Between brilliance and inertia — the dual reality of SA’s legal landscape

For all that South Africa is a madly diverse country, it is also a country of equally stark binary opposites. There is the obvious and sickening gulf between rich and poor, and the stark binaries within our cities. Johannesburg pulses with a relentless energy, yet it is falling apart. This same binary plays out in our justice system.

The company that I direct, Moxii Africa (formerly Media Monitoring Africa), recently intervened in two cases in the Gauteng High Court in Pretoria.

One was an attempted Slapp suit by the University of South Africa against a journalist (University of South Africa v EdNews.Africa and Others). It seems extraordinary that a university would seek to gag a journalist. We intervened as amicus curiae alongside brilliant counsel, appearing before the equally brilliant Judge Colleen Collis, who ran her court with total efficiency and zero patience for unprepared legal teams. Despite a heavy caseload, she managed the matter in a few hours and made the order just days later.

She was matched by Judge Petrus van Niekerk, who presided over our Icasa case. Judge van Niekerk managed our urgent application against Icasa’s election regulations and the subsequent appeal hearing with exemplary commitment to the judiciary and the Constitution. Razor-sharp and on top of every detail, his swift handling didn’t just move the wheels of justice; it restored faith in the system.

Of course, one might argue that we shouldn’t celebrate a court simply for doing what it is supposed to do – why applaud a fish for swimming? To an extent, that is fair. But just like a public servant who goes above and beyond, or a colleague whose mastery of their craft leaves you in awe, these two judges demonstrated what judicial excellence looks like in practice.

On the flipside, we have an ongoing case before the Equality Court. Designed as a faster, less-formal mechanism to hear equality matters, its processes are meant to be accessible – you don’t even need a lawyer to lodge a complaint. When it works, it can be remarkably effective in addressing deeply hurtful issues like racism and ordering meaningful redress (for example, the Chinese Association case). The Equality Court is an innovative and uniquely South African mechanism. 

When it works.

When it doesn’t, it not only undermines the judiciary but risks eroding the very rights to equality and dignity it was created to protect. On 19 July 2023, the South African Human Rights Commission instituted proceedings in the Equality Court (Eastern Cape Division, East London). The case is critical, not only for the equality issues at stake, but for the precedents it could set regarding social media and public discourse. The complaint stemmed from a sign erected by the respondent, Dawood Lagardien, outside his business stating, “LGBTIQ not welcome at La Gardi, save our children”. He is also alleged to have created a WhatsApp group called “Our rights – anti LTBTQ+”. 

Following our admission as amicus in April 2024, the first signs of inertia set in. Delays mounted as additional parties, including the Commission on Gender Equality, sought to intervene. While some delay was inevitable, there was also a palpable lack of urgency. Hearing dates were set, postponed, and postponed again. The matter was partially argued in May 2025, with the majority of parties and legal teams having to travel to the Eastern Cape. The remainder of the matter was finally heard in July 2025, two full years after the original complaint. 

Well over a year has passed since that hearing, and despite polite inquiries from the parties, there is still no sign of a judgment.

Stalled justice

Court delays may be common, fuelled by underresourced courts, overworked judges and too few officials. But in a case like this, a three-year delay actively harms everyone involved. The matter strikes at the heart of basic human dignity and equality, while touching on critical questions about online hate speech and social media accountability. When the story broke, it sparked widespread public debate. While much of it was raw anger, such moments offer crucial opportunities for society to grapple with difficult issues – guidance that a timely judgment could have provided.

When justice stalls, the real-world climate hardens. In February 2025, an openly gay imam, Muhsin Hendricks, was murdered, a tragedy that made international headlines and exposed just how fragile constitutional protections can be in practice. While no one can say whether a court ruling would have prevented his murder, we must ask the uncomfortable question: had this case been decided swiftly and restorative justice principles applied, might the environment in which Hendricks lived and worked have been less hostile?

Furthermore, regardless of one’s views on Lagardien, leaving a respondent with a serious human rights charge hanging over their head for more than three years carries its own brand of unfairness.

This is the dual reality of South Africa’s legal landscape: a system capable of decisive, constitutional brilliance on one day, and paralysing inertia the next. Yet justice cannot be a lottery where protection and accountability depend on which courtroom door you happen to walk through. If our courts are to remain the ultimate guardians of our democracy, swift, responsive and principled justice must become the baseline expectation – not a fortunate exception. DM