There has been a significant rise in litigation between oil companies and those affected by oil operations in Nigerian courts. In the period 1981–86, 24 compensation claims against Shell went to court in Nigeria. In early 1998, Shell was reportedly involved in over 500 pending court cases in Nigeria, out of which 70 per cent, or roughly 350 cases, dealt with oil spills, the other 30 per cent, or 150 cases, dealt mostly with other types of damage from oil operations, contracts, employment and taxation. In the whole of the 1980s, Chevron reportedly had only up to c. 50 court cases in Nigeria. In early 1998, Chevron was involved in over 200 cases, of which 80–90 per cent, or roughly 160–180 cases, dealt with oil spills, other types of damage from oil operations or land acquisition for oil operations. This substantial increase cannot be solely ascribed to expanding oil operations. There are various indications that an increase in the quantity of oil-related litigation was accompanied by legal change. In the 1990s, a number of high profile cases have been won by the local people in the oil-producing areas, notably Shell v. Farah, in which c. 4.6 million Naira (c. US$210,000 according to the official exchange rate) was awarded as damages to the plaintiffs.

The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights1 (hereinafter the “African Charter” or “Charter”) was adopted by the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) Assembly of Heads of State and Government in 1981. It entered into force on 21 October, 1986, after a majority of OAU member states had ratified the Charter. At present, 52 of the 53 member states have become parties: the only non-ratifying state is Eritrea.

Multinational oil corporations (MNOCs) are a strategically important group of multinational corporations (MNCs). There are now many MNOCs operating in both the private and public sectors with remarkably diverse characters, strategies and objectives. Handling large budgets, revenue and capital, and complex advanced technology, they are responsible for exploration, crude oil production, refining, and distribution. These very capacities enable MNOCs to make a number of positive contributions to the economic growth and development of the developing oil-producing countries in which they operate. In that regard, MNOCs engage extensively in joint marketing operations with their host countries in various parts of the world, and foreign funds injected by MNOCs' operations relieve the shortage of financial capital and make greater production possible.

In Botswana, which has one of the fastest growing economies in the world, motor vehicle accidents have become a serious economic and social problem. The waste of human and material resources caused by the resulting deaths, bodily injuries and damage to property has for long been a matter of concern t o the government. This is particularly so because not only are financial resources diverted away from more productive purposes, but members of the public live in fear of being killed, maimed or suffering property damage with no certainty of compensation. Even motor vehicle owners are also adversely affected by the damage to their vehicles and the financially crippling risk of having to pay enormous amounts as damages.

Are “traditional” or “indigenous” land rights an obstacle to development? The question seems simple enough. And the liberal economic perspective currently being advanced by free market advocates such as the Bretton Woods institutions answers: yes, to the extent that those traditional relations hinder the free exchange of land, they do slow development. But of course the question is more complex and requires answers to a number of subsidiary and ancillary questions. Some are definitional and empirical: what are these “traditional land rights”? To what extent do they, rather than codified law or administrative practices, define the relationships of social actors and groups to land and to each other through land? Other questions are more hypothetical: what are the alternatives to the current regime, what costs would installing them incur, and what would be their costs and benefits, once in place? Finally, there are ancillary, but still central questions: what other factors, such as ecological conditions, state policies and non-state institutions, may account for development or the lack thereof, apart from land tenure regimes?

When the Industrial Relations Act was enacted in Swaziland in 1980 its express object was to provide for the collective negotiation of terms and conditions of employment and for the establishment of an Industrial Court for the settlement of disputes arising out of employment. In turn, the avowed purpose for the establishment of the Industrial Court as the nerve centre and most important institution established by the legislative scheme was, and still is, “for the furtherance, securing and maintenance of good industrial relations and employment conditions in Swaziland”. As in the case of other industrial courts and labour adjudicatory institutions with special and limited jurisdiction elsewhere, issues surrounding the jurisdiction of the Industrial Court of Swaziland have given rise to a measure of controversy.

Data collected by comparative legal scholars show that legal transplants usually take place from more complex societies to less complex ones. By contrast, the alternative dispute resolution (ADR) movement that has recently developed in modern societies has been described as a return to a simple model of dispute settlement used in the past and in modern non-Western societies. Does this mean that we are experiencing a new kind of legal transplant, a transplant from less complex to more complex societies? In this article I will argue that this is not the case. Far from being a transplant from the southern to the northern hemisphere, ADR seems indeed to be a modern legal institution born from the retreat of the state from some of its traditional functions. A different question thus needs exploring: is ADR, at least, an institution that can easily be transplanted to Africa where the original transplant of the Western state has failed? In other words, is conciliatory ADR more similar to the African way of dealing with conflicts and consequently to be recommended as the dispute resolution mechanism for modern African states? The question appears to be appropriate in situations such as the one in the Horn of Africa—particularly Eritrea—where the new political leadership is confronting the difficult task of building a new legal system.

In terms of article 6(1) of the Protocol Establishing the African Court of Human and Peoples' Rights, the Court may entitle both relevant non-governmental organizations (NGOs) with observer status before the African Commission on Human and Peoples' Rights (the Commission), and individuals to institute directly before it, urgent cases or cases of serious, systematic or massive violations of human rights. In deciding the admissibility of cases brought under article 6(1), the Court may request the opinion of the Commission which must give its opinion as soon as possible. Additionally, article 25(2) of the Protocol provides that the Court may receive written and oral evidence and other representations including expert testimony and it shall make a decision based on such evidence and representations.

One of the crucial theoretical problems confronting human rights is the perception of its historical derivation related to the universal or relative character of the rights declared. Limited views on the origin of the concept are widespread and easily exploited to stymie die quest for human rights. Cultural-monopolist derivations of its origin have fed relativist but apologist arguments in developing countries. A cultural-universalist conception is not only possible but preferable. A contrary position would both contradict and deter the cause of human rights. To arrogate the concept to some groups, cultures and civilizations to die exclusion of others would be deleterious to the momentum toward universal consensus on human rights in at least two major ways. It would harden or ossify divisive tendencies and provide ammunition for apologist justification of violations.

In the Internet ruling the Authority did not come to the assistance of the monopoly. It is submitted that the vested interests of the ISPs outweighed any protection that Telkom could claim and it suited the Authority then to have reference to constitutional rights and universal sendee policies to justify its ruling. The Authority's perception of the market-place may have influenced the decision. In the call back ruling, however, the Authority came to the assistance of the monopoly. This ruling was based in part on a desire to protect Telkom's revenue. But it seems because the call back operators were not afforded an opportunity to present a case to protect their interests, the Authority assumed Telkom's interests to be more important. This notwithstanding, in both rulings the Authority opted for a value-laden rather than a technologically informed decision. While this may be commendable in terms of achieving the overall goals of the sector, it does lead to inconsistency. As I have alluded to above, this can perhaps be overcome if the Authority develops a coherent policy framework for decision making, i.e. the White Paper and the Telecommunications Act afford the Authority a number of policy beacons by which they may be guided and it is inappropriate to follow one (the Telkom monopoly) at the expense of others.

In a criminal trial an accused person may either choose not to give evidence or give evidence on oath (or affirmation) or make an unsworn statement from the dock. It is with this latter option that this article is concerned. This right to make a statement without being sworn is recognized in section 218 of the Criminal Procedure and Evidence Act (C. P. & E.) which confers competency on an accused person, their wife or husband to testify for the defence at every stage of the proceedings. Section 218(3) provides that:

In English law, since 1977 at least, the term “application for judicial review” has come to refer to the special method of applying for public law remedies in the supervisory jurisdiction of the High Court over inferior courts and administrative bodies or authorities. Moreover, die fine expositions flowing from that jurisdiction—comprising judicial decisions, dicta and learned writings alike—have tended to sound at points as if “judicial review” might be more or less coterminous with “supervisory review”. A useful introduction to the subject, ostensibly setting out “to examine the various different review jurisdictions vested in die English courts”, however, ends up acknowledging and treating only the appellate and supervisory jurisdictions.

State v. K [1998] 1 LRC 248 (High Court (Cape of Good Hope Provincial Division) South Africa)

The accused had been convicted of sodomy committed with another consenting adult male. A criminal review raised the question of whether the continued proscription of sodomy was constitutional.

State v. Hassen and Another [1998] 1 LRC 49 (Supreme Court of Soutfi Transvaal Provincial Division)

The appellants had been apprehended as a result of a police trap, and were charged and convicted of contravening section 20 of the Diamonds Act, 1986. They appealed on die grounds that entrapment and the use of evidence obtained as a result of a police trap contravened their right to a fair trial provided by section 25(3) of the Constitution.

State v. Angula, State v. Lucas [1998] 1 LRC 14 (High Court, Namibia)

The appellants had applied in the respective magistrates’ courts for discovery of state witnesses’ statements and other material relevant to the defence. The courts had refused to order discovery and the appellants appealed to the High Court on the grounds that such a refusal was in breach of their right to a fair trial under Article 12(1)(a) of the Constitution.

United Parties v. Minister of Justice, Legal and Parliamentary Affairs [1998] 1 LRC 614 (Supreme Court of Zimbabwe)

In 1992 the Political Parties (Finance) Act was passed which made provision for the state funding of political parties. Section 3(3) provided that all political parties would be entitled to state funding in proportion to the number of their members elected to parliament, so long as they had a minimum of 15 elected members. At that time ZANU(PF) candidates were elected to 117 of the 120 parliamentary seats and in the 1995 general election this increased to 118 out of 120 seats. The effect of section 3(3) was that only ZANU(PF) qualified for state funding. The applicant was a recognized political party formed in 1994. It had no members of parliament and thus did not qualify for any state funding. It sought a declaration that section 3 infringed the constitutional right to freedom of expression and was therefore invalid.