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The image is unremarkable at first glance: two lawyers - Richard Naidu and Martin Daubney - standing together after a week in court. They are on the same side of the case, appearing for Manoa Kamikamica and Biman Prasad. There is nothing improper in that. Counsel work closely, often intensively, and a photograph at the end of a demanding hearing week is, in itself, entirely ordinary.
Indeed, it would be surprising if such a photograph did not exist.
But once the image is placed into the public domain, accompanied by commentary, hashtags, and an open thread of responses, it ceases to be a private memento. It becomes part of the public life of a live case.
That is where the difficulty begins.
The post is framed in a tone that is informal, even celebratory - “what a week” - with references to “contempt” and “injunction”. There is nothing expressly said about the merits, no disclosure of confidential material, no overt attempt to influence the court.
Yet the context matters: these are ongoing High Court proceedings, with rulings pending. In such a setting, the profession has traditionally exercised a degree of restraint, not because it is compelled in every instance by rule, but because the appearance of detachment from the contest is part of counsel’s discipline.
The photograph itself does not undermine that discipline. The surrounding engagement begins to test it.
What is striking is not the image, but the commentary it attracts and the company it keeps. Members of the legal team appear in the thread. More notably, a sitting Minister, Filimoni Vosarogo, joins the exchange, greeted not as a distant public figure but with familiarity - “you were one of my lawyers too”. Again, there is nothing unlawful in this. The legal profession is small; relationships overlap; former clients become colleagues, and colleagues become counsel in shared causes.
But in the midst of active litigation, particularly litigation that already raises questions about institutional independence, the optics shift.
The comments themselves reinforce a tone that edges away from professional neutrality: “keep on fighting”, “good job you and Martin”, “too much power in one pic”. These are the kinds of remarks common to social media, but they sit uneasily when attached to counsel engaged in proceedings that are yet to be determined. They transform the post, however unintentionally, into a public-facing narrative of contest and momentum, rather than a quiet record of professional collaboration.
None of this amounts to misconduct. It does not invalidate proceedings, nor does it establish bias or impropriety. But it does something subtler, and, in a constitutional sense, more important.
It narrows the distance that is ordinarily maintained between the courtroom and the public arena, advocacy and commentary, professional role and social display. In ordinary cases, that may pass without notice. In cases of this magnitude, where the conduct of institutions, the validity of appointments, and the fairness of prosecutions are all under scrutiny, the margin for such narrowing is much smaller.
The photograph, then, is not the problem. It is a reminder.
A reminder that in high-stakes litigation, it is often not what is done, but how it is seen, that carries the greater consequence.
Indeed, it would be surprising if such a photograph did not exist.
But once the image is placed into the public domain, accompanied by commentary, hashtags, and an open thread of responses, it ceases to be a private memento. It becomes part of the public life of a live case.
That is where the difficulty begins.
The post is framed in a tone that is informal, even celebratory - “what a week” - with references to “contempt” and “injunction”. There is nothing expressly said about the merits, no disclosure of confidential material, no overt attempt to influence the court.
Yet the context matters: these are ongoing High Court proceedings, with rulings pending. In such a setting, the profession has traditionally exercised a degree of restraint, not because it is compelled in every instance by rule, but because the appearance of detachment from the contest is part of counsel’s discipline.
The photograph itself does not undermine that discipline. The surrounding engagement begins to test it.
What is striking is not the image, but the commentary it attracts and the company it keeps. Members of the legal team appear in the thread. More notably, a sitting Minister, Filimoni Vosarogo, joins the exchange, greeted not as a distant public figure but with familiarity - “you were one of my lawyers too”. Again, there is nothing unlawful in this. The legal profession is small; relationships overlap; former clients become colleagues, and colleagues become counsel in shared causes.
But in the midst of active litigation, particularly litigation that already raises questions about institutional independence, the optics shift.
The comments themselves reinforce a tone that edges away from professional neutrality: “keep on fighting”, “good job you and Martin”, “too much power in one pic”. These are the kinds of remarks common to social media, but they sit uneasily when attached to counsel engaged in proceedings that are yet to be determined. They transform the post, however unintentionally, into a public-facing narrative of contest and momentum, rather than a quiet record of professional collaboration.
None of this amounts to misconduct. It does not invalidate proceedings, nor does it establish bias or impropriety. But it does something subtler, and, in a constitutional sense, more important.
It narrows the distance that is ordinarily maintained between the courtroom and the public arena, advocacy and commentary, professional role and social display. In ordinary cases, that may pass without notice. In cases of this magnitude, where the conduct of institutions, the validity of appointments, and the fairness of prosecutions are all under scrutiny, the margin for such narrowing is much smaller.
The photograph, then, is not the problem. It is a reminder.
A reminder that in high-stakes litigation, it is often not what is done, but how it is seen, that carries the greater consequence.
