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COMMENTARY
The decision by the Uganda Law Society to discourage the continued use of colonial courtroom titles such as "My Lord," "Your Lordship," "My Lady," and "Your Worship" is not merely a change in courtroom etiquette. It is a profound constitutional, historical, and philosophical statement about the kind of justice Uganda should aspire to administer.
For many years, these titles have survived as remnants of Britain's colonial legal tradition. They were imported into Uganda together with the common law system during colonial administration. In England, judges represented the authority of the Crown, and addressing them as "My Lord" or "My Lady" reflected not only respect for the office but also the feudal hierarchy from which the English legal system evolved. Magistrates, particularly in lower courts, were addressed as "Your Worship," a title that equally reflected medieval notions of social rank and authority.
These expressions originated in societies where judges were regarded as extensions of the monarchy. They belonged to an era in which social class determined one's place in society and where courts were institutions of the Crown rather than institutions of the people.
Uganda, however, ceased to be a colony in 1962. The promulgation of the 1995 Constitution marked an even greater constitutional rebirth by declaring that all power belongs to the people and that every public institution derives its authority from them. The judiciary is therefore not a servant of a monarch but a constitutional institution exercising delegated authority on behalf of the Ugandan people.
The Constitution is very clear on the place of the judiciary. Under Article 126 of the Constitution of Uganda, judicial power is derived from the people and shall be exercised in conformity with the law and with the values, norms, and aspirations of the people. This single provision fundamentally changes the philosophical relationship between judges and citizens. Judges are not lords over the people; they are servants of justice acting in the people's name.
The Constitution further guarantees judicial independence under Article 128 of the Constitution of Uganda. That independence protects judges from interference by the Executive, Parliament, private interests, or any other authority. Judicial independence, however, is not judicial superiority. It exists to protect impartial justice, not personal prestige.
Likewise, Article 137 of the Constitution of Uganda grants the Constitutional Court authority to interpret the Constitution whenever questions concerning constitutional interpretation arise. Through constitutional interpretation and judicial review, courts possess one of the most powerful responsibilities within Uganda's constitutional framework. They are expected to invalidate unconstitutional actions, safeguard fundamental rights, and preserve constitutional order.
These enormous constitutional powers are accompanied by equally enormous public expectations.
Unfortunately, many Ugandans increasingly question whether the judiciary has consistently lived up to these expectations.
The country continues to experience substantial case backlogs that delay justice for years. The timeless legal maxim that "justice delayed is justice denied" has become an unfortunate reality for countless litigants. Civil disputes take decades to be determined. Criminal suspects spend prolonged periods on remand awaiting trial. Families continue waiting for inheritance matters long after loved ones have passed away. Businesses collapse while commercial disputes remain unresolved.
Equally troubling are persistent public concerns regarding allegations of judicial corruption, inconsistent decision-making, perceived selective justice, and accusations that influential individuals often receive different treatment from ordinary citizens. While many judicial officers serve with integrity and courage, the conduct of a few has repeatedly damaged public confidence in the institution as a whole.
The judiciary is also constitutionally expected to serve as the guardian of the rule of law whenever constitutional violations occur. Yet critics argue that, in several politically sensitive matters, the courts have appeared hesitant, excessively cautious, or slow to pronounce themselves where constitutional clarity was urgently required. Whether such criticism is always justified is open to debate, but its existence reflects declining public confidence that cannot simply be ignored.
Titles such as "My Lord" and "Your Worship" were originally intended to signify exceptional wisdom, moral authority, impartiality, and unquestionable integrity. Yet titles lose their meaning when public confidence in the institution begins to diminish. Respect cannot permanently survive on ceremonial language while confidence in judicial performance steadily declines.
This is precisely why the initiative advanced by the Uganda Law Society deserves serious consideration. It seeks not to diminish the dignity of judges but to restore the constitutional understanding that judicial authority flows from the people and the Constitution rather than from inherited colonial traditions.
Many democratic jurisdictions have already moved away from such forms of address. Courts increasingly prefer simpler titles such as "Justice," "Judge," or "Honourable Judge," recognising that dignity comes from constitutional office and the faithful discharge of duty rather than aristocratic language inherited from imperial systems.
The movement toward decolonising legal language also reflects broader efforts to align Uganda's legal culture with constitutional democracy. Symbols matter. Language shapes institutional relationships. A courtroom where judges are addressed in language rooted in monarchy while exercising authority under a republican Constitution presents an obvious contradiction.
The Uganda Law Society's proposal therefore speaks not only to language but also to constitutional identity. It asks whether Uganda's justice system should continue borrowing symbols from an empire that no longer governs the country or whether it should cultivate symbols reflecting constitutional sovereignty and democratic accountability.
None of this should be interpreted as a licence to disrespect judicial officers. Courts remain indispensable institutions for protecting liberty, resolving disputes, and maintaining constitutional order. Judicial officers deserve courtesy because of the office they occupy. However, courtesy differs from inherited feudal glorification.
Indeed, genuine judicial honour is earned daily through impartial judgments, fearless constitutional interpretation, the timely delivery of justice, integrity beyond reproach, and the equal treatment of every litigant regardless of wealth, political affiliation, religion, ethnicity, or social standing.
If the judiciary chooses to resist this conversation rather than engage it constructively, it risks deepening the widening gap between itself and the society it serves. Public confidence is the judiciary's greatest source of legitimacy. Without that confidence, constitutional independence alone cannot sustain institutional authority.
The future challenge facing Uganda's judiciary is therefore not whether citizens call judges "My Lord" or simply "Justice." The greater challenge is whether every Ugandan entering a courtroom leaves convinced that justice has been administered fairly, independently, courageously, and without fear or favour.
History teaches that institutions preserve their dignity not through ceremonial titles but through faithful service. Courts that consistently protect constitutional rights need no royal language to command respect. Their judgments become their titles.
As Uganda continues to reform its legal system, this debate should be viewed as an opportunity rather than a confrontation. If embraced wisely, abandoning colonial courtroom titles could become a symbolic beginning towards a judiciary that is more accessible, more accountable, more independent, and more firmly anchored in the aspirations of the people as envisioned by the Constitution.
Ultimately, the highest title any judge can ever possess is not "My Lord" but the enduring confidence of the citizens whose Constitution they are sworn to defend.
About the Writer
Evan Sande Ndahura is a Ugandan political and legal commentator, columnist, poet, and social justice advocate whose writings focus on governance, constitutionalism, democracy, and the political economy of power in Africa. He is widely published on issues of judicial accountability, electoral justice, human rights, and institutional reform, with a particular emphasis on Uganda's political and legal systems. Ndahura writes from a Pan-African critical perspective, interrogating the failures of state institutions and the lived realities of ordinary citizens under entrenched systems of power. He strongly believes that the liberation of Africa will ultimately be achieved through the mighty power of the pen rather than the gun.