Information is essential for the functioning of modern societies. Access to information denotes the right of citizens to obtain information regarding how they are governed. In 2011, Nigeria enacted the Freedom of Information Act, to ensure openness and transparency in public governance. This article evaluates the extent to which the legislation has strengthened the right of access to information in Nigeria. Through analysis of the provisions of the act and some decided cases, the article argues that challenges, both in the act's provisions and in its enforcement by the courts, have resulted in a “blunted” law that lacks the capacity to satisfy the people's expectations on the right of access to public information. Drawing on the experience of other jurisdictions where similar laws are operative (notably South Africa and India), the article suggests ways through which the implementation of the act could be made more effective.

In 2019, the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights adopted General Comment No 5 on the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights: The Right to Freedom of Movement and Residence (Article 12(1)). In this general comment, the commission elaborated on the right to freedom of movement and residence within state borders. This issue, while explicit in international human rights law, is a challenge within various jurisdictions, including in Africa. This article provides a background to and commentary on General Comment No 5, leveraging on the insight of the authors, who participated in its drafting. Unlike the UN Human Rights Committee's earlier general comment, General Comment No 5 provides detailed guidance on the internal dimension of the right to free movement and residence. As “soft law”, its persuasive force depends on a number of factors, including its use at the domestic level, its visibility and its integration into regional human rights jurisprudence.

Evidentiary rules applicable to rape and other sexual offence cases, inherited from nineteenth-century England and based on Victorian notions of women's behaviour, are alive and well in twentieth-century southern Africa. These are the cautionary rules which require a trial judge to warn him or herself of the danger of convicting a rape accused without corroboration, or independent evidence supporting the testimony of the complainant. These rules are applied because the evidence of the complainant in a sexual case is considered to be “suspect”: she is variously said to be prone to lie for reasons of her own, prone to fantasy, and prone to exaggerate. Although the cautionary rule of corroboration is still applied in many countries, most progressive and feminist thinkers consider them to be “a lingering insult to women”. In this article I will canvass the cautionary rules on evidence in sexual cases in southern Africa and attempt to show that they are not only based on outmoded stereotypes, but are also particularly unsuitable to southern Africa.

This article highlights that section 76(4)(a) of South Africa's Companies Act, which reflects the business judgment rule (BJR) concept, is a standard of review, providing a means of determining whether a director has met his or her undertakings under section 76(3). The article suggests that section 76 should be titled “Standards of conduct and review” instead of referring only to standards of conduct. It draws a clear distinction between standards of conduct (including the personal financial interests disclosure requirements) on one hand, and a standard of review on the other. After tracing the traditional international requirements of BJR, the article analyses the decision-making requirements under section 76(4)(a). It concludes that, while section 76(4)(a) compares favourably with US and Australian laws, the omission of a good faith requirement is unfortunate since that is a critical component of decision-making. The article proposes that good faith and proper purpose under section 76(3)(a) should form part of the section 76(4)(a) requirements.

At the National Consultative Forum on Transforming the Administration of Justice System in Nigeria, convened by the Federal Minister of Justice and the Federal Attorney-General in November 2001, it was decided to draft a National Action Plan on Justice Sector Reform in Nigeria and to produce a Justice Vision document. The Ministry of Justice and the Attorney-General's office identified the need to examine ways of (a) upholding the Constitution and the rule of law; (b) promoting justice, fairness and human dignity; and (c) incorporating and expanding community participation in the administration of justice. The Legal Aid Council of Nigeria could contribute to this process by establishing a public defender network using law graduates in the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC). It may be possible to use the NYSC scheme to expand dramatically the current level of legal aid in Nigeria by employing the services of NYSC law graduates more extensively as public defenders. In order to consider the feasibility of such a programme the following factors will be considered: (i) the availability of lawyers and law graduates; (ii) the duties imposed by the Nigerian Constitution; (iii) the function of the Legal Aid Council; (iv) the operation of the Legal Aid Council; (v) the provision of legal aid services by the Legal Aid Council; and (vi) the cost of establishing a structured NYSC public defender programme.

My approach in introducing the discussion must be that of the “necessary hostility” of the practitioner who sees the client privately and tries to raise the real difficulties so that these are tackled constructively before the opposition is let loose on the client. Thus the tactic is that of constructive criticism, asking the tough questions. It is well known that multinationals and other interested parties are well served by international lawyers who will not neglect the tough technical problems.

No doubt methodology can be over-emphasised. It is clear that many lawyers have long and successful careers probably without once stopping to worry about methodology. In contrast are the linguistic philosophers who are rather like the gardener who spends his entire career in the tool shed and seed store but never gets out and grows any vegetables. Whilst the problems can be exaggerated, nonetheless there are problems and in a sense I want to raise questions without having firm views about the answers. I think this is exactly the forum in which we can exchange our views and impressions.

In my opinion the New International Economic Order presents problems of sources of a magnitude which is greater than the problems which have to be faced even when one is dealing with relatively old established parts of customary international law. In the first place we look at the nature of the sources. There is an incredible variety of sources, using the term “sources” in a rather question-begging way.

This article examines how the South African government, realizing the country's vulnerability to climate change, deemed it necessary to strengthen adaptation and mitigation measures and put in place legal and institutional frameworks to ensure implementation and compliance. Government must take responsibility for industry's inaction by implementing policies on climate change and, more importantly, through a visible change in government policy to hold industry accountable. The stringent policies and strategies being put in place are reducing vulnerability and also enhancing a broad spectrum of capacity in responding to environmental, climatic, resource and economic perturbations. The article further reviews state of the art methods and tools available to strengthen mitigation and adaptation strategies and measures in the areas of the existing frameworks regarding climate change. It also considers various measures by Eskom in particular, and strategies embarked upon by South Africa's national and local governments to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.

In February, 1981, the Customary Law and Primary Courts Bill was “celebrated” into law by the Parliament of Zimbabwe. It was swept into being with the reforming fervour which the new government brought to an independent Zimbabwe. The debating chambers, and loudspeakers at country-wide mass rallies, echoed with condemnations of the previous customary court structures and with the promise of popular justice and people's courts. Whether the legislation was “revolutionary” is arguable, but the atmosphere of its birth is an important indicator of its nature—a people's government was providing for a people's law. This article is mainly concerned with the changes in court structure and jurisdiction brought about by the Customary Law and Primary Courts Act. However, some observations on the early life of the primary courts, and on other matters of law reform in Zimbabwe, are necessary in order to breathe life into the legislative discussion. Many of these observations are personal—gleaned from field research into the primary courts in Zimbabwe between April, 1982, and February, 1983.

One of the central facts, if not the most important of all, about the general legal systems of African countries is that they are derived wholly or partly from the legal systems of foreign countries, usually those of the former colonial power, though this is by no means the only source which has been drawn upon. Thus in Commonwealth Africa there has been extensive borrowing not only from the law of England, but from British India, from the provinces of South Africa, and to a less extent from other common-law jurisdictions, such as Queensland, New Zealand and Canada. This wholesale adoption of extraneous laws, sometimes unadapted, sometimes modified, immediately raises the fundamental question of the authority, if any, of judicial decisions in the donor country for the purpose of elucidating or determining the applicable law in the receiving country. There has been considerable discussion on this point, largely initiated by the writings of Elias and myself;1 and in the recent past the theme has been taken up by a number of other writers, especially those concerned with Nigerian and Ghanaian law.2

The origin of the initial African constitutions is easy to establish. While the former British territories “received” their Westminster-type constitutions negotiated during the Lancaster House conferences, the former French territories, except Guinea, became independent under constitutions drawing heavily upon the constitution of the Fifth French Republic, of which they were virtual copies. Among the countries formerly under Belgian rule, the Congo (Zaïre) was the only one attaining independence with a constitution, the Loi fondamentale of 1960 which was an Act of the Belgian Parliament.

Therefore, initially the degree of homogeneity was fairly large; there were basically three types of constitutions and the deviation from these models was limited. Admittedly subject to adaptations all the Westminster constitutions were similar, and in fact to some extent they still are; thus in its essential features the 1980 constitution of Zimbabwe draws from the same stock as its predecessors of the early 1960s. The first constitutions of the former French territories were, likewise, very similar, inspired as they were by the French constitution of 1958. The Loi fondamentale of the Congo was strongly influenced by the Belgian constitution, and so was the autochthonous constitution of Burundi which was promulgated a few months after independence in 1962.

Many constitutions have since succeeded these initial texts: between 1960 and 1985 there have been 43 constitutions in the 18 French-speaking countries under consideration, i.e. an average of 2·4 constitutions per country. This flow has led to a considerable diversification of constitutional types.

South Africa is often characterized as a highly religious country since many South Africans consider their religious beliefs to be central to their lives. Although religion is widely believed to be a “non-issue”, these strong religious identifications might, however, play a role in the apparent ethnic resurgence. Consequently, the religious diversity of South Africa should be appropriately accommodated in the post-apartheid regime so as to prevent religion-based conflict.

The customary oath is woven into the fabric of African traditional life. Owing, however, to the world-wide publicity which was generated by the Mau Mau emergency in the nineteen-fifties, and the more recent publicity following allegations of oathing after the assassination of the late T. J. Mboya in Nairobi in July, 1969, oathing and Kenya have become closely associated in the public mind. The present state of the law with regard to oaths and oathing in Kenya is not entirely satisfactory, and in certain instances it must be stated that the law appears to be honoured more in the breach than in the observance.

“The land is family land—he may not sell it”; “the land is our family land—it does not belong to the chiefs”. How often such statements are heard in West African courts and how difficult it is to distinguish the rights claimed by the individual, the family and the community. To resolve this difficulty is the task which Dr. G. B. A. Coker has set himself in his recently published book Family Property among the Yorubas.2 In this contribution to the rapidly growing number of books on African law the author writes of a single people—the Yoruba of Western Nigeria, and of a single topic—family property; this is no light task, for the study of the concept of family property is the study of the social and political structure of the people as expressed in their land tenure.

Though there has been intensive legislation in the countries of “black” Africa formerly ruled by France, there have been very few reforms affecting personal status. Despite the necessity for replacing traditional customs with a modern law, in view of the imperatives of social and economic development, the legislator ventures only with difficulty to overthrow the preexisting institutions in this field. Hence the importance attaching to the reforms introduced in the Ivory Coast on October 7, 1964, of which the most important is that dealing with marriage, which is the main plank in the family system. The major innovation of the new law is to put an end to the lineage structure of Ivory Coast society; henceforth the conjugal family based on marriage is the new social group recognized and protected by law.

This article describes the politics related to the criminalization of torture in South Africa. It studies the differences between torture as an international crime and as a crime under international human rights law. The South African anti-torture law is analysed and critiqued against the standards and provisions set out in the United Nations Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment. The article recommends amendments to the South African law, aimed at making the combating of torture more effective.

The adoption by some peoples in Africa of the indigenous rights concept has brought about new challenges regarding the application of the concept to these peoples. The indigenous rights concept was shaped by the colonial experiences of indigenous peoples in the Americas and Australasia. The international understanding of the concept pre-supposes the existence of a set of group rights belonging to peoples who are descendants of the earlier inhabitants of the territory on which a state is located, in contrast to other citizens of that state who are considered colonial settlers. The African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights has attempted to overcome this challenge by evolving a description of indigenousness for Africa. This article argues that, although the conceptual challenges that flow from the foreign origin of the concept have not been fully overcome, the African Commission's description has successfully located Africa within the global indigenous rights framework.

Section 66 of the 1963 Kenyan Constitution established the Kadhi's courts with the jurisdiction to determine “questions of Muslim law relating to personal status, marriage, divorce or inheritance in proceedings in which all the parties profess the Muslim religion”. 26 Christians petitioned the High Court and argued that section 66 was unconstitutional because it, inter alia, violated the principle of separation of Church and state. The court found in their favour and held that Kenya is a secular state, that section 66 violated the doctrine of separation of state and Church, and that it was discriminatory and contrary to section 82 of the constitution which prohibits discrimination. This note gives the facts of the case, the issues before the court and the court's decision. It also analyses the court's decision.