During the recent Incwala Ceremony, a public outcry erupted following the appearance of high-profile convicted offenders during the main day of the event.
Among those seen were former LaMgabhi MP, former Minister of Public Works and Transport, Ntuthuko Dlamini, and businessman Kakona Dlamini, among others — all convicted of serious crimes that remain vivid in the public memory.
Ntuthuko Dlamini, for instance, was convicted in the widely publicised Luyengweni land dispute murders, in which three people were shot dead. Kakona Dlamini was convicted of a series of motor vehicle theft offences.
Their presence at a sacred national ceremony prompted widespread concern, confusion and shock among members of the public, particularly among families directly affected by these crimes.
In response to the public outcry, His Majesty’s Correctional Services (HMCS) issued a statement reminding the nation that its constitutional and statutory mandate is not merely to punish, but also to rehabilitate and reintegrate offenders into society. Indeed, both domestic law and international legal frameworks strongly support this philosophy.
On paper, the explanation was legally sound. In practice, however, the decision left many members of the public troubled and unsettled.
This piece is not written to undermine rehabilitation. On the contrary, it is written in defence of it — questioning its misuse, misapplication and moral blindness when context, trauma and social consequences are ignored.
THE SOURCE OF THE PUBLIC OUTRAGE
Without bias, it is necessary to examine why the public reaction was so strong. The case of Ntuthuko Dlamini provides critical background.
The murders for which he was convicted were not abstract or distant legal events. They were recorded, circulated and witnessed by the nation. Video footage showed a violent confrontation escalating into the merciless killing of three human beings. These images were graphic, shocking and deeply traumatic.
When Dlamini was arrested, the prosecution vigorously opposed bail, arguing that emotions were high, the community was volatile and public safety was at risk. At that stage, the justice system acknowledged that crime did not occur in a vacuum; it affected families, communities and the national conscience.
I believe it is important to recall this context. In doing so, I do not seek to reopen wounds for sensationalism, but to remind us that the justice system once recognised the depth of public trauma caused by this crime. It therefore appears inconsistent, if not careless, to later disregard that same trauma in the name of rehabilitation.
PUNISHMENT, DETERRENCE AND SOCIAL MEANING
When serious crimes such as murder occur, families of victims often express a single, desperate hope — that the law will take its full course.
For many, the incarceration of the offender provides a measure of closure. It signals that society recognises the gravity of their loss and that the offender has forfeited certain freedoms by violating the most fundamental social contract — the right to life.
Historically, custodial sentences served three interconnected purposes: punishment, deterrence and incapacitation. The deprivation of liberty was meant to communicate clearly that serious wrongdoing carries serious consequences. This was not about revenge, but about enforcing moral boundaries.
Restorative justice, in its truest form, plays an important role in correcting overly punitive approaches to punishment. However, when rehabilitation is pursued in a manner that diminishes accountability, the law’s deterrent effect is weakened.
Given the public reaction to these appearances, it is necessary to ask what signal is sent to law-abiding citizens when those convicted of serious crimes appear to resume public life without clear or proportionate consequence.
It is also important to recognise that restorative justice frameworks in law do not abolish punishment. Rather, they reframe its purpose.
Article 10(3) of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) states:
“The penitentiary system shall comprise treatment of prisoners the essential aim of which shall be their reformation and social rehabilitation.”
Similarly, the UN Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners, revised in 2015 and known as the Nelson Mandela Rules, emphasise dignity, rehabilitation and preparation for reintegration.
Crucially, however, these instruments do not require the erasure of moral accountability, nor do they mandate the public restoration of social privilege while wounds remain open.
Rehabilitation is a process, not a one-day spectacle. Reintegration must be earned, gradual and sensitive to context, particularly in cases such as those mentioned.
The Mandela Rules stress individualised sentence planning, risk assessment and respect for victims’ experiences. They do not compel authorities to ignore the emotional and psychological impact of offenders’ public visibility on victims and society.
CULTURAL CONTEXT AND COLLECTIVE MEMORY
Eswatini is not a vast or anonymous society. We are intimate, relational and communal. As the Siswati saying goes, ‘licalalembula ingubo lingene’ — crime often occurs in moments of weakness. The nation understands this. That is why genuine remorse and rehabilitation matter.
But our functioning as a close-knit society also deepens our pain. Offenders are not distant or unknown; they are neighbours, relatives and, in some cases, former leaders.
When people convicted of serious crimes appear at national ceremonies meant to reflect unity, dignity and moral order, that act carries a far deeper meaning. It will not be shocking to hear people boasting of how easily they can commit crime knowing their social life will not be affected.
For families still grieving husbands, sons, brothers and fathers, such appearances can feel like salt poured into unhealed wounds. Justice must not only be legal; it must be felt and exercised with compassion and conscience.
I believe this failure to feel the pain of the people lies at the heart of the public outcry. It appeared, to many, that an institution had lost touch with the lived reality of those it serves.
INSTITUTIONAL CONSCIENCE AND MORAL JUDGMENT
Institutions, like individuals, must exercise conscience. Rehabilitation does not require the suspension of moral discernment.
For it to succeed, it demands judgment, timing and empathy. Allowing high-profile individuals convicted of extreme violence to appear publicly at sacred national events may be legally defensible, but it is morally insensitive.
It fails to recognise that trauma does not move according to legal timelines and that some wounds take years — even generations — to heal.
True restorative justice does not centre the offender alone. It seeks to restore relationships, including the relationship between the State and its people. When victims feel unseen, unheard or retraumatised, restoration has failed.
THE RISK OF NORMALISING CRIMINALITY
A further concern that demands attention is what, then, serves to deter crime if conviction no longer carries visible consequence.
When society appears to suggest that even the most serious offences do not meaningfully disrupt social participation, the moral authority of the law is diminished.
Restorative justice was never meant to suggest that life simply continues as normal after murder or violent crime. Its purpose is to encourage responsibility, remorse, restitution and real change.
When applied without clear limits, it risks sending a dangerous message — that serious crime is compatible with full social acceptance without proper moral accountability.
TOWARDS A BALANCED APPLICATION
None of this is an argument against restorative justice itself. Again, I reiterate, it is an argument for applying it properly.
Rehabilitation must be graduated, contextual and victim-centred. Certain privileges should be restored privately before they are restored publicly. National and public ceremonies demand a higher threshold of sensitivity.
One truly hopes that HMCS will relook at how such reintegrative measures can be applied without weakening the justice system or disregarding how victims perceive the whole exercise.
International law allows discretion. It does not require correctional authorities to ignore public trauma. If anything, it requires them to act with careful restraint where rehabilitation involves sensitive cases.
In the matter under discussion, my view is that this was a case of too much, too soon.
CONCLUSION
With that said, restorative justice remains essential to a humane and forward-looking society. But when applied without empathy, context and moral judgment, it can cause harm rather than healing.
Real justice should be all-encompassing and should help wounds heal, not reopen them. Rehabilitation should bring real change, not confusion or national shock.
Institutions responsible for correcting behaviour must act with conscience, restraint and humanity.
Only then can restorative justice truly restore not just offenders, but the nation as a whole.
Until next week,
God bless!
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