By Nathan Kiwere
Technology, by its nature, is neutral. Like a knife, it can be used to prepare a meal or to cause harm. In the context of justice, digitization can either entrench existing inequalities behind sleek digital interfaces or dismantle long-standing barriers that have alienated the public from the courts. Whether e-courts humanize justice depends not only on the tools deployed but on the philosophy that guides their use.
One of the most dehumanizing aspects of Uganda’s court system has historically been delay. Justice delayed, as the saying goes, is justice denied, but it is also justice dehumanized. A litigant who spends years tracking a case file that goes missing, is adjourned repeatedly, or is transferred from one registry to another experiences the justice system not as a protector but as a source of suffering. The introduction of electronic case management systems promises to address this problem by reducing reliance on physical files, improving tracking, and enhancing accountability. When a case can be followed online, with clear timelines and visible actions taken by judicial officers, the litigant regains a sense of dignity. It is similar to tracking a mobile money transaction: once you receive confirmation, anxiety gives way to assurance. Transparency, in this sense, becomes a form of empathy.
E-courts also have the potential to soften the intimidating physicality of courtrooms. For many Ugandans—especially the poor, the elderly, and persons with disabilities—the journey to court is itself a barrier. Transport costs, long queues, and the fear of getting lost in procedural complexity discourage engagement with the justice system. Virtual hearings, electronic filing, and SMS notifications can reduce unnecessary physical appearances and allow citizens to interact with the courts from familiar environments. Just as telemedicine has allowed patients in remote areas to consult doctors without travelling long distances, e-courts can bring justice closer to the people it is meant to serve.
However, technology alone does not guarantee transparency or fairness. A digital system can be as opaque as a manual one if it is poorly designed or selectively applied. There is a real risk that e-justice could become a privilege for the digitally literate, leaving behind those without smartphones, internet access, or basic digital skills. In Uganda, where the digital divide still mirrors economic and educational inequalities, this concern cannot be ignored. Humanizing justice through technology therefore requires intentional inclusion—user-friendly platforms, public legal education, and support desks that assist court users rather than intimidate them.
Real-world experience teaches us that transparency changes behaviour. On roads monitored by traffic cameras, drivers are more likely to obey speed limits. In offices with clear performance dashboards, staff are more accountable. Similarly, when judicial processes are digitized and open to scrutiny, opportunities for corruption and arbitrariness are reduced. An electronic cause list that is publicly accessible limits the possibility of cases being “fixed” quietly. Digital audit trails make it harder for files to disappear without explanation. For the ordinary citizen, this visibility restores faith that the system, though imperfect, is not deliberately stacked against them.
Yet justice is not only about efficiency; it is also about human connection. A litigant wants to feel heard, respected, and understood. There is a danger that excessive reliance on screens, forms, and automated responses could strip justice of its human face. A judge who looks at a screen but never at the person before them, or a system that responds only with automated messages, risks replacing one form of alienation with another. The challenge, therefore, is balance. Technology should handle what machines do best—speed, storage, consistency—while freeing judicial officers to do what humans do best: exercise judgment, empathy, and moral reasoning.
Digitization can humanize justice if it is framed as a tool for service rather than control. When court users receive timely updates instead of endless silence, when procedures are explained in plain language through digital platforms, and when access to justice is expanded rather than restricted, fear begins to recede. The court transforms from a feared fortress into a public service institution.
In the end, the question is not whether e-courts will replace human judges or clerks, but whether they will restore the humanity that bureaucracy and delay have eroded. Technology cannot cure all the ailments of Uganda’s justice system, but it can create the conditions for trust, transparency, and dignity. If implemented with empathy and inclusiveness, digitization may well be the bridge between a feared court system and a justice system the public can believe in.
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