The so-called “Carthage land” case now extends far beyond the personal situation of Ezzeddine Bach Chaouch. Beyond the legal fate of an 88-year-old man—a former Minister of Culture, historian, and internationally renowned archaeologist—it highlights several systemic failures that raise profound questions about the functioning of the Tunisian justice system and, more broadly, the evolution of the rule of law over the past several years.

This is in no way intended to prejudge the guilt or innocence of the defendants. That responsibility rests exclusively with the trial courts. However, it is legitimate to question the circumstances under which the prosecutions were initiated, the use of pretrial detention, the interpretation of criminal law, and the consequences that such practices have on the Tunisian government as a whole.

Pretrial detention that feels like a premature punishment

The first question concerns the issuance of a detention warrant against an 88-year-old man who is seriously ill, dependent on constant respiratory assistance, and unable to move on his own.

In all democracies that respect fundamental rights, pretrial detention remains an exceptional measure. It is permitted only when there is a clearly demonstrated need for it: to prevent a suspect from fleeing, to prevent pressure being exerted on witnesses, to prevent the destruction of evidence, or to put an end to a particularly serious disturbance.

However, none of these criteria appear to be truly met in this case. The events date back more than a decade. The individuals involved have long been identified. The administrative documents are in the hands of the courts. As for the risk of a bedridden man on life support fleeing, this is more of a theoretical hypothesis than an objective assessment.

The fact that he was released just a few days after his incarceration raises further questions. If his health ultimately justified his release, why was his arrest necessary in the first place? This contradiction fuels doubts about whether the deprivation of liberty was truly necessary.

Article 96: The Criminalization of Public Action

To understand this case, we must turn to Article 96 of the Tunisian Penal Code, a provision that is emblematic of the fight against corruption but also one of the most controversial in contemporary Tunisian criminal law.

The objective of this article is entirely legitimate. It aims to punish public officials who use their positions to secure an undue advantage or intentionally cause harm to the government. In a country marked by the abuses of the former regime, such a measure was essential to protect public funds and restore confidence in institutions.

But experience has gradually revealed the unintended consequences of a broad interpretation of this text.

For many years, Article 96 was applied in such a way that the line between administrative misconduct, an error of judgment, and a criminal offense gradually became blurred.

However, these concepts are based on profoundly different legal rationales.

An administrative decision may be open to question. It may be economically questionable. It may even result in financial loss.

But that does not necessarily mean that it stems from fraudulent intent.

Criminal law is not intended to punish management errors or questionable administrative decisions. It punishes intentional conduct motivated by fraud, corruption, or the pursuit of personal gain.

This confusion has given rise to a phenomenon that is now well known in Tunisia: the “fear of signing.”

For more than a decade, ministers, secretaries of state, governors, chief executive officers, mayors, engineers, general managers, local government presidents, and senior civil servants have gradually become reluctant to fully exercise their responsibilities.

Why make a decision today if it could be reinterpreted ten or fifteen years from now, in light of new expertise, a change in public policy, or a new political context?

This legal uncertainty has profoundly affected the functioning of the government.

Investments were delayed. Public procurement contracts were put on hold. Infrastructure projects were postponed. Decisions were constantly passed from one office to another.

Gradually, a genuine culture of administrative inaction has taken hold, in which inaction appears less risky than the normal exercise of one’s responsibilities.

This paralysis is one of the highest costs of overreliance on criminal law in public administration.

Aware of these abuses, the Tunisian legislature has revised Article 96. The reform reduced the penalties incurred and, above all, strengthened the requirements regarding the element of intent. From now on, a conviction requires not only that harm be caused to the government, but also proof that the public official deliberately used his or her position to obtain an undue advantage or to cause harm.

This development reflects a fundamental principle: a management error, a questionable judgment, or a contested administrative decision are not, in and of themselves, sufficient to constitute a criminal offense.

The Bach Chaouch Case: An Illustration of the Excesses of Criminalizing Administrative Action

It is precisely in this regard that the Bach Chaouch case raises many questions.

The allegations relate to a complex real estate transaction that is part of a series of municipal deliberations, administrative decisions, and supervisory actions spanning several decades.

According to several legal experts, including former administrative judge Ahmed Souab, the document signed in 2012 did not constitute an independent decision but rather the implementation of administrative commitments made several years earlier and duly approved by the competent authorities.

If this analysis were to be accepted, a fundamental question would arise: Can a person who merely carried out an administrative decision that has become final be held criminally liable?

Moreover, where is the element of intent required by Article 96?

The case file contains no evidence of personal enrichment, embezzlement, or an organized corruption scheme.

The debate seems to center primarily on the assessment of a piece of land’s value and on the legal interpretation of a past administrative action.

However, a disagreement among experts regarding the value of a property—no matter how significant—cannot, on its own, turn an administrative decision into a criminal offense.

This development would make the criminal court the permanent arbiter of administrative action, at the risk of calling into question—several years after their adoption—decisions made in good faith as part of proper administrative procedures.

The Selection of Responsibilities That Raises Questions

Another weakness in the case lies in the determination of the defendants.

If the irregularity stems from the municipal deliberations that authorized the operation, why focus the prosecution on those responsible for carrying it out several years later?

Conversely, if the decisive act is the one from 2012, how can we ignore the numerous administrative approvals that took place prior to that?

This selection inevitably fuels a sense of inconsistency and raises further questions about the criteria used to decide whether to pursue charges.

The Bach Chaouch case is part of a broader context marked by a surge in prosecutions targeting journalists, lawyers, judges, politicians, labor union leaders, and civil society activists, as well as former ministers and high-ranking government officials.

Taken individually, each of these cases is, of course, subject to the courts’ discretionary judgment.

But as they pile up, they eventually give rise to legitimate concern.

When criminal law becomes the primary tool for reviewing past administrative decisions, when pretrial detention becomes increasingly commonplace, and when public officials are prosecuted years after leaving office for decisions made within a collective institutional framework, citizens’ confidence in the impartiality of the justice system is inevitably at risk of eroding.

Yet this trust is the most important asset of a judicial institution.

A call for digital literacy and humanity

Finally, this case serves as a reminder that respect for human dignity remains an obligation incumbent upon every judicial authority.

The United Nations Mandela Rules require special protection for older adults or seriously ill persons who are deprived of their liberty.

The image of an 88-year-old former minister being pulled out of his hospital bed before being quickly released will remain one of the most striking symbols of this case.

The justice system is certainly measured by its ability to prosecute offenders, but also by its ability to preserve the dignity of those it prosecutes.

The Ezzeddine Bach Chaouch case is now much more than just a land dispute. It has become a test for the Tunisian justice system.

The fight against corruption is an indisputable requirement of democracy. However, it must not lead to the criminalization of administrative actions, the establishment of a permanent presumption of guilt against public officials, or the use of pretrial detention as a routine tool in criminal proceedings.

The true strength of a state governed by the rule of law lies not in the number of arrest warrants it issues, but in its ability to distinguish fraud from error, corruption from administrative discretion, and criminal liability from political or administrative liability.

Only on this condition will the justice system preserve what constitutes its true authority: the trust of citizens, based on independence, proportionality, and unconditional respect for fundamental rights.