Two events in recent weeks have cast a harsh light on the fragile equilibrium between Mauritius’ executive and judiciary. First, the tug of war over the list of Senior Counsels and Senior Attorneys. The Supreme Court recalled its own list to prevent executive interference, but the Office of the President went ahead and published a modified version in defiance of judicial authority. Second, the appointment of Justice Nicolas Ohsan-Bellepeau as Special Investigator in the Afrinic affair. His selection was made by presidential decree without the green light of the Chief Justice. He eventually quit, blocked by an injunction issued by Justice Azam Neerooa on Aug. 7.

These episodes strike at the heart of constitutionalism: the doctrine of separation of powers. When the executive arrogates to itself the prerogatives of the judiciary, the checks and balances that sustain democracy are imperiled.

Mauritius has been here before. In 2016, the government attempted to create a Prosecution Commission that would have clipped the wings of then-Director of Public Prosecutions, Satyajit Boolell. That plan was abandoned after public outcry and the withdrawal of coalition partners (PMSD). Yet the logic remains: redesigning institutions not for systemic efficiency, but for political expediency.

Today, history risks repeating itself. The government floats the creation of a new Court of Appeal, with hints that foreign or retired judges could be enlisted. Such an arrangement would run counter to both constitutional text – Section 80(3) requires appellate judges to be drawn from the Supreme Court – and the spirit of the Mackay (1998) and Sachs (2001) reports, which warned against diluting local judicial independence.

The principle is clear: Article 10 of the Constitution guarantees a fair trial before an independent and impartial tribunal. That independence is not cosmetic. It requires institutional safeguards, merit-based appointments, and insulation from executive influence. The United Nations Basic Principles on the Independence of the Judiciary, adopted in 1985, echo the same: judges must be free from inappropriate interference.

Mauritius’ executive seems intent on testing those boundaries. By publishing a modified list of Senior Counsels without judicial validation, the presidency undermined the integrity of the bench. By appointing Ohsan-Bellepeau without consultation, it sidelined the Chief Justice. Both acts weaken the public perception of impartial justice. As former Justice Vinod Boolell reminded, “Justice should not only be done, but should manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done.''

The erosion of separation of powers is not an abstract concern. It sets a precedent where each government in power reshapes the judiciary to suit its interests. This undermines predictability, chills judicial independence, and corrodes democratic legitimacy. Once politicization takes root, the rule of law is no longer a shield for the citizen but a tool for the incumbent.

Already, murmurs of unease ripple across the judiciary. Judges express apprehension at the prospect of an appellate body detached from the Supreme Court. Attorneys and barristers question the fairness of politically driven promotions. Civil society recalls the failed Prosecution Commission and sees the same script playing again. The way forward is neither paralysis nor blind confrontation. Judicial reform is necessary, but reform must be anchored in principle, not expediency. Two steps that can help :

• Consult openly. Any structural reform must be preceded by broad consultations with the judiciary, bar associations and civil society.

• Protect public trust. Reforms must go beyond technical compliance to strengthen confidence that courts remain impartial arbiters, not political instruments.

Delayed justice is injustice. But justice bent by political will is tyranny in slow motion. The events surrounding the Senior Counsel list and the Afrinic appointment are warning shots. They expose how quickly constitutional norms can be eroded if vigilance falters.

Mauritius has long prided itself on stable democratic institutions. That reputation is now at stake. The judiciary must stand firm, the executive must show restraint, and citizens must demand that reforms elevate – not compromise – the independence of the courts.

A democracy lives or dies not by the might of its rulers, but by the integrity of its institutions. When one arm of government reaches into the domain of another, it is not simply a quarrel between elites. It is the unraveling of the rule of law itself.

Post-scriptum:

Raouf Gulbul defends many former government officials. He is also the husband of the Chief Justice. So what? In any state that respects itself, the title of senior counsel should be awarded on merit. The prerogative to decide sits with the Chief Justice, who, we understand, recused herself from the process and invited other judges to decide.

The perception game may be muddied, but the presidency has clearly erred by meddling with and challenging the Chief Justice’s prerogatives — not once, but twice.

That’s shortsighted. By respecting the recommendations of the Chief Justice, any controversy would have centered on how the judiciary deals with potential spousal bias. Instead, government shifted the focus onto itself and its appetite to ride roughshod, and perhaps settle scores, at the expense of its image as guardian of the Constitution and its laws. Whoever advised and implemented this strategy made the wrong call and will pay a heavy price for it.