South Africa Exhibits the Pitfalls of Private Prosecutions for Corruption

In March 2018, after several years of investigation stemming from allegations of corruption and mismanagement, South Africa’s National Prosecuting Authority (NPA) announced that it would not pursue charges against former South African Revenue Service Commissioner Tom Moyane. But this was decision short lived. A few weeks later, the NPA abruptly reversed course, explaining that it had reopened its investigation into Moyane and was reconsidering its decision not to prosecute. In the interim, the South African civil rights group Corruption Watch had publicly requested from the NPA a certificate of nolle prosequi—a document formally affirming the NPA’s decision not to prosecute. Obtaining such a certificate was a preliminary and necessary legal step for Corruption Watch to launch its own private prosecution of Moyane—which, under South African Law, Corruption Watch would have been able to do if the NPA formally declined to prosecute. Corruption Watch was calling NPA’s bluff, saying, in effect, “prosecute Moyane or else we will.”

Corruption Watch’s implicit threat stems from Section 7 of South Africa’s Criminal Procedure Act (CPA), which permits a citizen to criminally prosecute another person or entity if the NPA formally declines to prosecute. These prosecutions are similar to civil suits but with all the trial rights and potential penalties associated with a state prosecution. Moreover, at any time during a private prosecution the NPA may request permission from the supervising court to step back in and take over the case. South Africa is not unique in this regard: There are provisions for private prosecutions in other countries—especially Commonwealth countries—including the UK, Canada, Australia, Zimbabwe, and Kenya, as well as in China and Israel.

Many commentators in the international community have been optimistic about the potential of private prosecutions, particularly in combating corruption (see here, here, and on this blog here). And forces inside South Africa have been especially enthusiastic; in 2017, the South African civil society organization AfriForum launched its own dedicated private prosecutions unit focused on prosecuting corrupt government officials, with other organizations expressing similar interest. Much of this optimism stems from sheer frustration with the current prosecution regime in South Africa, a country that has long been plagued by selective prosecution, especially in the area of corruption.

South Africa could certainly use more pressure on the NPA to act; the country would also benefit from more resources, whatever the source, devoted to investigating and prosecuting corruption cases. And the fact that the threat of private prosecution appears to have spurred the NPA to action in the Moyane case is encouraging. Nevertheless, South Africa’s recent flirtation with private prosecutions actually illustrates why countries—including and perhaps especially South Africa—should be cautious about embracing organized, comprehensive private prosecution regimes to supplement traditional state prosecution. Continue reading

“Instead of Europeanizing Kosovo, We Have Balkanized EULEX”: The Need for Continued Localization in the EU’s Largest Mission

The European Union Rule of Law Mission in Kosovo (EULEX)—the EU’s largest, costliest, and most ambitious mission—has operated in Kosovo for almost a decade with the goal of assisting the country’s judicial authorities and law enforcement agencies in tackling organized crime, corruption, and other threats to the country’s stability. To date, the 800-person mission—which consists of police officers, prosecutors, judges, and has its own power of arrest and prosecution—has resulted in over 40,000 court judgments and the investigation of over 400 war crimes. Yet allegations of corruption have dogged the project. Three years ago, Maria Bamieh was dismissed from her position as a EULEX prosecutor when she alleged corruption within the Mission, including a €300,000 bribe accepted by a EULEX judge. While a subsequent investigation and report by Professor Jean-Paul Jacqué (on behalf of the EU) dismissed Ms. Bamieh’s specific allegations, the report recommended that EULEX be reformed to better deal with corruption—a problem that, the report noted, remained “omnipresent in Kosovo.” Allegations of corruption were re-ignited in late 2017, when EULEX’s Chief Judge, Malcolm Simmons, resigned after alleging “several cases of corruption at the heart of the mission.” The accusations and counter-accusations between Judge Simmons and EULEX are complicated, and it is not my objective here to try to evaluate their credibility. In brief, Judge Simmons’ most serious allegation is that senior EULEX officials pressured him to convict Deputy Prime Minister (and former Kosovo Liberation Army commander) Fatmir Limaj, in order to prevent Mr. Limaj from taking part in the Kosovan election. (Judge Simmons also leveled other accusations, including an improper romantic relationship between a judge and a Kosovan jurist, and that a fellow judge had hacked his email.) The Mission swiftly responded that Judge Simmons himself was “the subject of a series of independent investigations into serious allegations against him,” with an EU official acknowledging that Judge Simmons is subject to five investigations and “allegations that Simmons interfered in some of the most important verdicts” in recent years. While it remains to be seen which allegations (if any) are true, the situation appears to be lose-lose for the EULEX mission.

The current EULEX mandate expires on June 14, 2018. The controversy swirling around Judge Simmons’ resignation, coupled with the upcoming discussions as to whether to renew EULEX’s mandate, provides a timely opportunity to reassess a flaw that has plagued EULEX since its inception: an actual and perceived lack of trust and accountability between the mission and local Kosovan judicial and law enforcement authorities. If EULEX’s mandate is renewed this year, steps should be taken to address this problem.

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When Should Countries Outsource Key Anticorruption Functions to Foreigners?

Partly because of previous work I’ve done (with Sofie Schütte of the U4 Centre) on specialized anticorruption courts, I recently had the opportunity to participate in some interesting discussions in Kiev about ongoing debates about the possible the creation of such a court for Ukraine. There’s much to say on this topic generally, but what most and surprised me about the discussions I was fortunate enough to attend was how much they focused on a specific proposal—advanced by certain influential members of the Ukrainian civil society community—for the international donor community to participate (indirectly but formally) in the selection of the judges to serve on this court. There are a few different proposals floating around, but I’ll focus on the version embraced by a draft law currently pending in the Ukrainian Parliament. Under this proposal, judges on the special anticorruption court would be chosen by a nine-member Judicial Selection Committee. Of these nine members, three would be appointed by the President, three would be appointed by the Parliament, and three would be selected by the international donor community. (Formally, the last three would be appointed by the Minister of Justice, but that’s a formality: According to the proposal, the Minister of Justice would be obligated to consult with the international donor community and to appoint the three individuals that they recommend.)

For some in the civil society community, this feature of the proposal is absolutely essential, and they fear that without a formal role for the international community in the judicial selection process, the anticorruption court will be a failure. Others feel equally passionately that formalizing a role for international donors in the selection of special court judges is deeply misguided, and will jeopardize (both politically and legally) the special court experiment. I don’t know nearly enough about Ukraine’s specific situation to have an informed view on this one way or the other. But the proposal seemed sufficiently novel and interesting to be worth contemplating more generally. After all, though to the best of my knowledge there’s no precedent for what the draft Ukrainian law proposes, it’s not unheard of for countries to “outsource” (for lack of a better term) aspects of the law enforcement apparatus that most countries most of the time would consider core functions of the state, particularly in the context of anticorruption or closely related matters. (Probably the best known example is CICIG in Guatemala, in which a UN-sponsored body, headed by a non-citizen, has substantial investigative—though not prosecutorial or adjudicative—powers.) Is this an approach that more countries should adopt—for their investigators, prosecutors, or even their courts?

Again, I don’t have a terribly strong or well-informed view on this question, so this isn’t one of those posts where I’m going to take an aggressive, argumentative stand. I’m still thinking this through myself. But I figured that since this question might be of interest to others as well, I’ll offer a few thoughts on the possible advantages and disadvantages of outsourcing some or all of a state’s core law enforcement functions. I’ll think about this mainly in the context of anticorruption, though many of the arguments would apply more generally.

Long story short: I can think of two big potential advantages for this sort of outsourcing, and four countervailing drawbacks. Continue reading