New Substack Essay: The 1610 case of Dr Bonham, and the question of whether parliament is really sovereign

 

22nd January 2023

The new essay at my Substack is up.

The essay is on the 1610 case of Dr Bonham, and the question of whether parliament is really sovereign:

These essays on legal history or law/lore are for paid subscribers, and they are additional to my weekday free-to-read topical commentary here on the law and policy blog.

Previous essays in this series are:

Malone (1979) – perhaps the most significant constitutional case of the last 50 years

Wednesbury (1948) – the origin of the modern principle of legal unreasonableness

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These essays are cross-posted on Patreon for my Patreon supporters.

Anyone who made a Paypal donation to this blog in 2022, as well as Patreon supporters, can be given a one-year free complimentary subscription – just leave a message marked “PRIVATE” below.

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Courts and politics and the job of judicial review

13th January 2023

What is the role of the courts when they are asked to look at decisions taken by our elected representatives?

From a legal perspective, the usual distinction is between “appeal” and “review”.

This means that a court should not examine the merits of the decision, but a court can (and should) ascertain whether it was a decision lawfully open to that decision-maker to make.

And so, the legal theory goes, as long as it is a decision within the scope of decisions open to that decision-make, it cannot (and should not) be quashed by the court.

The decision will stand, even if the court – and indeed the voters – disagree with that decision.

The decision may be unpopular but it will not be unlawful.

And therefore the role of the court should only be to judicially review a decision, rather than conduct an appeal on the merits of that decision,

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In practice the distinction is not as easily applied as it is stated above.

Of course, certain decisions can be quashed because the wrong or an unfair procedure has been adopted.

And as such “procedural impropriety” is a long-standing heading of judicial review.

A decision can also be challenged because of a want of legal power: if a decision-maker does not have the legal power to make a certain decision then a court can hold that there has been illegality.

And “Illegality” too is a long-standing heading of judicial review.

Neither of these headings are controversial.

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But there is a third heading (and possibly a fourth) which is often controversial.

That is when a decision is “unreasonable”.

From a lay (that is, non-lawyer) perspective, this can seem the same as a court looking at the merits of the decision.

For many lay people calling a decision is “unreasonable” is the same as saying that it is a decision you do not like.

For lawyers (supposedly) it has a different meaning: a reasonable decision is one which is reasoned in that the decision-maker can explain how the decision was arrived at.

It also means that the decision-maker only had regard to relevant considerations and disregarded irrelevant considerations.

Here, however, we are coming close to a judge second-guessing the decision-making processes of elected politicians.

And this is even more the case where fundamental rights of individuals are being interfered with, where a judge may have to assess whether the interference has been “disproportionate”.

By “disproportionate” it is often meant that the decision was not rationally connected to the supposed purpose of the legal power and/or the decision went further than necessary to achieve the public policy goal of the decision-maker.

As you can see, this is taking the judge close to the realm of politics.

And so this is where many of the flash-points in political-judicial relations occur.

Where do you think the balance should be?

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My essay tomorrow for paying Substack subscribers will be on the fascinating story of the Wednesbury case of 1947, the “grandfather” of English cases on reasonableness.

This was the case where a judge opined that a decision can be quashed for unreasonableness only when the decision was so unreasonable that no reasonable decision-maker could have made it.

This standard has since been called “Wednesbury Unreasonableness” – which is a little unfair on Wednesbury Corporation, as the court found in 1947 that the council had acted reasonably.

To read this essay tomorrow you can subscribe here.

(The essay will also be posted on Patreon – and anyone who has made a Paypal contribution to this blog in 2022 should leave a comment marked “Private” below for a year’s complimentary subscription to my Substack.)

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New Essay at Substack: Perhaps the most significant UK constitutional case of the last fifty years

6th January 2023

Over at my new law and lore Substack, I have published an essay for paying subscribers on how the Malone case of 1979-1985 exposed the lie of our supposedly liberal constitution and changed the way we were governed.

The essay starts as follows:

Consider this simple, attractive proposition: in the United Kingdom, you are free to do as you will, unless there is a law against it.

What could be wrong with such a nice proposition: it is almost a perfect articulation of principled liberalism.

But.

This proposition can have a hidden and ugly implication.

For it also can mean that the State can do as it wishes, to you and other people, unless there is a law against it.

And the case which exposed this unpleasant truth – and helped put an end to it, so that the State was required to have a legal basis for interfering with our lives – is the 1979-85 case of Malone.

This is the story of that case, and of its effects.

You can read the rest of the essay with a paid subscription here.

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This essay is also being posted on Patreon for those who subscribe to this blog using that medium.

For those who subscribe and donate through either Patreon or PayPal, please leave a “PRIVATE” comment below confirming you want me to add your email address to the Substack system so you can have a one-year complementary subscription to the law and lore Substack.

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From ornament to instrument – how current politics are forcing constitutions to work in the UK and USA

6th January 2022

This is just a short post, prompted by the ongoing inability of the Republicans in the United States House of Representatives to elect a speaker.

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There is usually no problem in a speaker being elected: the first day of the new House of Representatives is usually a ceremony, attended by the smiling families of new congressmen and congress women.

But now we are on the third day of voting, because a group of hardline Republicans are contesting what would normally be a coronation.

Two years ago today (as I set out in last week’s Substack essay), the counting and certification of electoral college votes was also converted from being a mere ceremony to something far more politically vital.

Indeed, a plan was in place to use what was normally (again) a coronation into an opportunity for the defeated president Donald Trump to somehow retain office.

And over here, during the last days before the United Kingdom left the European Union, there was an attempt to use a prorogation of parliament so as to force through a no-deal exit.

That (purported) use of the prorogation was contested and then quashed by the Supreme Court.

But usually prorogations are dull and straightforward affairs, of little interest even to political obsessives.

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Our current volatile politics keeps converting dull and ceremonial elements of our constitutions into things that matter.

Our constitutional arrangements are being forced to work, where they previously only had to decorate.

To an extent this is a good thing: like all the functioning parts of a car occasionally being tested for a MoT test.

But it also may be a bad thing, as too much stress may mean that element of the constitution buckles and breaks.

Either way, it is certainly exciting.

But, as we know, constitutional law should not be exciting, it should be dull.

Day-to-day politics should take place within the parameters of a constitution, not constantly pressing on the edges, straining them as far as they will go.

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A look at Keir Starmer’s proposal for a “Taking Back Control” Bill

5th January 2023

Today the leader of the main opposition party in the United Kingdom gave a speech.

You can read a version of Keir Starmer’s speech on the Labour party website.

One part of it which seems possibly interesting from a legal perspective is a proposal for a “Taking Back Control” Bill.

This is what the speech said:

“So we will embrace the Take Back Control message. But we’ll turn it from a slogan to a solution. From a catchphrase into change. We will spread control out of Westminster. Devolve new powers over employment support, transport, energy, climate change, housing, culture, childcare provision and how councils run their finances.

“And we’ll give communities a new right to request powers which go beyond this.

“All this will be in a new “Take Back Control” Bill – a centrepiece of our first King’s speech. A Bill that will deliver on the demand for a new Britain. A new approach to politics and democracy. A new approach to growth and our economy.”

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This call for de-centralisation and devolution will face the two fundamental problems every such call has faced since the nineteenth century.

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The first problem for de-centralisation and devolution is the doctrine of the supremacy of the Westminster parliament.

This doctrine, which in good part was a Victorian innovation not known to earlier jurists, tells that all legislative power in our polity rests with the Crown-in-Parliament.

This means that no other body in the United Kingdom can legislate other than to the extent permitted by the Westminster parliament.

Recently this doctrine was illustrated by the Supreme Court decision on a reference by Scotland’s Lord Advocate.

In effect, the Scottish parliament is merely another statutory corporation, subject to the rule of ultra vires.

The Westminster parliament will not easily forego this legislative supremacy and – if we adhere to the doctrine of parliamentary supremacy – it may be impossible for the Westminster parliament to do so.

This means that any de-centralisation and devolution is at the Westminster parliament’s command: Westminster can grant this seeing autonomy, and Westminster can easily take it away.

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What we do have are numerous devolution and local government statutes, all defining and limiting what various authorities can and cannot do.

There is no real autonomy – even for the Scottish parliament.

No ability to do things despite what the Westminster parliament would like an authority to do.

Ambitious projects by local authorities – such as when the Victorian town of Birmingham (not even yet a city) went and bought and operated its own gas and water industries – would be impossible now.

That is real de-centralisation and devolution – doing things the centre cannot stop.

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The second problem for de-centralisation and devolution is in respect of policy and administration, rather than law.

It is the sheer dominance of HM Treasury in Whitehall and the public sector more generally.

For example, HM Treasury has a monopoly in respect of almost all fiscal and financial – that is, tax-raising and borrowing – powers.

(Even the Scottish parliament has limited autonomy to vary income tax rates and the Scottish government power to borrow money.)

And no public body has complete fiscal autonomy – and, indeed, many public bodies rely on central government for grants and financing.

It is unlikely that Whitehall will happily allow regional authorities and devolved administrations absolute power to raise taxes and borrow money.

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And now back to the word “control”.

Unless regional authorities and devolved administrations have absolute power to raise taxes and borrow money, or to make rules and mount ambitions problems, then they do not have “control”.

Instead, “control” will stay – as it always does – with Westminster and Whitehall.

Westminster and Whitehall can extend the leash, but they can pull the leash back.

That is not “control”.

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Looking more closely at Starmer’s speech, it is not clear to whom this “control” is to be actually given.

Consider the following passages (emphases added):

“…the Britain that Labour can build. A fairer, greener, more dynamic country with an economy that works for everyone, not just those at the top. And a politics which trusts communities with the power to control their destiny.

Giving communities the chance to control their economic destiny. The argument is devastatingly simple.”

“It’s not unreasonable for us to recognise the desire for communities to stand on their own feet. It’s what Take Back Control meant. The control people want is control over their lives and their community.

“We need to turbo-charge this potential, but Westminster can’t do that on its own, it can only do it with communities. That’s why Labour will give them the trust. The power. And the control.

And so on.

There is noting specific here as to who will get this supposed “control”.

Will it be existing local authorities or new regional bodies?

Will it be new legal entities smaller than existing councils?

And – most importantly if this really is about “control” – what will happen if those “communities” want to do something which Westminster and Whitehall do not want them to do?

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Starmer did list some of the topics where there could be devolution of powers: “employment support, transport, energy, climate change, housing, culture, childcare provision and how councils run their finances”.

But devolution is not granting “control”, as there will be limits to what even the most ambitious local authority will be able to do in the face of any opposition from Westminster and Whitehall.

And there is also a respectable argument – which you may or may not endorse – than on issues such as transport and housing, there needs to be far less local autonomy, not more, so for us as to escape the ongoing blight of NIMBYism.

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Starmer insisted in his speech that the “Take Back Control” will be turned from “a slogan to a solution”.

And it we missed the import of that rhetorical turn, Starmer then said it will be turned from “a catchphrase into change”.

(This is reminiscent of his predecessor Tony Blair’s wonderful statement once that “[a] day like today is not a day for soundbites, we can leave those at home, but I feel the hand of history upon our shoulder with respect to this, I really do.”)

But there is nothing in this speech which does go beyond slogans and catchphrases.

There is no substance to the supposed “controls” which are to be given “back”.

And there is nothing specific as to whom or what those “controls” are to be given.

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You may have Very Strong Opinions on de-centralisation and devolution.

You may welcome Starmer’s speech as a good and welcome signal of change.

You may oppose it as it may mean impediments to policies which may need to be directed at the national level.

But what one cannot say is that it tells us much, if anything, about how de-centralisation and devolution is to work in practice.

And it says nothing about how – at least in England – local authorities can break free from the real controls of Westminster and Whitehall.

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New post at Substack: 2021 and 2022 were the years constitutionalism was tested

31st December 2022

Over at Substack, for paying subscribers, I have posted a 2000 word essay (with even some multi-sentence paragraphs!) reviewing 2021 and 2022 from a constitutionalist perspective.

I will be doing such an essay at Substack every week on Friday for paying subscribers.

(These essays will also be cross-posted on Patreon – and I will also email copies to anyone who has made a PayPal contribution in the last year – just make a “Private” comment below asking for this.)

Normal daily, free-to-read blogging on law and policy will resume here on Monday.

Thank you for reading and supporting this blog.

I wish you a happy and constitutionally dull new year.

Law vs Lore

8th December 2022

When I decided to start a Substack I also had to decide what to call it.

I could not call it “law and policy” as that is the name of this blog.

Dear old folkloric wizard “Jack of Kent” is safely dead and buried.

And so I settled on “law and lore” as that put together two things which not only interest me but also are more closely connected than many people realise.

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Let me explain.

Many of those reading this blog will not be lawyers and so have had little need to look up the raw black-letter texts of the law – in statutes, case reports and elsewhere.

Even those of you with the unfortunate affliction of being a lawyer, will not always have read the black-letter texts of every law about which you will have a view or an understanding.

And in society generally, a great deal of the law in practice is what people believe it to be – or should be.

“You cannot do that.”

“I cannot do that.”

“That is not allowed.”

“I have my rights.”

“Technically you are not allowed to do this.”

“Technically if you do this you don’t break a law.”

And so on.

Entire areas of law are, in practice, mini belief systems where people are confident about what the law is, free from ever looking it up: data protection, health and safety, consumer rights, Magna Carta.

And on the political plane, belief is (or was) a great deal of our uncodified convention: a general sense of balance and self-restraint.

This all fascinates me.

I have often wondered what an alien looking down would work out about our laws and legal system just by watching what people do and do not do.

Would such a Martian’s account correspond to what our legal texts say about the law?

And so my view is that to understand law in practice, one has to have an understanding of lore, which I see is helpfully defined online as “a body of traditions and knowledge on a subject or held by a particular group, typically passed from person to person by word of mouth”.

This is not to say that it is consciously invented: those with strong opinions about the law usually believe that they are actually correct.

Sometimes there is a close relationship between law and lore – in, for example, mercantile law, the practices of business folk often give rise to enforceable legal obligations.

And sometimes there are stark discrepancies: for example, data protection in practice often has no relationship with data protection as set out in law.

I would like to explore this distinction between law and lore more in future posts in particular areas.

Let me know if you have any ideas for subjects of such posts.

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Comments are welcome, but they are pre-moderated and comments will not be published if irksome.

Centralisation is inevitable in the United Kingdom, unless there are radical reforms which no government will make

5th December 2022

The former prime minister Gordon Brown, on behalf of the opposition Labour party, has put forward proposals for de-centralising the state of the United Kingdom.

This is rather ironic in that Brown, as chancellor of the exchequer, was one of the most centralising ministers of modern times.

Under Brown the Treasury dominated Whitehall and the civil service generally, and it also sought to enforce discipline on the public sector generally.

(I know this, as I was a civil service lawyer at Brown’s Office of Government Commerce, which was one of the ways the Treasury sought to control and shape central and local government.)

Perhaps Brown has since had a conversion.

He was, after all, the politician who once gave away the powers of the Treasury in respect of interest rates to an independent Bank of England.

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But the problem of centralisation is bigger than Brown or any one politician.

Centralisation is the gravitational pull of the constitution of the United Kingdom.

The force can be bucked from time-to-time, but it will always be there.

In legal terms, the gravitational pull comes from the doctrines of the supremacy of parliament and the royal prerogative.

All public bodies, other than parliament and the crown, are subject to the ultimate control of law made by the crown-in-parliament.

Even the Scottish Parliament, as the Supreme Court recently decided, is effectively no more than a statutory corporation subject to a strict rule of ultra vires.

Local government bodies are in similar but worse positions.

In policy and political terms, a further gravitational pull comes from the Treasury.

The Treasury dominates public spending and public revenues.

No other public body is likely to be given absolute autonomy over spending and revenues.

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Politicians may go through the motions of de-centralisation, with a token development here and some well-meaning gesture there.

But the fundamental forces generated by the Westminster parliament and HM Treasury will not go away.

It would only be by devolution and regional settlements so radical that the powers of Westminster and Whitehall were vanquished forever that de-centralisation would be sustainable.

Self-denial would not enough – what would be needed would be constitutional self-destruction.

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This self-destruction is never going to happen – at least not easily.

Scotland and Wales are not going to be granted dominion status, like Australia or Canada, with their Parliament and Senedd being co-equal with Westminster’s assembly.

The regions are not going to be permitted to become like American states or German Länder, with powers that no central government can gainsay.

But without such radical constitutional surgery, the relentless force of centralisation will be there.

No United Kingdom government is going to freely give away its legislative power in parliament or its policy dominance with the Treasury.

And so we will just have tokens and gestures of de-centralisation again, only to fail; and then – in a few more years – these motions of de-centralisation will be repeated, and they will fail again.

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The secularisation of the United Kingdom state

1st December 2022

If you pick up a constitutional law text of a certain age you may find passages, perhaps even a chapter, setting out the relationship between the government of the United Kingdom and the Church of England.

You may even get passages on the Church of Scotland and the now disestablished Churches of Wales and of Ireland.

Next year at the coronation, there will be a great deal of religious content to the ceremony – and even when Charles III acceded earlier this year, one of the first required acts was to swear an oath in respect of the Church of Scotland.

Meanwhile bishops of the Church of England sit in the House of Lords and in our courts the first thing a judge and a jury will find out about you as a witness is whether you believe in a god or not.

Just over one hundred years ago, the state was even more fused with the church and, before 1828-32, some historians even speak of a “confessional state” which, at least in England, structurally privileged the Church of England.

The established churches were (and to a limited still extent still are) part of the constitution of the United Kingdom – if that constitution is understood descriptively as the answer to the question: how is the United Kingdom constituted.

As a non-militant atheist, I would welcome a state which was suddenly and entirely secularised, that is if it could be done painlessly in an instant of a blink.

But as someone interested in practical constitutional reform, I am less enthusiastic about disestablishment, given the time and trouble it would take.

Yes, get rid of the bishops from their automatic seats in the legislature, and also get rid of the presumption in favour of religious oaths in courts.

But that is about it: the rest can join the long list of constitutional reforms it would be nice to have, but not perhaps yet.

This is, ironically, an Anglican form of atheism: a via media between being religious and militant atheism.

And given the relationship between the Crown and the Church of England in particular under the new King – the defender of faith, without any definite article – there is no likelihood of any disestablishment in the near future.

So the current compromise will continue for a while.

That is: four nations; two established churches; and one of those established churches with seats in parliament.

And it is: a semi-confessional state at a time where there are many religious faiths in society, as well as an increasing amount of us free from any religious faith.

If we were starting from scratch, we would probably not give the Church of England such an elevated position within our polity – just as we would not now build that nice parish church around the corner.

But given that it is there, we cannot be bothered to get rid of it entirely.

And many of the parish churches are quaint to look at, and nice to visit about this time of year.

Let us put disestablishment off to another year.

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Why we should cheer Owen Paterson taking his case to the European Court of Human Rights

29th November 2022

The former member of parliament Owen Paterson is taking a case to the European Court of Human Rights.

There is nothing wrong with this.

Indeed, there is everything right about him doing so.

Paterson is a European human aggrieved about his fundamental rights, and he has the protection of the convention that guarantees his human rights.

It is for such aggrieved persons that the convention exists.

Indeed, the convention protects the rights of all humans subject to the jurisdictions of signatory states, and some of the convention rights even extend to legal persons such as companies.

Paterson has as much right as any other person in a convention state to petition the Strasbourg court.

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But.

Paterson as a politician sought to remove the protection of the European Convention on Human Rights from other people.

In 2014, Paterson argued not only for the United Kingdom to take a restricted view of its obligations under the convention, but for the whole lot to go:

“Much of the problematical immigration into this country stems not just from the EU but from the European Court of Human Rights.

“This is exacerbated by the rulings of judges in the court at Strasbourg and by our own UK courts implementing the Human Rights Act.

“Repeal of the HRA and adoption of a new Bill of Rights, breaking free from the ECHR, would also relieve us of migrant pressure, include such absurdities as not being able to deport illegal immigrants who come to Calais, because – according to our judges – France is not a ‘safe’ country for asylum seekers.”

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Now Paterson – through his lawyers – says he is going to Strasbourg.

Presumably this means he now believes that we should not be “breaking free” from the convention just yet, and that he would rather like a non “exacerbating” judgment from the judges at Strasbourg.

To the credit of his lawyers, they appreciate (and anticipate) the sheer absurdity of their client’s position:

“The irony that Mr Paterson, a vocal opponent of European institutions, should be seeking the help of the ECHR is not lost.”

Well.

You could say that.

And the sentence that then follows in the lawyers’ press release is just beautiful:

“But he has no other choice, as the Government has yet to meet its promise of repatriating human rights law to Britain, hence the application to Strasbourg.”

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He has no other choice.

And that is the very point of human rights law, and of international human rights conventions and international human rights courts.

They are all there as a last resort, for those with no other choice.

When you have a grievance that local forms of law have failed you, and when you believe fundamental rights should mean that your legal position is different from how you have been treated, then this is when you should be able to rely on your human rights in accordance with international law instruments, and seek a remedy at an international court.

And it should not matter if the right you are relying on is about fair trials, or torture, or free expression, or privacy.

Those migrants about whom Paterson complained in 2014 also “had no other choice”.

Various people have “had no other choice”.

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Paterson’s petition to the Strasbourg court may not succeed.

His complaint about parliamentary rules and procedures may not gain the favour of the Strasbourg judges.

The complaint is somewhat ambitious:

“The applicant complains that his Article 8 rights were infringed, as the public finding that he had breached the Code of Conduct damaged his good reputation, and that the process by which the allegations against him were investigated and considered was not fair in many basic respects.

“Communicated under Article 8.”

(Yes, Article 8 – and it is not clear why the complaint is not (also) under Article 6.)

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Paterson deserves a fair hearing of his petition.

Paterson is right to ask the Strasbourg court to apply international human rights standards to the parliament of the United Kingdom to see if our parliament is found wanting.

He is right not to be swayed by notions of “parliamentary supremacy” and “national sovereignty”.

Other politicians have only managed to get the parliament of the United Kingdom to pass legislation giving effect to the European Convention on Human Rights.

Paterson wants to go a grand step further and subject parliament itself to the convention.

He wishes, to adopt some jargon, for our “political constitution” to be judicialised according to European legal standards.

If he succeeds, Parliament will be obliged to change its own processes by a European institution.

Of course: it is a pity that Paterson sought to prevent others from protecting their rights at Strasbourg.

However, if he succeeds in this claim, he may do more to subject our polity as a whole to the European Convention of Human Rights than any politician since the Human Rights Act 1998 was passed.

This blog wishes him luck.

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Comments are welcome, but they are pre-moderated and comments will not be published if irksome.