By Suleman Chitera
Malawi’s judiciary—constitutionally mandated to serve as the last line of defence for citizens—now finds itself at the centre of mounting public outrage. From controversial bail decisions to protracted trials and allegations of political influence, the courts are increasingly viewed not as neutral arbiters of justice but as battlegrounds where power, privilege, and delay too often prevail.
At the heart of the controversy is a widening credibility gap. Ordinary Malawians complain of a justice system that moves swiftly for the poor and powerless but crawls—or stalls entirely—when influential suspects are involved. High-profile corruption cases drag on for years, punctuated by endless adjournments, technical objections, and judicial transfers that reset proceedings. Meanwhile, suspects with modest means languish in overcrowded prisons on remand for minor offences, often without timely access to legal representation.
Critics argue that this pattern erodes the very principle of equality before the law. The Constitution guarantees a fair and speedy trial, yet in practice, justice appears selective. Legal observers point to a troubling culture of proceduralism over substance, where legal technicalities eclipse the public interest and accountability. The result is a perception—fair or not—that the courtroom has become a refuge for impunity.
The issue of bail has further inflamed tensions. In some cases, courts have denied bail for petty offences while granting it to suspects facing serious allegations, including financial crimes involving millions of kwacha. Such inconsistencies fuel suspicion that social status and political connections weigh heavier than legal merit. Civil society groups warn that bail decisions, when opaque or uneven, undermine public confidence and risk normalising arbitrary justice.
Equally damaging are concerns about judicial independence. While judges are expected to operate free from political pressure, repeated accusations—especially in politically sensitive cases—suggest otherwise. Transfers, recusals, and sudden procedural shifts have raised questions about whether the bench is sufficiently insulated from executive and partisan influence. The judiciary’s silence in the face of these allegations has only deepened mistrust.
Institutionally, the courts are strained. Case backlogs, understaffing, and limited resources are real constraints. Yet many Malawians argue that inefficiency alone cannot explain the pattern of outcomes. They demand transparency: clear reasons for adjournments, strict case management, and public accountability for unexplained delays. Without these reforms, structural weaknesses risk becoming convenient cover for systemic failure.
The implications are profound. When citizens lose faith in the courts, they lose faith in the rule of law itself. Vigilantism, political polarisation, and social unrest thrive where justice is perceived as compromised. Investors hesitate, governance weakens, and democracy suffers.
For Malawi to restore trust, the judiciary must confront these concerns head-on. This means enforcing timelines, standardising bail decisions, publishing detailed rulings, and safeguarding independence through transparent appointments and disciplinary processes. Above all, it requires a renewed commitment to the principle that justice must not only be done but must be seen to be done.
Until then, Malawi’s judiciary will remain on trial in the court of public opinion—where the verdict, increasingly, is one of disappointment and doubt.
