Defending the right to counsel
Transcription
Defending the right to counsel
OPINION & ANALYSIS 12 THURSDAY JULY 10 2014 The Star Future of top Swazi judge hangs in balance THURSDAY JULY 10 2014 Established 1887 47 Sauer Street, Johannesburg No place for vain leaders NE OF the shortest political careers in South African history has ended in ignominy, with Mamphela Ramphele stepping down from formal politics as the leader of the party she founded – almost two months to the day South Africa’s voters showed exactly what they felt about her ambitions. Ramphele formed AgangSA (Let’s Build South Africa) on the back of a wave of media hype, hot air and broad promises, but very little in terms of either policy or identity beyond her own, admittedly oversized, personality. There’s no doubt that she will always enjoy a very real place in the history for the liberation of South Africa from apartheid. There’s no doubt either that she brought with her a very impressive post-apartheid CV. Politics, though, is an unforgiving mistress – and no place for vanity, without a real support base and true leadership. Ramphele could not keep her party together, many joined her only to have their beliefs dashed and their careers rudely interrupted, some perhaps fatally. As for the people she thought would flock to her banner, rich and poor, tired with the status quo of the ruling ANC and opposition DA, they showed her exactly what they thought on May 7. Their decision could well have been spurred by her disastrous flirtation with the DA, which managed the rare double of deeply offending both parties and showing potential voters a side to her personality that her party officials had long began to suspect was the true face of the new selfproclaimed “mother of the nation”. Now she has chosen to step down to leave party politics and “return to working alongside my fellow citizens in civil society to pursue the dream of transforming ours into a more just and prosperous society”. Perhaps the more prosaic reason is that her tiny little party kicked her out for, in the words of Agang deputy leader Andries Tlouamma, treating it like a personal ATM machine. Ironically, in the end, she appears to have been a victim of the very democracy she appeared to so publicly espouse. Our neighbour finds certain situations normal, but for the rest of the world it is unacceptable O CARMEL RICKARD HERE’S something strangely familiar about the way the Law Society of Swaziland operates. Faced with situations that most of the rest of the world regards as completely unacceptable, the society uses similar strategies we saw in South Africa during certain periods of apartheid. In a nutshell, the strategy was to go to court with cases illustrating injustices resulting from the prevailing system – in this case the absolute monarchy of King Mswati III. With free speech curbed, the courts become an arena in which to speak. The latest of these cases is a telling challenge to the appointment of a high court judge. He is Mpendulo Simelane, appointed to the high court on February 14. No doubt the judge is somebody’s Valentine, but he wasn’t the law society’s. Judge Simelane is presiding over one of Swaziland’s most controversial cases and perhaps he’s already come to regard his appointment as something of a poisoned chalice. The case concerns two popular and internationally respected figures, journalist Bheki Makhubu, editor of Nation magazine, and human rights lawyer Thulani Maseko, charged with contempt of court. T After legal argument last week, they are now waiting for Judge Simelane’s verdict. Denied bail, they have been in prison for well over 100 days. The alleged contempt concerns comment on the actions of, among others, the Swazi chief justice, Michael Ramodibedi – a man at least as controversial as the trial. Whether the decision to challenge the Simelane appointment would have happened anyway or whether it is fundamentally a reaction to the trial, isn’t clear, though a member of the society said this week that establishing the validity of the appointment “is a serious matter of principle”. Briefly, the society says that the appointment was invalid because the judge didn’t meet the minimal requirements and that the appointment process was unconstitutional. Before you can be appointed a judge in Swaziland you have to have had a minimum of 10 years in legal practice. Simelane was admitted as a lawyer in February 2004. He practised as a prosecutor until 2009 after which he was appointed registrar in the high court and he continued in this position until his elevation to the judiciary. The law society says that the work of a high court More cartoons online at www.iol.co.za/cartoon Defending the right to counsel That the needy should be represented in court is a vital part of our and any democracy D ROBYN LESLIE Telephone 011-633-9111 Box 1014, Johannesburg 2000 Kevin Ritchie Editorial Executives Sol Makgabutlane Nelandri Narianan Janet Smith Mojalefa Mashego News Editor [email protected] Opinion/Letters Editor [email protected] Oped Editor [email protected] Verve Editor [email protected] Zenaide Jones Andrew Walker Mapaseka Mogotsi Mojalefa Mashego Tel: 011-633-2410 Sol Makgabutlane Tel: 011-633-2336 Janet Smith Tel: 011-633-2379 Zenaide Jones Tel: 011-633-2587 GEOFF HUGHES W Good detective work Acting Editor WATCHWORD HAT is a celebrity? About 50 years ago, an American academic defined the unfamiliar term with caustic irony as “a person who is known for his well-knownness”. He perceived celebrity as “a new kind of eminence” steadily overshadowing previous notions of heroism, sainthood and martyrdom. Nowadays the definition would, of course, include the feminine and the varieties of LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender). Today, the growth of the celebrity market is achieved through a fairly obvious alliance between the media and the entertainment industry, thus the movements of film stars and singers are often contrived “pseudo-events”, but still oust the tragedies of real people from the headlines. But there are interesting anomalies such as Pope Francis becoming a celebrity, as has Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu, whereas the archbishop of Canterbury has not. Furthermore, the special status accorded celebrities has often ignored morality and has been carried to extremes. In the 1930s, even the gangster Al Capone became a celebrity. The shocking disclosures in the UK of Jimmy Saville and Rolf Harris as sexual predators and paedophiles seem to indicate that many people in authority turned a blind eye to their criminal activities for decades. ● Geoff Hughes is professor emeritus, Wits University J ONALD Sebolai is behind bars and, if he is as guilty as everyone thinks he is, he won’t be free for quite some time to come. He had been on the run for a week after allegedly stabbing his girlfriend, Rachel “Dolly” Tshabalala, to death when police officers arrested him on Tuesday. Nkele Marawa, Dolly’s mom, is not happy about the arrest. Nothing will bring her daughter back. She’s right. The arrest, though, shows that there is no substitute for good, old-fashioned police work. Justice must be done, the good news is that the first step in that direction has just been taken. the king. As such, he adds, the challenge is unconstitutional and thus “legally incompetent”. He also claims that the work of a high court registrar must be regarded as the work of a legal practitioner. This is so because a registrar “performs several quasi-judicial functions” including taxing bills of costs, which “require a registrar to interpret and apply all the different and diverse spheres of the law”. He says that it is not mandatory for vacancies to be advertised and denies that there is any requirement for “open and transparent interview”. The dispute is due for hearing on August 1, but so volatile is the Swazi situation that who knows whether the chief justice will still be in office then. He recently resigned as president of the appeal court in Lesotho, where he had been holding office at the same time, after it became clear that he faced impeachment inquiries. Now he faces criminal charges related to alleged insurance fraud in Lesotho. Is his star still ascendant in Swaziland? Even seers among the kingdom’s legal community are hedging their bets. www.tradingplaces2night.co.za The claim to fame of celebrity Criminal intent OBURG residents are regularly the victims of power outages, not because utility Eskom can’t handle the demand but because the infrastructure keeps getting stolen, to be sold to unscrupulous scrap metal dealers. The scourge of metal theft is such that several people died in the lee of Orlando Towers last month, when the disused power station building collapsed on top of them as they tried to remove the girders that actually held up what remained of the building. That was unprecedented, but nothing compared to yesterday’s report, which we follow up in today’s edition with the news that an entire section of rail has been stolen – five whole kilometres in a week. The line runs from the main line to the Union Carriage and Wagon depot which repairs Metrorail carriages, potentially affecting the efficiency of the Passenger Rail Agency of South Africa, although this was vehemently denied. Its operations, though, were affected yesterday across Ekurhuleni due to cable theft, among others. The question that has to be asked is where does this all end? How brazen must our metal thieves become before the government declares a crisis? This is not a victimless crime because it affects everyone of us. It’s not faceless either. The police have to act. registrar is very different from that of a legal practitioner. It involves administration of the day-today functioning of the high court and a registrar does not appear in court in that capacity nor does a registrar carry out any of the functions of a legal practitioner. In fact, claims the law society, a registrar is effectively a public servant employed by the government. On the question of the appointment process, the society says that all appointments to judicial office should be carried out in a “competitive, transparent and open manner”. But in this case, no vacancy had been declared or advertised, as was required by regulation. There had been no public interviews either. One of the most interesting features of the case is likely to be the first issue taken up by Judge Simelane in response to the application for his appointment to be set aside. He says he was appointed by the king in terms of royal powers granted by the constitution that immunise the king from any legal action whatsoever. It is clear, says the judge, that the application effectively challenges an action of Robyn Leslie is a researcher with the Wits Justice Project, which investigates miscarriages of justice, including cases of wrongfully convicted and awaiting-trial prisoners. N A WARM summer’s morning in June 1961, a penniless odd-jobber by the name of Gideon Clarence was discovered in a seedy bar in Panama City, a town in the state of Florida, the US. When the police tracked him down, he was described as drinking on the morning shift, his trousers “hanging low, weighted by exactly $25.28 in coins”. Clarence, with a history of theft, drifting and destitution, was arrested under suspicion of breaking and entering a pool hall the evening before, supposedly walking off with a few bottles of liquor and the change from the juke-box machine. The evidence? A few convenient witnesses, his history of criminal activity – and, of course, the change sagging in his trouser pocket, which he claimed was the lucky outcome of a poker game. During his trial, Clarence strongly protested his innocence and demanded the state provide him with legal representation as he had no way of paying for a lawyer. This request was denied, the provision of legal assistance for the destitute being then reserved for defendants in cases where they might be liable for the death penalty. Within a month of his arrest, he received a guilty verdict and the maximum sentence of five years in prison, which is the first part of Clarence’s remarkable story. The fate of this indigent man would change the course of American legal history, and his case brings the right to a fair trial starkly into relief. What does this right – guaranteed by South Africa’s constitution – actually mean? As armchair spectators, the public sees two sides: the defence lawyer attempting to convince of a client’s innocence and the prosecution advocating for as many nails to be hammered into the accused’s coffin as the court will allow. A judge sits, impassive and attentive, absorbing all arguments and weighing the balance of each. But the truth is far more interesting. The premise underpinning rule of law – the set of guidelines and codes that govern our country and thus our way of life – is that correct procedure must be followed. Guilt or innocence is not for either defence or prosecution to decide. If we look at criminal justice through this lens, instead of a predatory defence lawyer “protecting” a vicious criminal, we can see criminal defence as a guardian of due process. For example, imagine a criminal defence lawyer demanding, during a trial for narcotics dealing, a demonstrable link between O A FIRM CONVICTION: Judge Dunstan Mlambo has called the state provision of lawyers for the poor a human right. PICTURE: GABRIEL ELLISON-SCOWCROFT drugs produced as evidence and the person accused of dealing. If the prosecution cannot produce such a link, then the case falls apart. Due procedure has not been followed as the custody of the important evidence chain has not been well managed. In a scenario like this, the rule of law premise implies contestation by the defence will improve systems in the future. The custody of evidence for the next drugs arrest will hopefully be watertight, resulting in accurate and compelling evidence being produced at the trial. Thus, criminal defence processes ultimately improve the functioning of the justice machine as a whole. In the case of the indigent or destitute, accessing the correct and fair criminal procedure is impossible without sponsored legal representation. In his speech, given last week at the opening of the International Conference on Access to Legal Aid in Criminal Justice Systems, Judge President of Gauteng (and chairman of Legal Aid South Africa) Dunstan Mlambo called access to legal aid a “foundational human right” – a right that has been internationalised through the UN Principles and Guidelines on Access to Legal Aid in Criminal Justice Systems and domesticated in our constitution. But in order to guarantee this right and due process, both defence and prosecution need to know what they’re doing. This was Clarence’s argument, and in 1962, after obtaining a pencil and some prison-letter-headed stationery, he wrote a five-page plea to the Supreme Court (America’s highest), stating that a fair trial was impossible without a lawyer. As he had represented himself at this trial, he argued that coming up against an experienced prosecutor had been farcical. In his handwritten appeal, he urged the Supreme Court to reconsider his case and assign him legal representation. In a twist of fate almost as unbelievable as the eventual outcome, the Supreme Court not only received this mailed missive, they singled it out of many other petitions as one to act on. Granting his request, the ensuing retrial – where Clarence was represented by a court-appointed lawyer – resulted in his acquittal on all charges. He had spent two years in prison for a crime he did not commit, but his judgment had the immense implication that all indigent accused in America should be provided with a lawyer if they couldn’t afford to hire one. In South Africa, the provision of free legal assistance for those who need it is rightly regarded as one of our proudest public services. Legal Aid South Africa han- dles the bulk of South Africa’s criminal cases, taking on thousands of clients who meet their means test – a test you don’t have to undergo if you are receiving social grants of any description. This translated into about 380 000 criminal cases handled by this state-funded body in the last year, despite being under financial constraints, as their budget assigned from Parliament was not robust last year: Legal Aid South Africa’s operations were funded by R1.25 billion, whereas the National Prosecuting Authority’s 2012/2013 Annual Report pegs its spend at R2.83bn. As the institution that handles so much of our criminal case work, the crucial role Legal Aid South Africa plays, as guardians of due process and thus guardians of the rule of law, should not be overlooked. What should also not be overlooked is the importance of the quality of services they provide. As Clarence’s case attests, without good representation, a trial is not fair – and the outcome can be, at worst, a gross violation. The Wits Justice Project’s time is spent on cases like Clarence’s, where a chequered past or being in the wrong place at the wrong time can land you in prison. South Africa’s criminally accused – some of them career criminals, but many of them caught in a fraught cycle of poverty and violence – are guaranteed a fair process by our constitution and Legal Aid South Africa lawyers are usually the ones providing for it. As with all organisations, providing services to a big population, Legal Aid South Africa’s work is not always above reproach. The Wits Justice Project has written about the desperate cases of Thuba Sithole and David Mkhwanazi, who were both wrongfully arrested in tragic cases of mistaken identity and poor police work – and had their disastrous situations exacerbated by poor state legal aid. But while we work to hold these individual lawyers accountable, it should not deter us from recognising the importance of our state-funded legal assistance programme, which guarantees the right to a fair trial for everyone – regardless of wealth or social status. From Clarence’s 1960s prison cell to global recognition at the UN, state-funded legal assistance is rightly here to stay. The importance of using criminal defence work to push our justice systems into improvement and robust function is now an international norm and South Africans should recognise the value this spend from taxpayer coffers adds to our democracy.