Serena Fraiese argues that transitional justice rarely collapses in one dramatic moment. In Guatemala and Tunisia, formal courts and legal bodies remain in place, but political actors have gradually repurposed them from within. This process of 'captured justice' weakens accountability, shrinks civic space, and makes the pursuit of truth, justice, and reparations increasingly difficult
Political science tends to treat transitional justice as a matter of institutional design. Do states create the right courts, truth commissions, reparations programmes, and oversight bodies? But that framing misses a growing problem. Justice institutions do not need to disappear to stop delivering justice. They can remain formally intact while states repurpose them to protect power, block scrutiny, and wear down victims’ claims.
Recent research on transitional justice and democratic decline points in this direction. Yet the political science debate still tends to treat institutional survival as evidence of institutional health. Courts may continue operating, legal procedures may remain in force, and accountability mechanisms may formally exist, while their capacity to challenge power steadily erodes. Recent scholarship has also challenged the assumption that accountability mechanisms, once established, naturally reinforce democratic governance. Democratic decline can reverse that expectation by exposing courts, prosecutors, and oversight bodies to new forms of political pressure and institutional capture. I call this process captured justice: the gradual repurposing of accountability institutions so that they survive on paper but become less able to deliver truth, justice, reparations, and guarantees of non-recurrence.
Guatemala offers a sharp example. The country’s anti-impunity drive once seemed to show that it was possible to challenge even entrenched networks. Work around the International Commission against Impunity in Guatemala (CICIG) helped expose corruption and strengthen prosecutorial action. But success triggered backlash. As Amnesty International has documented, former prosecutors, judges, former CICIG staff, and human rights defenders have faced harassment and criminalisation for their role in anti-impunity efforts. This is not simply a rule-of-law story. It is about how justice can be turned against those trying to make it work. The consequences reach directly into transitional justice. The Inter-American Commission on Human Rights and regional human rights organisations have warned that transitional justice proceedings have increasingly faced obstruction, delay, and political resistance.
When independent institutions become increasingly costly or risky to use against powerful interests, democratic backsliding often follows
That matters because accountability does not fail only when there are no laws, no courts, or no victims demanding justice. It also fails when access to the forum is selectively narrowed, when legal delay becomes political strategy, and when those pursuing truth are pushed into exile, exhaustion, or silence. Research on CICIG suggests that accountability gains depend not only on institutional design but also on the ability of prosecutors and judges to operate independently from political interference. Once that autonomy weakens, formal institutions may survive while their capacity to challenge entrenched power declines.
Guatemala illustrates a broader lesson. Democratic backsliding does not always begin with the abolition of institutions. Sometimes it begins when institutions remain formally independent but become increasingly costly or risky to use against powerful interests.
Tunisia shows a different pattern. For years, it was a rare case in the region where an ambitious transitional justice process had opened institutional space for truth-telling, reparations, and debate over past abuses. Work on Tunisia’s victim regions and reparations captured that earlier promise. That promise extended beyond legal accountability. Many expected that transitional justice would address regional inequalities and forms of marginalisation that had helped fuel demands for political change. The weakening of accountability institutions therefore affects not only judicial outcomes but also broader efforts to rebuild trust between citizens and the state. But since President Kais Saied’s 2021 power grab, the wider political setting has changed sharply. Scholarship on Tunisia’s executive consolidation helps explain why resistance has struggled: the executive tightened control over key institutions while public frustration weakened collective pushback.
As judicial independence weakens and civic space contracts, the conditions that make accountability possible become increasingly fragile
That shift has direct implications for justice. Human Rights Watch’s World Report 2025 states that the government has systematically undermined judicial independence. The International Commission of Jurists has similarly warned about threats to judicial autonomy. Human Rights Watch has also described a drastic closure of civic space affecting activists, lawyers, and civil society groups. A recent joint statement coordinated by the International Commission of Jurists points to escalating attacks on the legal profession, judicial independence, and civil society. Institutions created to address past abuses have not simply disappeared. Yet as judicial independence weakens and civic space contracts, the conditions that make accountability possible become increasingly fragile. Transitional justice does not necessarily end with a formal repeal. It becomes harder to pursue because the institutions surrounding it no longer protect contestation, participation, or independent judgement.
This is why captured justice deserves more attention in political science. It helps explain why accountability can stall even where constitutions, courts, and legal procedures still exist. The concept also speaks to wider debates about democratic backsliding. Much of the literature focuses on elections, constitutions, or executive power. Transitional justice adds another dimension: what happens when institutions designed to confront past abuses are gradually absorbed into projects of political control? The key question is not only whether institutions survive. It is who controls them, who can use them, and whose claims they recognise. When victims, lawyers, journalists, and civic actors must carry justice from outside the institutions that were supposed to serve them, something deeper than institutional weakness is at stake. The problem is not institutional absence. It is institutional capture.
Transitional justice is most vulnerable not when institutions vanish overnight, but when they are slowly repurposed from within
Guatemala and Tunisia differ in history, region, and political trajectory. But their experiences offer the same warning. Transitional justice is most vulnerable not when institutions vanish overnight, but when they are slowly repurposed from within. Courts may still open their doors. Prosecutors may still hold office. Archives may still exist. Yet when accountability institutions are captured from within, justice becomes harder to obtain, easier to delay, and safer to ignore. By the time that becomes visible, formal legality may still be standing. Meaningful accountability may not be.
