The performative nastiness of the Home Secretary

24th March 2021

The office of home secretary is one that often does not bring the best out of its occupants.

Indeed, for a while the phrase ‘former Labour home secretary’ was one of the most illiberal phrases in the political lexicon.

Once could think of exceptions – Roy Jenkins, of course, and to a limited extent William Whitelaw and Douglas Hurd (though the latter two only seem more ‘liberal’ by comparison).

On the whole, however, just as certain experiences bring out the worst in human nature, being home secretary can bring out the worst in any politician.

But.

At least former home secretaries had the grace to pretend otherwise.

Remember the grave sorrowful face of, say, Jack Straw as he solemnly warned of the need of some ‘tough new measures’ – enticing you to nod-along with his sense of national emergency.

And Theresa May as home secretary even once stunned the police federation with a full-on speech about police reform.

In essence: the home office was a tough-old job, but some politician had to do it.

But what home secretaries did not do – at least not in public – is revel in the capacity of the office to cause harm and upset.

And so we come to the current home secretary.

Today’s news is typical of their approach:

Before May was home secretary there was a famous conference speech – framed in cautionary terms – about the Conservative Party becoming the ‘Nasty Party’.

For the current home secretary that speech has instead become a manifesto.

And as someone has averred on Twitter, this is not exceptional to the United Kingdom:

https://twitter.com/DaemonAAc/status/1374633353031389185

The Cruelty Is The Point.

(See here.)

What an unpleasant vista this is on our current politics.

The important thing to note, however, is not so much (yet) that the powers and objectives of the home office have profoundly changed.

These are just about the sort of policies that other home secretaries may have adopted – and not only Conservative politicians.

What seems novel (at least to me) is the sheer glee which accompanies the announcement and promotion of each policy announcement.

One shudders to think what the current home secretary would do publicly if the office still have the power to (not) commute a death penalty.

And rhetorical change can have substantial consequences: each great office of state is subject to and can shape public expectations – that the chancellor, for example, can and will do things in respect of the economy generally, and with taxation and spending in particular.

The more the home office is loudly deployed as a vehicle for nasty policies, presumably the more the demand for more such policies.

And so the approach of the current home secretary cannot be written-off as just vile verbiage: it may and perhaps will lead to more repressive policies.

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All this is an example of a more general problem with the current political arrangements of the United Kingdom.

The lack of political and constitutional self-restraint – and the removal of the gate-keepers.

There has never really been anything before – other than custom and decency – that has prevented a home secretary exploiting their office in this way.

Just as there was nothing which stopped the prime minister from using the prerogative powers in various unfortunate and unwise ways.

What the home secretary and some other ministers are now doing is showing openly what the constitution of the United Kingdom has long been capable of permitting.

And so what is demonstrated by this exercise of performative politics is not just the politics of the current home secretary – but that there is nothing in place that can prevent such things.

***

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Time for a peer review – why focusing on just fixing the problem of hereditary peers would not be enough

22nd June 2021

The Sunday Times this weekend did a good piece of journalism on the hereditary peers in the house of lords.

Who could possibly disagree?

Well – certainly not this blog, in principle.

Removal of the hereditary element in the house of lords is one of many ‘micro’ reforms of the constitution of the United Kingdom which should be done – regardless of the interminable ‘debate’ on the merits of a codified constitution.

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Yet.

Here are some things to think about as you nod-along.

There are other (perhaps even worse) problems with the composition of the house of lords: the power of patronage of party leaders – especially the prime minister, the rights of bishops of just one denomination of one church to have twenty-six votes, the number of life peers who do not take any active role but can be summoned to vote, and so on.

And contrary to the impression given by the headline of that piece: ninety of the ninety-two hereditary peers sitting in the house of lords do not have automatic seats – they are elected by the hereditary peers generally.

This means, somewhat paradoxically, they are the only members of the house of lords that are there by means of any sort of electoral process.

They are also free from any allegiance to any party manager or any debt arising from an act of patronage.

In other words: they are part of the legislature outside the control of the government or party leaders.

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But.

Whatever the case that can be made for hereditary peers in the house of lords, they still need to go – and sooner rather than later.

Some constitutional abominations are too awful to be tolerated.

And removing the hereditary peers would also make the house of lords more, shall we say, ‘legitimate’ in its constitutional role.

(And can we please get rid of all the mock-chivalric-pseudo-feudal-medieval titles while we are at it – if you really want to be a lord or lady of something, join a historical enactment society.)

All that said: there should not be the removal of one of the genuinely independent features of the house of lords without regard to the overall balance.

There is little to be gained from clapping and cheering the removal of the hereditary peers if the effect would be to tilt the balance of the house of the lords towards more governmental control.

For, as the constitution of the United Kingdom currently stands, the house of lords is the most effective check and balance to a house of commons dominated by the government.

The house of lords cannot block any legislation – and nor should it, as it does not have any democratic basis – but it can force the house of commons to think again and more carefully about its legislative proposals.

And often the reasoned amendments of the house of lords are accepted by the house of commons – and, indeed, often the house of lords amendments can provide convenient cover to ministers who eventually realise that the initial proposals were unsound.

Given that the most important constitutional function of the house of lords is that of a check and a balance – rather than to be a chamber with a rival democratic basis – then the most important quality is that it should be independent.

Stripping out one feature that provides any independence in the upper chamber should thereby be matched by other measures to maintain that independence.

That is why there should be a more general (ahem) peer review.

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And luckily, there has actually been a useful review.

The Burns report of 2017 puts forward sensible and persuasive proposals for reforming the composition of the house of lords while keeping its independent constitutional role.

The key proposals are to limit the size of the upper chamber and to convert lifetime membership (of the life peers) to a single term of fifteen years.

That report, however, did not make direct proposals for the hereditary peers and bishops.

But, in principle, there is no reason why such a reform could not also mean the removal of the hereditary and spiritual peers – as the overriding objective of a balanced upper chamber outside the domination of any government of the day would be retained.

So – yes, nod-along with the attack on the hereditary elements and, also yes, let’s get rid of them – but when the nodding-along ends, let us also make sure we have not ended up with a less independent upper house in our current constitutional arrangements.

***

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Whoopsie: the government did not get the commission report on judicial review that it was hoping for

 19th March 2021

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‘Toulouse’s suggestion was not what Audrey wanted to hear.’

– Moulin Rouge

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Sometimes – just sometimes – in the world of law and policy there are moments when welcome things do happen.

Back in August 2020 this blog covered the government’s announcement of an ‘independent panel to look at judicial review’.

It did not seem a promising move: just an attempt by the government to find cover for an assault on judicial review by means of a hand-picked commission.

But.

It is sometimes strange how things turn out.

The commission has now reported – and just a skim of the report shows that the government did not get the report it was hoping for.

In large part, the report appears to be an affirmation of the current position of judicial review – with minor changes that it is hard to feel strongly about.

(A close read of the report may dislodge this happy impression – but that is this blog’s preliminary view.)

The concluding observations of the report could have even be a post on this very blog:

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In receipt of the report, the Ministry of Justice decided that it would try harder to find people to tell them what they wanted to hear.

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‘We want to keep this conversation going.’

We can bet they do.

Like a frustrated news show producer who cannot find any talking-head expert to say the desired things, the Ministry of Justice is now resorting to a Vox Pox.

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At bottom, the problem here is a mismatch, a dislocation – such as those recently discussed on this blog.

The discrepancy is between the heady rhetoric of ‘activist judges’ – a rhetoric that has a life of its own – and the mundane reality of what actually happens in courts.

The commission, to their credit, looked hard and reported on what they saw.

Yet those Ministry of Justice, to their discredit, want to keep on until they are told what they want to hear.

Perhaps the Ministry of Justice will get what they want – and then move to limit judicial review.

One can never be optimistic about law and policy for very long, and the illiberals and authoritarians are relentless.

But this report is a welcome break from the push towards populist authoritarianism in our political and legal affairs.

**

For a more detailed account of the just-published report, see Paul Daly’s blogpost here.

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The problem of the dislocation between political language and policy substance

17th March 2021

The problem of political language not being tied firmly to particular meanings is not a new one:

‘From where Winston stood it was just possible to read, picked out on its white face in elegant lettering, the three slogans of the Party:

WAR IS PEACE

FREEDOM IS SLAVERY

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH’

Indeed, it is no doubt a problem as old as political discourse itself.

But the fact that it is not a novelty does not make it any less irksome.

And nor does it mean that its instances should be left unremarked.

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Currently there is a severe dislocation between political words and things.

Those ‘free speech warriors’ who decry ‘cancel culture’ often seem at ease with a government putting forward legislation that is capable of prohibiting any form of effective protest.

There are also the ‘classical liberals’ who commend ‘free trade’ who are in support of Brexit, which is the biggest imposition of trade barriers on the United Kingdom in modern history – and has even led to a trade barrier down the Irish Sea.

And there are the champions of the liberties under Magna Carta and of ‘common law rights’ who also somehow support restrictions on access to the court for judicial review applications and sneer at imaginary activist judges.

Like a gear stick that has come loose, there seems no connection between the political phrases and the policy substance.

But the phrases are not meaningless – they still have purchase (else they would not be used).

The phrases are enough to get people to nod-along and to clap and cheer.

It is just that they are nodding-along and clapping and cheering when the actual policies then being adopted and implemented have the opposite effect.

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Can anything be done?

An optimist will aver that mankind can only bear so much unreality – and that people will realise they have been taken in by follies and lies.

That, for example, Americans will realise that politicians who seek support to ‘make American great again’ have made America anything but.

Or that those who said they would ‘get Brexit done’ have instead placed the United Kingdom in a structure where Brexit will be a negotiation without end.

Or there will be a realisation that a government is seeking greater legal protections for statues than for actual human beings.

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A pessimist will see the opposite – that the breakdown of traditional media and political structures (with traditional political parties and newspapers seeming quaint survivors from another age) – means that it will be harder to align words with meanings.

Meaning the dismal prospect of liberals and progressives having to also adopt such insincere approaches so as to counter and defeat the illiberals and authoritarians.

Whatever the solution, it needs to come rather quickly – at least in the United Kingdom – as the current illiberal and authoritarian government is in possession of a large parliamentary majority and is showing itself willing and able to push through illiberal and authoritarian laws and policies.

While pretending to itself and others that it has ‘libertarian instincts’.

And so it may not just be the gear stick which has come loose but also the brakes as well.

Brace, brace.

***

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Why a production company was not allowed to pre-record and broadcast the coronavirus procurement case – a guided tour of the court’s reasoning

20th February 2021

Physician, heal thyself – proverb.

Yesterday the high court handed down its decision in the challenge to the government’s lack of transparency in respect of coronavirus-related procurement.

The court held that the government should have been more transparent.

This blog will examine that judgment once it can be properly digested – but in the meantime, there are some paragraphs of the judgment are interesting in and of themselves.

These paragraphs set out why the court – in a case about transparency and the public interest during the pandemic – refused an application for a production company to pre-record the hearing for broadcast under the very legislation that allows the courts to be more transparent during the pandemic.

Which is a little bit ironic.

Don’t you think?

The court’s reasoning on why the hearing could not be pre-recorded for broadcast is set out at the end of the judgment in a section with the title “Postscript: recording and broadcasting”.

The reasoning is worth going through step-by-step so one can understand the limits of public transparency of the courts when dealing with cases about the public transparency of the government.

(Please note that some of the mild teasing of the court below should not be taken too earnestly.)

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We start at paragraph 161 of the judgment:

‘161. Prior to the hearing, the Administrative Court Office indicated to the parties that, because of the COVID-19 pandemic, the hearing of this claim would take place remotely using a video-conferencing platform. The Claimants invited me to give permission for a television production company to record and re-broadcast the proceedings in the interests of open justice. They made written submissions in support of that application. The Secretary of State resisted it, on jurisdictional grounds. I refused the application, indicating that I would give my reasons in writing at the same time as the judgment, unless the application was renewed orally at the hearing. The application was not renewed orally. These are my reasons for refusing it on paper.’

This is a useful reminder that judicial reasoning does not exist in a vacuum: judicial reasoning is about whether a court should do or not do a particular thing – usually whether to make an order.

Here, the reasoning is set out not because Mr Justice Chamberlain is going on some frolic of his own, volunteering his opinions on behalf of the judiciary of England and Wales on whether high court proceedings ought to be recorded and broadcast, but in response to a particular application by the claimants.

The government resisted that application – but not on its merits (though no doubt the government would not relish such proceedings being freely available). 

The application was instead resisted on ‘jurisdictional grounds’ – that is that such an order would not be open to any high court judge regardless of the merits.

You will also note that the judge mentions the application was ‘in the interests of open justice’ – and you will see that in nothing that follows does the judge deny that proposition.

The judge refused the application, and so what follows in this post tells why the judge made that decision – and why he did not (or could not) make any other decision on that application.

And the post ends by averring that this was an opportunity missed by the high court and such an application could have been granted on terms.

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Next is paragraph 162:

‘Section 41 of the Criminal Justice Act 1925 imposes a general prohibition on the taking of photographs in court and on the publication of such photographs. This prohibition extends to video recordings: R v Loveridge [2001] EWCA Crim 973, [2001] 2 Cr App R 29. Exceptions have been provided by and under statute. None applies to proceedings in the Administrative Court. Section 41 therefore constrains the inherent jurisdiction of the court: R (Spurrier) v Secretary of State for Transport [2019] EWHC 528 (Admin), [2019] EMLR 16.’

The judge starts at, well, the starting point.

Taking photographs in court and publishing the photographs is generally prohibited – which means it is generally a criminal offence to breach the prohibition.

The prohibition is set out in a statute that is nearly one hundred years old, the Criminal Justice Act 1925, section 41(1) of which provides:

‘No person shall—

‘(a) take or attempt to take in any court any photograph, or with a view to publication make or attempt to make in any court any portrait or sketch, of any person, being a judge of the court or a juror or a witness in or a party to any proceedings before the court, whether civil or criminal; or

‘(b) publish any photograph, portrait or sketch taken or made in contravention of the foregoing provisions of this section or any reproduction thereof [… ]’

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But wait: the proposal is not to photograph inside the court – indeed the hearing is not even taking place inside a physical court room – so how is this prohibition relevant?

The judge explains that section 41(1) has been extended to also mean video recordings, even though such things did not exist as such in 1925 and the section does not expressly mention video recordings.

Unfortunately, the 2001 decision which the judge cites as being authority for section 41(1) extending to video recording – and thereby extending the scope of a criminal offence – is not itself easily found in the public domain.

The nearest one will find in a reasonable internet search is this brief case note – which tells us, unrevealingly, that the court of appeal decided an ‘appellant’s convictions were safe despite the police having unlawfully videotaped them at court and adduced the evidence of a facial mapping expert to compare that video with CCTV footage’.

How a member of the public could join that dot to what the court here is saying about section 41(1) applying to video recording is not plain – and so we have to take the judge’s word for section 41(1) prohibiting video broadcasts and recordings even though section 41(1) does not explicitly say so.

(Yes, I know one can access the 2001 judgment through subscription services – but this blog and and what it describes is an exercise in the public understanding of law using public domain materials.)

The judge then notes there are general exceptions to this general prohibition – see here – but tells us none of those exceptions apply.

As such he concludes section 41(1) binds the court’s ‘inherent jurisdiction’ – that regardless that the power of the high court is very mighty indeed, statute is even mightier.

And of course, the judgment he cites for this very important principle is also not (easily) found in the public domain either.

So again we have to take the judge’s word for it.

Welcome to open justice.

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We now come to paragraph 163, which deals with how the courts have been specially allowed to conduct video proceedings during the current pandemic:

163. The Coronavirus Act 2020 inserted provisions into the Courts Act 2003 about “proceedings conducted wholly as video proceedings”. The first provision inserted was s. 85A(1), headed “Enabling the public to see and hear proceedings”. It empowers the court to direct that such proceedings may be broadcast (i.e. live-streamed). It also empowers the court to direct that the proceedings be recorded, but only “for the purpose of enabling the court to keep an audio-visual record of the proceedings”. Parliament could have authorised recording for broadcast, but did not.

Here the judge is describing what the law says – but also, by implication, what the law is not saying.

The law is set out in a section inserted into the 2003 Act by coronavirus legislation, which provides:

‘Section 85

‘If the court directs that proceedings are to be conducted wholly as video proceedings, the court—

‘(a) may direct that the proceedings are to be broadcast (in the manner specified in the direction) for the purpose of enabling members of the public to see and hear the proceedings;

”(b) may direct that a recording of the proceedings is to be made (in the manner specified in the direction) for the purpose of enabling the court to keep an audio-visual record of the proceedings […]’

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Section 85 looks promising for the applicants – and the exception under sub-section (a) looks as if it could cover the envisaged broadcast.

On the face of it sub-section 85(a) could be read so to permit the pre-recording and broadcast as envisaged in the application – subject to any specifications of the court

(In my view, had parliament intended that such broadcasts could only ever be done simultaneously with the hearing then parliament would have said so, but it did not.)

But the judge dismisses this possible reading with a deft gloss in parentheses that the broadcast exception only means ‘live-streaming’ – but note, the relevant law does not explicitly mention live-streaming – just broadcasting.

And, of course, many things that are broadcast go through a pre-recorded stage.

There is not a rigid broadcast/record distinction in media production.

The judge decides the envisaged project would fall instead within sub-section 85(b), and he avers that any such recording can only be for the purpose of judicial record keeping.

(It would seem to me to be at least arguable that a direction would have been possible under sub-section 85(a) containing specifications as to the manner of how the proceedings should be broadcast – otherwise, it would ignore the fact that most broadcasts necessarily go through a pre-recording stage.)

As the court decides neither of the coronavirus-related exceptions apply under section 85, then the general prohibition stands.

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The judge then, in paragraph 164, sets out the criminal offence that parliament created in the coronavirus legislation in respect of certain unauthorised broadcasts and recordings:

‘164. The second provision inserted was s. 85B, headed “Offences of recording or transmission in relation to broadcasting”. This makes it an offence for a person to make an unauthorised recording or unauthorised transmission of an image or sound which is being broadcast in accordance with a direction under s. 85A. Section 86B(6) provides that a recording or transmission is “unauthorised” unless it is (a) authorised by a direction under section 85A, (b) otherwise authorised (generally or specifically) by the court in which the proceedings concerned are being conducted, or (c) authorised (generally or specifically) by the Lord Chancellor.”

This means that if a hearing is live-streamed in accordance with an order, it will be an offence for anyone to record and re-broadcast such footage.

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The judge then deals with what appears to be an ingenious attempt by the Claimants to get around the statutory regime using the wording of the criminal offence:

‘165. The Claimants relied on s. 86B(6)(b). They argued that it would make no sense unless the court had power to authorise recording or transmission other than under s. 85A. This is topsy turvy statutory construction. Both the heading and operative language of s. 86B make plain that it is concerned with the creation of an offence and with the delineation of its scope. The function of s. 86B(6)(b) is to make clear that no offence would be committed by a person who records or transmits footage pursuant to an authorisation by the court. That is not surprising. One would not expect something authorised by a court to give rise to criminal liability.’

Topsy turvy.

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Of course, the language of ‘make plain’ and ‘made clear’ in law (as in politics) usually means that the thing being described is not actually plain nor clear.

And it would seem that the applicants do have a point here (if a weak one) as the relevant section does appear to acknowledge orders being made other than under the coronavirus legislation.

But such an acknowledgment does not, by itself, create jurisdiction to make an order – the applicants still need to show the legal basis for their application, and they did not convince the court that they had one.

Ingenious legal submissions almost always fail.

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Having asserted that the relevant law is ‘plain’ and ‘clear’ the judge, of course, has to explain the law yet further, and he does so in paragraph 166:

‘166. Nothing in s. 86B purports to define or expand the scope of the court’s powers to authorise broadcast and recording. Those powers are set out in s. 86A. That provision would not have been drafted as it is if the intention were to empower the court to permit recording other than for the purposes of record-keeping.’

Of course, if the law was actually ‘plain’ and ‘clear” then the judge would not need to keep on explaining it, as the law would, well, be plain and clear.

And again the court overlooks the fact that most broadcasting requires a pre-recording stage, and parliament did not expressly limit broadcasting to simultaneous live-streaming.

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Paragraph 167 then sets out that there is a general prohibition on pre-recording for the purposes of broadcast and that this prohibition stands in this particular case:

‘167. There is accordingly no power to permit proceedings in the Administrative Court to be recorded for the purposes of broadcast, even when the proceedings are conducted wholly as video proceedings.’

In other words: the court would not be able to make such an order even if it wanted to do so.

It is a question of jurisdiction, not the merits of the application.

The judge has therefore not decided against making the order as such, but has decided that he does not have the power to do so.

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But what about open justice?

For just as the roles of judges, lawyers and parties are now performed online during the pandemic, what about those who would sit in the public gallery?

In the last paragraph of the judgment, the judge explains how this important issue is addressed:

‘168. This does not generally, and did not in this case, prevent the public from having access to proceedings conducted wholly by video in the Administrative Court. In line with the Court’s usual practice, the cause list published on the day before the hearing included an email address through which any member of the public could apply for access to the online platform. All 19 who applied were able to access and watch and listen to the proceedings in this way. The proceedings were therefore at least as accessible as they would have been if held in court.’

This is a good point, well made by the judge.

Anyone who wanted to see the proceedings was able to do so, in the same way a person can go along and sit in a court if they want to do so.

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But.

‘Open justice’ does not mean openness only to the very limited extent of the time, effort and commitment of a determined stranger to sit in a far-away public gallery.

The high court should seize the opportunity provided by the coronavirus legislation to make its work more visible to the public generally – especially in public interest cases arising out of the government’s response to the pandemic.

The public gallery is just one manifestation of the principle of open justice, but it is not its only standard nor its only template.

That is, to invoke a phrase, topsy turvy.

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The mild teasing of the court above does have a serious point.

In public interest cases where the hearing comprises lawyer-on-lawyer action (and not any witness evidence) there is no good reason for the proceedings not to be more widely available.

This is not to suggest a free-for-all – such broadcasts can be done subject to the specifications of the court.

But a properly produced and professionally edited version of a public interest court case would be a boon for the public understanding of the law.

It is possible to read section 85A as permitting such a broadcast and, if so, the high court did have the jurisdiction.

Another judge may have taken a more robust approach to the opportunity provided by the coronavirus legislation for such a broadcast to be permitted.

It was a pity that such a production was not possible here.

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The ‘war on woke’ and law and policy commentary – and the importance of responding to illiberals but not on their terms

19th February 2021

There are various ways of seeing the current ‘war on woke’ being promoted by certain politicians and their media supporters.

One is to see it as a growing threat: that certain divisive issues are being ‘weaponised’ by those seeking and holding political and media power as a means of mobilising and consolidating sufficient support so as to obtain and maintain political and media power.

Another way is to see it is as the signals of declining political and media power: certain divisive issues are being ‘weaponised’ with increasing frequency as a means of holding off falls in political and media support, with each promotion of illiberalism illustrating the law of diminishing returns.

Either – or neither – of these things may be true.

One hopes for the latter, but one fears the former.

And perhaps which one is (or will be) true is down to what liberal and progressive people do now, as few things in human affairs are inevitable in any direction.

But there is the question of how, if at all, a law and policy blog should engage with each of these blows of the trumpet.

Should each blast be taken with anxious earnest solemnity – and risk being ‘owned’ like a ‘lib’?

Should one point and laugh and jeer – and risk being portrayed as having some metropolitan sneer?

Both of these responses are, of course, factored into the provocations – they are the desired results of the pulls on the chain.

Yet a third response, of ignoring the provocations – not ‘feeding the trolls’ or ‘giving oxygen’ – carries the risk of something significant being ignored that can then grow and manifest itself into a thing unwanted: such as the lack of engagement with Ukip ended up with a Brexit with the United Kingdom outside the European Union single market and customs union.

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So what, if any, is the best chess move to make?

The approach of this blog – for what it is worth – is to acknowledge that there is an attempt to start a culture war, but to not participate on the terms of the aggressor.

As a previous post asked: what happens if they started a culture war and nobody turned up?

Instead – perhaps too boring and unconfrontational for the tastes of some – the claims of illiberals will be patiently set out and the merits of those claims examined.

Invariably those claims will be found wanting.

And that will be because the claims are not intended to be serious contributions to law and policy but instead political – indeed, populist – speech acts.

Such claims need – somewhere – to be pointed out as such.

But this approach itself is problematic.

As I have previously averred, pointing out lies and disinformation does not make any difference if people want to be lied to – or do not care.

https://twitter.com/davidallengreen/status/1205258913911844870

But it is a public good anyway, and it still should be done even if there are no obvious benefits.

And at least it will be a resource for those who do want to know the facts of matters before making media and political choices.

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The reason for setting this out is that have some have critically responded to recent posts – for example setting out how a government minister was getting the law about statues wrong or how a pro-Brexit politician was misrepresenting the Human Rights Act and what, if any, was the significance of such misinformation.

It was contended that these very acts of engagement were wrong – that it, to use that most dire of hackney phrases, ‘played into their hands’.

I think, however, what ‘plays into their hands’ is to allow your response to be defined by the provocation.

Dull, plodding, matter-of-fact posts setting out the false law and policy premises and incorrect facts about various provocative claims do not seem to me to be ‘knock-on’ effects that are desired by the provocateur.

Indeed, it may well be the most irksome of all possible responses – for it removes credibility without adding any drama or excitement.

Of course: such responses do little or nothing directly to politically counter the provocateur.

For that, one must look to opposition politicians for leadership.

And that is certainly not a job for a non-partisan blog – for partisanship is the enemy of useful commentary.

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The noises made by United Kingdom ministers complaining of exclusion from European Union decision-making is the sound of Brexit

9th February 2021

One delight of the internet age is that you are more likely to see copies of original political correspondence.

Before the late 1990s you could have a serious interest in politics and public affairs and never see a copy of an official letter on headed paper.

Now, though usually when it suits a politician or official involved, you will see formal correspondence as images attached to tweets or embedded in news articles for you to scroll and look at for yourself.

On the face of it, this is a boon for transparency: you get to see what these letters say for yourself, rather than relying on the spin of ‘a friend of the minister’ or the rushed summary of a busy reporter.

But this is somewhat illusory, for three reasons.

First, as mentioned, one almost always only gets to see what it suits somebody with power for you to see.

Second, some of the politicians most adept at the game of letter writing for publication – such as Michael Gove at the cabinet office – are in charge of government departments with miserable records in respect of freedom of information.

And third, the letters are invariably political rather than administrative devices, written with the audience of supporters and media in mind, rather than to inform the recipient.

So, notwithstanding the grand headings and formal paraphernalia, such letters should be presumed to be mere propaganda and gestures, unless a more serious nature can be shown.

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But.

Sometimes such letters can be unintentionally revealing.

And two such telling letters entered the public domain yesterday.

The first is from Gove and it is in respect of article 16 of the Irish protocol.

2020_02_02_-_Letter_from_CDL_to_VP_Šefčovič

As with any Gove letter the first task is to strip off the all the performative politeness, as one would do with the needless extra wrapping of something that may be useful underneath.

But what I saw as notable about this letter was not the supposed main subject of the botched invocation of article 16 by the European Union – on which the United Kingdom has a fair point, though here it is being shamelessly exploited – but a comment made by Gove in passing.

‘We were not consulted on this Regulation either.’

There was no formal need for the European Union to have consulted the United Kingdom on this new regulation.

The previous version of the regulation – which had cited article 16 – did mean that the United Kingdom should have at least been notified in advance.

But this was not the case with the replacement regulation.

The revised regulation was entirely a matter for the European Union.

And the reason why it was entirely a matter for the European Union is, well, because the United Kingdom has departed from the European Union.

Not being part of the formal decision-making, policy-making and law-making of the European Union is what Brexit means.

Of course, Brexit also means many different other things to different people.

But the one thing which Brexit has to mean is that the United Kingdom is no longer part of those institutions of the European Union that make decisions, or formulate and apply policy, or adopt and implement laws.

This is the necessary implication of the United Kingdom ‘taking back control’.

What did Gove and other Brexit-supporting politicians think Brexit meant?

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Another letter from another minister was from George Eustace.

Here the United Kingdom government is ‘surprised’ that the European Union has ‘changed its position’.

One fears that the United Kingdom will have to get used to be being ‘surprised’.

(Though any minister or official who is genuinely ‘surprised’ by what a counterparty does is not doing their job properly – as the awareness of and planning for possible contingencies is the basis of any sound public policy.)

Again, as with Gove’s letter, the United Kingdom government does not appear to realise that the United Kingdom is now merely a ‘third country’ for the purposes of European Union decision-making, policy-making and law-making.

Unless the European Union has agreed otherwise in the withdrawal or the trade and cooperation agreements, the interests of the United Kingdom has no more purchase on the conduct of the European Union than any other non-member of the European Union.

That is what Brexit means.

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There will be, no doubt, many more complaints from United Kingdom ministers – and from their political and media supporters – about the European Union making decisions, formulating and applying policy, and adopting and implementing laws, that are not to the advantage of the United Kingdom.

Supporters of Brexit tended to emphasise the positive-sounding ‘taking back’ of ‘control’ – but the immediate and necessary consequence of Brexit is instead the formal exclusion of the United Kingdom from general European Union decision-making, policy-making, and law-making.

And so, just as ministers complaining about adverse judicial decisions is the sound of a working constitution, the noises of ministers unhappy about what the European Union does and does not do is the sound of Brexit.

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FOLLOW-UPS

From time to time, this blog will link to interesting things relevant to previous posts.

On yesterday’s post on the Queen’s Consent, please see these further Guardian reports (here and here) and also this informative article by Adam Tucker, the leading constitutional law academic on the subject.

On the post on ‘Sovereignty’ and Brexit, many have pointed to this post by Alastair Campbell.

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Why the first paragraph of the lawsuit brought by Dominion Voting Systems against Rudolph Giuliani is a splendid piece of legal drafting

26th January 2021

You would need a heart of stone not to laugh like a drain at the lawsuit brought by Dominion Voting Systems against Rudolph Giuilani.

The pleading is worth reading for its own sake, and the first paragraph – which, as this post will show, rewards re-reading – is a cracker.

But once one eventually stops laughing, what should one make of it?

Of course, the defendant Rudolph Giuilani is now regarded by many as a figure of political fun, a villain in the Trump pantomime.

But principle is – or should be – blind to the person to whom it applies.

So here is a thought experiment.

Imagine – for the sake of argument and exposition – that there was a corporation that provided voting machines and, unlike the plaintiff in this case, there was a serious and consequential issue as to the efficacy of the equipment.

And imagine that the political or media figure bringing loud attention to this issue was not the defendant in this situation but instead a credible and likeable politician or journalist.

Would you still clap and cheer if that noble figure was faced with a 107-page legal claim for $651,735,000 or some other absurdly precise amount?

Or would you re-tweet furiously about threats by corporates to whistleblowing and freedom of expression?

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So how can the court tell the good cases from the bad?

How can the court strike the right balance?

*

This thread from American lawyer Mike Dunford sets out the legal challenges for Dominion Voting Systems:

And as would be the position with a similar case in England and Wales, you will see that the legal issue quickly becomes one of showing malice – and there it is called ‘actual malice’:

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At this point the non-lawyer will ask, understandably: what is malice?

And a lawyer will respond, frustratingly: it all depends.

But here it is interesting to now go back to the first paragraph of the the legal pleading of Dominion Voting System (and this is why it is worth re-reading):

“During a court hearing contesting the results of the 2020 election in Pennsylvania, Rudy Giuliani admitted that the Trump Campaign “doesn’t plead fraud” and that “this is not a fraud case.” Although he was unwilling to make false election fraud claims about Dominion and its voting machines in a court of law because he knew those allegations are false, he and his allies manufactured and disseminated the “Big Lie,” which foreseeably went viral and deceived millions of people into believing that Dominion had stolen their votes and fixed the election. Giuliani reportedly demanded $20,000 per day for that Big Lie. But he also cashed in by hosting a podcast where he exploited election falsehoods to market gold coins, supplements, cigars, and protection from “cyberthieves.” Even after the United States Capitol had been stormed by rioters who had been deceived by Giuliani and his allies, Giuliani shirked responsibility for the consequences of his words and repeated the Big Lie again.”

This is not just racy narrative – if you look carefully you will see that it is a clever attempt to show malice.

Giuliani said a thing he knew he could not say in court; he knew it would go viral; he had a financial incentive; and he was irresponsible in respect of its consequences.

Every sentence – every clause – of that well-crafted first paragraph is serving a purpose in showing that there was ‘actual malice’.

It is a lovely piece of legal drafting – enough to make one want to clap and cheer, regardless of the identity of the defendant.

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Corporations – especially those providing public services or supplying equipment for use in public services – should not have it easy when it comes to making legal threats.

Even when they are threatening pantomime villains.

Public figures, especially those in the worlds of politics and media, should have some protection when they are complaining of such corporations.

Even when those figures are pantomime villains.

The purpose of the law in these situations is to strike a balance – to provide for what both sides would need to show in court.

Here the corporation – rightly – cannot just sue because of damaging false statements, it may also need to show that there was malice.

And the lesson of the first paragraph of the pleading and of the rest of the complaint is that in certain circumstances this can be shown, at least arguably.

What comes of this case cannot be guessed at this time – and most civil claims tend to settle.

But Giuliani has a genuine legal fight on his hands here.

And you would need a heart of stone not to laugh like a drain.

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The inauguration of a new president: mere ceremonial form and hard constitutional substance

21st January 2021

One of the few benefits of lockdown is that you are no longer expected to go to weddings and other ‘happy’ ceremonies.

Instead of days of tiresome travel and hours of boredom, one can watch the ceremony and speeches on a laptop for an hour or so and then go and do something more useful instead.

(For more on form vs substance regarding marriage ceremonies, see my 2011 New Statesman post.)

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Much of this impatient disdain for mere ceremonial form can and should be applied to constitutional matters.

Certain symbolic events symbolise nothing other than symbolism is important only for the sake of symbolism.

Interesting perhaps for the fogeys and other enthusiasts, but often a bore for the rest of us.

And presidential inaugurations in the United States are usually fairly meaningless occasions, other than that they happen to be around the same time as when by automatic operation of law one presidential term ends and another one begins.

But the inauguration ceremony yesterday was different.

It was riveting.

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Just as lockdown has had a few benefits notwithstanding the immense misery, so has the presidency of Donald Trump.

And one of those few benefits is that far more people now realise how the constitutional law of the United States works (and does not work) in practice.

Certain things before Trump were taken for granted to the extent that anyone realised those things existed at all.

Take, for example, what happens between a November presidential election and the January inauguration of a new presidential term.

The rights to recounts and re-run ballots; the certification of votes by each individual state; the appointment of electors for the electoral college and their obligations; and the congressional counting of the vote and certification of the winner.

Previously each of these steps – even with the contested 2000 result and Bush v Gore – was a mere formality.

One could have an informed interest in American politics and not know much or indeed anything about these obscure procedural steps.

Now many people know exactly the process that exists between the national vote and the start of a new presidential term.

And widespread knowledge about constitutional arrangements is a good thing.

It may be a bad thing for constitutional law to be exciting –  politics should take place within an agreed framework rather than constantly being about undermining that framework – but understanding the rules of any game is important for those taking part and those watching.

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And we watched the ceremony yesterday with anxious scrutiny.

Few people in the future will realise just how nervous many of us were in the last hours and indeed minutes of the Trump presidency.

What would he do? 

What could happen?

Is it over yet?

(And indeed Trump issued another pardon with only minutes of his term to go.)

Even watching the chief justice swear in the new president was not enough: it still was not noon Eastern Standard Time.

The final one or two minutes seemed to last an eternity, even though the new president was well in to his acceptance speech.

And then: it was twelve noon EST.

Not since Charles Perrault’s Cinderella has there been a strike of twelve that produced such a wonderful general transformation.

It was over.

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The greatest (if flawed) writer about the constitution of the United Kingdom – at least from an English perspective – Walter Bagehot made a distinction between the efficient and the dignified elements of a constitution.

Some who only know of this famous distinction misrepresent it as meaning that the dignified elements are somehow useless elements.

But this is not what Bagehot meant – what he actually said was:

“There are indeed practical men [and women] who reject the dignified parts of Government. They say, we want only to attain results, to do business: a constitution is a collection of political means for political ends, and if you admit that any part of a constitution does no business, or that a simpler machine would do equally well what it does, you admit that this part of the constitution, however dignified or awful it may be, is nevertheless in truth useless.

“And other reasoners, who distrust this bare philosophy, have propounded subtle arguments to prove that these dignified parts of old Governments are cardinal components of the essential apparatus, great pivots of substantial utility; and so they manufactured fallacies which the plainer school have well exposed.

“But both schools are in error. The dignified parts of Government are those which bring it force—which attract its motive power. The efficient parts only employ that power.”

He continued:

“[The dignified elements] may not do anything definite that a simpler polity would not do better; but they are the preliminaries, the needful prerequisites of all work. They raise the army, though they do not win the battle.”

In other words, it is not just important that institutions work well but they are legitimate and seen to be legitimate.

And thereby the purpose of any constitutional ceremony is not just an exercise in form but part of what confers legitimacy on those who exercise the power of the state.

Of course, we could have got by without any ceremony yesterday and just watched the clock run down in silent dread.

And of course, the ceremony was not ‘efficient’ – even the chief justice got the law wrong in that Biden was not yet the new president, at least for thirteen minutes.

But as Bagehot averred, to say part of a constitution is dignified is not to say that it is useless, but that it serves another purpose.

To be sworn in at the seat of the legislature by the head of the judiciary is a powerful indication of constitutional legitimacy, especially as it was at the very place where an insurrection happened just days ago.

This will not be enough for some Trump supporters, but it could not have been done better in the circumstances.

In more than one sense, therefore, the inauguration ceremony of Joseph Biden sought to bring dignity back to the government of the Unites States – not only in his personal manner but also in Bagehot’s sense of demonstrating to all those watching that this new presidency is constitutionally legitimate.

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Why prime ministers and ministers should read the legal texts for which they are responsible – and not leave it to summaries and advisors

16th January 2021

There are news reports that the prime minister has not read the trade and cooperation agreement with the European Union – and nor had the fisheries minister before it was agreed.

And this follows the former Brexit Secretary who once admitted he had not read the thirty-five page Good Friday Agreement – even though that document was of fundamental importance to the shape and outcome of Brexit.

https://twitter.com/EmmandJDeSouza/status/1306319236583903234

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One reaction to these admissions is to say that it is not actually necessary for ministers to read such legal texts – that ministers are usually not specialist lawyers, that such engagement could lead to misunderstandings, and that it would not be an efficient or sensible use of their limited time.

And that it is perfectly reasonable, and indeed preferable, that ministers rely on the advisers to summarise and explain these legal texts instead.

For such reasons, the argument goes, it is not fair to criticise ministers for not reading legal texts for which they are responsible or, in the case of the Good Friday Agreement, fundamental to their ministerial roles.

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Many of those who hold this view are themselves advisers or others who have briefed and summarised such legal texts for ministers and other lay people.

This blogpost avers that this view is not correct and that, for the following three reasons, any minister should be on top of the legal text for which they are responsible or is relevant to their roles, and that ministers should not rely on advisers and their summaries.

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As a preliminary point, however, there is something that this blogpost is not contending.

A minister should not just be left alone with a legal text and be expected to engage with it as an experienced and specialist lawyer.

Even ministers who happen to be lawyers may not be experienced or specialised in the relevant field.

This post is not suggesting that ministers become their own lawyers.

This post instead is putting forward the view about how ministers should approach legal texts as an active (rather than as a passive) client of their legal advisers.

How – in accordance with the old adage – advisers should advise and how ministers decide.

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The first reason is that any intelligent and diligent lay person (that is, a person who is not a specialised lawyer in a relevant field) can engage with a legal text.

No legal text is so obscure – or sacred – that it requires a solemn priesthood of lawyers to interpret its import to the uncouth.

Although parts of some legal documents can look as impenetrable as a computer screen suddenly full of source code, all legal documents will have basic terms, for example: party [x] shall do [y] and if [y] does not happen, then [z] happens instead.

Legal instruments create rights and obligations, and they provide for consequences of those rights being exercised or of those obligations not being fulfilled, and they provide for allocations of risk of certain things happening or not happening.

This is not mysterious stuff – but the very stuff of relationships and powers and conflicts – indeed, it is the basic stuff of politics itself.

And for a minister, a legal text for which they are responsible will set out in hard form these relationships and powers, and how any conflicts are to be resolved.

A minister should therefore engage with such a text and ask their lawyers and other advisers: What does this provision mean? What is the consequence if [a] happens? What is the consequence if [b] does not happen and so on.

In response, any (genuine) expert will have no difficulty in explaining the answer in plain language – or in admitting that something may be missing.

In my experience, the best lay clients are not the ones who pretend to be lawyers – but the ones who will test their lawyers to explain any instrument or other legal text.

Often the lay client, who will usually be approaching the text in a far more practical, street-wise way than any adviser, will spot many possible imprecisions and omissions.

After all, the lay-client is the one who will have to deal with the consequences of how that instrument works in practice.

And this exercise in active engagement can only be done by direct reference to the legal text – not some summary at one or two stages removed.

Like a decent literature student who knows not to rely on York Notes, and a decent law student who knows not to rely on Nutshells, any intelligent and diligent lay client knows there is no substitute to knowing the primary materials.

And again, this is not the lay person pretending to be a lawyer, but them fulfilling their proper role as a client.

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The second reason is that is that summaries are sometimes not reliable texts, notwithstanding the best intentions and professionalism of the adviser who prepares that summary.

This is the nature of summaries: you are relying on another person to identify and set out all the key issues – and such summarisers are not infallible.

But regardless of fallibility, a summary of any legal instrument does not necessarily deal with all the questions a lay client can have when reviewing the terms of that instrument.

And this is because a legal instrument deals (or may have to deal) with dynamic situations where different parts of the instrument can be engaged at once and interact- and any summary is linear.

For example: a thing could happen which is simultaneously a breach of obligation (a), triggers remedy (b), which is subject to a limitation (c), giving rise to process (d), entitling the party not in breach to options (e), (f) and (g).

Different fairy lights can be flashing all at the same time.

No summary can ever equate to having a practical grasp of how a legal instrument works in foreseeable situations.

And this grasp is perfectly possible for an intelligent and diligent lay client – in dialogue with advisers.

This is not to say summaries are redundant – but that they are inherently limited as a means of conveying a robust understanding of any legal instrument.

(And this assumes the summariser being a professional person with relevant experience the best intentions – advisers with their own biases and interests or lack of experience can make the summaries even less of an adequate substitute.)

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The third reason is political.

The doctrine of ministerial responsibility means that it is the minister – and not the civil servant, government lawyer or other adviser – who is responsible to parliament and to the public for decisions.

This means that parliament and the public look to the minister to be the one who makes decisions.

Many ministerial decisions are necessarily made on the basis of summaries – one or two pages of a recommendation in those famous red boxes.

But when the minister is to bind the United Kingdom in an international agreement, with profound consequences for every citizen and business, that duty cannot be offloaded and outsourced to advisers.

A refusal or unwillingness to engage with the primary materials also can lead a minister to wishful-thinking or even denialism – that such-and-such will not really lead to a trade barrier in the Irish Sea and so on.

Such evasions are far less possible when you see things in their black-and-white typed form, and you have had explained to you what the meaning and consequences are of that black-and-white typed form.

There is also, of course, the natural tendency of people with power to rely on others only then to blame them when things go wrong.

Decisions in respect of the United Kingdom’s obligations are not for advisers and officials to make – ministers have to form their own view, for it is that view for which ministers are responsible.

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A minister – even a prime minister – is just as capable as any intelligent and diligent lay client as engaging directly with a legal instrument, and in forming their own understanding of that instrument.

Summaries and reliance on advisors are not substitutes for knowing your way round the primary materials.

And given the doctrine of ministerial responsibility, and the immense importance of many legal international agreements, ministers have a special responsibility to properly understand what they are signing us up to.

Advisers advise, and ministers decide – but some ministerial decisions require far more than reliance on advisers.

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