Category: Texts and Textual Analyses

A government department or minister has been found to have acted unlawfully or illegally – but what does this mean? And what does it not mean?

21st February 2021

The news item is dramatic.

The high court in London has decided that a government department – or a specific secretary of state – has acted illegally or unlawfully.

The department or minister has, as the saying goes, broken the law!

There will then be a flurry of tweets, retweets and likes – and then demands for resignations, or prosecutions, or whatnot – followed by complaints that the news media (usually the BBC) have not adopted a similarly breathless approach.

And then there will be a sense of anti-climax or disappointment as the news fades and nothing significant seems to happen.

Nobody resigns, nobody is sacked, nobody is prosecuted, nobody has any personal legal liability.

Why is this?

Surely breaking the law has consequences?

*

Well.

Part of the problem is that the words ‘illegal’ and ‘unlawful’ are wide in their meaning.

(For convenience, the terms ‘illegal’ and ‘unlawful’ will be used as synonyms n this post – though some lawyers will have very strong opinions as their distinction in certain contexts.)

Their core meaning of being ‘illegal’ and ‘unlawful’, of course, is that there has not been compliance with a law – or that a thing has been done without a lawful basis.

That core meaning, by itself, does not tell you what laws have been broken, how they were broken, and what the consequences (if any) are for that breach.

And in the case of there not being a lawful basis for a thing, it may even mean no specific law has been broken as such.

There are many ways in which a thing may be ‘illegal’ or ‘unlawful’.

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Yet for many the phrase ‘broken the law’ will mean a person has done something criminally wrong.

That such a person has breached a prohibition for which the criminal law provides a sanction for that breach.

But that is only one way the law can be breached.

This is because criminal law is only a sub-set of the law.

And so the illegality that gives rise to criminal liability is just a sub-set of illegality.

There are other ways a thing can be ‘illegal’ or ‘unlawful’ without any criminal offence being committed.

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Another way a thing can be ‘illegal’ or ‘unlawful’ is when a person does not comply with the conditions of a contract, or with the terms of a licence, or commits a wrong such as trespass or negligence.

Such an action or inaction will be to ‘break the law‘ – but these will not usually result in any criminal sanction.

Such wrongs are usually enforced, if at all, by a wronged party suing in a court.

This is what the law regards as ‘civil’ law as opposed to ‘criminal’ law.

Some people can commit dozens – if not hundreds – of such breaches – and nothing happens, because nobody is able or willing to sue for the wrong.

People act unlawfully and illegally every day.

People just like you.

*

Another way a thing can be ‘illegal’ or ‘unlawful’ is when a public body does not comply with the provisions of the law or its relevant legal duties.

Here the relevant law is called ‘public law’ – a general term for the special laws that regulate what public bodies can and cannot do.

As a general rule, a public body can only do what the law provides for that body to do, and when doing so that body also has to comply with certain duties.

And if that public body does not do so, then it will be acting ‘illegally’ or ‘unlawfully’.

This means the public body, as a matter of law, has not done what it should have done.

The common way for such bodies to be held legally to account for the lawfulness of what they do is called ‘judicial review’ – though the question of legality can also sometimes be raised other legal proceedings.

Judicial review is, in England and Wales, usually before the high court.

When the question of legality is raised, the high court will ascertain the relevant laws and legal duties of the public body, and the court will then determine whether the public body has acted in accordance with those laws and duties or not.

If not, the court can decide whether the public body (or minister in charge of a government department in their official capacity) has acted illegally/unlawfully.

And that…

…is it.

At least that is it, in respect of the substance of the case.

If necessary, the court can then make a ‘quashing order’ that will render the act – a decision, or measure, or policy – as unlawful.

The quashing order will then, by legal magic, remove any legal meaning from what was done (or not done).

In practice, this usually means the public body (or minister) can make the quashed decision (or measure or policy) again, but this time lawfully.

A court may sometimes think a quashing order is not necessary, and may make what is called a ‘declaration’ instead – where the high court declares what the relevant legal position is (or is not).

And sometimes a court can even view that neither a quashing order nor a declaration as having any practical use, and regard the breach as moot or academic.

So a finding by the high court of illegality by a public body may mean there is a remedy, on not, depending on the circumstances.

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The role of the court in judicial review is to, literally, review a thing judicially – to see if a thing done or not done by a public body was lawful or not. 

And if so, to see if anything practically needs to be done as a consequence.

Nothing more.

No automatic orders to pay damages, still less impositions of criminal convictions.

And sometimes not even a quashing order or other order, or a declaration, as not even that remedy is required to put right the wrong.

This is because the job of public law is not to deal with civil or criminal wrongs directly but to ensure lawful actions by those with public power – and to issue what corrective orders are necessary to ensure that public bodies keep within their powers and fulfil their duties.

Telling the swimmers to stay in their lanes, and blowing a whistle if required.

*

There is a public interest in this discrete question of legality of public bodies being examined by courts.

Of course, there will always be a clamour for greater sanctions for those individually responsible for such unlawful conduct.

And both the civil law and criminal law do provide the means for civil claims and criminal prosecutions to also be brought in certain circumstances.

Judicial review is not the only legal redress.

Such claims and prosecutions can, however, be complex and time-consuming, involving extensive witness and other evidence, and the need for witness evidence to be examined and cross-examined.

It is harder to impose individual culpability than to review generally whether a public body has acted lawfully or not – especially if intention has to be proved or causation of damage to be shown.

This is not to say there should be no role for civil and criminal liability when things go wrong in the public sphere – but to aver instead that the allocations and inflictions of such liabilities on individuals raise wider legal issues than the narrow question of whether a public body acted within or without its legal powers and duties.

*

So when the news is that the high court has found that a public body (including a secretary of state) has acted unlawfully or illegally then this means the court has reviewed what has happened and found it legally wanting.

A ‘cross’ rather than a ‘tick’ against the public body’s action or inaction.

The swimmer is in the wrong lane.

And, if required, an order or declaration so as to correct what has gone wrong.

That this does not carry any personal legal consequences for the ministers or officials involved will disappoint some of those following the news.

But to insist that there also has to be personal legal consequences for the ministers or officials whenever there are unlawful or illegal actions by a public body would be to make judicial review ineffective as a useful tool.

And there would be no public interest in that.

*****

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An introduction to Article 16 of the Northern Irish Protocol

16th February 2021

Article 16 of the Protocol on Ireland/Northern Ireland seems to be fated to become one of those legal provisions known by their number alone, like Article 50 or Section 28.

The provision has already been the feature of a political controversy, when the European Commission made the horrible mistake of invoking Article 16 in respect of proposed regulations about the coronavirus regulations – a proposal that was promptly, and correctly, withdrawn.

The prime minister of the United Kingdom Boris Johnson has also been reported as saying that he would be minded to trigger Article 16 in certain circumstances.

In these circumstances, a working knowledge of what Article 16 says, and does not say, may be useful for those who follow public affairs.

This post provides a basic introduction to the provision, and it complements a video that I recently narrated for the Financial Times.

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As a preliminary point, just as one does not simply walk into Mordor, one should never go straight to a clause or other provision within a wider legal instrument without an understanding of the purpose of that wider legal instrument.

By analogy: one can perhaps make sense of a line of computer code, but one also needs to understand how that line of code fits in the wider program to elicit its full meaning.

Similarly, an undue focus on the wording and contents of a single provision in any legal instrument can be misleading.

Every article, clause, section – or whatever word used for a discrete portion of legal text – has a context.

And so with Article 16 we have to understand something about the purpose of the Protocol on Ireland/Northern Ireland.

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The protocol, in turn, does not exist in isolation.

The protocol is attached to the Brexit withdrawal agreement – one of the two vast and complex international agreements between the European Union and the United Kingdom that provide the legal framework for Brexit.

The recitals to the withdrawal agreement – which (literally) recite the background and shared understandings of the parties to that agreement – describe the purpose of the the protocol:

Not just specific, but ‘very specific’.

You will also note the word ‘durable’ – and this indicates that it was the shared understanding of the European Union and the United Kingdom that the protocol would not be a temporary arrangements.

Article 125 of the withdrawal agreement then provides for how and when the protocol takes effect:

You will see Article 16 is not included in the provisions that had immediate effect on the departure of the United Kingdom from the European Union – and so Article 16 has only had legal force since 1 January 2021.

The other main mention of the protocol in the main withdrawal agreement is that there shall be a specialised committee dealing with the protocol as part of the ‘Joint Committee’ that oversees the agreement:

*

Now we can turn to the protocol itself.

Confusingly – and welcome to European Union legal instruments! – the protocol itself has its own recitals and articles.

And the protocol has a lot of recitals – twenty-three recitals (as opposed to nineteen operative articles).

Each one of these recitals sets out expressly a shared understanding of the European Union and the United Kingdom.

In particular, the government of the United Kingdom has put its name to each one of the recitals as a statement of its own understanding.

The recitals are not agreements in themselves, and they are not legally enforceable by themselves, but they do set out the common understandings of the European Union and the United Kingdom that are relevant to the articles that follow.

And these recitals, in particular, are significant:

And:

Note the word ‘guarantee’.

And:

And:

A common response from those unhappy with the protocol is to insist something about what the Good Friday Agreement does and does not provide in respect of a ‘hard’ border.

These recitals, however, do explicitly set in firm and emphatic language the shared understandings of the European Union (including Ireland) and the United Kingdom in respect of there not being a hard border.

And this is in the very ‘oven-ready’ withdrawal agreement for which Johnson and the Conservative Party won a mandate at the December 2019 general election and that was then endorsed by the Westminster parliament.

*

Now the articles – the substantive operative provisions that are entitled to have legal effect as between the parties.

You will see that the articles provide for substantive obligations in respect of the free movement of persons and goods (and Article 5 in turn incorporates an annex listing hundreds of European Union regulations and directives).

There are also provisions for State aid and VAT.

The protocol is, in effect, the legal mechanics for Northern Ireland remaining, in effect, part of the European Union single market and customs arrangements whilst still being part of the United Kingdom single market.

It is a complex and – regardless of one’s political views – remarkable piece of legal drafting, especially given the rush of the exit negotiations.

But as with any legal instrument – especially ones devised at speed and in respect of sensitive issues – there will be problems and disputes and unintended effects.

And this brings us to Article 16.

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Article 16 comprises just three paragraphs:

The article is entitled ‘Safeguards’ – and not, for example, ‘Sanctions’ or ‘Retaliatory measures’.

The first paragraph then provides the triggers for the safeguards.

There are two triggers.

First: ‘if the application of this Protocol leads to serious economic, societal or environmental difficulties that are liable to persist’.

Here note the requirements that the difficulties need to be ‘serious’ and ‘liable to persist’ – that it, not trivial or temporary.

Second: ‘if the application of this Protocol leads to…diversion of trade’.

Again, ‘diversion’ indicates something significant and lasting.

*

If either of these triggers are met then either the European Union or the United Kingdom ‘may unilaterally take appropriate safeguard measures’.

Note the requirement that the measures be ‘appropriate’ – and also (deftly) the measures have to be ‘safeguard’ measures, and not any old measures.

Paragraph 1 of the article then also adds further requirements in respect of the scope and duration of the safeguard measures, and subjects the measures to a test of strict necessity.

And – and! – priority should be given to ‘such measures as will least disturb the functioning’ of the protocol.

Paragraph 2 of the article then provides for similar tests for any ‘balancing’ measures of the other party.

These are all onerous substantive tests – and each one must be met for a safeguard measure to be adopted.

And these are just the substantive tests – for Annex 7 to the protocol also provides for the procedure that also has to be followed.

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Annex 7 contains six ‘points’:

You will see point 1 provides a duty of notification at the stage the safeguard measure is being considered.

Point 2 then provides that the next stage is consultations.

Point 3 then imposes a general one month delay, unless the consultations have ended quickly or there are ‘exceptional circumstances’ and the measures are ‘strictly necessary’.

Point 5 then provides that, in addition to the requirement that the safeguard measures not endure longer than necessary, there is a three month review period.

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All of these substantive and procedural provisions are consistent with the measures being of the nature as described on the tin: ‘safeguard measures’.

The measures are to be protective – and what is to be protected is the operation of the protocol and the shared understandings on which the protocol rests.

This means any attempt to use the safeguard measures to, say, alter the operation of the protocol, or to disturb the shared understandings on which the protocol rests, is outside the purpose of the safeguard measures.

In simple terms: that is not what the safeguard measures are safeguarding.

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Of course, politicians being politicians, there will be a temptation to use the Article 16 safeguard measures for other purposes – as leverage in trade discussions, or as retaliatory weapons, or as an attempt to re-write or even discard the protocol.

But even if the intention is to misuse the safeguard measures, the measures are – at least in theory – subject always to the substantive requirements of Article 16 and the procedural requirements of Annex 7.

Of course: all legal instruments are only ever as powerful as the human will to enforce their terms.

For Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? – the eternal question of who watches the watchmen – applies here, as elsewhere.

What – or who – shall safeguard the safeguards?

*****

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What is Article 16 of the Northern Irish Protocol – and what on Earth was the European Commission thinking? (Includes a copy of the now deleted proposed regulation.)

30th January 20211

After four years or so of chronicling the various self-inflicted unforced errors of the United Kingdom, and the better decisions at each stage of Brexit by the European Union, it is kind of refreshing to see the European Commission commit a pratfall.

Of course, this is a grave situation, and we should be terribly earnest, but still: it is salutary to be reminded that no entity is perfect.

That said, some partisans – this time for the European Union – will maintain that there was no error and that the European Commission was entitled yesterday to invoke article 16 of the Irish protocol.

Unfortunately for such partisans, the European Commission did a quick reverse-ermine last night to un-invoke article 16.

This was quite the spectacle for onlookers at the end of what was, on any view, not a good week for the European Commission.

But what is article 16?

And what on Earth was the European Commission thinking?

And how can the European Commission explain (away) recital 17 of the (now deleted) proposed regulation in question?

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One of the blessings of Brexit is dealing with ‘articles’ of international legal instruments – most famously article 50 of the treaty on European Union.

The word ‘article’ is somehow grander than the more mundane ‘section’ and the plebeian ‘clause’.

And indeed articles tend to more self-contained as legal provisions – sometimes like micro legal instruments within macro legal instruments.

Article 16 is within the Irish protocol, which in turn is a protocol to the withdrawal agreement.

Instruments within instruments within instruments.

The article provides in its entirety:

The article is entitled ‘Safeguards’ – but straight away you will see that the provision is itself subject to its own safeguards.

In paragraph 1, the trigger for the safeguards has to be a serious situation that is likely to persist.

And – it then provides that any safeguards will be ‘restricted’ to what is ‘strictly necessary’ for the purpose of remedying that particular serious situation.

And – ‘priority’ shall be given to what measures that cause the least disturbance.

And – in paragraph 2, any imbalances caused by the uses of the safeguards can be addressed.

And – in paragraph 3, there is a further process to be followed, as set out in an annex.

Annex 7 then in turn supplements the substantive limits to the use of Article 16 safeguards with procedural protections:

Even in the event of ‘exceptional circumstances’ under point 3 of this annex, there is still a procedure to be followed.

Safeguards within safeguards within safeguards, and so on.

In summary: invoking article 16 is not to be done casually or by mere oversight.

It is not a red button that can be pressed by accident.

There are substantive and procedural conditions to be fulfilled before it can be invoked.

And the European Commission will know this – for two reasons.

First, article 16 is a provision which the European Union recently agreed.

And second, the European Union is a creature of law itself and is thereby bound by the letter of the law in what it can and cannot do.

The essence of the European Union is process, or it is nothing.

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Given the careful substantive and procedural protections of article 16 it came as a bit of a surprise when reports emerged yesterday that the European Commission was invoking the provision – and was doing so in a highly charged political situation.

As the Guardian reported:

Even the archbishop of Canterbury.

Imagine that.

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Although the invocation of article 16 was widely reported by major news sites – and was not denied by the commission – there appears to have been no formal announcement by the commission.

Indeed, there appears to be no ‘on the record’ confirmation that it was invoked.

But.

What happened is that a proposed European Union regulation appears to have been published.

The regulation (in draft form) appears to be at the internet archive.

And, while I was writing this post, a reliable source has provided me with this ‘final’ copy that was deftly downloaded before the European Commission deleted the regulation.

tradoc_159398 (1)

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Recital 16 – a formal recital! – of this regulation has the European Commission asserting that the quantitive restriction on exports was ‘justified’ under article 16, and that the justification was because it was ‘in order to avert serious societal difficulties due to a lack of supply threatening to disturb the orderly implementation of the vaccination campaigns in the Member States’.

This is significant, as the recital indicates that the justification exercise has already been conducted – that the recital describes a thing that has already taken place.

But asserting the safeguard is justified is not the same as showing that the substantive requirements of article 16 have been met: was it ‘restricted’ to what is ‘strictly necessary’ for the purpose of remedying that particular situation, and was ‘priority’ given to what measures that cause the least disturbance?

Was the measure even within the scope of the Irish protocol in the first place?

And was the annex 7 procedure followed – or even considered?

What we do know, however, is that formal recitals to legal instruments do not come about by accident – even when those regulations are in draft form, let alone ‘final’ form.

Somebody somewhere in the European Commission had to have made a decision for that recital to be part of the regulation.

And that can be most plausibly explained by someone at the European Commission having decided to invoke article 16.

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The invocation did not last long.

The European Commission issued a late-night press release stating that it was not triggering article 16:

The key sentence is unqualified (and is curiously in the present tense): ‘The Commission is not triggering the safeguard clause.’

*

The known facts point to article 16 having been triggered – that is the most plausible explantation for recital 16 to the proposed regulation – but also point to the commission not having followed annex 7.

In the immediate political context of concerns about ‘vaccine nationalism’ and in the broader context of the border in Ireland after Brexit, it was an unwise move by the European commission.

(Though, as averred at the head of this post, it was also good to see that the European Union can blunder as horribly as the United Kingdom.)

Perhaps the European Commission now hopes that this mistake will fade and disappear.

Perhaps both sides will now take more care before even considering article 16 safeguards.

Or perhaps all this is, in effect, a dress rehearsal for the political crisis when either side does go through with invoking article 16.

Brace, brace.

*****

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What can be worked out about the ‘best efforts’ clause in the AstraZeneca vaccine supply agreement?

28th January 2021

Over at the Financial Times I have done a brief summary post on the ‘best efforts’ clause that features in the current public row between the European Commission and AstraZeneca – please click and read here.

This post sets out the ‘workings out’ for that summary, based on the information available to me this morning.

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First, what is the public row?

The inkling of the row was on (Friday) 22nd January 2021: EU hit by delay to Oxford/AstraZeneca vaccine delivery.

The European Commissioner responsible in respect of the vaccine tweeted:

Here, note two things.

First, the information comes from AstraZeneca – in effect, the European Commission is being formally notified of a delay.

Second, the delays are against a ‘forecast’.

As we will see below, both of those things may be significant.

*

We now move to (Monday) 25th January 2021, and to the published remarks of the commissioner.

In particular, this passage:

‘Last Friday, the company AstraZeneca surprisingly informed the Commission and the European Union Member States that it intends to supply considerably fewer doses in the coming weeks than agreed and announced.

‘This new schedule is not acceptable to the European Union.’

Here note the following.

First, the ‘forecast’ is now a thing which was ‘agreed and announced’.

Second, the information coming from AstraZeneca is described as ‘surprising’.

Third, the reference to a ‘new schedule’.

We will come back to these details.

*

Now the interview with the CEO of AstroZeneca at la Repubblica dated (Tuesday) 26th January 2021 (and I rely on that site’s English translation).

The CEO is quoted as saying in part of his response to a question as to whether there is a feasible basis for a potential legal action against AstraZeneca:

“I can only tell you what’s in their contract. And the contract is very clear. Our commitment is, I am quoting, “our best effort”.’

*

Now back to the European commissioner, on (Wednesday) 27th January 2021 and further published remarks:

‘The view that the company is not obliged to deliver because we signed a ‘best effort’ agreement is neither correct nor is it acceptable.

‘We signed an Advance Purchase Agreement for a product which at the time did not exist, and which still today is not yet authorised. And we signed it precisely to ensure that the company builds the manufacturing capacity to produce the vaccine early, so that they can deliver a certain volume of doses the day that it is authorised.’

Note here the ambiguous sentence about what was signed.

Did the commission not sign an agreement with a ‘best effort clause’?

(Which was my first impression.)

Or did the commission sign a ‘best effort’ agreement but this does not remove the obligation of AstraZeneca to deliver the vaccine?

(Which is also a possible meaning of the statement, but not a meaning that would be immediately obvious to most people.) 

Also note the express reference to this being an ‘Advance Purchase Agreement’.

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The advance purchase agreements are part of the European Commission’s vaccine policy announced last June.

In a detailed paper, both the nature and structure of these agreements are set out:

‘These agreements will be negotiated with individual companies according to their specific needs and with the aim of supporting and securing an adequate supply of vaccines. They will de-risk the necessary investments related to both vaccine development and clinical trials, and the preparation of the at-scale production capacity along the entire vaccine production chain which is required for a rapid deployment of sufficient doses of an eventual vaccine in the EU and globally. The conditions of the contract will reflect the balance between the prospect of the producer providing a safe and effective vaccine quickly and the investment needed to deploy the vaccine on the European market.’

The agreements were therefore (and were intended to be) balanced allocations of risk between the commission and the supplier.

These agreement would thereby not be bog-standard standard-form supply contracts, but agreements alert to and mindful of the particular risks in respect of the manufacture and the supply of the vaccine.

*

The agreement between the commission and Astra Zeneca is not in the public domain.

But what is in the public domain – helpfully – is a redacted version of an advance purchase agreement between the commission and another supplier.

The link to this agreement was (I am told by the commission press office) published on 19th January 2021 and so was published before this row.

This means that the redactions would not be informed by the subsequent row.

The agreement is here.

Of course, this is not the agreement between the commission and AstraZeneca, and it would only be sight of that contract that would mean you could say what was agreed with absolute confidence.

But, that said, a careful reading of this published contract is revealing.

*

Before we look at the contract, an assumption: the advance purchase agreement with AstraZeneca will be substantially similar to the published contract.

The contracts will not be absolutely identical, because there will be negotiated commercial and other terms (which are probably the redacted parts of the published contact).

And I think it is safe to assume that the agreement will not be on AstraZeneca’s own terms, given the importance the commission placed on the advance purchase agreements being a careful balance for all concerned.

Therefore I am assuming that the the advance purchase agreement with AstraZeneca and the published contract will have many identical and similar terms, even if not absolutely the same.

*

If we look at the published contract, and search, you will quickly find that ‘reasonable best efforts’ is a defined term.

(Some commentators, who have also seen the agreement, start and then sadly finish with just this definition – but as you will see, a defined term is only one step in understanding what is going on.)

The definition of the term is detailed, and indeed rather elaborate:

The size and scope of the definition tells us two things.

First, the parties did not want to leave it to the court (which in this case is the Belgian court) to construe what is a ‘reasonable best effort’ – the parties have defined it for themselves.

And second, such a detailed and elaborate definition in respect of a key component of the contract is likely to have been used in all the advance purchase agreements, not just the published one.

The fact it is not redacted in the published contract also indicates it is not a bespoke definition for just that particular contract.

*

But.

Any defined term is only as important as the operative provision in which it is used.

(This is where some other commentators have not taken the further step.)

A defined term does not exist in a vacuum.

‘Reasonable best efforts’ is not a free-floating term, to be produced like a joker in a card game.

It will be used, and its effect limited, in particular provisions.

And a search of the published contract shows that this detailed and elaborate definition is used only once (at least in the not-redacted text).

This is article 1.3 of the published agreement:

Here we will see that ‘reasonable best efforts’ is used for two things:

‘(i) to obtain EU marketing authorisation for the Product and (ii) to establish sufficient manufacturing capacities to enable the manufacturing and supply of the contractually agreed volumes of the Product to the participating Member States in accordance with the estimated delivery schedule set out below in Article I.11 once at least a conditional EU marketing authorisation has been granted.’

This means that ‘reasonable best efforts’ is only relevant for two specific purposes.

If the published contract is similar to the AstraZeneca contract, then it would be the second limb of this provision which would be relevant.

AstraZeneca would have an obligation to use ‘reasonable best efforts’ to ‘establish sufficient manufacturing capacities’ for the manufacture and supply of the vaccines ‘in accordance with the estimated delivery schedule‘.

Note the mention of the schedule, which ties in with the commissioner’s published remarks.

And note also the mention of ‘to establish sufficient manufacturing capacities’ – which would not mean, say, a diversion of what is manufactured once there are capacities.

*

And there is more.

If we now look at what happens with delays to the ‘estimated delivery schedule’ we go down to article 1.12 of the published agreement:

Here – significantly – both parties explicitly agree in article 1.12.1 that there is a risk of delays in production.

And in the event of such a delay there is an obligation under article 1.12.2 on the supplier to notify the commission and to provide a revised schedule.

Going back to what has happened in the last week, and assuming the contract with AstraZeneca is on similar terms to the published contract, we can see this is exactly what happened.

AstraZeneca informed the commission that it could not keep to the estimated delivery schedule on Friday 22nd January 2021 – and this accords with the mentions of ‘forecast’ and ‘schedule’ by the commissioner.

There was then push-back (to say the least) from the commission, and AstraZeneca – as described by the CEO – sought to rely on the estimated delivery schedule being subject to the ‘best efforts’ provision.

And the commission responded by denying that that ‘best efforts’ provision covers the delay – presumably because AstraZeneca has the capacity but is diverting it from the EU.

*

Of course, without the actual contract entered into with AstraZeneca we cannot be certain.

But it is telling how neatly the details provided in the public row fit with the steps of the terms of the published contract.

Unless there is something significant about which we do not know, it is more likely than not that the details provided in the public row mean that the contract with AstraZeneca are materially the same as that in the public contract.

If the reasoning in this post is correct then the following two things can be contended.

First, the remark of the commissioner that ‘[t]he view that the company is not obliged to deliver because we signed a ‘best effort’ agreement is neither correct nor is it acceptable” is capable of giving a misleading impression – for the agreement did have a ‘best efforts’ provision.

And second, the existence of that ‘best efforts’ provision may not be that helpful to AstraZeneca, if the correct construction of the contract is that it does not cover diverted capacity as opposed to lack of capacity – and so citing the ‘best efforts’ provision will not be enough to meet the commission’s complaint.

*

The moral of the story, of course, is that such public supply contracts should be published as a matter of course – and there is no good reason for such contracts not to be published.

The benefit of access to public money should be the burden of transparency.

But that is a far wider issue to which this blog may return.

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Legal words v everyday words – how can the killing of six prisoners between the presidential election and inauguration not be a ‘cruel and unusual’ punishment?

27th January 2021

Over at Prospect my column this month is on the grim topic of capital punishment and how former President Trump revived federal executions in the last seven months of his presidency – for my article click and look here.

In this post today I want to expand on the issue I touch on in the introductory paragraphs of that article: what is a ‘cruel and unusual punishment’?

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The reason this matters, of course, is the eighth amendment to the constitution of the United States, the relevant text of which provides: 

‘nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.’  

So if a punishment is cruel and unusual (and note it is ‘and’ and not ‘or’) then it is not only prohibited but also unconstitutional.

Some would contend (in my view rightly) that any use of the death sentence is, at least in modern times, a ‘cruel and unusual punishment’.

But here another part of the constitution is engaged.

The fifth amendment provides, among other things:

‘nor shall any person…be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law’.

This means that the constitution envisages that a person can be deprived of their life by process of law.

And as United States prosecutors, and supporters of the death penalty often point out, the fifth and the eighth amendments were adopted at the same time (as part of the bill of rights) and thereby should be read together.

Of course, there is a certain irony – cruel perhaps – that the fifth amendment was intended to have a generally liberal effect now has, in respect of capital punishment, an illiberal effect.

So the constitutional position is that capital punishment is permitted (fifth amendment) as long as it is not ‘cruel and unusual’ (eighth amendment).

*

In my Prospect column I argue, by the modern everyday meaning of the words ‘cruel’ and ‘unusual’, that the six executions after Trump was defeated and before the new President Joseph Biden was inaugurated were indeed unusual and cruel.

This argument has three bases.

First, once Trump was defeated it was plain that there would be a new president within weeks who was pledged to end federal executions.

And so if the executions did not take place by 20th January 2021 then the prisoner would not be killed.

They would still be alive today.

Second, federal executions are not usual

Indeed, before Trump there had not been any federal executions for seventeen years and, before then, only three executions since 1966.

Click and have a look at this table.

Of course, executions take place in individual states – though twenty-two states have abolished the death penalty and in a further thirteen states there is either a formal or an informal moratorium.

But at a federal level executions were not, between 1966 and 2020, usual.

And by definition, what is not usual is unusual. 

Third, these final six executions were (especially) cruel.

The prisoner – and those charged with killing the prisoner – knew that there was now a race against time.

This deliberate putting to death of a human being had to be done within days, if it was to be done at all.

The circumstances of the six executions after the election but before inauguration indeed amounted to the application of mental torture as part of the punishment.

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But.

Although words have everyday meanings when those words are in a formal legal instrument, those words also have special legal meanings.

And the words ‘cruel’ and ‘unusual’ have been considered by the United States courts again and again.

Caselaw accumulates like barnacles on a shipwreck, so that little or nothing can now be seen of the original vessel.

The general position now is that whether a punishment is ‘cruel’ goes to the technique used at the point of death (and not the period leading to the execution), and if the punishment is still in use then it cannot be ‘unusual’ (which is fairly circular argument).

(The latest significant case in this grisly caselaw is here.)

What it is plain is that the wording of the constitutional prohibition is not autonomous – that it cannot be used in any given situation, free from the weight of caselaw.

A thing is only ‘cruel’ and/or ‘unusual’ if it accords with what these words mean as a matter of 230 years of caselaw, and not what those words mean in everyday discourse.

And this is both a merit and a flaw of placing rights in formal written instruments, such a a bill of rights.

On one hand, a person can point to the right and say with certainty that they have these fundamental protections; but on the other hand, formality can quickly become rigidity.

There is no easy solution to this problem of how one protects rights with a living, evolving legal instrument.

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None of this is to aver that the executions between the election and the inauguration were unlawful and unconstitutional – the fact that the United States supreme court did not prevent those killings indicates that the punishments were lawful and constitutional.

Nor does this post contend that the constitutional law of the United States can easily be recast so as to render such executions as unlawful and unconstitutional.

The purpose of this post is to illustrate the gap between everyday language and precise legal terminology: that, in these instances, things that are plainly cruel and usual are not ‘cruel and unusual’.

This leads to the wider point about using the law to guarantee rights and freedoms: a general legal instrument quickly attracts caselaw, and that caselaw scopes and often limits the meaning of that instrument.

And so one can end up with the vile spectacle of six human beings being deliberately slaughtered before 20th January 2021 because they would be safe from slaughter if they managed to live beyond that date, and that this horrific episode was, as a matter of law, neither cruel nor unusual.

*****

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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?

*

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’:

*

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.

*

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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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.

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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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Benjamin the Donkey from Animal Farm, and the limits of political commentary

New Year’s Eve, 2020

Tomorrow Animal Farm and other works by George Orwell come out of copyright in the United Kingdom.

To mark this, and to do something different on this blog on New Year’s Eve, this is a tribute to – and critique – of Benjamin the donkey as a political commentator.

(And, just for the rest of today, the many quotations in this post are ‘fair dealing with a work for the purpose of criticism or review’ under the Copyright etc Act 1988.)

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Benjamin has qualities which would (or should) make him a great political commentator.

First – and this is key:

‘Benjamin could read as well as any pig…’

In Animal Farm, the two key textual reveals to the other other animals are because Benjamin can read as well as any pig:

‘”Fools! Fools!” shouted Benjamin, prancing round them and stamping the earth with his small hoofs. “Fools! Do you not see what is written on the side of that van?”‘

And:

‘[Benjamin] read out to her what was written on the wall. There was nothing there now except a single Commandment. It ran:

ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL
BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS’

Benjamin is capable of understanding, and explaining, anything done by those who have sought and obtained political power – it is not for him obscure or forbidden knowledge.

He is not of the political world, but can understand it as well as those who are powerful.

And so he can see and describe what is actually happening:

‘…Benjamin was watching the movements of the men intently. The two with the hammer and the crowbar were drilling a hole near the base of the windmill. Slowly, and with an air almost of amusement, Benjamin nodded his long muzzle.

‘”I thought so,” he said. “Do you not see what they are doing? In another moment they are going to pack blasting powder into that hole.”‘

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Second, Benjamin is impartial in a hyper-partisan world:

‘Old Benjamin, the donkey, seemed quite unchanged since the Rebellion. […] About the Rebellion and its results he would express no opinion. When asked whether he was not happier now that Jones was gone, he would say only “Donkeys live a long time. None of you has ever seen a dead donkey,” and the others had to be content with this cryptic answer.’

And:

‘The animals formed themselves into two factions under the slogan, “Vote for Snowball and the three-day week” and “Vote for Napoleon and the full manger.” Benjamin was the only animal who did not side with either faction. He refused to believe either that food would become more plentiful or that the windmill would save work. Windmill or no windmill, he said, life would go on as it had always gone on–that is, badly.’

And:

‘Only old Benjamin refused to grow enthusiastic about the windmill, though, as usual, he would utter nothing beyond the cryptic remark that donkeys live a long time.’

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Third, Benjamin has a stock of knowledge and historical perspective:

‘Only old Benjamin professed to remember every detail of his long life and to know that things never had been, nor ever could be much better or much worse–hunger, hardship, and disappointment being, so he said, the unalterable law of life.’

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And Benjamin is (for want of a better word) humane and (privately) kind:

‘Nevertheless, without openly admitting it, he was devoted to Boxer; the two of them usually spent their Sundays together in the small paddock beyond the orchard, grazing side by side and never speaking.’

And:

‘…Benjamin urged Boxer to work less hard’.

And:

‘…Benjamin warned [Boxer] to take care of his health’.

And:

‘…Benjamin [laid] down at Boxer’s side, and, without speaking, kept the flies off him with his long tail.’ 

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So: what more could you want in a political commentator?

Benjamin is worldly yet impartial, and he has historical perspective and a stock of knowledge, and he also is (at least privately) kindly.

But Benjamin fails as a commentator.

His impartiality has hardened into quietism, and he leaves everything too late.

Of course, Benjamin does not actively collaborate with those with political power:

‘He did his work in the same slow obstinate way as he had done it in Jones’s time, never shirking and never volunteering for extra work either.’

But he also does nothing when it would have made a difference to stop abuses of power.

For example, the constant re-wordings of the commandments which culminate in the addition of ‘BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS’ is left to others to read who do not have the donkey’s understanding.

And when Boxer is taken to the glue factory, Benjamin’s late realisation is futile.

His private kindness made no difference to this very public and brutal act of power.

Had Benjamin been engaged from the beginning of the rebellion, the pigs may have got away with less and Boxer would have enjoyed a retirement.

(That is, if Benjamin had not – ahem – disappeared.)

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T. S. Eliot famously turned-down Animal Farm for publication, writing to George Orwell that all the farm really needed were ‘more public-spirited pigs’.

That is, better conduct and more self-restraint by those who achieve and exercise political power – the essence of Toryism.

But left to themselves, those who achieve and exercise political power will tend to abuse that power – and that is why wiser people than Eliot also want checks and balances.

And one check and balance is an independent media.

A media which is worldly, impartial, and has historical perspective and a stock of knowledge, and which also – if not kindly – is certainly not cruel.

But as the example of Benjamin shows, even these wonderful qualities are not enough, if not constantly applied.

What was perhaps needed on the farm was not ‘more public-spirited pigs’ but a more public-spirited donkey.

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Yet – this is a question which Orwell does not really address – the animals would also need to have cared if the donkey had told them what was happening in time.

For the experience of Brexit and Trump indicates that even if Benjamin had been more vigilant about abuses of power, many of the animals may not have cared.

‘The animals crowded round the van. “Good-bye, Boxer!” they chorused, “good-bye!”‘

So commentary may not be enough: there is limited point to explaining about lies and abuses of power if people do not care that they are being lied to and power is being abused.

And that is the fundamental challenge of politics in the age of the promised windmills of Trump and Brexit.

But providing commentary is a public good in itself, even if it is not heeded.

And so this blog will carry on into the new year as the work of a public-spirited donkey.

Happy new year to all my readers and followers.

*****

This law and policy blog provides a daily post commenting on and contextualising topical law and policy matters – each post is published at about 9.30am UK time.

Each post takes time, effort, and opportunity cost.

If you value the free-to-read and independent legal and policy commentary both at this blog and at my Twitter account please do support through the Paypal box above.

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Comments are welcome, but they are pre-moderated.

Comments will not be published if irksome.

 

The Bill implementing the Trade and Cooperation Agreement is an exercise in the Government taking power from Parliament

30th December 2020

Today Parliament will be expected to pass, in one single day, the legislation implementing the Trade and Cooperation Agreement into domestic law.

This situation is exceptional and unsatisfactory.

The bill is currently only available in draft form, on the government’s own website.

As you can see, this means that ‘DRAFT’ is inscribed on each page with large unfriendly letters.

And we are having to use this version, as (at the time of writing) the European Union (Future Relationship) Bill is not even available parliament’s  ‘Bills before Parliament’ site.

The draft bill is complex and deals with several specific technical issues, such as criminal records, security, non-food product safety, tax and haulage, as well as general implementation provisions.

Each of these specific technical issues would warrant a bill, taking months to go through the normal parliamentary process.

But instead they will be whizzed and banged through in a single day, with no real scrutiny, as the attention of parliamentarians will (understandably) be focused on the general implementation provisions, which are in Part 3 of the draft bill.

And part 3 needs this attention, as it contains some remarkable provisions.

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Clause 29 of the draft bill provides for a broad deeming provision.

(Note a ‘clause’ becomes a ‘section’ when a ‘Bill’ becomes enacted as an ‘Act’.)

The intended effect of this clause is that all the laws of the United Kingdom are to be read in accordance with, or modified to give effect to, the Trade and Cooperation Agreement.

And not just statutes – the definition of ‘domestic law’ covers all law – private law (for example, contracts and torts) as well as public law (for example, legislation on tax or criminal offences).

It is an ingenious provision – a wave of a legal wand to recast all domestic law in whatever form in accordance with the agreement.

But it also an extremely uncertain provision: its consequences on each and every provision of the laws of England and Wales, of Northern Ireland, of Scotland, and on those provisions that cover the whole of the United Kingdom, cannot be known.

And it takes all those legal consequences out of the hands of parliament.

This clause means that whatever is agreed directly between government ministers and Brussels modifies all domestic law automatically, without any parliamentary involvement. 

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And then we come to clause 31.

This provision will empower ministers (or the devolved authorities, where applicable) to make regulations with the same effect as if those regulations were themselves acts of parliament.

In other words: they can amend laws and repeal (or abolish) laws, with only nominal parliamentary involvement.

There are some exceptions (under clause 31(4)), but even with those exceptions, this is an extraordinarily wide power for the executive to legislate at will.

These clauses are called ‘Henry VIII’ clauses and they are as notorious among lawyers as that king is notorious in history.

Again, this means that parliament (and presumably the devolved assemblies, where applicable) will be bypassed, and what is agreed between Whitehall and Brussels will be imposed without any further parliamentary scrutiny.

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There is more.

Buried in paragraph 14(2) of schedule 5 of the draft bill (the legislative equivalent of being positioned in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying ‘Beware of the Leopard’) is a provision that means that ministers do not even have to go through the motions of putting regulations through parliament first.

Parliament would then get to vote on the provisions afterwards.

This is similar to the regulations which the government has been routinely using during the pandemic where often there has actually been no genuine urgency, but the government has found it convenient to legislate by decree anyway.

Perhaps there is a case that with the 1st January 2021 deadline approaching for the end of the Brexit transition period, this urgent power to legislate by decree is necessary.

But before such a broad statutory power is granted to the government there should be anxious scrutiny of the legislature.

Not rushed through in a single parliamentary day.

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There are many more aspects of this draft bill which need careful examination before passing into law.

And, of course, this draft bill in turn implements a 1400-page agreement – and this is the only real chance that parliament will get to scrutinise that agreement before it takes effect.

You would not know from this draft bill that the supporters of Brexit campaigned on the basis of the United Kingdom parliament ‘taking back control’.

Nothing in this bill shows that the Westminster parliament has ‘taken back control’ from Brussels.

This draft bill instead shows that Whitehall – that is, ministers and their departments – has taken control of imposing on the United Kingdom what it agrees with Brussels.

And presumably that was not what Brexit was supposed to be about.

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This agreement is not the end of Brexit, it is a five year political truce

28th December 2020

More is now becoming apparent of the nature of the draft trade and cooperation agreement between the European Union and the United Kingdom.

This post looks at two fundamental issues: structure and duration.

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In regard of structure, let us start with what is expressly stated as the ‘purpose’ of the agreement:

‘This Agreement establishes the basis for a broad relationship between the Parties […]’

The word ‘broad’ is significant, especially when one looks at the following provision.

This provision expressly provides that it is envisaged that there will be ‘other’ agreements that will both ‘supplement’ this agreement but will be subject to this agreement.

The key word here, at the end of the numbered paragraph, is that this agreement is a ‘framework’.

As such it is not, and is not intended to be, a once-and-for-all agreement, setting out all the terms of the post-Brexit relationship between the European Union and the United Kingdom.

This will not surprise many (no doubt they are already scrolling down to type ‘why is this a surprise?’ in the comment box below) but it is significant – and consequential – and needs spelling out.

This is explicitly not an agreement which shows that the United Kingdom has, in one single bound, ‘taken back control’ and become free.

The agreement instead shows, even in its first two substantive provisions, that Brexit will be an ongoing negotiation, maybe one without end.

All this agreement does – expressly and openly – is provide a ‘broad…framework’.

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Once this is understood then other parts of the agreement make sense.

For example, there are numerous specialised trade committees set up for various sectors.

Loads of talking shops.

But some have rightly noted that some sectors do not have specialised trade committees.

The specialised trade committees which have been set up, however, oversee certain parts of the agreement.

So, if a sector is not the subject of other provisions in the agreement, then there will not be a specialised trade committee to oversee that sector.

(This is akin to, say, parliamentary select committees that are set up to mirror government departments.)

The reason, therefore, there is not a financial services specialised trade committee under this agreement is that there are no substantive provisions under this agreement on financial services (yet) for that committee to monitor.

If and when there is a ‘supplementary’ agreement on financial services, for example, there will be a corresponding new specialised trade committee.

That new committees can be formed is expressly provided for in the powers of the partnership council, that can ‘by decision, establish Trade Specialised Committees and Specialised Committees’.

The agreement, therefore, envisages both new supplementary agreements and new specialised committees.

(And these envisaged potential extensions are elsewhere in this agreement.)

In other words, this agreement is intended and designed to be a dynamic arrangement between the parties, where areas of trade and cooperation can change and indeed become closer (or less close) over time.

This means one consequence of Brexit is that the United Kingdom has swapped the dynamic treaties of the European Union which envisages things becoming closer (or sometimes less close) over time for a new ‘broad…framework’ dynamic agreement that also envisages things becoming closer (or sometimes less close) over time.

And this is part of the design, as the examples above show.

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There is more.

Not only is the agreement envisaged and designed to be dynamic over time, it will also be subject to five-yearly reviews.

So slow, incremental changes within five periods will be complemented by possible far more substantive shifts every five years.

This again is part of the design.

Buried on page 402 of the agreement:

“The Parties shall jointly review the implementation of this Agreement and supplementing agreements and any matters related thereto five years after the entry into force of this Agreement and every five years thereafter.”

And once you realise there is this five year cycle, you notice it elsewhere in the agreement.

There are numerous references to ‘2026’ and ‘five years’.

And as John Lichfield has pointed out in this significant and informative thread, 2026 is also a significant date on the fisheries question:

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Five year periods, of course, accord neatly with the five year cycles of the European Union.

The European Commission is appointed for a five year term, for example, and the European Parliament is elected every five years.

Each President of the European Council also tends to serve a five year term.

So this five year cycle of reviews is convenient for (and is no doubt designed to be convenient for) the European Union.

Each Commission, each European Parliament, and each President of the European Council, will have its turn to shape the relationship with the United Kingdom, before handing it onto the next.

The five year cycle also may suit the United Kingdom.

The Fixed-term Parliaments Act provides that each parliament should last five years – though, of course, this statute is set for repeal.

But, in any case, the politics of the United Kingdom generally tends to follow cycles of four to five years.

And if Fixed-term Parliaments Act stays in place, the next general election is in 2024, just in time for the run-up to the next review of the agreement.

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The trade and cooperation agreement is expressly and openly designed to have both small changes within five year cycles and potentially big changes every five years.

As such, this agreement is not the end of Brexit.

The agreement is not (and is not intended to be) a once-and-for-all settlement of the relationship between the European Union and the United Kingdom.

It is instead – deliberately – a dynamic agreement, capable of enabling closer union (or less close union) over time.

The five year cycles accord exactly with the convenience of the terms of the European Union and also roughly match the political cycle of the United Kingdom.

This agreement does not bring Brexit to an end, it is instead a five year political truce.

*****

This law and policy blog provides a daily post commenting on and contextualising topical law and policy matters – each post is published at about 9.30am UK time.

Each post takes time, effort, and opportunity cost.

If you value the free-to-read and independent legal and policy commentary both at this blog and at my Twitter account please do support through the Paypal box above.

Or become a Patreon subscriber.

You can also subscribe to this blog at the subscription box above (on an internet browser) or on a pulldown list (on mobile).

*****

This blog enjoys a high standard of comments, many of which are better and more interesting than the posts.

Comments are welcome, but they are pre-moderated.

Comments will not be published if irksome.