Category: Courts and the administration of justice

How the government won but also lost the court case on Rwanda removal policy

19th December 2022

Today the High Court handed down its judgment in respect of the many legal claims brought against the Rwanda removal policy.

On the face of it, the government of the United Kingdom appear to have won – and that is certainly how the judgment has been reported:

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But.

In two ways the government has not won, and indeed this may not be a welcome judgment for the government.

Let me explain.

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The wide legal challenge was to the policy.

In effect the policy is as follows: the Home Secretary can decide that asylum claims made in the United Kingdom should not be determined here, and that instead the persons who have made those claims should be removed to Rwanda to have their asylum claims determined there.

A legal challenge to any policy is always difficult – almost impossible.

This is partly because courts do not like intervening in matters of policy, as opposed to reviewing particular rules and individual decisions.

It is also partly because to say that a policy is unlawful means, in effect, that every possible rule made under that policy and every possible decision made under that policy will be unlawful.

And it is partly because policies can be adapted and modified so that the possibility of the policy itself always being unlawful can be avoided.

A policy is always the hardest target to hit in the administrative law courts.

It was therefore no great surprise that the High Court in this case – with a bench comprised of the two most experiences judges in administrative law matters – rejected the challenge to the policy as a whole.

And so, the government “won”.

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The government, however, also lost.

In the eight individual cases under review, the High Court decided that the removal decisions be quashed and the Home Secretary take the decisions again with proper regard to individual circumstances.

Look at the final paragraph carefully:

That paragraph indicates that the government lost on nineteen particular decisions in this case.

Nineteen.

Each of those nineteen decisions was legally flawed: every single one.

The policy may well be lawful – but in not one case was the policy lawfully applied.

And so the the government lost all the individual cases.

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Now we come to the real defeat for the government.

The import of the High Court decision is that in respect of each removal to Rwanda under the policy, the Home Office has to apply the policy in a robust and reasoned manner to the individual circumstances of each case in each of the decisions to be made.

Otherwise the removal will be successfully appealed or reviewed.

But for page after page of this judgment there is a catalogue of Home Office errors in respect of each of the cases.

The impression one forms reading the judgment as a whole is that, with the resources and administrative competence available, the Home Office simply is not capable of making all the individual decisions so that many removals to Rwanda are likely.

For the legal issue with decisions which need to be made on individual circumstances is that each decision can be appealed or otherwise legally challenged according to those circumstances.

Or to put it another way: the government has legally saved its Rwandan removal policy at the expense of making the lawful implementation of that policy extraordinarily resource-intensive and financially expensive.

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Of course, this judgment may be appealed by the claimants – though it seems at first read a strong judgment by two highly regarded judges in this field, and I do not think an appeal would be likely to succeed.

And so perhaps the policy under challenge may actually be implemented – though it seems there are no current plans to send any asylum seekers to Rwanda.

But.

Even if this policy is one day lawfully implemented – if – it will be always be an administrative and financial drain of the highest order on the Home Office and thereby the taxpayer.

Many will say that the policy is immoral and should be dropped on that basis alone.

Being immoral, however, does not make a policy unlawful.

But a policy being lawful also does not make it practicable.

The government and its supporters may raise a cheer that the policy is itself has been held to be not unlawful.

But today’s judgment means that – like the chartered flights to Rwanda last summer – the lawful implementation of the policy may never really get off the ground.

 

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What is the remedy? And why this question matters in public interest litigation.

6th December 2022

The Good Law Project has lost another court case.

This was the use by government of WhatsApp, about which there was political controversy.

But.

Towards the end of the judgment there are these two paragraphs (emphasis added):

70. In the light of our conclusions, both the appeal and the Good Law Project’s claim for judicial review should be dismissed. We should, however, record that when permission to apply for judicial review was granted the Good Law Project had made a serious allegation (based on claims from the former Chief Advisor) that fake meeting records and notes were being made. Such conduct, if proved, would have been unlawful on a number of different public law grounds. The conduct was not, however, proved and the allegation was dropped without clear notice to the Ministers or to the court, as appears from [15]–[18] of the judgment of the Divisional Court.

“71. Thereafter the focus of the claim shifted to the breach of the eight policies. It was not, however, clear, at least until the draft order was produced on the second day of the appeal, exactly what relief was being sought. It is true that the particulars of the policies and the evidence suggesting breaches of the policies were not available at the time that the claim form and statement of facts and grounds were prepared. It is, however, also right to note that the policies and the evidence about breaches were disclosed by the Ministers and became known during the proceedings. The Good Law Project amended its statement of facts and grounds accordingly. But the claim for relief remained unparticularised in the amended Statement of Facts and Grounds. The fact that a claimant is unable or unwilling to particularise the relief that they seek, may be an indication that the claim should not be pursued.“

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This is a problem for a great deal of seemingly public interest litigation – and not just with this particular claimant.

(I think the GLP do some good things, though I am not an uncritical fan.)

There is a newsworthy wrong – a public grievance – and so somebody goes to court.

It is almost as if going to a court is an end in and of itself.

Litigation as theatre, or as therapy, or as a proxy for politics.

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But.

From a practical lawyers’ perspective, that approach is back-to-front.

As a trainee and as a junior litigation solicitor, I was taught to always think backwards from the remedy.

The primary questions were: What is the actual remedy your client is seeking? And how do you go about obtaining that remedy?

Turning up to court with a sense of “what do we ask for now?” means, in my view, there has been a failure in litigation tactics or strategy.

Of course: sometimes where you can show there is a plain wrong, a judge may come up with their own remedy.

This is the sort of thing Denning used to do.

But a claimant or applicant must always be conscious as to what they are actually asking for from a judge.

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This is not a problem about a particular claimant.

It is instead a wider problem about politically charged, crowd-funded and/or pressure group brought claims.

“We think this is wrong, so we are going to court!” is not sufficient.

What are you going to court for?

What are you asking the judge to do?

For as the judge here pointed out: “The fact that a claimant is unable or unwilling to particularise the relief that they seek, may be an indication that the claim should not be pursued.”

Public outrage does not mean, by itself, that a judge can grant a remedy – or even find any legal breach.

It is not always the case that where there is blame there is a claim.

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Prisons will not be reformed until and unless we rethink our views on punishment and retribution

2nd December 2022

Here is the introduction to a thing about prisons I wrote at the Financial Times in 2013:

We are all, of course, familiar with the notion of prisons – and many of us will have Very Strong Opinions about the lengths of custodial sentences:

“Six years! Eight years! Fifteen years! More, more!”

“Higher, higher, higher!”

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But.

For the reasons set out in that Financial Times piece, prisons are a strange as well as counter-productive idea for dealing with most crimes.

Prisons, generally speaking, are an expensive way of making bad people worse.

But the notion of incarceration is so deeply embedded in our collective consciousness it takes real effort to dislodge it.

It was not always like this.

In some earlier times, prisons were where you kept those charged with a crime until their cases could be heard and any sentences – capital, corporal, transportation – could be imposed.

Imprisonment itself was thereby a means to an end, rather than the punishment for criminal activity.

(The position for civil matters was different, with the debtors’ prisons, asylums and workhouses, all keeping certain undesirables out of the way.)

Around 1800 imprisonment became the normal punishment itself for crime – though for many onlookers the loss of liberty was not enough: prisons also had to be as miserable if not brutal as possible.

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And little, if any, thought is ever given to the (innocent) families and dependents of those incarcerated.

If they are thought about at all, it is with a shrug and a vague idea that it is the criminals who are to be blamed and/or that their (innocent) families and dependents are tainted by association.

And so that the innocent suffer becomes an output of the criminal justice system, as well as the protection of the innocent being the system’s supposed purpose.

The state has to destroy innocent lives, so as to protect them.

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There are at least two problems for any reform of prisons.

The first is that imprisonment is central to how society thinks about the punishment of crime.

A convicted person receiving a range of sanctions will still be described “as walking free from court” by outraged newspapers to their outraged readers.

The second is a consensus of what should replace imprisonment, especially given the popular view that retribution is the central purpose of punishment.

Of course, those who pose a danger to others or commit murders and other serious offences against the person should be locked away – and, unlike many liberals, I even support whole-life tariffs in exceptional circumstances.

But until and unless we rethink our views about punishment and retribution, the current expensive and damaging system will continue, for want of any alternative.

I was once asked what current day practice would be looked on in the future as akin to how we now see those who facilitated slavery.

My answer, more with hope than expectation, was: incarceration being considered the norm for punishments, with any alternative having to be justified.

Anyway, this post was triggered by reading this piece in the Guardian.

Let me know below what you think – about the points I set out above and the Guardian article, and what you think about prisons and imprisonment as punishment generally.

***

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

Of “echo chambers” and “preaching to the converted”

10th November 2022

Some places – like courts and legislatures – have shared rules for discourse.

But courts and legislatures are not “echo chambers”.

Certain things are not readily said, and certain hard things are to be said softly.

This is not because there are not disputes – and some differences may be fundamental and life-changing.

It is because shared rules for discourse enable constructive engagements and facilitate important exchanges.

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But.

For some on the internet, the slightest suggestion that there can be shared rules for discourse triggers (ahem) the instant accusation that you want to be in an “echo chamber” or that you “want to preach to the converted” or want to be in “a bubble”.

These phrases – clichés – are usually substitutes for thought.

Yet so accustomed are many to the shoutiness and rancour of internet exchanges that the merest suggestion that there can be shared rules for discourse is seen as some sort of assault on “free speech”.

Shared rules are not, however, undermining of dialogue – they instead make meaningful dialogue possible.

Shouting at people – either in real life or on the internet – is a form of monologue, especially if it inhibits the other person from engaging, or saying something they would like to say.

As such the real echo chambers and preached at choirs are not platforms where there are shared rules, but places where such rules are disdained.

Places like Twitter.

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On this blog I will write things which a number of readers will disagree with: Brexit (where I am ultimately neutral in principle, though critical in practice), codified constitutions (where I am sceptical), electoral reform (where I am wary), and so on.

And the commenters on this blog – many of whom provide comments that are better quality and more informed/informative than my head post – will engage, often with other perspectives.

You can then form your own view.

Pre-moderation and my “irksome” rule prevents comments derailing the discussion.

(And, in practice, few comments are not published.)

As such, I do not think this blog is an “echo chamber”, or that I am “preaching to the converted” (though I sometimes wish I could convert more of you to my idiosyncratic views).

*

In practice, accusations such as “echo chamber” and “preaching to the converted” can be rhetorical devices to shut down unwanted forms of discourse.

The important thing is that if you want a platform that suits you then you should be free to use a platform that suits you.

And do not be afraid of comments such as “echo chamber” and “preaching to the converted”.

Guest Post: Adam Wagner’s Emergency State reviewed by the legendary police blogger Nightjack

18th October 2022

The legal blogger Adam Wagner has written a book about the coronavirus regulations.

But the internet does not need another post by one legal blogger saying another legal blogger is wonderful, and so I asked someone else to review it.

Richard Horton was a police sergeant in Lancashire tasked with making sense of and enforcing the regulations on a daily basis, and so I asked him to do the review.

Horton also happens to be the legendary former police blogger known as Nightjack, winner of the Orwell Prize in 2009 – and it is a great honour for this blog to publish his guest post.

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Emergency State by Adam Wagner

Review by Richard Horton

 

A few years ago I was a jobbing Police Sergeant on a response team in South Lancashire. My hair was short, my beard was goatee and life was good, busy, but good.

Enter stage left the wily Chief Inspector of my parish with a cunning plan. “Richard” he said, “we have a job that needs doing at Licensing Sergeant. Could you take it on?”

I was on the far side of 50 with a borked right knee. Retirement was only a few years away. The joys of managing an ever increasing workload with ever decreasing resources and dealing with the belligerent antisocial at weekends were beginning to fade.

I was being offered one of those fabled “glide path to retirement” jobs.  This was the Licensing Department, a small team that knew the job better than me, lots of meetings, the occasional licence review. This was the job to see me out to my pension, and all I had to do was to get my head round the Licensing Act.

Of course I snatched his arm off.

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I settled into the new post fairly quickly. There was a first month punctuated by my wise staff coughing gently and saying “Errm Sarge, you can’t actually do that” and I was lucky enough to do some barrister-led training in licensing.

I had my feet underneath me, everything was going well and then March 2020 happened.

From then on, my colleagues and I had to operate in a rapidly mutating landscape of laws and regulations that soon resembled the hedge in Sleeping Beauty.

The world had caught a virus and here in England, the Government tried to take control.

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Nightly, ministers appeared on radio and television making policy pronouncements about the State of Emergency. From the start, there was a disconnect between what was being said and what was being written into the regulations.

On one notorious occasion, a local night club operator understood this and used better reading and barrister advice on those regulations to stay open until the last possible minute when the local council and I had convinced ourselves that the venue should close.

My team and I would literally huddle round our little office radio waiting for the latest press conference. I would wait expectantly for the publication of each iteration of the regulations. We then had to go out and enforce this stuff.

The simple life of a Licensing Sergeant was suddenly complicated. I vividly remember right at the start taking a police van out along the Merseyside border to check on some outlying pubs. I passed many groups of people, families as far as I could tell, who were going on a walk  for exercise. In many cases they looked very uncomfortable seeing a police van approach. I just smiled and waved. Some smiled and waved back. Some didn’t. It felt very strange.

Despite my best efforts, I could not reconcile the briefings to what was coming out in the regulations. Guidance from above was still some distance away. Policing was taking a “let a hundred flowers bloom” approach to enforcement. Things were getting muddled.

I thought I understood what it all meant. I became a sort of one eyed go-to for colleagues but in truth I just was not sure.

Into that chaos stepped Adam Wagner, a human rights barrister at Doughty Street Chambers. He was doing the hard work of reading, understanding and explaining the Coronavirus regulations for the rest of us. It came as some relief to have his work as a reference that proved more reliable and helpful than any amount of briefing and policy announcements.

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Almost inevitably, having stepped into the very centre of the storm, Wagner has now written a book about the State of Emergency and called it Emergency State.

As a history of the times it struck me as entirely accurate. As I read the book there were may moments where I was right back in the Licensing Office reading the latest regulation and thinking “Umm, OK, how are we going to make this work? Actually can we make this work?”

What was a substantial meal? Did a Scotch Egg count? Was the rule of 6 households, acquaintances, indoor, outdoor, socially distanced, masked? What distance was a social distance?  How loud could you sing at the karaoke? Was it a nightclub or a multi-use licensed venue? What actually was a nightclub? What parts of my responsibilities were in what tier?

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As soon as my copy of Emergency State arrived I was inevitably drawn to pages 66-68 of the book, Police – understanding of rules.

Wagner dip sampled police officers on their understanding of the regulations and as I feared, he found that the unenforceable guidance had been rolled up into the law by some of my colleagues.

He is generally sympathetic to our plight but rightly points out that in the State of Confusion, many people were given police instructions that were not based on any legal power and many fixed penalty notices were given out that should not have been.

This is important stuff when the police had been given such great power and authority. Policing should learn from this because in the cold light of hindsight, it will diminish our legitimacy.

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From the beginning Wagner sets out that this was a real emergency. There was a virus, it was killing many people, there was no cure, little effective treatment and no vaccine. There was a real prospect of NHS resources being overwhelmed.

He doesn’t claim any special medical knowledge but he understood early the value of bringing his experience and knowledge as a barrister to bear on getting a proper understanding of the scope and power of each development of the Coronavirus regulations. It is a balanced and thorough view. Many times as a I read Emergency State I found myself thinking “Yes Adam but….” only to find that my but was addressed a few paragraphs later.

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The book is helpfully organised chronologically with each chapter headed up by the relevant dates and poignantly the cumulative Coronavirus death toll.

Chapter 6 – Patchwork Summer took me back to that incredibly good summer in 2020 when I spent time patrolling parks with local council staff because there was a local political opinion that somehow groups of people gathering legally in a public park to enjoy picnics and cold beers from the local off licences was a thing to be stopped. Those gatherings were not stopped but we had to look.

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If I had to pick one chapter to survive it would be Chapter 8 – Step By Step.

We should never forget “Partygate” and Wagner sets out persuasive evidence that inside government, things were much closer to the Versailles court of the Sun King than to say, Battle of Britain era Fighter Command.

I read this chapter with a near constant smile. Who had kept all the receipts? Who knew what regulations were being flouted on which dates? Who could definitively say “You broke your own regulations, the ones that you made”? Who could point out that the Metropolitan Police policy on retrospective enforcement of the regulations explicitly allowed and indeed encouraged retrospective investigations into something like “Partygate”?

This comes as a conclusion to one of Wagner’s central themes that for about two years there was an exercise in strong use of state power with very little effective scrutiny. As a country we largely rolled with it but those thorny thickets of regulation  were often poorly thought out, impractical and unfair. All the while, behind the palace walls there was hedonistic exceptionalism.

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As I read this book, I could always feel Wagner setting out his evidence and heading towards conclusions. It is well written and accessible and it has to be to coherently draw together the ratcheting of fiat law into everything from the public joy of a walk in the country to the private joy of the bedroom. This is no dry legal telling of the tale. It takes the reader back into the daily history, the tragedies and the fear of Coronavirus. It has a narrative that you can feel.

If I were to clumsily summarise it, I would say that a State of Emergency was necessary but we somehow ended up with an Emergency State.

There are lessons to be learned about keeping that state in some sort of effective balance and on this occasion neither the courts or the legislature were particularly effective.

We (mostly) willingly surrendered many freedoms and although they were eventually returned to us, a blueprint for making further lock downs and restrictions on our freedoms with weak scrutiny and little ongoing accountability is now known. Without scrutiny and accountability we may be left solely reliant on the wisdom and responsibility of our state which is a bad thing.  Will those lessons be remembered when we pass this way again?

Probably not I think but if they are, this book Emergency State will be a good start for anybody that wants to know what really happened and more importantly, how it happened.

Richard Horton

TAFKA NightJack

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The curious incident of the “absolutely devastating” Johnson legal opinion is now even curiouser

27th September 2022

You will recall the “absolutely devastating” legal opinion provided for the then prime minister Boris Johnson.

This was in respect of the work of inquiry of the House of Commons privileges committee into whether Johnson had committed a contempt of parliament in respect of his seemingly misleading statements on the floor of the house.

On 1st September 2022, it was reported on a newspaper website:

“An insider said of the QC’s legal advice: ‘It is absolutely devastating.’”

And on the front page of that newspaper’s print edition dated 2 September 2022 we were told:

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This would have been huge, if true.

The capital-o Opinion in question was this – signed by two barristers as instructed by a leading criminal firm of solicitors.

The Opinion is also dated the same day as the newspaper website article: 1 September 2022.

This must mean that the source of the “absolutely devastating” quote either was referring to a draft form of the Opinion or was providing a view the same day that the Opinion was signed.

We now know that the cost of this legal advice was between £112,700 and £129,500 of taxpayers’ money, as the following tender information was published by the government on 2 September 2022:

(Hat-tip Aubrey Allegretti, here and here.)

This tender information indicates there was no competitive procurement exercise: the government seems to have gone straight to the leading criminal defence firm in early August 2022.

That firm, in turn, instructed two public law barristers (not criminal law specialists).

What is remarkable about this procurement is that the government has its own legal service, with many specialists on matters of parliamentary procedure.

(Which is obvious, if you think about it, given the close working relationship between departments and Parliament.)

There is no obvious good reason, if this was a governmental matter (rather than a matter for Johnson as a Member of Parliament) why this advice could not have been arranged by the government legal service who would have instructed barristers on the Treasury panel.

Indeed, it is odd that this was not done – especially as the junior barrister involved is already on the Treasury panel.

Why were the instructions routed through an external law firm and not the Treasury Solicitor – especially as this is not a criminal law matter?

Who authorised this procurement and use of public money?

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Indeed, as this blog has already averred, it is not obvious that this was a legal matter at all, let alone a criminal law matter.

The matter is entirely one of parliamentary procedure – and is not thereby justiciable by any court.

In my view there is even force in the argument that the Opinion does not contain any legal opinion.

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We now know that on 2 September 2022 – the day after the Opinion was dated and the “absolutely devastating” quote was given to the newspaper – that Johnson wrote to the privileges committee:

One curious point here is that he refers to a previous letter to the committee of 12 August 2022 – which is four days after the date of the end procurement law advice, see:

This must mean that the decision to procure external legal advice preceded his letter of 12 August 2022, and so presumably that letter was also informed by the external advice obtained.

You will also see in this letter that Johnson says that “[i]n light of the exceptional circumstances and to ensure public and Parliamentary scrutiny” that he was “placing a copy of the legal opinion in the Library of the House and on the gov.uk website`’.

This is odd.

For as the expert in parliamentary procedure Alexander Horne points out:

There can be no good reason why the Opinion was not just submitted to the committee without publicity – especially if the content of the Opinion was genuinely “absolutely devastating”.

Johnson mentions that he is publishing the letter on the government website [i]n light of the exceptional circumstances and to ensure public and Parliamentary scrutiny” .

But these “ exceptional circumstances” are not particularised, and the committee itself is the means of “public and Parliamentary scrutiny”.

The only plausible explanation that fits the available information is that the Opinion was published on the government website so as to place media and public pressure on the privileges committee.

This would explain how the Opinion went from being finalised, the “absolutely devastating” quote being given to the media, the sending of the 2 September 2022 letter and the publication of the Opinion the same day:Given that publishing the Opinion would mean that legal professional privilege may have been waived (to the extent that the Opinion was covered by legal professional privilege in the first place), and given it would also mean that the Opinion would also not be covered by parliamentary privilege, the publication of the Opinion on the government website was a high-risk strategy.

The only explanation I can think for this is that the Opinion was commissioned by Johnson for the purpose of that publication.

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As this blog set out, the Opinion is not strong.

This is not just my view as a random legal blogger, but also that of the professor of public law at the University of Cambridge.

Indeed, there cannot be many weaker legal opinions that have ever been published.

That the Opinion was weak has now also been stated by the parliamentary committee itself, in a special report on the Opinion.

The committee in a mere six pages of its report refutes (and not just rebuts) the twenty-two page Opinion.

The committee’s report is, well, absolutely devastating.

The language is extraordinarily strong for such a report – for example, at paragraph 12:

“We consider this concern to be wholly misplaced and itself misleading.”

At paragraph 6, the committee says the Opinion“is founded on a systemic misunderstanding of the parliamentary process and misplaced analogies with the criminal law”.

And so on.

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Caption: legal commentators reading the committee report

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The committee, which is being advised by a former Lord Justice of Appeal who was president of the tribunal service (who can be expected to know about procedural fairness), could not have been more brutal about the merits of the Opinion.

And this is a committee which has Conservative members as well as opposition members.

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This whole exercise is rather strange.

This blogpost, like the previous blogpost, has not named the lawyers – and this is because we simply do not know what their respective instructions were.

And, as such, it would be unfair to name them in this context.

This is not just libel-speak – and there is nothing in this post which should make you think worse of any of the lawyers involved.

A lawyer is only as good as their instructions.

Instead the criticism should be for Johnson, who appears to have sought to bring media and public pressure to bear on the privileges committee by using public money to procure an opinion to be placed on the government’s website.

There was no obvious reason why this was a matter for the taxpayer, and there is no good reason why the Opinion was published on gov.uk on 2 September 2022.

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Perhaps the committee will find there was no contempt.

Perhaps the matter will just go away.

Perhaps there will be a political feeling that the former Prime Minister has been punished enough.

Who knows.

But what is certain is that there should be fresh consideration of the procurement of and publication of legal opinions by ministers (of any party).

Something rather irregular happened here, and it is not the sort of thing which should happen again.

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The magical thinking of Donald Trump

22nd September 2022

A theme of this blog is that law is akin to magic, and that law and lore have a good deal in common.

For example:

But the comparison is only made as a-kind-of-analogy.

I never thought that when writing about law in modern times I would come across actual magical thinking.

I was wrong.

Consider this:

Here the proposition is not that Trump could unilaterally, by some form of words, either in writing or said aloud, change the classification of documents.

The proposition is that by thinking a thing, with that thought having no other trace or manifestation, then a classification of a document can change.

This would mean that the legal consequences for other people with reference to that document would be different, even though there was no record of Trump’s thoughts, because Trump had thought one thing or another.

And, presumably, Trump can classify the document by thoughts alone, as well as de-classify it.

Perhaps he could even in turns classify and de-classify a document every few moments, and nobody would ever know.

It would be an extraordinary thing – even supernatural and paranormal.

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Of course, what is (probably) going on is that Trump is resorting to the only defence he thinks he has left, which accords with the evidence.

There is no actual evidence of de-classification, then his explanation needs to deal with that absence.

There is also the implicit point that if he accepts these are documents which he “de-classified” then they were not “planted” – as that defence would seem to contradict his purported “de-classification”.

It is all very odd.

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Stepping back, it would seem Trump has realised that he is in serious legal jeopardy.

If anyone else had been found with such classified documents without authority or lawful excuse then that person would no doubt have been arrested and charged, convicted and imprisoned.

The only difference here is whether the law applies to Trump as it applies to others.

Or is there a legal privilege for Trump?

This is a hard question for the rule of law: is there one law (or lack of law) for him and one for others?

Perhaps following his exercise in magical thinking, Trump would accept criminal liability if enough people think that he is guilty?

Or perhaps not: one suspects he would want to rely on real-world law and procedure, where things are properly written down and recorded.

For that is the thing about those who want to be above the law: they wish to dispense with legal formalities when it suits them, but they certainly want the protection of legal formalities when it protects them.

 

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The dropping of “The Bill of Rights” – and why it is both good and bad news

7th September 2022

The Human Rights Act 1998 is still in place.

And Dominic Raab is not.

Raab was three times a minister at the Ministry of Justice, and his personal and political priority was the repeal of the Act.

The legislation was the Moby Dick to his Captain Ahab.

But the whale has swum away again.

*

Raab’s latest attempt to repeal the Act was the so-called “Bill of Rights”.

When this was published my reaction was that it was a dud and a misdirection.

In essence, the rights under the European Convention on Human Rights would still be enforceable in domestic law, but there would be lots of provisions to make such enforcement more difficult in practical situations.

The United Kingdom cannot leave the ECHR without breaching the Good Friday Agreement – and so the “Bill of Rights” was a cynical attempt to make it look like something fundamental was happening when it was not.

Given the MoJ is facing chaos and crises in the prison and criminal justice systems, it seemed an odd priority for scarce ministerial and civil servant resources, as well as a waste of parliamentary time.

And this was especially the case when repealing the Act was not even in the 2019 Conservative manifesto, and so such a move was likely to be blocked or delayed by the House of Lords.

It was difficult to conceive of a greater exercise in pointlessness.

But, for Raab, the Act had to be repealed.

*

“All that most maddens and torments; all that stirs up the lees of things; all truth with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the subtle demonisms of life and thought; all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified, and made practically assailable in Moby Dick.”

*

And now today, on the first full day of the new Prime Minister’s time in office, we read that the “Bill of Rights” is no more:

This revelation has the ring of truth.

The “Bill of Rights” is dead.

And so…

…Hurrah.

*

But.

The cheers cannot last for too long.

For this further news is also important:

The quoted statement may look like verbiage – but it signals something important.

The “Bill of Rights” was always going to be a clumsy vehicle for all the illiberal provisions the government would like to have so as to make it more practically difficult to enforce convention rights.

And so instead of putting many of these illiberal provisions in one big bill that was likely to fail, the same illiberal ends will now be achieved in other ways.

These moves will be driven mainly by the Home Office, and not the MoJ.

This is a canny move by the government – even if it is an unwelcome one from a liberal perspective.

The claps and congratulations about the “Bill of Rights” being dropped should therefore not last too long.

The government is just going to seek the limit the benefits and protections of the Act in other, less blatant ways.

Dominic Raab and his “Bill of Rights” may have gone.

But the need to be vigilant about what the government wants to do with our Convention rights has not gone at all.

***

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Lawyers as brands, and “legal opinions” as franchised products – on the nature of legal opinions

5th September 2022

Friday’s blogpost on that “devastating” legal opinion has been very popular – with over 30,000 views.

But there were some things missing.

And one omission in particular was deliberate.

The post did not mention either of the authors of the opinion.

This is because, for the purposes of the blogpost, it did not matter who the authors were of the opinion.

The authors could have been two unknown newly qualified barristers at some obscure chambers.

Or the authors could have been the ghosts of Thomas More and Edward Coke.

It did not matter.

And this is one of the great things about law – for it is the content of a given legal document that usually matters, and not the identity of the lawyer.

In this way, a pupil barrister or trainee solicitor can sometimes trump a QC or a partner, just as a cat can look at a king.

(And this is one reason why it is so important that all lawyers should have access to a fully resourced law library, rather than such facilities being only for top chambers and big law firms.)

*

The omission was also deliberate in that so many other pundits were placing huge reliance on the reputation of one of the opinion’s authors, David Pannick.

(Pannick, for example, acted in the two Miller cases against the government and he is regarded as the leading barrister in England on constitutional and public law matters.)

It was almost as if he had been instructed just so it could be said: “look, this is what even Pannick says”.

As such, it was almost as if he was being used as a brand, rather than as an advisor.

A similar thing recently happened, you may recall, with the attempted use of the Treasury Devil, James Eadie, to say that the Northern Irish Protocol Bill was lawful under international law – see my posts from June here and here.

As I then described: what appears to have happened was that the government got its convenient advice from the current Attorney General; somebody insisted that this still had to be referred to First Treasury Counsel – the Treasury Devil; a clever compromise was reached where it would be referred to him on the basis of certain assumptions, so as not to undermine the convenient legal advice; and the Devil, while accepting those assumptions, provided an unhelpful view on the merits of those assumptions.

*

In both cases, there seems to be a cynical exercise to get a convenient-seeming opinion from [Pannick/Eadie] so that it could be said that this distinguished lawyer had supported it.

Here, the barrister involved is not to blame.

Seriously.

The so-called “cab rank” rule means, among other things, that a barrister cannot refuse an instruction just because of the identity of the person instructing them.

Once the Prime Minister and his chosen criminal defence firm instructed the authors of last week’s opinion, those authors had little choice but to accept the instruction.

And Pannick – himself a parliamentarian – has a record in dealing with matters concerning parliamentary procedure, such as his support for Anthony Lester.

Who knows what the authors of the opinion thought about their work being used in the way that it was?

*

If a legal position is being urged by politicians or pundits just on the reputation of the lawyer who has (supposedly) endorsed it – be it Pannick or the Treasury Devil or anyone else – then it is suspect.

For if the legal point is sound, the reputation of the lawyer is irrelevant.

And if the legal point is unsound, the reputation of the lawyer will not save it.

This is especially the case when – with both the Pannick and Eadie advices – we do not have the crucial, prior “instructions to counsel”.

As techies would say, without sight of the instructions, such opinions can be instances of “garbage in, garbage out”.

*

As it happens, the thrust of my post on Friday is also the view of the former Conservative justice minister David Wolfson:

(And Wolfson is about as un-woke a lawyer as I am a woke legal commentator.)

And it also the view of the professor of public law at the University of Cambridge:

*

Such concurrence is always a reassurance.

But.

Even if the cards had fallen differently, and I was saying something in support of (say) Pannick and against (say) Wolfson and Elliott, it would not ultimately matter.

Because it is the content of a legal opinion that matters the most.

Just as if a “distinguished” computer programmer churns out code that does not add up, it is the same for lawyers and legal opinions.

Being distinguished – or experienced or well-regarded – is a factor, as such lawyers and commentators may be accorded more respect.

But respect is not necessarily deference, and it is certainly not subjugation.

And a wise lawyer or commentator knows this, and will take ready account of better and stronger views.

*

Without knowing the instructions and other privileged material, little weight can be placed on any formal legal opinion; and even if there is full disclosure of such things, any opinion has little weight in a court or tribunal.

For such opinions are not pleadings or statements of case to be presented to a court, and nor are they statements of evidence or summaries of the arguments before a court.

They are documents addressed solely to the client, on the client’s terms, and can be disclosed to third parties only if it suits the client.

And, as an opinion, it is always open to those to whom it is disclosed to take their own view.

*

So, in conclusion: this harsh (now deleted) put-down on Twitter is correct:

(Though the “highly arguably” is adverbly painful to read.)

But.

There is nothing wrong with being a blogger.

For even bloggers can look at kings.

***

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***

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The not-at-all-devastating “devastating” Johnson opinion on contempt of parliament

2nd September 2022

The “opinion”, we were told, would be “devastating”.

To quote the Daily Mail:

“An insider said of the QC’s legal advice: ‘It is absolutely devastating.'”

Not just devastating – but devastating absolutely.

Gosh.

Huge, if true.

*

*

The opinion has now been published on the government’s website.

The government website calls it a “legal opinion”:And the document itself is formatted and signed as an opinion, and it even records the instructing solicitor, who happens to be a criminal defence specialist.

But the opinion does not set out any views on the criminal law, and nor is it in respect of criminal proceedings, and the authors of the opinion are not criminal lawyers.

Indeed, the opinion does not set out any views on a matter before any court or tribunal, or in respect of any criminal or civil liability.

One could even perhaps doubt – but for (ahem) what the government website says – whether this document constitutes a legal opinion at all.

That it has been placed happily into the public domain would make one wonder if any legal privilege would attach itself to this document.

But.

The question for this post is not whether it is a legal opinion or not, but is it devastating?

*

An opinion – which is the name for a document setting out the views of a lawyer on a particular legal matter – is a curious form of legal document.

It is not a pleading or statement of case, which would set out a client’s legal position before a court or tribunal.

Nor is it a statement containing evidence that would set out the facts which a party wishes to put before a court or tribunal.

And nor is it a skeleton argument, which provides a summary of the legal arguments on which a party wishes to rely.

All three of these documents – pleading or statement of case, statement of evidence, skeleton arguments – are court- or tribunal-facing.

They are to assist the court or tribunal in determining the questions before it.

And an opinion is not itself a letter before action, which a party will send to another party so as to set out its case before a claim is issued.

No.

An opinion (or an “advice” depending on the matter) is usually a thing between a client and their lawyer.

The lawyer tells the client their view of the law – and it is to the client that the lawyer has the duty.

Sometimes, such opinions are shared or published by the client – so as to inform or influence third parties.

For example, before he went on to other things, the tax barrister Jolyon Maugham wrote an informative post on how certain tax barristers were well-known for giving convenient advices to be shared:

(Maugham and I are not close, and I am not an uncritical fan of the Good Law Project, but that was – and is – a remarkable piece of legal blogging.)

The point is that such “opinions” are that – they are the views of a lawyer who has an obligation only to their client, even if the client choses to share that document with third parties.

*

As such, an opinion is rarely “devastating” – at least, not to any one else other than the client.

It is merely an expression of a view.

No court or tribunal will adopt such an opinion uncritically as its own view – and, indeed, lawyers are required to set their cases in different documents, mentioned above.

There is a fashion for campaigners and pressure groups to commission opinions from lawyers to use as aids for their goals.

And many lawyers are happy to provide such opinions, knowing they are going to be used for such non-judicial purposes.

But such opinions have, by themselves, almost no weight as a legal document.

They are PR, not probative.

*

And now we come to this, capital-O Opinion.

This Opinion is, in effect, a PR exercise.

If this Opinion was, in fact, devastating then – in my view – it could have been quietly disclosed to the House of Commons committee of privileges in respect of its inquiry.

The inquiry would then have been devastated.

The content of the Opinion would have been so formidable that the committee would have known the game was up, and they would have terminated the inquiry with immediate effect.

That is what the effect of a “devastating” opinion would have been: devastation.

But this Opinion was not quietly disclosed to the committee.

It was instead placed into the public domain.

On a Friday afternoon.

After it was leaked to a newspaper.

(And although those reading this blog may not be readers of the Daily Mail, the newspaper was right to give this Opinion prominence and to quote the insider – for the Opinion and what the insider said are newsworthy.)

*

The publication of this Opinion is an example of litigation by other means.

It is an appeal for media and public support.

It is an attempt to place pressure on the committee to drop the inquiry.

For if the Opinion were truly devastating there would be no need for publicising it on the government website or for leaking it to the press.

That is the difference between something being devastating and something being described as “devastating”.

*

The Opinion is not strong.

Indeed, it relies entirely on the “but for” device, which can be one of the deftest rhetorical tactics for any advocate.

The colour of a thing would be black, but for it being white.

The object would be cheese, but for it being chalk.

And here:

“But for Parliamentary privilege, a court hearing a judicial review application brought by Mr Johnson would declare the Committee’s Report to be unlawful.”

*

There are a few points to make about this Opinion.

To begin with, the inquiry into whether Boris Johnson misled the House of Commons is a matter for Parliament and not the courts.

And Parliament is in charge of its own procedures which, as a matter of basic constitutional principle (and the Bill of Rights), cannot be gainsaid by the courts.

So to say “but for” this being a parliamentary matter it would have this judicial consequence is to disregard perhaps the most fundamental part of our constitutional arrangements.

But.

It gets worse.

*

The Opinion does not even deal with the alleged wrong of Johnson not promptly correcting the record when he realised Parliament had been misled than him misleading parliament in the first place.

This has been spotted by the Labour MP Chris Bryant:

The motion referring Johnson to the privileges committees was as follows:

The question for the committee is whether the misleading of the House of Common amounted to a contempt.

If Johnson did in good faith give an incorrect statement then at some point he would have realised the error.

That would not be a contempt.

But.

Under the rules of Parliament (and the Ministerial Code) Johnson was also under a duty to correct the record as soon as he realised, at the “earliest opportunity” and he has chosen not to do so.

Here is Erskine May, the authority on parliamentary procedure (highlighting added):

On this, see this thread by Alexander Horne from back in April:

And my post on the same:

There is no good reason why this “earliest opportunity” point is not fully addressed by the Opinion.

The Opinion mentions the relevant duty in paragraph 26 (and the corresponding Ministerial Code duty in paragraph 28) but uses it only to somehow say that it indicates only deliberate lying can be contempt.

But if this a point set out in Erskine May, and obvious to Horne (and me) in April 2022, then it is a point that should have been addressed in an Opinion dated 1 September 2022.

As it is, the Opinion offers no defence whatsoever to the “earliest opportunity” charge.

*

The Opinion is also odd in how it seeks to judicial-ise parliament.

This has already been spotted by the estimable Hannah White:

This contempt inquiry is a parliamentary (and political) exercise into assessing whether Johnson was dishonest.

This process is required because of the notion (or fiction) that MPs do not lie to the House.

This is because it is assumed MPs are honourable – and it is out of order for one MP to accuse another of lying in the Commons.

Ministers, for example, do not sign “statements of truth” when giving their answers at the dispatch box.

(And you will remember that Johnson lost the prorogation case at the Supreme Court because he refused to sign a statement of truth, under pain of perjury, as to his true reasons for the prorogation.)

As such the privileges committee inquiry is part of what some commentators call the “political constitution”.

It is how certain issues and disputes are dealt with within parliament, rather than outside of parliament by courts or other agencies.

The Opinion, by seeking to judicial-ise part of the process is taking a misconceived pick-and-mix approach.

The committee has set out its process and has called for evidence:

A motion was passed by the Commons; a process was adopted in accordance with the relevant rules agreed by Parliament; documents have been sought and evidence has been called for.

This is entirely appropriate for the parliamentary issue which needs to be addressed and resolved.

If the committee were to be amenable to judicial review, then the entire process would cease to be an entirely parliamentary matter.

The whole process would have to be recast, with judicial protections built in at each stage.

And, in any case, there is no good reason – and certainly no reason set out in the Opinion – why Johnson cannot simply explain why he gave a misleading statement and did not correct it at the earliest opportunity.

He can answer, parliamentarian to parliamentarians.

The motion of the House gives precise particulars of the statements, and he was the one that made the statements.

The sanction, if he is found in contempt, is not civil or criminal liability – no criminal record or county court judgment – but a sanction to him as a parliamentarian – he could be suspended, or perhaps face a recall petition.

This is a parliamentary process to deal with a parliamentary question with a possible parliamentary sanction.

To assert that “[b]ut for Parliamentary privilege, a court hearing a judicial review brought by Mr Johnson would in our view declare the approach taken by the Committee to be unlawful” is therefore not just deft, it is also daft.

*

As a further observation: why has this matter not seemingly gone through the government legal system and treasury counsel?

It appears a top white-collar criminal firm and the barristers have been instructed directly by the Prime Minister, presumably with public money.

For all Johnson’s derision about “lefty lawyers” and his supporters’ attacks on legal aid “fat cats”, Johnson is very ready to use taxpayer money to find technicalities so as to frustrate processes.

Those caught in the criminal justice system do not have access to this sort of legal advice.

*

To conclude: the Opinion is not only not strong, it is a disappointment.

One would hope and expect that its esteemed authors would have provided a more compelling critique of the process; that they would have engaged with the “earliest opportunity” charge; and that they would have explained, in parliamentary terms why it was unfair, rather than relying entirely on a “but for” rhetorical device and a false analogue.

This could have been a far more interesting opinion.

But instead, we got this weak, misconceived, incoherent document.

Frankly, it is devastating.

 

**

POSTSCRIPT

 

***

Thank you for reading – and now please help this blog continue providing free-to-read and independent commentary on constitutional matters and other law and policy topics.

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***

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