So a Ugandan lawyer, one of those fellows who make a living by testing the limits of judicial patience, gets charged with treason. And immediately, the London Bar, that venerable institution of powdered wigs and smug moralising, rises as one to tut-tut about 'judicial independence'. One can almost hear the sherry glasses clinking in the Inns of Court as the barristers compose their letters of concern.
Let us be honest: this is the same old script. A former colony does something that offends the sensibilities of the metropolitan elite, and suddenly it is the End of Justice as We Know It. But what is actually happening in Kampala? A lawyer, accused of subverting the state, faces the music. In any functioning legal system, that is called due process. Yet for the British legal establishment, it is an opportunity to perform their favourite role: the white knight of legal rectitude, riding to the rescue of benighted Africans.
Compare this to the Victorian era, when British barristers were busy drafting the laws that facilitated the exploitation of entire continents. They were not then so concerned about judicial independence in Uganda, because Uganda was a source of cotton and coffee, not a stage for legal morality plays. The hypocrisy is so thick you could cut it with a quill.
Of course, one must not dismiss the actual merits of the case. If the Ugandan government is indeed using treason charges to silence dissent, that is a serious matter. But the response from London is predictably histrionic. It mirrors the reaction to any post-colonial state that dares to assert its sovereignty: a chorus of concern from those who have never had their own skin in the game.
The barristers' bodies would do better to examine their own house. Look at the erosion of legal aid, the overburdened courts, the growing perception that British justice is for the wealthy. But that would require introspection, and introspection is less gratifying than scolding a former colony.
In the end, the Kampala kerfuffle is a distraction. It allows the British Bar to feel righteous while ignoring the hollowing out of their own legal traditions. And it allows the Ugandan government to paint its critics as stooges of a former imperial power. Everyone gets a part in the play, except the Ugandan people, who are left with the real mess.
So by all means, let the barristers express their concerns. But spare us the theatrical outrage. It is like a Roman senator lecturing a Gaulish chieftain on civil procedure while the Colosseum bleeds. The world has moved on, gentlemen. Your moral authority died with the Empire.
