The top officials inside the Union Buildings were still engaged in emergency meetings seventy-two hours after the Constitutional Court handed down its momentous refugee judgement. They were unable to map a clear route ahead on a finding that government sources privately characterise as “completely unworkable.” The Department of Home Affairs is already struggling under the weight of the ruling, which redraws the mechanism by which South Africa must handle asylum applicants. The department is already dealing with chronic backlogs, understaffed processing centers, and a budget that has been neglected for years.
The court’s decision forces Pretoria to provide constitutional rights to more displaced people, including those who have applied and been rejected in the past, who were formerly targeted for deportation. Experts in the field of law have confirmed that the ruling essentially nullifies essential parts of the current Refugees Act structure, compelling lawmakers to rewrite protocols within a deadline that the government agency views as unachievable. According to reports, on Wednesday morning, Home Affairs Minister Dr. Leon Schreiber, who took over a system that was already in disarray, constituted an emergency ministerial task force to determine the precise financial, human resource, and infrastructural needs for compliance.
The ministry has received the whole written judgement, according to department spokesman Siyanda Mkhize, who continued, “carefully studying its implications,” but she refused to provide a specific response schedule. Mkhize said, “Government respects the authority of the Constitutional Court and will engage the ruling thoroughly,” but he did not promise to put the ruling into action. South Africa’s Consortium for Refugees and Migrants applauded the decision and called on Pretoria to skip the bureaucratic assessment and act immediately.
This lawsuit had its origins over four years ago, when advocacy organisations on behalf of the thousands of asylum seekers held in the Roodepoort Refugee Reception Office in Johannesburg filed a challenge. A picture of a system that had crumbled long before any judge sought change emerged as successive court hearings showed systematic failings — fake paperwork, intentional delays, officials requesting bribes.
A mother from the Congo clutched a battered file folder and read the written summary of the judgement pasted inside as she stood outside the Lawyers for Human Rights offices in Braamfontein, pressing her hand firmly against the glass entryway. The girl who was born to her fourteen years ago in Johannesburg has never had proper identification. Without acknowledging the reporters, she retreated after whispering something in Lingala.
There has been no drafting of revised law. So yet, no funds have been set aside. The implementation date is not yet known. There are thousands of people caught in the between of two systems, one of which has been deemed unconstitutional and the other of which has not even come into existence yet. People caught between that chasm have to wonder how much longer the government can tolerate it.
