The right to bail is a cornerstone of modern criminal justice, representing one of the clearest protections against the misuse of state authority.[1]It ensures that individuals accused of crimes are not subjected to unnecessary or prolonged detention, reinforcing the presumption of innocence that is central to a fair legal system.[2]Bail is more than just a procedural step; it embodies the principle that freedom should be the default condition, and that detention before trial is a serious measure that should only be used in exceptional circumstances.[3]By emphasising liberty over confinement, bail serves both a practical and a symbolic purpose: it protects personal dignity and helps prevent the social, economic, and psychological harms associated with pre-trial detention.

Across different jurisdictions, the technical rules and conditions for granting bail may vary, reflecting local legal traditions, court procedures, and social contexts. Yet despite these differences, the underlying philosophy is remarkably consistent internationally: legal systems and human rights frameworks alike recognise that pre-trial liberty is the norm, and detention the exception.[4]International Instruments such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights establish clear standards requiring that deprivation of liberty must meet the tests of legality, necessity, and proportionality.[5]The Universal Declaration of Human Rights affirms that every person is presumed innocent until proven guilty and has the right to reasonable guarantees for a fair trial.

In Uganda, the right to bail is firmly rooted in the Constitution and supported by laws and judicial practice.[6]The 1995 Constitution guarantees every person accused of a crime the right to apply for bail and emphasises the presumption of innocence, ensuring that no one is treated as guilty before a court has made a formal determination. This principle is further reinforced by statutory frameworks, which guide how bail applications should be considered. These frameworks ask courts to weigh factors like the seriousness of the offence, the likelihood of the accused fleeing, and the potential impact on witnesses or ongoing investigations. The goal is to strike a balance: protecting the rights of the accused while safeguarding the interests of justice. Despite these safeguards, the reality on the ground is often more complicated. Many accused persons face long delays before their bail applications are heard, sometimes spending months in pre-trial detention.[7] Overcrowded prisons make the situation worse, creating harsh living conditions and increasing health risks. Judicial discretion can also vary widely, leading to inconsistent outcomes across different courts or regions.[8]Beyond procedural issues, social and economic inequalities influence bail outcomes. Those who cannot afford bail or lack access to legal counsel are far more likely to remain in detention, highlighting the gap between legal rights on paper and what happens in practice.

Looking at Uganda’s bail system alongside international standards offers both reassurance and a roadmap for improvement. International human rights instruments, like the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, make it clear that pre-trial detention should only be used as a last resort and must always meet standards of necessity and proportionality.[9]While Uganda’s laws reflect these principles in theory, practical challenges often prevent full compliance. Addressing these gaps could involve clearer bail guidelines, training for magistrates and judges, wider access to legal aid, and non-custodial alternatives for those awaiting trial. Strengthening these areas would help ensure that Uganda not only meets constitutional and human rights standards but also treats accused persons fairly and humanely while the justice process unfolds. 

Normative Basis of the Right to Bail

1. Presumption of Innocence

The presumption of innocence is the starting point for any discussion about bail. It’s a simple yet profound idea that just because someone has been accused doesn’t mean they are guilty. This principle is both moral and legal — it guides judges, lawyers, and even society in treating the accused fairly. Internationally, this is enshrined in Article 14(2) [10]  of the ICCPR, which guarantees that everyone charged with a criminal offence is presumed innocent until proven guilty, and in Article 11(1).[11] In Uganda, this principle is constitutionally guaranteed under Article 28(3)(a) of the Constitution, which clearly states that a person charged with an offence is presumed innocent until proved guilty or until they plead guilty.[12]³Courts in Uganda often reference this when deciding whether to grant bail, particularly in cases where the accused has spent long periods on remand. For example, in Mugarura v Uganda,[13] the High Court emphasised that denying bail simply because the alleged offence was serious would violate the constitutional guarantee of presumption of innocence.[14]

What this means in human terms is that bail gives the accused the chance to live their life, work, study, and take care of family while the court determines guilt. It prevents the system from punishing someone before they are legally proven guilty. 

2. Protection Against Arbitrary Detention

Bail also exists to stop arbitrary detention, being locked up for no real reason. This became a global concern after widespread abuse of state power in the 20th century. International law, particularly Article 9 of the ICCPR, makes it clear that everyone has the right not to be arbitrarily detained.[15]The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights reflects the same idea under Article 6.[16]In Uganda, Article 23(6)(a) guarantees the right to apply for bail after arrest, ensuring that detention is not automatic.[17]Courts use this provision to prevent people from being kept in prison for months or years without trial, something that happens when cases get delayed or there aren’t enough resources to move trials along. In 2025, the High Court granted bail to a person who had been on remand for over 240 days without committal, citing constitutional protections against arbitrary detention.[18]

Put simply, this pillar ensures that the state must always have a valid reason for keeping someone locked up. Bail acts as a checkpoint, forcing authorities to justify detention or let the person go. It’s the law’s way of saying: ‘We cannot assume guilt or punish you before your day in court’

3. Proportionality — Limiting Detention to What’s Necessary

Even when there is a valid reason to restrict someone’s liberty, courts must ensure that any restriction is proportional. Proportionality is all about balance: it requires that limitations on freedom are necessary, reasonable, and the least intrusive way to achieve a legitimate purpose. Judges weigh whether detention is truly the only option to protect public safety, guarantee the accused’s appearance at trial, or prevent interference with witnesses or evidence. In many cases, less restrictive measures — such as regular check-ins with authorities, bail bonds or surety, and movement restrictions—can achieve the same goals without putting someone behind bars.[19]In practical terms, proportionality prevents unnecessary pre-trial detention. It allows judges to say: ‘You need to comply with certain rules, but you don’t need to be locked up while we sort this out.’ When combined with the presumption of innocence and protection against arbitrary detention, proportionality creates a coherent framework that guides courts in applying bail fairly.[20]Together, these principles ensure that bail is not just a procedural step but a tool that respects human dignity, balances individual freedom with public safety, and upholds the integrity of the justice system.[21]

2. Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) 1948 was the first global statement affirming that personal liberty must be safeguarded through clear procedural protections.[22]Article 9 explicitly prohibits arbitrary arrest and detention, while Articles 10 and 11 protect fair trial rights and the presumption of innocence, implicitly discouraging pre-trial punishment.[23]Although the UDHR is not legally binding, it has significant persuasive authority. Courts across Africa, Europe, Asia, and the Americas regularly reference it to interpret broad or vague constitutional provisions, or to evaluate the fairness of criminal procedures.[24]In Uganda, the UDHR has been cited to reinforce judicial reasoning on liberty and due process, especially in cases where domestic law is silent or ambiguous. For example, Ugandan courts have drawn on their principles to support decisions granting bail or limiting pre-trial detention, ensuring that constitutional guarantees of freedom and the presumption of innocence are meaningfully upheld.[25]

Comparative Perspectives from Commonwealth Jurisdictions

Because Uganda shares a common law heritage, the way other Commonwealth countries handle bail has had a big influence on how it’s applied at home.[26]Looking at these countries doesn’t just offer theory; it gives practical lessons on how courts can strike the right balance between protecting individual freedom, keeping the public safe, and respecting the presumption of innocence.[27]These Principles aren’t abstract; they guide judges in real decisions about whether someone should be released before trial and under what conditions, like reporting regularly to authorities, posting sureties, or restricting travel.[28]

Experiences from the United Kingdom, Kenya, and South Africa show how structured, rights-focused approaches can prevent unnecessary pre-trial detention while still ensuring the accused shows up for court.[29]By looking at these examples, Ugandan courts can interpret their own constitution more effectively, make decisions based on evidence, and ensure that detention is truly an exception, not the default.[30]This approach helps embed fairness, transparency, and respect for human dignity into everyday justice, so that bail isn’t just a legal formality but a meaningful safeguard for people’s freedom.

United Kingdom

In the UK, the Bail Act 1976 sets the expectation that anyone accused of a crime should start off free, with bail as the default position. Basically, you’re presumed innocent until proven guilty, so being charged doesn’t automatically mean you go to jail while waiting for your trial. Courts can only refuse bail if there’s solid evidence that detention is genuinely necessary, like if there’s a real risk that the person might skip town, mess with witnesses, or commit another crime.

What makes the UK system stand out is that judges have to explain their reasoning in detail whenever they say no to bail. This isn’t just bureaucracy; it’s a way to keep things transparent and make sure no one is locked up arbitrarily. Over time, UK courts have made it clear that pre-trial detention should always be the exception, not the default, which reflects a bigger principle: freedom comes first, and taking it away requires careful justification.

In real life, this approach means someone facing charges can continue with school, work, or family life instead of being stuck in a cell, unless there’s a concrete, evidence-backed concern that releasing them would jeopardise justice or public safety. It’s about balancing fairness with practical realities: protecting the public while making sure accused people aren’t punished before a court has decided whether they’re guilty. This framework also encourages judges to consider alternative measures, like check-ins, reporting requirements, or sureties, before resorting to detention, basically asking, ‘Can we keep everyone safe without putting someone in jail unnecessarily?’

The philosophy behind this system is really simple but powerful: liberty first, detention only when necessary, and every decision has to be justified and proportional. For anyone accused, it’s a way of saying, ‘WE TRUST THE SYSTEM TO FIGURE THINGS OUT, AND WE TRUST YOU TO STAY OUT OF TROUBLE IN THE MEANTIME.’

Kenya

Kenya’s Constitution is pretty clear on bail with Article 49, saying you can only be denied it for ‘compelling reasons.’ Basically, judges can’t just assume someone’s going to run or cause trouble because of the type of crime or because people are upset about it. The Supreme Court has been super clear: if bail is going to be denied, the reason has to be real, specific to that person, backed by evidence, and directly connected to the case. Courts in Kenya also make sure that bail decisions are proportional. That means detention should only happen when necessary. Judges are expected to think about alternatives first, like sureties, reporting requirements, or movement restrictions, before locking someone up. Take the case of Republic v Mohamed & Others[31]: the court said public outrage or how serious the crime was alone couldn’t justify keeping someone in jail. Every accused person has to be looked at individually.

The whole point is to make bail actually fair and human. It’s not just a tick-box on a form. Bail protects people from being unnecessarily locked up while their case is sorted. It lets them keep living their lives, going to work, school, or caring for family while the court figures out what’s real. Freedom is the starting point, not a privilege you hope to get.

South Africa

In South Africa, bail is guided by both the Criminal Procedure Act and the decisions of the Constitutional Court, creating a system that strongly emphasises a rights-based approach. Courts are required to impose the least restrictive conditions necessary to ensure an accused person attends trial, while always respecting the presumption of innocence.[32]This means that detention should never be the first option or used as a form of punishment before guilt is determined.[33]Judges in South Africa must carefully weigh the accused’s personal liberty against public interest. Before resorting to detention, they are expected to consider alternatives such as sureties, regular reporting to authorities, movement restrictions, or other conditions designed to manage risk without unnecessarily locking someone up. The system acknowledges that detention has real-life consequences not just for the accused, but also for their families and communities. By factoring in these human impacts, courts create a process that is more humane, proportional, and balanced.

South African jurisprudence also emphasises transparency and reasoning. Courts must clearly explain why detention is necessary, what risks are present, and why no lesser measures will suffice. This approach prevents arbitrary decisions, reinforces accountability, and aligns pre-trial detention with both constitutional rights and international human rights standards. Over time, these principles have helped shape a bail system that respects individual freedom while maintaining public safety, demonstrating how legal frameworks can balance liberty, responsibility, and fairness in practice.

UN Standards and Soft Law

Several non-binding international instruments also help shape global standards for bail and pre-trial detention. The Body of Principles for the Protection of All Persons under Any Form of Detention (1988), for instance, encourages release pending trial unless there are strong, evidence-based reasons for continued detention.[34]This principle reinforces the idea that pre-trial liberty should be the default, and detention should remain an exception. The United Nations Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners[35]draw attention to the real-world risks of unnecessary pre-trial detention, including overcrowded facilities, poor living conditions, and heightened vulnerability to abuse or illness. By highlighting these dangers, the Rules underscore that pre-trial detention is not just a legal question but a human-rights concern.

Although these instruments are technically soft law and not legally binding, they have significant influence. Courts and lawmakers often use them to interpret constitutional guarantees, guide judicial reforms, and inform international monitoring and reporting on detention practices.[36]They provide a global benchmark that informs national systems like Uganda’s, ensuring that pre-trial detention is always applied in a proportionate, transparent, and rights-respecting way.

Relevance to Ugandan Practice

Uganda’s constitutional and legal framework, particularly Article 23(6) [37] of the Constitution, is broadly aligned with global standards on bail and pre-trial liberty. Ugandan courts have consistently emphasised several key principles: decisions must be individualised, detention must be proportionate, judicial oversight should be prompt, and the presumption of liberty must be respected. Under both international and regional norms, several standards are particularly relevant:

In Uganda, being held for more than 48 hours without being charged or seen by a judge isn’t just bad form, it’s straight-up illegal. Both ICCPR Article 9(3) and the African Charter Article 6 make it clear that anyone arrested needs to either be charged or released quickly.[38]Basically, the law is saying: ‘You can’t just lock someone up for no reason while we figure things out.’When it comes to bail, courts can’t just throw someone in detention because of vague worries like their ‘orientation’ or general ‘community ties.’ That kind of reasoning doesn’t fly with international standards or even Uganda’s own rules. Bail decisions need to be based on real, concrete risks, like if someone might skip town, mess with evidence, or pose a real threat to others, and judges should always think about less restrictive options first, like reporting requirements, sureties, or movement restrictions.

Uganda also has ways to fight unfair detention. People can go for habeas corpus or appeal to the High Court, which acts as a fast-track check to make sure detention is legal, justified, and fair.[39]These tools make sure pre-trial detention stays the exception, not the rule, and that courts don’t just toss people behind bars for convenience. In real life, this system is about keeping freedom first while balancing public safety and the interests of justice. It’s basically the law saying: ‘You’re innocent until proven guilty, and you deserve to keep your life moving while we sort this out.’ In practice, this framework seeks to ensure that detention remains an exception rather than the rule, that courts carefully consider alternatives to pre-trial imprisonment, and that individuals’ fundamental rights are protected while balancing the needs of justice and public safety. By aligning domestic law with international and regional standards, Uganda demonstrates a commitment to fairness, proportionality, and human dignity in its criminal justice system.

Recent Works & Developments on Bail in Uganda

A 2023 study by Avocats Sans Frontières (ASF) looked at how pre-trial detention and bail actually work across Uganda, talking to detainees, community members, police, and legal-aid providers in districts like Kampala, Gulu, Lamwo, and Arua. The findings paint a vivid picture: while the law promises fundamental rights—like the presumption of innocence, protection from arbitrary detention, and proportionality in restricting liberty—these principles often don’t translate into everyday reality for most accused people.

The report shows that a huge number of arrests end with people stuck in remand for long periods, sometimes months, without proper legal advice or even a chance to apply for bail. Many detainees didn’t know they had a right to request bail, which is a core safeguard meant to prevent unnecessary deprivation of liberty. This gap between legal theory and practice directly contributes to Uganda’s overcrowded prisons, where awaiting-trial detainees face poor conditions and heightened vulnerability.

But the story doesn’t stop with numbers. ASF emphasises the human and social consequences of these gaps. Prolonged detention can destabilise families, especially for breadwinners or caretakers, deepen social inequalities, and hit vulnerable groups—like the poor, women, or politically marginalised—the hardest. In other words, bail isn’t just about the individual behind bars; it affects entire communities and reflects whether society is actually upholding justice and fairness.

By linking these everyday experiences to the foundational principles of bail, the study makes it clear that procedural delays and lack of awareness aren’t minor technical issues—they undermine human dignity, social trust, and confidence in the justice system. When bail is applied inconsistently or ignored, the justice system stops being a neutral protector of rights and instead becomes a source of social and political tension.

Ultimately, the ASF report underscores a simple truth: bail is meant to be a real shield, not just words in a law book. When it works as intended, it safeguards liberty, upholds the presumption of innocence, and ensures that detention remains an exception. When it fails, the consequences ripple far beyond the individual, shaking public trust, deepening inequalities, and highlighting the urgent need for reforms that bring practice in line with Uganda’s Constitution and international human-rights standards.

The Effectiveness of the Legal Framework that Regulates Bail in the High Court of Uganda.

A fresh 2025 academic work, basically a law student's thesis, reviews how laws around bail are actually used in the High Court of Uganda. It digs into how often bail is granted or denied in serious or capital offence cases, and whether bail outcomes strike a balance between the accused’s rights and public security. It finds that although the High Court has broad discretion (especially in “serious offences”), recent rulings show bail is sometimes granted even in capital cases — but outcomes vary depending on the accused’s profile, the offence, and judicial interpretation. The thesis argues that this variability affects perceptions of fairness: for some accused persons, bail becomes a realistic possibility, for others, it stays out of reach. That raises questions about consistency, transparency, and impartiality, especially in sensitive or high‑stakes matters.

The Observatory for the Protection of Human Rights Defenders  

In April 2025, the High Court let human-rights lawyer Eron Kiiza out on bail after he’d been arrested in a politically charged case. Kiiza wasn’t just any lawyer; he was defending opposition figures, so his arrest grabbed attention from human-rights groups, media, and even international observers. His release wasn’t just a ‘legal win’; it was a signal that the courts still have to respect basic rights, even when politics is in the mix. This case shows that bail in Uganda isn’t just paperwork or court procedure; it’s deeply tied to politics, activism, and civic freedom. When someone like Kiiza is on remand, it’s not just about him: it sends a message to activists, lawyers, and everyday citizens about whether they can speak up without being silenced through detention. Delays or denials of bail in these situations can feel like the system is trying to intimidate people and shut down dissent.

The bigger picture? How courts handle bail in politically sensitive cases affects public trust. People notice whether justice is applied equally or if liberty depends on who you know, what you stand for, or your political connections. Kiiza’s release showed that fair bail still matters and that even in tense situations, the system can uphold due process and the presumption of innocence.

At the end of the day, bail isn’t just some legal technicality; it’s a litmus test for freedom, fairness, and whether the state actually respects human rights. It shows society whether everyone really gets a fair shot or if the rules only work for certain people. In Uganda, the way bail is handled for politically active individuals is like a live scoreboard for democracy, justice, and public trust in the courts. Every delay, denial, or arbitrary decision sends a message about who counts, whose rights matter, and how much the system can be trusted. Fair, transparent bail isn’t just about law—it’s about protecting dignity, defending civic space, and keeping the social contract alive.

Remand Overload, Political Cases & Bail Delays

In 2025, Justice Isaac Muwata of the High Court finally granted bail to a suspect charged with aggravated defilement after they had spent more than 240 days stuck on remand.[40]The ruling sent a clear message: the constitutional right to bail isn’t optional, it has to be respected. This case shows that even in serious charges, the courts can prioritise individual freedom, and it also highlights how sitting in remand for months is not just inconvenient; it can wreck someone’s life, separating them from family, jobs, school, and even their mental health.

But bail in Uganda isn’t always that straightforward. Later in 2025, the court adjourned bail rulings for 11 supporters of an opposition party, who had already been on remand for weeks. Lawyers raised alarms about their well-being, from limited medical access to poor prison conditions, while activists argued that the delays were unfair and unnecessary. These cases show how bail can be politicised, turning a legal right into a tool that sometimes reflects politics more than the law. When bail is delayed or denied without solid, evidence-based reasons, it undermines due process and the presumption of innocence, core principles that should guide every criminal case. And this isn’t just legal jargon; long pre-trial detention literally disrupts lives, keeps people stuck in overcrowded prisons, and adds unnecessary stress to their families and communities. Some groups feel the squeeze more than others. Young activists, political dissidents, and marginalised communities are often the ones stuck on remand the longest. When judges let political considerations sneak into bail decisions, it sends a signal that your freedom might depend on your political or social profile, not the facts of your case.

The effects of dodgy or delayed bail decisions go way beyond the person stuck in remand. When courts hold someone without solid, evidence-based reasons, it shakes public trust in the justice system. People start questioning whether the courts are actually fair, especially in politically charged cases. This isn’t just about one case; it can fuel frustration, discourage people from engaging in civic life, and even mess with social cohesion. Communities start feeling like the system plays favourites, punishing some while letting others slide. Bail in Uganda isn’t just a checkbox or boring legal step; it’s more like a mirror for the whole justice system, showing how the state balances freedom, public safety, and political pressure. How bail gets handled tells everyone whether the presumption of innocence really matters, and whether the law treats all citizens equally, no matter their politics, wealth, or social status.

Fair, transparent, and consistent bail practices are critical for protecting rights, keeping the courts legit, and making sure people actually trust the system. Arbitrary detention or politicised bail turns a tool that should protect freedom into a tool for control, punishing dissent, silencing opposition, or marginalising vulnerable groups.[41]A system that grants bail based on clear, consistent rules is showing that it values human dignity, freedom, and social stability. There’s also the real-life impact on remand facilities. Long pre-trial detention clogs prisons, worsens overcrowding, strains health services, and messes with families and communities.[42]By keeping bail decisions proportional, timely, and evidence-based, courts uphold the law while also sending a message that justice is fair, humane, and accountable.

Conclusion

To wrap it up, bail in Uganda isn’t just a legal formality; it’s a real test of fairness, freedom, and how much the justice system actually cares about people. When courts handle bail fairly and transparently, it shows that the system respects the presumption of innocence, equality, and human dignity. People can trust that their rights matter and that the law applies equally, no matter who they are or what their background is. On the flip side, when bail is delayed, denied without solid reasons, or influenced by politics, it exposes cracks in the system. Those stuck on remand, often young activists, political dissidents, or marginalised communities, face real-life consequences: time away from family, education, work, and community. At the same time, society begins to lose faith in the courts, feeling that the system favours some people over others. This isn’t just about individual cases; it affects how people see justice, civic engagement, and the state itself.

In that sense, bail acts as a mirror for Uganda’s justice system and society as a whole. It shows whether freedom, fairness, and human rights are actually being upheld or if they’re just ideals on paper. Getting bail right isn’t just about following the law, it’s about showing people that the system is fair, accountable, and humane. How the country treats those awaiting trial sends a clear message: the true measure of justice isn’t in statutes alone, it’s in how people experience it, day by day.

REFERENCES

Primary Legislation & International Instruments

Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, 1995.

Bail Act 1976 (UK).

Constitution of Kenya, 2010.

Criminal Procedure Act 51 of 1977 (South Africa).

International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (adopted 16 December 1966, entered into force 23 March 1976) UNTS vol 999, 171, arts 9, 9(3)–(4), 14(2).

Universal Declaration of Human Rights GA Res 217A (III), UN Doc A/810 (1948), arts 9–11.

African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (adopted 27 June 1981, entered into force 21 October 1986) OAU Doc CAB/LEG/67/3 rev 5, art 6.

UN Economic and Social Council, Body of Principles for the Protection of All Persons under Any Form of Detention or Imprisonment (1988) UN Doc E/RES/43/173, Principle 39.

UN Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners (‘Nelson Mandela Rules’) UN Doc A/RES/70/175 (2015).

Case Law

Mugarura v Uganda [2025] UGHCC 1092.

Justice Muwata High Court Bail Ruling [2025] Nile Post https://nilepost.co.ug/justice-law-and-order/263195/justice-muwata-reaffirms-right-to-mandatory-bail-in-landmark-ruling

R v Governor of Brixton Prison, ex parte Lloyd [1992] 1 AC 899 (HL).

R v Horseferry Road Magistrates’ Court, ex parte Bennett [1994] 1 AC 42 (HL).

Republic v Mohamed & Others [2019] Supreme Court of Kenya.

S v Dlamini; S v Dladla; S v Joubert; S v Schietekat 1999 (4) SA 623 (CC).

S v Makhanya [2007] ZACC 5.

Kakooza v Uganda [2022] UGHCC 511.

Reports, Manuals, and Commentaries

UN Human Rights Committee, General Comment No 35: Article 9 (Liberty and Security of Person) (2014) UN Doc CCPR/C/GC/35.

OHCHR, Training Manual on Human Rights Monitoring: Release on Bail (OHCHR 2004).

Human Rights Watch, Even Dead Bodies Must Work: Health, Hard Labour and Abuse in Ugandan Prisons (HRW 2011).

Avocats Sans Frontières, Knowledge, Attitudes, and Practices on Pre-Trial Detention in Uganda (2023).

S Ssenyonjo, Economic, Social and Cultural Rights in International Law: Contemporary Issues and Challenges (Oxford University Press 2016) 78–80.

S Peters, ‘The UDHR and Comparative Constitutional Interpretation’ (2018) 66 International & Comparative Law Quarterly 325.

[1] Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, 1995, Arts 23(6) and 28(3)(a).

[2] ICCPR (adopted 16 December 1966, entered into force 23 March 1976) UNTS vol 999, 171, Art 9(3)–(4).

[3] UN Human Rights Committee, General Comment No 35: Article 9 (Liberty and Security of Person) (2014) UN Doc CCPR/C/GC/35.

[4] African Charter on Human and Peoples' Rights (adopted 27 June 1981, entered into force 21 October 1986) OAU Doc CAB/LEG/67/3 rev 5, Art 6.

[5]OHCHR, Training Manual on Human Rights Monitoring: Release on Bail (OHCHR 2004); Human Rights Watch, Even Dead Bodies Must Work: Health, Hard Labour and Abuse in Ugandan Prisons (HRW 2011).

[6] Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, 1995, Arts 23(6) and 28(3)(a).

[7]Human Rights Watch, Even Dead Bodies Must Work: Health, Hard Labour and Abuse in Ugandan Prisons (HRW 2011).

[8] Ibid

[9] ICCPR (adopted 16 December 1966, entered into force 23 March 1976) UNTS vol 999, 171, Art 9(3)–(4); African Charter on Human and Peoples' Rights (adopted 27 June 1981, entered into force 21 October 1986) OAU Doc CAB/LEG/67/3 rev 5, Art 6.

[10]International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (adopted 16 December 1966, entered into force 23 March 1976) 999 UNTS 171, art 14(2).

[11] Universal Declaration of Human Rights GA Res 217A (III), UN Doc A/810 (1948), art 11(1).

[12] Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, 1995, art 28(3)(a).

[13]Mugarura v Uganda [2025] UGHCC 1092.

[14] International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights art 9.

[15] Ibid

[16] African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (adopted 27 June 1981, entered into force 21 October 1986) OAU Doc CAB/LEG/67/3 rev 5, art 6.

[17] Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, art 23(6)(a).

[18] Justice Muwata High Court Bail Ruling [2025] Nile Post https://nilepost.co.ug/justice-law-and-order/263195/justice-muwata-reaffirms-right-to-mandatory-bail-in-landmark-ruling

[19]UN Human Rights Committee, General Comment No 35: Article 9 (Liberty and Security of Person) (2014) CCPR/C/GC/35, para 36.

[20]Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, 1995, arts 23(6)(a) and 28(3)(a).

[21]Mugarura v Uganda [2025] UGHCC 1092; Justice Muwata High Court Bail Ruling [2025] Nile Post https://nilepost.co.ug/justice-law-and-order/263195/justice-muwata-reaffirms-right-to-mandatory-bail-in-landmark-ruling

[22]Universal Declaration of Human Rights GA Res 217A (III), UN Doc A/810 (1948).

[23] Ibid, arts 9, 10, 11.

[24]S Ssenyonjo, Economic, Social and Cultural Rights in International Law: Contemporary Issues and Challenges (Oxford University Press 2016) 78–80; S Peters, ‘The UDHR and Comparative Constitutional Interpretation’ (2018) 66 International & Comparative Law Quarterly 325.

[25]Mugarura v Uganda [2025] UGHCC 1092; Justice Muwata High Court Bail Ruling [2025] Nile Post https://nilepost.co.ug/justice-law-and-order/263195/justice-muwata-reaffirms-right-to-mandatory-bail-in-landmark-ruling

[26]S Ssenyonjo, Economic, Social and Cultural Rights in International Law: Contemporary Issues and Challenges (Oxford University Press 2016) 78–80.

[27] Bail Act 1976 (UK); Constitution of Kenya, art 49; Criminal Procedure Act 51 of 1977 (South Africa).

[28]R v Governor of Brixton Prison, ex parte Lloyd [1992] 1 AC 899 (HL); S v Dlamini; S v Dladla; S v Joubert; S v Schietekat 1999 (4) SA 623 (CC).

[29]Republic v Mohamed & Others [2019] Supreme Court of Kenya; R v Horseferry Road Magistrates’ Court, ex parte Bennett [1994] 1 AC 42 (HL).

[30]Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, 1995, arts 23(6)(a) and 28(3)(a); Mugarura v Uganda [2025] UGHCC 1092.

[31] Republic v Mohamed & Others [2019] Supreme Court of Kenya.

[32]S v Dlamini; S v Dladla; S v Joubert; S v Schietekat 1999 (4) SA 623 (CC).

[33] S v Makhanya [2007] ZACC 5.

[34] UN Economic and Social Council, Body of Principles for the Protection of All Persons under Any Form of Detention or Imprisonment (1988) UN Doc E/RES/43/173, Principle 39.

[35]UN Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners (‘Nelson Mandela Rules’) UN Doc A/RES/70/175 (2015).

[36] S Ssenyonjo, Economic, Social and Cultural Rights in International Law: Contemporary Issues and Challenges (Oxford University Press 2016) 78–80

[37] Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, 1995, art 23(6)

[38] International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) 1966, art 9(3); African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights 1981, art 6.

[39]Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, 1995, art 50; Kakooza v Uganda [2022] UGHCC 511.

[40]Muwata J, High Court of Uganda, 2025, Aggravated Defilement Bail Case.

[41]

[42] Avocats Sans Frontières, Knowledge, Attitudes, and Practices on Pre-Trial Detention in Uganda, 2023.