of our country. Sadly, a new culture has taken root and continues to cancerously eat at botho.

It seems to me this view is rather idealistic. Anyone familiar with our current political discourse would know that hardly anyone engaged in politics in South Africa adheres to this biblical view in which one should always do unto others as one would like them do unto oneself. According to this view half the statements made by Julius Malema about Helen Zille and members of the DA, say, (or about white people in general) would be viewed as unprotected and hence unlawful defamatory statements. Much criticism of President Jacob Zuma (for example, criticism contained in cartoons depicting our President with a showerhead on his head) would also seemingly become unlawful if this view is adhered to.

The view is also at odds with the liberal notion of freedom of expression which our courts have found is at the heart of a flourishing democracy. It seems to relegate freedom of expression to secondary status in our constitutional dispensation and elevates the human dignity of others — even the human dignity of gross human rights abusers who dehumanised, tortured and murdered opponents of apartheid — above the rights of the victims of those human rights abusers.

As a matter of moral reasoning, one may well agree with Justice Mogoeng that we should all try and be better people and should all try not to be so beastly to one another merely because we disagree with one another.  (Class, as punishment write out one hundred times: “I will not make disparaging remarks about the looks of a certain DA councillor.”)

But as a matter of constitutional law, the principle is deeply flawed. It may well be used by politicians to escape valid and trenchant criticism. Unless criticism is couched in sanctimonious platitudes and caveats, politicians may well be able to sue for defamation and this will invariably have a serious chilling effect on the free expression of views and ideas by ordinary citizens.

Julius Malema is obviously an idiot when he calls Helen Zille a dancing monkey, but should our law really hold him liable for defamation for doing so? And, come to think of it, should I be held liable for defamation for calling Malema an idiot? I think not.

Do we really want to live in a world where Malema “expresses disquiet at the quality of Helen Zille’s less than graceful dancing” and I express the opinion that Julius Malema “might be faced by unfortunate etiquette challenges”? Once again, I think not.

Of course, when lawyers discuss these questions one would hope that they would do so with some understanding of the unique nature of the South African Bill of Rights and that their arguments would be based on an honest and fair assessment of the judgment. American Law Professor Ziad Motala took a stab at this in yesterday’s Sunday Times, but alas, I fear his slavish pro-executive views and his rigid ideological commitments tripped him up and led him to misconstrue aspects of the judgment and to present arguments more appropriate for the United States context (with its liberal Bill of Rights) than the South African context (with its post-liberal Bill of Rights).

The same mistake has often been made by both reactionaries and authoritarian critics of our Constitutional Court.

Prof Motala argues that the majority in the Glenister case failed to consider either the text of the Constitution or the principle of the separation of powers in its judgment. “The constitution does not mandate to parliament where to locate the anti-corruption unit,” writes Motala. This is a curious statement which does not seem to conform to the facts as the majority has not ordered the parliament to locate the anti-corruption unit anywhere. It has – appropriately - left this question open to parliament to decide.

Motala also expresses concern at the manner in which the majority dealt with the various international treaties which bind South Africa and which require the SA government to create a sufficiently independent corruption fighting unit. Motala argues that:

the majority ignored all precedent and said international agreements, even though not made self-executing, create an obligation to create an independent anti-corruption entity. What makes the majority approach particularly egregious is there is no single international law text which supports their conclusion on the relationship between the anti-corruption unit and the executive. More importantly, there is not a single precedent from any country in the world which the majority could cite to support their interpretation that international law required an anti-corruption unit in terms of the framework they posited.

Motala seems not to have followed the main argument of the majority. It did not find that the duty to create an independent anti-corruption unit flows directly from South Africa’s international law obligations. Instead the majority argued (as it has done in countless previous cases) that section 7(2) of the South African Constitution places a positive obligation on the state to protect, promote and fulfil the various rights in the Bill of Rights. (Of course, the US Constitution does not contain an equivalent provision to that of section 7(2), so one might forgive the learned Professor for his mistake.)

The majority then found that corruption infringes on the rights to achieve equality, human dignity, freedom and security of the person, administrative justice and socio-economic rights. In order to comply with its positive obligation to protect, promote and fulfil these rights, the state therefore had a duty to create a sufficiently independent anti-corruption entity as only such a body would be able to fight corruption effectively. 

International treaties were only used by the majority in order to help the court to interpret the text of the Constitution and to establish the scope and content of the obligation to protect, promote and fulfil this obligation to fight corruption to protect the various rights mentioned above. The majority thus turned to international law as it has done in countless other cases – including the famous Grootboom case – to assist it with its interpretation of section 7(2), read with section 9, 10, 1226,27 and 33 of the Constitution.

When the Grootboom case was decided, there was also not a single precedent from another country referred to by the Court because the text of our Constitution is rather unique. That did not deligitimise the Grootboom judgment – except, of course, in the eyes of the authoritarian left and the liberal right critics of the Court. At the time, critics of the court also claimed that the Court had involved itself in policy making and that it was therefore infringing on the separation of powers doctrine. Manto Tshabala-Msimang’s lawyers tried to put forward this view in the TAC case but this argument was rejected by a unanimous court.

Of course the argument that the Court should not involve itself in “policy matters” is based on a peculiarly liberal notion of separation of powers and on the traditional liberal assumption – now widely mocked by progressive lawyers – that at least in some cases one can draw a bright-line boundary between law on the one hand and policy on the other. But whenever a court is empowered to declare invalid acts of the executive and parliament and where a court can determine whether the other branches of government have fulfilled its positive obligations to protect, promote and fulfil the rights in the Bill of Rights, policy issues will potentially be implicated. It is not the task of the court to decide what policy the other branches of government should adopt, but it is the task of the court to say when policy choices made by other branches do not conform to the requirements set out in the Constitution (as interpreted by judges, of course). 

This is exactly what the majority did here. One might disagree with its reasoning or – for ideological reasons – with the outcome of the majority decision, but to do so on the basis that the court involved itself in policy choices, is to misconstrue the nature of the South African constitutional project. Arguing that the text of the South African Constitution ”is clear on the separation of powers” is also perplexing as the phrase “separation of powers” does not appear in the text of the Constitution and the Constitutional Court has argued that it will – over time – develop its own version of the doctrine. The doctrine can therefore not be clear.

Prof Motala curiously claims an absolute certainty about the contours of our separation of powers doctrine, where there is none. He claims that the text of the Constitution is absolutely clear about this doctrine, when it is not. He claims the interpetation of the text by the majority creates “fringe meanings”, which is true, I guess, if one views it from a very particular ideological perspective, but untrue if one happens to support the creation of a truly independent corruption figting unit to protect, promote and fulfill the rights in the Bill of Rights.

The Constitution must be interpreted by the judges and different judges may well interpret different obligations differently, depending on their assessment of the text of the relevant constitutional provision, the socio-political context and of the purpose and structure of the constitutional text. One may well disagree with the specific interpretation of the text of the Constitution made by a judge (because there are almost always more than one credible interpretation of the often open ended provisions of a constitution). But to argue that the majority opinion was ideological (while the minority opinion seemingly was not) and that the majority opinion showed a great distrust for democracy and disdain for political accountability (while the minority did not), is no more than a political statement based on a particular ideological commitment to the relatively unchecked exercise of executive power.

We all have our ideological commitments, of course. Those of us who actually live in South Africa and experience the consequences of corruption and its corrosive effect on service delivery to ourselves and to others, might therefore be slightly more supportive of the majority decision than others who might have decided to leave South Africa to make a better living elsewhere, untroubled by the daily challenges of our society. We will be naive if we did not admit that ideology will often play a role in how we read and critique judgments of the Constitutional Court. I would argue that in this case the ideological choices are rather stark. Some of us might feel uncomfortable to be seen to stand on the side of the often venal political elites – others might not.

Quite frankly the separation of powers argument is a red herring. As Chief Justice Sandile Ngcobo stated at a public lecture last year, while we are still developing this doctrine we should conceptualise our separation of powers doctrine in terms of a dialogue between the legislature and the executive on the one hand and the judiciary on the other. Because the text and structure of our Constitution requires the Constitutional Court to determine whether certain policy choices of the legislature or the executive comply with the Constitution (as it has done in other cases like the Rail Commuters case, the Treatment Action Campaign case, the Khosa case, the Nicro case, and many other cases) one cannot argue in any credible way that when our Court declares invalid legislation that contains policy choices of parliament they overstep the boundaries of the separation of powers doctrine.

The Court must decide what obligations the Constitution impose (as it did here, providing cogent and reasoned arguments which one might or might not agree with, but which cannot be said to be absurd or illogical) and must then leave it to the other branches of government to comply with these obligations. This is exactly what the majority did in this case. It gave parliament 18 months to fix the problem. When it decides how to fix it, parliament will  consider different policy options and one will be chosen. Hopefully it will be a policy option that complies with the positive obligations imposed by the Constitution (as interpreted by the majority of Constitutional Court judges). If it does, that will be the end of the matter. If it does not, the dialogue may continue.  

Lastly, the complaint by Prof Motala that the majority rested their conclusions on “public perceptions”, seems revealing as it completely misconstrues what the Court had argued. The court – as it has done in several other cases – argued that the test for independence requires one to ask whether a reasonable person would believe that the institution under review is independent. This, however, is not how Motala presented the argument:

A judge should not be looking at opinion polls nor, for that matter, the ballot box in saying what the constitution represents. If we looked at the passions of the majority, the death penalty would have been introduced a long time ago and gay rights would have gone out the window.

This passage unfortunately does not engage in an honest and fair manner with the majority decision. Either Motala did not understand what the court meant or he has deliberately misconstrued the arguments advanced by the majority. It never said the views of the public had to determine what the Constitution meant. All it said was that one needs to ask whether – from the reasonable standpoint of the public – an independent unit has been created. This is the known test in our jurisprudence for determining independence. The fact that Motala does not know this or that he chooses to ignore it, rather discredits his whole piece of hackery.

To conclude, Prof Motala’s piece represents a lost opportunity to engage seriously and honestly with the majority decision. One may well argue that the minority decision – despite reaching an unpalatable outcome which seems to endorse potential political interference in corruption investigations – was legally the more cogent or politically more advisable. One may also argue that it is inappropriate to establish a truly independent corruption fighting unit in South Africa as this might lead to the prosecution and incarceration of one’s friends or of politicians of a party one happens to support. But then one needs to do so honestly and in a way that does not misconstrues the reasoning of the Court.