On September 28, 2016, lawyers John Matovu and Bob Kasango had a fiery exchange over stolen monies at the Anti-Corruption court in Kampala.
The Observer reported Matovu telling court that having successfully represented the 6,339 pensioners in 2011 where he got a court order directing government to pay them; he got Shs 4.6bn as legal fees. However, despite talking to all concerned, government remained cold on his money. The reason was that he “was perceived to be FDC or opposition.”
Matovu told court that within the legal circles, he was advised to seek the aid of lawyer Kasango because he is claimed to be “well-connected and he could get us the money within a matter of time.”
Once contacted, Kasango agreed to the deal and, indeed, got the money in record time. But after months, Matovu only received a small part of it. Then one day, to his bewilderment, Matovu learnt from a local daily that his middleman, acting on his behalf, actually received Shs 17bn instead of Shs 4.6bn.
My interest is not in that part where Kasango is alleged to have inflated the money and worked with some quick hands to get it cashed. Neither am I interested in the bit where Matovu alleges not to have received his entire package despite Kasango retrieving more than his due.
Instead, I am interested in what this entire standoff reveals about our justice system. I am interested in how some lawyers are more lawyers than others. That Matovu is a former president of the Uganda Law Society and also successfully represented the pensioners is a statement of his lawyerly worth. But that he could not get government to pay him his legal fees without the aid of a ‘well-connected’ middleman is baffling.
In other words, justice in Uganda starts and ends in one’s political affiliation. Justice being the private industry that trades exclusively with the state, we can extend and argue that for any lawyer to profit from this business, they have (or at least, be perceived) to be friendly/connected with government.
During the Amama Mbabazi petition of the February presidential election outcome, Red Pepper and The Observer got interested in a rather trivial but insightful item, the vehicles of the lawyers representing the different sides.
In these two separate stories, reporters were generous with images and showed NRM lawyers – supposedly the well-connected –with the swankiest machines in the parking lots: SUVs, Range Rovers, Jeeps, and Mercedes Benzes, all with newer registration plates. On the other hand, Mbabazi’s team would be pictured emerging from their second- or third-hand Toyotas: Ipsums, Noahs, and Premios.
Well, vehicles have often been a statement of one’s income and general wellbeing. On this card, Team Museveni trumped Team Mbabazi hands down. It, therefore, follows that not only is justice a function of power and politics, but so is profiting from the judicial industry.
Successful law firms are known to make their monies drawing contracts, advising and representing big businesses and organisations. These include government, non-government and private businesses, which often enlist them onto their payrolls.
Any investor would seek the smartest lawyers to represent their business interests. So, Tullow Oil, Barclays bank, the American embassy, United Nations, NSSF, Umeme, etc, hire lawyers assumed to have the best brains in the industry. Against the background that profiting in any business is, to a good degree, a function of power and politics, no investor/diplomat would risk working with power-unfriendly counsels.
Working with State House (with other appendages such as Uganda Investment Authority, Uganda Revenue Authority, Bank of Uganda, etc), investors quickly learn the regime-unfriendly counsels to avoid. Surely, State House must have lists of counsels to recommend to the president’s investors, diplomats and government bodies. Yes, judging from their automobiles, these make the most profitable firms in the business. Certainly, they do not have the smartest nor the most hardworking lawyers.
Ironically, counsels, like government spokespeople, are fond of chanting generic slogans such as justice, fairness and professionalism while talking about their industry – as if they were independent of political power-mongering. Aggrieved, we are often advised to run to these so-called ‘learned friends’.
The next time you hear anyone tell you this nonsense, ask them to visit hell. Exactly, having the president’s lousiest address is a thousand times better than hiring the smartest of all Kampala lawyers.
The author is a PhD fellow at the Makerere Institute of Social Research.