In the Case of SAMSON v. THE FOOTBALL FEDERATION (A Sneak Preview)

(DISCLAIMER: The following article is entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead and other similarities to real-life circumstances are purely accidental and the author offers his sincere regrets)

We got in touch with the Mr. Samson’s legal team and they let us in on their proposed arguments. We are overawed by the pure genius and cannot help reproducing them here for our readers:

Your Lordship, for no ascertainable reason, the defendant (hereinafter “the Football Federation”) has always given our client a raw deal despite the fact that he always maintained a quiet and harmlessly brooding mien, and stayed free of controversy. If you recall my Lord, in his days as a player, they gave him the Number 13 jersey despite strong historical evidence that the number bodes ill-luck.  All pleas by our client bounced off their obdurate ears, and my Lord, we all recall the consequences only too vividly. Our client missed that crucial penalty in the semi-finals against Cote d’Ivoire at Tunisia ‘94 and almost gave the nation a collective thrombosis before the game suddenly turned around on its head.  

Yet, our client’s insistence on a Jersey change was scorned as superstition and there was even talk of dropping him from the team until that second game in the USA 94 World Cup against Argentina. My Lord no doubt joined the euphoric crowd of Nigerians to celebrate our client’s excellent strike.  Yes, we eventually lost to suspect officiating, but we joined the golden ranks of underdogs who scored against the Diego-era of Argentina. Why? Because our client had persevered and obtained a jersey change! (He wore the Number 12 at the competition!) We are constrained to add here that a certain Mr. Ezeugo who inherited the number 13 got involved in a career threatening car crash shortly after the Mundials. Enough said.

Thankfully, our client continued to enjoy blistering form in his meritorious sojourn in France and was deservedly due to retire to quiet enjoyment of well earned splendor. But no, the Football Federation sought him out again. We, his legal team expressed reservations at that initial offer because the Federation has a long history of turning brilliant men to piteous wreckages. But our client humbly accepted to do service to the Fatherland. But our hunch was proved right. The defendants wielded another raw deal in that offer. 

Now, everybody knows that our nation is jinxed in the Under 20 FIFA Championship. We have been so destined since the climax of the Damman Miracle, and every other thing has remained, well…an anti climax. My Lord you can see now that this was another obvious trap to tarnish our client’s golden career. But no doubts sir, you were a witness to how things eventually played out. The trap failed woefully, because although the jinx swallowed our client nonetheless, the circumstances of his defeat kept him on the right side of public opinion, thus throwing a spoke in the wheels of the malevolent defendants.

And, at this juncture my Lord, we would like to move for the National teams of Argentina to be joined as necessary defendants to this suit. Yes, that second defeat at their hands, has been trailing our client’s career in an uncanny way. We suspect some kind of ghoulish vengeance for that daring strike in ‘94 referred to in foregoing paragraphs.

My Lord, the defendants arm-twisted our client to continue to the Beijing Olympics and mandated him to achieve Olympic gold. We saw how he bravely steered the lads all the way to the final. Again, the Argentines (!) stood in the way. My Lord, as usual, the voice of the people moved justice to our client’s favour again. The chants got alarmingly close to threats of anarchy if the Federation ever sacked him. (My Lord certainly understands what anarchy portends for the judicial institution, and we hope this reference serves as useful practice direction).  

However, in the face of unending mediocrities we continued recording at the senior team level, (compounded by yet another cheap defeat by Argentina [again!] at the Mundials; the defendants sneaked up to our client yet again. Our client accepted; and in his characteristic commitment to God (My Lord recalls that his inaugural speech was a gospel tune) and country, he failed to see through the glaring jealousies at work in the Football Federation.

We advised him on the warning signs when the defendants paraded a suspiciously weak (Argentine!!!) team against our senior team which he had given the needed face-lift. Our client scaled through; and the Federation yielded to the alien concept of a second leg in a friendly match (!) just to catch him short.  When defeat only made Nigerians chant his name the more; the defendants executed the ultimate coupe de grace. They infiltrated his camp. His goalkeeper was turned berserk, and on that final agonizing day against the Guineans; the fair legs of his once lethal winger grew leaden and stiff.

The defendants could not resist their glee when the hitherto supportive public poll grew hazy and in the ensuing confusion, they struck- by purporting to SACK him. But my Lord, this Samson may be bald but he is no push-over, emboldened by our robust Legal Practice.

The argument on the other side is that our client failed to meet the milestones stated in his contract. They insist that he was mandated to attain the semi-final spot at the African Nations Cup next year. .But my Lord, we did not even reach the competition on account of force majeure! Oh yes! The sweltering Abuja heat on that fatal match-day was a natural disaster that obviously interfered with seamless performance of his obligations under the contract. Now, if the country had reached the competition and failed to get to the semis, we would not task the time of the court and would gladly accept the defendant’s debriefing.

Here we wish to refer to the case of Avram Grant v. Chelsea (2008, UCL) wherein the plaintiff had been wrongfully sacked because of failure to attain European glory. Of course the highhanded defendant-employer paid millions in compensation, because there was no laid down expectation, thus no failure to perform; therefore the sack was unjustified. The similarity to our case is striking My Lord. The contract was silent on what the liabilities were if the country failed to qualify! And my Lord, it is trite Law that the express mention of something implies automatic exclusion of the unmentioned ones. (Expressio unis est exclusio alterius!)

In the light of the foregoing, we hereby seek the following orders from this Honourable court:

·         That the position of the Chief Coach of the country’s senior team be declared vacant pending the final determination of this suit; and until such further period as counsel on either side have fully and finally exhausted their respective rights to Appeal up to the apex court.

·         That a compensation of Two Billion pounds (amounting to the financial value that would have accrued to our client if he had accepted offers in Europe these last six years) be awarded our client. We gather that Chelsea FC looked his way when they bought his protégé midfielder. (We urge that you dismiss the defendant’s position that our client would not have survived 6 years under Chelsea’s tempestuous ownership-  as mere speculative conjecture)

·         Public Apology from the Argentine senior and age-group teams, as well as a directive to FIFA to stand down any fixture between the two countries for the next ten years.

·         That Mr. Odemwinge be fined a year’s wages in both club and country for “refusing to play” against the Guineans. (See the case of Tevez v. Manchester City (unreported)

My Lord, we humbly close our case with the maxim: Those who live in Glass Houses should not throw stones.

THE END

TRICK OR TREAT? (The Lawyer’s Halloween Story)

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Often we have heard it said that the Legal profession is a jealous mistress. Here, the flippant reader may point out that as a rule, most jealous mistresses are also unattractive. But we shall not be drawn into that argument.  The Law exhibits no more violent reaction than any female whose place in a man’s heart is under threat and will nag and fight, claw and bite, to restrain him from the lures of other callings. Like every possessive lass, the Law insists on making Life one long, unending courtship, and will put one through massive rigours in the quest for perfection. It is therefore no coincidence in the profession to say that Practice makes perfect.

So how did lawyers end up in this chokehold-romance? Well, it is the inevitable consequence of failing Math. This in itself is food for thought when expressed this way: Math is all about logic. You must fail Math to be a Lawyer. Yet, Lawyers decide the fate of society- by applying logic. (And the result is blind arguments. No wonder Justice is equally blind)

Back to the subject. Being such an abject failure in Math, the lawyer desperately turns to English. He must create a kind of balance by mastering the language beyond ordinary (and useful) application. So he devours the dictionaries and encyclopedias, derisively snorting at fiction and other lively writings. He digs for the roots of words and burrows through thick covers of the Thesaurus to guarantee an ample barrage of heavy-sounding synonyms. He is egged on by his tutors: “Talking is the Lawyer’s stock in trade, learn more words!” In his defective logic, he misses the irony when people offer low fees for his “services”. And the bewildered client rolls his eyes “Did they not say Talk is cheap?”

For his cheekiness, the client is dragged through the agony of multi-paragraphed affidavits, wherein he only recognizes his name amidst a befuddling mass of archaism. He further bears the cross during court examinations and comes out sweating, more than willing to settle out of that torture chambers they call - Courtroom. The lawyer smiles inwardly. Even if he is an utter imbecile at balancing equations, his Bank statement never fails to balance on account of his wordsmithery.

But Math shows its supremacy again. Technology!

While the Law sets out to make us all into wizened conservatives scared of stepping beyond the straight and narrow, Technology frees the merry, wayfaring adventurer in us. We squeal gleefully at another new toy in the market, frantically jostling for the latest designs. Nobody is spared. The old, the rich, the young and the struggling. Nobody stays the same after experiencing the seductive Blackberry touch. The world is launched into the exhilarating social media where all things are bright and beautiful. “LOL” removes the sting from all transgressions, and the “like” button maintains social equilibrium. We do not take it beyond that Zuckerberg fellow to add a new application- the “Facebook-Jury” and thus, place guilt/innocence at the realm of a digital sentence. Computer programmers never rest on their oars. Daily, algorithms and other complex numberings flow from their heads and assume the shape of more smart gadgets. The Ipads, the Galaxys…all these prove very bitter tablets for the Law’s ingestion. The world is no longer patient with words!

Risking the tumultuous ire of the jealous mistress, the Lawyer tries to experiment along these new ideas. He sneaks behind his dusty libraries and opens a lap-top. All the clients have gone online, and can only be reached with hi-tech lingo. After several vigorous scratches to his head, The Lawyer stumbles on a phrase: The LAW-BLOG. Lmao! Laughing My Ass Off (yes, the Law is an ass).

Incidentally, today is Halloween, and this thought conjures a scenario in my mind:

Think of the typical Halloween costume party. (Not like I have ever been in one though). Invitations have been sent out to your most interesting friends. The dour and the dull are conveniently omitted. Nightfall approaches, and the creepy characters start emerging: Count Dracula with his exaggerated canines dragging a bloodied heart in tow. Frankenstein’s massive frame vibrates the ground as he glares wildly at impetuous kicks from a snarling Mr. Hyde. Dorian Gray’s chilling eyes speak countless horrors of corrupted youth bottled in a fragile mask; Werewolves, Vampires and Zombies huddle in dark corners shrieking gutturally. If the setting is Nigeria, the acclaimed Nollywood House of Macro would also have done a decent replica of Mr. Clifford Orji; or  better still, Mrs. Merit (from Living in Bondage) swathed in white sheets with that disturbing monotone of “Andy, Andy, Andy”. Howls and cries reverberate on all corners of the room. Everybody is a child again, terrified and having fun.

And supposing, when the last guests trickle in and the oaken door is about to be sealed from the sleeping world, a final apparition rises from the shadows. This latest entrant is quite as scary as the rest. Flowing, ominous dark robes, and a timeworn, dusty headgear. Wow! Which character is this from the ghosts of the ancient past...?

The apparition suddenly turns and reveals a bespectacled face, while intoning its best imitations of the evil dead…in Latin.

Lo! It is a Lawyer!

I bet the party will break up awhile in confusion; and the misfit brusquely shown the way out. He will go back to the arms of his jealous mistress, who will kiss him for having returned, untainted by the noisy neighbors. A most wordy lover.

Meanwhile, he will lay silent in her arms, the loud fun-fare of the night eating his heart out.

He will remain an outsider to their revelry; because the world has not yet figured out what his real roles are: To Trick or to Treat?

THE END

POSTSCRIPT: Please, wish me a Fab' Birthday; and Welcome to the Unstarched Collar BlogSpot!

THE YOUNG BAR AS THREATENED SPECIES (BOOK TWO)

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I once sat to an out-of court settlement forum on the opposing side of a learned SAN. Daunted by the prospect, I had researched vigorously and come up with an infallible proposal, waiting eagerly to see it stun the silken one. Two hours later, my back still ached from the condescending pats he administered (good job, son! good job!...you have a bright future in the practice). Meanwhile, he had my client hopelessly seduced with his joviality- “Trust me sir, I hate court-rooms...I hope we can kill this matter before it gets there!” he crooned while making hasty red markings on my proposal. My client nodded along, blissfully unaware of how those red marks twisted his case beyond salvage.  

“You see”, the SAN started a monologue as we reclined in the leathery interior of his BMW (while I silently charted alternate courses for the transport-stipend my client had earlier provided) “It beats me completely when today’s young lawyers come up with paranoid ideas of some evil machine working on a steady grind to annihilate them. And in typical extremities of youthful ignorance, these ideas have been crystallised into a mindset. They suspect anyone upwards five years at the Bar of being part of a crew installed by ‘the system’ to operate the said evil machine.” I listened. He continued, “A quote from the 18^th century Greek, Hesiod easily comes to mind - ‘When I was a boy, we were taught to be discreet and respectful of elders...but the present youth are exceedingly wise and impatient of restraint’

I hear they are even moving for a minimum wage for young lawyers; the temerity!” He gasped, turning to me in purple faced indignation. I fixed my stare on the glittering dashboard; silence is golden. “We do them a favour when we employ them, I tell you!  For what is intelligence without experience? Law practice is a juicy morsel you can only nibble upon sprouting the teeth of experience. We help them cut their first tooth, and it is bad enough that we suffer the double jeopardy of also paying them salaries...now they want to fix the rates!  The world is surely at its twilight when we  allow the issue of fair  recompense to be determined by  some psychedelic youth forum.

And the ridiculous chants to scrap this title, our little reward for a life of drudgery in the law’s temple. They try to support this position with claims that we block them from the largesse of legalesse. Ha! These kids have outsized self-beliefs I tell you. So they really believe they can compete? Clients are not fools. Winning cases has never been about lengthy research and smart presentations. If that was the case, the law would not thrive. Forget all that talk of no-adverts, the Law sells as a brand. In the legal marketplace, we have built brands. Clients are suckers for brands. Have you never asked yourself why despite the hue and cry of our high prices, we keep winning them? Do these neonates know this? They whittle down fees to ridiculous rates, and vaunt about revolutionising legal practice to become more affordable! Refined clientele flee from such roadside peddling.

Do you think the world is blind to the falling standards in the profession? This consolidates our position as rare species, who must be optimized before the entire legal structure falls to the ruins of the young bar. I have loads of them in my employ; what do they do? Waste all their time on the social networks and Blackberries. I humbly take my fair share of blame in this. I was the one that availed them computers and internet connection in the first place. Well, I have learnt that kindness does not always pay off. And they claim to work like robots, well they do. They churn out volumes of briefs and motions but the intricate process of structuring these to a win-win situation is what they are incapable of. 
Let me tell you, intelligence without initiative is useless. Theirs is a workmans’s mentality, and we treat them as such. How often do they initiate projects? Never. They are only about their salaries and allowances. They will grow to turn the profession into a vista for the mediocre...hopefully this will transpire after my lifetime.

Yet they shout for equal rights. That in itself is a measure of their superlative ignorance. The first maxim at the Bar is seniority...an age-long exception conceeded by the concept of Equality before the Law. What are their options? To operate misguidedly and try to win clients without mentorship and make further mess of the law’s reputation which they are already doing a geat job of rubbishing? See, I have a son in High School, a precocious dude, and he’s only fifteen.. He stands a better chance of making partner in my Firm than many of those shoddy young ones. My boy already stands up to me  without cowering and never takes no for an answer, the most essential attribute of a good lawyer. I now believe that perpetual succession should be advanced in Legal practice only if subsequent take-overs are from the Principal’s lineage.

I read of newspaper articles condemning the idea of juniors carrying our bags. Oh, you think we started that practice? No! It is merely an obsequious display which the incompetent hand tries make amends with. And now they turn it around to make us look like slave-drivers.  A judge once insisted in open court that I address my staff as “colleague”, I retorted that I would be doing the profession disservice by doing that, as the fellow’s case was so hopeless. I had since convinced myself he would at best function as a paralegal, and routinely assigned him such non-intellectual tasks as....well, carrying my bag. Everyday, I pray for the rascal to resign, but he sits smiling at every thinly veiled insult I throw his way. His numb skull probably managed to register a clause in his employment contract that entitles him to an extra month’s salary upon terminantion from my side. And I will not voluntarily finance the release of that hazard to the streets.

The funny thing is that I have witnessed many previously young lawyers metamorphosize once they attain their sixth year at the Bar. They are the quickest to scorn their immediate juniors, they are quick to betray their peers for a few privileges we dangle. I enjoy setting them against one another and seeing them fight for my approving nod or thumbs-up. They preen visibly at my slightest compliments and suspend further talk of salary review or any such ambitions. I deliberately make them aware of my assets, and nurture their dog-like loyalties along with their dreams of sharing in a huge rush of profit, someday.  

I also hear they are fighting the worthy efforts to electronically verify entrants to the legal sphere. In their shallow thinking, they fail to see the prospects this has of narrowing competition. Or maybe (as my precocious son pointed out) they are saddled with discomforts that their oftentimes dubious qualifications coud be called into question.”

He paused suddenly. “How long have you been at the Bar?” The truth forced an escape through unwilling lips. “Three years sir.” His eyes moved shiftily “Oh, you must note that there are a few exceptions to the general. From your intelligent proposal, I think you have a bright road ahead. Here’s my card, if you ever need better mentoring, we can discuss terms.”

I alighted, and for once the heat waves of Abuja was welcoming. I stared at the retreating vehicle and slowly released the shreds of his Call-card to the lazy hot wind.


THE END.


First published in Thisday Newspapers: July 19, 2011

The Law has built a Democracy, which thrives without it…

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“With the deepest respect, ‘Legal action’, is a contradictory concept” someone once said. I would usually respond with equally sharp retort, but I merely smiled at the jibe. I should smile; the words came from one of our high profile clients. It was at one of those who’s-got-more-nerve meetings where our firm had just detailed justifications for an upward review of our legal fees, and the clients weren’t buying- at least not without a fight. Fired on by our (shamelessly) obsequious response, (My partner was in fits of laughter) the client continued- “Of course! Lawyers never act. They merely argue over the actions of others- in retrospect.” Here, our smiles froze. His eyes twinkled at our reaction. “Damnable quote no doubt, but you must admit, with an unmistakable ring of truth” We stared limply- Retainer-packages do not usually come as big as this client, a fact not escaping his shrewdly narrowed eyes. “Well, Truth is bitter… and who wouldn’t be, when lawyers prefer the company of Lies?” This thawed us greatly, and the meeting momentarily broke up with peals of laughter.

Now, I am reading about one of the miraculously rescued Chilean miners, who last year kept us all gripping the seats in our living rooms. The report reads that this miner, Jose Ojeda is bitter. He wants his little scribble back. Please note that at the time of writing, the said scribble was simply a desperate last act; an agonized shout to a distant world crumpled up in a soiled paper-fragment, a residual stirring of hope. Six months thence, this has changed dramatically. The words “Estamos bien en el refugio los 33”- We are okay in the refuge, 33 of us- have grown iconic and famed beyond possibilities. Unfortunately for the author, the country’s president prefers to display it as a testament of collective heroism. He wants it in the national museum- for posterity. Posterity, with awe-widened eyes, who will ask- under whose government was this feat achieved? His name will echo again and again. In its grave a hundred years hence, his blushing remains will smilingly demur- Oh don’t mention…the pleasure is all mine. But no, Mr. Ojeda wants to be spoilsport and insists “I wrote it, it is mine…and I want it back.”

I cannot help noting how akin to our lot as lawyers the above scenario is. Of course it can be argued that having planted ourselves as the exclusive access to justice; we deserve the accompanying baggage, whatever the hue. We claim to be ultimate life-savers, a last act of hope tossed to the mercy of the four winds. When promises are not met, when amiable negotiations fail, and with all the possible retributions for ill-advised self-help, the lawyer becomes an option.  The client rushes in, desperate lines etched on the forehead, and pleads and begs. “I want justice!” Ever brimming with benevolence, the lawyer throws his weight in, and the client is happy. That is, before the journey to his desired destination is assessed in hard figures and charges.  Once that happens, the client alters his tune… “Pay that much?! For simply filing a few papers, papers containing my own actions, and sworn testimony, come on, I want my brief back!”

Sadly, recent events have not helped ameliorate the issue. The Law’s inadequacy is exposed, even by its foremost proponents. For instance, how long would a war-crimes tribunal or the Internal Criminal Court have spent on procedural compliance and other such lengthy considerations in the matter of the terrorist who the world had until recently been laden with? And what happened? A quick raid, a cursory announcement…closure! Such time-consuming legal concepts as sovereignty and territory were waved aside; yet justice happened…without the law!

Democracy has become a cliché. Almost every nation now practices it. The contemporary quest is now for the purest blend; a democracy where the rights of persons are held in the absolute, a situation that guarantees these rights, over and beyond even the constraints of the law. The people should say when they want to wield their rights, in what form and manner they prefer, and the lawyer has to know his place- a mere interpreter after the fact, and not the dictator of rules of engagement. It promises a glorious picture; an informal world of absolute rights and immediate redress…without the law.

It gets even better. In this ideal world, redress will be obtainable in any manner preferred by the aggrieved. A bullet to the head, a machete cut, a torched, nay… bombed house, a kidnapped spouse; remedies that truly purge one of the bitterness implanted by his enemy. Lawyers in their hypocrisy label enemies, ‘defendants’ and indulge them with a right of reply, resulting in such absurdities as reversal on Appeal. Again, please note that a right should never be reversed, it is absolute! The law had everyone chained. It removed the flesh from life, and created intellectual zombies. In the purest democracy, life will even become more valuable, because death will be merely fluctuations-in-an-enemy-temperament away.

The pure democracy does not need the State. The concept of a State is a lawyer’s creation. In the ideal world, there is no state; there is only a state of being. The lawyer in his craftiness tries to partition humans into small governable units where he can make a living off them in an arbitrary arrangement of rights and duties. He traps them into thinking that remedy for wrong is appropriate only when he dispenses it. He preaches caution and restraint, fostering a timid population easier for him to lord over. He wields a fairness-scale that ignores certain inequalities permitted by nature. Survival is not only meant for the fittest, he yells, eroding the hard-fought terrains of the strong and the fit to accommodate the weak and the lazy. Modern man thus emasculated, merely exists; a puppet navigated along every stringy whims of the law.

The signs are clear. The world is raising a new generation of free-thinkers. These will be led through the rigours of the wild fields and the wisdom of the dark streets. Their palms roundly calloused to blunt the scalding effects of taking the law in their own hands…and crushing it. Admittedly, the Law has existed these long millennia as the last hope of the common man. In the new world of a purest Democracy, there will be no common man; each man is unique, and at liberty to strike home this uniqueness, with a cudgel.

Returning to Mr. Jose Ojeda…when he scribbled the Mayday plea, he rested all his hopes on the only machinery capable of conducting the far-reaching rescue-operations that bailed him and his friends from the earth’s sepulchral bellies. But, with the mountain air wafting across his face and the dizzying ululations of a cheering throng, he rediscovered his powers to exist- to exist as an individual. His helpless submission to state lapsed, and now, he grows strong enough to possibly go toe to toe with the president, his rescuer...for stealing his cry for help.

Insightful! The tridum of State, Law and Lawyers may have built and assured the rights of people. They may have lifted them off the nightmarish visions of a Hobbesian hell and sustained certain civilization. 

But then, the vogue has changed. In the purest democracy, the people dreamily recall the wild impulses and sweetly base instincts which the fine details of the law have repressed…ostensibly for their own sustenance- and issue a resonant demand: “We want them back!”


THE END


First Published in Thisday Newspapers: May 24, 2011

REALITY-TV MAY YET SAVE THE BAR

I am in love with the movie The King’s Speech. It is the best movie in the world. To be honest though, I have not seen it yet. But every other person has, and they are all in love with it. I love the movie for what it achieved. Overnight; reliving the agonizingly gradual mastery of a royal-stutter becomes a massive global tonic. That is pure genius.

However on a closer look, it can easily move one into a state of introspective stock-taking. How many of what we consider our lives’ highlights would inspire more than a passing interest from outsiders? Let alone, our mundane struggles. How many times have you pushed your exciting photos into the hands of friends and regaled them with explanatory details on each shot, only to have them flee at the slightest leeway? How many people genuinely stay awake as you recount your running battle with ulcer, or your eventual victory over math? Maybe you would need to be a king first, or maybe it just requires publicity, of Hollywood proportions. (Or even Nollywood these days).

Well, deal with it, all ordinary persons. Ordinary persons like me…me? 

No, I am not an ordinary person, I am a lawyer. And for one in a profession desperately needy of crowd attention, I suffer even more.

Like every lawyer, I have read books, useful books. My brain swims in the famed Pierian Spring. There is very little under the sun that I have not encountered in my studious voyages. I consider myself a talker too, the one with all the stories and all the jokes. Well, that was before I observed that the reputation is restricted to the legal fold.

I had ruled my Uncle’s wife an unfortunate nit-wit when I noticed she makes funny faces whenever my back is turned. A detail revealed by the shiny mantel-piece in their living room. Her teenage children are loads smarter; they squeal in glee when I deliver yet another wicked legal punch-line at dinner, their brains match mine, wave length-for-wave-length. Or so I thought…Until a few weeks ago: a carelessly placed Blackberry, no password, my lawyer-inquisitiveness, and I saw the real source of their laughter at my jokes: Pings hastily exchanged under the table “Tell me what bores more than a yam beetle: Uncle Massai!” That was from Sammy, the one they say aspires to be a rap-artiste. And the sister concurs with a big LOL. I no longer go to my uncle’s. Poor man, no wonder he exited so early; who would bear having his pure genes so polluted by a spouse of dubious grey-matter.

Again, I digress. Digression, according to my more cerebral audience, is my best trick. “It injects versatility into a conversation” my colleague Sarah had once enthused as I blushingly handed her a Legal Opinion I had stayed up all night to help her prepare. She will go places, that lady.

But back to the topic, it really saddens me to know that if the movie above had been titled “The Lawyer’s Speech”, it would premiere to halls of vacant seats. The tragedy lies in the fact that, truly, if anybody make speeches worth listening to, Lawyers it should be! But nobody wants to listen when we talk, unless they absolutely have to.

Our cinemas- the courtrooms are bare. Even the litigants stay off. I have a feeling tennis would overtake football for popularity if the use of “court” was minimized. If they must be bought, legal publications are probably useful only in pharmaceutical stores…as sedatives.

Nobody invites us to be Masters of Ceremonies (I hope they still call them that) at colourful events and parties. The core of our social oratory is at funerals- the dead can’t be more asleep of course.

Worse, that obnoxious practice, blogging has pulled the rug further beneath us. Ad hoc Law reporters are now born every day. Not smart, but with access to smart-technology. In half the time it takes to flip through our large volumes, they click the download and tweet a link, spiced with cheap rhetoric and draw the entire crowd. We have fought bravely, but gradually, even the Law is seduced to the I.T. pavilion.

Yes, we have dealt the hand of living off the combative aspects of human nature, but modern life is moving for a checkmate. All the jokes are on us, we are colourless, we are dry, we are lonely. Words may have tried, but they are dying. It is the age of abbreviations. No… abbreviations are even growing outmoded, people now write in pictorials!

Pictures and TV have changed reality. Reality shows (Is there a bigger contradiction in terms!) have come to stay. Sadly, we are barred from their juicy reach (no adverts!). But wait a minute…think Boston Legal, and the rest of them, and voila! 

Therein lies our salvation! Reality TV!

They roll out in their numbers, subtle brand promos: the Scout, the Debater, the Search, the Heir…When you consider the spark they kindle in our huge population, and the stiff competition by professionals to become Apprentices, or even Dragons, it can only go a step worse…The Lawyer.

Procedure: Trigger off a nation-wide search process, sell entry forms, establish a consortium of banks, the media and the Bar (no Silks…please). A huge media-covered selection process (this is where the judges come in); and the Lawyer’s Den is ready to be unveiled.

Two dozen young aspirants. The winner becomes, well…a Lawyer. (The dream prospect of a Law School waiver will sell, trust me). Content should be varied, everything that obtains in the real world would be thrown in. (Lawyers are snubbed because we always appear larger than life). The show will have it all then, arguments, fights, mischief, romance, conspiracies, parties (not dinners!), scandals…yes scandals sell too; they are an admission of humanness.

Now, unlike what obtains in the courts where the slightest whisper attracts a contempt-charge, the audience can vote and freely pass comments. Their ratings will also extend to the judges and eviction is the immediate consequence of unpopularity.

Eight long weeks each edition will last. Five yearly editions; each producing a winner who represents the universal notion of an ideal lawyer. This personna gets integrated into the profession and among other prizes, wins an entitlement to vote out any five existing lawyers from the Roll. 

As the show grows, the viewers can demand that some existing lawyers be invited, nay, compelled to play. These will endure the same audience appraisal, and for every edition, twenty three lawyers will be debarred…democratically.

Many years will roll by before any impact is noticed from this process. But gradually and surely like the King’s stutter, the old stock of dry and boring lawyers will pass away. They will be replaced by substitutes who ooze mass-appeal, who will re-instill confidence in the Bar. Increased tolerance means increased clientele. Law becomes a competitive profession after all in today’s world.

Time will tell. At the end, lawyers will need no further convincing that life in front of cameras is actually the reel deal.

I rest my thesis.


First Published in Thisday Newspapers: March 22, 2011

IT IS TIME TO GET A SUBSTITUTE FOR THE BENCH!

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Comrades; worthy representatives of the Legislature and the Executive, please pay me heed in this urgent clarion call.

History, aided by that meddlesome French Baron (let the man who can, pronounce his last name unimpeded) has against good judgment pitched us in a state of needless rivalry. Not surprisingly, the wave has struck a right chord with the ever gullible common man.

Of course, many have ignored the Baron’s self-righteous posturing and stuck to the good old method of merging our powers as one and the same. Sadly, our State abandoned that progressive course after a tantalizingly short-lived experiment and adopted this journey into the grotesque (note how well the word rhymes with the Baron’s last name). A process that stifles the ideal partnership; and the many potentials for economy of scale. Who needs checks and balances when you can get cheques and even more rounded balances within this partnership? And who says account-ability must be conjoined as one word?

Such ugly phrases as probity, petitions, impeachment, should be extinguished, and Veto put to the sword. Unfortunately, we have stayed silent for so long, and are poised to suffer the ills of this tragic preference.

To escalate the anomaly, the State provides a Third Arm to oversee our acts! Now, how further denigrating can the situation get, especially when this intrusive Arm is immunized with ‘independence’? Yes! You can spend long months agonizing over a legislation; which in the ideal partnership, I would cheerily assent (especially if it creates yet another Agency to douse the needs of our faithful). And what happens next? It is struck off as null and void, or at best, dealt the patronizing blue pencil treatment. This, by the Arm of busybodies!

Going further, let us not forget that this Arm, emboldened by its independence from checks, struts about with the grossly immodest title, Supreme, affixed to its apex institution. Now, dare any of us speak of a supreme Legislature or a supreme Executive and see if the common man (that accursed lot!) will not instantly yelp of a coup?

And talking of a coup; if only those uniformed fellows constrained their emasculation to this Third Arm, they would provide a panacea…No! They are not an option!

And yet another liberty this Arm takes: Does anybody get elected to positions therein? No! They simply brow-beat us in a ratification exercise that is at best, mere formality. But we must necessarily endure that grueling process of courting voters, and worse, also suffer the humiliation of tribunals under the same Arm!

The bitter truth stares us in the face: We are powerless before them! They co-opt the common man’s sympathies by sniffling that they are the weakest in the midst of two bullies, and that loathsome horde wields unquestioning mass support for them as a result.

But comrades; are all hopes dead?

Recently our State has been bedeviled by happenings that can only be interpreted as ‘signs of the times’

These happenings have taught me that signs of the times are not usually cataclysmic horrors. Sometimes they wear a cheery look; confirming the projections of a beatific hereafter as a quite feasible possibility after all.

Have you not noticed? They have risen against one other, our common foe! Their pretences at sainthood have worn thin, and revealed the typical human within. They now fight for the prize, and how brazen their battle is! Name callings, blackmail, calumny; the works! Those of you who cherish a good bottle can agree that there is no bench-mark for a typical bar-room scuffle. These folks are no different.

In the past, they accused us of corruption, but this has grown stale to the common man. Thus, the sheer novelty of this in-fighting will overwhelm them. There is truly no spectacle as rapturous as the sight of a fallen angel.

So, what do we do? Stand and watch? No no!

We shall inject a fine spray of oil to the troubled fires, and let the common man see that his last hope has crumbled from hidden rot. In our magnanimity, we shall certainly not leave them hope-less. We will simply make them hope for less, henceforth.

First step: From the upper chambers of the Legislature, we shall instigate an outcry, and make ostensible moves to ‘get to the root of the matter.’  Oh, yes there is an intermediate Council that will scream of independence, but riding on the dazed dismay of the common man, we shall prevail.

Mind you, they will kick and fight, because while our immunity is not absolute, theirs continue till death. Whenever they swivel that gavel, they feel like gods. 

They will claw and bite. They will brandish the grundnorm as a shield, and lead the entire pack of the unruly bar baying for blood.

And this is when we win! We shall yell that there is a loophole which the system has hidden for so long. Who will judge the judges? Do we fold our hands and let the sanctity of the state fall under the weight of life-time immunity? And we shall announce to the common man: “No, brethren, the powers to judge them is neither in the hands of Legislature nor the Executive, they are entirely yours! Yours, Mr. Common man!”

The common man (in his fortunate gullibility) will nod maniacally at this logic which for once will empower him, not through the arguments of a counsel, but directly. We shall spew forth flowery speeches of betrayal. We might even get a courageous commoner to self-immolate to the rhythm of our chants: “They are supreme! They are infallible! They have betrayed your trust!”

And the fires will start burning. For once in our half-century, we shall be blameless of the usual cynical accusations. We will become the poor misunderstood victims, who do all the thankless work, while the Arm grows fat on its bench… merely interpreting.

No time will be more opportune to rekindle our union.

All this while, our chants will rise in crescendo: “The elections are your will! Let the numbers show your supremacy, not some Supreme institution that blocks your right despite possible stirrings of dissatisfaction!”

And you know common man is a sucker for clichés. So we shall coin a few: Have you made for ourselves small gods, in whose Case there is No Appeal?

We shall tell them how flexible administrative tribunals are; or better still the ideal out-of court settlement: membership of the right parties. We shall teach them the right allegiances, and instruct them on how compromise is preferable to years of drawn out bitterness and expenses incurred in seeking dubious justice.

So now, let the war begin! Let the press flow in grimy inks of red alert. Let the chambers of the Legislature reverberate in shocked disbelief. Let the Executive issue statements of grief and sorrow.

The good Lord, in his wisdom gave us humans two arms, to function in symmetry. A third arm is clearly an excess!

Remember, the common man is soccer crazy too, so we shall complete the seduction with a well couched slogan:

“It is time to get a Substitute for the Bench!”

Thank you all!




First Published in Thisday Newspapers: March 1, 2011

Understanding the Rights of a Leftist…

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A quiet lawyer is a classic oxymoron. Better still, a curiosity. It gets even curiouser and curiouser (apologies Miss Alice) when the quiet lawyer is also… a lady.

She sat alone, unmoved by the surrounding din. No it wasn’t a riot; it was break-time at another of those Law conferences. I had just shaken off the claws of a friendly colleague, and was trying to clear the buzz his circuitous arguments had implanted in my eardrums.

She sat. No drinks, no snack. Young and well-dressed; but with that subtle wall of frost that constrained admirers to a safe distance. 

I pulled out the chair beside her, ignoring the fact that I was being ignored. With these private persons, the prospect of good company is usually limited, but when they are lawyers, the novelty is gripping. I silently savoured it…

‘I think that last speaker was way off the mark, don’t you?’ The voice startled me. I turned sideways and encountered cool brown eyes.

‘I beg your pardon.’ I failed woefully at replicating her poise.

Her voice was strangely even. It took the shine off the huskiness, giving an oddly ventriloquist feel. ‘I mean the SAN that spoke of Democracy as the last hope of civilization. His premise was all wrong. Democracy as we see it today is actually a scam on human rights and good governance’

‘I find it hard to agree with you’ I smiled. ‘Everybody knows Democracy is oftentimes a huge pain in the neck. But exploring its alternatives may not leave one a neck in the first place.’

She smiled too. ‘Do you really believe that?  Or is it because our profession has no place in any other government system, that our voices usually soar the highest in eulogizing the so-called government of the people?’

‘It is not merely so-called, it is real. Government by a functional Constitution’ I was gradually getting fired up.

‘Oh come on! You and I know that the Constitution merely stipulates the rules of engagement between the State and the rest. And the scales are not equally balanced.’

‘Again, I disagree. The spirit of the Constitution comes alive through us; the lawyers.’

‘Really?’ It was a husky whisper of mockery.

 ‘Yes.’ I chimed. ‘Our practice is actually summarized in the phrase: rights and their protection.’

‘Oh come on, what rights?’

‘I will not tell a lawyer what rights are…you know them yourself’ I was getting irritated at her deliberate aloofness.

‘That is the point.’ Her tone remained oddly even. ‘Rights as we know them today are actually part of the grand conspiracy to deny them’

‘Now, you have lost me’

‘It’s ok. The picture is all there, but you choose not to see it. The Constitution you hail does not contain any right which is not immediately snatched back in the next sentence. Take for instance, the Right to Life. What does it protect you from? Violent death only, not so?’ It does not add anything to your life, and thus offers no protection from death by starvation or neglect. It dangles your basic needs tantalizingly before you, and then goes ahead to brand them non-justiciable. Humans need food, shelter and clothing.  If you cannot provide these, you should at least give them education to curb their natural resistance. Deny them this as well, and the State sits on a landmine.’  She paused to flick a stray strand of hair from her face. ‘Now, you talk of Fair hearing. The common man walks into a courtroom, and watches the judge throw away certain reprieve for technicalities. If he raises a protesting voice, he runs the risk of a new punishment… for contempt. Yes, that is how much his value is held in contempt; at the whim of the Bench.’

‘There is a right to Appeal, remember’ I quickly threw in.

‘Of course there is, with leave of the court.’ She scoffed. ‘Back to your touted rights; I can toil, save and own land, no doubts. But in the same breath, that right is snatched from me on whatever grounds the Executive of the day deems public policy.’

‘The general rights of society outweigh that of a mere individual; that needs not be over flogged.’

‘And who is ‘society’ if not a conglomerate of the individual sub-units? That is the precise problem with your Democracy. It focuses on the majority…and the voices of the minority might as well be the clucks of chickens.’

‘But there is a specified Constitutional medium for the minority to take over power: Votes! And we are at hand to protect these, even post-elections’

‘You merely recite the rote; that in itself being the bane of the lawyer. A bloated sense of importance at the crucial services we deliver to humanity makes us deaf to the creaks and groans underneath the system. And it continues, until the entire world is afire.’

‘I can’t believe you…you actually preach anarchy?’ I mustered my most self-righteous glare.

‘I don’t need to. It is already happening. Today the world burns; disaster is no longer remote, but comes in a chain reaction. Info-tech breaks down territorial borders and reveals the global master-plan of devious leadership. Apocalyptic writings on the Wall are no longer supernatural, they are on Facebook. Support is no longer built by dispersible crowds on hidden street corners, it is built online…’

‘And these global arsonists; what do they advocate...?’

‘A return of power to the individual; the State has failed.’

‘A turn to scattered fragments of selfish interests…?’

‘No, that is what presently obtains in the State. The new trend is for people to actually rule themselves.’

‘Funny, but is present rulership composed of spirits?’

‘No. But in its current design, the state is a faceless institution, and hides the evil components. It needs to be given a multiple face: everyone personally accountable for their acts.’

‘A voyage into the absurd…what next will you advocate… kill all lawyers?’

‘No, no. Just have their tongues out- Cicerosque’

‘That’s not funny’

‘Well, Justice will be better served in silence. The noise we bring gets distracting.’

‘So how will people enforce their rights when lawyers grow mute?’

‘Simple. By common agreement’

‘No umpires?’

‘None’

‘Fists and knives then…?’

‘At least those are more honest than stabs of manipulative counsel and pliant judges’

‘You know, I can have you arrested for these views.’

‘Go ahead then…You only prove my point better: Mr. Human Rights’

‘So how do you propose to solve society’s issues in this new freer world?’

‘Simple. No more elections. No Executive. No National Assembly. A decentralized referendum’

‘Still a rule of the majority, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, of real people not congressmen.’  I had no answer to that.

She continued. ‘The police disbanded, armed forces, same. If we don’t have them, we won’t need them.’

‘Oh, paradise on earth then..? You describe post-Armageddon?’

‘No, it is easily achievable in our lifetimes. The State steadily crumbles our humanness. The movement is to ensure something is left.’ Her eyes had acquired a glaze.

‘Maybe we need to get back to the hall’

‘May I have your card?’

‘Oh…I’ve run out of them…so sorry’ (My wallet swarmed with my business cards)

‘Ok then’ She whispered airily. ‘See you at the other side.’

I stood, and politely waited for her. She stretched under the table and picked up a set of crutches and struggled up. I caught a glimpse through the long skirt- her two legs were withered.

She propped herself on the crutches and smiled up at me.  ‘Oh, don’t look so stricken. Happened when I was still a teenager. Mum and dad could not afford the surgery, and the State said: sorry, Healthcare is not a right.’

I stood, staring at her retreating figure and listening to the fading click of iron crutches on the marbled tiles.


THE END


First published in Thisday Newspapers: February 8, 2011