April 2004

A black day for justice


    

 

 

At the top of page 6 in the Straits Times of 16 April, was a colour picture of President Nathan shaking the hand of Chief Justice Yong Pung How.

The caption read:

CJ Yong sworn in for two more years

Chief Justice Yong Pung How, 77, was sworn in as Chief Justice of Singapore by President S R Nathan yesterday at the Istana, witnessed by Prime Minister Goh Chok Tong.

CJ Yong, who has held the post for 14 years, was re-appointed for another two years.

He is concurrently president of the Singapore Academy of Law, president of the Legal Service Commission and chairman of the Presidential Council for Minority Rights.

This was the second time that the Chief Justice got his term of office extended, after he crossed the retirement age.

Effectively, he is now serving at the discretion of the executive, since it is the Prime Minister who decides on re-appointment. Thus it was a black day for justice, not so much because of the man or his judicial decisions, but because his re-appointment perpetuates a flawed system.

In her paper on "Rule of law within a non-liberal 'communitarian' democracy - the Singapore experience" [1], law academic Thio Li-ann wrote:

...concerns about judicial independence exist. One relates to tenure, where judges over 65 are hired as contract judges, explicitly authorised by article 98; for example, the 77-year-old chief justice has a three-year contract until 2004. Extension of judicial terms by contract are not automatic, raising the unsavoury possibility of judges being 'beholden' to the executive. This same concern applies to the Judicial Commissioners (JC) scheme. Inaugurated in 1986, this sought to attract private practitioners to the bench by instituting a probationary 'trial period' of perhaps one to two years. JCs desiring a career judgeship may not act 'without fear or favour'. The scheme also provides short-term judges for six-month periods or more, or to hear specific cases.

The above are some of the many methods the PAP government has used to undermine the separation of powers, until no one today can be confident of complete impartiality.

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As it is, few are aware that the way our judicial system is constituted,

the lower judiciary is susceptible to extraneous political pressures, as subordinate court judges lack tenure and form part of the executive branch. The president appoints subordinate court judges on the recommendation of the chief justice (also the chairman of the Legal Services Commission, which determines appointment terms). Thus, district court judges are routinely shuffled between the executive and judicial branches. Sustaining concerns that they might imbibe the executive's corporatist ideology carrying that into adjudication, as a 'judiciary of amateurs'.

          -- Thio Li-ann, ibid.

The most notable case that gave rise to extensive concern was that of District Judge Michael Khoo in 1981. He heard a criminal case in January 1981 against opposition politician J B Jeyaretnam, and found him guilty. However, on sentencing, Khoo imposed a fine that was below the threshold that would have stripped Jeyaretnam of his parliamentary seat. Many commentators saw that as a moral victory for Jeyaretnam who had just created political history by being the first opposition politician to be elected to Parliament, breaking the PAP monopoly of over 15 years. Equally, they saw the prosecution as an attempt to unseat him by judicial means.

In August 1981, Khoo was removed from the bench and transferred back to the Attorney-General's Chambers.

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A quite different aspect of our judicial process also raises concern. This is the rule of thumb by which defendants who plead guilty get a sentence roughly one-third less than defendants who claim trial, but are later found guilty.

What this does is to reward defendants for not contesting the charges. Presumably the aim is to avoid wasting court time, cutting out frivolous cases and thereby improving efficiency, but along the way, how many worthwhile cases might have been skipped? Cases that might have brought scrutiny to the precision of the charges or to the proper interpretation of the law?

Even by itself, this rule of thumb raises the question of justice. Say, someone is charged for riotous behaviour. If he pleads guilty he gets x months in jail. If he doesn't, and wants the court to examine if his behaviour did or did not constitute rioting, but is found guilty after a trial, he gets y months in jail. The offence was the same. His actions leading to the offence were the same. Why is one punishment more severe? Is demanding a fair hearing an aggravating factor to the crime?

This casino-type bargain penalizes citizens for questioning if the charges are properly framed or if the law is properly applicable. It institutes a bias in favour of accepting bad law and bad prosecution grudgingly.

It certainly suits the executive, but is it in the national interest?

© Yawning Bread 


 

Footnotes

  1. Thio Li-ann's paper was published in Asian discourses of rule of law - theories and implementation of rul of law in 12 Asian countries, france and the US. Randall Peerenboom (ed).
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