What a village widow can teach us about judges, oil and the dangerous word “treason”

EDITORIAL NOTE: This is a work of public-interest commentary, not legal advice. It is not intended to attack or ridicule the Judiciary, the Chief Justice or any judicial officer, but to contribute, in good faith, to discussion about judicial independence, judicial ethics and public confidence in the administration of justice. The Min Tuke story is fictional.
Min Tuke stood before Hon. Aram and wondered whether she had come to court or to a Ginyi Ginyi Waragi shareholders’ meeting.
She was a widow.
Her late husband’s land was almost all she had left. A wealthy businessman wanted it for his thriving Ginyi Ginyi Waragi enterprise.
The dispute had finally reached Hon. Aram’s court.
But something was strange.
The evening before, Hon. Aram had been seen wearing a Ginyi Ginyi Waragi T-shirt and cap.
On the morning of the hearing, he wore them again.
He was also visibly drunk.
The other members of the court arrived in a Ginyi Ginyi Waragi van.
Nobody needed to ask who had provided the transport.
Before hearing Min Tuke’s case, Hon. Aram delivered a passionate lecture about industrialisation.
Ginyi Ginyi Waragi employed young people.
It supported the community.
It had corporate social responsibility programmes.
It was teaching teenage mothers financial literacy and vocational skills.
Then came the sentence that made Min Tuke sit upright:

“In determining this dispute, this Court will bear in mind the benefits which Ginyi Ginyi Waragi has brought to this community.”
Min Tuke stood.
“How will you hear my case and judge it fairly when you have all been brought here by a Ginyi Ginyi Waragi van—and you are even praising the company that is taking my land?”
Her neighbour, Min Abalo, stood too.
“So this court only praises rich, powerful people?”
Then she asked the question that mattered most:
“How will the other members of this court decide this case when the Chair has praised Ginyi Ginyi Waragi like this?”
And there we shall leave them.
No judgment.
No winner.
No villain.
Just two women staring at a court and wondering whether it is still free.
Min Tuke had the law on her side. But the magistrate was not. And in the village, that was enough.
Now forget Hon. Aram for a moment.
Forget Min Tuke.
Forget Ginyi Ginyi Waragi.
Because the question they have left us with is not really a village question.
It is a constitutional one:
When a court appears aligned with a powerful interest, can the ordinary citizen still have confidence that the court is completely free to decide the case according to law?
On Friday, Daily Monitor reported a statement attributed to Uganda’s Chief Justice, Dr Flavian Zeija, during a three-day Judiciary tour of oil and gas sites in Buliisa and Hoima.
The reported words were striking:
“It would be equivalent to treason for a judicial officer to put an injunction stopping the progress of an oil project because of any dispute.”
The Chief Justice was reported to have urged judicial officers to be an aid to oil development rather than “stepping on it”.
The same report says the Judiciary plans to establish a specialised Environment and Infrastructure Division to deal with disputes involving major national projects. (Monitor)
Now, there is nothing inherently troubling about a Chief Justice visiting an oil project.
There is nothing inherently troubling about the Judiciary understanding the country’s petroleum industry.
There is nothing inherently troubling about wanting commercial disputes resolved efficiently.
Indeed, those are perfectly legitimate institutional concerns.
The problem is the word.
Treason.
Let that word sit for a moment.
Treason is not a synonym for “a bad judicial decision”.
It is not another word for “an inconvenient injunction”.
It is not what we normally call a judge who gets the law wrong.
An injunction is a judicial order.
A judge may grant it.
Another judge may later discharge it.
An appellate court may overturn it.
The judge may ultimately be proved wrong.
That is precisely why constitutional systems have appeals, reviews and other mechanisms for correcting judicial error.
But an injunction is still a court order.
It is a legal response to a legal dispute.
So when a judicial officer hears that stopping an oil project by injunction would be “equivalent to treason”, the question is not whether the Chief Justice supports Uganda’s oil industry.
Of course the Judiciary should understand the national importance of oil.
The question is much narrower:
What does a judge hear when the head of the Judiciary publicly describes a particular judicial outcome as equivalent to treason?
And somewhere in the back of my mind, Min Tuke is standing again.
She is looking at Hon. Aram.
She is looking at his Ginyi Ginyi Waragi T-shirt.
And she is asking:
“If the law tells him to stop the project, will he still feel completely free to stop it?”
That is the uncomfortable question.
Judicial independence is also about appearance
Uganda’s own judicial ethics framework recognises something lawyers sometimes forget when speaking to ordinary citizens.
Judicial independence is not merely an invisible condition inside a judge’s head.
It must inspire public confidence.
The Code of Judicial Conduct recognises independence, impartiality, integrity and propriety, including the appearance of propriety. The Judiciary itself explains that individual judicial independence protects officers from unnecessary influence, pressure, threats and interference, and that justice must not merely be done but seen to be done. (Justice Centres Uganda)
That is why Min Tuke does not need to know constitutional theory.
She does not need to know the Bangalore Principles.
She does not need to understand the phrase apprehension of bias.
She understands the Ginyi Ginyi Waragi van.
She understands the T-shirt.
She understands the praise.
And she understands that the person deciding her case appears unusually comfortable with the person on the other side.
That is what appearance of propriety is about.
Not proving what is inside the judge’s mind.
Protecting the confidence of the person standing before the court.
And then there is Imaniraguha
This is where the institutional question becomes harder to ignore.
In John Imaniraguha v Uganda Revenue Authority, Justice Stephen Mubiru dealt with an episode in which a Deputy Registrar had issued a garnishee order against URA funds and subsequently recalled it after, according to the record, receiving a directive from the then Principal Judge, Dr Flavian Zeija.
A copy of the decision can be found here:
Justice Mubiru set aside the recall and addressed the importance of decisional judicial independence, including freedom from interference within the Judiciary itself. The case has since become an important reference point in discussions about the distinction between judicial administration and interference with adjudication.
The point here is not to relitigate Imaniraguha.
Nor is it to accuse the Chief Justice of improper conduct today.
The point is institutional.
If judges must be protected from improper pressure within the Judiciary, then that protection cannot disappear when the pressure takes the form of a public statement rather than a letter.
And this is why the Chief Justice’s reported use of the word “treason” deserves serious discussion.
Not because judges should be immune from criticism.
They should not.
Not because judges cannot make mistakes.
They can.
But because judges must remain free to make legally correct decisions even when those decisions are politically, economically or administratively inconvenient.
Back to Hon. Aram
Imagine that after Min Tuke’s protest, Hon. Aram rises and says:
“Madam, relax. I am completely impartial.”
Would that settle the matter?
No.
Because judicial independence is not simply a declaration of personal honesty.
It is an institutional condition.
The court must actually be free.
But the litigant must also be able to see that the court is free.
Otherwise, something precious begins to disappear.
Not necessarily the judgment.
Not necessarily the law.
Confidence.
And once confidence disappears, even a perfectly correct judgment may leave the citizen wondering whether the result was decided before the hearing began.
That is why Min Abalo’s question matters just as much as Min Tuke’s:
“How will the other members of this court decide this case when the Chair has praised Ginyi Ginyi Waragi like this?”
She is asking something bigger than whether one judge is corrupt.
She is asking whether the rest of the court remains free.
The oil project deserves the law too
There is another side to this conversation.
Uganda’s oil project is important.
Investment matters.
Jobs matter.
Infrastructure matters.
First Oil matters.
The reported progress is substantial: Daily Monitor says the Tilenga Central Processing Facility had reached 68 percent completion and that EACOP was at 91 percent, with the project still targeting completion before First Oil.
Precisely because the project is so important, however, it deserves something better than judicial deference.
It deserves the law.
If an injunction is legally justified, a judge must be free to grant it.
If it is legally unjustified, the judge should refuse it.
If a lower court gets it wrong, an appellate court should correct it.
That is how a constitutional democracy works.
The answer to delays caused by litigation is not to make judges afraid of granting injunctions.
It is to make courts faster, more competent and better equipped to determine disputes. Interestingly, that appears to be exactly why the Judiciary’s proposed specialised Environment and Infrastructure Division matters. Specialisation is a solution.
Fear is not.
And so we return to Min Tuke
Her case is still unresolved.
Hon. Aram is still sitting there.
The Ginyi Ginyi Waragi van is still parked outside.
The T-shirt is still visible.
And Min Tuke is still asking the same question:
“How will you hear my case and judge it fairly?”
That is ultimately what judicial independence is supposed to answer.
Not: “Will the judge rule for me?”
But: “Will the judge decide freely?”
And there is a profound difference.
A judge does not owe a litigant victory. A judge owes the litigant an independent decision.
Sometimes that decision will favour the poor.
Sometimes it will favour the government.
Sometimes it will favour an oil company.
Sometimes it will stop a national project.
Sometimes it will allow one to continue.
The identity of the winner cannot be determined before the law is applied. Otherwise, why have a court?
And somewhere in our imaginary village, Min Tuke is still standing before Hon. Aram.
Still looking at the Ginyi Ginyi Waragi T-shirt.
Still remembering the van.
Still listening to the praise.
Still wondering whether the person sitting before her is truly free to decide her case.
Now look at the photograph from Tilenga. I have not uploaded it here due to copyright restrictions but the full news story can be accessed here:
Halting strategic oil projects equivalent to treason, CJ Zeija warns judges
The Chief Justice is standing in oilfield protective gear among the people building one of Uganda’s most consequential national projects. The photograph itself proves nothing improper. But the reported words attached to that visit raise a question that the photograph cannot answer:
When the case eventually comes before a judge, will that judge feel completely free to say “stop” if the law requires it?
That is the question.
Not whether the judge loves Uganda.
Not whether the judge supports development.
Not whether the judge understands the importance of oil.
Whether the judge is free.
Because when Min Tuke walks into court, she does not need her judge to be against Ginyi Ginyi Waragi.
She needs her judge to be above Ginyi Ginyi Waragi.
And if one day the law requires the court to stop even the most important project in the country, the judge must be able to say:
“Stop. Let us first determine what the law says.”
That is not treason.
That is a court.
DISCLAIMER AND EDITORIAL NOTE
This article is published for purposes of public education, commentary and discussion. It does not constitute legal advice, and nothing contained in it should be understood as legal advice to any person or as a substitute for obtaining advice from a qualified legal practitioner on the facts of a particular matter.
The views expressed are those of the author and are intended to contribute to, rather than conclude, the public conversation on judicial independence, judicial ethics, institutional accountability and public confidence in the administration of justice.
Nothing in this article is intended to attack, ridicule, insult or undermine the Judiciary of Uganda, the Chief Justice, or any individual judicial officer. The author recognises the constitutional importance of an independent Judiciary and the demanding responsibilities carried by those entrusted with judicial office. The purpose of the commentary is instead to examine, in good faith, how particular public statements, institutional conduct and public perceptions may affect the appearance and perception of judicial independence, and to encourage constructive reflection on how that independence may be strengthened and protected.
Where persons, events or institutions are discussed, the article should be read in its proper context as commentary on matters of public interest and not as an allegation of corruption, bad faith, improper motive or personal misconduct unless expressly stated and supported by the facts cited. Questions raised in the article are questions for public discussion, not findings of fact or determinations of liability.
The story of Min Tuke, Hon. Aram and Ginyi Ginyi Waragi is fictional and is used as a literary device to illustrate broader questions concerning judicial independence, impartiality, institutional influence and public confidence in courts. It should not be understood as a factual account of any particular court, judicial officer, company or dispute.
The author welcomes reasoned disagreement, correction and further discussion. In the end, a strong Judiciary is not threatened by good-faith scrutiny; it is strengthened when citizens are able to discuss its independence openly, respectfully and constructively.
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Enen Ambrose. Advocate
Member, Judiciary Affairs Committee,
Uganda Law Society
& Founder–Enen Legal World
Justice Ignited. Courage Unleashed.
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