By Nathan Kiwere
For many Ugandans, the journey into a courtroom begins long before a magistrate takes the bench or a judge delivers a ruling. It begins at the gate, with a police officer holding a rifle; at the registry desk, with a clerk shuffling files; or in the corridor, with a court orderly barking instructions. These encounters, often brief and seemingly minor, quietly but powerfully shape how the public experiences justice. In fact, for the ordinary citizen, court clerks, police officers, and support staff are the justice system.
The fear many people associate with Uganda’s courts is not always fear of the law itself. More often, it is fear of humiliation, confusion, intimidation, or being treated as a nuisance in a system that feels alien and unforgiving. To humanize justice, we must look closely at the conduct, attitudes, and working conditions of the frontline actors who serve as the face of the judiciary.
The Court as a Hospital: First Impressions Matter
A useful analogy is a public hospital. Most patients never meet the hospital director, but they remember the triage nurse, the receptionist, and the ward attendant. A skilled surgeon cannot redeem a system where patients are shouted at, ignored, or made to feel unworthy of care. In the same way, a brilliant judgment cannot erase the memory of a court clerk who sneered at a litigant, or a police officer who used authority to intimidate rather than guide.
I have met litigants who still remember, years later, how a clerk dismissed them with the phrase, “Genda oyige amateeka”—go and learn the law. For a peasant farmer or a market vendor, this statement confirms their worst fear: that courts are reserved for lawyers, elites, and the educated, not for ordinary people seeking fairness.
Court Clerks: Gatekeepers of Justice
Court clerks occupy one of the most influential yet least acknowledged positions in the justice system. They control files, guide litigants on procedures, and often determine whether a matter moves forward or stalls indefinitely. To a first-time court user, the clerk’s desk is both a gate and a wall.
In practice, many clerks operate under immense pressure—overworked, underpaid, and managing chaotic registries. These conditions partly explain the impatience and indifference that members of the public frequently encounter. However, explanation is not justification. A clerk who understands that a confused litigant is not stupid but simply unfamiliar with legal procedures can transform fear into trust with a few calm words.
In countries where justice systems are admired, clerks are trained not just in procedure, but in public service. They see themselves as facilitators of justice, not owners of it. Uganda’s courts would benefit enormously from embracing this mindset.
Police Officers: From Enforcers to Guides
Police officers stationed at courts play a dual role: ensuring security and maintaining order. Yet, for many citizens, the presence of armed officers reinforces the idea that courts are dangerous spaces where one wrong move can land you in trouble.
I recall a woman who came to court to follow up on a simple land matter. Unsure where to go, she approached a police officer, who responded harshly and ordered her to “stand aside.” She spent hours seated on a bench, too afraid to ask another question. Her case was never called that day, not because the court was unjust, but because fear silenced her.
A police officer who offers directions politely, manages crowds with dignity, and understands that not everyone in court is a criminal plays a crucial role in demystifying justice. Authority exercised with humanity reassures; authority exercised with contempt terrifies.
Support Staff: The Invisible Influencers
Cleaners, messengers, court orderlies, and ushers rarely appear in reform discussions, yet they shape daily court life in profound ways. A support staff who explains when a magistrate is likely to arrive, or who helps an elderly litigant find a seat, can reduce anxiety more effectively than any legal reform.
These staff members are like flight attendants on a turbulent plane. Passengers may not understand the mechanics of flight, but they draw comfort from calm voices and clear instructions. Similarly, court users look for signs that someone is in control and cares enough to communicate.
If Uganda is to cure the public’s fear of its court system, reform must go beyond laws, buildings, and technology. It must reach the human interactions that define everyday experiences of justice. Training in customer care, ethics, and communication should be as essential for court clerks, police officers, and support staff as knowledge of procedure.
Equally important is improving their working conditions. A frustrated, demoralized staff member cannot consistently project patience and empathy. To humanize justice, we must also humanize those who serve it.
Justice Is Experienced, Not Just Delivered
Justice does not live only in law reports and court rulings. It lives in the tone of a clerk’s voice, the posture of a police officer, and the willingness of support staff to help rather than hinder. For the public, these encounters form the emotional memory of the justice system.
If courts are to be seen not as hostile fortresses but as institutions of fairness and dignity, the frontline actors must be empowered to act as ambassadors of justice. When clerks become guides, police officers become protectors in the fullest sense, and support staff become allies, the fear surrounding Uganda’s courts will begin to give way to trust.
Humanizing justice, in the end, is less about changing the law and more about changing how justice is experienced—one human interaction at a time.
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