20/07/2026
WHEN THE JUDICIARY STOPS BELONGING TO THE PEOPLE
Democracy rarely dies with the sound of gunfire anymore. More often, it fades quietly behind courtroom doors.
In the past, dictators seized power through military coups, suspended constitutions, and ruled by decree. Today’s authoritarians have learned a different lesson. They have discovered that it is far more effective to keep the courts open, judges in their robes, and constitutions on the shelf—while slowly ensuring that the justice system serves those in power instead of the people.
A captured judiciary is one of the greatest threats to freedom because it destroys the one institution citizens turn to when every other institution has failed.
Courts are not meant to protect presidents, ruling parties, generals, or the wealthy. They exist to protect ordinary people from the abuse of power. They are the place where a poor farmer should be equal to a minister, where a journalist should have the same rights as a president, and where the law should matter more than political connections.
Once that principle disappears, justice becomes a privilege rather than a right.
The tragedy is that judicial capture rarely happens overnight. It is not a single event but a gradual process. One loyal judge is appointed. One independent judge is pushed into early retirement. A court budget is quietly reduced. A magistrate who rules against the government is transferred to a remote district. A respected judge is publicly attacked for being “anti-government.” None of these actions, taken alone, appears catastrophic. Yet together they reshape an institution that was meant to be independent into one that fears those in power.
Africa has witnessed these patterns before.
Zimbabwe offers one of the clearest examples. During Robert Mugabe’s rule, several judges who issued decisions against government policies faced intense political pressure. Chief Justice Anthony Gubbay, widely respected for defending constitutional principles, resigned in 2001 after sustained attacks and intimidation. His departure sent a message that judicial independence carried personal consequences. Over time, many observers argued that the courts became increasingly reluctant to challenge executive authority, particularly in politically sensitive cases involving elections, land reform, and opposition figures.
Kenya presents a different story—one that shows both the dangers of political influence and the resilience of independent institutions.
For many years, Kenya’s judiciary struggled with accusations of political interference. Yet in 2017, the Supreme Court surprised the continent by annulling the presidential election after finding serious irregularities in the electoral process. It was the first time in African history that a sitting president’s election had been overturned by a country’s highest court. The decision demonstrated what an independent judiciary can look like. The judges faced enormous political criticism, yet they affirmed a simple principle: no election is above the law.
Unfortunately, that independence also came at a cost. Following the ruling, some judges faced public attacks, security concerns, and intense political pressure. Their experience reminded Africans that judicial courage often carries a personal price.
In South Africa, the Constitutional Court has repeatedly demonstrated why judicial independence matters. In 2016, the court ruled that President Jacob Zuma had failed to uphold the Constitution over the misuse of public funds spent on upgrades to his private Nkandla residence. The judgment reinforced the idea that even the head of state is accountable under the Constitution. It became one of the strongest examples on the continent of courts acting as guardians of democracy rather than servants of political power.
Uganda’s experience raises difficult questions about the relationship between law and politics. Opposition politicians, journalists, lawyers, and civil society organisations have frequently challenged government actions in court. At times, the judiciary has delivered judgments that reinforced constitutional protections. At other times, critics have argued that courts have shown excessive deference to executive power, particularly in politically charged cases involving elections, public order, military courts, and the detention of opposition figures. These debates continue to shape public confidence in the justice system.
Beyond Africa, Turkey dismissed thousands of judges after the failed coup attempt in 2016. While Hungary altered judicial structures to increase executive influence over appointments. Poland’s judicial reforms triggered prolonged disputes with European institutions over judicial independence. Although each country has its own history and legal system, the methods used to increase political influence over the courts share striking similarities.
Most Authoritarian leaders understand something many citizens overlook. You do not have to abolish the courts to weaken democracy. You only have to ensure that judges begin asking themselves one question before every important ruling:
“What will happen to me if I decide against the government?” The moment fear enters the courtroom, justice quietly leaves.
This is why the independence of judges matters so profoundly. A judge who worries about losing a promotion, facing disciplinary action, being publicly vilified, or endangering their family cannot decide cases with complete freedom. Justice requires courage, but courage also requires institutions that protect those who speak truth to power.
Once the judiciary is captured, recovering it is extraordinarily difficult. Public trust takes decades to rebuild. Investors lose confidence in legal certainty. Citizens stop believing that the law will protect them. Political disputes increasingly move from courtrooms to the streets because people no longer believe that justice can be found through legal institutions.
A nation without an independent judiciary is like a football match where one team appoints the referee, writes the rules, and decides the final score before kickoff. The game may continue, spectators may fill the stadium, and the whistle may still blow—but everyone already knows how it will end. That is why defending judicial independence is not about protecting judges. It is about protecting every citizen.
Every person will one day depend on a fair court—whether in a land dispute, a business disagreement, a criminal case, an election petition, or a challenge against an abuse of state power. When that day comes, what matters is not who governs the country. What matters is whether the judge is free to decide according to the law, without fear or favour.
The true strength of a nation is not measured by the power of its president or the size of its army. It is measured by whether its poorest citizen can walk into a courtroom knowing that justice cannot be bought, intimidated, or commanded.
When the courts belong to the people, democracy has a future. When they belong to those in power, democracy survives only in name.
