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Vuka Tshabalala On Trial: The South African Jurisprudence Personified – by Vuyo Mthethwa – A Book Review
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Vuka Tshabalala On Trial: The South African Jurisprudence Personified – by Vuyo Mthethwa – A Book Review

Analyses and Reviews

Vuka Tshabalala On Trial: The South African Jurisprudence Personified – by Vuyo Mthethwa – A Book Review

We as Black African professionals rarely document our experiences in our various professions. The result is that we miss the opportunity to learn from one another’s achievements and mistakes, so that we can replicate successes and minimise mistakes. It is for this reason that I was excited when I learnt of the recently minted book on Judge President Vuka Tshabalala’s odyssey in the legal profession.

Titled Vuka Tshabalala On Trial: The South African Jurisprudence Personified, there was always going to be a lot going for a book on a person of Judge President Vuka Tshabalala’s stature. Called to the Bar in 1969, he owns the distinction of being the first Black African advocate (or Barrister) in the KwaZulu-Natal province. Being a pioneer comes with its challenges, and young Vuka Tshabalala was always to have to confront a few.

From the book we learn that his entry into the advocates profession was almost derailed by apartheid laws or, more to the point, by the slavish adherence to such unjust prescripts by lawyers no less – specifically the Group Areas Act of 1950 and later 1966 – when the Natal Bar, seeking refuge in untenable provisions of that Act, declined his application to do pupillage. Why? Well, because chambers were located in a “Whites Only” municipal area. That a colleague had agreed to mentor him made no difference.

The Group Areas Act prohibited persons classified by law as one race from living and working in an area demarcated by law for the exclusive use of another race. In order to work in a “Whites Only” area, a member of another racial group required a permit and was subjected to a curfew.

These are some of the barriers that confronted Black professionals and businesspeople seeking to enter various markets and participate in the South African economy. We are still bearing the brunt of the vestiges of these discriminatory laws decades after their ostensible repeal. So endemic are these vestiges even today, that Chief Justice Mogoeng Mogoeng was moved to write as follows in a Competition Law case in Competition Commission of SA v Mediclinic Southern Africa (Pty) Ltd and Another 2022 (4) SA 323 (CC):

“The equalisation and enhancement of opportunities to enter the mainstream economic space, to stay there and operate in an environment that permits the previously excluded, as well as small and medium-sized enterprises, to survive, succeed and compete freely or favourably, must always be allowed to enjoy their preordained and necessary pre-eminence. The legitimisation through legal sophistry or some right-sounding, and yet effectively inhibitive, jurisprudential innovations must be vigilantly guarded against and deliberately flushed out of our justice and economic systems.”

Yet, cynically, as our White colleagues were given a head start by law, measures that have been put in place to help Black people catch up in a race for participation in the national economy that was tilted by law in favour of one race from the very beginning have met with spirited attack from the beneficiaries of that favourable tilt. Even remedial measures, such as regulations promulgated pursuant to the Broad-Based Black Economic Empowerment Act, 2003, are currently under attack in the courts by traditionally large white firms of attorneys who seem to want to dictate the pace of transformation.

We learn from the book that the Natal Bar ’s compromise was to offer young Vuka Tshabalala the option of using his chosen mentor’s chambers when the mentor was not there, so as to spare his mentor’s white clients the embarrassment of having a Black African sitting in on their consultations. Compounded by curfew restrictions, this was an unworkable “solution” for young Vuka Tshabalala. So, living up to his name Vuka (an isiZulu and isiXhosa name which means “Wake up!” in English) he would not be deterred by this barrier to entry into the profession of his choice and opted to start his own practice without doing pupillage, and “learn on the job”.

The author says this turned out to be a blessing in disguise. To make a success of an advocates practice without having done pupillage is a remarkable achievement because the odds are stacked against you in every way imaginable. The reader can find out from the book just how young Vuka Tshabalala managed that feat.

The Bar’s compromise “solution” was unworkable for yet another reason. Pupillage (or apprenticeship) is not about access to chambers. It is principally about access to your mentor’s tutelage and forging professional relationships with instructing attorneys and other advocates in the set of chambers and beyond and learning from their experiences and cases. This was particularly important in 1969 because there were no curated formal classes and the standardised pupillage examinations were introduced only in 1980.

Pupillage is also about access to other tools of the trade like the library, the secretariat and other fellow pupils with whom to forge professional relationships. So, being smuggled into chambers after hours and risking a curfew breach when everyone has retired home was hardly a solution.

We also learn from the book that former Chief Justice Pius Langa did his pupillage under the mentorship of young Vuka Tshabalala. We learn that young Vuka consorted in practice in the same set of chambers (Group 7) with other luminaries of the legal profession including Chief Justice Sandile Ngcobo, Chief Justice Pius Langa, Justice Justice Poswa (his name is Justice), Justice Achmat Jappie and Justice Selby Baqwa, and that Justice Lewis Skweyiya (my uncle) who kept chambers on the sixth floor of Salmon Grove Chambers was a regular visitor to Group 7 and a very close friend of young Vuka Tshabalala.

These glimpses into the circles in which young Vuka Tshabalala moved should give one a sense of the richness of the material from which both Black and white legal practitioners can learn. For me, accounts in the book on the difficulties of practising law at the Bar while Black in South Africa – some of which are still confronting us today – and still emerge successful, are important reminders of our lived reality in this country. This is so not just as a reminder of these barriers for its own sake but, more importantly, for what still needs to be done to level the practice fields so that we can ultimately have fair competition that is not defined by race and gender. We begin to lose all perspective the moment we stop learning from past experiences both of others and of ourselves.

The crude irony of being denied an opportunity to lead for lacking “experience” in what is loosely termed “commercial law”, while “the market” stereotypes Black African advocates generally as good enough for anything but “commercial law” seems completely lost on those who often advance this “experience” argument when Black African advocates and judges are due for elevation. For instance, we learn from the book that Judge Tshabalala was almost a casualty of this “experience” argument when 14 of his white judicial colleagues sought to stop his appointment as Deputy Judge President of the Natal Provincial Division of the High Court (as it then was).

To this day, this “experience” argument still serves as a material barrier to the advancement of many Black African advocates in the legal profession, especially women. For example, you will find a question in the application form for the conferment of Silk (or Senior Counsel) status that asks the candidate how many times he or she has appeared in the Constitutional Court or the Supreme Court of Appeal. Generally, a low number of such appearances will all but guarantee that a candidate’s application will be declined. Yet, opportunities for many Black African male and female junior advocates to prove their worth in these two courts are almost non-existent.

As we now learn from this book, this is not a new phenomenon. The question is why this barrier is still allowed to remain firmly in place, or why efforts are not being made by the organised profession to address the barrier by putting pressure on the largest consumer of litigation services – the State – to engage more Black African junior advocates – especially women – in litigation at this level. It is by the publication of books like this that we can keep steadily chipping away at the barrier walls put up by the profession’s doublespeak.

***

Written from the perspective of one of his daughters, Vuyo Mthethwa, the book on Judge President Vuka Tshabalala’s odyssey in the legal profession – while insightfully and poignantly titled On Trial – may in my view be something of a lost opportunity.

I say so because, in my view, the story of one who has been put “On Trial” in one’s professional journey is often more effectively and authentically told by him or she who has travelled that path. Third person narratives of another’s personal experience may tend to denude the experience of its authenticity, leaving the reader wondering what the subject’s own raw feelings and thoughts are on the events narrated on his behalf by another who did not experience them.

I make allowance for the possibility that my criticism in this regard may be a tad unfair – even harsh – because with the passage of time memories do fade. The subject of this book should, by my calculation, be 88 years old this year. Time is often our foe on projects like this. I am informed that work on the book could have commenced as long ago as 2015 but for various reasons this did not happen.

Also, biographies (authorised or not) are a perfectly legitimate way of having one’s story told in the third person by another. But biographies – at least in my experience as a reader – often serve one of two purposes: either to extol only the virtues of the subject, suppressing all vices (as in a hagiography) or to expose the darker side (real, perceived or manufactured) of the subject.

Examples of this form of storytelling are legion: Mark Gevisser’s A Dream Deferred (2007) on President Thabo Mbeki, Adriaaan Basson’s Zuma Exposed (2012) on President Zuma and Professor Richard Calland’s The Zuma Years (2013) also on President Zuma can probably be categorised as biographical works intended as what Americans would colloquially term “Takedowns”. Contrastingly, Reverend Frank Chikane’s Eight Days in September (2012) on President Thabo Mbeki, Benjamin Pogrund’s How Can Man Die Better (1990) on Robert Sobukwe, and Bonga Mfuphi’s Defying the Gallows (2024) on Justice Mandlakayise John Hlophe would probably rank among hagiographies.

Neither of these biographical categories are fit for the telling of a story as important as that of Justice Vuka Tshabalala. Written from the perspective of a daughter – as the author herself tells us in the very first chapter under the rubric “Through the Eyes of a Daughter” – it would be unreasonable (perhaps even naïve) to expect a brutally objective account of a beloved father’s professional journey. The book is written with the admiration, love, pride, appreciation, reverence and respect of a doting daughter. That is admirable and to be expected.

But is the legacy of a towering and pioneering legal giant, who has flattened all racial barriers and confounded racial stereotypes in a profession that has in its DNA precisely those racial stereotypes, to be told only from the perspective of a loving daughter?

While there is room for a book told from a daughter’s perspective – and the author does commendably in telling the story of a legal giant that will have evolved over more than five decades – the story of Vuka Tshabalala’s journey as a Barrister and Judge deserves telling also from various other perspectives, including his own (if feasible). For this reason, a second telling in a second book, and third, and fourth, and more should be considered in my view. British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher has told her story more than once: first in a book titled The Downing Street Years (1993) and later in another titled The Path to Power (1995).

British Prime Minister Tony Blair, too, has had his story told more than once. A sanitised version of his journey was told in his autobiography titled A Journey (2010). This was followed some six years later by one of my favourite biographers, Tom Bower, in a less gilded account titled Broken Vows (2016).

In my view, the story of Judge President Vuka Tshabalala – in addition to the sterling and admirable work produced by his beloved daughter from a daughter’s perspective – deserves a first-hand account (even with the help of his contemporaries and proteges to jog his memory if needs be) of what he was subjected to by his own colleagues both at the Bar (when in 1969 he was, ultimately and in truth by reason of his race alone, denied the opportunity to do pupillage and keep chambers alongside other advocates) and on the Bench (when in 1997/8 some 14 white judges petitioned the Judicial Service Commission to stop his appointment as deputy Judge President on the ground that he would not enjoy the support and command the respect of other judges – virtually all white – again his race being the under-current).

Told in his own words, I cannot help but imagine that the authenticity of the pain he must have felt, the feeling of humiliation and disappointment he must have endured at the hands of his own colleagues, and lessons for others in those personal experiences will be palpable and deeply felt, and more effectively drive home the message “Never Again”.

As things are, the humiliation that Justice Vuka Tshabalala must have endured at the hands of his peers in 1997/8 was to be felt, again, by another Black African candidate for high judicial office some 13 years later in 2011. This was when Justice Mogoeng Mogoeng was subjected to a most unfortunate interrogation when nominated by then President of the country for the Chief Justice berth, and his nomination strongly opposed by some judges, some NGOs and some lawyers in private practice. Again, seniority and lack of experience featured among other charges – exactly the same arguments that came up in opposition to Judge Vuka Tshabalala’s nomination for the position of Deputy Judge President 13 years earlier. The lesson that the legal profession should have learned in 1998 had not been learnt.

That same lesson had not been learnt also in 1996/7 when – as Marumo Moerane SC reminds us in his testimonial to Judge President Vuka Tshabalala – some white judges of the Supreme Court of Appeal had petitioned the Judicial Service Commission to stop the appointment of Justice Ismail Mahomed (a Black Judge) as the first post-apartheid Chief Justice of South Africa in preference for one of their own in Judge Hennie van Heerden.

And so, history repeated itself and is likely to recur. This is the risk we take by not sharing our experiences in print so that others can better learn from them.

This is where the opportunity may have been lost in the writing of this book. Perhaps it is not lost but deferred. Justice Vuka Tshabalala could have taken us along on his painful journey, in his own words, sharing his own personal experiences complete with the emotional nuances that are resident only in him. He could presumably still do so with the assistance of his contemporaries and proteges if memory should be fuzzy on some aspects of his journey. This research work already done by his daughter for the production of this book could serve as a launch pad. From that first-hand account younger and aspiring judges would learn directly from the source of these painful experiences and perhaps make a socio-professional compact with one another that similar experiences are never to be repeated.

But all is not lost. More books can still be written on the odyssey of this pioneering legal giant – most preferably by his own hand or by a biographer of repute. No one can tell that story better than the man himself. There are numerous – but few – examples of retired Justices telling their own stories in a way that gives the rest of us pause for thought and learning. These include Justice Edwin Cameron’s Justice: A Personal Account (2014); Justice Cecil Margo’s Final Postponement: Reminiscences of a Crowded Life (1998); and Justice Dikgang Moseneke’s two memoirs, My Own Liberator: A Memoir (2016) and All Rise: A Judicial Memoir (2020). Brushes With The Law (1995) by Justice Marius Diemont is another. In my view, Justice Vuka Tshabalala’s story deserves telling in similar fashion, a direct engagement with the reader.

***

To borrow from culinary parlance, the book is tastefully plated over five courses – presented as Part One to Part Five over just under 220 pages. It is more a tasting menu than a feast – all the more pity given the larger-than-life personality of its subject.

Opening with free verse from a granddaughter, followed by a foreword from a Justice of the Constitutional Court who has worked with Justice Tshabalala, and closing off with an entire chapter of testimonials by proteges (who are still in practice as senior counsel) and judicial colleagues, the work offers a broad swathe of perspectives about its subject.

Conspicuously absent, however, is a word directly from the man himself about the defining moments of his professional journey – apart from a few quotes dotted here and there, including excerpts from some of his judgments that the author considers seminal. Even the part of the book said to be “In His Own Voice” covers all of three pages and comprises short extra curial quotes from the Judge.

In short, the book is a story told by a daughter about her father. Over five short chapters it covers topics on

“The Awaken[ing]” of the Judge which covers his entry into the advocates profession and introduces the reader to Vuka the man, the father, the husband, the granddad, the lawyer for the downtrodden and his tribulations while on circuit as a judge
the Judge as a “Trailblazer” which introduces the reader to brief testimonials by some of the Judge’s proteges and judicial colleagues and gives brief accounts of his prowess in court as a practising advocate
the Judge “On Trial” which covers his nomination for Deputy Judge Presidency of the Natal Provincial Division (as it used to be called) and the petition of 14 white judges against his appointment
“Judging the Bench” covering his administration style as Judge President following the resignation of Judge President Howard, and some of his landmark judgments, and
“Legal Eagles Speak” which comprises testimonials of colleagues and proteges.

A word on Judge Vuka Tshabalala’s Judge Presidency and the author’s analysis of some of his more notable judgments is necessary. We learn from the book that the white judges who had petitioned the Judicial Service Commission in 1997/8 to stop his elevation to Deputy Judge Presidency subsequently came around to respecting him for his ability to lead. This was inevitable for a man whose leadership style has been described as of “genial disposition”, “congenial”, “friendly by nature”, “approachable”, “cheerful”, “gregarious”, “sociable”, “generally having joie de vivre“, “kind and considerate”, “welcoming”, “affable”, and “a grounded, kind and friendly human being in a world that is otherwise hostile and exclusivist”.

As Judge President he was instrumental in the exponential increase of the number of Black and women Judges in the country. We learn that in just 22 years, the complement of Black judges increased from 1.8% in 1994 to 64% in 2016, and that the women complement rose from 1.2% to 35% over the same period. Judge President Vuka Tshabalala played a major role in that increase. Judge President of the KwaZulu Natal High Court, Thoba Poyo-Dlwati, testifies that she is “a first-hand beneficiary of his empowerment initiatives for women”.

The author identifies three judgments of Judge President Vuka Tshabalala as landmark judgments. One deals with the language of record in the courts, another deals with land occupation and a third deals with intimate partner violence. Her grasp of legal principles involved in each of these made me wonder whether she is not a closet senior advocate. Lest I spoil the reader’s appetite, I think it best not to disclose too much on the analysis.

I was particularly intrigued by the analysis on the court language of record issue. With 11 official languages (now 12 with the inclusion of sign language) all enjoying the same status in terms of the Constitution, the question that arises is why only one of them (English) is preferred as the language of record in our courts. The author helps the reader navigate the reasoning in the judgment without having to read the judgment itself. Of course, a dyed in wool lawyer will want to read the judgment – as I have – and form his or her own view on the outcome and reasoning.

Then there is the Nicholson judgment in Zuma v National Director of Public Prosecutions 2009 (1) BCLR 62 (N), described by the author as “demonstrat[ing] the conundrum between politics and the independence of the judiciary”. Indeed. The author explains the process that culminated in the case being allocated to Judge Chris Nicholson.

This was the case of one Jacob Zuma who sought the setting aside of the NDPP’s decision to prosecute him – for, among other things, fraud, racketeering, corruption and money laundering – because he had not been afforded an opportunity to make representations before the decision to prosecute (as required by the Constitution and the National Prosecuting Authority Act) following the NDPP changing his mind from not prosecuting to prosecuting him. Judge Nicholson obliged, finding that President Zuma was entitled to an opportunity to make representations before the decision to prosecute him was taken after a previous decision was not to prosecute. He also found that President Zuma may have been “prosecuted for what appears to be some ulterior political motive”.

In a judgment reported as NDPP v Zuma 2009 (2) SA 277 (SCA), following an expedited hearing on appeal (just 2 months after the Nicholson judgment) and a swift judgment (just 2 months after argument on appeal) Judge Nicholson’s judgment was stridently criticised (and reversed) by the Supreme Court of Appeal for, among other things, “chang[ing] the rules of the game, t[aking] his eyes off the ball and red-card[ing] not only players but also spectators”. He was also criticised for allegedly bringing his own political preferences or views to bear on his judgment.

The SCA said the motive for prosecution is irrelevant; what matters is whether there is a prima facie case which, if proven in criminal court, would lead to a conviction. This seems to me hard to reconcile with Constitutional Court authority in the Certification judgment which says any executive interference with prosecutorial independence would be subject to constitutional control by the Courts (In Re Certification of the Constitution of the RSA 1996 (4) SA 744 at para [146]). So, in light of this Concourt judgment, it is hard to understand how motive for a prosecution can be said to be irrelevant and immune to judicial review.

The SCA judgment is in my view remarkable for its apolitical facade. The proposition that a judge suddenly loses all political persuasion and conviction just by donning a robe and sitting on the elevated Bench is, in my view, an extraordinary misunderstanding of human nature. One wonders if judges themselves believe it possible. Perhaps the judgment came a decade too early. The Court might have done well to read a paper by Justice Madlanga of the Constitutional Court on Judging According to Personal Attributes.

The author does not express a view on the merits of the Nicholson judgment. Judge Nicholson himself acknowledges (in the testimonials chapter of the book) that his judgment was reversed on appeal. He adds that he is “satisfied that the way I conducted the case was in the interests of justice”. He says a little more, but it is best to leave the detail for the book to unfurl.

Like any biographical work worthy of that characterisation, there are photographs that tell the story of the subject. Surprisingly, a copy of the single most controversial aspect of Judge President Tshabalala’s ascendency up the judicial totem pole is not included among the many photographs – the petition by 14 white Judges of the Natal Provincial Division to the Judicial Service Commission against his appointment as Deputy Judge President.

For those of us who know of the petition only through media reports, this was in my view an opportunity lost to expose in the book for the reader to see the precise reasons advanced by the 14 judges for opposing the elevation of Justice Tshabalala to Deputy Judge Presidency. One should not have to troll the ether for a document of such centrality to the rise of one of South Africa’s foremost jurists. Hopefully in another follow-up book, the petition will be included.

I am pleased by the publication of this book on the career experiences of one of the leading lights in the South African advocates profession and on the Bench. It has given us a glimpse of his professional journey. But a glimpse is in my view a lot less than a pioneering legal giant like this deserves. Hopefully, a fitting tome will follow – soon.

It is also my hope that the publication of this book will be an incentive for other retired Black African Judges to tell their story in a book so that we can learn from their experiences and mistakes and celebrate and replicate their triumphs. As an unsubtle nudge and a wink – without being exhaustive – I have in mind books on Judges like Chief Justice Mogoeng Mogoeng, Chief Justice Sandile Ngcobo, Chief Justice Mnyamezeli Zondo, Justice Chris Jafta, Justice Bess Nkabinde, Justice Sisi Khampempe, Justice Mbuyiseli Madlanga (whose retirement is imminent), Justice Justice Poswa, and many others. It is through the telling, in written word, of their triumphs in the legal profession against all odds that we, as younger Black African lawyers, can unshackle ourselves from the chains of inferiority imposed upon us by the amorphous market that is the South African professional legal landscape.

The End

***

By AnchoredinLaw|2025-06-23T14:37:57+02:00June 21st, 2025|Analyses and Reviews|Comments Off

THE TRUTH ABOUT RACE-BASED REMEDIAL MEASURES IN SOUTH AFRICA – By Vuyani Ngalwana SC
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THE TRUTH ABOUT RACE-BASED REMEDIAL MEASURES IN SOUTH AFRICA – By Vuyani Ngalwana SC

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THE TRUTH ABOUT RACE-BASED REMEDIAL MEASURES IN SOUTH AFRICA – By Vuyani Ngalwana SC

I am a Black South African and a senior legal practitioner in South African higher Courts with more than 25 years’ experience especially in public law and commercial law. I have also appeared in neighbouring Namibian Courts. My legal practice is mainly focused at appellate level. For the first 14 years of my life, I grew up in South Africa’s dusty black townships that resemble Nazi concentration camps in their design, an idea largely of the apartheid white South African government – through a series of pieces of legislation beginning with the Group Areas Act of 1950 – aimed at fostering its idea of “separate development” of various race groups.

As a lawyer of many years’ experience in South Africa, I am driven by many recent developments to offer this Constitutional law-based perspective. These recent developments range from a traditionally white-interests political party (that is in a coalition government with Nelson Mandela’s African National Congress) threatening to collapse the coalition over South Africa’s President’s signing of a new Expropriation Bill into law, to the outlandish pronouncements and observations made by the policy head of Afriforum, a self-proclaimed white sectional interest group, in a recent interview with Tucker Carlson.

These recent developments have brought into sharp focus the question of the constitutionality of race-based remedial measures aimed at redressing the race-based imbalances caused by the socio-economic monstrosity that is apartheid, as a coterie of organisations that go under the umbrella of Afriforum and Solidarity (a white mainly Afrikaner trade union) have travelled to the United States determined to portray South Africa as a genocidal, racist and rapacious state that seeks to take away property from white people without compensating them. This comes in the wake of President Cyril Ramaphosa signing into law a piece of legislation styled the Expropriation Act, 13 of 2024, replacing an old pre-Constitution (1975) piece of legislation bearing a similar title.

It is not my purpose in this short paper to discuss that piece of legislation, save to say that the claim that this new Expropriation Act seeks to deprive white people of land without any compensation is rooted in mendacity of a most disingenuous and dangerous kind. I suspect the people who spread this falsehood know that they are either lying or are grossly overstating their position. After all, if they truly believe what they are propagating, they would already have challenged the constitutional validity of this piece of legislation in the courts and, if they are correct in their claim, the South African courts will set aside the legislation as unconstitutional – a power or competence that the South African Constitution confers on higher courts in South Africa.

This is because section 25(1) of the South African Constitution – which became the supreme law in South Africa in December 1996 but came into effect in February 1997 – prohibits “arbitrary deprivation of property”. Although property ownership or possession is not an absolute right in South Africa for everyone, there are very stringent justification grounds that government would have to satisfy for the limitation of a right to property to pass constitutional muster.

The South African Constitution – hailed around the world as the most liberal Constitution in the world – provides that the rights contained in the Bill of Rights Chapter of the Constitution (and these include property or land rights) can only be “limited” (not taken away, but limited) in terms of “law of general application” (not edicts or “executive orders”) to the extent that such limitation is “reasonable and justifiable in an open and democratic society based on human dignity, equality and freedom” (not based on a politician’s whim or presidential “executive order”). Such limitation, says the South African Constitution, must factor in (1) the nature of the right; (2) the importance of the purpose of the limitation; (3) the nature and extent of the limitation; (4) the relation between the limitation and its purpose; and (5) less restrictive means to achieve the desired purpose. So, for example, if there exist less invasive means of achieving the desired governmental purpose than limiting a property right or expropriating land, the South African courts – which are the final arbiters in these matters, not politicians – will not allow expropriation.

My purpose in this paper is to place what Afriforum and company claim about South Africa in a proper and Constitutional law-based perspective without political spin or damaging propaganda content. It is my hope that those not familiar with the South African constitutional and justice system will gain a better understanding of what the real objective truth is as regards race-based remedial measures in South Africa.

The purpose of Race-Based Remedial Measures

The South African Constitution emerges from many years of multi-party negotiations (at least that is the idées reçus) between those who were oppressors on the one hand (predominantly, but not exclusively, the Afrikaner section of the white population in South Africa) and those who were oppressed under the apartheid system on the other (all Black South Africans). Its provisions are a product of agreement or compromise by all political parties in South Africa. These include parties that overtly represent the sectional interests of white people, including those whom Afriforum claims to represent in its denigration and deprecation of my country, South Africa, in a foreign country, the United States.

The proper perspective is vastly different from what the United States has been told by Afriforum, in its recent visit there.

Before the Constitution was passed into law in December 1996 (and before its interim predecessor in 1993), Black South Africans were not allowed by law to own property or land in South Africa. Numerous pieces of legislation, including the Group Areas Act, 1950, saw to that. Even ingenious ways by Black South Africans to own property or trade in so-called “white areas” within their own country through corporations were quashed by the apartheid courts’ executive-minded interpretation of legislation. Instead, successive apartheid white governments carved out pockets of unproductive land in what they cynically called “homelands” or “bantustans” and decreed that Black South Africans must live in those pockets and govern themselves there. These were divided according to ethnicity, so that Zulus (AmaZulu) had their own “homeland”, Xhosas (amaXhosa) their own, Sothos (baSotho) their own, and so on.

Black South Africans had no voting rights in South Africa and so could not influence laws and political policies within South Africa. Black townships (concentration camps) were designed to serve as temporary residential areas from where white companies and families could source labour at slave wage levels, and in order to reside in those townships and secure “employment”, adult male Black South Africans were required by law always to carry a work and residence permit (the dompass) on their person and produce it on demand by any police official (and by any white person who served as an extension of the apartheid “influx control” system).

Because Black South Africans were not considered citizens in South Africa, they became victims of many forced removals from their land which was taken for white occupation and “ownership”.

It is from this perspective that Race-based Remedial Measures in South Africa should be understood. Far from being “reverse racism” or “revenge racism”, these measures aim at redressing apartheid’s socio-economic vestiges. They are a concept that has been accorded some notoriety in recent years in South Africa, and now seemingly in the United States courtesy of Afriforum and Solidarity. This is unfortunate as it diverts the attention of all South Africans and the world away from where it should be: building a South African nation that is moored on the constitutional foundation of sustainable equity, fairness and the rule of law.

As I understand it, Race-based Remedial Measures are rooted in the Constitution of South Africa and, as a “measure designed to protect and advance categories of persons disadvantaged by unfair discrimination”, it has found support in numerous judgments of the Constitutional Court of South Africa, the highest court in the South African court hierarchy – an equivalent, if you like, of the United States Supreme Court or the British Supreme Court.

This is not surprising. Following the war, largely in Europe, between 1939 and 1945 – although human rights abuses against the Jewish people of Europe date back to at least 1933 soon after the Nazi Party came to power in Germany – reparations for Jewish people have continued unabated. To this day, more than 8 decades after the end of that war, one still reads about reparations for Jewish folks and perpetrators of human rights abuses against them being hunted down. It is generally accepted that about 6 million Jews were murdered and their property taken from them over that period between 1933 and 1945.

By comparison, countless numbers of Black South Africans have suffered genocidal intent at the hands of successive white apartheid governments, their women and children raped, and their land taken away from them over decades. No one is pursuing the hunt for perpetrators of those atrocities because Black South Africans agreed to “let bygones be bygones” as the last apartheid Prime Minister FW de Klerk infamously and cynically put it. But, at the very least, one would have expected that Reparations of the kind offered to the Jews of Europe would not only be welcome but also demanded by the nations of the world, including the United States.

How did we end up with what is otherwise a noble concept of reparations or remedial measures sitting in the gutter and being used as a blunt political instrument that has the potential of reversing the negotiated settlement that gave birth to what is widely termed the miracle that is the “New South Africa”? I see a number of players contributing to this unfortunate state of affairs, but we could probably group them into two broad categories.

There are those who mischievously use the term in a negative sense, primarily because their economic interests seem to lie in the suppression of the Transformation of South Africa’s economy. Simply put, if the South African economy were to be transformed so that the Black majority can have a seat at the economic table, some people would need to give up the economic power they have held for eons. Thus, in creating a diversion, to what has now become an emotive issue, the South African people do not see the full picture.

Then there are those who do not see the connection between a diversion of attention, on the one hand, and the lack of transformation, on the other. And so, by their ignorance, they tend to serve as witting or unwitting conveyors of the first lot for the message that Race-based Remedial Measures mean the looting of privately owned land or property. And thus, without much effort, a term that should have a positive meaning in South Africa has become a weaponised “swear word”.

Now, let us consider the anchor for Race-based Remedial Measures and what makes them in perfect sync with the South African Constitution – and, I dare say, with Public International Law if the Jewish experience is any indication.

The SA Constitution and the Legislation that gives effect to it

The starting point, as always, is the SA Constitution. Sections 9 and 217 of the SA Constitution are the provisions that anchor Race-based Remedial Measures in South Africa’s economic transformation agenda. Section 9, in relevant part, says:

“(1) Everyone is equal before the law and has the right to equal protection and benefit of the law.

(2) Equality includes the full and equal enjoyment of all rights and freedoms. To promote the achievement of equality, legislative and other measures designed to protect or advance persons, or categories of persons, disadvantaged by unfair discrimination may be taken.

(3) . . .”

Section 217 says:

“(1) When an organ of state in the national, provincial or local sphere of government, or any other institution identified in national legislation, contracts for goods or services, it must do so in accordance with a system which is fair, equitable, transparent, competitive and cost-effective.

(2) Subsection (1) does not prevent the organs of state or institutions referred to in that subsection from implementing a procurement policy providing for–

(a) categories of preference in the allocation of contracts; and

(b) the protection or advancement of persons, or categories of persons, disadvantaged by unfair discrimination.

(3) National legislation must prescribe a framework within which the policy referred to in subsection (2) must be implemented.”

But, in their current phrasing, it would seem that these constitutional provisions do not make the taking of these measures, that are designed to protect or advance persons, or categories of persons, disadvantaged by apartheid, compulsory. They seem to leave that task in the discretion of each government administration. Whether that is commensurate response to the magnitude of the problem sought to be addressed, is a question I leave to you.

But once that discretion has been exercised favourably, there can be no valid complaint, except on the basis of the test laid down by the Constitutional Court in Minister of Finance v Van Heerden 2004 (6) SA 121 (CC) in these words:

“When a measure is challenged as violating the equality provision, its defender may meet the claim by showing that the measure is contemplated by s 9(2) in that it promotes the achievement of equality and is designed to protect and advance persons disadvantaged by unfair discrimination. It seems to me that to determine whether a measure falls within s 9(2) the enquiry is threefold. The first yardstick relates to whether the measure targets persons or categories of persons who have been disadvantaged by unfair discrimination; the second is whether the measure is designed to protect or advance such persons or categories of persons; and the third requirement is whether the measure promotes the achievement of equality.”

The Promotion of Equality and Prevention of Unfair Discrimination Act, 4 of 2000 (the Equality Act) is one of the “measures” envisaged in s 9(2) and s 217(3) of the SA Constitution. Its preamble sets out in clear and unambiguous terms the values that inform its passing into law and the legitimate governmental purpose it aims to achieve:

“The consolidation of democracy in our country requires the eradication of social and economic inequalities, especially those that are systemic in nature, which were generated in our history by colonialism, apartheid and patriarchy, and which brought pain and suffering to the great majority of our people;

Although significant progress has been made in restructuring and transforming our society and its institutions, systemic inequalities and unfair discrimination remain deeply embedded in social structures, practices and attitudes, undermining the aspirations of our constitutional democracy;

The basis for progressively redressing these conditions lies in the Constitution which, amongst others, upholds the values of human dignity, equality, freedom and social justice in a united, non-racial and non-sexist society where all may flourish;

South Africa also has international obligations under binding treaties and customary international law in the field of human rights which promote equality and prohibit unfair discrimination. Among these obligations are those specified in the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women and the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination;

Section 9 of the Constitution provides for the enactment of national legislation to prevent or prohibit unfair discrimination and to promote the achievement of equality;

This implies the advancement, by special legal and other measures, of historically disadvantaged individuals, communities and social groups who were dispossessed of their land and resources, deprived of their human dignity and who continue to endure the consequences;

This Act endeavours to facilitate the transition to a democratic society, united in its diversity, marked by human relations that are caring and compassionate, and guided by the principles of equality, fairness, equity, social progress, justice, human dignity and freedom…”

Now, what has the Constitutional Court – the highest court in the South African court hierarchy – said about all this?

Constitutional Court pronouncements on Race-based Remedial Measures

The South African courts, including the SA Constitutional Court, have ruled in support of measures taken pursuant to s 9(2) of the Constitution, for the protection and advancement of people disadvantaged by apartheid. Let us be clear; the “persons, or categories of persons, disadvantaged by unfair discrimination” that s 9(2) of the SA Constitution references are mainly and predominantly Black South Africans.

In Stoman v Minister of Safety and Security and Others 2002 (3) SA 468 (T) at 477F-H (cited with approval by van der Westhuizen J in Barnard 2014 (6) SA 123 (CC) at para [137]), the North Gauteng High Court said:

“[T]he recognition of substantive equality means . . . that equality is more than mere non‑discrimination. When a society, and perhaps the particular role players in a certain situation, come from a long history of discrimination, which took place individually, systemically and systematically, it cannot simply be assumed that people are in equal positions and that measures distinguishing between them amount to unfair discrimination.”

In National Coalition for Gay and Lesbian Equality and Another v Minister of Justice and Others 1999 (1) SA 6 (CC) at para [60] the SA Constitutional Court said:

“It is insufficient for the Constitution merely to ensure, through its Bill of Rights, that statutory provisions which have caused such unfair discrimination in the past are eliminated. Past unfair discrimination frequently has ongoing negative consequences, the continuation of which is not halted immediately when the initial causes are eliminated, and unless remedied, may continue for a substantial time and even indefinitely. Like justice, equality delayed is equality denied.”

In South African Police Service v Solidarity obo Barnard 2014 (6) SA 123 (CC), the Constitutional Court said (at para 29):

“At the point of transition, two decades ago, our society was divided and unequal along the adamant lines of race, gender and class. Beyond these plain strictures there were indeed other markers of exclusion and oppression, some of which our Constitution lists. So, plainly, it has a transformative mission. It hopes to have us re-imagine power relations within society. In so many words, it enjoins us to take active steps to achieve substantive equality, particularly for those who were disadvantaged by past unfair discrimination. This was and continues to be necessary because, whilst our society has done well to equalise opportunities for social progress, past disadvantage still abounds.”

In Minister of Finance v Van Heerden 2004 (6) SA 121 (CC) the Constitutional Court said:

“The essence of restitutionary measures is to guarantee the right to equality for the reason that, without such measures, the achievement of equitable treatment will continue to elude us as a society. The Labour Court (Waglay J as he then was) commented, in Harmse v City of Cape Town, that the implementation of employment equity orientated measures is a duty placed upon designated employers by the Employment Equity Act which also provides them with affirmative action as a defence against claims of unfair discrimination. Commenting on that decision, Prof Carole Cooper states that employment equity orientated measures ‘do not amount to an exception to equality but are integral to its achievement’ which is in essence ‘substantive equality’.”

In Bato Star Fishing (Pty) Ltd v Minister of Environmental Affairs and Tourism and Others 2004 (4) SA 490 (CC) it said:

“[75] The commitment to achieving equality and remedying the consequences of past discrimination is immediately apparent in section 9(2) of the Constitution. That provision makes it clear that under our Constitution ‘[e]quality includes the full and equal enjoyment of all rights and freedoms’. And more importantly for present purposes, it permits ‘legislative and other measures designed to protect or advance persons, or categories of persons, disadvantaged by unfair discrimination’. These measures may be taken ‘[t]o promote the achievement of equality’.

[76] But transformation is a process. There are profound difficulties that will be confronted in giving effect to the constitutional commitment of achieving equality. We must not underestimate them. The measures that bring about transformation will inevitably affect some members of the society adversely, particularly those coming from the previously advantaged communities. It may well be that other considerations may have to yield in favour of achieving the goals we fashioned for ourselves in the Constitution. What is required, though, is that the process of transformation must be carried out in accordance with the Constitution.”

Again, in Minister of Finance and Another v Van Heerden 2004 (6) SA 121 (CC), the SA Constitutional Court made it clear that measures implemented to redress past imbalances are not a deviation from, or invasive of, the right to equality, but rather contribute to the constitutional goal of achieving equality in order to ensure the full and equal enjoyment of all rights. Justice Moseneke said:

“[30] Thus, our constitutional understanding of equality includes what Ackermann J in National Coalition for Gay and Lesbian Equality and Another v Minister of Justice and Another calls ‘remedial or restitutionary equality’. Such measures are not in themselves a deviation from or invasive of, the right to equality guaranteed by the Constitution. They are not ‘reverse discrimination’ or ‘positive discrimination’ as argued by the claimant in this case. They are integral to the reach of our equality protection. In other words, the provisions of s 9(1) and s 9(2) are complementary; both contribute to the constitutional goal of achieving equality to ensure ‘full and equal enjoyment of all rights’. A disjunctive or oppositional reading of the two subsections would frustrate the foundational equality objective of the Constitution and its broader social justice imperatives.

[31] Equality before the law protection in s 9(1) and measures to promote equality in s 9(2) are both necessary and mutually reinforcing but may sometimes serve distinguishable purposes, which I need not discuss now. However, what is clear is that our Constitution and in particular s 9 thereof, read as a whole, embraces for good reason a substantive conception of equality inclusive of measures to redress existing inequality. Absent a positive commitment progressively to eradicate socially constructed barriers to equality and to root out systematic or institutionalised underprivilege, the constitutional promise of equality before the law and its equal protection and benefit must, in the context of our country, ring hollow.”

The South African equality jurisprudence is clear. The taking of measures aimed at advancing persons or categories of persons disadvantaged by apartheid is to be celebrated and reinforced, not ridiculed. Race-based Remedial Measures fall among that category of measures envisaged in s 9(2) of the SA Constitution. Those in the executive of government, and who swore an oath to protect and uphold the Constitution, who either actively campaign against Race-based Remedial Measures or who fail to implement it, are failing in their constitutional obligation and there is a remedy in the SA Constitution itself against an executive which is guilty of such conduct. Section 89(1)(a) of the SA Constitution says the National Assembly (Members of Parliament) may remove the President for “a serious violation of the Constitution or the law”.

If Members of Parliament should themselves fail to hold the President to account for his failure to fulfil his constitutional obligation of Race-based Remedial Measures, citizens can approach the courts to force them to do just that. We have a perfect example of precisely the exercise of that right by citizens through a political party in South Africa’s Constitutional Court’s so-called Secret Ballot case [UDM v The Speaker and Others (CCT 89/17) [2017] ZACC 21; 2017 (8) BCLR 1061 (CC); 2017 (5) SA 300 (CC) (22 June 2017)].

SA Government Policy

Not only are Race-based Remedial Measures under the umbrella of Radical Economic Transformation anchored in the SA Constitution, they also, rightly, spring from a resolution of the ruling party and a policy of government. On 9 February 2017, the then President of the ruling African National Congress and of South Africa unfurled the policy of Radical Economic Transformation at his State of the Nation Address. He said:

“The skewed nature of ownership and leadership patterns needs to be corrected. There can be no sustainability in any economy if the majority is excluded in this manner. In my discussions with the business community, they accepted these transformation imperatives.

Today we are starting a new chapter of radical socio-economic transformation. We are saying that we should move beyond words, to practical programmes. The State will play a role in the economy to drive that transformation. In this regard, government will utilise to the maximum, the strategic levers that are available to the State. This includes legislation, regulations, licensing, budget and procurement as well as Broad-based Black Economic Empowerment charters to influence the behaviour of the private sector and drive transformation…

During this year, the Department of Economic Development will bring legislation to Cabinet that will seek to amend the Competition Act, 1998 (Act 89 of 1998). It will, among others, address the need to have a more inclusive economy and to de-concentrate the high levels of ownership and control we see in many sectors. We will then table the legislation for consideration by Parliament. In this way, we seek to open up the economy to new players, give black South Africans opportunities in the economy and indeed help to make the economy more dynamic, competitive and inclusive. This is our vision of radical economic transformation.”

The Competition Act was indeed amended in 2018 to bring public policy considerations within the competition law landscape. The Competition Appeal Court (CAC), in eMedia Investments (Pty) Ltd South Africa v Multichoice (Pty) Ltd and another [2022] 2 CPLR 23 (CAC) has now highlighted the breadth of the meaning of the word “participation” within the context of the Competition Act, so that it covers not only firms that participate in a given market but also those that do so sustainably, whether they are competitors or customers of the dominant firm. It said (at para 90):

“An amendment to the Competition Act in 2018 introduced various definitions making them wider and ensuring closer consistency with the transformative goals of the Competition Act. The word “exclusionary act” is defined in section 1(c) to mean an act that impedes or prevents a firm from entering into, participating in or expanding within a market. A further amendment in section 1(h) of the Act defined “participate” as referring to the ability of or opportunity for firms to sustain themselves in the market. …”

There are disingenuous attempts at drawing a false parallel between remedial measures aimed at redressing apartheid’s insidious effects on Black South Africans on the one hand, and apartheid’s crude and murderous racial discrimination against Black South Africans on the other. While these race-based remedial measures are anchored in what the world accept as the most liberal Constitution in the world, and are subject to constitutional scrutiny by the courts, the apartheid policy was declared a Crime Against Humanity by the United Nations General Assembly in 1966 which was endorsed by the Security Council in 1984. There is simply no comparison or equivalence.

Conclusion

Race-based Remedial Measures are a constitutional imperative in South Africa. They are rooted in the Constitution itself. The South African courts, including the Constitutional Court, supports their implementation as remedial measures intended to address the economic exclusion of Black people under apartheid. The association of these measures with “apartheid” or “unfair race discrimination” is mischievous and, I venture, intended to suppress Transformation of the South African economy. Right-thinking South Africans and world leaders should not be deterred from a constitutional path by mischievous misalignment of a perfectly constitutional project.

I would respectfully urge those – in the United States and elsewhere – who are not familiar with South Africa’s Constitutional landscape and jurisprudence to familiarise themselves with it before accepting at face value everything they are told by persons and organisations that seek to promote their own sectarian interests at the cost of their own country’s security and economic interests. The collapse of the South African economy is in no one’s interest, including the United States.

___________________________

By AnchoredinLaw|2025-03-07T08:41:00+02:00March 5th, 2025|Blog, General, International|2 Comments

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segments 6 & 7: The Zondo Commission & the Sealing of CR17 record
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In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segments 6 & 7: The Zondo Commission & the Sealing of CR17 record

Legal Voices

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segments 6 & 7: The Zondo Commission & the Sealing of CR17 record

These are the last Segments – the Sixth and Seventh Segments – of our chat as Sikhakhane SC dives deeper into various key issues that he tackles in his book, Odyssey of Liberation: A Memoir of a Rebel Advocate.

In this last conversation Adv Sikhakhane SC discusses the State Capture (or Zondo) Commission and how the decision not to file answering papers in the Commission’s application to have President Zuma declared in contempt of the Constitutional Court and committed to prison.

We also touch on the sealing of the CR17 record – the keeping of Public Protector Mkhwebane’s rule 53 record on the PhalaPhala investigation from public scrutiny

Specifically, some of the following issues come up:

Did the Zuma legal team “walk out” of the Zondo Commission?
Was the purpose of the Zondo Commission to unearth the truth?
What is the true test for truth-seeking?
Who made the decision to defy the Constitutional Court order for Zuma to appear again at the Zondo Commission?
Whose decision was it for Zuma not to oppose the Zondo Commission’s application to have him committed to prison for not appearing (again) at the Zondo Commission?
Why did the Zondo Commission force Zuma to appear before it (again) on pain of imprisonment for refusing to appear, but refuse Fraser the opportunity to appear and cross examine his accusers and present his own version?
Was the CR17 review record sealed by agreement?

Note: The audio quality in this video may not be perfect. We are working on fixing the problem. Thank you for your understanding!

By AnchoredinLaw|2025-02-09T09:03:02+02:00February 9th, 2025|Legal Voices|Comments Off

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 5: The State Capture Commission
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In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 5: The State Capture Commission

Legal Voices

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 5: The State Capture Commission

This is the Fifth Segment of Seven.

In the Seven Segments, Sikhakhane SC dives deeper into various key issues that he tackles in his book, Odyssey of Liberation: A Memoir of a Rebel Advocate.

In this Fifth Segment Adv Sikhakhane SC discusses the State Capture (or Zondo) Commission.

Note: The audio quality in this video may not be perfect. We are working on fixing the problem. Thank you for your understanding!

By AnchoredinLaw|2025-02-02T10:35:42+02:00February 2nd, 2025|Legal Voices|Comments Off

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 4: The SA Judiciary
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In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 4: The SA Judiciary

Legal Voices

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 4: The SA Judiciary

This is the Fourth Segment of Seven.

In the Seven Segments, Sikhakhane SC dives deeper into various key issues that he tackles in his book, Odyssey of Liberation: A Memoir of a Rebel Advocate.

In this Fourth Segment Sikhakhane SC discusses his views generally about the South African Judiciary and specifically about how it tends to be influenced by the “dominant narrative” and inconsistent findings depending on the identity of the litigant.

Note: The audio quality in this video may not be perfect. We are working on fixing the problem. Thank you for your understanding!

By AnchoredinLaw|2025-02-01T10:07:42+02:00February 1st, 2025|Legal Voices|Comments Off

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 3: Behind the scenes on Concourt Judges’ Complaint against Judge President Hlophe
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In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 3: Behind the scenes on Concourt Judges’ Complaint against Judge President Hlophe

Legal Voices

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 3: Behind the scenes on Concourt Judges’ Complaint against Judge President Hlophe

This is the Third Segment of Seven.

In the Seven Segments, Sikhakhane SC dives deeper into various key issues that he tackles in his book, Odyssey of Liberation: A Memoir of a Rebel Advocate.

In this Third Segment we go behind the scenes of the complaint by Judges of the Constitutional Court against Western Cape Judge President Mandlakayise John Hlophe in 2008, which later culminated in his impeachment in February 2024.

What exactly triggered the Concourt judges’ complaint against Judge President Hlophe?
Who was the real force behind this complaint?
Why was the complaint brought back to life after it had already been resolved by the Judicial Service Commission in 2009?
Why did Adv Sikhakhane SC, who was initially on brief as Counsel for the Concourt Judges, become “uncomfortable” with the brief?
Why did Adv Sikhakhane SC ultimately withdraw from the brief?
Eintlik, what is the fuss about?

These are some of the questions that Adv Sikhakhane SC helps us navigate and find answers to.

Note: The audio quality in this video may not be perfect. We are working on fixing the problem. Thank you for your understanding!

By AnchoredinLaw|2025-01-25T12:21:38+02:00January 25th, 2025|Legal Voices|Comments Off

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 2
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In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 2

Legal Voices

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate – Segment 2

This is the Second Segment of Seven.

In the Seven Segments, Sikhakhane SC dives deeper into various key issues that he tackles in his book, Odyssey of Liberation: A Memoir of a Rebel Advocate.

In this Second Segment we lay a foundation for what follows in the next 5 segments. In order to grasp fully the discussions in the next 5 segments, it is necessary to understand and appreciate the context from which they spring.

That foundation and context is provided here, where Sikhakhane SC discusses:

Miseducation as a tool of psychological conquest of Africans by colonial forces that Africans must reverse in order to be truly free from the grip of inferiority and beat their path to self-determination
How Miseducation manifests itself in the conduct of Black South Africans today
The folly of Transformation of structures designed for the oppression of a people in the hope of turning them into vessels of progress and equality
Why seeking to Transform white colonial structures, designed to achieve the opposite of what transformation aim to change them into, is a fool’s errand
Why it is important for Black people to build and run their own structures from the ground up, instead of seeking to transform existing white colonial structures built to entrench coloniality

Note: The audio quality in this video may not be perfect. We are working on fixing the problem. Thank you for your understanding!

By AnchoredinLaw|2025-01-24T13:56:11+02:00January 24th, 2025|Legal Voices|Comments Off

The Judge Mbenenge Inquiry – A Response to Dr Ramphele
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The Judge Mbenenge Inquiry – A Response to Dr Ramphele

Blog, General, News

The Judge Mbenenge Inquiry – A Response to Dr Ramphele

In an opinion piece published yesterday – on 22 January 2025 – on News24, Dr Mamphela Ramphele attacks a colleague for his line of questioning a complainant in a gross misconduct inquiry into a Judge’s conduct involving alleged indecent behaviour and improper cellphone text message exchanges with a woman staffer in the division of the high court of which the Judge is Judge President.

It is tempting to dismiss Dr Ramphele’s criticism as the usual bluster of a politician who has found an election campaign angle for the 2026 local government elections and beyond. But Dr Ramphele is a respected leader outside the rough and tumble of the cesspool that is politics, and so her criticism commands a measure of respect and must be addressed on its merits.

It is not my place to comment on the merits of the complaint that is currently before the Judicial Conduct Tribunal (JCT) and I expressly decline to do so. It would in any event be inappropriate. I focus only on two aspects of Dr Ramphele’s criticism as these touch on the process of which I am familiar as a legal practitioner.

Dr Ramphele writes:

“The line of questioning by advocate Muzi Sikhakhane suggesting that Andiswa Mengo enjoyed the harassment and played along with it, is testimony to the unreconstructed patriarchal attitudes that assume women are playthings that just need to be coerced into acknowledging their enjoyment of being the centre of attention of men. How appalling.”

She continues:

“It is also this approach by defence lawyers that discourages many women from reporting harassment and abuse for fear of being subjected to ridicule and disrespect as Mengo is experiencing at this Tribunal.”

Then, having appealed to the Chief Justice “as a woman … to intervene and stop this abuse”, Dr Ramphele turns to the Chairman of the panel that is tasked with making a finding on the gross misconduct complaint:

“I appeal to Judge Bernard Ngoepe, the chair of this Judicial Tribunal, to not be a passive bystander in the face of the violation of Mengo. Judge Ngoepe, you are enjoined by our Constitution to protect and preserve the human dignity of Mengo.

Please exercise your duty of care for her as a vulnerable traumatised woman who is being retraumatised. Our country deserves no less to be able to proudly declare that we live by the values of our Constitution.”

These observations or criticisms demonstrate what appears to be a lack of understanding of proceedings before the JCT, the role of the panel on the JCT, and the role of Counsel representing the Judge against whom a complaint has been lodged. Therefore, lest an incorrect impression is created, things need to be placed in a proper perspective – at least to the extent that I appreciate these matters.

***

As I understand it, the complaint before the JCT is one of sexual harassment and indecent behaviour as a form of gross misconduct by a Judge. The moral turpitude of the Judge in his relations with a woman staffer in a division of the high court of which he is judicial head is not a factor for the JCT to consider. In other words, the question that the JCT panel has to decide is a legal, not a moral one. The answer to that question will be informed by the facts as understood by the JCT panel from the evidence not only given by, but also extracted from, the complainant, the Judge and other witnesses that each may elect to call.

As I understand the complainant’s evidence thus far, she says the sexual attentions from the Judge towards her were neither invited nor welcome by her. Therefore, the question that the JCT panel must answer is whether the complainant did or did not invite or encourage or welcome the Judge’s sexual overtures. The factual evidence given by and extracted from the complainant, the Judge and other witnesses (if any), as understood by the JCT panel, will be the only key by which the truth can be unlocked.

If there exists admissible evidence that tends to demonstrate a measure of uncoerced acquiescence on the complainant’s part, Counsel for the Judge, who is accused of uninvited and unwelcome sexual overtures towards the complainant, would be failing in his professional duty if he did not bring that evidence to the attention of the JCT panel, including by extracting it from the complainant herself. It is that simple.

A finding of gross misconduct against a Judge has serious consequences for a Judge, including impeachment. Although it is generally assumed (including by the Department of Justice and Constitutional Development) that once impeached, a Judge loses judicial benefits – ie, salary, gratuity, allowances and other benefits provided for in sections 5 and 6 of the Judges’ Remuneration and Conditions of Employment Act, 47 of 2001 to which he would otherwise be entitled on retirement – and there is no provision in any applicable prescript that expressly or impliedly justifies such an assumption, it is nevertheless an assumption that has real practical effects.

So, given these serious consequences of impeachable conduct for an implicated Judge, if there exists evidence – which can be extracted from the complainant herself – which in the view of the JCT panel tends to show that the Judge’s sexual overtures towards the complainant were welcome and/or encouraged by her, and therefore that the Judge cannot be said to have engaged in gross misconduct, there is in my view no logical or lawful basis (moral even) for not following that line of evidence through the complainant.

What’s more, on the scales of evidence, evidence that is damaging to the case of a witness usually carries more weight when that evidence is given by that witness than when it is given by an opposing witness. So, evidence given by or extracted from the complainant that tends to show that the complainant did not only fail to express her disapproval of the Judge’s sexual overtures but also actively welcomed or encouraged them, would ordinarily carry more weight in the assessment of all evidence than if that same evidence were given by the Judge or his witnesses. Ultimately, it is for the JCT to decide whether such evidence exists, whether it is admissible, and what weight to accord it on a conspectus of all evidence that it has heard and seen.

As regards the manner in which Sikhakhane SC has thus far conducted his questioning of the complainant – barring one incident for which he apologised to the complainant – the JCT panel and Chair do not seem to have witnessed any conduct that could reasonably be said to constitute abuse of, or to “retraumatise”, the complainant. Judge Ngoepe is experienced enough in these matters to have raised such objection of his own accord and need not wait for an objection from the evidence leader or the complainant’s legal representatives.

In short, Dr Ramphele’s characterisation of Adv Sikhakhane SC’s line of questioning the complainant as “appalling” and as being “testimony to the unreconstructed patriarchal attitudes that assume women are playthings that just need to be coerced into acknowledging their enjoyment of being the centre of attention of men” is in my view grossly unfair.

I hope Dr Ramphele does not take it as condescending when I say her criticism seems to flow from what appears to be an inadequate grasp of what question the JCT panel is called upon to decide, and what the role of Counsel for the Judge is in that process.

***

I have known Adv Sikhakhane SC for many years. We have been on opposite sides of a brief; we have worked together on the same side of a brief; and we have served together in leadership structures at the Pan African Bar Association of South Africa (PABASA). From what I have come to know of him in all these capacities, the man simply does not fit Dr Ramphele’s characterisation of “unreconstructed patriarchal attitudes”.

As the inaugural President of PABASA, Sikhakhane SC has been instrumental in placing Black African women front and centre in the Preamble and Objects of PABASA’s Constitution. For example, it was on his insistence that we have it in PABASA’s Constitution that:

Membership and leadership of the Bar must as far as reasonably practicable reflect the demographics of South Africa, having regard to historical prejudices against black and female advocates.
At least 60% of all leadership structures within PABASA must comprise women.

It is also testimony to Sikhakhane SC’s anti-patriarchal attitude and influence that, in the 5 years of PABASA’s operational existence, 2 of the 3 National Chairs that we have had are women. The majority of Chairs in the PABASA constituent branches or chapters around the country are, as far as I’m aware, women. This is not women for women’s sake but also on merit.

It was also on Sikhakhane SC’s nudge that PABASA adopted a policy that at least 60% of our annual pupillage intake at the Pius Langa School of Advocacy must be women. This is intended to swell the number of women advocates and reverse the domination in numbers at the Bar by men.

It is a blessing to us all at PABASA that Sikhakhane SC is for the next 2 years back at the helm as Chair – not because he was keen to get back on the saddle but because many of us did not step forward for election.

***

As regards Dr Ramphele’s “appeal” to the Chair of the JCT panel “to not be a passive bystander in the face of the violation of [the complainant]… [and] to protect and preserve the human dignity of [the complainant]”, Dr Ramphele needs reminding that section 10 of the Constitution guarantees the human dignity of “everyone”, not just the complainant in a gross misconduct complaint against a Judge involving alleged sexual harassment. The section reads: “Everyone has inherent dignity and the right to have their dignity respected and protected”. Therefore, the Judge facing a gross misconduct complaint for allegedly engaging in lewd conduct towards a younger woman is also deserving of his human dignity being respected and protected.

Justice Ngoepe has been a Judge for many years, has sat through hundreds of trials in that capacity and has, even after retirement, presided in many tribunal sittings. His experience in running inquiries of this kind is not open to any doubt. For that reason, perhaps Dr Ramphele should be slow to presume to lecture him on how to conduct a hearing. The gender-based pressure that her “appeal” brings to bear on the presiding Judge is inappropriate, even though Judge Ngoepe is experienced enough to know how to deal with it.

While it is understandable – given the notoriety that South Africa seems to have on matters involving gender-based violence – that sentiment would often favour the complainant in cases such as this, this is precisely the factor that calls for caution in a presiding Judge’s handling of the inquiry. Judge Ngoepe and his panel are called upon to adjudicate on a complaint of gross misconduct, not to be partisan towards one of the parties before them.

Perhaps Dr Ramphele is not aware that showing any sign of partisanship, or protectionism towards the complainant when there is no cause for it, could result in a finding of the JCT being successfully reviewed and set aside in the high court. Then, the very “appeal” that Dr Ramphele makes to the JCT Chair will – if heeded – have had an effect quite opposite to that for which she seems to yearn.

I think we would all do well to allow the JCT to conduct this inquiry to finality without putting inappropriate pressure on it to do things in a manner that appeals to our own sensibilities. Expecting the JCT to adopt an assessment of the complaint on the basis of: “If you believe the complainant, you will convict; if you believe the Judge against whom she has complained, you will believe anything” – as Dr Ramphele seems to wish for – is not quite consistent with what one would expect of a proper operation and application of the rule of law in a constitutional democracy – regardless of power dynamics.

We should not pre-judge the complaint by characterising the process and those appointed to make it work as failing to live up to our own partisan standards. Given space and time to do their work without involving them in a tug-of-war, all involved in the process should do their bit, and the panel should come to a just decision – whichever way it goes.

The human dignity of two South Africans is at stake here. Both deserve respect and protection, without Counsel having to catch stray bullets from an unlicensed firearm – as it were.

The End

***

By AnchoredinLaw|2025-01-23T18:10:33+02:00January 23rd, 2025|Blog, General, News|8 Comments

The Jeremy Gauntlett I Know – A Tribute
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The Jeremy Gauntlett I Know – A Tribute

Blog, General, News

The Jeremy Gauntlett I Know – A Tribute

I have read in the media these past 24 hours about allegations of a distant past involving Jeremy Gauntlett SC KC. I choose to say nothing on the subject but to pay tribute to the Jeremy Gauntlett I know. Of course, you may know a different Gauntlett. Mine is not to erase, or detract from, yours.

There are people on this Earth who cannot be described only by words. Jeremy Gauntlett is one of them.

Nevertheless, with an English vocabulary that is far less adequate than Jeremy’s own vast repertoire, I feel the need to pay a personal tribute to a man who – perhaps unknown to him – has over many years inspired me to strive for excellence in my craft not only as a practitioner at the Bar but also in my intermittent role as an acting judge in the High Court and Labour Court.

I cannot, with a straight face, claim to have achieved that excellence – yet – probably because of what I later came to realise was a premature exit from the proximity and his professional influence that the many briefs through which I laboured as his “raw junior” afforded me.

If memory fails me not, I first encountered Jeremy in the Spring of 1997. (One does not “meet” Jeremy; one “encounters” him. It is no exaggeration to say the man is a phenomenon.) With my vast experience of some 6 months at the Cape Bar, I was imposed on him as his junior by Dumisa Ntsebeza SC in a Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) brief against the National Party of FW de Klerk. Ntsebeza SC was head of the TRC amnesty investigations committee at the time.

It soon came to my attention that Jeremy had allegedly excoriated the instructing attorney for briefing him with “a raw junior”. If indeed he had characterised me as such, he’d be right of course. But in 1997, a strapping lad in his late 20s – and with a Boxer’s temperament to boot – that is not how I saw matters. I was outraged by this label and resolved to confront him.

As I marched to his chambers across Keerom Street, loins firmly girded, it occurred to me to first share my “experience” with a friend, Theko Mabona, a fellow articled clerk at a large firm (by Cape Town standards at the time) some 4 years previously. Theko put things in perspective: “But you ARE raw to him, Ngalwana. The only way to demonstrate that you are not, is by the quality of the work you give him.”

And so it was, that by that auspicious intervention I spared myself the indignity that Jeremy’s legendary quick tongue would no doubt have bestowed on my relatively young self. I must have done as instructed by Theko because I subsequently found myself labouring through more junior briefs for Jeremy, including trips to the Supreme Court of Appeal.

In a word, the Jeremy Gauntlett I know is a man of sharp intellect, a voracious reader of material that matters, surgical advocacy skills, a quick tongue, quick wit, a vast English vocabulary and deft turn of phrase that would disarm even the most intransigent adversary, more self-assuredness than arrogance, mild-mannered and humility-free. And for this last virtue, I don’t fault him. To a man with an intelligence quotient that flirts with the stratosphere, humility is in my view a wasted trait.

He may not be aware of this, but Jeremy is responsible for the advocates’ organisation now named Advocates For Transformation (AFT) bearing that name. The original idea, when we formed the organisation in April 1998, was to name it Democratic Advocates For Transformation (DAFT). In fact, we had done, until Norman Arendse SC, Anwar Albertus SC, Ismail Jamie SC and I went triumphantly to introduce ourselves to Jeremy who I think was chairman of the Cape Bar or played some other senior role in the Cape Bar structures at the time. The man laughed the “D” out of “DAFT”, and so thenceforth we became AFT.

***

That Jeremy, on no less than four occasions, did not get the nod – twice for the Constitutional Court berth and twice for the High Court bench – is in my view more a reflection on the diversity intolerance of the selection panel of that time than on his unsuitability. The suggestion that “humility” and “temperament” are indispensable traits for judicial appointment in South Africa is laughable. I have read judgments over the years by senior judges which would make Jeremy’s “temperament” the stuff of altar boys by comparison. At worst, he wouldn’t be a unicorn on the “temperament” stakes. There are counsel who talk of having endured much abuse at the hands of permanent judges in court for reasons that have less to do with the merits of their case but more to do with the judges’ own inarticulate premise.

The lack of discernment to appoint a man of such sharp intellect and potentially invaluable contribution to South Africa’s constitutional and commercial jurisprudence was a major loss to the country. Jeremy’s appointment – as with the appointment of Judges David Unterhalter and Malcolm Wallis – could very well have encouraged commercial litigants to trust the courts more, and reduce privatisation of commercial litigation in arbitrations, a practice that stunts the development of South Africa’s commercial jurisprudence.

It is an enduring shame that factional Politics – having nothing to do with the desire to effect change for the better in our courts – should block an obvious talent from ascending to the bench and, with that, deprive our commercial and constitutional jurisprudence of the development that it so sorely needs.

***

On transformation of the Bar, the Jeremy Gauntlett I know has made a contribution, but not nearly enough. Again, if memory fails me not, it was during his term as Chairman of the Cape Bar Council that, for the first time in the history of the Cape Bar, there was equal Black representation on the Cape Bar Council (although AFT’s representation was not accepted on a race basis but rather on an “interest group” basis.) This included Jeremy sharing his chairmanship with Anwar Albertus SC who had been nominated by AFT and confirmed by the AGM, not without gusty winds from the right against that proposition. Nominated by AFT, I served on that Council as the Cape Bar’s first ever Black Treasurer.

He twice served on a 2-person committee (with Ishmael Semenya SC) of the General Council of the Bar of South Africa (GCB) charged with exploring challenges that face Black and women advocates at the Bar, and to report back to the GCB with a view to having these addressed. I later became critical of the second time this committee was set up, as the first had not yielded any tangible fruit that I could see. But, at least the thought suggests to me that the man is not entirely numb or apathetic to the plight of others less fortunate than he.

When I was elected Chairman of the GCB in 2016, Jeremy was one of the first colleagues to offer his help when needed, knowing full well what my transformation agenda was at the time.

However, his role in the early years of what culminated in the impeachment of Western Cape High Court Judge President Hlophe is, for me, his purgatory. But, with the benefit of hindsight, the Judge President’s goose was already cooked even if Jeremy had not entered the fray. Those who were determined to have the Judge President removed as a Judge were – as we were later to witness – to stop at nothing to achieve their goal. Ultimately, they did.

He could no doubt also have done more to “blood” Black and women juniors in consequential briefs as he did me. But since I left the Cape Bar for Johannesburg more than 23 years ago and have not kept pace with transformation efforts in that Cape colony since, I have no direct knowledge of how he has since fared on this score.

***

This is the Jeremy Gauntlett I know. A man from whom I learnt a strong work ethic, self-confidence, self-assuredness (although in my case it could well be termed “arrogance”) and who watered in me the seeds of my determination to succeed at the Bar.

Along with Norman Arendse SC, Belinda van der Vyver (my pupil mentor), Jan Heunis SC, Henri Viljoen SC and Willie Burger SC, I probably would not have made the relative success of my practice as I have done without his positive role in my early years of development at the Bar.

Jeremy, you have much to live for and contribute to the profession and beyond still. I personally owe you a word of gratitude and hope you receive it from whence it comes: the bottom of my heart.

The End

***

By AnchoredinLaw|2025-01-19T16:14:01+02:00January 19th, 2025|Blog, General, News|1 Comment

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate
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In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate

Legal Voices

In Conversation with Adv Muzi Sikhakhane SC – The Rebel Advocate

This is the First Segment of Seven.

In the Seven Segments, Sikhakhane SC dives deeper into various key issues that he tackles in his book, Odyssey of Liberation: A Memoir of a Rebel Advocate.

In this First Segment Sikhakhane SC covers the following issues:

What informed the writing of his book, Odyssey of Liberation: A Memoir of a Rebel Advocate
The difference between Justice and the Law
The target reader of this book
The meaning of a “Constitutional Democracy” and why South Africans need to reconsider its efficacy for South African conditions and rather adopt “Democratic Constitutionalism”: Are decisions taken in your name safer in the hands of the political representatives you elected, or in the hands of an unelected Judiciary?

Note: The audio quality in this video may not be perfect. We are working on fixing the problem. Thank you for your understanding!

By AnchoredinLaw|2025-01-19T18:10:16+02:00January 19th, 2025|Legal Voices|1 Comment

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