Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
Public Law
Public Law
Analysis
The ombudsman and paths to justice: a just alternative or just
an alternative?
Ann Abraham
Against a written constitution
N.W. Barber
The consistency of Dicey: a reply to McLean and Macmillan
Vernon Bogdanor Spring 2008
Gordon Browns new constitutional settlement
Andrew Le Sueur
The Privy Council overrules itselfagain!
Derek OBrien Analysis
Spring 2008
Articles
Book Reviews
Enacting a British Constitution: Some Problems
Gavin Drewry, Louis Blom-Cooper and Charles Blake: The Court Vernon Bogdanor and Stefan Vogenauer
of Appeal.
Colin Turpin and Adam Tomkins: British Government and the Public-Private Intersection: Comparing Fiduciary Conflict
Constitution: Text and Materials. Doctrine and Bias
Matthew Conaglen
Joseph M. Jacob: Civil Justice in the Age of Human Rights.
Christopher Hood and David Heald: TransparencyThe Key to Better The Courts and Politics after the Human Rights Act: A Comment
Governance? Proceedings of the British Academy, Volume 135. Tom Hickman
Andrew T. Kenyon and Megan Richardson: New Dimensions in Privacy The Pervasiveness of Polycentricity
LawInternational and Comparative Perspectives. Jeff A. King
1202
Constitutionalism and Legislation in Special Educational Needs
Law: An Anglo-Irish Perspective
Conor OMahony
Current Survey
International Survey
Government and Politics Journals
Book Reviews
*209804*
PL Spring-08:v 10/1/08 13:24 Page 2
ISSN 0033-3565
Please note that all other enquiries should be directed to Sweet &
Maxwell Ltd, 100 Avenue Road, London, NW3 3PF; Tel: 020 7449 1111;
Fax: 020 7449 1144.
http://www.sweetandmaxwell.co.uk
Computerset by Laserwords Private Limited, Chennai, India, and printed and bound in Great Britain
by MPG Books Ltd, Cornwall.
No natural forests were destroyed to make this product; only farmed timber was used and
replanted.
The Thomson trademark and Star design are trademarks of thomson Financial S.A. used herein under
licence.
Analysis 1
Analysis
1 For details of the Austrian Ombudsmans work, see http://www.volksanw.gv.at [accessed November
15, 2007].
2 For official recognition of the need for a more holistic approach to the administrative justice system,
see Department for Constitutional Affairs, Transforming Public Services: Complaints, Redress and Tribunals,
features of that system, of the ombudsman approach, the things that make
it significantly different from the conventional common law way of going
about these things. This is justice, but not necessarily as we know it. In
doing that, I want to suggest, however, that the ombudsman system, although
different, is complementary to the courts and tribunals on the one hand and to
negotiated forms of alternative dispute resolution on the other; different from,
yet receptive to elements of, both.
And I want as well to pose some questions that flow from these observations:
if the ombudsman system is complementary to the rest of the administrative
justice system, to what extent do the other parts (the courts and tribunals, for
example) repay the compliment by recognising it as such; and if this really is
a system of justice, where in the Ministry of Justice is the overview of that
part of the justice system and the ownership of developments in ombudsman
policy to be found?
But lets start with a brief survey of ombudsman practice. Just what sort of
things do ombudsmen get up to? What sort of complaints do they investigate
and what sort of remedies can they offer?
Between them, public sector ombudsmen handle complaints about all
the main public services delivered in England, Northern Ireland, Scotland
and Wales. In 2006/07 the PHSO dealt with over 14,000 inquiries; and
completed over 2,500 investigations. Over 1,100 of the cases reported
on arose in the health sector (the Healthcare Commission, NHS Hospital
Trusts, Primary Care Trusts and primary care providers accounting for the
majority). The balance related to a wide range of government departments
and agencies, with the biggest repeat customers being HM Revenue and
Customs (especially in respect of tax credits), Jobcentre Plus, the Child
Support Agency, the Pension Service, and the Immigration and Nationality
Directorate (IND), as it then was. In 62 per cent of cases investigated, the
Ombudsman upheld the complaint in full or in part. In every one of the
cases reported on in 2006/07, the parties complied with the Ombudsmans
recommendations.
These quantitative figures disclose substantial reach and scope. The remedies
achieved as a result of PHSO investigation are equally diverse. In some cases,
the remedy is pecuniary: a payment of 335 by the IND for a postal fee
unnecessarily incurred; compensation from Jobcentre Plus for 18,000 arrears
of income support, late payment of benefit, lost entitlement to free school
meals and help with school uniforms; remittance by the Revenue of an
overpayment of 7,500; reimbursement by the Disability and Carers Service
of 9,500 to cover lost disability allowance plus interest over a four year
period.
2004, Cm.6243. See more generally, M. Seneviratne, Ombudsmen: Public Services and Administrative
Justice (Butterworths, 2002).
3 The context is set by H. Genn, Paths to Justice: What People Do and Think about Going to Law (Hart
Publishing, 1999).
4 SI 2007/1889.
Order enables the PHSO, and indeed the Local Government Ombudsman,
to appoint and pay a mediator or other appropriate person to assist in the
conduct of an investigation. There may well be cases where mediation is
especially appropriate in enabling the parties to explore their differences with a
trained facilitator, achieve insight and empowerment, and devise for themselves
a way forward. Other domestic ombudsman schemes, such as the Housing
Ombudsman Service, have made productive use of such arrangements for some
time.
The availability of mediation might also be of assistance to those engaged
in judicial review proceedings and referral by the court to mediation in such
circumstances would no doubt be appropriate. It should not be thought,
however, that the ombudsman is itself an agent of mediation. Mediation is
not a decision-making process. Crucially, it lacks the adjudicatory function
that is exercised by an ombudsman. In that regard, the ombudsman shares
an important judicial characteristic with the courts and tribunals. What
distinguishes the ombudsman from the courts and tribunals is not, then,
the lack of an adjudicatory function but rather the ability to adjudicate in
a different way. As Bean J. noted recently in his judgment in the judicial
review of the governments refusal to accept my finding of maladministration
in respect of official information provided about occupational pension
schemes, the ombudsman has very wide discretion; a public adversarial
hearing is not the only fair way of finding facts; and it is not the way
Parliament requires either of the Parliamentary or the Local Government
Ombudsmen.5
In other words, although ombudsman schemes may have plenty in common
with the courts and tribunals, they are far from perfect clones of them. Of
more interest, in fact, are the differences. Where the law, at least in this
jurisdiction, has traditionally been characterised by formality, the observance
of rigorous rules of evidence, adversarial process and the binding authority
of precedent, ombudsman practice by contrast has always prized its relative
informality, its common-sense approach to evidence, its inquisitorial process
and its capacity to do justice in the individual case, unfettered by the burden
of binding precedent. As one commentator put it, If the law is cold and rigid
in its adherence to universal principle, an ombudsman is warm and supple in
his or her response to the particular.6
It is of course precisely this sense of otherness that invests ombudsmen
schemes with their attraction for potential litigants. Like other alternatives
to the courts and tribunals, whether mediation, conciliation or arbitration,
ombudsmen rightly take pride in the relative speed, simplicity and low
cost of the individuated and essentially inquisitorial form of justice that
they administer. They have relative freedom in deciding for themselves the
best way to get to the real heart of a particular dispute, picking out the
key issues and if necessary redressing any imbalance of power between
5 R. (on the application of Bradley) v Secretary of State for Pensions [2007] EWHC 242 (Comm); [2007]
the parties. For those for whom the laws cost, delay and inflexibility
are active deterrents, the softer, gentler ombudsman way is naturally
enticing. It is, perhaps, a bit like (but only a bit!) the difference between
complementary and conventional medicine, between acupuncture and the
surgical knife.
And there is a bonus too. In order to remedy any mischief that is revealed
by the investigation, an ombudsman will generally have at his or her disposal
a range of devices that will not merely provide for justice between the
individual parties to the dispute but, crucially, that will also facilitate systemic
change. In other words, an ombudsman investigation has the potential to
transcend the inherent individualism of conventional litigation. This quality
is, for example, apparent in my own offices ability, provided by statute, to
produce special reports where necessary to root out systemic problems and
exercise a somewhat more systematic check on progress.7
It is tempting to suggest then that there is a considerable degree of rivalry
between ombudsman practice and the law, or at best that the two are related in
much the same way as chalk and cheese, by a superficial similarity that dissolves
on closer inspection into irremediable and disappointing difference. Yet the
aspirations of the courts and of ombudsmen are now, arguably, less than ever
before, polar opposites. Since Lord Woolfs reforms of the civil justice system
and the more recent reorganisation of the tribunal system, the emphasis in both
courts and tribunals is upon making each respective system work for those who
use it, and upon finding procedures that offer genuine access, authoritative
decisions and meaningful remedies. Underpinning these reforms is the horses
for courses philosophy I mentioned earlier, the recognition that the judicial
sledgehammer is hardly the appropriate tool for cracking every contested nut
in town.
Seen in that reformist light, the potential rivalry of ombudsmen and the
courts evaporates into potential partnership, with the ombudsman system a
mature and legitimate stable companion of the other two thoroughbreds.
Indeed in 2002 the Court of Appeal lent credence to this consensual
account, although, as explained above, it would be a mistake to look to
the ombudsman for mediation in the first instance, notwithstanding the new
Order which permits the Ombudsman to deploy external mediation services
where appropriate.8
On such a view, there is clearly a place for early referral of disputes
by the parties, or indeed by the courts and tribunals themselves, to an
ombudsman. As things stand, the Ombudsman is barred from investigating
any action in respect of which the person aggrieved has or had a remedy
by way of proceedings in any court of law, subject to the proviso that the
Commissioner [Ombudsman] may conduct an investigation notwithstanding
that the person aggrieved has or had such a right or remedy if satisfied that
in the particular circumstances it is unreasonable to expect him to resort or
7 For discussion of this power, see R. Kirkham, Auditing by stealth? Special Reports and the
9
Parliamentary Commissioner Act 1967 s.5(2).
10 Hansard, HL Vol.689, col.303 (January 31, 2007).
11 R. v North and East Devon Health Authority Ex p. Coughlan [2001] Q.B. 213.
12 Health Service Ombudsman, Second Report, NHS Funding for Long Term Care, HC Paper No.399
(Session 2002/03).
13 PHSO, Principles of Good Administration (2007). See also, British and Irish Ombudsman Association,
14 On the crisis of legalism facing human rights, see C. Gearty, Can human rights survive? The
2006. For discussion of the Review, see Joint Committee on Human Rights, Thirty-Second Report,
The Human Rights Act: the DCA and Home Office Reviews, HL Paper No.278/HC Paper No.716
(November 14, 2006).
16
Department for Constitutional Affairs, Human rights: human livesA Handbook for Public Authorities
(2006).
17 Anufrijeva v Southwark LBC [2003] EWCA Civ 1406; [2004] Q.B. 1124.
18
See, e.g. L. Clements and J. Read, Disabled people and human rights: a review of the implications of the
1998 Human Rights Act for disabled children and adults in the UK (Policy Press, 2003), p.92.
19 10thRound Table of European Ombudsmen and the Council of Europe Commissioner for Human
Rights, Athens, April 1213, 2007. For background to these discussions, see the Commissioners website
at http://www.coe.int/t/commissioner [accessed November 15, 2007].
and Probation Ombudsman, whose remit has been extended to cover deaths
in custody, is regularly confronting situations where the daily grievances of
prisoners and their families touch upon matters that go to the heart of what even
the most marginal can reasonably regard as the basic dignity afforded to their
humanity. In Northern Ireland the Police Service Ombudsman has established
herself as a significant force in the political culture, taking on investigations
that go to the heart of human decency, respect and tolerance. And my
own role of Parliamentary and Health Service Ombudsman inevitably entails
exploring aspects of public service delivery that have direct repercussions
for the dignity of individual citizens and their relationship with the State.
Human rights and ombudsmen are far from being strangers and might
yet play a larger role in delivering a human rights culture in the public
sector.
And thirdly, there is the matter of public law remedies, currently under
consideration by the Law Commission. My own office is also consulting on
a set of principles to govern the provision of remedy by the ombudsman.20
Within my own practice there already exists the notion of corrective justice,
of repairing damage and if necessary providing compensation not just for
financial loss but for softer disadvantage, such as injury to feelings. Within
the administrative justice system more widely, that underlying principle has
been slow to gain universal recognition and it may indeed be true that in
public law disputes its application is more complicated than in a private
law dispute between individuals. Nevertheless, the current differences in
approach to what might in essence be very similar causes of dispute cry
out for some form of rationalisation, in recognition of the need to ensure
that disputes find their way to the forum that is most likely to deliver the
right level of adjudication, the right remedy and the best prospects of future
prevention.
And that in short is an argument for integrating the ombudsman system
of justice more consciously and deliberately than at present into the wider
administrative justice system. There is little sign that any effective mechanisms
currently exist for ensuring that courts and tribunals refer suitable cases to
ombudsmen, although ombudsmen very often have it in their remit to
direct complainants to the courts and tribunals if competence lies in that
direction.
You will search in vain too for a branch of government that sees it as its job to
undertake the task of rationalisation. Even within the new Ministry of Justice,
where such a remit might be thought to reside, I see little appetite for the task
of imposing some sort of order upon the growth of the ombudsman sector.
That ombudsman schemes will continue to multiply seems almost inevitable.
Without strategic direction, and a coherent framework for the development
of new ombudsman schemes, that growth will surely undermine the sort of
potential outlined in this paper for ombudsmen to play an active part in the
delivery of appropriate dispute resolution and indeed of justice. Even worse,
20 PHSO Draft Principles for Remedy, Consultation March 2007, see http://www.ombudsman.org.uk
it will very likely lead to the need for fundamental surgery of the sort dealt
recently to the tribunal world.21 A Leggat review of ombudsmen cannot be
that far away.
It is not too late to avoid that prospect. But the first step will be for
government, and others, to recognise the part that ombudsmen can, and
already do, play as a system of justice in their own right. That does not
require a prime time TV slot, but it does require greater understanding of the
ombudsman landscape and a recognition that ombudsmen in this country have
undoubtedly come of age.
Ann Abraham*
21
See Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007.
* Parliamentary and Health Service Ombudsman. This is a revised version of a paper delivered at
W.G. Hart Workshop at the Institute of Advanced Legal Studies, London, June 27, 2007.
Constitutional reform
One of the many interesting ambiguities that has emerged from the debate so far
is the complicated interplay between codification and reform. Would the new
constitution simply be a formalised restatement of existing constitutional rules,
or would the opportunity be taken to reform some parts of the constitution?
Much of the excitement surrounding the project has been generated by
the wide possibilities it affords for radical change and improvement of the
constitution. Lord Hailshams assertion, pressed back in the late 1970s, that
a written constitution was needed to protect us against a stealthy communist
takeover now seems, perhaps, less compelling,1 but many other claims have
2 Institute for Public Policy Research, A Written Constitution for the United Kingdom (London: Mansell
6 Hailsham, The Dilemma of Democracy, Ch.20; Scarman, Why Britain Needs a Written Constitution,
pp.67.
7 Ministerial Code: A Code of Ethics and Procedural Guidance For Ministers (London: Cabinet Office,
2007).
8 O. Hood Phillips, Reform of the Constitution (London: Chatto & Windus, 1970), pp.147149.
Normally, certainty and clarity are desirable features of a legal system. Criminal
law, for instance, ought to strive to be as clear and as plain as it can be.
However, in certain circumstances a lack of clarity and the presence of
uncertainty can be a benefit.9 This is particularly true in parts of constitutional
law and practice where uncertainty may mask, and allow us to avoid, a costly
and unnecessary political choice. There are several examples of such useful
vagueness in the British constitution. Perhaps one of the longest standing
concerns the jurisdiction to determine the scope of parliamentary privilege, an
entitlement which has been asserted by both courts and the Commons. Both
have been able to maintain their incompatible claims by studiously avoiding
forcing a resolution of the question.10 The legal relationship between Britain
and the European Union is similarly unclear, with the boundaries between
Parliament and the European institutions, and the British courts and the
European Court of Justice, left ambiguous. This relationship is one of the key
parts of our contemporary constitution, so how might a written constitution
delineate it? Let us consider three possibilities, which embody very different
balances of power between the various institutions.
First, the Europhile model, a model which is broadly in line with the
claims of the European Court of Justice.11 Under this model, European law
takes effect within the United Kingdom simply because the United Kingdom
is a member of the European Union. European law would be supreme over all
domestic lawincluding the provisions of the new constitution. The European
Court of Justice would be entitled to determine the interpretation of European
law and, additionally, whether a particular question fell within the scope of
European law. National courts would be bound to follow all of its rulings.
Second, the German model, a model which is broadly in line with
the position adopted by the German Constitutional Court in the Maastricht
decision.12 Under this model, European law would take effect within the
United Kingdoms legal order through the new constitution. It would take
precedence over conflicting rules of ordinary domestic law, including statutes,
but would not take precedence over the constitution itself. National courts
would be bound to follow the rulings of the European Court of Justice only
when those decisions were compatible with the constitution. Further, the court
might also be entitled to determine whether the decisions of the European
Court of Justice fell within the jurisdiction allotted to it by the domestic
constitution.13
9 For extended discussion of these points, see N.W. Barber, Legal Pluralism and the European
Weiler, The Autonomy of the Community Legal Order, in J. Weiler, The Constitution of Europe
(Cambridge University Press, 1999).
12 Brunner v The European Treaty [1994] C.M.L.R. 57.
13 Institute for Public Policy Research, A Written Constitution for the United Kingdom, p.105.
14 R. v Secretary of State for Transport Ex. p. Factortame (No.2) [1991] 1 A.C. 603.
15 R. v Secretary of State for Transport Ex. p. Factortame (No.2) [1991] 1 A.C. 603 at 658.
16 See the discussion of this temptation in P. Oliver, The Constitution of Independence: The Development
of Constitutional Theory in Australia, Canada and New Zealand (Oxford University Press, 2005), p.313.
17 See generally, M. Maduro, Europe and the Constitution: What If This Is As Good As It Gets?
in J. Weiler and M. Wind (eds), European Constitutionalism Beyond The State (Cambridge University
Press, 2003).
18 N.W. Barber and A.L. Young, Prospective Henry VIII Clauses and their Implications for
Taking Rights Seriously? (1992) 12 L.S. 227, though see also J. Weiler and N. Lockhart, Taking
Rights Seriously Seriously: The European Court and its Fundamental Rights Jurisprudence (1995)
32 C.M.L.Rev. 51 and 579.
Britains relationship with Europe is not the only area of the constitution
marked by useful ambiguity. The constitutional relationships between the
Monarch and Prime Minister, between the Prime Minister and his cabinet,
and between the executive and the legislature all have significant areas of
uncertainty within them. Some of these uncertainties may be undesirable
and should be resolved. But many serve to give each institution a plausible
constitutional argument against the other body, an argument that may serve as
a bargaining chip in a political struggle, buying respect and moderation.
Conclusion
Britain is one of a very few states which lack a written constitution, but this
bare accident of history does not provide an argument for us to adopt one.
Britains constitution has, by and large, been a success. It has produced stable
government andin terms of democracy, transparency, human rights and
the provision of social welfareit compares reasonably favourably with many
other constitutions. Those calling for change in particular areas often make a
strong case: the House of Lords is in desperate need of reform, for instance,
and the English Question continues to dog the devolution settlement. But
these specific issues do not show a need for wholesale reform of the entire
system. Unless advocates of a written constitution can show a need for systemic
change, for a new constitutional settlement, it is hard to see what we will gain
by undertaking the exercise. This paper has sought to show, however, what
we will risk.
N.W. Barber*
Vernon Bogdanor*
3
1992 S.L.T. 221.
4(1872) 36 J.P. 54.
* Brasenose College, Oxford.
Some of the proposed reforms (see the table below for an overview) may be
seen as steps to address unfinished business from the Blair era. House of Lords
1
Uncorrected transcript of evidence, October 23, 2007, Q45.
2 Hansard, HC col.815 (July 3, 2007).
3 Cm.7170, p.5.
4
Ministry of Justice, The Governance of Britain: Judicial Appointments, Cm.7210.
5 Home Office, The Governance of Britain: Managing Protest Around Parliament, Cm.7235.
6 The recent Greater London Authority Act 2007 s.4, which creates a procedure for confirmation
hearings before committees of the Greater London Assembly for various appointments to be made by
the Mayor, may serve as something of a model.
7 Cm.7170, para.212.
Gaps
There are some gaps in the Green Paper. Very little is said about the
impact of the United Kingdoms membership of the European Union on
governmental practices and future reform of our domestic constitution. It
is, arguably, quite difficult to address the two problems the Green Paper
aims atpublic disengagement with the democratic process and the need to
build social cohesiveness around a stronger sense of Britishnesswithout
considering the role of the European Union. Attempts to reinvigorate the
House of Commons powers vis-a-vis the executive need to acknowledge
that a significant proportion of policy and legislative initiatives stems from the
European Union rather than the UK Government. Also notable by its absence,
in this context and others, is any reference to referendums as a method
of re-engaging the public with the democratic process. The Conservatives
and the Liberal Democrats both support a referendum on ratification of the
EU Reform Treaty, but the Government has ruled out any review of the
constitutional principles that ought to govern when referendums are called on
major constitutional reforms.8
Also absent from the Green Paper is a clear vision for the future of devolution.
Indeed, paras 141144 of the Green Paper make strange reading. This passage
has about it the air of a piece of text that has been cut and pasted out of
context. No policy proposals are made. It is perhaps intended to be a riposte to
the Conservatives call for English votes for English laws, but does not address
this directly. This next round of constitutional reform takes place at a time
when the devolved governments in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland all
include ministers whose ultimate political aim is to break the link between
those nations and the United Kingdom. Another gap is that little is said about
the role of the reformed House of Lords.
Many aspects of the Brown-Straw reform agenda will receive support from the
Conservatives and Liberal Democrats. The project to reform the prerogative
powersstarting with prior parliamentary authorisation for troop deployments,
putting the Ponsonby rule on statutory footing to ensure scrutiny of treaties
ahead of ratification, and the principle of a Civil Service Actenjoys broad
cross-party support. Giving greater powers to the House of Commons to
hold the executive to account is a motherhood and apple pie issue; but
the opposition parties will want a great deal more than is on offer in the
Green Paper. An all-party Business Committee to control the Commons
8
Lord Dyke recently asked whether the Government will review the extent to which referenda on
major national constitutional issues are compatible with the role of the elected representatives of the
people in the House of Commons. The answer: The Government have no plans to do so. Parliament
is sovereign in the UK political system. This means that it is for the Government to take a view and
for Parliament to decide whether or not to hold a referendum on any particular issueand what the
terms of that referendum should be (Lord Hunt of Kings Heath, Hansard, HL col.WA193 (October
30, 2007).
timetable and select committee chairmen elected by the whole House are
likely to be steps too far for the Governmentthough to Jack Straws credit
he has indicated a willingness to debate such issues.9 For the Conservatives,
the English Question is a live constitutional problem sidestepped by the
Green Paper and they (with Liberal Democrat support) are arguing that Bills
relating to England only should be scrutinised and voted on only by MPs for
English constituencies. The Prime Minister, not least because he represents a
constituency in Scotland, will not give way on this.
Next steps
By late October 2007, four consultation papers on specific aspects of the reform
agenda had been published: on judicial appointments; on troop deployment
powers and treaty-making (other prerogative powers will follow); on protests
outside Parliament; and on reform of the role of the Attorney General. Subject
to the outcomes of the consultation processes, a Draft Constitutional Renewal
Bill is expected in early 2008 and will be subject to pre-legislative scrutiny in
Parliament,10 probably by a Joint Committee of both Houses.
Meanwhile, a national conversation is taking place, led by Jack Straw,
involving a series of citizens workshops and summits at local, regional and
national level. Gordon Brown was quick to dismiss the idea that there should
be a single constitutional convention of the great and the good, prompting
Anthony Kings wry observation, citing events in Philadelphia in 1787, that
well-considered and durable constitutions do actually emerge from gatherings
of the great and the goodand from nowhere else.11 A central aspect of the
national conversation will be to work with the public to develop a British
statement of values that will set out the ideals and principles that bind us
together as a nation. The Government expects tolerance to emerge as a,
possibly the, central value.12 As part of the discussion on Britishness, Lord
Goldsmith, the former Attorney General, will make a report on citizenship
to the Prime Minister in March 2008. The relationship between the British
statement of values (which is not the same as a statement of British values) and
the British Bill of Rights and Duties remains to be seen.
Andrew Le Sueur*
9
House of Commons Constitutional Affairs Committee, Transcript of uncorrected evidence, July
24, 2007 (to be published as HC Paper No.987-i).
10 The Governments concession of a draft Bill and pre-legislative scrutiny for this constitutional
measure is in itself a significant development. Despite the Blair administrations stated support for draft
Bills as a way of improving the policy-making and legislative process, no major constitutional reform
Bill was introduced in this way.
11 Constitutional Fiddling, Prospect Magazine, September 2007. Jack Straw responds to this point
Table 1: (Continued)
Initiative How and when to be
implemented
Allow Speaker of the House of Amendment to the Standing Orders
Commons to consider a request of the House of Commons,
from a majority of MPs for a presumably during 2007/08 Session.
recall, not merely (as at present)
following a request from the
government [37]
Reform of governments role in Primary legislation may be needed
Church of England appointments but executive action has already led
[57] to Prime Minister no longer having
discretion in relation to selection of
bishops.
Reform of judicial appointments Consultation on options: The
[69] Governance of Britain: Judicial
Appointments, Cm.7210. Primary
legislation may be needed to amend
the Constitutional Reform Act 2005.
House of Commons role in To be included in Draft
relation to other public Constitutional Reform Bill.
appointments [74]
Limiting ministers involvement in Executive action with immediate
the granting of honours [85]but effect.
not peerages
Intelligence and Security To be included in the Draft
Committee to operate so far as Constitutional Reform Bill.
possible like other select
committees [92]
Annual debates in House of Consultation with Modernisation
Commons on main departments Committee leading to changes in
objectives and plans [103] parliamentary practice, probably
during 2007/08 Session.
Independence for the Office of Statistics and Registration Service Act
National Statistics [112] received Royal Assent in July 2007.
Nine regional ministers for Ministerial appointments by
English regions, to be shadowed executive action with immediate
by nine regional select committees effect; select committees are a matter
[115], [119] for the House of Commons.
(continued overleaf )
Table 1: (Continued)
Initiative How and when to be
implemented
Ministerial Code amended in Executive action with immediate
various ways, with a new effect.
Independent Adviser [121]
Reform of composition of House Primary legislation will be required
of Lords to make it substantially following cross-party discussions; Bill
or wholly elected [129] unlikely to be introduced during
2007/08 Session.
Arrangements on election day Primary legislation will be required.
[149], including weekend voting
Review of voting systems [155] Executive action, due to be
completed by end of 2007.
Public petitions [157] House of Commons Procedure
Committee to consider
improvements to the way that
petitions to Parliament are received
and considered.
Easing restrictions on protests Consultation followed by
around Parliament [164] amendment of the Serious Organised
Crime and Police Act 2005, probably
during 2007/08 Session
Right of charities to campaign Primary legislation may not be
[167] needed.
Local communities [169] Consultation on various ways to
enhance democracy by devolving
more power directly to the people.
Three times since the beginning of the 21st century the Judicial Committee of
the Privy Council (JCPC) has exercised its undoubted power to overrule its
own earlier decisions: in Lewis v Attorney General (Jamaica),1 Boyce and Joseph v
The Queen2 and, most recently, in Gibson v Government of the United States of
America.3
In this last-mentioned case the JCPC overruled its earlier decision in
Cartwright v Superintendent of HM Prison4 in which the Board had held, by a
majority of three to two, that an appeal against a grant of habeas corpus by
a judge of the Supreme Court of Bahamas, which did not fall within s.11(5)
of the Extradition Act 1994, was nonetheless covered by s.17(3) of the Court
of Appeal Act (as amended); which provides for a right of appeal against:
any declaratory order, order of mandamus, order of prohibition or order of
certiorari made by the Supreme Court in any proceedings. While the Boards
conclusion that the Court of Appeal did not, in fact, have jurisdiction under
s.17(3) to deal with an appeal against a grant of habeas corpus was in itself
uncontroversialall seven members of the Board agreed upon this pointthe
Board was deeply divided on the question of whether it should overrule its
earlier decision in Cartwright.
Unlike the House of Lords, which only recognised a power to overrule
its own decisions following the issue of the Practice Statement in 1966,5 the
JCPC has never considered itself to be bound by its own prior decisions.6 This
difference reflects other differences in the practice and procedure of the JCPC,
the role of which is to advise the sovereign and which, though based in London,
is, in fact, a Commonwealth court. Furthermore, until 1966 the JCPC could
not deliver dissenting judgments and even then assenting judgments were not
permissible.7 Notwithstanding the existence of the power to overrule its own
decisions the JCPC has always recognised that it should be exercised with great
hesitation,8 and previously the power had only been exercised on a handful of
occasions, of which the most recent and, perhaps, well known is the decision
in Pratt and Morgan v Attorney General (Jamaica).9 In this case the Board decided
Montreal [1931] W.W.R. 364 and Gideon Nkambule v R [1950] A.C. 379.
7 It should also be noted that the JCPC has never regarded itself as bound to follow decisions of
the House of Lords and recently refused to follow the House of Lords on the law of provocation: see
Attorney General (Jersey) v Holley [2005] UKPC 23; [2005] 2 A.C. 580.
8 Attorney General (Ontario) v Council Temperance Federation [1946] A.C. 193.
9 [1994] 2 A.C. 1.
to overrule the earlier decision in Riley v Attorney General (Jamaica) and to allow
prolonged delay to be taken into account in determining whether the carrying
out of the death sentence violated a constitutional guarantee against inhuman
or degrading punishment. To an extent, the Boards decision to exercise its
overruling power in this case was made easier by the fact that all nine members
of the Board were unanimous in concluding that the earlier decision in Riley
should be overruled. However, in the three most recent instances in which
the JCPC has overruled itself, the question of whether they should overrule an
earlier decision has deeply divided the members of the Board.
The aim of this article is, therefore, to look at the differing approaches of the
majority and dissenting minority in each of these three cases and to ask whether,
despite the differences in approach, it is still possible to identify some common
principles underpinning the exercise of its overruling power by the JCPC.
Lewis
Three distinct questions arose on this appeal from Jamaica. Put broadly, they
were as follows: first, whether the exercise of the prerogative of mercy is
judicially reviewable; secondly, whether a condemned prisoner has the right
not to be executed before his petition to an international human rights
body has been concluded; and, thirdly, whether the passage of time and
the way that a condemned prisoner is treated in prison could violate the
constitutional guarantee against inhuman or degrading treatment so as to lead
to the commutation of the death sentence. Whether or not the Board should
overrule an earlier decision had to be answered separately in relation to each
of these questions.
The first question had previously been considered by the Board on two
occasions, in De Freitas v Benny10 and Reckley v Minister of Public Safety and Immi-
gration (No.2),11 and on both occasions the Board had ruled that the exercise of
the prerogative was non-justiciable. In considering whether or not to overrule
these earlier decisions, in particular Reckley (No.2), the majority acknowledged
that the need for legal certainty demanded that they should not depart from
such a recent decision which had been fully reasoned unless there were strong
grounds to do so. However, whereas herea mans life was at stake, the
majority considered that they were not obliged to abide rigidly by the principle
of stare decisis; the earlier decision could be overruled so long as they were
satisfied that the Board in the earlier case had adopted a wrong approach.12
The second and third questions had also both been the subject of very
recent decisions of the Board. In Fisher (No.2) v Minister of Public Safety and
Immigration13 and Higgs v Minister of National Security,14 both on appeal from
the Bahamas, the Board had expressly rejected the argument that a prisoner
enjoyed a constitutional right not to be executed prior to the completion of
his petition to an international human rights body, such as the Inter American
Commission of Human Rights (IACHR). While it is true that in between
these two decisions, in Thomas v Baptiste,15 the Board had held on almost
identical facts that the due process clause contained in the Constitution of
Trinidad and Tobago should be read as including the right of a condemned
prisoner to complete his petition to the IACHR before being executed, the
Board also said in Thomas that this did not mean that the ruling in Fisher
(No.2) was wrong. Instead, it held that the ruling in Fisher (No.2) should be
distinguished on the basis that the Constitution of the Bahamas, unlike the
Constitution of Trinidad and Tobago, did not contain an express due process
clause. In Lewis, the majority sidestepped this somewhat inconvenient fact by
upholding that aspect of Thomas which recognised the right of a condemned
prisoner to await the outcome of his petition to the IACHR before he was
executed; while, at the same time, disregarding that aspect of the ruling which
held that the recognition of such a right could not extend to a constitution,
such as the Constitution of Jamaica, which did not include an express due
process clause. In Thomas and Higgs, the Board had also expressly rejected
the argument that prison conditions, even if they violated the constitutional
guarantee against inhuman or degrading treatment, could of themselves lead
to a commutation of the death sentence, on the ground that there was not a
sufficient nexus between the conditions in which a prisoner was held and
his execution.16
In overruling the Boards earlier decisions in Fisher (No.2) and Higgs, on
the right of a condemned prisoner to await the outcome of his appeal to the
IACHR before he is executed, and in Thomas and Higgs, on the relevance of
prison conditions to the commutation of the death sentence, the majority in
Lewis made little or no attempt to explain why these decisions were wrong.
This caused Lord Hoffmann, in an exceptionally critical dissenting opinion, to
take issue, not only with the majoritys decision on the three questions arising
on the appeal, but also with the majoritys approach to the principle of stare
decisis. Citing the majority judgment of the US Supreme Court in Planned
Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v Casey,17 Lord Hoffmann argued that the
Board should not overrule a previous decision unless a justification for doing so
could be advanced, which extended beyond a doctrinal disposition to come
out differently. This rule was particularly relevant, in Lord Hoffmanns view,
to a court such as the JCPC which has a continually fluctuating membership:
If the Board feels able to depart from a previous decision simply because
its members on a given occasion have a doctrinal disposition to come
out differently, the rule of law itself will be damaged and there will be
no stability in the administration of justice in the Caribbean.18
Boyce
In this case, on appeal from Barbados, which was argued before an enlarged
panel of seven members, the Board had to consider the constitutionality of
the mandatory death penalty for murder pursuant to s.2 of the Offences
Against the Person Act 1994.19 Since the Board had already held in Reyes
v The Queen20 that a mandatory death penalty violated the guarantee against
inhuman or degrading punishment to be found in all of the independence
constitutions of the Commonwealth Caribbean, the only question for the
Board to consider in Boyce and Joseph was whether the mandatory death penalty
was saved from constitutional challenge by a general savings clause in the
Constitution of Barbados,21 which provides that no existing law shall be held to
be inconsistent or in contravention of the fundamental rights guaranteed by the
Constitution. Counsel for the appellants sought to argue that, notwithstanding
the savings clause for existing laws, s.2 should be construed by reference to the
modifications clause contained in s.4(1) of the Barbados Independence Order,
which provides that:
[E]xisting laws shall be construed with such modifications, adaptations,
qualifications and exceptions as may be necessary to bring them into
conformity with [the Constitution].
The effect of construing s.2 through the prism of the modifications clause
would be to substitute a discretionary death penalty in place of the mandatory
death penalty, thereby bringing it into conformity with the Constitution. In
fact, the Board had already considered this self-same question a few months
earlier in relation to the Constitution of Trinidad and Tobago, in Roodal v
The State,22 and in that case had held that pursuant to a similar modifications
clause to be found in s.5(1) of the Constitution Act 1976, a law prescribing a
mandatory death penalty for murder23 would be read as providing instead for
a discretionary death penalty.
In rejecting the appellants argument in relation to the Constitution of
Barbados, and overruling the earlier decision in Roodal, Lord Hoffmann,
delivering judgment for the majority, acknowledged that ordinarily there
would be powerful arguments for not departing from the earlier decision. He
argued, however, that the Board was justified in doing so in this case because
the issue was one of great public importance in relation to the constitutionality
of the death penalty and because the effect of following the decision in
Roodal would have been to lay open the whole of the pre-independence
law of Barbados to constitutional challenge for lack of conformity with the
fundamental rights guaranteed by the Constitution. In Lord Hoffmans view
these constituted exceptional circumstances which justified the overruling
of Roodal. The minority, while maintaining that the decision in Roodal was
19 Which replaced s.2 of the Offences Against the Person Act 1868.
20 [2002] UKPC 11; [2002] 2 A.C. 235.
21
s.26.
22 [2003] UKPC 78; [2005] 1 A.C. 328.
23 Offences Against the Person Act 1925 s.4.
right and that the majoritys reading of the Constitution was not the only
possible reading, did not seek to mount any challenge to the justifications
offered by Lord Hoffmann for overruling the decision in Roodal.
Gibson
In contrast to Lewis and Boyce, in both of which the Board was divided on
the substantive issue(s) raised by the appeal, all seven members of the Board
in Gibson agreed that the Boards earlier ruling in Cartwright was wrong. They
were, however, still divided four to three on the question of whether it should
be overruled.
Delivering judgment for the majority, Lord Brown acknowledged that the
power to overrule should be exercised sparingly and also conceded that,
as Lord Reid had observed in R. v National Insurance Commissioner Ex p.
Hudson, the power should ordinarily only be exercised where the previous
wrong decision was thought to be impeding the proper development of
the law or to have led to results which were unjust or contrary to public
policy.24 Though neither of those factors was present in this case, Lord
Brown considered that the Board would still be justified in overruling the
decision in Cartwright for the following reasons. First, the members of the
Board were unanimous in holding that Cartwright was wrong. Secondly, the
answer to the question posed in Cartwright did not depend on the proper
construction of a complicated statutory provision where it is possible to have
more than one view on which construction is right. Nor was it the kind of case
where the Board was seeking to overrule an earlier decision simply because a
new majority are doctrinally disposed to come out differently. Thirdly, the
case concerned the liberty of an individual who, had the law been interpreted
correctly, would not have been rearrested. Finally, the Board should recognise
that its task is to ensure justice according to the law. Where, as here, the
Court of Appeal had no jurisdiction to entertain the appeal the Board should
not now shrink from saying so.25
Lord Hoffmann, delivering judgment for the minority, found himself in the
curious position in Gibson of having been part of the dissenting minority in
Cartwright, but at the same time regarding himself as bound by the principle
of stare decisis not to overrule the majority decision in Cartwright. In Lord
Hoffmanns view the power of a final appellate court to overrule an earlier
decision must be exercised on some rational principles. In this regard the
observations of Lord Reid in Hudson provided an important guide, as did the
comments of the US Supreme Court in Planned Parenthood:
. . . a decision to overrule should rest upon some special reason over and
above belief that the prior case was wrongly decided.26
No such special reasons existed in this case. The decision in Cartwright was
not impeding the proper development of the law. Following Cartwright, the
24
[1972] A.C. 944 at 966.
25 [2007] UKPC 52; [2007] 1 W.L.R. 2367 at [28].
26 505 U.S. 833 at 864 (1992).
27 J.W. Harris, Towards Principles of OverrulingWhen Should a Final Court of Appeal Second
supposed on either side that there are two views . . . each of which is equally
plausible.29 In the latter case what separates those on either side is rather a
matter of subjective impression: there are two tenable views,30 or two
eminently possible views.31
Where a decision is infected by impressionistic wrongness, the finality
rationale holds sway and the court is not justified in overruling the earlier
decision. As Lord Wilberforce explained in Fitzleet Estates:
Nothing could be more undesirable, in fact, than to permit litigants,
after a decision has been given by this House with all appearance of
finality, to return to this House in the hope that a differently constituted
committee might be persuaded to take the view which its predecessors
rejected. True that the earlier decision was by majority: I say nothing
as to its correctness or to the validity of the reasoning by which it was
supported. That there were two eminently possible views is shown by
the support for each by at any rate two members of the House. Doubtful
issues have to be resolved and the law knows no better way of resolving
them than by the considered majority opinion of the ultimate tribunal. It
requires much more than doubts as to the correctness of such opinion to
justify departing from it.32
Where, on the other hand, the decision is infected by objective wrongness,
and involves a fundamental principle, a final appellate court is justified in
overruling an earlier decision on the ground that fidelity to objective legal
truth on fundamental matters should prevail over the finality rationale.33 J.W.
Harris accepts that there are no mechanical means by which decisions can be
assigned to the categories of impressionistic or objective wrongness; or
even of deciding whether a decision relates to a principle of fundamental
importance. However, in the case of the rules and principles of the common
law fundamentality will depend upon a judgment about the importance of
the rights they embody against the executive or the mutual responsibilities of
citizens which they embody.
Though J.W. Harris claims no more for his framework of distinctions than
that it makes explicit the phenomenology of adjudication in overruling cases,
his taxonomy clearly carries a strong normative force; giving precedence to
the values inherent in the doctrine of stare decisis, unless the earlier decision is
seen to be objectively wrong and a fundamental principle is at stake. B.V.
Harris is critical of this approach.34 This is, in part, because of the difficulty in
defining what counts as fundamental, but also because he does not accept
29
Harris, Towards Principles of OverrulingWhen Should a Final Court of Appeal Second
Guess?, at p.189.
30 Hudson [1972] A.C. 944 at 996.
31
Fitzleet Estates Ltd v Cherry (Inspector of Taxes) [1977] 3 All E.R. 996 at 999.
32 Fitzleet Estates Ltd v Cherry (Inspector of Taxes) [1977] 3 All E.R. 996 at 999.
33 Harris, Towards Principles of OverrulingWhen Should a Final Court of Appeal Second
Guess?, at p.189
34 B.V. Harris, Final Appellate Courts Overruling Their Own Wrong Precedents: The Ongoing
that the values inherent in the principle of stare decisis should automatically
trump the other values that may be in play in the case; in particular, the
value of doing overall justice and improving the state of the law for the
benefit of both the immediate litigants and future society.35 In his view,
the central weakness of the no new reasons principle is that it fails to take
into account the possibility that reasons may be given a different and more
appropriate weighting in a subsequent appeal so as to produce a more just
decision. The principle thus confers an arbitrary advantage on the court initially
setting the precedent, based on nothing more than the fortuity that it was
the first court that had the opportunity to set a precedent in respect of the
issue.36 B.V. Harris would, accordingly, substitute for the no new reasons
principle a much more open-textured discretion, which would allow the court
systematically to weigh up all competing considerationsthe values inherent
in the principle of stare decisis and the consequences of the perpetuation of a
wrong precedentwhen deciding whether or not to exercise the overruling
power.
While these alternative approaches to the exercise of the overruling power
may not map exactly on to the majority and minority judgments in Lewis and
Gibson there is a sufficient correspondence between them to suggest that in both
Lewis and Gibson the majority favoured the more liberal approach advocated
by B.V. Harris, while the minority subscribed to the more conservative
approach endorsed by J.W. Harris.
Thus, in Lewis, the majority, having decided that the earlier decisions
were wrong, despite no new reasons being advanced, concluded that, overall,
justice would be better served by allowing, inter alia, judicial review of the
prerogative of mercy; and that this outweighed the benefits to be gained from
rigidly adhering to the principle of stare decisis. In Lord Hoffmanns judgment,
on the other hand, the failure to identify any new reasons fatally undermined
the argument for overruling the earlier decisions. In his view, what separated
the members of the Board forming the majority in Lewis from the members
of the Board who formed the majority in the earlier decisions was a mere
disposition to come out differently, which is not sufficient, according to the
conservative approach, to displace the rationale of finality.
In Gibson, all seven members of the Board held that the decision in Cartwright
was wrong and while the decision could reasonably be categorised as objec-
tively wrong this would not be enough of itself, according to the conservative
approach, to warrant the decision being overruled because the power to over-
rule is also subject to the no new reasons constraint. Thus Lord Hoffmann
sought to argue that, since no new reasons were advanced in Gibson that had
not already been canvassed in Cartwright and since there was no special reason
for overruling the earlier decision, such as improving the law, the Board was
bound to abide by the principle of stare decisis. For the majority, on the other
35 Harris, Final Appellate Courts Overruling Their Own Wrong Precedents: The Ongoing Search
hand, the absence of new reasons was not an insuperable obstacle; whatever
the values inherent in the principle of stare decisis they were outweighed in
this case by the fact that the decision was concerned with the individuals right
to liberty and the need to ensure justice according to the law.
The correspondence with the liberal and conservative approaches may not
be so obvious in Boyce and Joseph, but it is arguable that the decision to overrule
Roodal can still be accommodated within the conservative approach, subject to
two caveats. The first is that while Lord Hoffmann, for the majority, viewed
the argument adopted by the majority in Roodal with regard to the effect
of the modifications clause as objectively wrong, it was, nevertheless, a
possible reading and the one preferred both by the majority in Roodal and
by a substantial minority in Boyce. The second is that while Lord Hoffmann
justified the overruling of the decision in Roodal on the ground that it involved
a matter of great public importance, it did not involve a fundamental
principle in the sense described by J.W. Harris. It was not concerned with
guarding the rights of the individual against the executive, but rather the right
of the executive to rely on laws which violated the rights guaranteed by the
Constitution so long as the laws were in force at the time of independence.
Conclusion
While three cases may not be enough on which to build a critical theory,
the foregoing analysis suggests that the Board is developing two distinct
approaches to the exercise of its overruling powera liberal and a conservative
approachboth of which raise profound questions of policy and principle
which are not easily resolvable.
In Lewis the majority believed that where a mans right to life is at stake
all that is necessary to justify the exercise of the overruling power is a belief
that the earlier decision was wrong. It is submitted, however, that while
the urge to overrule an earlier decision which is believed to be wrong and
where the effect of overruling the decision could be to save a mans life may
be irresistible, respect for the values inherent in the principle of stare decisis
and the need to maintain public confidence in the judicial system also demand
the kind of close and detailed analysis of the reasons why the earlier decision
is adjudged to be wrong, which was conspicuously absent from the majoritys
reasoning in Lewis. As Lord Hoffmann caustically noted:
On the [IACHR] issue, the majority have found in the ancient concept
of the due process of law a philosophers stone, undetected by generations
of judges, which can convert the base metal of executive action into the
gold of legislative power. It does not however explain how the trick is
done.37
However, the conservative approach favoured by Lord Hoffmann is also not
without its difficulties, as demonstrated by the decision in Boyce. Why should
the reasoning of the majority in Boyce be considered sufficiently superior to
justify overruling the decision of the majority in Roodal? And even if upholding
Roodal would have meant that the pre-independence laws of Barbados would be
subject to the fundamental rights guaranteed by the Constitution of Barbados,
there are many who would argue that this would have been a very desirable
outcome.
Though falling squarely on the liberal side of the divide, the majority
judgment in Gibson does at least offer some promise of a compromise between
these two approaches by striking a balance between the perceived need to do
justice while at the same time respecting the values inherent in the principle of
stare decisis. There is thus an implicit acknowledgment that the Board should
be less prepared to overrule an earlier decision merely because a new majority
favours a different approach to certain highly contentious issues. There is
also a conscious effort systematically to weigh up the competing considerations
for and against overruling the earlier decision. Thus, in Gibson the need to
ensure justice according to the law where an individuals liberty was at
stake was deemed sufficient to justify overruling the earlier decision. While
the appeal to justice according to the law may appear to favour form over
substance, it is arguable that public confidence in the administration of the
justice system was better served by overruling Cartwright than by allowing a
decision, unanimously agreed to be wrong, to stand merely because it was
adjudged to produce the right result by preventing the appellant from escaping
deportation on a legal technicality. It is this latter argument which lies at the
core of Lord Hoffmanns dissent and it comes uncomfortably close to the ends
being used to justify the means.
Derek OBrien*
* School of Social Sciences and Law, Oxford Brookes University. The author would like to thank
the anonymous referee for the very helpful comments on an earlier draft of this article.
Vernon Bogdanor
Professor of Government, Oxford University
Stefan Vogenauer*
Professor of Comparative Law, Oxford University
In The Law of the Constitution, Dicey wrote that a British writer on the
constitution has good reason to envy professors who belong to countries such
as France . . . or the United States, endowed with constitutions on which
the terms are to be found in printed documents, known to all citizens and
accessible to every man who is able to read.1 Britain remains, together with
New Zealand and Israel, one of just three democracies which are still not
endowed with a written, or, more properly, a codified constitution.
It has, from time to time, been suggested that Britain would be better
off with such a constitution. The Labour Party, during its long period in
opposition between 1979 and 1997, came to the conclusion that constitutional
checks and balances might be of value in helping to control what had become
in their view an elective dictatorship, and in 1991, a think tank sympathetic
to the Labour Party, the Institute for Public Policy Research, published a
highly detailed Constitution for the United Kingdom.2 Since then, the argument
has gathered strength, partly because of the large number of statutes of a
constitutional character that have been enacted since 1997. It seems that we
* We are grateful for comments on an earlier draft to Professor Anthony Bradley, Professor Andrew
Le Sueur and Dr Andrew Stockley. But they are not to be implicated either in our arguments or our
conclusions.
1 A.V. Dicey, Introduction to the Study of the Law of the Constitution, 10th edn (Macmillan, 1959), p.4.
2 Institute for Public Policy Research, 1991. See, on this exercise, James Cornford, On Writing a
Constitution (1991) 44 Parliamentary Affairs 558571; Dawn Oliver, Written Constitutions: Principles
and Practices (1992) 45 Parliamentary Affairs 135152; and Rodney Brazier, Enacting a Constitution
(1992) 13 Statute Law Review 104127. See also Brazier, How Near is a Written Constitution? (2001)
52 Northern Ireland Legal Quarterly 119.
may have been undergoing a process, unique in the democratic world, with the
exception of the Israeli experience, of transforming an uncodified constitution
into a codified one, gradually and piecemeal without any sort of consensus
on what the end result should be. It might seem natural, then, to suggest
that the process now be completed with the production of a fully codified
constitution. In October 2006, Lord Goldsmith, the then Attorney General,
called for a debate on the subject3 ; and Gordon Brown, both as Chancellor of
the Exchequer, and as Prime Minister, has suggested that a codified constitution
might strengthen the sense of Britishness. The Green Paper issued shortly after
Gordon Brown became Prime Minister suggests that there is now a growing
recognition of the need to clarify not just what it means to be British, but what
it means to be the United Kingdom. This might in time lead to a concordat
between the executive and Parliament or a written constitution.4 Amongst
opposition parties, the Liberal Democrats have long been committed to a
codified constitution.
In a letter to The Times, on February 8, 2006, Mr Stephen Hockman,
Chairman of the Bar Council for England and Wales, argued that, following
a period of constitutional reform, the vast majority of us lack a clear and
comprehensive understanding of what the terms of our constitution actually
are. He therefore suggested enacting:
. . . a codifying measure, which would contain in a single piece of
legislation all the key constitutional principles and procedures which
underpin the governance of the country. Such a measure would enable
every citizen to know and to understand how the British Constitution
works, and above all would provide a clear framework against which to
judge not only the decisions and actions of those who govern us, but also
any proposal which they may make for reform.
The drafting of a codified constitution is also, no doubt, a staple in many
university courses on constitutional law. One of the authors of this article
remembers attending, many years ago as an undergraduate at Oxford, a seminar
aimed at producing just such a document, given by F.H. Lawson, H.W.R.
Wade, and the doyen of constitutional studies in Britain, K.C. Wheare.5
The two authors of this article decided to conduct a similar exercise at
Oxford in the autumn term of 2006. We held weekly meetings at which small
groups of students from the law and political science faculties, both graduates
and undergraduates, prepared for discussion each week a specific section of
the constitution, for example the legislature, the judiciary, human rights.
Eventually, a complete constitution was achieved and it has been published
by the Smith Institute as an appendix to a set of essays entitled Towards a
New Constitutional Settlement edited by Chris Bryant MP and in the Political
Quarterly, 2007.6
Scope
The first and most obvious problem is to decide what should be included.
Stephen Hockman, in his letter to The Times, suggested that a constitution
should include [a]ll the key constitutional principles and procedures which
underpin the governance of the country, (our emphasis). But perhaps that is a
utopian aspiration. A constitution, after all, enacts a selection of the rules which
control the conduct of government in a state. If, moreover, the constitution
is to have, as Stephen Hockman would wish, an educative function, then it
would need to be comparatively short. A selection, therefore, would need to
be made amongst those laws and perhaps also conventions so as to isolate those
which express constitutional principles and procedures.8
Dicey, who of course saw no value in an enacted constitution for Britain,
analysed the Law of the Constitution, by isolating the main principles of
the constitutionthe sovereignty of Parliament, the rule of law and the
dependence of conventions upon the law. In their book, Some Problems of
the Constitution, Marshall and Moodie suggested a fourth principle, that of
ministerial responsibility. The Constitutional Reform Act 2005 reiterates the
principle of the rule of law and stresses the importance of judicial independence,
which might perhaps be regarded as a fifth principle of the constitution.9
There would, however, be considerable difficulties in building an enacted
constitution around these principles. For they are very general in nature and
may easily conflict with each other. Indeed, Marshall and Moodie suggested
that much of the constitutional history of Britain in the 20th century might
be represented as a conflict between the principle of ministerial responsibility
and the principles of the sovereignty of Parliament and the rule of law.10
7 Should Britain have a Written Constitution, The Political Quarterly, (2007) 78, pp.499517.
8 See, for the distinction between a peoples constitution and a lawyers constitution, The
Political Quarterly, (2007) 78, pp.503505.
9 In Canada, the Supreme Court has in recent years held that the constitution implies certain
unwritten constitutional principles, e.g. judicial independence, and has begun to enforce them as if
they were explicit. See Peter W. Hogg, Constitutional Law of Canada, 5th edn (Scarborough, Ontario:
Thomson/Carswell, 2006), pp.15, 52.
10 Geoffrey Marshall and Graeme C. Moodie, Some Problems of the Constitution, 5th edn (Hutchinson,
1971), p.11.
11 K.C. Wheare, Modern Constitutions, 2nd edn (Oxford University Press, 1966), p.34.
12 Wheare, Modern Constitutions, p.6.
proportional representation. This article, like the rest of the Constitution, can
only be amended by referendum. In post-war Ireland, Fianna Fail governments
have twice, in 1959 and 1968, sought to alter the electoral system, but were
repudiated in referendums on both occasions. By contrast with Ireland, the
French 5th Republic Constitution of 1958 is silent on the electoral system, and
this has enabled the government to alter it by ordinary legislation. Before the
1986 parliamentary elections, President Mitterrand substituted proportional
representation for the two ballot system, with the aim of weakening the
parties of the Right, who stood to gain a large majority from the two ballot
system. The elections were, nevertheless, won by the Right which, under the
Prime Minister, Jacques Chirac, restored the two ballot system in time for the
legislative elections of 1988.
Of course, these differences between the constitutions of different
democracies reflect differences in historical experience, and yet they show
that, beyond a basic minimum core, there is often no clear boundary between
what is constitutional and what is not. Ought a British constitution to regulate
the role of the political partiesshould it include the main features of the
Political Parties, Elections and Referendums Act 2000; should the parties be
required to be democratic in their organisation, should they be required to
be open and accountable in their financial arrangements? Should the electoral
system be included in the constitutionand, if so, should it be just the
electoral system for Westminster, or also the various electoral systems used for
the devolved bodies and for local authorities? But the question of the right
electoral system, whether for Westminster, or for local authorities is now very
much a matter of political contention. It is possible that they will be altered
in the years to comelocal authorities in Scotland have recently switched
from first past the post to the single transferable vote method of proportional
legislation, and there is some pressure in Wales for Welsh local authorities
to be elected by that method. Moreover, it is not inconceivable that the
electoral system for the Commons itself will be changed in the foreseeable
future.
The issue of the electoral system raises a further problem. Tony Blair
promised that there would be no change in the electoral system for the House
of Commons without a referendum; and in a recent research paper, the House
of Commons Library claims that there is a constitutional convention that
changes to the electoral system should be agreed as far as possible on an all-party
basis. It then goes on to declare in the next sentence, somewhat confusingly,
that [t]his convention is not universally observed.14 Should this supposed
convention be put into the constitution? Should the constitution enact that
a change in the electoral system for the Commons requires a referendum?
Clearly, a statute altering the electoral system which was not put to the people
would not be invalidated by the courts. But, some might argue that there is
now fairly widespread agreement amongst the political class that a change in
the electoral system for the Commons should require a referendum so as to
14 House of Commons Library: Standard Note: Speakers Conference, SN/PC/4426, September 12,
2007, p.1.
The example of the electoral system shows that the enactment of a British
constitution would raise a number of very difficult and inter-related problems.
There is first the difficulty of distinguishing between the constitution as it is and
as we might think it ought to be; then there is the question of identifying what
the constitution in fact is, since much of it is composed of conventions whose
content and scope is at times unclear. Finally, there is the question of who is
to have the authority to identify what the constitution isshould there be a
Royal Commission or a specially convened constitutional conventionand, if
the latter, should it be appointed or electedor could the task be entrusted to
a parliamentary body?
The Institute for Public Policy Research draft constitution did not pretend to
be a codification of Britains current arrangements, but a reformed constitution
outlining what its authors regarded as desirable political arrangements. By
contrast, the constitution drawn up by the students in our Oxford seminar and
published by the Smith Institute and the Political Quarterly was intended to be
a codification of current arrangements. We sought to avoid political debate on
the right electoral system for the House of Commons, the future of the House
of Lords, etc. Ministers, when they argue that there is a case for a constitution
are also, presumably, proposing a consolidation of current arrangements, rather
than a wholly reformed system of government.
But the distinction between what the constitution is and what it ought
to be is by no means as clear as may appear at first sight. The problem is
essentially that of deciding whether the constitution should enact the strictly
legal position, a bare framework, compounded of statute law and the royal
prerogative and presiding with a supposititious dignity over the real world of
flesh and blood, a solution which de Smith characterised as one of voluntary
schizophrenia15 ; or whether, by contrast, it should spell out in detail actual
constitutional practice, which would mean taking into account the conventions
of the constitution. For the fundamental reason why it is not as easy as it may
seem at first sight to distinguish between what the rules are and what they
ought to be, is that the rules in many cases are based on conventions, and not
on statute or judicial precedent. In a country such as the United States, with
a codified constitution, when it is alleged that some action is unconstitutional,
what is meant is that the action is contrary to the constitution. In Britain,
15 S.A. de Smith, The New Commonwealth and its Constitutions (Stevens, 1964), p.78. Ch.3 of this
book provides an excellent account of the arguments for and against incorporating conventions into
the constitution.
16 E.C.S. Wade, Introduction to the 10th edn of Diceys Law of the Constitution, p.clv.
17 (1982) 125 D.L.R. (3d.) 1. See Hogg, Constitutional Law of Canada, pp.126. The Supreme Court
decided by a majority vote that the practice amounted to a convention but was not legally binding.
Convention recognizes and declares that the following principles and practices
shall be observed as conventions in Australia.18
Such an exercise requires us first to distinguish conventional rules from
mere generalisations concerning political behaviour. It is, for example, the
case that, although Bills can be introduced into Parliament by any member
of the House of Commons or Lords, in practice, they have little chance of
reaching the statute book unless they are introduced or supported by ministers.
That, however, is not a convention since it is not a normative statement,
but a generalisation about the working of Parliament, and it would clearly
be inappropriate to put it into a constitution. Nor would it be satisfactory to
follow Wheare and define a convention simply as a rule of behaviour accepted
as obligatory by those concerned in the working of the constitution.19 For
political actors can easily be mistaken about what is obligatory. In 1955, for
example, when Sir Anthony Eden, as Prime Minister, wished to appoint Lord
Salisbury as Foreign Secretary, he was deterred by the supposed convention
that the Foreign Secretary must be in the House of Commons.20 In 1960,
however, Harold Macmillan succeeded in appointing as Foreign Secretary
from the Lords, Lord Home, and Margaret Thatcher followed this precedent
in 1979 when she appointed Lord Carrington. Therefore, what Sir Anthony
Eden and others in political circles regarded as a convention turned out not to
be a convention at all. If conventions are, as one authority has suggested, part
of the critical morality21 of the constitution, then discovering what they are
cannot be an investigation of a historical or sociological kind, but inevitably
raises normative issues.
There is a need, therefore, to distinguish, as the Supreme Court in Canada
did, between a convention and a mere usage. But, once conventions have been
identified, we need to consider the extent to which they should be embodied
in the constitution. It would surely be mistaken to say nothing more about the
legislative role of the head of state than that the Queen-in-Parliament enacts
law. For this would imply that the Queen is a real part of the legislative process.
It would appear more sensible to state that the Sovereign normally assents to
legislation presented by the government, although some disagreement may
arise when it comes to specifying the precise circumstances under which the
Sovereign need not assent to legislation. Would George V, for example, have
been acting constitutionally had he refused to assent to the Government of
Ireland Bill of 1914 providing for a Home Rule parliament for Ireland? He
certainly thought that he would have been, and constitutional authorities of
18 Details of the conventions can be found in the appendices to the article by Charles Sampford
and D. Wood, Codification of Constitutional Conventions in Australia [1987] P.L. 239240. See
also C. Sampford, Recognise and Declare. An Australian Experiment in Certifying Constitutional
Conventions (1987) 7 O.J.L.S. 369417; and H.V. Evatt, The King and His Dominion Governors
(Oxford University Press, 1936).
19 Wheare, Modern Constitutions, p.122.
20 The Earl of Avon, (Sir Anthony Eden), Full Circle (Cassell, 1960), p.274.
21 Geoffrey Marshall, Constitutional Conventions (Oxford University Press, 1984), p.210. This book
offers a penetrating analysis of problems arising from the existence of constitutional conventions in the
United Kingdom.
the stature of Dicey and Anson agreed with him. Indeed, Anson, author of
the standard work, The Law and Custom of the Constitution, wrote to The
Times in September 1913 justifying the use of the royal veto.22 It might,
nevertheless, be agreed that a provision that the Sovereign normally assents to
the legislation should be inserted into the constitution. Other matters relating
to the powers of the head of state might be more difficult to resolve: under
what circumstances, for example, is the Queen entitled to refuse a request for a
dissolutionan issue which could assume considerable significance in the case
of a hung parliament, even more so were a proportional system to be adopted
for elections to the Commons in which case almost every parliament would
probably be hung.
What about conventions in other areas? It would, declares Jennings, be a
singular constitutional law which mentions the Cabinet because it is referred to
in the Ministers of the Crown Act, 1937, but cannot say what it does . . . It is a
constitutional law which says very little about the constitution.23 Should the
constitution enact the Sewel convention, that Parliament does not normally
legislate with regard to devolved matters in Scotland without the consent of
the Scottish Parliament?24 Should the precise powers of the House of Lords
be specified? What are these powers? In law, the answer is clear. The Lords
have powers only over non-money Bills, which they can delay for just one
session, and over a Bill to prolong the life of Parliament on which they retain
an absolute veto. They also have absolute power to reject secondary legislation,
since the Parliament Acts apply only to primary legislation, secondary legislation
being minimal at the time of the 1911 Parliament Act. Few, however, would
accept as a sensible statement of the constitutional position that the Lords enjoy
an absolute power to reject secondary legislation. For the powers of the House
of Lords are limited not only by statute but by convention.
The Salisbury convention, formulated as a compact between the
Conservative and Labour parties in 1945, the first occasion since the 1911
Parliament Act when the then Conservative-dominated House of Lords faced
a majority government of the left, provides that the Lords does not oppose
measures included in the governing partys manifesto on second or third
reading.25 By convention, also, the Lords do not normally reject secondary
legislation. Thus, it may seem that, just as the section on the head of state
should include the conventional rule that the Queen does not normally reject
legislation presented to her by her government, the section on the House of
Lords should also include the conventional rules as well as the legal rules.
It would, however, be difficult to enact the Salisbury convention in a
constitution for two reasons. The first is that its provisions are bound to be
highly flexible and therefore unenforceable. That indeed was the conclusion
22 See Vernon Bogdanor, The Monarchy and the Constitution (Oxford University Press, 1995),
pp.122135. Ansons letter is reprinted in I. Jennings, Cabinet Government, 3rd edn (Cambridge
University Press, 1959), p.541.
23 I. Jennings, The Law and the Constitution, 5th edn (University of London Press, 1959), pp.7071.
24 Hansard, HL Vol.592, col.791 (July 21, 1998).
25 Royal Commission on Reform of the House of Lords, A House for the Future, 2000, Cm. 4534,
para.4.21.
The government, by contrast, argues that the Salisbury convention should still
be observed. For the rationale of the Salisbury convention, in its view, lies
in the House of Lords being non-elected, not merely in its being a chamber
permanently dominated by one party.
It is therefore not always clear whether there is a convention in a particular
area nor what obligations it entails. One example, which greatly exercised
the students in our Oxford seminar, was whether the vote in the House of
Commons on March 18, 2003 before the Iraq war created a convention so
that in future a government would be acting unconstitutionally if it sought to
deploy troops without a parliamentary vote. During the debate before the vote,
Jack Straw, the Foreign Secretary, had declared that it was constitutionally
proper in a modern democracy for the government to seek explicit support
of the House of Commons for military action.32 The students, after some
discussion, suggested that a convention had been created by this one precedent,
and that this convention ought to be embodied in the constitution.
Perhaps the safest course to follow when it is unclear whether a convention
exists or what its scope might be is to enact, by contrast with the section on
the head of state, only the legal rule, leaving the precise specification of the
convention to be fought over by the politicians. But this might not be wholly
satisfactory. For, in the case of the House of Lords, if only the legal rule were
enacted, this might seem to legitimise the arguments of those who, like Lord
McNally, believe that the Lords should no longer be bound by the Salisbury
convention. That would allow the Lords, acting within its legal powers, to
render the last year of a governments life a nullity from the legislative point
of view. Moreover, a constitution which failed to contain the convention that
the Lords do not normally reject subordinate legislation could legitimise this
weapon too, and that would be an even more serious incursion upon the
prerogatives of the government of the day. Yet, were the non-elected Lords
to persist in rejecting government legislation, they would almost certainly be
accused of acting unconstitutionally. It would hardly be satisfactory to reply
by referring to a document which contained merely the legal rule. If the
conventions relating to the Lords were to be excluded, an enacted constitution
would do little to clarify the precise role of the upper house.
Conventions, therefore, may be very general and their proper interpretation
is by no means always obvious. It may be objected that the same is often true
of statutory rules; these, however, can be interpreted by the courts. There is,
by contrast with the Canadian experience, no similar umpire in the case of
conventions in the United Kingdom. Where the interpretation of a convention
is unclear, its resolution tends to depend upon political developments rather
than the judgment of the courts. Use of the personal prerogatives by the head
of state, for example, has been greatly limited by the development of a two
party system, which has meant that the Queen has not been called upon to
use her discretion as to who to appoint as Prime Minister nor whether to
accept a prime ministerial request for a dissolution. The answer, when there
are only two parties, is generally obvious. But this could change in the case
of a hung parliament where the answers would no longer be obvious; while,
if the Commons came to be elected by proportional representation, every
parliament would probably be hung since no government has achieved 50
per cent of the vote since 1935. This could significantly alter the role of the
Queen.33
An enacted constitution which codifies conventions might seem to entail
a considerable juridification of constitutional arrangements. What in the past
was essentially political might now become a question of constitutional law.
It would in theory be for the courts to decide how conventions should be
interpreted. They would no longer be dependent upon political vicissitudes, but
might become justiciable. But this raises very large problems. Could the courts
really decide, for example, what the principle of ministerial responsibility
entails? Would this involve them laying down precise rules as to what
information ministers ought to disclose to Parliament, and the circumstances
under which ministers ought to resign following administrative fault? If so,
the courts would come to play a far more central role in the political process
than they have ever performed hitherto. The courts, however, faced with
such questions, would almost certainly resist being brought into the political
process, and would probably adopt the political questions doctrine that the
US Supreme Court has often, though not invariably, adopted when faced with
issues relating to the doctrine of the separation of powers. The German courts
too have adopted a broadly similar doctrine of judicial restraint.
Conventions, however, may be of very different types. Some may be quite
fundamental, for example, the convention that the government must resign
following defeat in a confidence motion in the House of Commons; the
interpretation of other conventions, for example the convention of individual
ministerial responsibility, although perhaps equally fundamental, may evolve
over time and their interpretation may be more opaque; other conventions,
for example, the convention that members of the royal family do not make
speeches which have party political implications, may be less fundamental and
indicate what is merely inadvisable.34
In a paper submitted to the Australian Constitutional Convention, Cheryl
Saunders and Ewart Smith also distinguished between conventions of different
kinds:
Some conventions might appropriately be included in a written
constitution, subject to enforcement in the courts; others might be
included in the constitution as non-justiciable declarations of principle;
others might be articulated outside the constitution by way of an informal
agreement on the content of which is understood. 35
33 See Vernon Bogdanor, Multi-Party Politics and the Constitution (Cambridge University Press, 1983).
34
Andrew Heard in Canadian Constitutional Conventions: The Marriage of Law and Politics (Toronto:
Oxford University Press, 1991), p.141, draws a threefold distinction of this kind between conventions.
35 Identifying Conventions Associated with the Commonwealth Constitution, Australian
Constitutional Convention, Standing Committee D, vol.2, 1982, p.1, cited in Heard, Canadian
Constitutional Conventions: The Marriage of Law and Politics, p.151.
36 See, on this point, Graeme C. Moodie, The Monarch and the Selection of a Prime Minister: A
no more and no less than what happens.37 Under our peculiar uncodified
system, it will often be the case that where conventions are concerned,
the limits of the constitution tend to coincide with the limits of political
power. Living as we do during a period of some constitutional ferment,
it has become particularly difficult to predict the outcome of what is an
essentially political struggle, and difficult, therefore, to discover a satisfactory
solution to the problem of enacting, for example, the powers of the Lords in
a constitution.
derived from H.L.A. Hart, The Concept of Law (Clarendon Press, 1961).
40 Sir Menzies Campbell, A Rescue Plan for Politics, Guardian, September 6, 2007.
41 See Vernon Bogdanor, Devolution in the United Kingdom (Oxford University Press, 1999),
pp.196198 and Kenyon Wright, The People Say Yes: The Making of Scotlands Parliament (Argyll
Publishing, 1997). Rev. Kenyon Wright was Chair of the Convention.
42 Cmnd.5460, 1973.
43 Compare O. Hood Phillips, Reform of the Constitution (Chatto and Windus/Charles Knight, 1970),
p.156.
Lords enjoy over a Bill prolonging the life of a parliament, for this arguably
provides a precedent for other legislation enjoying a special constitutional
status.
The students also decided that there should be three further restrictions on
the sovereignty of Parliament. The first was that the courts do not give effect
to any rule of law which is incompatible with directly effective European law.
The second was that a referendum would be required before the establishment
of a directly elected devolved body enjoying legislative or executive power;
the third was that any constitutional amendment seeking to amend or repeal
this particular provision would itself require a referendum before coming into
effect. The first two restrictions reflect, it may be argued, current arrangements,
while the third is needed in order to give teeth to the second restriction.
Of course, if the principle of the sovereignty of Parliament is taken seriously,
there seems little point in enacting a constitution. For, if Parliament is sovereign,
the British constitution can be summarised in just eight wordswhat the
Queen in Parliament enacts is law. Yet the prime purpose of enacting a
constitution is to provide for some form of higher law, provisions which
would be more difficult to alter than those of the ordinary law. A constitution,
therefore, would register and give legal effect to the proposition that Parliament
has abdicated its sovereignty.44 In The Law of the Constitution, Dicey dismisses
the:
. . . strange dogma . . . that a sovereign power, such as the Parliament of
the United Kingdom, can never by its own act divest itself of sovereignty.
. . . To argue or imply that because sovereignty is not limitable (which
is true), it cannot be surrendered (which is palpably untrue), involves the
confusion of two distinct ideas. It is like arguing that because no man can,
while he lives, give up, do what he will, his freedom of volition, so no
man can commit suicide.
The sovereign, Dicey suggests, can divest itself of authority by permanently
transferring part of its authority to another person or body. If, for example,
the 1706 Acts of Union, passed by the English and Scottish Parliaments, had
kept alive the Parliaments of England and Scotland solely for the purpose
of modifying when necessary these Acts, and had conferred upon the new
Parliament of Great Britain, created by the Acts, authority to pass any law
whatever except one modifying, infringing or repealing the Acts of Union,
then the Acts would have been fundamental law unchallengeable legally by
the new Parliament of Great Britain.45
Perhaps interest in enacting a constitution has arisen precisely because it has
come to be believed by some that Parliament may no longer be sovereign;
or, to put the point another way, parliamentary sovereignty no longer seems
44
We owe this point to Professor Anthony Bradley. But he is not responsible for the use that we
have made of it.
45 Dicey, Law of the Constitution, pp.6566. We have modified Diceys wording slightly, since Dicey
writes of the Act of Union, as if the Union had been secured merely by an Act of the English Parliament,
rather than requiring the assent of both the English and the Scottish Parliaments.
to entail that power over all persons, matters and things, which s.75 of the
Government of Ireland Act 1920a declaratory clauseclaimed (wrongly,
one may suspect) Westminster would continue to enjoy over Northern Ireland
following the establishment of a Home Rule parliament in the province.46
But the prime reason why it is sometimes suggested that Parliament is no
longer sovereign is of course the European Communities Act 1972. That Act,
according to one authority:
. . . allotted, or purported to allot, a special status to community law
within the United Kingdom, and more especially since the decision in
the Factortame case, in which an Act of Parliament was for the first time
disapplied as being in conflict with Community law, some difference
of opinion has existed as to whether the British judiciary has acquiesced
in a legal revolution, abandoning a crucial element in the doctrine of
parliamentary sovereignty.47
The Human Rights Act 1998 and the legislation providing for devolution in
the non-English parts of the United Kingdom do not, by contrast with the
European Communities Act, offer any such formal challenge to the principle
of parliamentary sovereignty. Nevertheless, while preserving parliamentary
sovereignty in form, it may be argued that they have the effect of limiting its
scope in practice. What cannot be doubted is that there is far less confidence
in the applicability and relevance of the principle of parliamentary sovereignty
at the present time than when Dicey wrote, and a debate has begun as to
whether there should be a British Bill of Rights.48 It is because parliamentary
sovereignty is no longer an unchallenged doctrine of the constitution that a
codified constitution has become possible; and it is because there is scepticism
concerning the value of the doctrine that voices have been heard calling
for an enacted constitution. An enacted constitution would, however, have
to confront at the outset the problem of whether or not the European
Communities Act has limited the sovereignty of Parliament, and whether the
practical limitation of sovereignty by the Human Rights Act and the devolution
legislation should be registered in the constitution. An enacted constitution
would have to confront squarely the doctrine of the sovereignty of Parliament.
Conclusion
P.L. 701719. See also the Justice report, A British Bill of Rights: Informing the Debate, 2007.
Public-Private Intersection:
Comparing Fiduciary Conflict
Doctrine and Bias
Matthew Conaglen*
University Lecturer in Law, University of Cambridge
* Fellow in Law, Trinity Hall, Cambridge. I am grateful, with the normal disclaimers, to Colin
Campbell, Angus Johnston, Richard Nolan, Mike Taggart, Rebecca Williams and an anonymous
referee for helpful comments on a draft of this article.
1 P.D. Finn, Fiduciary Obligations (Sydney: Law Book Co, 1977), para.6. See too K.W. Wedderburn,
Trust, Corporation and the Worker (1985) 23 Osgoode Hall Law Journal 203 at p.221.
2 D. Oliver, Review of (Non-Statutory) Discretions in C.F. Forsyth, ed., Judicial Review and
the Constitution (Oxford: Hart, 2000) p.307, at p.312; see also D. Oliver, Common Values and the
Public-Private Divide (London: Butterworths, 1999), p.194.
3 Equitable Life Assurance Society v Hyman [2002] 1 A.C. 408 at [17].
4 Byng v London Life Association Ltd [1990] Ch. 170 at 189; Harris v Lord Shuttleworth [1994] I.C.R.
991 at 999; Wild v Smith [1996] P.L.R. 275 at [23][24]; Scott v National Trust for Places of Historic Interest
or National Beauty [1998] 2 All E.R. 705 at 715716, 718; Edge v Pensions Ombudsman [2000] Ch. 602
elsewhere,5 contain similar dicta comparing the public and private law regimes
that control the exercise of discretionary powers.
To date, these observations have been made at a high level of abstraction.
Mindful of this, some judges have warned of the need for caution with the
analogy. As Lord Woolf put it, one must be cautious and not draw false
analogies.6 In Abacus Trust v Barr, Lightman J. mentioned the analogy but
noted that there are critical differences between public, or administrative, law
and private law proceedings.7 Some academic commentators have argued
even more forcefully against the analogy. David Hayton, in particular, has
argued that the analogy can be harmful, in that it has the potential to draw
trust law in directions which are undesirable.8
The analogy is an expansive project, seeking to identify similarities between
private law and public law modalities for the control of discretionary power.
One can pursue that agenda on several distinct but inter-related levels of
discourse. First, one can consider a large number of doctrines at a very abstract
level and seek to identify similarities and differences between those doctrines
in general terms. Secondly, one can take individual doctrines from public law
and private law which appear similar in general terms, and conduct a far more
detailed analysis to determine the extent to which those apparent similarities
(at the abstract level) are in fact present in the detail of the doctrines. These
two levels of discourse are, of course, inter-related. Others have already made
a significant contribution to the debate regarding the analogy at the abstract
level of discourse. This article seeks to further discussion of the analogy by
pursuing the second, more detailed, level of discourse.
Within the confines of an article such as this, it is impossible to do justice
to more than one area of comparison. The area that will be addressed is the
comparison indicated in Dawn Olivers observation that the rule that a trustee
must not benefit from the trust provides a parallel with the rule against bias
in judicial review.9 Her writing did not investigate in any further detail that
comparison between bias law and fiduciary conflict doctrine. This article offers
a detailed exploration into whether these two apparently similar doctrines are
at 628630; Equitable Life Assurance Society v Hyman [2002] 1 A.C. 408 at 460. See also Lord Walkers
extra-curial comments in R. Walker, The Limits of the Principle in Re Hastings Bass [2000] P.C.B.
226 at p.227.
5 Craddock v Crowhen (1995) 1 N.Z.S.C. 40,331, 40,337; Wrightson Ltd v Fletcher Challenge Nominees
Ltd [1996] P.L.R. 317 at [102]; Minister for Immigration v Esehtu (1999) 197 C.L.R. 611 at 649; Hot
Holdings Pty Ltd v Creasy [2002] HCA 51, (2002) 210 C.L.R. 438 at [135]; Wong v Burt [2003] 3
N.Z.L.R. 526 at [18] and [27] (reversed on appeal for unrelated reasons: [2005] 1 N.Z.L.R. 91);
Collinge v Kyd [2005] 1 N.Z.L.R. 847 at [55][56], [59]; Szfde v Minister for Immigration and Citizenship
[2007] H.C.A. 35 at [12].
6 Hyman [2002] 1 A.C. 408 at [17].
7 Abacus Trust Co (Isle of Man) v Barr [2003] EWHC 114 (Ch); [2003] Ch. 409 at [29][30]; see also
Scott v National Trust [1998] 2 All E.R. 705 at 718; R. v Charity Commissioners for England and Wales Ex
p. Baldwin [2001] W.T.L.R. 137 at 150;Gailey v Gordon [2003] 2 N.Z.L.R. 192 at [88][89].
8
D.J. Hayton and C. Mitchell, Hayton & Marshalls Commentary and Cases on the Law of Trusts and
Equitable Remedies, 12th edn (London: Thomson, 2005), paras 9-242 to 9-246.
9 Oliver, Review of (Non-Statutory) Discretions, C.F. Forsyth, ed., Judicial Review and the
Constitution (Oxford: Hart, 2000) p.307 at p.310 (see also p.313); Oliver, Common Values, (1999), at
pp.193 and 196.
in fact comparable in terms of the way they reach results and the purposes they
serve. The relevance of this endeavour is that if essential differences between
the doctrines are identified in these respects, then any attempt to analogise from
one to the other would be radically misconceived. On the other hand, if the
two doctrines are found to be comparable in doctrinal terms, then it would not
be misconceived to attempt to draw analogies between them. That conclusion
can only be justified after detailed consideration of the two doctrines, and it
is that conclusion which this article seeks to defend. It is perhaps important to
emphasise that it is not being suggested that this means such analogies should be
drawn. Such an argument ought only to be advanced after further consideration
of the broader contexts in which each doctrine operates,10 and of whether
those contexts militate in favour of, or against, analogies being drawn. In par-
ticular, more empirical consideration of the types of interests and relationships
which trigger application of each doctrine would be required in order to be
confident that the doctrinal similarities were more than merely coincidental
and that the development of one or other doctrine by analogy would not lose
sight of the context within which that doctrine operates. Similarly, it would be
important to identify, if possible, why public officials and fiduciaries are being
regulated in a comparable manner. Developing a contextual comparison of
the doctrines requires a detailed empirical analysis of hundreds of cases, given
the courts consider it dangerous and futile to define or list the factors which
may or may not give rise to a real danger of bias. Everything will depend on
the facts,11 just as it does in fiduciary conflict cases.12 Such a study would
be highly beneficial but is far beyond the scope of this article. Furthermore,
detailed consideration of several (rather than merely two) doctrines governing
public officials and fiduciaries would be appropriate in order to understand on
a broader plane the similarities and differences between the public and private
law regimes. These extended studies are not possible within the confines of
this article. Its purpose is the more modest one of arguing that such further
investigation is worthwhile and not radically misconceived.
The analysis offered is, therefore, relevant to the theoretical discourse regard-
ing the boundary between public and private law. However, it also has practical
relevance. In particular, rather than merely noting similarities and differences
between public and private law as they currently exist, which appears largely
to have been Dawn Olivers concern,13 some have sought to use the suggested
analogy between the two forms of law as a justification for developing one or
Discretion: A Unified Analysis (2005) 68 M.L.R. 554 at pp.556557, 565, 586, 589, 593; Town
Investments Ltd v Department of the Environment [1978] A.C. 359 at 397; Kinloch v Secretary of State for
India in Council (1880) L.R. 15 Ch.D. 1, 8, 9, 13; Tito v Waddell (No.2) [1977] Ch. 106 at 211, 216; R.
v Secretary of State for the Environment Ex p. Kirkstall Valley Campaign Ltd [1996] 3 All E.R. 304 at 320,
321; Bathurst City Council v PWC Properties Pty Ltd [1998] H.C.A. 59; (1998) 195 C.L.R. 566 at [47],
[63].
11 Locabail (UK) Ltd v Bayfield Properties Ltd [2000] Q.B. 451 at [25].
12 Cook v Evatt (No.2) [1992] 1 N.Z.L.R. 676 at 685; Foster Bryant Surveying Ltd v Bryant [2007]
C.F. Forsyth, ed., Judicial Review and the Constitution (2000), p.307 at p.312.
other body of doctrine. For example, Robert Walker J.s suggestion in Scott
v National Trust that legitimate expectation may have some part to play in
trust law as well as in judicial review cases14 would involve an extension of
trust law principles on the basis of an analogy with public law. And in Collinge
v Kyd, Paterson J. drew analogies with bias law when determining whether
a trustees conflicting interest was sufficiently material to invoke the fiduciary
conflict principle.15 Analogical reasoning proceeds by reference to similarity
and difference,16 and it is, of course, difficult to determine which similarities
or differences are relevant or significant.17 However, analogical reasoning
focuses on particulars.18 If analogies between doctrines are to be relied upon
to develop the law, or even simply to support a particular application of one
doctrine on the basis that the application coheres with the other doctrine, those
analogies ought only to be pursued following rigorous and detailed consider-
ation of the doctrines involved, in order to determine whether the doctrines
are sufficiently similar to justify reliance on the analogy, and consideration of
the question whether the context within which each doctrine operates either
supports or weakens the case for the analogy. This article begins the process of
providing that detailed doctrinal analysis.
W. Lucy, Understanding and Explaining Adjudication (Oxford: OUP, 1999), p.376; M.D.A. Freeman,
Lloyds Introduction to Jurisprudence, 7th edn (London: Sweet & Maxwell, 2001), p.1409.
17 C. Sunstein, Analogical Reasoning (1993) 106 Harvard Law Review 741 at pp.745746; J.
White, Analogical Reasoning in D. Patterson, ed., A Companion to Philosophy of Law and Legal Theory
(Cambridge: Blackwell, 1996), p.583, at pp.584586.
18 Sunstein, Analogical Reasoning (1993) 106 Harvard Law Review 741, p.746.
19 P. Cane, Administrative Law, 4th edn (Oxford: OUP, 2004), p.133; R. v Gough [1993] A.C. 646
at 661; H.W.R. Wade and C.F. Forsyth, Administrative Law, 9th edn (Oxford: OUP, 2004), p.450.
20 Dimes v Grand Junction Canal (1852) 3 H.L.C. 759 at 793; R. v Rand (1866) L.R. 1 Q.B. 230 at
232.
21 R. v Bow Street Metropolitan Stipendiary Magistrate Ex p. Pinochet Ugarte (No.2) [2000] 1 A.C. 119 at
132133, 135, 137; Roylance v General Medical Council (No.2) [2000] 1 A.C. 311 at 318, PC.
would conclude that there was a real possibility that the tribunal was biased.22
The fiduciary conflict doctrine holds that:
[A] person in a fiduciary position, . . . is not, unless otherwise expressly
provided, entitled to make a profit; he is not allowed to put himself in a
position where his interest and his duty conflict.23
More recent decisions also make clear that a fiduciary acts in breach of the
fiduciary conflict doctrine where he or she, acts for two principals with
potentially conflicting interests without the informed consent of both.24
At a superficial level, it is relatively easy to illustrate a connection between
these two doctrines. First, the cases concerning fiduciary conflict doctrine
contain plentiful references to the problem with such conflicts being that
the fiduciary is prevented from bringing an independent and impartial
mind to the performance of his or her fiduciary office. For example, in
Guinness v Saunders, a company director was a member of a committee which
authorised the payment of a success fee to the director in respect of a takeover
bid for another company. The authorisation was invalid, as the companys
articles enabled only the board of directors (and not a mere committee) to
authorise such payments. The House of Lords rejected all of the directors
other attempts to justify the payment as the director should never have been
involved in making a decision about his own remuneration because by doing
so he debarred himself from giving impartial and independent advice25 to
the company. Similarly, in McPherson v Watt, Lord Blackburn referred to the
right of a client to receive disinterested advice from his attorney as the reason
why an attorney cannot purchase his clients property.26 In Andrews v Ramsay,
Lord Alverstone C.J. quoted a passage from Story on Agency concerning the
impermissibility of an agent acting so as to bind his principal where the agent has
an adverse personal interest, as a principal expects from his agent, disinterested
22 Porter v Magill [2001] UKHL 67; [2002] 2 A.C. 357 at [103]; see also Lawal v Northern Spirit Ltd
[2003] UKHL 35; [2004] 1 All E.R. 187 at [2]; R. (on the application of Al-Hasan) v Secretary of State for
the Home Department [2005] UKHL 13; [2005] 1 W.L.R. 688 at [30]; Gillies v Secretary of State for Work
and Pensions [2006] UKHL 2; [2006] 1 W.L.R. 781 at [3], [38]; R. (on the application of Paul) v Deputy
Coroner of the Queens Household [2007] EWHC 408 (Admin); [2007] 2 All E.R. 509 at [65]. This is
a modest adjustment of the test proposed by Lord Goff of Chieveley inGough, [1993] A.C. 646 at
668, which in turn was based upon Blackburn J.s observations in R. v Rand (1866) L.R. 1 Q.B. 230
at 232233. Arguably, lower courts may have tended back towards Gough in their application of the
bias rule since Porter v Magill (S. Attrill, Who is the Fair-Minded and Informed Observer? Bias after
Magill [2003] C.L.J. 279 at pp.280281; M. Taggart, Administrative Law [2003] New Zealand Law
Review 99 at p.100; cf. Davidson v Scottish Ministers [2004] UKHL 34; (2005) 1 S.C. (HL) 7 at [8], [56]),
but this does not affect the analysis offered herethe importance of the adjustment made in Porter v
Magill was not to alter the threshold for disqualifying bias but rather to emphasise that public perception
of the possibility of unconscious bias is the key: Lawal v Northern Spirit, above, at [14] (emphasis
added); see also Webb v R. (1994) 181 C.L.R. 41 at 5152; P.P. Craig, Administrative Law, 5th edn
(London: Thomson, 2003), p.462; Taggart, [2003] New Zealand Law Review 99 at p.100.
23 Bray v Ford [1896] A.C. 44 at 51.
24 Bristol & West Building Society v Mothew [1998] Ch. 1 at 18; see also Beach Petroleum NL v Abbott
skill, diligence, and zeal [and] impartiality.27 And in Cook v Evatt, Fisher
J. referred to the task of investment advisers, who conceded that they owed
fiduciary duties to their client,28 as being to find a property for the plaintiff
in an impartial manner.29 The connection between bias law and these
descriptions of fiduciary conflict doctrine is apparent when one bears in mind
that bias law is underpinned by the concepts of impartiality and independence:
Bias, whether actual or apprehended, connotes the absence of impartiality.30
Indeed, the connection is even more clearly apparent in the several fiduciary
conflicts cases which refer directly to bias as a motivating concern underlying
fiduciary conflict doctrine. For example, in Parker v McKenna, Lord Cairns
L.C. criticised directors of a company who bought newly issued shares in the
company from the underwriter of the issue on the basis that their purchase of the
shares then made it utterly impossible for [them] to exercise an independent
and unbiassed judgment31 with respect to the relaxation of the terms on
which the shares were issued. In Guinness v Saunders, which has already been
mentioned, Lord Templeman also referred to the directors conduct as bringing
about a situation where his advice to the company was suspect and biased.32
In Movitex v Bulfield, Vinelott J. described the fiduciary conflict principle as
entitling a company to the benefit of the unbiased judgment33 of every one
of its directors. And, in Pilmer v Duke Group, Kirby J.s dissenting judgment
referred to the plaintiff companys dependence on its advisers independent
judgment and its vulnerability to the advisers biased opinion as relevant
considerations in determining whether the fiduciary conflict doctrine was
applicable.34
Secondly, comments made in the context of bias law indicate that conflicting
interests are part of its motivating concern. For example, in Ebner v Official
Trustee, a majority of the High Court of Australia referred to financial
conflicts of interest35 and economic conflicts of interest36 as being of
particular significance in identifying impermissible bias.
Thirdly, the connection between fiduciary conflict doctrine and bias law is
reinforced by Megarry J.s decision in Spector v Ageda.37 Discussing the problems
which arise where a fiduciary, such as a solicitor, is personally involved in a
transaction with his client, Megarry J. observed that:
However, if the analogy between fiduciary conflict doctrine and bias law is
to be understood properly, and to be assessed, one cannot simply halt the
analysis at the point where some degree of similarity or cross-fertilisation
appears. Lord Woolf41 and Dawn Oliver42 both opine that the similarities
between the doctrines are explained by the involvement of Lord Greene
M.R., a distinguished Chancery lawyer, in the development of administrative
law, particularly in his decision in Wednesbury.43 While Lord Greenes
pedigree as a Chancery lawyer is undoubted,44 it is not clear that Lord
673; H. Woolf, J. Jowell and A.P. Le Sueur, de Smith, Woolf & Jowells Principles of Judicial Review
(London, Thomson, 1999), para.11-006.
41
Hyman [2002] 1 A.C. 408 at [20].
42 Oliver, Common Values, (1999) at p.192; Oliver, Review of (Non-Statutory) Discretions in
C.F. Forsyth, ed., Judicial Review and the Constitution (2000) at p.311.
43 Associated Provincial Picture Houses Ltd v Wednesbury Corp [1948] 1 K.B. 223.
44 Wilfred Greene had an extensive Chancery practice from 1908 until 1935, interrupted only by
military service during the Great War between 1914 and 1918. He took Silk in 1922 and was appointed
Methodologies
There are a number of areas in which the methodologies applied within
fiduciary conflict doctrine and within bias law exhibit considerable similarities.
First, both doctrines are acutely aware of the difficulties of proving the effects
of bias and conflicts respectively, and their methodologies respond to those
difficulties. In the bias context, for example, it is unnecessary to prove actual
bias on the part of the decision-maker,48 and cases involving its proof are
exceedingly rare:
. . . [T]he concept [of bias] requires not only that the tribunal must be
truly independent and free from actual bias, proof of which is likely to
be very difficult, but also that it must not appear in the objective sense to
lack these essential qualities.49
directly to the Court of Appeal in 1935. He was made Master of the Rolls in 1937, a baron in 1941
(remaining Master of the Rolls) and a Lord of Appeal in Ordinary in 1949.
45 J. Barratt, Public Trusts (2006) 69 M.L.R. 514.
46
Keech v Sandford (1726) Sel. Cas. t. King 61.
47 J. Getzler, Rumford Market and the Genesis of Fiduciary Obligations in A. Burrows and A.
Inner West London Coroner Ex p. Dallaglio [1994] 4 All E.R. 139 at 162; Locabail [2000] Q.B. 451 at [3].
Steadman-Byrne v Amjad [2007] EWCA Civ 625; [2007] 1 W.L.R. 2484; Howell v Lees Millais [2007]
EWCA Civ 720; (2007) 104(29) L.S.G. 24.
53 Locabail [2000] Q.B. 451 at [89]; Al-Hasan [2005] UKHL 13; [2005] 1 W.L.R. 688;Ezsias v North
Glamorgan NHS Trust [2007] EWCA Civ 330; [2007] I.R.L.R. 603.
54 AWG Group Ltd v Morrison [2006] EWCA Civ 6; [2006] 1 W.L.R. 1163; R. v Pintori [2007]
EWCA Crim 1700; (2007) 151 S.J.L.B. 984, and see Grant v Teachers Appeals Tribunal [2006] UKPC
59, where the connection was insufficiently close to disqualify the judge.
55 Howell v Lees Millais [2007] EWCA Civ 720; (2007) 104(29) L.S.G. 24.
56 Galligan, Due Process and Fair Procedures, p.445; see also M. Fordham, Judicial Review Handbook, 4th
edn (Oxford: Hart, 2004), para.61.2; Locabail [2000] Q.B. 451 at [3].
57 R. v Justices of Hertfordshire (1845) 6 Q.B. 753 at 757; Galligan, Due Process and Fair Procedures,
pp.72, 73.
58 Roylance [2000] 1 A.C. 311 at 318 (emphasis added); see also Gough [1993] A.C. 646 at 659, 672.
An allegation of bias based on an interest in the proceedings is conceptually linked with an allegation
of bias based on the appearance of prejudice in that both indicate a lack of impartiality. An interest
in the outcome of the case or an indication of prejudice against a party to the case or his associates
will, of course, be a ground for concluding that there was a real possibility that the tribunal or one of
its members was biased: Davidson [2004] UKHL 34; (2005) 1 S.C. (HL) 7 at [47]. In Australia, the
conceptual link has been taken to its logical conclusion, that the real possibility of bias test will suffice
on its own to identify all relevant cases of bias without needing a separate rule which automatically
disqualifies a decision-maker for interest-based bias: see Ebner v Official Trustee [2000] H.C.A. 63; (2000)
205 C.L.R. 337 at [33][37] and [54][55]; and Hot Holdings [2002] HCA 51, (2002) 210 C.L.R. 438
at [69]. England currently retains the automatic disqualification rule (see Gough [1993] A.C. 646 at 661;
Pinochet [2000] 1 A.C. 119 at 132133, 137, 140141; Roylance [2000] 1 A.C. 311 at 318), but even
that apparently absolute rule can be departed from provided the potential effect of any decision on the
judges personal interest is so small as to be incapable of affecting his decision one way or the other:
Locabail [2000] Q.B. 451 at [10]. For further indications of the conceptual link between interest-based
bias and the reasonable apprehension of bias, see Meadowvale Stud Farm Ltd v Stratford CC [1979] 1
N.Z.L.R. 342 at 348; Webb (1994) 181 C.L.R. 41 at 7475; Ebner v Official Trustee in Bankruptcy [1999]
FCA 110; (1999) 91 F.C.R. 353 at [37]; Clenae Pty Ltd v Australia & New Zealand Banking Group Ltd
[1999] VSCA 35; [1999] 2 V.R. 573 at [3], [31]; A.A. Olowofoyeku, The Nemo Judex Rule: The
Case Against Automatic Disqualification [2000] P.L. 456 at p.473; M. Allars, Citizenship Theory
and the Public Confidence Rationale for the Bias Rule (2001) 18 Law in Context 12 at p.30.
59 Hayton & Marshall, para.6-24; see also Pilmer [2001] HCA 31; (2001) 207 C.L.R. 165 at [153];
Maguire v Makaronis (1997) 188 C.L.R. 449 at 492; Ebner [2000] H.C.A. 63; (2000) 205 C.L.R. 337
at [159]; V. Brudney, Contract and Fiduciary Duty in Corporate Law (1997) 38 Boston College Law
Review 595 at p.603; J. Berryman, Equitable Compensation for Breach by Fact-Based Fiduciaries:
Tentative Thoughts on Clarifying Remedial Goals (1999) 37 Alberta Law Review 95 at pp.98, 107.
60 (1726) Sel. Cas. t. King 61.
61 Ex p. Lacey (1802) 6 Ves. 625 at 630; Ex p. James (1803) 8 Ves. 337 at 345, 348; Hamilton v Wright
(1842) 9 Cl. & Fin. 111 at 124, HL; Aberdeen Railway Co v Blaikie Bros (1854) 1 Macq. 461 at 475, HL;
De Bussche v Alt (1878) 8 Ch.D. 286 at 316; Boston Deep Sea Fishing & Ice Co v Ansell (1888) 39 Ch.D.
339 at 369; Bray [1896] A.C. 44 at 48, 52; Collinge [2005] 1 N.Z.L.R. 847 at [61].
62
James (1803) 8 Ves. 337 at 349; Hamilton (1842) 9 Cl. & Fin. 111 at 123; Re Bloyes Trusts (1849)
1 Mac. & G. 488 at 491492; Aberdeen Railway (1854) 1 Macq. 461 at 472; Parker (1874) L.R. 10
Ch.App. 96 at 124125; De Bussche (1878) 8 Ch.D. 286 at 316; Wright v Morgan [1926] A.C. 788 at
798, PC; Regal (Hastings) Ltd v Gulliver [1967] 2 A.C. 134 at 153; Boardman v Phipps [1967] 2 A.C. 46
at 129; Canadian Aero Service Ltd v OMalley [1974] S.C.R. 592 at 608610; Swain v Law Society [1982]
1 W.L.R. 17 at 29.
63 Hayton & Marshall, para.6-24; R. Flannigan, The Strict Character of Fiduciary Liability [2006]
65 Lacey (1802) 6 Ves. 625 at 627; see also Bennett (1805) 10 Ves. 381 at 385386.
66
James (1803) 8 Ves. 337 at 348349.
67 Porter [2001] UKHL 67; [2002] 2 A.C. 357 at [103]; Lawal [2003] UKHL 35; [2004] 1 All E.R.
Phipps on the facts but not on the law: Queensland Mines Ltd v Hudson (1978) 18 A.L.R. 1 at 3,
PC. His description of the fiduciary conflict principle is generally regarded as an accurate statement of
the doctrine: Industrial Development Consultants Ltd v Cooley [1972] 1 W.L.R. 442 at 450451; Swain
[1982] 1 W.L.R. 17 at 31; Beach Petroleum [1999] NSWCA 408; (1999) 48 N.S.W.L.R. 1 at [425];
Bhullar v Bhullar [2003] EWCA Civ 424; [2003] 2 B.C.L.C. 241 at [30], [42]; Quarter Master UK Ltd
v Pyke [2004] EWHC 1815 (Ch); [2005] 1 B.C.L.C. 245 at [55]; Foster Bryant [2007] EWCA Civ
200, [2007] Bus. L.R. 1565 at [52]; R.P. Meagher, J.D. Heydon and M.J. Leeming, Meagher, Gummow
and Lehanes Equity: Doctrines and Remedies, 4th edn (Chatswood: Butterworths, 2002), para.5-065; J.A.
McGhee (ed.), Snells Equity, 31st edn (London: Thomson, 2005), para.7-25; P. Pettit, Equity and the
Law of Trusts, 10th edn (Oxford: OUP, 2006), p.442.
The similarity with bias law is clear, both in terms of the language employed and
the methodologies that the language reflects: in both cases a real possibility70
suffices.
A third methodological similarity is found in the way each doctrine addresses
the issue of consent to its breach. A fiduciary is entitled to act in a situation that
would otherwise be caught by the conflict principle provided the fiduciarys
principal consents to the fiduciary so acting.71 Similarly, a decision-maker is
not disqualified from acting, even where a fair-minded and informed observer
might consider there was a real possibility that the decision-maker was biased,
provided the parties to the proceedings have consented to the decision-maker
continuing to act.72 In each case the waiver or consent must be made with the
benefit of full information. In the context of bias law, the decision-maker is
expected to make sufficient disclosure73 of any interest in the proceedings:
as Lord Woolf C.J. put it, [i]f disclosure is made, then full disclosure must
be made.74 Here, disclosure is not an obligation,75 but rather a mechanism
for obtaining insulation against the effects of bias laws disqualification rule.
Similarly, it is clear that a fiduciary can only avoid fiduciary conflict doctrines
disqualification if he obtains his principals fully informed consent by making
full and frank disclosure of all facts material to the conflict.76 Again, it
has been said that such disclosure is not an obligation: it is an answer
to circumstances which otherwise indicate disloyalty, not a mainspring of
equitable liability.77
There are substantial similarities, therefore, in the methodologies employed
in bias law and fiduciary conflict doctrine. However, it remains to consider
whether the two doctrines can be considered analogous in terms of their
respective rationales and remedies.
70 For bias law see, e.g. Porter [2001] UKHL 67; [2002] 2 A.C. 357 at [103]; Lawal [2003] UKHL
35; [2004] 1 All E.R. 187 at [2]; Dallaglio [1994] 4 All E.R. 139 at 151.
71 Lacey (1802) 6 Ves. 625 at 626; Downes v Grazebrook (1817) 3 Mer. 200 at 208; Sanderson v Walker
(1807) 13 Ves. 601 at 601; Regal (Hastings) [1967] 2 A.C. 134 at 150, 157; Brown v Inland Revenue
Commissioners [1965] A.C. 244 at 263, 265, 266, 267; Boardman [1967] 2 A.C. 46 at 109; Queensland
Mines (1978) 18 A.L.R. 1 at 8;Quarter Master [2004] EWHC 1815 (Ch); [2005] 1 B.C.L.C. 245 at [70].
72
Wakefield Local Board of Health v West Riding & Grimsby Railway Co (1865) L.R. 1 Q.B. 84 at 86;
R. v Nailsworth Licensing Justices Ex p. Bird [1953] 1 W.L.R. 1046 at 1049; Locabail [2000] Q.B. 451 at
[15], [26]; Steadman-Byrne [2007] EWCA Civ 625; [2007] 1 W.L.R. 2484 at [17].
73
Pinochet [2000] 1 A.C. 119 at 133.
74 Taylor v Lawrence [2002] EWCA Civ 90; [2003] Q.B. 528 at [65].
75 Ebner [2000] H.C.A. 63; (2000) 205 C.L.R. 337 at [70].
76 Boardman [1967] 2 A.C. 46 at 109; Re Haslam & Hier-Evans [1902] 1 Ch. 765 at 769770; New
Zealand Netherlands Society Oranje Inc v Kuys [1973] 1 W.L.R. 1126 at 1132, PC; Imperial Mercantile
Credit Association v Coleman (1873) L.R. 6 H.L. 189 at 200, 205; Dunne v English (1874) L.R. 18 Eq.
524 at 533535; Gray v New Augarita Porcupine Mines Ltd [1952] 3 D.L.R. 1 at 14; Movitex [1988]
B.C.L.C. 104 at 121; Gwembe Valley Development Co Ltd v Koshy [2003] EWCA Civ 1478; [2004] 1
B.C.L.C. 131 at [65].
77 Breen v Williams (1996) 186 C.L.R. 71 at 125; see also P & V Industries Pty Ltd v Porto [2006] VSC
131 at [24][25]; Shepherds Investments Ltd v Walters [2006] EWHC 836 (Ch); [2007] 2 B.C.L.C. 202
at [132]; although cf. M. Conaglen, Equitable Compensation for Breach of Fiduciary Dealing Rules
(2003) 119 L.Q.R. 246.
Rationales
In order to compare the rationales of fiduciary conflict doctrine and bias law
it is necessary first to identify those rationales. It will be suggested that, when
this is done, there are distinct similarities between the two rationales, although
the similarities may not be as great as first appears from the superficial linguistic
parallels between the two doctrines.
Notwithstanding some suggestions in the case law that fiduciary conflict
doctrine has some moralistic purpose, to hold fiduciaries to something stricter
than the morals of the market place,78 the more compelling view of fiduciary
conflict doctrines rationale is that it is far more instrumentalist in its outlook.
Its purpose is to provide a subsidiary and prophylactic form of protection for
non-fiduciary duties which enhances the chance that those non-fiduciary duties
will be properly performed.79 The primary means by which this protective
function is given effect is by seeking to insulate fiduciaries from influences that
are likely to distract them from such proper performance. Where a fiduciary
acts with a conflict between his personal interest and the duty that he owes
to his principal, there is a risk that the fiduciarys personal interest will tempt
him away from performing his duty properly. It is at that temptation that
fiduciary conflict doctrine strikes, seeking to avert breaches of non-fiduciary
duties by neutralising influences likely to sway the fiduciary away from the
proper performance of those non-fiduciary duties. As has already been noted,
it is often observed that fiduciary conflict doctrine is applied in a prophylactic
manner, but fiduciary conflict doctrine is more than merely prophylactic in its
application; in its very nature it operates as a prophylactic protection against the
risk that non-fiduciary duties will be breached. Numerous cases illustrate this
function,80 but for present purposes two examples will suffice. First, in Aberdeen
Railway v Blaikie, Blaikie was a director of a railway company who entered into
a contract to buy iron chairs to secure railway tracks. The company accepted
around two-thirds of the chairs, but then refused to accept delivery of any
more on the basis that Blaikie was also a principal of the firm which was
manufacturing and selling the chairs. The House of Lords held for the railway
company. Lord Cranworth L.C. explained why fiduciary conflict doctrine
interferes in such circumstances:
Blaikie was . . . a director . . . In that character it was his bounden duty
to make the best bargains he could for the benefit of the Company. While
he filled that character . . . he entered into a contract on behalf of the
Company with his own firm . . . His duty to the company imposed on
him the obligation of obtaining these chairs at the lowest possible price.
His personal interest would lead him in an entirely opposite direction,
would induce him to fix the price as high as possible. This is the very evil
against which the rule in question is directed.81
Ltd v Forwood [1901] 1 Ch. 746 at 761; Harris v Digital Pulse Pty Ltd [2003] NSWCA 10; (2003) 56
N.S.W.L.R. 298 at [414][415]; Collinge [2005] 1 N.Z.L.R. 847 at [55].
85 J. Finnis, Natural Law and Natural Rights (Oxford: OUP, 1980), pp.231233; D.J. Galligan, Law in
(Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1979), p.182; W. Twining and D. Miers, How To Do Things With Rules,
4th edn (London: Butterworths, 1999), p.169; A. Stone Sweet, Governing With Judges (Oxford: OUP,
2000), pp.11, 12; M. Shapiro and A. Stone Sweet, On Law, Politics & Judicialization (Oxford: OUP,
2002), p.57; A. Beever, The Laws Function and the Judicial Function (2003) 20 N.Z.U.L.R. 299
at p.311; A. Stone Sweet, The Judicial Construction of Europe (Oxford: OUP, 2004), pp.3, 6; J. Bell,
Judiciaries within Europe (Cambridge: CUP, 2006), p.356.
88 Stone Sweet, Judicial Construction, p.6.
89 Freeman, Lloyds Introduction to Jurisprudence, p.1377.
outcome seem to be of longer standing,90 it was not until the 1860s that
it became unequivocally established that judges should not adjudicate where
there was a real likelihood of bias.91 Certainly, there are numerous examples
as late as that time of judges sitting on appellate panels deliberating over the
correctness of a decision they had themselves reached in a lower court,92 and
indeed that practice was still extant to a degree into the middle of the 20th
century,93 despite the fact that at best [such a person] is likely to incline
towards affirming his earlier decision; at worst he can be depicted as a judge
in his own cause.94 There is also anecdotal historical evidence of financial
interests not being treated as seriously as they might now: according to Sir
Richard Bethell, Lord Eldon was a holder of Bank stock, but he never for
a moment considered that he was disqualified from adjudicating in a case in
which the Bank was concerned.95
The relevance of all this is that it suggests that concerns about bias are not
intrinsic to the concept of being a judge or arbiter. That point seems further
supported by the possibility of the bias objection being waived by the parties,96
of such objections being statutorily proscribed by Parliament,97 and of judges
sitting, despite having interests in the subject-matter of the litigation, where no
alternative decision-maker is available, or where necessity somehow other-
wise so requires.98 As Cockburn C.J. pointed out in Wakefield v West Riding, a
decision-maker who has an interest in the outcome is not thereby absolutely
incompetent to act, because the parties might consent and waive the objection,
unless Parliament has positively enacted for such all-embracing incompetence.99
90 de Smith, Woolf & Jowell, paras 11-004 and 11-005; R. Cranston, Disqualification of Judges for
Interest, Association or Opinion [1979] P.L. 237 at p.238; Earl of Derbys Case (1613) 12 Co. Rep.
114 at 114; Wood v Mayor & Commonalty of London (1701) Holt K.B. 396.
91 de Smith, Woolf & Jowell, para.11-004.
92 Chambers v Waters (1833) Coop. t. Brough. 91 and (1844) 11 Cl. & Fin. 684 (Lord Brougham
confirmed the Vice-Chancellors decision on appeal and then again in the House of Lords on appeal
from himself); Trevelyan v Charter (1835) 4 L.J. (N.S.) Ch. 209 and (1844) 11 Cl. & Fin. 714 (Lord
Cottenham sat in the House of Lords on appeal from his own decision as Master of the Rolls); Salomons
v Pender (1865) 3 H. & C. 639 (Martin B. sat as trial judge and then on the appeal); Overend Gurney &
Co v Gurney (1869) 4 Ch. App. 701 and Overend & Gurney Co v Gibb (1872) L.R. 5 H.L. 480 (Lord
Hatherley L.C. sat in the House of Lords on appeal from his own decision below). See also Sharman,
(1989) 10 Journal of Legal History 71 at pp.8687.
93
R. v Lovegrove [1951] 1 All E.R. 804.
94 de Smith, Woolf & Jowell, para.11-017.
95 London & North-Western Railway Co v Lindsay (1858) 3 Macq. 99 at 114115. It is difficult to be
Administrative Law, p.464; de Smith, Woolf & Jowell, paras 11-036 to 11-037.
97
Craig, Administrative Law, p.464; Wade & Forsyth, Administrative Law, pp.462463; de Smith, Woolf
& Jowell, para.11-038; Kirkstall [1996] 3 All E.R. 304 at 319.
98 Craig, Administrative Law, p.464; Wade & Forsyth, Administrative Law, p.459; de Smith, Woolf &
Jowell, para.11-039; Ebner [2000] H.C.A. 63; (2000) 205 C.L.R. 337 at [64][65], [172]. This situation
is naturally rare, but not non-existent: e.g. Dimes (1852) 3 H.L.C. 759 (decisions of the Vice-Chancellor
had to be enrolled by the Lord Chancellor to be appealed against, and the Lord Chancellors interest
did not invalidate this part of the process); H. Tolputt & Co Ltd v Mole [1911] 1 K.B. 836 at 838839;
Judges v Attorney General (Saskatchewan) (1937) 53 T.L.R. 464 at 465, PC; London & North-Western
Railway Co v Lindsay (1858) 10 Scots R.R. 41 at 48.
99 Wakefield (1865) L.R. 1 Q.B. 84 at 86.
If it is not inherent in the very nature of being a judge that one cannot act
where there is a reasonable apprehension of bias, then bias laws rules must
have some other normative justification. It is arguable that bias law reflects
a concern to ensure good judging. As de Smith puts it, an accurate decision
is more likely to be achieved by a decision-maker who is in fact impartial
or disinterested in the outcome of the decision.100 In other words, bias law
seeks to avoid situations where judges face temptations which might101 lead
them not to perform properly their core function qua judges, of reaching
rational decisions based on accurate findings of fact and proper application
of legal rules, principles and standards. Bias law is concerned with ensuring
that the decision-maker will ignore extraneous considerations, prejudices and
predilections and bring an objective judgment to bear on the issues before
him102 and that he is not turned aside by any motivation to favour one side
as against the other.103 Lord Bingham explained in Davidson v Scottish Ministers
that [w]hat disqualifies the judge is the presence of some factor which could
prevent the bringing of an objective judgment to bear, which could distort the
judges judgment.104
However, this conceptualisation of bias law is disputed. As Laurence Tribe
has pointed out, there are alternative conceptions of the primary purpose of
procedural due process and . . . competing visions of how that purpose might
best be achieved.105 The conception just presented treats bias law as having a
fundamentally instrumentalist rationale, as a protective means of assuring that
the societys agreed-upon rules of conduct, and its rules for distributing various
benefits, are in fact accurately and consistently followed.106 Gerry Maher, by
contrast, has argued that bias law is better understood on the basis that being
judged by an unbiased decision-maker is of intrinsic value in that it properly
respects the autonomy of the party affected by the decision.107 He developed
this argument by suggesting that an instrumental understanding of bias law
100 de Smith, Woolf & Jowell, para.11-002; see also Wade & Forsyth, Administrative Law, p.440;
Galligan, Due Process and Fair Procedures, p.73. Carol Harlow and Richard Rawlings have pointed
out that many administrative decisions are not straightforward rule applications but rather involve
questions of judgment or interpretation: C. Harlow and R. Rawlings, Law and Administration, 2nd
edn (London: Butterworths, 1997), p.497. This observation does not undermine the point made in
the text (cf. G. Richardson, The Legal Regulation of Process in G. Richardson and H. Genn (eds),
Administrative Law and Government Action (Oxford: OUP, 1994), p.105, at p.111). One does not need
to think there is a single correct decision to be reached by the exercise of a discretion (which itself
would deny the existence of discretion) in order to accept that a decision-makers judgment is more
likely to be better exercised if the decision-maker is required not to act in a situation where there is
a real possibility of bias. (On one view, this is what Ronald Dworkin meant by his right answers
thesis: B. Bix, Jurisprudence: Theory and Context, 4th edn (London: Thomson, 2006), pp.9395).
101 Meadowvale [1979] 1 N.Z.L.R. 342 at 348; Davidson [2004] UKHL 34; (2005) 1 S.C. (HL) 7 at
[6], [7].
102 Locabail [2000] Q.B. 451 at [25].
103 Roylance [2000] 1 A.C. 311 at 318.
104
Davidson [2004] UKHL 34; (2005) 1 S.C. (HL) 7 at [6] (emphasis added).
105 L.H. Tribe, American Constitutional Law, 2nd edn (Mineola: Foundation Press, 1988), p.666.
106 Tribe, American Constitutional Law, pp.666667.
107 G. Maher, Natural Justice as Fairness in N. MacCormick and P. Birks (eds), The Legal Mind
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986), p.103, at pp.114116; see also Richardson, The Legal Regulation of
Process, p.118. For general discussion of the two competing visions, see L.H. Tribe, Constitutional
fails to explain why it disqualifies judges where it seems clear that the judges
interest in the outcome did not actually have any effect on his or her decision,
as with Lord Cottenhams decision in Dimes.108 Instead, Maher argued that
rationalising bias law as based on respect for autonomy better justifies the
bias rule than reliance on the indirect instrumental value in generally achieving
better or more accurate decisions.109
It is not clear, however, that this dignitarian challenge defeats the
instrumentalist analysis when it is properly understood. First, the dichotomy
that Mahers approach creates between respect for autonomy, on the one hand,
and accuracy in decision-making, on the other, is a false one. As Denis Galligan
explains, accurate decisions themselves constitute an important element of
fair treatment, which in turn constitutes an important element of respect
for persons,110 as it is only by such decisions that a persons rights and
other expectations created by law are given proper protection and, ultimately,
respect. In other words, the instrumentalist account is itself an important part
of, rather than a counter-point to, the goal of autonomy.111 Mahers argument
fails to accord sufficient weight to the fact that:
[I]t is rational and defensible to adopt certain procedures on the ground
that they will normally contribute to better outcomes; the rules requiring
impartial decision-makers . . . could be justified on the ground that bias
or personal interest creates a risk that extraneous matters will be taken
into account and influence the outcome.112
Secondly, Mahers critique of the instrumentalist account fails because it is not
at all clear why it accords any greater respect to autonomy or dignity for a
decision to be attacked on the basis of bias where it is clear that the supposed
bias had no effect on that decision: certainly, the party whose fruits of victory
are snatched away by a conclusion that the decision-maker was apparently
biased, even though it is clear that the decision was in no way affected by that
bias, will not necessarily feel that her autonomy is respected when a perfectly
sensible decision in her favour is overturned. The concern raised by Maher is
more directly focused on the fact that bias law is broader in its ambit than it
Choices (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1985), p.13; Tribe, American Constitutional Law,
pp.666667; Richardson, The Legal Regulation of Process, pp.111114.
108 Maher, Natural Justice as Fairness, p.107; see also B. Toy-Cronin, Waiver of the Rule Against
Raz put it, [a]utonomy is valuable only if exercised in pursuit of the good: J. Raz, The Morality of
Freedom (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986), p.381; see also D. Feldman, Civil Liberties and Human Rights
in England and Wales, 2nd edn (Oxford: OUP 2002), p.8; R.A. Shiner, Freedom of Commercial Expression
(Oxford: OUP, 2003), pp.230233. As such, an appeal to autonomy does not defeat an instrumentalist
account.
112 Galligan, Due Process and Fair Procedures, p.72 (see also p.73). Similarly, Heydon J. has argued
(extra-curially) that the characteristics of regularity in a trial, which include the judges impartiality,
are important because the more regular the trial, the more likely it is that it will be fair; and the more
likely it is that a just result correct in law will be achieved: see J.D. Heydon, Reciprocal duties of
Bench and Bar (2007) 81 Australian Law Journal 23 at pp.2526.
need be: it has the potential to apply both where it is unclear that the possibility
of bias has had any impact on the decision and also where it is clear that the
possibility of bias has not materialised at all. But an instrumentalist account is
capable of explaining this just as adequately as, if not better than, an account
based on respect for autonomy, because the crux of this issue is simply the
difficulty inherent in proving bias. Again, Galligan explains this well:
. . . bias or personal interest creates a risk that extraneous matters will be
taken into account and influence the outcome. The difficulty of detecting the
influence of such matters is so great that a strict rule is justified; that risk might
even justify a further rule to the effect that actual partiality need not be
proved, but that it is enough to bring evidence of a risk of partiality.113
As has been demonstrated, the difficulties in identifying bias, due to its
insidious nature,114 have indeed led the law to take a prophylactic, or
precautionary,115 approach to its operation: the mere fact of a risk of
prejudice suffices because of the difficulty in proving whether that risk
materialised in the decision itself. Hence, bias law focuses its attention on
the question whether there is a:
. . . real danger of bias having affected the decision in the sense of having
caused the decision-maker, albeit unconsciously, to weigh the competing
considerations, and so decide the merits, unfairly.116
As the High Court of Australia put it in Ebner, in language which is clearly
reminiscent of Lord Herschells discussion of fiduciary conflict doctrine in Bray
v Ford,117 the apprehension of bias principle admits of the possibility of human
frailty and is based on identification of what it is said might lead a judge
(or juror) to decide a case other than on its legal and factual merits.118 Bias
law takes a prophylactic approach in order to avoid situations which might
be thought (by the reasonable observer) possibly to divert the judge from deciding
the case on its merits.119 It justifies that prophylactic approach on the basis that
bias operates in such an insidious manner that the person alleged to be biased
may be quite unconscious of its effect,120 which makes its identification and
proof exceedingly difficult.121
If it is correct that bias laws fundamental rationale is to provide an
instrumentalist form of protection against decisions being made otherwise
than on the merits, then the analogy drawn between it and fiduciary conflict
doctrine is viable. If, on the other hand, Maher were correct that bias laws
113 Galligan, Due Process and Fair Procedures, p.72 (emphasis added).
114
Roylance [2000] 1 A.C. 311 at 318.
115 Modahl v British Athletic Federation Ltd [2001] EWCA Civ 1447; [2002] 1 W.L.R. 1192 at [63].
116 Dallaglio [1994] 4 All E.R. 139 at 152 (emphasis added); see also Modahl [2001] EWCA Civ 1447;
fundamental rationale is respect for the autonomy of the parties, then the
connection between the two doctrines is far less clear. Equally, if bias law is
considered an intrinsic part of the decision-making function, then the analogy
between the two doctrines is far from obvious. For the reasons mentioned
above, it is suggested that there is room for bias law to be understood in an
instrumentalist fashion, which in turn means an analogy drawn between it and
fiduciary conflict doctrine is not radically misconceived. The insidious risk of
a decision-maker being affected by an unconscious bias is sufficient reason for
the law to refuse to tolerate the situation, without inquiring into whether it
actually had any influence on the decision of the judge, just as fiduciary conflict
doctrine is concerned to protect proper performance of fiduciaries duties by
seeking to eliminate conflicting personal interests.
It might be thought that the analogy is negated, or at least undermined,
by the frequent statements that bias law is based on public confidence in
the integrity of the administration of justice,122 whereas fiduciary conflict
doctrine does not appear so concerned with securing public confidence. There
are at least three points in answer to this objection. First, while fiduciary
conflict doctrine might not appear to be concerned with securing public
confidence, it is nonetheless concerned with securing confidenceit clearly
seeks to give principals confidence in their fiduciaries by the imposition of rules
which contribute to ensuring fiduciaries properly perform their non-fiduciary
duties. Tamar Frankel has argued that fiduciary doctrine is designed so as
to entitle principals to trust and rely on their fiduciaries: Fiduciaries should
be trustworthy.123 This sentiment can be shown to have a strong pedigree
in English case law. As long ago as 1795, Lord Thurlow said that fiduciary
conflict doctrine:
. . . seems to be a principle so exceedingly plain, that it is in its own
nature indisputable, for there can be no confidence placed, unless men will do
the duty they owe to their constituents, or be considered to be faithfully
executing it, if you apply a contrary rule.124
While fiduciary conflict doctrine allows the fiduciarys principal, rather than
the public, to have confidence, the nature of the confidence remains the same:
. . . confidence depends . . . on the procedures being of a kind which
we have good reason to believe will produce the right results. The value
is not in the procedures themselves but in their contribution to the right
or best outcomes.125
122 Serjeant v Dale (1877) 2 Q.B.D. 558 at 567; Metropolitan Properties Co (FGC) Ltd v Lannon [1967]
1 Q.B. 577 at 599; Anderton v Auckland City Council [1978] 1 N.Z.L.R. 657 at 687; Gough [1993]
A.C. 646 at 661, 659; Pinochet [2000] 1 A.C. 119 at 140141, 144; Roylance [2000] 1 A.C. 311 at 318;
Modahl [2001] EWCA Civ 1447; [2002] 1 W.L.R. 1192 at [66]; Lawal [2003] UKHL 35; [2004] 1 All
E.R. 187 at [15]. See also Allars, (2001) 18 Law in Context 12 at p.43; Toy-Cronin, (2002) 9 Auckland
University Law Review 850 at p.873; Taggart, [2003] New Zealand Law Review 99 at p.104.
123 T. Frankel, Fiduciary Duties as Default Rules (1995) 74 Oregon Law Review 1209 at p.1228
(emphasis original).
124 York Buildings Co v Mackenzie (1795) 3 Paton 378 at 393 (emphasis added).
125 Galligan, Due Process and Fair Procedures, p.72; see also Raz, The Morality of Freedom, p.55.
(Toronto: Carswell, 1989), p.1 at p.26; see also LAC Minerals Ltd v International Corona Resources Ltd
(1989) 61 D.L.R. (4th) 14 at 47; Hodgkinson v Simms (1994) 117 D.L.R. (4th) 161 at 184186; Hughes
Aircraft Systems International v Airservices Australia (1997) 146 A.L.R. 1 at 81; Collinge [2005] 1 N.Z.L.R.
847 at [60]; Wedderburn, (1985) 23 Osgoode Hall Law Journal 203 at p.221.
Remedial considerations
The final area in which to consider the similarities or differences that might
exist between bias law and fiduciary conflict doctrine lies in the remedial
considerations that arise in connection with each doctrine. In this context, the
differences between the two doctrines appear to be somewhat more substantial.
The remedies for breach of the fiduciary conflict doctrine are well settled.
Any resultant transaction can be rescinded, assuming third parties have not
become involved without knowledge. In other words, the transaction is
voidable, rather than void.136 Furthermore, the principal is entitled to request
an account of any profits which the fiduciary has made as a result of the
breach,137 and there is authority to the effect that equitable compensation is
available should the breach be proven to have caused any loss.138
The differences in the context of bias law are relatively obvious, although the
degree to which these are substantial differences requires some consideration.
First, whereas a breach of fiduciary conflict doctrine renders transactions
voidable, the orthodox view in English law is that bias renders void any decision
which the decision-maker reaches.139 However, it is possible to overstate this
difference, for two reasons. First, even if a biased decision is void ab initio,
it is now clear that its voidness is relative rather than absolute, so that the
decision becomes valid and effective in law once the law refuses to provide any
remedy to reflect its initial illegitimacy: there is no incongruity in saying that
where there is no remedy the void act must be taken as valid.140 This has led
to the argument that, in practical terms, the decision must be treated as valid
unless and until a remedy has been provided to reflect its invalidity and so the
decision should be regarded as voidable rather than void ab initio.141 For present
purposes, it does not matter which of these two positions is takenwhat is
clear is that the concept of what it means to be void in administrative
law is somewhat more flexible than its label would suggest. Even where a
decision is ultra vires the decision-maker, a public law court still has discretion
as to whether any relief ought to be granted to the claimant in respect of
136 Dover v Buck (1865) 5 Giff. 57 at 63; De Vigier v Inland Revenue Commissioners [1964] 2 All E.R.
907 at 913, HL; Tito [1977] Ch. 106 at 225, 241; Hely-Hutchinson v Brayhead Ltd [1968] 1 Q.B. 549 at
585, 589590; Guinness [1990] 2 A.C. 663 at 697.
137 De Bussche (1878) 8 Ch.D. 286 at 304, 317; Boston Deep Sea Fishing (1888) 39 Ch.D. 339 at 12,
15; Regal (Hastings) [1967] 2 A.C. 134; Industrial Development Consultants [1972] 1 W.L.R. 442 at 454.
138 Bentinck v Fenn (1887) 12 App. Cas. 652 at 661, 667, 669; Re Leeds & Hanley Theatres of Varieties
Ltd [1902] 2 Ch. 809 at 823, 831832; Swindle v Harrison [1997] 4 All E.R. 705; Warman International
Ltd v Dwyer (1995) 182 C.L.R. 544 at 559; Breen v Williams (1996) 186 C.L.R. 71 at 113; Aequitas v
AEFC [2001] NSWSC 14; (2001) 19 A.C.L.C. 1,006 at [428], [442]; Re MDA Investment Management
Ltd [2003] EWHC 2277 (Ch); [2005] B.C.C. 783 at [70]. See Conaglen, (2003) 119 L.Q.R. 246.
139 Wade & Forsyth, Administrative Law, pp.474475.
140 H.W.R. Wade, Unlawful Administrative Action: Void or Voidable?: Part I (1967) 83 L.Q.R.
499 at p.512; see also R. v Wicks [1998] A.C. 92 at 108109; C. Forsyth, The Metaphysic of Nullity:
Invalidity, Conceptual Reasoning and the Rule of Law in C. Forsyth and I. Hare (eds), The Golden
Metwand and the Crooked Cord (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), p.141 at p.142.
141 M. Taggart, Rival Theories of Invalidity in Administrative Law: Some Practical and Theoretical
Consequences in M. Taggart (ed.), Judicial Review of Administrative Action in the 1980s (Auckland:
OUP, 1986), p.70. This approach has been followed in New Zealand: Martin v Ryan [1990] 2 N.Z.L.R.
209.
that decision.142 Secondly, the position in equity depends upon whether the
fiduciary has acted pursuant to a legal or an equitable power. Where the power
is merely equitable the difference between void and voidable is of little, if any,
importance143 because an improper exercise of the power is simply ignored
in equity (and it would always have been ignored at law, because courts of law
did not recognise equitable powers at all). Where the power exercised is legal,
then the distinction between its exercise being void or voidable as a result of
a breach of fiduciary duty is potentially of more consequence, although even
there the difference is not as great as is sometimes supposed. In Abacus Trust
v Barr, Lightman J. sought to differentiate equitable notions of void and
voidable from public law:
By contrast with the position in public law proceedings in trust
proceedings the legal classifications of void and voidable must be respected
. . . and the court only has a discretion and can only have regard to the
lapse of time between the act under challenge and the challenge when
the challenged act is voidable and not void.144
With respect, this is not so for a number of reasons.145 First, it is possible for
the equitable doctrine of laches to justify a claimant being refused relief in
equity, even where the action against which relief is sought was void in equity.
Secondly, even if an act is void in equity, the consequences of the act remain
at law unless and until reversed, and a third party may be able to prevent any
reversal of those consequences, for example because he is a bona fide purchaser
of a legal interest in the assets concerned for value without notice of the equities.
In other words, while remedies in administrative law may be more discretionary
than those available in private law, it should not be thought that equitable
remedies always follow inexorably from breaches of equitable duties.146
A second difference affecting the practical outcome of claims brought on
the basis of bias law and fiduciary conflict doctrine respectively rests in their
divergent approaches to standing. It is clear in fiduciary doctrine that third
parties (those outside the fiduciary relationship) do not have standing to seek
to have a voidable act set aside; even the Revenue is only able to intervene
where a trustees action was void and so of no effect, as it remains valid
until set aside by the beneficiaries if it is merely voidable.147 Indeed, in
private law there is, in general, no separation of standing from the elements
in a cause of action.148 In contrast, the law of standing applied in the
142 R. v Monopolies & Mergers Commission Ex p. Argyll Group Plc [1986] 1 W.L.R. 763 at 774775,
778; R. v Secretary of State for Social Services Ex p. Association of Metropolitan Authorities [1986] 1 W.L.R.
1 at 1415.
143
Cloutte v Storey [1911] 1 Ch. 18 at 30.
144 Abacus Trust Co (Isle of Man) v Barr [2003] EWHC 114 (Ch); [2003] Ch. 409 at [30].
145 R. Nolan and M. Conaglen Trustee (In)Discretion [2006] C.L.J. 15 at p.18.
146 Equitable remedies are themselves discretionary, although this discretion appears more constrained
than that which courts have in the context of administrative law: see Snells Equity, para.12-04.
147 Sieff v Fox [2005] EWHC 1312 (Ch); [2005] 1 W.L.R. 3811 at [78].
148 Batemans Bay Local Aboriginal Land Council v Aboriginal Community Benefit Fund Pty Ltd [1998]
H.C.A. 49; (1998) 194 C.L.R. 247 at [43]; see also Truth About Motorways Pty Ltd v Macquarie
Infrastructure Investment Management Ltd [2000] H.C.A. 11; (2000) 200 C.L.R. 591 at [92].
Conclusions
149 For the old (more restrictive) law on standing, see Wade & Forsyth, Administrative Law,
pp.679690.
150 Inland Revenue Commissioners v National Federation of Self-Employed and Small Businesses Ltd [1982]
A.C. 617 at 653; Argyll Group [1986] 1 W.L.R. 763 at 773; R. v Felixstowe Justices Ex p. Leigh [1987] 1
Q.B. 582 at 598.
151
Small Businesses [1982] A.C. 617 at 630, 656; Argyll Group [1986] 1 W.L.R. 763 at 773; R. v
Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs Ex p. World Development Movement Ltd [1995] 1
W.L.R. 386 at 395. See generally Wade & Forsyth, Administrative Law, pp.690700.
152
Craig, Administrative Law, p.729; T.R.S. Allan, Law, Liberty, and Justice (Oxford: OUP, 1993),
p.232; P. Cane, Statutes, Standing and Representation [1990] P.L. 307 at p.307.
153 C. Harlow, Gillick: A Comedy of Errors? (1986) 49 M.L.R. 768 at p.769.
154
World Development Movement [1995] 1 W.L.R. 386 at 395; Wade & Forsyth, Administrative Law,
p.693.
155 Wade & Forsyth, Administrative Law, p.693; see also de Smith, Woolf & Jowell, para.2-004.
156
L. Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (1978) 92 Harvard Law Review 353 at
pp.394395; A. Chayes, The Role of Judges in Public Law Litigation (1976) 89 Harvard Law Review
1281 at pp.12891292. This is not to say that the problems associated with polycentric issues cannot
also arise in private law disputes: see Fuller, above, at pp.397398; J.W.F. Allison, Fullers Analysis of
Polycentric Disputes and the Limits of Adjudication [1994] C.L.J. 367 at pp.371373.
157
Assuming misfeasance in public office has not been proven (as to which, see W.V.H. Rogers,
Winfield & Jolowicz on Tort, 17th edn (London: Sweet & Maxwell, 2006), paras 7-20 to 7-23). Even if
it has, the reason for a monetary award then is the public officers commission of a tort rather than the
mere existence of a bias claim being available in administrative law.
158 Reading v Att Gen [1951] A.C. 507; Attorney General (Hong Kong) v Reid [1994] 1 A.C. 324, PC.
conflict of interest and bias are used to describe each doctrine and are
often used interchangeably between the two doctrines. However, this article
has sought to delve deeper than those similarities and to offer a more detailed
review of the law relating to bias and fiduciary conflict doctrine in order to
compare the two sets of doctrine and to evaluate the degree to which they may,
or may not, be analogous. Having done that, it is suggested that the linguistic
similarities do carry through into similar methodologies adopted within both
sets of doctrine, although the analogy between the two doctrines is slightly less
clear when one considers their respective rationales and the remedies made
available in respect of each.
Perhaps the most important of these apparent differences is the difference
between the rationales of the two doctrines, as one would expect operational
differences to flow from differences in rationalisation. Under the dignitarian
view of bias law, the similarities with fiduciary conflict doctrines rationalisation
are far from clear. However, it has been argued that the two doctrines can be
seen to exhibit the same underlying rationale if one accepts an instrumentalist
conceptualisation of bias law, as being fundamentally concerned with protecting
decision-makers from influences which make it more likely that they will reach
inaccurate (or poor) decisions. In other words, it is possible to conceive of bias
law as seeking to avoid extraneous influences which create a real possibility
of the decision-maker failing to perform properly his or her fundamental task
of reaching an accurate and justifiable decision. Similarly, fiduciary conflict
doctrine seeks to remove temptations which might cause fiduciaries not to
perform their underlying tasks properly. Just as fiduciary conflict doctrine is
designed to protect the proper performance of the non-fiduciary duties which
a fiduciary owes as a result of his fiduciary office, it is also possible to conceive
of bias law as protecting proper performance of a public decision-makers
function from interference.
However, having raised the issue of rationale as an important issue when
considering the degree to which an analogy between bias law and fiduciary
conflict doctrine may or may not be exact, it is crucial also to bear in mind the
purpose for which the analogy is being drawn, as this will identify the degree
to which different aspects of the analogy may have particular importance. If the
purpose of the analogy is simply to draw attention to the fact that private law
and public law both contain doctrines which operate so as to achieve similar
effects, then differences in the rationales for the existence of the doctrines are of
less importance than the methodologies deployed by each doctrine. However,
the fact that two doctrines achieve similar effects does not indicate that the
two actors to whom the doctrines applyfiduciaries and public officialsare
generally treated in the same way. Such a conclusion can only validly be reached
following detailed examination of several doctrines applicable to each kind
of actor.
In contrast, if the analogy is being used to provide a basis for the development
of one or other of the doctrines, the rationales underpinning each set of
doctrines become far more important than the mere fact that the doctrines
operate in roughly similar ways, because developments in the way that doctrines
operate may mean they no longer accurately reflect their underlying purposes.
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
Public-Private Intersection: Comparing Fiduciary Conflict Doctrine and Bias 83
Tom Hickman*
Blackstone Chambers
The past decade has been a significant period of constitutional reform.1 Its
significance has led some commentators to suggest that the reformsespecially
the Human Rights Act 1998 (HRA)have affected, or should affect, a
radical change in the role of domestic courts. One strain of argument suggests
that instead of determining whether conduct on the part of the state violates
individual rights, courts should engage in a debate with Parliament, government
and wider society about the scope and content of those rights. In other words,
the function of courts and judges is to propose answers to questions of legal
principle instead of resolving them. This view would represent a fundamental
shift in the orthodox understanding of the constitutional role of courts. It is of
practical importance to how judges decide cases and how politicians respond
to them. It is also relevant to the issue of what role the courts should have
under any future bill of rights, which is once again a hot topic. This paper
therefore critically examines this view, taking as its focus the arguments put
forward in its support in this journal by Professor Danny Nicol.2
* I am very grateful to Martin Loughlin and Alison Young for valuable comments on drafts of this
paper, as well as to participants in a constitutional theory seminar held at Oxford University on June
12, 2007, at which some of the ideas in this paper were presented, for their helpful comments and
probing questions.
1 See V. Bogdanor. Our New Constitution (2004) 120 L.Q.R. 242 referring to 15 separate
reforms with constitutional significance since the Labour Government took office in May 1997.
2 D. Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722.
3 See further T.R. Hickman, Constitutional Dialogue, Constitutional Theories and the HRA
1998 [2005] P.L. 306. The label dialogue is not itself a particularly happy one since it suggests a
The notion of dialogue simply rests on the insight that courts do not always,
and do not simply, resolve questions of principle that litigants bring before
them; and they interact with legislatures and governments in ways that are
both subtle and constructive. Broadly speaking, constitutional theories can be
described as dialogic when they emphasise the legitimacy and desirability of
courts not resolving questions of principle but instead allowing those issues, for
the time being at least, to be considered by others.
One type of dialogic theory emphasises the legitimacy and desirability of the
courts avoiding resolving questions of principle, for example by determining
claims on what might be termed procedural grounds, such as prematurity,
lack of standing, or on the basis that an issue is or has become hypothetical.
Alternatively, the courts might avoid resolving a question of principle by
deciding a case on the merits but on a narrow ground, for multiple overlapping
reasons, or without endorsing any rule or principle with general application.
In such cases, the courts leave the question of general principle undecided
and cast it back adrift on the sea of political controversy. Some commentators
emphasise both the legitimacy and central importance of these techniques to
the proper exercise of the judicial function in constitutional cases. Thus, it
has been argued that these techniques (or devices) allow courts to avoid
questions of principle until a greater degree of consensus has developed within
society on the issue in question. Courts can also avoid the possibility that
they will have to compromise important principles by finding that they are
overridden by the pressing, but passing, needs of the moment. At the same
time the courts will take small steps in the direction of principled goals and
in so doing nudge society towards a greater more principled consensus.4 A
variant on this view holds that the courts should seek to use these techniques
of avoidance actively to promote and encourage political debate in the hope
that it will be resolved by the legislature.5
In contrast, other theorists either leave out of account this aspect of judicial
technique or argue against the use of techniques of avoidance save, perhaps, in
exceptional circumstances. Such theories can be described as non-dialogic.6 For
example, theories of rights absolutism claim that the function of constitutional
courts should be to pronounce principles of fundamental justice and enforce
them as higher law. Avoiding doing so is a deviation from the proper function
of the courts.7
prolonged exchange, which is not a prerequisite for the use of the term in the context of public law
and theory. It is used here for want of a better term and because it is widely used and recognised.
4 A.M. Bickel, The Least Dangerous BranchThe Supreme Court at the Bar of Politics, 2nd edn (New
Harvard University Press, 1999). Contrast with the slightly different views expressed by Bickel in, A.M.
Bickel,The Supreme Court and the Idea of Progress (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1978).
6 Hickman, Constitutional Dialogue, Constitutional Theories and the HRA 1998 [2005] P.L. 306
at pp.311315.
7 A Dworkinian court of Herculean judges would seek to capture questions of fundamental principle
from the arena of party politics and resolve them by discerning and applying fundamental principles
from the entire corpus of norms within the constitutional system: e.g. Taking Rights Seriously (new
impression 2000. Originally, London: Duckworths, 1977); Rawls and the Law (2004) 5 Fordham Law
There is, however, another type of dialogic theory. This type of theory
maintains that the courts should not be regarded as resolving questions of
principle even when they address such issues head-on. The courts debate with
society not when they avoid determining questions of principle, but when
they address (and purport to decide) questions of principle. The function of
the courts is to propose principled arguments for resolution by the political
branches. On this view, the courts are denied the function of finally resolving
questions of legal principle and are assigned instead the role of participant in
a debate about their scope and content. The important result is that the courts
have a weakened constitutional status. As Nicol states in his article advocating
such a view, it is, not entirely fanciful to recast the Law Lords as a political
faction.8 Let us now examine the arguments in support of this type of theory.
Review 1387 at 13991404. See further Hickman, Constitutional Dialogue, Constitutional Theories
and the HRA 1998 [2005] P.L. 306 at pp.315316.
8 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.743. For US and
Canadian variants see M. Tushnet, Taking the Constitution Away From the Courts (New Jersey: Princeton
University Press, 1999); C.P. Manfredi, Judicial Power and the CharterCanada and the Paradox of Liberal
Constitutionalism, 2nd edn (Oxford: OUP, 2001); K. Roach, The Supreme Court on TrialJudicial
Activism or Democratic Dialogue (Toronto: Irwin Law, 2001) (although Tushnet, Roach and Manfredi
differ in other important respects).
9
T. Campbell, Incorporation through Interpretation in T. Campbell, K.D. Ewing and
A. Tomkins, eds, Sceptical Essays on Human Rights (Oxford: OUP, 2001). Also, Francesca Klug
has written: [Under the HRA] a dialogue is established between the courts, Parliament (with its new
Joint Committee on Human Rights) and Government (whose Ministers have to make human rights
impact statements when introducing new bills). More importantly, this tripartite approach creates the
space for any of us to join in the debate about where the line should be drawn when rights collide;
The Human Rights Acta third way or third wave Bill of Rights [2001] E.H.R.L.R. 361 at
370. [The HRA] was not enacted so that the courts could have the final say in areas where there is
no settled human rights answer . . . Parliament would be entitled to choose to protect its democratic
mandate on an issue where the human rights case law is far from settled. Encouraging this kind of
dialogue was one of the purposes of the HRA; Judicial Deference Under the Human Rights
Act 1998 [2003] E.H.R.L.R. 126 at 132. See also, R. Clayton, Judicial deference and democratic
dialogue: the legitimacy of judicial intervention under the Human Rights Act [2004] P.L. 33. In, A
Bill of Rights: do we need one or do we already have one? [2007] P.L. 701, Klug may have changed
her tune, arguing in defence of the HRA that the reality is declarations of incompatibility are accepted
by the government (p.708).
10 R. (on the application of Daly) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2001] UKHL 26; [2001] 2
A.C. 532.
11 Daly [2001] UKHL 26; [2001] 2 A.C. 532 at [23].
12 To say that the nature of the adjudication is the same is not the same as saying the substance of the
adjudication is the same. As a matter of substance, courts might reach a different result on the issue
of Convention compatibility when reviewing primary legislation if they apply the principle suggested
in some cases that greater latitude should be afforded to primary legislation (e.g. International Transport
Roth GmbH v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2002] EWCA Civ 158; [2003] 1 Q.B. 728
at [83] (Laws L.J.); Marcic v Thames Water Utilities Ltd [2003] UKHL 66; [2004] 2 A.C. 42 at [71]
(Lord Hoffmann); such an approach is in itself highly questionable: A v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2004] UKHL 56; [2005] 2 A.C. 68 at [42] (Lord Bingham)). Crucially, whether primary
legislation is in issue or not, the courts are engaged in resolving issues of Convention compatibility, not
making a preliminary determination for resolution by politicians.
13 HRA s.21(1).
14 Scotland Act 1998 s.29(2)(d); Northern Ireland Act 1998 s.6(2)(c).
15 Although I do not pursue the point here, there is an obvious difficulty in the distinction between
when courts operate dialogically and when they do not being shifted to the elusive boundary between
public and private law. For instance, there is no good reason why a court should be treated as resolving
what amounts to a breach of a persons right to privacy in a claim between private individuals but not
when the claim is against the government.
16 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.743 (emphasis in
3. The HRA requires a shift in our conception of the judicial role, which
should be understood as a political faction proposing to the government
and Parliament the way that the judges consider fundamental rights
should be interpreted.
Nicols first point is accurate as a broad proposition, but the degree of the
convergence is far less than either his arguments establish or than would be
required for us to accept that a profound reconceptualisation of the judicial
role is required. It is possible to have some sympathy with Nicols second point
because liberal legalist accounts of public law focus on the notion of politics
being subject to law at the expense of the fuzzy but fascinating border between
law and politics. For instance, liberal legalists focus on the manner that courts
counteract the excesses of politicians but pay little attention to way that courts,
Parliament and government interact in moving society towards more principled
positions.18 It nonetheless requires a giant leap from this position to Nicols
third proposition. It certainly does not follow that the imperfections in liberal
legalist accounts of public law require our acceptance of Nicols alternative
vision.19 Although I will return briefly to Nicols first proposition, I want
first to address Nicols third proposition directly.
Nicols claim is that his alternative vision presents a more attractive balance
between democracy and fundamental rights than the dominant liberal legalist
view.20 However, if we are to accept it, Nicols theory must not only provide
a more persuasive and appealing account of the judicial function in public
law cases, but also of all other possible accounts. The fact that liberal legalism
provides an imperfect model does not lead us to Nicols alternative vision by
default. In examining the cogency of Nicols alternative vision, it is helpful
to distinguish between the effect of Nicols alternative vision on the way
cases are decided (legal effects) and the effect on the way cases are treated
(constitutional effects).
Legal effects
If we look first to the legal implications of Nicols alternative vision, it is difficult
to work out what Nicol considers them to be. Thus, Nicol claims that the courts
should adopt an uninhibited use of declarations of incompatibility; but he
seems to accept that courts interpretation of the interpretative obligation under
18
This point is developed in Hickman, Constitutional Dialogue [2005] P.L. 306; and T.R.
Hickman, In Defence of the Legal Constitution (2005) 55 University of Toronto Law Journal 981.
Despite the views set out in these articles (one of which Nicol cites), Nicol oddly characterises my
own position as premised on a clear division of principle and policy, which is central to liberal legalist
accounts, but not my own: [2006] P.L. 722 at p.736. See also the more nuanced liberal legalist theory
of Trevor Allan, e.g. Constitutional Dialogue and the Justification for Judicial Review (2003) 23
O.J.L.S. 563.
19 For some modest attempts to articulate an in-between position see Hickman, Constitutional
Dialogue [2005] P.L. 306 and (2005) 55 University of Toronto Law Journal 981.
20 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.723.
HRA s.3 is correct.21 More puzzling and important is how Nicol thinks judges
committed to his alternative vision should go about interpreting fundamental
rights. He argues that judges should be fearless, uncompromising and
outspoken22 ; and argues that, [u]nder the HRA the judiciary should
assume the role of honest orator23 and of ideological partisans.24 However,
it is not at all clear what this means. Nicol states that, [t]o spell it out,
there should be an exact coincidence between what judges say and what
they think.25 But what does this mean in practice? On the one hand, Nicol
might mean that judges do not presently decide cases on the basis of what
they think is the right outcome, but that they should do so. One rather
hopes, in fact, that judges do already decide cases on the basis of what they
consider to be the right result. Moreover, I can think of no legal theorist
who claims that they should not do so. On the other hand, Nicol might be
making a different point: that although judges decide cases on the basis of
what they think is the right result their reasons do not reflect the basis for
their decision. It has, for instance, been argued by legal realists and others
that although judges give reasons of principle and policy for their decisions,
these merely serve to conceal the fact that the decisions have been reached on
other grounds, such as the judges personal predisposition, political ideology,
or on the basis of economic rationality. Nicol cannot be making this point,
however, because it is the very opposite of his argument that the role of the
judge should be conceived as a privileged position to advance augments of
principle to Parliament, the government and wider society. Nicol does not
suggest that judges should use their office as a means of promoting, for instance,
their own personal political or religious views, but for proposing arguments of
principle.
Another possibility is that Nicol is arguing that judges should ignore any
doubts and routinely come down against the government. Take for example
the case of A v Secretary of State for the Home Department26 in which the
House of Lords held that that there was a state of emergency threatening
the life of the nation which justified derogation from the Convention,
but that the indefinite detention powers in the Anti-Terrorism Crime and
Security Act 2001 enacted pursuant to the United Kingdoms derogation were
discriminatory and disproportionate. The decision of the Committee on the
national security issue was unfortunate and probably wrong,27 and in the face
21 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.747, although he
disagrees with R. v A (No.2) on the House of Lords approach to s.3 (p.729). Importantly, it now
seems to be accepted that s.3 is the primary remedial tool and s.4 is a measure of last resort and
exceptional: Ghaidan v Godin-Mendoza [2004] UKHL 30; [2004] 2 A.C. 557 at [48] and [50] (Lord
Steyn).
22 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at pp.744745, and 750
23 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.745.
24 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.750
25 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.746
26 [2004] UKHL 56; [2005] 2 A.C. 68.
27 T.R. Hickman, Between Human Rights and the Rule of Law: Indefinite Detention and the
28 Lord Bingham said he had misgivings ([2004] UKHL 56; [2005] 2 A.C. 68 at [26]), Lord Scott
expressed very great doubt (at [154]), Lord Rodger acknowledged hesitation (at [165]). Contrast
Lord Hope, ample evidence (at [118]), and Baroness Hale, not . . . qualified or even inclined to
hold otherwise (at [226]).
29 See also Jeffrey Jowells view: The courts are charged by Parliament [under the HRA] with
deliminating the boundaries of a rights-based democracy. In doing so, they ought not in any way be
influenced by the fact that Parliament may in the end disregard their pronouncements. Nor should they
prefer the authority of Parliament or other bodies on the ground alone that they represent the popular
will, or are directly or indirectly accountable to the electorate. J. Jowell, Judicial deference: servility,
civility or institutional capacity? [2003] P.L. 592 at p.597.
30 See also Clayton, [2004] P.L. 33, p.33.
31
See Roach, The Supreme Court on TrialJudicial Activism or Democratic Dialogue, p.284.
32 Roach, The Supreme Court on TrialJudicial Activism or Democratic Dialogue, p.238.
33 Roach, The Supreme Court on TrialJudicial Activism or Democratic Dialogue, p.284.
democratic debate. Judges and judgments may enrich democratic debate, but
they should not do so at the expense of getting their judgments right on points
of principle.
Nicol also suggests that judges should refrain from acting prudentially,
i.e. from avoiding resolving questions of principle (which the first type of
dialogic theory that we considered claims to be legitimate and desirable).34
It is important to appreciate that at least one virtue of judicial avoidance
techniques is that they avoid the courts otherwise approving a restrictive
interpretation of individual rights. They give effect to the need for political
compromise without compromising principles themselves.35 A v Secretary of
State for the Home Department provides a good example. It would have been
much preferable for the House of Lords to have declined to decide whether
there was a state of emergency at all, which was not necessary for its decision,
instead of positively holding (Lord Hoffmann dissenting) that conditions in
the United Kingdom permitted derogation from the Convention.36 If their
Lordships had real and justifiable doubts, this is how they should have given
effect to them: not by deciding that there was an emergency, or that there
was no emergency, which was not necessary for their decision. It is all very
well for commentators to criticise judges for not grasping the nettle of difficult
issues, but it is often better that they do not do so if the alternative would
be legitimising a compromise of principle. Nicols approach is only preferable
from the perspective of protecting individual rights on the premise that the
court will, having grasped the nettle, always decide against the government.
We have seen that such an approach is open to serious criticism.
Other question marks hang over Nicols alternative vision. For instance,
what is a court to do faced with a challenge to reply legislation enacted by
the government or Parliament? If the courts decide cases on the basis that
they are only proposing arguments of principle to be resolved by others then
they should, acting consistently in this role, refuse to review or scrutinise such
replies on the basis that they represent the considered democratic view of
34
Nicol states that judges could afford to be less inhibited by the dictates of prudence, [2006]
P.L. 722 at pp.744745. It also might be the case that Nicol considers that the courts should not apply
a doctrine of deference. This would not however distinguish his case from legal liberalism, which is
sceptical of doctrines of deference, and it would suffer from the same failing that he attributes to liberal
legalism, namely, that it fails to account for the way this doctrine is used to trim their principled
commitment to human rights (p.738). It would also be inconsistent with his criticism of R. v A (No.2)
(considered below), in which Lord Hope, dissenting, invoked the doctrine to justify upholding the
rape shield law.
35 This was one of the insights and premises of A.M. Bickels great book, The Least Dangerous
BranchThe Supreme Court at the Bar of Politics; also Bickel, The Supreme Court, 1960
TermForeword: The Passive Virtues (1960) 75 Harvard Law Review 40. Nicol overlooks this
when he refers to the fact that the courts give effect to the need to compromise principles in these ways
as an example of judges doing what politicians do. He misses the point that it is not that judges do not
make compromises, but the way in which they do so, that sets their function apart from politicians. See
Hickman, Constitutional Dialogue [2005] P.L. 306 at pp.318321.
36 Essentially this point is made by A. Tomkins, Readings of A v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2005] P.L. 259: Rather than guessingwhich is what the Law Lords appear to have
donewhat was to prevent them from ruling that they simply did not know, . . .After all, the court,
as it turned out, did not need to resolve the question one way or the other. . . (p.262).
government or Parliament made with the benefit of the courts analysis of the
legal position. Although Nicols dialogic theory is robust in the first instance,
judicial resistance would melt away when its contribution to the democratic
debate has been made and Parliament enacts a considered response.37
Moreover, what is a judge to do when the issue involves a balance between
the rights of two individuals? This difficulty is brought out by Nicols criticism
of the House of Lords judgment in R. v A (No.2)38 for doing, as far as I
can tell, precisely what his alternative vision prescribes, namely, standing up
for individual rights in the face of broader societal concerns relating to the
under-conviction of sexual assault crimes and the effect of cross-examination
on women complainants in rape trials.39 Nicol criticises the House of Lords
conclusion that the rights of accused to a fair trial prevail over those of
complainants. In an extraordinary vitriol, Nicol accuses the House of Lords of
being cruel and blinded by its zeal . . . for base prejudice.40 Leaving these
comments aside for a moment, the judgment would appear to be precisely
in line with Nicols alternative vision. Their Lordships, (1) made clear to
Parliament what in their view are the requirements of a fair trial, (2) came
down fearlessly in favour of the vulnerable minority with the most immediate
call on the courts for protection; namely, accused persons,41 and (3) put the
ball back in Parliaments court.
The relevant part of the House of Lords reasoning actually consists of three
straightforward propositions. First, the House of Lords reaffirmed that the right
to a fair trial is absolute. Second, it held that depriving accused persons of the
ability to lead relevant evidence which is important to a ground on which they
intend to defend themselves would deprive them of a fair trial. Third, that
evidence of prior sexual history, such as that the complainant and the accused
were in an ongoing relationship, could be relevant and important to the issue
of consent in a trial for rape, which provides the accused with a defence to the
charge. It followed that where an accused could not lead such evidence as part
of his defence the trial would be unfair.42 The House of Lords was unanimous
on this point. As a matter of legal principle the House of Lords reasoning is
37
For further discussion of legislative replies and how they would be treated by courts adhering
to a different type of dialogic approach see Hickman, Constitutional Dialogue [2005] P.L. 306 at
pp.328330.
38 [2001] UKHL 25; [2002] 1 A.C. 45.
39 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.739
40 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.739.
41
Nicol reminds us that the victims of sexual assault crimes are overwhelmingly women, who are
the underprivileged majority of the population. Nicol perhaps implies that the House of Lords
ought therefore to have prioritised the rights of women over those of accused persons. But despite the
undeniable and troubling fact that rape trials can lead to a severe intrusion on the rights of complainants,
accused persons standing trial are (despite the fact that they are overwhelmingly men and therefore
not in that capacity underprivileged), a segment of society with an even more immediate claim to the
protection of the courts.
42 The House of Lords also unanimously held that s.41 of the Youth Justice and Criminal Evidence
Act 1999 should be read so as to allow a fair trial, although differing on how this should be achieved
and whether the statute itself violated Art.6 of the Convention as opposed to its effects in individual
cases: see Ghaidan v Godin-Mendoza [2004] UKHL 30; [2004] 2 A.C. 557 at [47] (Lord Steyn). Nicol
also disagrees with this aspect of the judgment, see [2006] P.L. 722 at p.747.
not controversial, and Nicol does make clear which of the propositions it is
which led to the House of Lords conclusion he disagrees with.
Constitutional effects
If we now turn to the constitutional effects that would follow from accepting
Nicols theory, we find them also puzzling. Nicol states that judicial decisions
should be given a contested rather than absolute status.43 The most obvious
implication of giving judicial decisions a contested status is that they do not
have to be followed. Precisely this approach has been suggested at a couple
of points in the constitutional history of the United States and finds its most
infamous expression in the Governor of Arkansas refusal to implement the US
Supreme Courts decision in Brown v Board of Education.44 This led to the case
of Cooper v Aaron in which the Supreme Court articulated the requirement for
state officials and legislatures to follow its orders. Justice Frankfurter stated in a
concurring Opinion45 :
Criticism need not be stilled. Active obstruction or defiance is barred.
Our kind of society cannot endure if the controlling authority of the
Law as derived from the Constitution is not to be the tribunal specially
charged with the duty of ascertaining and declaring what is the supreme
Law of the Land. . . . The Constitution is not the formulation of the
merely personal views of the members of this Court, nor can its authority
be reduced to the claim that state officials are its controlling interpreters.
The equivalent position in the United Kingdom was set out by Lord Woolf
in the no less constitutionally significant case of M v Home Office, holding that
the Crown can be found to be in contempt of court. Lord Woolf stated that
a finding of contempt is necessary to vindicate the requirements of justice
and to ensure that the orders of the court are obeyed.46 Lord Bingham has
also stated obiter that47 :
Just as the courts must apply Acts of Parliament whether they approve
of them or not, and give effect to lawful official decisions whether they
agree with them or not, so Parliament and the executive must respect
judicial decisions, whether they approve of them or not, unless or until
they are set aside. . . . Only very rarely could it be appropriate for the
executive to act in a way which threw doubt on a judicial decision.
These statements, which reach to the heart of the constitutional division of
powers under the UK constitution, seem to me to be incompatible with
Nicols alternative vision.
43 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.744. See also
Congress of January 16, 1833, II Richardson, Messages and Papers of the Presidents (1896 edn), 610,
623.
46 [1994] 1 A.C. 377 at 425.
47 Re McFarland [2004] UKHL 17; [2004] 1 WLR 1289 at [7].
48 Contrast however the statement made to the House of Commons by the Financial Secretary to the
Treasury, Mr MacDermot MP, on the second reading of the War Damages Bill following the decision
of the House of Lords in Burmah Oil v Lord Advocate [1965] A.C. 75 (considered below), suggesting that
the House of Lords got the law wrong: The object of this Bill is to restore the common law of England
and the law of Scotland to the position which was generally thought to exist before the decision and
to provide that about 12 cases now pending . . . before the court are disposed of on the basis of the
law as it has always been thought to be . . .. (Hansard, HC Vol. 705, col. 1091 (February 3, 1965);
referred to in C. Harlow and R. Rawlings, Law and Administration, 2nd edn (London: Butterworths
1997), p.50.
49
[2003] EWHC 195; (2003) 100(15) L.S.G. 26, affirmed [2003] EWCA Civ 364; [2004] Q.B. 36.
50 Blunkett hits out at power of the courts, Guardian, February 21, 2003. Mr Blunkett was speaking
as Home Secretary. As for the courts engaging in a debate with the wider public, the difficulties of
adequate engagement are even greater. As the Department of Constitutional Affairs Review of the
Implementation of the Human Rights Act, July 2006, found: The Human Rights Act has been widely
misunderstood by the public, and has sometimes been misapplied in a number of settings and a
number of damaging myths have taken route in the popular imagination (Executive Summary).
alternative vision would not only require a transformation of the judicial role
but also a transformation in the conduct of politics.
Judges as politicians
Nicol buttresses his argument for his alternative vision by arguing that over
the past 50 years there has been such an erosion of the distinction between
what judges do and what politicians do that judges have been recast as a
political faction.51 In my view, Nicol greatly overestimates the degree to
which judges have moved into political territory.52 Clearly, the justiciability
of human rights norms has made many more broadly-framed moral rights
subject to interpretation and enforcement by the courts. But let us not forget
that very many already were. There is no more broadly framed legal principle
that Lord Atkins neighbour principle, for example, which was established
in 1932.53 And almost as broad, in the field of public law, is the right of
natural justice, which we have on highest authority to be no more than
fair play writ large and judicially54 and fair play in action.55 Applying
broadly-framed moral principles as law is an established part of the judicial
function.
Nicol relies on a couple of interesting arguments to support his conclusion
that judges have become quasi-legislators. He suggests that the enforcement
of human rights norms leads to the use of obiter statements which he says
allows courts to transmit a broader message than required to determine the case
before them. He points to the fact that in the Pro Life Alliance case56 several of
their Lordships expressed a view on whether a taste and decency requirement
for transmission of party political television broadcasts was compatible with
Art.10 of the Convention, despite the fact that the issue for the court was
only whether the requirement had been properly applied by the BBC.57
The use of judicial statements that go beyond the issues in the case, and
often also the argument before the court, is a dialogic technique in the
sense that it is a technique of judging that does not resolve any issue of
principle. It signals to public officials the preliminary view of the judiciary
as to what the law requires on a matter that is unclear or unsettled and it
guides their future conduct, not least in implementing the decision of the
court. It would, however, be necessary to see far more evidence before one
could accept that judges stray beyond the confines of the case more than
51 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.743
52
See generally on the political role of judges in English law, J.A.G. Griffith, The Politics of the
Judiciary, 5th edn (Fontana Press, 1997, first published 1977); J. Bell, Policy Arguments in Judicial Decisions
(Oxford: Clarendon, 1983); R. Stevens, The House of Lords as a Judicial Body (London: Weidenfeld and
Nicolson, 1979).
53 Donoghue v Stevenson [1932] A.C. 532.
54
Furnell v Whangarei High Schools Board [1973] A.C. 660 at 679 (Lord Morris)
55 Ridge v Baldwin [1963] 1 Q.B. 539 at 578 (Harman L.J.; approved on numerous occasions).
56 R. (on the application of ProLife Alliance) v BBC [2003] UKHL 23; [2004] 1 A.C. 185.
57 Nicol, Law and Politics After the Human Rights Act [2006] P.L. 722 at p.726: The majority
of the Appellate Committee clearly signalled their response to the question of general principle despite
the fact that it lay outside the ambit of the appeal.
they otherwise do (or have previously done) when they are enforcing human
rights norms. This is, after all, also an established judicial technique. Take
Donoghue v Stevenson again. The issue in that case was simply whether under
Scots law a manufacturer could owe a duty to a purchaser of its product,
to whom it caused personal injury, in circumstances where there was no
possibility of intermediate inspection of the product. It was also a question
with very wide significance for social policy and public health. Both these
points were expressly recognised by Lord Atkin at the outset of his judgment,58
but he nonetheless went on to set out the responsibilities of individuals and
companies to each other in the broadest possible terms that went many miles
beyond the narrow issue in the case.59 Another example, closer to the Pro
Life Alliance case perhaps, can be found in Burmah Oil v Lord Advocate.60
The issue was whether compensation must be paid where private property
is destroyed to prevent it falling into the hands of an advancing enemy.61
Lords Reid and Pearce ventured beyond the issue (Lord Pearce forthrightly)
in an attempt to pour cold water on the pursuers claim, and perhaps signal
to Parliament that the implications of the judgment might not be too costly
(in vain as it turned out), by indicating that the value of the property
should not be calculated on the basis of its peace time value (as claimed)
but on the basis of its chance of survival and restoration if taken by the
enemy.62
58 Lord Atkin put it thus: My Lords, the sole question for determination in this case is legal: Do the
averments made by the pursuer in her pleading, if true, disclose a cause of action? I need not restate
the particular facts. The question is whether the manufacturer of an article of drink sold by him to a
distributor, in circumstances which prevent the distributor or the ultimate purchaser or consumer from
discovering by inspection any defect, is under any legal duty to the ultimate purchaser or consumer to
take reasonable care that the article is free from defect likely to cause injury to health. I do not think a
more important problem has occupied your Lordships in your judicial capacity: important both because
of its bearing on public health and because of the practical test which it applies to the system under
which it arises. The case has to be determined in accordance with Scots law; but it has been a matter
of agreement between the experienced counsel who argued this case, and it appears to be the basis of
the judgments of the learned judges of the Court of Session, that for the purposes of determining this
problem the laws of Scotland and of England are the same. Donoghue v Stevenson [1932] A.C. 532 at
578579.
59 The rule that you are to love your neighbour becomes in law, you must not injure your
neighbour; and the lawyers question, Who is my neighbour? receives a restricted reply. You must
take reasonable care to avoid acts or omissions which you can reasonably foresee would be likely to
injure your neighbour. Who, then, in law is my neighbour? The answer seems to bepersons who
are so closely and directly affected by my act that I ought reasonably to have them in contemplation as
being so affected when I am directing my mind to the acts or omissions which are called in question.
Donoghue v Stevenson [1932] A.C. 532 at 581.
60 [1965] A.C. 75.
61 Nicol also argues that the courts have established cardinal principles of public law simply because
they are common ground between the parties. Nicol here points to an interesting an unexplored feature
of common law litigation, namely, the effect of concessions made in one case on the future development
of the law, as well as the appropriateness of judges commenting on concessions when they have not
heard argument on the point (see, e.g. counsels concession in Donoghue v Stevenson [1932] A.C. 532).
Nothing is, however, established in law by concession and any judicial approval of a concession
made by a party merely serves to indicate to practitioners the likely outcome of future litigation on the
point. The point also goes nowhere for Nicols argument, because it does not support the argument
that judges are more engaged in legislative tasks: points are not conceded by judges.
62 [1965] A.C. 75 at 113 (Lord Reid) and 163 (Lord Pearce).
63 Perhaps most extraordinary are the comments madewithout hearing argument on the pointby
Lord Hope and Lord Brown on discrimination and racial profiling in the exercise of stop and search
powers in R. (on the application of Gillan) v Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis [2006] UKHL 12;
[2006] 2 W.L.R. 537 at [40][47] and [79][92].
64 R. v Shayler [2002] UKHL 11; [2003] 1 A.C. 247: The House received and heard interesting
submissions on behalf of the Newspaper Society, nine newspapers and two television channels. But this
appeal calls for decision of no issue directly affecting the media and I think it would be undesirable to
attempt to give guidance in the context of this appeal at [30], per Lord Bingham, and [117], per Lord
Hutton.
65 In part because fewer rights were recognised and justiciable.
66
Cooper v Wandsworth Board of Works (1863) 14 C.B. (N.S.) 180.
67 Adams v Naylor [1944] K.B. 750
68 Morris v Beardmore [1981] A.C. 446.
69 Introduction to the Study of the Law of the Constitution, 10th edn (London: Macmillan, 1959),
pp.413414 and Lectures in the Relation between Law and Public Opinion in England During the Nineteenth
Century, 2nd edn (London: Macmillan, 1914), pp.488, 490.
70 Anisminic v Foreign Compensation Commission [1969] 2 A.C. 147.
71 Ghaidan v Godin-Mendoza [2004] UKHL 30; [2004] 2 A.C. 557 at [33] (Lord Nicholls); R. v
Secretary of State for the Home Department Ex p. Simms [2000] 2 A.C. 115 at 130 (Lord Hoffmann).
72 R. v A (No.2) [2002] 1 A.C. 46; R. v Offen [2001] 1 W.L.R. 253 (s.3); Anisminic v Foreign
Compensation Commission [1969] 2 A.C. 147; Adams v Naylor [1944] K.B. 750 (common law). Cf.
Nicol, Statutory interpretation and human rights after Anderson [2004] P.L. 274.
73 Nicol refers to judicial review being sporadic and peripheral in the 1940s and 1950s. But of
course, judicial review did not exist until 1977. There was no procedure for bringing public law
challenges and restricted scope for doing so until the implications of the House of Lords ruling in
Anisminic had settled in. It is not therefore clear what sort of claims Nicol has in mind. (The juridical
concept of public law was also introduced into English law in the 1970s, although the term has been
used here to describe challenges against the government, including, e.g. tort claims, for convenience.)
74
Associated Provincial Picture Houses v Wednesbury Corp [1948] 1 K.B. 223.
75 Burmah Oil v Lord Advocate [1965] A.C. 75; Anisminic v Foreign Compensation Commission [1969] 2
W.L.R. 163. See the discussion in Harlow and Rawlings, Law and Administration, pp.4758.
76 A few that spring to mind: East Suffolk Rivers Catchment Board v Kent [1941] A.C. 74; Duncan v
Cammell Laird Co Ltd [1942] A.C. 624; Liversidge v Anderson [1942] 2 A.C. 206; Adams v Naylor [1946]
A.C. 543; Ridge v Baldwin [1964] A.C. 40;Padfield v Ministry of Agriculture [1968] A.C. 997; Conway v
Rimmer [1968] A.C. 910. An historical study (or legal historian) would probably identify many others.
77 See, e.g. H.W.R. Wade and C.F. Forsyth, Administrative Law, 8th edn (Oxford: OUP, 2000),
p.898 considering the Franks Committee Report, Cmd 218, 1957. It is worth also recalling the
comments of Lord Reid in Ridge v Baldwin [1964] A.C. 40 at 7273: We do not have a developed
system of administrative lawperhaps because until fairly recently we did not need it. So it is not
surprising that in dealing with new types of cases the courts have had to grope for solutions, and have
found that old powers, rules and procedure are largely inapplicable to cases which they were never
designed or intended to deal with.
78 (1607) 12 Co. Rep. 63.
79 (1611) 12 Co. Rep. 74l.
Conclusion
Jeff A. King*
Keble College, University of Oxford
Lon Fullers claim that polycentric disputes are unsuitable for adjudication
has had a powerful impact on the English law of justiciability. Fuller con-
ceded, as many have noted, that polycentricity is a matter of degree and that
counter-examples can be admitted without collapsing the concept. But this
article suggests that not only do counter-examples exist, but that the law is
rife with them, and that the existence of such examples forces us to refine
or reject Fullers doctrine. The issue is important because the argument that
polycentric issues are non-justiciable is most frequently raised in the context of
resource allocation disputes. Such disputes frequently involve claims to health,
education, social security or housing resources. As such, they often concern
internationally recognised human rights claims of the highest order. But many
say that social rights should not be legal rights because they would require judges
to adjudicate polycentric disputes. This article suggests we need to reconsider
this objection. It shows how polycentricity is a pervasive feature of adjudica-
tion, discussing a number of examples but choosing to focus principally on an
area that is infrequently discussed in public lawthe law of taxation. It is shown
that tax law is heavily polycentric but that there is an accepted role for courts
in protecting citizens against the spectre of unfettered public power. Demon-
strating the pervasiveness of polycentricity does not alone make the case for
rejecting the wisdom of Fullers doctrine, a good deal of which appears sound.
But it helps illuminate both how the concept is invoked selectively, and how
it cannot without further refinement be relied upon to justify judicial restraint.
* Research Fellow and Tutor in Law. The author is grateful to Timothy Endicott, J.W.F. Allison,
Judith Freedman, Nicholas Bamforth, Paul Craig, Kirsty McLean, Jan van Zyl Smit, Alicia Hinarejos
Parga, Vanessa Mak and the Editor of Public Law for helpful comments on earlier drafts. I am particularly
grateful to Graham Gee for his exceptional contribution.
1 L. Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review 353. The
paper was a draft published posthumously. As explained on the editors opening note on the paper, the
first draft was written in 1957, and revised in 1959 and 1961. Fuller, as with Polanyi before him, never
gave a succinct definition of what a polycentric task was.
2 Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review 353 at p.397.
3 Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review 353 at p.394.
4 Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review 353 at
pp.170 et seq.
6
Polanyi, The Logic of Liberty: Reflections and Rejoinders (1951) p.179.
7 Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review 353 at p.354.
8 Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review 353 at p.364.
9 Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review 353 at p.365;
see also O.M. Fiss, The Supreme Court 1978 Term: Foreword: The Forms of Justice (1978) 93
Harvard Law Review 1 at p.40 (calling participation the core of Fullers theory).
10 See, e.g. the Supreme Court of Canadas decision in M v H [1999] 2 S.C.R. 3 at [310]
(Bastarrache J.).
11 I am indebted to J.W.F. Allison for this point.
12 H. Simon, Administrative Behavior: A Study of Decision-Making Processes in Administrative Organization,
(1976).
13 Simon, Administrative Behavior: A Study of Decision-Making Processes in Administrative Organization,
(1976), p.401.
15 A. Chayes, The Role of the Judge in Public Law Litigation (1976) 89 Harvard Law Review 1281
at p.1282.
16 Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review 353 at p.398.
former, though he does give the example of a baseball manager who handles
problems of enormous mathematical complexity through a good deal of
intuition.17 However, true to Polanyis concern, he believed polycentric
issues would often work themselves out through negotiation and mutual self-
adjustment in contract,18 within which he includes parliamentary bargaining
and trade-offs.19 Although he sees this role for politics, he is also clear that
voting by majority rule cannot resolve polycentric problems.20
17 Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review 353 at p.398,
of Law (prepared for publication from the 1958 Tentative Edition and containing an introductory
essay by W.N. Eskridge, Jr and P.P. Frickey) (Foundation Press, 1994), pp.102 et seq. [Hereinafter
Eskridge, Jr and Frickey refers to the introductory essay See generally, N. Duxbury, Patterns of
American Jurisprudence (Oxford: OUP, 1992), Ch.4.
22 Eskridge, Jr and Frickey, p.cii.
23 On institutional settlement, see Hart and Sacks, The Legal Process: Basic Problems in the Making
29 F. Hayek, Law, Legislation and Liberty: A New Restatement of the Liberal Principles of Justice and Political
Economy, Vol.2 (Routledge, 1998), p.15 (considering Polanyis distinction between monocentric and
polycentric orders similar to his own distinction between organization and spontaneous orders); R.E.
Barnett, The Structure of Liberty: Justice and the Rule of Law (Oxford: OUP, 2000), Chs 13 and 14 (using
the idea of polycentricity as a foundational concept in support of the radical privatisation of public
services). See also M. Polanyi, The Determinants of Social Action in E. Streissler et al., eds, Roads
to Freedom: Essays in Honour of Friedrich A. von Hayek (Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969), pp.145179
(comparing polycentricity and Hayeks work).
30
E. Mensch, The History of Mainstream Legal Thought in D. Kairys, ed., The Politics of Law:
A Progressive Critique (Pantheon, 1982), p.18, esp. at p.30; Duxbury, Patterns of American Jurisprudence,
pp.263264; Eskridge, Jr and Frickey, pp.cxviiicxxi.
31 C.R. Sunstein, Lochners Legacy (1987) 87 Columbia Law Review 873; see also Duxbury, Patterns
1669 at p.1789 (mentioning the word once, and proceeding, at pp.17901802, to pronounce a dead
end the suggestion that political systems can provide effective representation of interests affected by
agency regulation).
37 N.K. Komesar, Imperfect Alternatives: Choosing Institutions in Law, Economics, and Public Policy
(University of Chicago Press, 1994); Laws Limits: The Rule of Law, and the Supply and Demand of Rights
(Cambridge: CUP, 2001).
38 Among the rare recent treatments that do not reject or seriously qualify Fullers idea, see B.E.
Armacost, Affirmative Duties, Systemic Harms, and the Due Process Clause (1996) 94 Michigan
Law Review 982 at pp.10031009. More recent scholarly attention has focused on showing that
polycentricity is not only limited to public law litigation: C.F. Sabel and W.H. Simon, Destabilization
Rights: Why Public Law Litigation Succeeds (2004) 117 Harvard Law Review 1015 at pp.10561059,
1060 et seq.; or has marshalled fresh evidence demonstrating the incompatibility of the doctrine with
contemporary institutional reform litigation: E.L. Rubin and M.M. Feeley, Judicial Policy Making
and Litigation Against the Government (2003) 5 University of Pennsylvania Journal of Constitutional Law
617.
39
G. Marshall, Justiciability in A.G. Guest, ed., Oxford Essays in Jurisprudence (Oxford: OUP,
1961), p.265 at p.269.
40 Marshall, Justiciability, pp.267268. See also the excellent discussion by R. Summers,
et seq.; see also D. Galligan, Discretionary Powers: A Study of Official Discretion (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1986), p.241.
42 [1985] A.C. 374, HL.
The concern here with the narrow focus on the rights of the persons before
the court echoes Fullers concern with resolving polycentric issues in a bipolar
setting. Court of Appeal and High Court judges have applied the concept in
name,43 and elsewhere similar concerns have been raised in different words.44
While the House of Lords has generally avoided employing the concept by
name, the Privy Council recently did so to justify curtailing judicial review
of prosecutorial discretion.45 At least one judge on the European Court of
Human Rights has employed the idea,46 and it is used explicitly and commonly
by the Supreme Court of Canada to assist in determining the correct standard
of judicial review in administrative law.47
Several prominent legal scholars in Britain have endorsed Fullers analysis as
a guide to determining the justiciability of issues. Several see a direct, general
link between polycentricity and justiciability.48 J.W.F. Allison in particular has
provided a valuable analysis of polycentricity and its implications for public
law.49 While Allison has identified a number of important problems with
Fullers analysis, he also considers the doctrine to be a convincing reason for
making procedural reforms in public law.
The idea has been tied to a variety of familiar themes. Some have singled
out the notion of need (and planning disputes) as being polycentric,50 while
others have linked the idea to the commonly acknowledged need for judicial
deference to administrative expertise.51 It has been offered to determine the
justiciability of issues arising in the adjudication of negligence claims against
public authorities.52 Yet most invoke Fullers idea most often to support the
claim that resource allocation issues are or ought to be non-justiciable. Stanley
de Smith, Harry Woolf and Jeffrey Jowell, as well as Trevor Allan and David
43 R. v Home Secretary and Criminal Injuries Compensation Board Ex p. P [1995] 1 All E.R. 870, CA; R.
(on the application of Hooper) v Secretary of State for Works and Pensions [2002] EWHC Admin 191; [2002]
U.K.H.R.R. 785 at [160].
44 Poplar Housing and Regeneration Community Association Ltd v Donoghue [2001] EWCA Civ 595;
[2002] Q.B. 48 at [69] (Lord Woolf); see also R. v Cambridge Health Authority Ex p. B [1995] 2 All
E.R. 129, CA; R. (on the application of Alconbury Developments Ltd) v Secretary of State for the Environment,
Transport and the Regions [2001] UKHL 23; [2001] 2 W.L.R. 1389.
45 Mohit v Director of Public Prosecutions of Mauritius [2006] UKPC 20, [2006] 1 W.L.R. 3343 at [17];
Canada (Minister of Citizenship and Immigration) [1999] 2 S.C.R. 817 at [55]. Bastarrache J. suggested it
also be countenanced within a general theory of judicial deference, M v H [1999] 2 S.C.R. 3 at [302]
et seq., but the proposal failed to take root then or in subsequent cases.
48
Galligan, Discretionary Powers, pp.242243; C. Harlow and R. Rawlings, Law and Administration,
2nd edn (Butterworths, 1997), pp.598602; P. Cane, Administrative Law, 4th edn (Oxford: OUP,
2004), pp.5557; see also G. Richardson and M. Sunkin, Judicial Review: the Question of Impact
[1996] P.L. 79 at p.80.
49 J.W.F. Allison, Fullers Analysis of Polycentric Disputes and the Limits of Adjudication (1994)
53 C.L.J. 367; A Procedural Reason for Judicial Restraint [1994] P.L. 452; A Continental Distinction
in the Common Law: Revised Edition (Oxford: OUP, 1999), pp.204 et seq. and 36 et seq.
50 J. Jowell, The Legal Control of Administrative Discretion [1973] P.L. 178 at pp.213215.
51 R. Baldwin, Rules and Government (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), p.45.
52 C. Booth and D. Squires, The Negligence Liability of Public Authorities (Oxford: OUP, 2006)
pp.3740.
Feldman have all written that the allocation of scarce resources is a polycentric
task and therefore unsuitable for adjudication.53 However, while those who
have focused more directly on the subject of resource allocation in public law
may (or may not) acknowledge the issue, none have endorsed the idea as a
conceptual framework for assessing justiciability.54
Nearly all the studies referred to above, save those of Trevor Allan and
notably of J.W.F. Allison, simply adopt Fuller without critical assessment.
The soundness of Fullers position is simply accepted, or in the case of
Allan and Allison, analysed and then accepted in large measure. But more
recent developments suggest that cracks may be appearing in the edifice
long since abandoned in America. First, the more nuanced discussions
of resource allocation refuse to endorse the concept as determinative.55
Secondly, certain scholars who formerly advocated the idea have recently
placed less emphasis on it. Allan, for instance, has retreated somewhat from
his more unqualified earlier endorsement of the idea.56 Jowells recent
work on judicial deference has put the idea in the background,57 or
failed to mention it at all.58 Allisons nuanced discussion, by far the most
sophisticated, falls quite short of advocating polycentricity as a bright-line test
for justiciability.
Notwithstanding these growing tensions, most public law scholars continue
to accept, in varying degrees, that Fullers idea has important implications for
the justiciability of issues, particularly in resource allocation disputes. However,
53 See S. de Smith, H. Woolf and J. Jowell, Judicial Review of Administrative Action, 5th edn (Sweet
& Maxwell, 1995), pp.311312; T.R.S. Allan, Constitutional Justice: A Liberal Theory of the Rule of Law
(Oxford: OUP, 2001), pp.188192; D. Feldman, Civil Liberties and Human Rights in England and Wales,
2nd edn (Oxford: OUP, 2002), pp.229230.
54 J.A. King, The Justiciability of Resource Allocation (2007) 70 M.L.R. 197 (no discussion
of the idea); K. Syrett, Opening Eyes to the Reality of Scarce Health Care Resources? R (on the
application of Rogers) v Swindon PCT and Secretary of State for Health [2006] P.L. 664 at p.669 (noting
persistent anxieties relating to polycentricity are often rooted in an overly narrow conception
of public laws function . . .); K. Syrett, Impotence or Importance? Judicial Review in an Era
of Explicit NHS Rationing (2004) 67 M.L.R. 289 at p.295 (noting the pervasive assumption) and
p.302 (acknowledging a modest role but calling the present view regrettable); M. Chamberlain,
Democracy and Deference in Resource Allocation Cases: A Riposte to Lord Hoffman [2003] J.R.
12 at [19] (critiquing a similar idea); E. Palmer, Courts, Resources and the HRA: Reading Section 17
of the Children Act 1989 Compatibly with Article 8 ECHR (2003) 8 E.H.R.L.R. 308 (no mention);
I. Hare, Social Rights as Fundamental Human Rights in B. Hepple, ed., Social and Labour Rights in a
Global Context: International and Comparative Perspectives (Cambridge: CUP, 2002), p.153 (no mention);
E. Palmer, Resource Allocation, Welfare RightsMapping the Boundaries of Judicial Control in
Public Administrative Law (2000) 20 O.J.L.S. 63 (no mention); D. OSullivan, The Allocation of
Scarce Resources and the Right to Life Under the European Convention on Human Rights [1998]
P.L. 389 (no mention). In his discussion of resource allocation and justiciability in the context of
tort liability of public authorities, Paul Craig both avoids the use of the concept and warns against a
simplistic, categorical view about the justiciability of resource allocation: Administrative Law, 5th edn
(Sweet and Maxwell, 2004), pp.897898.
55 ibid.
56 Contrast Allan, Constitutional Justice, pp.188192 and his Human Rights and Judicial Review: A
R. Rawlings, eds, Law and Administration in Europe: Essays in Honour of Carol Harlow (Oxford: OUP,
2003), p.80, fn.45.
58 J. Jowell, Judicial deference: servility, civility or institutional capacity? [2003] P.L. 592.
Fuller conceded that polycentricity is a common feature of the law and its
relevance depends on its degree.59 His reply was that [i]t is a question
of knowing when the polycentric elements have become so significant and
predominant that the proper limits of adjudication have been reached.60 This
idea of degree is often quoted, but it seems that some commentators fail on
the one hand to follow through on its implications (Allan), and others fail to
mention it at all (De Smith et al., Feldman).61 But even accepting this notion of
degree, Fullers idea still faces many familiar counter-examples. Such examples
abound in the field of constitutional law and human rights, particularly now,
when interest balancing is an explicit function of the English judiciary.62
Allison does press this sore spot, pointing out that Fuller grudgingly accepted
the need for the desegregation decrees of the mid-1950s, though empha-
sised their serious moral drain on the integrity of adjudication.63 Other
landmark constitutional and administrative law cases including the Belmarsh
Prison case,64 Anisminic,65 Bush v Gore,66 the Canadian Patriation and Secession
references67 have all involved topics of extraordinary polycentric dimensions.
In each case there are typically weighty reasons for which the courts are willing
to engage in polycentric subject-matter. There are also of course the more
controversial judicial review cases which doubtless involved the adjudication
of heavily polycentric issues.68 European Community law as developed by
the European Court of Justice is perhaps the most strikingly polycentric. The
Court has created private rights of action,69 routinely evaluates the legitimacy
59 Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review at p.397.
60
Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review at p.397.
61 See generally de Smith, Woolf and Jowell, Judicial Review of Administrative Action; Allan,
Constitutional Justice; Feldman, Civil Liberties and Human Rights in England and Wales; but now
also Allan, Human Rights and Judicial Review (2006) C.L.J. 671.
62 R. (on the application of Daly) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2001] UKHL 21; [2001] 2
Laker Airways Ltd v Department of Trade [1977] 2 W.L.R. 234, HL; Bromley v GLC [1983] 1 A.C. 768,
HL; Hazell v Hammersmith and Fulham LBC [1992] 2 A.C. 1, HL.
69 Case 26/62 Van Gend en Loos v Nederlandse Administratie der Belastingen [1963] E.C.R. 1 (establishing
the doctrine of direct effect and conferring private rights of action upon individuals); Cases C 6 &
9/90 Francovich & Bonifaci v Italian Republic [1991] E.C.R. I-5357 (establishing the principle of state
liability). See also Cases C 46 & 48/93Brasserie du Pecheur SA v Germany and R. v Secretary of State for
Transport Ex p. Factortame (No.3) [1996] E.C.R. I-1029.
70 Case 120/78 Rewe-Zentral AG v Bundesmonopolverwaltung fur Branntwein [1979] E.C.R. 649
(establishing that commodities lawfully produced in one Member State are presumptively marketable in
others); Case 112/84 Humblot v Directeur des Services Fiscaux [1985] E.C.R. 1367 (finding that Frances
high flat tax on cars whose engines have power ratings above 16CV was an indirectly discriminatory
tax); Case 178/84 Commission v Germany [1987] E.C.R. 1227 (rejecting as unsupported by sufficient
evidence Germanys claim that its ban on additives was needed as a health precaution).
71 Case 8/74 Procureur du Roi v Benoit and Gustave Dassonville [1974] E.C.R. 837 (defining measures
equivalent to a quantitative restriction); Case 27/76 United Brands Co v Commission [1978] E.C.R.
207 (defining dominant in Art.82 EC); Case 6/72 Euroemballage Corn and Continental Can Co Ltd
[1973] E.C.R. 215 (rejecting the Commissions definition of relevant product market).
72 L. Fuller, Basic Contract Law, 5th edn (West Publishing, 1990).
73 K. Winston, ed., The Principles of Social Order: Selected Essays of Lon L. Fuller, rev. edn (Hart, 2001),
pp.187206.
74 Fuller, The Forms and Limits of Adjudication (19781979) 92 Harvard Law Review 353, at
p.404.
It is helpful to examine tax law for two reasons. First, it shows that the
judges often adjudicate highly polycentric disputes in tax cases without second-
guessing their competency to do so. Secondly, judges view themselves as
performing an important and essential role in their appellate and supervisory
jurisdictions, and many taxpayers would be slow to take that role away.
Taxpayers look to the courts to provide protection against the unilateral
75 See generally P. Atiyah, Contract and Fair Exchange (1985) University of Toronto Law Journal 1,
esp. pp.26; D. Kennedy, Form and Substance in Private Law Adjudication (1975) 89 Harvard Law
Review 1685. See also Fiss, The Supreme Court 1978 Term (1978) 93 Harvard Law Review 1 at p.43
(listing the consideration requirement and rules on offer and acceptance as examples of polycentric
norms).
76 Lord Steyn, Contract Law: Fulfilling the Reasonable Expectations of Honest Men (1997) 113
L.Q.R. 433.
77
See, e.g. Misrepresentation Act 1967; Unfair Contract Terms Act 1977; Sale of Goods Act 1979;
Unfair Terms in Consumer Contracts Regulations 1999 (SI 1999/2083).
78 See, e.g. A. Twerski, Seizing the Middle Ground between Rules and Standards in Design Defect
Litigation: Advancing Directed Verdict Practice in the Law of Torts (1982) 57 New York University
Law Review 521 at pp.551 et seq. (calling on courts to establish a polycentricity quotient in design
defect litigation).
79 Restatement (Third) of Torts (Products Liability), 2(b) (1997).
80 Komesar, Laws Limits, Ch.2.
81 Barber, A Prelude to the Separation of Powers [2001] C.L.J. 59 at p.79.
82 Fiss, The Supreme Court 1978 Term (1978) 93 Harvard Law Review 1 at p.43. In fact Fuller was
aware of the problem posed by stare decisis and recommended a relaxation of the doctrine.
83
This claim is evident in the different approaches historically taken by courts in respect of statutory
interpretation (see text to fnn.91115, below, especially fnn.114115), deference to statutory tribunals
(see Cooke v Secretary of State for Social Security [2001] EWCA Civ 734; [2002] 3 All E.R. 279;
Hinchy v Secretary of State for Works and Pensions [2005] UKHL 16; [2005] 1 W.L.R. 967) and review
for Wednesbury unreasonableness and enforcement of substantive legitimate expectations (see text to
fnn.134147 below). The key point of this section of the article is that tax law is rife with polycentricity
but the concept is not discussed.
84
Such claims may be right. But showing that polycentricity concerns should exclude courts from
tax law does not demonstrate conclusively that they should be excluded from social welfare allocation.
If one accepts that human welfare interests are more important than property interests, a separate case
may plausibly be made.
85 Sunstein, Lochners Legacy (1987) 87 Columbia Law Review 873.
86 C.R. Sunstein, Constitutionalism after the New Deal (1987) 101 Harvard Law Review 421 at
p.502.
87 The Commissioners for Inland Revenue and Customs Act 2005 amalgamated the Inland Revenue
and Her Majestys Customs and Excise into a single governmental department, namely, Her Majestys
Revenue and Customs (HMRC). For ease of reference and understanding of past case law, this section
shall refer to the Board or Revenue and the general conclusions reached apply to equally to the
HMRC.
88 See J. Tiley, Tax Avoidance Jurisprudence as Normal Law [2004] B.T.R. 304 at p.310.
89 Tiley, Tax Avoidance Jurisprudence as Normal Law [2004] B.T.R. 304 at pp.310311.
as noted by Tiley. Yet there are not widespread calls for Parliament to
recall the courts from this domain of law, likely for the reasons made
clear below. Indeed, the more vociferous calls have been for greater judicial
activism in addressing the problem of tax avoidance.90 It is not suggested
here that courts pay no deference to the Revenue or tax tribunals. It is
clear that they do. But what becomes clearer in the following treatment
is that they do so far less than in review of public resource allocation
decisions.
90 E. Simpson, The Ramsay Principle: A Curious Incident of Judicial Reticence? [2004] B.T.R.
358.
91 H. Monroe, Intolerable Inquisition? Reflections on the Law of Tax (Stevens & Sons, 1981).
92 For more recent functions see I. Saunders, Taxation: Judicial Review and other Remedies (John Wiley
& Sons, 1996), pp.66 et seq.
93 Monroe, Intolerable Inquisition? Reflections on the Law of Tax, pp.910 (comparing it with the
administrative tribunals discussed in Harry Streets Justice in the Welfare State (Stevens & Sons, 1968)).
94
Monroe, Intolerable Inquisition? Reflections on the Law of Tax, pp.910.
95 Partington v Att Gen (1869) L.R. 4 E. & I. App. H.L. 100.
96 [1936] A.C. 1, HL.
those devising tax schemes: [m]any cases have been decided in favour of the
taxpayer recently.97 With this background in mind, it will be enlightening to
consider an example of interpreting a tax statute.
Inland Revenue Commissioners v Laird Group Plc98 involved a tax appeal in
which the House of Lords rejected the Revenues submission that a payment
of a dividend on ordinary shares was a transaction relating to securities
within the meaning of s.703 of the Income and Corporations Taxes Act
1988. In giving the leading speech in which all Law Lords concurred, Lord
Millett analysed the inconclusive authorities relating to the matter and then
turned his attention to the kind of relationship [between the transaction and
the securities] that Parliament had in mind.99 The meaning of the terms
was defined in s.709(2) of the Act as including transactions of whatever
description relating to securities. Their Lordships had held earlier that these
terms were to receive the the widest meaning.100 In the Laird litigation,
nearly every tribunal and court below the House of Lords answered the
question differently. In other words, there was substantial disagreement as to
the legal meaning of these words. Furthermore, it was widely assumed by
courts, the Revenue, and taxpayers that dividends were indeed transactions
relating to securities.101
Lord Millett placed emphasis on the fact that the word securities was
capable of a broad meaning, and that if the words at issue were interpreted too
broadly they would encompass certain types of transactions that in his view
should not be covered (such as payment of interest on a debenture). Secondly,
he held that Parliament intended to exclude liquidations of companies from
within the meaning of transactions relating to securities. He accepted the
submission that the reason for excluding liquidations from the definition was
that such a distribution was not an alteration of the shares or of any rights
attached to such shares, but was rather merely giving effect to the rights that
already existed. In other words, the sum belongs to them already; they receive
what is already theirs.102 He found that the position should be no different
while the company is a going concern.103
But the Court of Appeal had taken a different view over whether in fact
the two situations were analogous.104 It found that the shareholder had no
right to the dividends until declared by the directors. Lord Millett rejected this
reasoning by finding that by declaring a dividend, the directors effectively
release funds due to the shareholders from their [the shareholders] power to
retain them in the business.105 One tax lawyer points out that [o]ne might
97 J. Freedman, Defining Taxpayer Responsibility: In Support of a General Anti-Avoidance
imagine the Court of Appeal feeling a little aggrieved with [this] reasoning.106
He found it unrealistic to view a minority shareholder as having a right to
dividends in the suggested way.
The issue decided by the House of Lords was polycentric. Whether the
payment of a dividend on ordinary shares ought to be a tax advantage that can
be counteracted by the Revenue is a highly polycentric issue, with complex
and interdependent legal, market and Treasury consequences. The words of
the statute did not settle the matter in any reasonably objective way, so the
decision cannot be explained by the idea of merely giving effect to the statute.
The courts and tribunals were required to look beyond the words of the statute
to Parliamentary intentions, and the nature and scheme of the Act, as well
as unstated or stated policy concerns, to resolve the issue. Deciding whether
payment of a dividend on ordinary shares ought to be a transaction relating
to securities within the meaning of a tax statute called for an application of
(perhaps weak) judicial discretion.107 Indeed, though perhaps some distance
from Lord Mustills considered judgment, Lord Diplock was without doubt as
to this judicial role:
The court may describe what it is doing in tax appeals as interpretation.
So did the priestess of the Delphic oracle. But whoever has final authority
to explain what Parliament meant by the words that it used makes law as
much as if the explanation it has given were contained in a new Act of
Parliament.108
Bennion also acknowledges that Parliament delegates by implication the
power to work out meaning.109 This much being understood, it is important
to think about the subject-matter. Regarding the intention to be attributed
to taxing statutes generally, Professor Freedman points out that governments
use tax systems to try to achieve multiple objectivesmacro- and micro-
economic and social management.110 Thus interpreting the purpose of a
portion of tax legislation will often, as in this case, require the court to take a
discretionary position on a highly polycentric matter.
One might argue that such cases involve statutory interpretation and that
some institution must determine the final meaning. Then why not the
Revenue? It is a form of discretion that could have been left to the Revenue,
or the Revenue in conjunction with its specialist tribunals. Later in this section,
we will examine the reasons for which this has not occurred.
It is helpful to compare this approach to the one taken in interpreting some
social welfare legislation. In R. v Hillingdon LBC Ex p. Puhlhofer,111 their
106
Kent, Dividends not Transactions in Securities After All [2004] B.T.R. 181 at p.184.
107 On judicial discretion, and on weak discretion, see R. Dworkin, Taking Rights Seriously
(Harvard University Press, 1977), pp.3139; see also H.L.A. Hart, The Concept of Law, 2nd edn
(Oxford: OUP, 1994), Ch.VII and pp.272276.
108 Lord Diplock, The Courts as Legislators Holdsworth Club Lecture, 1965 (quoted in M. Zander,
The Law Making Process, 5th edn (Cambridge: CUP, 2004), p.212).
109
F.A.R. Bennion, Statutory Interpretation, 4th edn (Butterworths, 2002), p.414.
110 Freedman, Defining Taxpayer Responsibility [2004] B.T.R. 332 at pp.343344.
111 [1986] 1 A.C. 485, HL.
Lordships refused to quash the decision of a local authority finding that a small
room without facilities at a guest house constituted accommodation for a
family of four within the meaning of the Housing (Homeless Persons) Act
1977. Lord Brightman held, for all the Law Lords, that [w]hat is properly
to be regarded as accommodation is a question of fact to be decided by the
local authority. There are no rules.112 Later in his speech, he laid down the
principle for the courts to follow in similar cases:
Where the existence or non-existence of a fact is left to the judgment
and discretion of a public body and that fact involves a broad spectrum
ranging from the obvious to the debatable to the just conceivable, it is the
duty of the court to leave the decision of that fact to the public body to
whom Parliament has entrusted the decision making power save in a case
where it is obvious that the public body. . .are acting perversely.113
Setting aside the question of whether it was reasonable in Ex p. Puhlhofer
to consider the question as one of fact,114 this approach is notably different
from the one employed in tax appeals. It is also far from an unrepresentative
sample. This view of the respective role of courts and public authorities in
cases involving social welfare allocation has been widespread among judges.115
A strong judicial attitude of deference to social security tribunals on appealed
points of law appears equally at odds with the approach to tax tribunal
judgments.116
(Pinter, 1998) p.158 at p.162 (explaining the role of the court in defining accommodation).
115 See, e.g. Southwark LBC v Williams and Southwark LBC v Anderson [1971] Ch. 734 at 740,
CA (It cannot have been intended by Parliament that every person who was in need of temporary
accommodation should be able to sue the local authority for it); R. v Bristol Corp Ex p. Hendy [1974] 1
W.L.R. 498 at 502, CA (the duty to secure accommodation placed upon the local authority is a duty
to act reasonably.); Din v Wandsworth LBC [1983] 1 A.C. 657, HL (persons homeless intentionally
if they vacate former premises upon receipt of distress warrant for rent arrears instead of waiting
for eviction order); R. v Inner London Education Authority Ex p. Ali (1990) 2 Admin. L.R. 822, QB
(councils duty to ensure availability of sufficient schools a target duty not enforceable by individuals);
Rolls v Dorset CC [1995] Q.B. 158, CA (the meaning of gypsies is for the local authority to decide);
R. v Gloucestershire CC Ex p. Barry [1997] A.C. 584, HL (availability of public resources is relevant to
defining someones need). For many other examples, see J.A.G. Griffith, The Politics of the Judiciary,
5th edn (Fontana Press, 1997), Ch.4.
116 Cooke v Secretary of State for Social Security [2001] EWCA Civ 734; [2002] 3 All E.R. 279 (Hale
L.J., as she then was); Hinchy v Secretary of State for Works and Pensions [2005] UKHL 16; [2005] 1
W.L.R. 967 at [49], [57] (Baroness Hale).
117 [1961] 3 All E.R. 641, QB.
140
[1996] S.T.C. 681 at 696 (Simon Brown L.J.).
141 [1996] S.T.C. 681 at 695.
142 [1996] S.T.C. 681 at 695.
143 See, e.g. R. v National Lottery Commission Ex p. Camelot Group Plc [2001] E.M.L.R. 3 at [68] et
Forsyth, Wednesbury Protection of Substantive Legitimate Expectations [1997] P.L. 375 at p.382.
from lawyers and others faced by the income tax system is the overarching theme of the Lectures.
154 G.S.A. Wheatcroft, The Attitude of the Legislature and the Courts to Tax Avoidance (1955)
155 H.W.R. Wade and C. Forsyth, Administrative Law, 9th edn (Oxford: OUP, 2004), pp.354356.
156 Padfield v Minister of Agriculture [1968] A.C. 997, HL; Anisminic Ltd v Foreign Compensation
Commission [1969] 2 A.C. 147, HL.
157 [1986] 1 A.C. 485, HL.
158 [1984] A.C. 474 at 514, HL.
159
Tiley, Tax Avoidance Jurisprudence as Normal Law [2004] B.T.R. 304 at p.330.
160 Chamberlain, Democracy and Deference in Resource Allocation Cases [2003] J.R. 12.
161 Monroe, Intolerable Inquisition? Reflections on the Law of Tax, p.64: (Judges can no longer be relied
deficits in those areas as well. In all such cases, courts are often willing to
take a harder look at the facts, possibly introduce a strained construction, or
apply an open-textured concept such as fairness or reasonableness in a
more searching or demanding way. This suggests further that an honestly held
view that social rights are human rights would make a real difference in legal
practice.
While Fuller set out to show that polycentric problems demarcated the limits
of adjudication, he rather managed to identify a pervasive feature of the law.
Furthermore, the pervasiveness of polycentricity has only increased over time.
It is a feature of many areas of adjudication. The topic of tax law provided an
interesting insight into the judicial treatment of polycentric subject matter. It
showed both how and why courts adjudicate polycentric issues, and also how
the moral standards of society can influence what institutional role we feel
courts ought to perform.
This analysis leads to either of two conclusions. The first would be that the
concept should fade to obsolescence in favour of more sophisticated analyses
of judicial competence. This has been the general approach in America.163
A second approach would be to refine the doctrine to render it more
consistent with the role of courts in contemporary society. In my view, such a
refinement would need to meet three objectives: to clarify that polycentricity
is a property of issues and not areas of law, thus pre-empting the tendency
towards inconsistency between areas of law; to explain when it is that a legal
issue is polycentric, and explain away what appear to be obvious counter-
examples (such as the enforcement of a clear statute); and to explain why courts
adjudicate certain polycentric issues, whether this is justified, and if so how to
minimise the negative impact of such a process. This last refinement would
need to explain what countervailing factors attenuate or offset the concerns
raised by the adjudication of polycentric issues. The proper articulation and
defence of such a reformulation goes beyond what could be offered in the
present article.164
While these two options remain open, it should be clear that another is
firmly closed. The idea of polycentricity cannot presently be relied upon
without serious contradiction to justify judicial restraint in public law. Judges
and scholars will need either to abandon the doctrine, recast it in a more
defensible form, or radically change the role of adjudication in contemporary
legal practice.
Conor OMahony
Lecturer in Law, University College Cork
1
J. Jowell, Judicial deference: servility, civility or institutional capacity? [2003] P.L. 592 at p.597.
2 This paper has its origins in a paper presented by the author at the 4th World Congress on
Family Law and Childrens Rights in Cape Town, South Africa, March 2023, 2005. The author is
grateful for the comments offered by Katherine Williams and Ann Sherlock of the University of Wales,
Aberystwyth.
3 The closest provision to a constitutional right to education in the UK is Art.2 of Protocol No.1
to the ECHR, as incorporated into domestic law by the Human Rights Act 1998; the limited scope
of this provision when compared with the right to education under the Irish Constitution is discussed
below.
4 The Irish Constitution of 1937 is an entrenched document and can only be amended by legislation
passed in parliament and ratified in a majority vote in a referendum: see Arts 46 and 47. Article 42
confers a right to free primary education on children, and case law has defined this education such
that it should allow children to make the best possible use of their capacities, however limited those
capacities may be. This basic right is bolstered by a number of related rights and provisions, and
extensive provision is also made for parental rights in education. Although other economic and social
rights such as those relating to housing and healthcare are dealt with in the non-justiciable Directive
Principles of Social Policy in Art.45, education is given a separate, justiciable provision of its own. See
generally C. OMahony, Educational Rights in Irish Law (Dublin: Thomson Round Hall, 2006).
5 Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, The Right to Education (Art.13), General
obvious way. These include the right to vote, which is fatally undermined in
the absence of an adequate education. The uneducated will have little chance
of exercising a fully informed vote; this has been recognised by US Supreme
Court in the case of Plyler v Doe when the Court stated that . . . some
degree of education is necessary to prepare citizens to participate effectively
and intelligently in our open political system if we are to preserve freedom
and independence.6 Similar arguments can be constructed in relation to the
right to the enjoyment of the highest attainable standard of health, for which
education in nutrition, hygiene, environmental sanitation, accident prevention,
family planning and the dangers of communicable diseases and infections is
essential.7
The fundamental nature of the right to education stems also from its inherent
connection to human dignity. The central role that the ideal of human
dignity plays in the human rights movement is illustrated by its invocation
in the Preamble to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR)8 ;
interestingly, this step was taken 11 years previously in the Preamble to the
Irish Constitution,9 and it has been argued that human dignity is, along with
freedom, the most fundamental of all values under the Irish Constitution.10
There can be no doubt that education has a fundamental connection to
human dignity; it brings about basic life skills such as communication and
self-reliance, in the absence of which dignity is hugely undermined. Article
13(1) of the International Covenant on Economic, Cultural and Social Rights
(ICESCR) recognises this connection by stating that education should be
directed to the full development of the human personality and the sense of its
dignity.
The importance of education in this context is further amplified in the field of
special educational needs, where even the most basic elements of human dignity
are sometimes only attainable pursuant to intensive and ongoing education.
Mary Warnock has described the difference that education can make to
a severely disabled child as the difference between self-determination, or
freedom, albeit extremely limited, and total dependency and indifference to
the real world.11 Thus it is clear that the full realisation of human dignity
is inherently connected to the provision of adequate education for all. The
fact that education is essential to the pursuit of one of the central values of
human rights law as a whole clearly shows that education is one of the more
fundamental rights.
family [as] the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world. . ..
9 The preamble of the Irish Constitution states that . . .the people of Eire. . .seeking to promote
the common good. . .so that the dignity and freedom of the individual may be assured. . ..
10
See generally J. ODowd, Dignity and Personhood in Irish Constitutional Law in G. Quinn,
A. Ingram and S. Livingstone, eds, Justice and Legal Theory in Ireland (Dublin: Oak Tree Press, 1995),
pp.163181.
11 H.M. Warnock, Nature & Mortality: Recollections of a philosopher in public life (London: Continuum,
2003), p.45.
12D. Hodgson, The Human Right to Education (Aldershot: Dartmouth, 1998), pp.6364.
13N. Osborough, Review of Farrys Education and the Constitution [2000] XXXV Irish Jurist 416.
The difficulty of achieving a balance between the interests of children and parents has been discussed
A second unique aspect of the right to education is the fact that unlike other
rights, its exercise is compulsory.14 This has the result of creating rights and
duties for all parties15 unlike other rights, which create a right for one party
and a corresponding duty for another. Of course, the fact that there are rights
and duties for three parties as opposed to two complicates this even further.
A further complication with regard to the right to education is that it is
extremely difficult to classify into one of the so-called generations of rights.
While many rights are labelled as being civil and political rights, economic
and social rights or group rights, and some rights fall within two of these
generations, Manfred Nowak has remarked that education is probably the only
right which reveals aspects falling under all three generations.16 Education is
clearly a classic economic and social right, in the sense that it is a positive
entitlement to receive a service from the state. Its civil and political aspect
includes parental rights with respect to religious, philosophical and cultural
education, as well as its connection, discussed above, to the ability to exercise
civil and political liberties such as the right to vote. Finally, in the context of
education as a group right, Natan Lerner has cogently observed:
As far as groups are concerned, the very preservation of the existence of
the group may be related to the right to education . . . it is clear that a
group will see its future threatened if it is deprived of the right to ensure
its members an education in accordance with its traditions or beliefs, or
in its own language.17
This confusion between civil and political rights and economic and social rights
in particular creates a number of practical difficulties for the legal protection
of the right to education. The economic and social aspect of the right leads to
much opposition to the notion of making it a justiciable element of a Bill of
in G. Van Bueren, Education: Whose Right is it Anyway? in L. Heffernan, ed., Human Rights: A
European Perspective (Dublin: Round Hall, 1994), pp.339 et seq. and OMahony, Educational Rights in
Irish Law, pp.91103.
14 The principle of compulsory primary education is set out in Art.26(1) of the UDHR, Art.13(2)(a)
of the ICESCR and Art.28(1)(a) of the UNCRC, and has been held to be permissible under the
ECHR in Family H. v UK (1984) D.R. 37 at 105. In England and Wales, compulsory education is
provided for by ss.78 of the Education Act 1996. In Ireland, compulsory education is provided for by
Art.42.3.2 of the Constitution and s.17(1) of the Education (Welfare) Act 2000.
15 Although compulsory education is normally enforced through the imposition of a duty on the
parents rather than on the child, it may be argued that the child has a duty to be educated, and that legal
systems simply impose this duty vicariously on the parents of the child as it is legally expedient to do this
as opposed to attempting to impose criminal sanctions directly on the child for failing to attend school.
See the contrasting discussion carried out on this point by M. Nowak, The Right to Education in A.
Eide, C. Krause and A. Rosas, eds, Economic, Social and Cultural Rights: A Textbook (London: Kluwer,
1995), p.197 and Van Bueren, Education: Whose Right is it Anyway?, p.341. Whether or not this
argument is accepted, the point being made is still validthe existence of rights and duties for both
parents and the State in respect of education certainly gives rise to added complications for the legal
provision for the right to education.
16 Nowak, The Right to Education, p.196.
17 N. Lerner, Group Rights and Discrimination in International Law (Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff, 1991),
p.147.
Rights, due to the resource implications of such a step.18 It is for this reason
that the right was originally omitted from the ECHR, and when subsequently
included, it was formulated in negative terms which do not require the State
to provide any education at all, stating that [n]o person shall be denied the
right to education.19
The limited nature of the right to education under Art.2 of Protocol No.1
to the ECHR would seem to stem from this confusion in its classification;
its eventual inclusion in what is largely a civil and political rights instrument
was very much in a civil and political formati.e. a right not to be denied
somethingand this overlooked the economic and social aspect of the right,
undermining its scope and effectiveness. In the Irish context, the right overcame
the initial hurdle of inclusion in the Constitution; however, its complex nature
has led to its occupying an anomalous position within the fundamental rights
scheme of the Irish Constitution,20 which has in turn had negative ramifications
for the remedies available for a breach of the right, thus undermining the true
extent of its justiciability.21 Thus it can be seen how confusion surrounding the
classification of the right to education as civil and political or economic and
social can, indirectly, have a detrimental impact on the practical enforcement
of the right.
In summary, therefore, education is a right which falls under all three
generations of rights; it is tripartite and its exercise is compulsory. It has been
shown above how the complexity of these aspects of the right to education
creates practical difficulties for the legal protection of the right. The most
fundamental nature of the right, which was set out above, dictates that it
is imperative that these difficulties be overcome, and that it is essential that
the right to education be given the highest form of protection that the law
can offer. Furthermore, any entrenched constitutional right must be well
formulated; analysis of the provisions of the Irish Constitution shows how
a badly formulated constitution can, when entrenched, lead to intractable
18 Some commentators would dispute whether economic and social rights should ever be legally
protected, or even whether they can properly be described as rights; see, e.g. M. Cranston, Human
Rights, Real and Supposed in D. Raphael, ed., Political Theory and the Rights of Man (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 1967), pp.4353. The contrary argument has been well set out by G.J.H. Van
Hoof, The Legal Nature of Economic, Social and Cultural Rights: A Rebuttal of Some Traditional
Views in P. Alston and K. Tomasevski, eds, The Right to Food (Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff, 1984),
pp.97110.
19
The limited nature of the right to education under Art.2 of Protocol No.1 to the ECHR can be
seen in cases such as the Belgian Linguistic Case (197980) 1 E.H.R.R. 252 and McIntyre v UK (App.
No. 29046/95), October 21, 1998. See further Mountfield, The Implications of the Human Rights
Act 1998 for the Law of Education [2000] E.L.J. 146.
20 The education rights under Art.42 of the Irish Constitution are the only economic and social
rights to be given a justiciable provision in the fundamental rights scheme of the Constitution; other
economic and social issues such as housing are relegated to the non-justiciable Directive Principles
of Social Policy of Art.45 which itself expressly provides that the principles set down therein shall
be the care of the Oireachtas [Irish Parliament] exclusively, and shall not be cognisable by any Court
under any of the provisions of this Constitution.
21 See TD v Minister for Education [2001] 4 I.R. 259, as discussed in C. OMahony, Education,
difficulties,22 and indeed that even reasonably well formulated provisions can
be interpreted in an undesirable way.23
While these latter points could be taken as indicating that it is better
not to constitutionalise the right to education, the difficulties of drafting are
not insurmountable, and while the danger does exist that provisions will
be badly interpreted, the same can be said of all legal sources. Ultimately,
the benefits of the protection provided by an entrenched and justiciable
constitutional right to educationparticularly in respect of resources (as will
now be discussed)probably outweigh the potential difficulties which may
arise and which could, in any event, be ironed out through a combination of
amendment and alternative interpretation.
Turning away from these theoretical reasons for constitutionalising the right
to education to more practical matters, perhaps the most compelling reason
that can be offered for placing the right to education on a constitutional footing
relates to the nature of the legal duty which such a provision places on the State
to provide resources. If a constitutional right to education is justiciable and is
drafted in a manner free from resource constraints, as is the case under the Irish
Constitution,24 this would shield educational funding from the political and
economic demands of any given moment.
The vindication of the right to education is, of course, expensive, particularly
in the context of special educational needs. It will always be an extremely
tempting target for funding cutbacks in times of economic hardship or when
political priorities lie elsewhere. This is a situation which should be prevented
at all costs. In purely economic terms, it should be noted that education
contributes enormously to the economic development of society; any attempt
to save money by cutting funding to education is simply a false economy.25
An even greater danger applies to special educational provision as the most
expensive type of education per head, but also the type which affects the least
number of people; its expensive nature and lack of electoral impact dictate
that it will always be a prime target for spending cutbacks. In human terms,
given the importance of education to the dignity of individuals with special
educational needs, this should not be allowed to happen; furthermore, it should
22 A prime example of this is the exclusion of extra-marital families from the ambit of protection of
Arts 41 and 42, on which see OMahony, Educational Rights in Irish Law, pp.4456.
23 See, e.g. the discussion of the age-limitations on entitlements in F. Ryan, Disability and the
Right to Education: Defining the Constitutional Child (2002) 24 D.U.L.J. 96; the discussion of the
balance between the interests of children and parents in OMahony, Educational Rights in Irish Law,
pp.91103; and the discussion of remedies and the separation of powers in OMahony, Education,
Remedies and the Separation of Powers (2002) 24 D.U.L.J. 57.
24 It has been held on a number of occasions that resource considerations do not apply to the States
duty to vindicate constitutional rightssee, e.g. Costello J. in OReilly v Limerick Corp [1989] I.L.R.M.
181 at 193 and Barr J. in Sinnott v Minister for Education [2001] 2 I.R. 545 at 568.
25 See J. Kelly, Education and the Irish State, annexed to G. Whyte, Education and the
Constitution: Convergence of Paradigm and Praxis [199092] XXV-XXVII Irish Jurist 69 at 8485:
. . . a modern state, which cannot escape the consequences of modern techniques and modern
ambition, is exposing its population to poverty and exposing itself to disintegration unless it maintains a
certain level of universal education . . . The State cannot allow its citizens to remain ignorant, because
for very good reasons it cannot afford to.
be pointed out that there is research which suggests that intensive education
even for severely disabled children may have economic benefits in the long
term.26
Under a simple legislative framework, it is all too easy for a government to
reduce the level of educational provision which is made available. Education
legislation itself often contains an in-built resource qualification; however,
even if it does not, express or (possibly) even implied repeal of the statute by a
simple parliamentary majority will suffice to make any reductions in provision
which the government seeks. The presence of a justiciable constitutional right
to education which is free from resource constraints provides protection against
this possibility, as it cannot be eroded as easily as legislation, and it also provides
a standard against which legislation can be judged. Furthermore, and most
significantly, a lack of resources will not justify a failure to vindicate the right.
This advantage was neatly summarised in relation to the Irish Constitution by
Barr J. in the High Court in Sinnott v Minister for Education:
A citizens constitutional right must be responded to by the State in full.
A partial response has no justification in law, even in difficult financial
circumstances which may entail the raising of new tax revenue to meet
such claimshappily a situation which has not pertained for several
years.27
In practical terms, few more compelling arguments could be presented in
favour of an entrenched and justiciable right to education.
To summarise, therefore, the right to education is a most fundamental human
right; however, its vindication is made extremely difficult by its complex nature.
The combination of these factors indicate that it is desirable that the right be
given the highest form of protection that the law can offer, which is an
entrenched and justiciable constitutional right to education. Furthermore, such
a provision, if formulated in a manner which is free from resource constraints,
can ensure that the necessary resources are always available to vindicate the
right to education for all children, and prevent the political and economic
demands of the day interfering with education funding. These are all important
reasons in favour of the adoption of a constitutional right to education,
and in considering special educational needs law in the Irish context, these
arguments can easily be made in favour of retaining the constitutional right
to education in the Irish Constitution. However, in England and Wales, the
matter is somewhat more complicated, given that that jurisdiction falls under
the unwritten UK constitution and the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty.
26 D. Boyle and E. Burton, Making Sense of SEN: The Role of the Voluntary Sector [2004]
E.L.J. 15, who comment at 16 and 24 on the financial cost to society of failing to make adequate
educational provision for children with special educational needs. They cite research from the Centre
for the Economics of Mental Health (K. Jarbrink, M. Knaap et al., The Cost of Autistic Spectrum Disorder,
Foundation for People with Learning Disabilities, 2000) which suggests that the lifetime cost to the
public purse of a child with autism is about 3 million, but that even moderate improvements in
educational provision could potentially result in major savings in later living costs.
27 [2001] 2 I.R. 545 at 568.
Thus, there are a number of important arguments which have been presented
against a constitutional bill of rights which now fall to be considered.
28 See JUSTICE, A Bill of Rights for Britain? (JUSTICE, London, 2007) and F. Klug, A Bill of
Rights: Do We Need One or Do We Already Have One? [2007] P.L. 701. The Joint Committee on
Human Rights is currently inquiring into whether a Bill of Rights is needed for Britain and issued a
call for evidence in this regard on May 22, 2007.
29
See A. Bradley and K. Ewing, Constitutional and Administrative Law, 13th edn (London: Longman,
2003), p.75 for a discussion of the connection between parliamentary sovereignty and representative
democracy.
30 Historically, parliamentary sovereignty developed as a result of the shift of power from a hereditary
monarch to an elected Parliament. A.V. Dicey, Introduction to the Study of the Law of the Constitution,
10th edn (London: MacMillan & Co Ltd, 1960), hinted at this at p.470 when stating that parliamentary
sovereignty came about through a gradual transfer of power from the Crown to a body which has
come more and more to represent the nation. While it may have originally have been a mechanism
for subjugating the Royals to the will of Parliament, the ultimate rationale underlying the doctrine
is surely that of protecting democracy. Dicey would seem to suggest as much (Dicey, Introduction to
the Study of the Law of the Constitution, (1960)) at pp.7274 where he sets out the distinction between
the legal sovereignty of Parliament and the political sovereignty of the electorate, stating that the
arrangements of the constitution are now such as to ensure that the will of the electors shall by regular
and constitutional means always in the end assert itself as the predominant influence in the country.
that even Parliament cannot change to suit its whim or policy. Under
that vision of democracy, a bill of individual constitutional rights is
part of fundamental law, and judges, who are not elected and who are
therefore removed from the pressures of partisan politics, are responsible
for interpreting and enforcing that bill of rights as they are for all other
parts of the legal system.32
Similar sentiments have been expressed by H.L.A. Hart,33 Michael Zander,34
Sir Stephen Sedley35 and Sir John Laws:
It is a condition of democracys preservation that the power of a
democratically elected governmentor Parliamentbe not absolute . . .
the citizens democratic rights go hand in hand with other fundamental
rights; the latter, certainly, may in reality be more imaginably at risk, in
any given set of political circumstances, than the former. The point is that
both are or should be off limits for our elected representatives. They are
not matters upon which, in a delegated democracya psephocracythe
authority of the ballot-box is any authority at all.36
Indeed, this issue has been the subject of judicial comment in Ireland; in the
seminal case of Ryan v Att Gen, Kenny J. in the High Court observed that
Art.40 of the Irish Constitution is:
. . . in many ways the most important in the Constitution, for Art.5
declares that Ireland is a democratic State and what can be more important
in a democratic State than the personal rights of the citizens . . .37
Even accepting that a bill of rights is not of itself undemocratic, but is in fact an
important element of a democratic society, there are those who would argue
that the inclusion of a justiciable economic and social right such as the right
to education would be undemocratic. This relates to the fact that such a right
would tie the hands of elected officials as to the allocation of resources; it is
argued that this is a matter which is properly the domain of elected officials
since they, unlike the courts, are able to consider the competing demands of
all that may claim the resources, rather than the claims of individual litigants
in isolation.38 Again, however, it is possible to rebut the argument that the
right to education should be excluded from a bill of rights by recalling that,
as noted above, education supports democracy by enhancing the ability of
the electorate to make fully informed decisions. A comprehensive study on
the entire issue of the constitutionalisation of economic and social rights
has been conducted by Cecile Fabre; she argues that since the right to an
adequate education is a fundamental feature of the concept of democracy and
32 R. Dworkin, A Bill of Rights for Britain (London: Chatto & Windus, 1990), p.13.
33 H.L.A Hart, Law, Liberty, and Morality (London: OUP, 1963), pp.7781.
34 M. Zander, A Bill of Rights?, 4th edn (London: Sweet & Maxwell, 1997), p.viii.
35 Sir Stephen Sedley, The Common Law and the Constitution in Lord Nolan and Sir Stephen
Sedley, eds, The Making and Remaking of the British Constitution (London: Blackstone Press, 1997), p.5.
36
Sir John Laws, Law and Democracy [1995] P.L. 72 at pp.8590.
37 [1965] I.R. 294 at 310.
38 See, e.g. M. Walzer, Philosophy and Democracy (1981) 9 Political Theory 379 at pp.391392.
expressed by G. Quinn, Rethinking the Nature of Economic, Social and Cultural Rights in the Irish
Legal Order in C. Costello (ed.), Fundamental Social Rights: Current European Legal Protection & the
Challenge of the EU Charter on Fundamental Rights (Dublin: Irish Centre for European Law, 2000), p.41.
43 K. Lynch and A. Connolly, Equality before the Law in Report of the Constitution Review Group
1 I.R. 409; Comerford v Minister for Education [1997] 2 I.L.R.M. 134; Sinnott v Minister for Education
[2001] 2 I.R. 545; TD v Minister for Education [2000] 3 I.R. 62 (High Court); [2001] 4 I.R. 259
(Supreme Court). G. Hogan, Directive Principles, Socio-Economic Rights and the Constitution
[2001] XXXVI Irish Jurist 174 comments at p.184 that it is not an exaggeration to say that the courts
have almost been overwhelmed with hundreds of actions dealing with a huge range of educational
issues.
48 The legal framework for special educational needs is set out in Pt IV of the Education Act 1996,
as amended by the Special Educational Needs and Disability Act 2001 and the Education Act 2002.
For a general overview of this framework see S. Oliver and L. Austen, Special Educational Needs and
the Law (Bristol: Jordans, 1996) or J. Friel and D. Hay, Special Educational Needs and the Law (London:
Sweet & Maxwell, 1996). Children whose special education needs are such that the local education
authority is required, under s.324 of the Education Act 1996, to determine the special educational
provision that is to be made for the child, are made subject to a statement of special educational needs
which sets out the special educational provision that is to be made for that child. The local education
authority owes a personal duty to the child to arrange the special educational provision specified in the
statement, and consequently the child has a statutory right to that provision. On the other hand, a large
number of children with less severe special educational needs are not made subject to a statement of
needs may result in the needs of the few outweighing the needs of the many.49
As will be explained in more detail below, this may occur where the full
vindication of the rights of some children results in a lack of resources for the
vindication of the rights of those who do not go to the same lengths to secure
them.
Blairs argument is based upon an application of welfare law analytical models
to the legal framework for special educational needs in England and Wales.
A full discussion of these theories would be outside the scope of the current
discussion, which is intended only to address the issue of balancing individual
and collective interests in the context of the operation of a constitutional right
to education and the impact of such a provision on the legal provision for special
educational needs. Blair makes particular use of a classification which was set
out by Jerry Mashaw, under which there are three models of administrative
systems designed to allocate resources.50 The Bureaucratic Rationality model
involves matching a claimants circumstances to pre-determined categories of
need. The Professional Treatment model involves using professional judgment
to make individual assessments of need. Finally, the Moral Judgment model
involves adversarial claims against resources which are judged using judicial
concepts of fairness. Blair proceeds on the basis of Michael Adlers simplification
of Mashaws classification, which states that the first model relies on a system
of rules, the second on a system of discretion and the third on a system of
rights.51
In the context of the system in England and Wales, the rights-based model
can really only be seen in operation in relation to statemented children who,
if not provided with their entitlements under their statement, can take a
case to the Special Educational Needs and Disability Tribunal or the courts.
The all-important assessment procedure would seem to be predominantly an
illustration of the discretion-based Professional Treatment model, while the
provision made for unstatemented children in accordance with the Code of
Practice is perhaps a combination of the Professional Treatment model with
the rules-based Bureaucratic Rationality model. The Irish system,52 with its
overarching constitutional right and statutory assessment scheme, would seem
special educational needs, and have no enforceable statutory right to special educational provision. See
R. v Secretary of State for Education and Science Ex p. Lashford [1988] 1 F.L.R. 72 and R. v Harrow LBC
Ex p. M [1997] E.L.R. 62, as well as L. Lundy, Stating a case for the unstatementedchildren with
special educational needs in mainstream schools [1998] 10 C.F.L.Q. 39.
49 A. Blair, Rights, duties and resources: the case of special educational needs (2000) 12 E. & L.
includes a right to special educational provision, to which has now been added a detailed statutory
framework for assessing educational needs and preparing enforceable education plans to meet those
needs (which are similar to statements in England and Wales). See OMahony, Educational Rights in
Irish Law, pp.156199.
53 See Blair, Rights, duties and resources (2000) 12 E. & L. 177 at pp.183185.
54 Blair, Rights, duties and resources (2000) 12 E. & L. 177 at pp.186187.
55 J. Tweedie, Rights in social programmes: the case of parental choice in schools [1986] P.L. 407
at p.434, cited by Blair, Rights, duties and resources (2000) 12 E. & L. 177 at p.188. A similar point
is made by Fabre, Social Rights under the Constitution, p.176.
56 Blair, Rights, duties and resources (2000) 12 E. & L. 177 at p.190. On this point, see further
61
A slight technical point in relation to the drafting of s.13 of the Education for Persons with Special
Educational Needs Act 2004 has left some slight doubt as to whether the terms of the Act will prove
to be fully enforceable in the event of a court dispute; see OMahony, Educational Rights in Irish Law,
pp.256259.
62 The Report of the Constitution Review Group (Dublin: Stationery Office, 1996), states at p.355
that the Constitution should, where possible, endeavour to state propositions at a sufficient level of
generality to permit evolution and development.
contrasting demands of the various levels and types of education, from pre-
school to higher level, and particularly the field of special educational needs,
require a highly detailed framework in which to operate. The Irish experience
of the past decade in particular has illustrated the difficulties which can arise
from relying solely on the constitutional provisions.
In the absence of a detailed legislative framework to guide the operation of
the constitutional right, education has remained very much in the executive
field, being regulated by a series of circulars and memoranda issued by the
Department of Education. This has led directly to two major difficulties in
practice which have had the effect of undermining the right to education of the
child. First, demarcation disputes have arisen between government departments
as to who is responsible for funding various aspects of educational provision
such as transport, psychological assessments and residential care. Given the
level of expense involved in these matters, the Department of Education has
been all too eager to try to pass the buck to the Department of Health
and the Department of Transport. In turn, these departments feel that they
are being asked to take on expenses rightly belonging to the Department of
Education. This is a particular danger in the resource intensive area of special
educational needs, where a variety of support services are required and the
amount of money necessary to vindicate rights is disproportionately larger than
the number of votes which will be lost as a result of a failure to make adequate
provision.
These disputes between departments tend to descend into protracted
wrangling, giving rise to lengthy delays in making adequate provision
for children; delays which may cause irreparable damage to a child with
special educational needs, since it is well established that early diagnosis and
intervention are of paramount importance in relation to learning difficulties
such as autism and dyslexia. Furthermore, if the law imposes age limits on
entitlements to educational provision (as it does in both England and Wales and
Ireland),63 delays in meeting a childs needs cause that child to lose irrevocably
part of his limited period of entitlement to free provision. Referring to one
series of such delays, Kelly J. in the Irish High Court characterised the situation
as a scandal and stated that: The addressing of the rights of the young people
that I have had to deal with appears to be bogged down in a bureaucratic
and administrative quagmire.64 The advantage of a legislative framework in
such a scenario is to stipulate clearlyin legally binding termsthe areas of
responsibility of each government department.65 This prevents the crucial issue
63
See s.312(5) of the Education Act 1996 and Wakefield Metropolitan District Council v E [2002]
E.L.R. 203 in England and Wales, and s.1 of the Education for Persons with Special Educational Needs
Act 2004 and Sinnott v Minister for Education [2001] 2 I.R. 545 in Ireland.
64
DB v Minister for Justice [1999] 1 I.L.R.M. 93 at 104.
65 In Ireland, the Education for Persons with Special Educational Needs Act 2004 addresses this issue
plan, it must be referred to the Special Education Appeals Board established under s.36 of the Act by
either or both of the bodies within two months of arising. The Appeals Board is then to determine the
case within two months.
66 This matter has been fully discussed by OMahony, Education, Remedies and the Separation of
following quote from R. Stevens, The Independence of the Judiciary: The View from the Lord Chancellors
Office (1993) quoted in Laws, Law and Democracy [1995] P.L. 72 at p.90: Nothing underlines the
atheoretical nature of the British Constitution more than the casualness with which is approaches the
separation of powers. In spite of this, the courts still tend to regard an interference with matters of
policy as being a breach of the separation of powers; see Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister of State
for the Civil Service [1985] A.C. 374.
68 [2001] 4 I.R. 259.
69 See OMahony, Education, Remedies and the Separation of Powers (2002) 24 D.U.L.J. 57.
70 In Sinnott v Minister for Education [2001] 2 I.R. 545, Hardiman J. suggested at 711712 that no
difficulty would arise in respect of injunctive relief granted pursuant to a statutory duty. Hardiman
J.s judgment in Sinnott was basically a less developed version of the judgment which he gave shortly
afterwards in TD.
71 See Cronin v Minister for Education [2004] 3 I.R. 205
72 See OMahony, Educational Rights in Irish Law, pp.256259.
It has been shown above that the sole reliance on a constitutional right
to education in Ireland resulted in a completely inadequate response to
73 The Special Educational Needs and Disability Tribunal was established in England and Wales by
s.177 of the Education Act 1993 and is currently governed by Pt IV of the Education Act 1996 (as
amended by the Special Educational Needs and Disability Act 2001) and the Special Educational Needs
Tribunal Regulations 2001 (SI 2001/600); see generally N. Harris, Special Educational Needs and Access
to Justice: The Role of the Special Educational Needs Tribunal (Bristol: Jordans, 1997).
74 The Special Education Appeals Board was established in Ireland by s.36 of the Education for
the rights of children with special educational needs, and that sustained
constitutional litigation eventually brought about a legislative framework that
it is hoped will address many of the previous failures. However, it should
also be noted that some of the more admirable aspects of the legislation
that was eventually enactedmost particularly its demand-led approach to
resourceswere influenced by the presence of a constitutional right in the first
place. It now falls to consider whether the system in England and Wales, which
is based solely on legislation, contains weaknesses which might be attributable
in part to the absence of a constitutional right to education.
The first point to note in this regard is the approach in UK law to the
protection of human rights in general, and to the right to education in
particular, and to contrast this with the protection provided by the Irish
Constitution. For this purpose, it is necessary to consider the incorporation of
the ECHR into domestic law in the United Kingdom through the enactment
of the Human Rights Act 1998. The 1998 Act was undoubtedly a step in the
right direction for the protection of fundamental human rights. However, it is
submitted that it did not go far enough in order to bring about an adequate
protection of human rights in general; furthermore, in the specific context of
the right to education, the protection it offers is quite limited indeed.
Generally speaking, a fundamental difficulty with respect to the protection
of human rights in the United Kingdom is that the doctrine of parliamentary
sovereignty leaves them perpetually at the mercy of Parliament. In this context,
no less an authority than Lord Scarman has argued:
A legal system at the mercy of a legislature, which is itself, save
in a minority situation, at the mercy of the executive, is no sure
guarantee of human rights . . . Without a bill of rights protected from
repeal, amendment, or suspension by the ordinary processes of a bare
Parliamentary majority controlled by the government of the day, human
rights will be at risk.76
While the 1998 Act may have introduced the language of human rights and the
case law of the Strasbourg court into domestic courts in the United Kingdom,
the fact remains that it enjoys no level of legal entrenchment whatsoever.
There is no requirement for legislation which proposes to amend or repeal
the Act to be passed by a special majority, not to mention a referendum.
The only additional legal protection enjoyed by the Act over and above other
statutes is its protection from implied repeal arising from its classification as
a constitutional statute.77 The fact that parliamentary sovereignty allows
76 Sir Leslie Scarman, English LawThe New Dimension (London: Stevens & Sons, 1974), p.69. Apart
from the dangers of parliamentary sovereignty, Scarman touches upon another issue here: the increasing
degree of control which the executive exercises over Parliament. Sir Thomas Bingham, The European
Convention on Human Rights: Time to Incorporate (1993) 109 L.Q.R. 390 at p.391 has referred to
this as the elective dictatorship of the majority [which] means that, by and large, the government of
the day can get its way, even if its majority is small.
77 It was held in Thoburn v Sunderland City Council [2002] 4 All E.R. 156 that a constitutional
statute, i.e. a statute which conditions the legal relationship between citizen and state in some
general, overarching manner, or . . . enlarges or diminishes the scope of what we would now regard
Parliament to repeal any statute led Scarman to call for a new constitutional
settlement78 ; at the very least, it would seem to justify arguing in favour of the
adoption of a bill of rights which enjoys some degree of legal entrenchment.79
The matter is, however, not quite that simple, and account must be taken
of political as well as legal entrenchment. Closer examination reveals that
academic opinion is divided as to the real benefit of entrenching a bill of
rights. It has been suggested by Sir Thomas Bingham that there is no need for
entrenchment of an Act incorporating the ECHR, since the political reality
is that such an Act is extremely unlikely to be repealed.80 Zander approaches
the same point from the other side, suggesting that the level of entrenchment
is perhaps irrelevant as the government will always, if necessary, find a way
around it.81 However, he also concedes Binghams point by stating that [a]
bill of rights clothed only in the special aura created by its title has a significant
measure of entrenchment through the mere fact of its existence.82
The level of entrenchment which a bill of rights should enjoy is another
question; this can range from an express derogation clause to a special majority
requirement to the necessity for a referendum or even a combination of any or
all of these.83 Certainly, Zanders point that a requirement for a special majority
will easily be met in an emergency is valid, while critics of entrenchment
may argue that a requirement for a referendum goes too far and is unduly
restrictive in such an event. However, this difficulty can easily be overcome
by the inclusion of an emergency powers provision in the bill of rights or
constitutional document; such a provision can be formulated sufficiently tightly
to achieve, as far as possible, a balance between the protection of rights and
the ability of a government to respond to a crisis.84 Furthermore, it is common
as fundamental constitutional rights cannot be impliedly repealed. The Human Rights Act 1998 is
undoubtedly such a constitutional statute.
78 Scarman, English Law, p.69.
79 It is important to note that as long as the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty remains alive and
well, then in light of decisions such as Ellen Street Estates v Ministry of Health [1934] 1 K.B. 590 at
597, it may be impossible to entrench a statute to any degree whatsoever, since Parliament is entitled
simply to ignore any provision in a statute which purports to prevent the statute being amended or
repealed in the normal way. On this point see further H.W.R. Wade, The Basis of Legal Sovereignty
[1955] C.L.J. 172, particularly at pp.174176 and 190. If this view is correct, then any argument for an
entrenched bill of rights becomes, by necessity, an argument for a new constitutional settlement.
80 Bingham, English LawThe New Dimension (1974) at p.396. Bingham states that the repeal of such
laws as those extending the vote to the entire adult population or supporting the independence of the
judiciary would be unthinkable in the absence of something approaching a revolution and that a bill of
rights would take its place at the head of this favoured list.
81 Zander, A Bill of Rights?, p.112.
82 Zander, A Bill of Rights?, p.112.
83 The various options are discussed by JUSTICE, A Bill of Rights for Britain? (JUSTICE, London,
2007), pp.1315.
84 Art.28.3.3 of the Irish Constitution provides that in time or war or armed rebellion, no law
expressed to be for the purpose of securing the public safety and the preservation of the State shall be
declared invalid pursuant to any provision of the Constitution. While the power extends to allow the
Oireachtas to declare a state of emergency and enact such laws pursuant to a war taking place other
than in the State (as happened in the Second World War), and to extend the period of an emergency
for a period after the cessation of hostilities, the power does not extend any further than this and
would seem to strike a reasonable balance. Modern concerns regarding global terrorism could also be
accommodated in a similar provision.
for bills of rights to set out circumstances under which it is justified for a
government to infringe any given right; the ECHR provides a good example
of how a highly detailed system can be set down for testing whether any given
interference is legitimate.85
Critics may argue that if Zander and Bingham are correct, and the level
of entrenchment enjoyed by a bill of rights is somewhat irrelevant, then
there is certainly no need to go so far as to require a referendum authorising
amendments to the Bill. However, as noted above, rights can easily be
eroded in a state where the bill of rights is not entrenched. Indeed, even
the presence of an entrenched bill of rights does not entirely prevent state
violations of rights. It is, however, the best form of protection available,
and provided that sufficient flexibility is catered for in order to allow the
government to respond to threats to the common good, it is desirable that
a bill of rights should be more deeply entrenched than a token requirement
for an express derogation clause or the slightly stricter concept of a special
majority. It is the rights of the people that are being restricted, and once a
bill of rights has clearly specified the circumstances under which a government
may restrict the rights which it guarantees, then no further interference
should be permitted without the consent of the people as expressed in a
referendum. This has the obvious advantage of a greater level of certainty and
a more concrete and unassailable level of protection for rights in everyday
circumstances.
Apart from its lack of entrenchment, the 1998 Act suffers from further failings.
The mechanisms which it employs for the incorporation of the Convention
have been carefully formulated so as not to impinge upon parliamentary
sovereignty in any way; consequently, the 1998 Act does not contain any
mechanism for judicial review of legislation.86 The rather limited provisions
which it does implement merely scratch the surface of what is required to deter
a resolute government from violating the rights of citizens through its acts or
omissions. When it is recalled that the Act currently represents the high-water
mark of human rights in domestic law in England and Wales, it is therefore
85 See, e.g. Sunday Times v UK (1980) 2 E.H.R.R. 245. M. Tushnet, Living with a Bill of Rights
in C. Gearty and A. Tomkins, eds, Understanding Human Rights (London: Mansell, 1996), has argued
at p.5 that a provision such as this may be undesirable in that constitutional approval may legitimise
intrusive government practices and even give the impression that they are actually desirable, whereas
remaining silent on the issue makes the courts more likely to be adverse to such intrusions. However,
this argument overlooks the fact that the absence of constitutional prescription of the circumstances in
which these intrusions can be made leaves courts powerless ever to declare them invalid; defining them
allows for intrusions which go too far to be struck down.
86
For an overview of the Human Rights Act 1998, see A. Lester and L. Clapinska, Human Rights
and the British Constitution in J. Jowell and D. Oliver, eds, The Changing Constitution, 5th edn
(Oxford: OUP, 2004), pp.6287. The procedure under the Human Rights Act whereby the courts can
declare legislation to be incompatible with the Convention, but it remains up to Parliament to remedy
the defect, is well discussed by F. Klug, A Bill of Rights: Do We Need One or Do We Already Have
One? [2007] P.L. 701. On the importance of judicial remedial powers to the practical implementation
of human rights which are enumerated in written constitutions see F. Beytagh, Individual Rights,
Judicial Review, and Written Constitutions in J. OReilly, ed., Human Rights and Constitutional Law
(Dublin: Round Hall Press, 1992), pp.147162.
quite clear that the level of protection which is available to human rights in
general is somewhat less than desirable.
When the specific level of protection offered to the right to education is
considered, the Act fares even worse. This is not due to any flaw in the Act
itself, but to the extremely limited nature of the right to education under Art.2
of Protocol No.1 to the ECHR. It is well established that Art.2 does not
require the state to provide any education at all, confining itself to conferring
a mere right of access to existing educational establishments. The case law
relating to special educational needs has demonstrated how even this right is
highly limited by the level of discretion afforded to funding authorities as to
the allocation of resources.87 Since this weak provision, as implemented by
the somewhat limited Human Rights Act, is the closest thing in UK law to
a constitutional right to education, it is clear thatin the legal sense at any
ratethe level of protection afforded to the right to education is less than
could be hoped for. Furthermore, it compares most unfavourably to Art.42 of
the Irish Constitution, even notwithstanding its flaws.
Apart from the general approach to the protection of rights, a further
argument can be drawn from the overall impression that one gains when
contrasting the body of constitutional case law relating to education in Ireland
with its legislative equivalent in England and Wales. The general approach
to children in education law in England and Wales has been to avoid the
creation of individual rights.88 Instead, the Education Acts place local education
authorities under a series of statutory duties and afford to them a large degree of
statutory discretion as to how to discharge those duties. Undoubtedly, a large
amount of discretion is necessary for local education authorities to carry out
their function. However, in the absence of a right to education (properly
so-called) in English law, the effect of this is as follows: as courts are invariably
reluctant to interfere with a public authority in its exercise of a discretion
conferred by statute, cases begin from the standpointindeed, almost the
presumptionthat the courts should not interfere with the course of action
adopted by the local education authority. It is up to the plaintiff in the case to
persuade the court that there is a strong case for doing otherwise. This has the
effect of stacking the deck in favour of the local education authority in many
cases and creating a major hurdle which many genuinely aggrieved plaintiffs
will find it difficult to cross.89
The presence of an overarching constitutional right to education causes Irish
case law to have an entirely different emphasis. Instead of revolving around a
reluctance to interfere with the exercise of a statutory discretion, the case law
focuses on the fact that the child has a constitutional right which the State
has failed to vindicate.90 This is obviously a far preferable situation, and could
87
See OMahony, Educational Rights in Irish Law, pp.153156.
88 See, e.g. M. Freeman, Childrens Rights in Education: A Test Case for Best Interests and
Autonomy in R. Davie and D. Galloway, eds, Listening to Children in Education (London: David Fulton
Publishers, 1996), pp.2948.
89 For a good example of this approach see R. v Cumbria CC Ex p. NB [1996] E.L.R. 65.
90 See, e.g. Comerford v Minister for Education [1997] 2 I.L.R.M. 134.
91 See ss.3 and 4 of the Education for Persons with Special Educational Needs Act 2004.
92
See s.13 of the Education for Persons with Special Educational Needs Act 2004.
93 See 585 Dail Debates 823, May 13, 2003.
94 N. Harris, Special educational needsthe role of the courts [2002] 14 C.F.L.Q. 137 at p.143.
Conclusion
95 See the comments made by the Minister for Education and Science, Noel Dempsey, Dail Select
Committee on Education and Science, January 7, 2004 regarding the legislation being designed to
provide a statutory base for the implementation of constitutional rights.
approach on a systemic level is the correct one. In light of the political realities
of the constitutional system in the United Kingdom, this is an unrealistic course
of action to be recommended in England and Wales. Nevertheless, much could
still be achieved by reforms which concentrated on the effect, rather than the
form, of the law.
To this end, the right to education of children with special educational
needs would be better protected in England and Wales if the legislation
was reformed in such a way as to be rights-based, for two reasons. First,
there is no doubt that the language of rights has a major impact on the
consciousness of the electorate, and it could be argued that an increased
emphasis on the right to education in education legislation could bring
about a similarly significant measure of political entrenchment to that enjoyed
by the Human Rights Act 1998. More significantly, legislation which is
rights-based is more likely to operate so as to be demand-led, thereby
being far more likely to ensure that adequate resources are allocated to
meet individual needs. Ideally, in order to reinforce this, decisions regarding
assessments of educational needs and the allocation of resources should be
made by separate bodies who are independent of each other. In this way the
advantages enjoyed in Ireland due to the nature of the constitutional right to
education which exists there could be conferred to a certain extent in England
and Wales without the necessity of a new constitutional settlement in the
United Kingdom.
Current Survey
Administration of Justice
Legal Services Act 2007
Part 2 (ss.211) of the Legal Services Act 2007 establishes the Legal Services
Board, whose responsibility is to promote the regulatory objectives set out in
Pt 1 (s.1). Part 3 (ss.1226) defines reserved legal activities and provides for
the regulation of those engaged in such activities. Part 4 (ss.2770) deals with
the regulation of approved regulators. Part 5 (ss.71111) deals with alternative
business structures. Part 6 (ss.112161) deals with legal complaints. Parts 7, 8
and 9 (ss.162214) contain further and miscellaneous provisions about lawyers.
Precedent
The Court of Appeal reversed the decisions of two county court judges and
overruled an earlier decision of a deputy High Court judge. Both county court
judges had held that, as the Chancery division of the High Court and the
county court were courts of co-ordinate jurisdiction when hearing applications
under the relevant statutory procedure, they were not bound by the earlier
decision but as a matter of judicial comity should follow the earlier decision
unless satisfied that it was wrong. Held, that decisions of a higher court are
binding on judges sitting in a lower court; that the Chancery division of the
High Court does not cease to be a higher court than the county court when
it exercises the same first instance jurisdiction as has been conferred on the
county court; that there is no relevant difference between the decision of a
High Court judge and the decision of a deputy High Court judge.
Howard De Walden Estates Ltd v Aggio [2007] EWCA Civ 499 at [86];
[2007] 3 W.L.R 542.
Judicial appointments
The Secretary of State for Justice will adopt ss.2531 and Sch.8 of the
Constitutional Reform Act 2005 (instituting the appointments process for
justices of the United Kingdom Supreme Court) on a voluntary basis from
now on for those appointed to the Appellate Committee of the House
of Lords (H.C.Deb., Vol.464, col.21WS, October 8, and (an amending
statement) Vol.465, col.11WS, October 24, 2007). A discussion paper on
judicial appointments is published as Cm.7210.
Former judges
Barristers; Judges; Professional practice; Restrictive covenants;
Retirement; Solicitors
The Secretary of State for Justice has decided after consultation that the
convention that former salaried judges cannot return to practice as barristers or
solicitors should remain. He is not persuaded that lifting the prohibition would
increase diversity of the judiciary.
Broadcasting
Freedom of information: status of BBC as public authority
Appeals; BBC; Freedom of information; Information Tribunal;
Journalism; Judicial review; Public authorities; Requests for information;
Statutory interpretation
Confidentiality
See also BROADCASTING
No right to privacy: Article 8 ECHR
Breach of confidence; Confidential information; Photographs; Right to
respect for private and family life
Freedom of information
Constitution
Devolution: Wales
Part 15 (s.235) and Sch.17 to the Local Government and Public Involvement
in Health Act 2007 amend Sch.5 to the Government of Wales Act 2006 and
confer additional powers on the National Assembly of Wales in the area of
local government.
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
Current Survey 155
Governance of Britain
Discrimination
Equality
Equality; Reports
The governments response to the 6th report from the Communities and Local
Government Committee, entitled Equality, is Cm.7246.
Elections
Scottish elections 2007
The Secretary of State for Scotland gave a statement on the report for
the Electoral Commission on the conduct of the May 2007 elections for the
Scottish Parliament and local authorities (H.C.Deb., Vol.465, col.165, October
23, 2007).
Electoral Commission
Freedom of person
See PUBLIC ORDER
Freedom of property
Serious Crime Act 2007
Proceeds of crime; Revenue and customs; Search and seizure; Serious
offences
Powers of search, seizure etc of property are given by the Serious Crime
Act 2007 in respect of the recovery of proceeds of crime (ss.76, 78 and 79),
incidents involving serious violence (s.87) and the investigatory powers of
Revenue and Customs (s.88). See further under PUBLIC ORDER.
Freedom of speech
See PARLIAMENT
The governments responses to the 6th and 7th reports of the Public Adminis-
tration Committee, dealing respectively with the business appointments rules
and the Ministerial Code, are HC 1087 and 1088 (20062007). The Gov-
ernments response to four of the Committees earlier reports on ethics and
standards, skills for Government, machinery of government changes and the
publication of political memoirs are respectively HC 88, 89, 90 and 91
(20072008).
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
158 Public Law
Human Rights
See also PRISONS
The Secretary of State sought permission from the court under s.3(1)(a) of
the Prevention of Terrorism Act 2005 to make a non-derogating control
order under s.2(1) against MB in order to prevent him travelling to Iraq.
The proposed order did not seek to impose any curfew. The application for
permission was supported by an open and a closed statement. The justification
for the order was contained in the closed statement. Following the submissions
by the Secretary of State and the view of the special advocate appointed to
represent MB, the judge accepted that it would be contrary to the public
interest to disclose the closed material to MB but granted a declaration that
the procedures in s.3 of the 2005 were incompatible with MBs right to
a fair trial under Art.6(1) ECHR. The Court of Appeal allowed an appeal
by the Secretary of State. In a separate case the Secretary of State made a
non-derogating control order against AF, under which he was subjected to a
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
Current Survey 159
curfew lasting 10 hours per day and other restrictions. The judge found that
the justification for the order lay in closed material not disclosed to AF. He
concluded that the cumulative effect of the restrictions amounted to a breach
of Art.5 ECHR, but declined to make a declaration of incompatibility. He
allowed AF to appeal directly to the House of Lords on a number of issues.
Held, (i) that, having regard to the duration and nature of the restrictions, the
judge in the case of AF should not have concluded that there was a breach of
Art.5; (ii) that the proceedings did not involve the determination of a criminal
charge for the purposes of Art.6, but a person against whom an order was
proposed was entitled to procedural protection commensurate with the gravity
of the potential consequences; that any restrictions in the interests of national
security of the individuals right to be informed of the case against him and to
respond to it had to be mitigated by procedural means such as the appointment
of special advocates; that the provisions in para 4 of the Schedule to the 2005
Act were to be read down under s.3 of the Human Rights Act 1998 so as to
take effect only where it was consistent with fairness; that both cases should be
remitted to the High Court for consideration.
Secretary of State for the Home Department v MB [2007] UKHL 46;
[2007] 3 W.L.R. 681.
Conditions precedent; Curfew requirements; Non-derogating control
orders; Right to liberty and security; Secretaries of State; Terrorism
Section 8(2) of the Prevention of Terrorism Act 2005 provides that the
Secretary of State must consult the chief officer of the police force about
whether there is evidence available that could realistically be used for the
purposes of a prosecution of the individual for an offence relating to terrorism.
The Secretary of State made a non-derogating control order against E under
s.2(1) of the Act, imposing a 12-hour curfew and other restrictions. The
Secretary of State became aware of two judgments in the Belgian courts
implicating E in terrorism-related offences, but did not disclose this to the
chief officer of police when the chief officer informed the Secretary of State
when the order was due for renewal that there was insufficient evidence to
prosecute E. Held, (i) that, having regard to the duration and conditions of the
curfew, there was no infringement of Art.5 ECHR, (ii) that compliance with
s.8(2) was not a precondition to the making of an order under s.2; that the
Secretary of State was under an implicit continuing duty to keep the prospects
of prosecution under review, but the failure to disclose the Belgian judgments
had neither materially contributed to nor vitiated his decision to renew the
order.
Secretary of State for the Home Department v E [2007] UKHL 47;
[2007] 3 W.L.R. 720.
See PRISONS
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
160 Public Law
Section 275A of the Criminal Procedure (Scotland) Act 1995 (inserted by s.10
of the Sexual Offences (Procedure and Evidence) (Scotland) Act 2002) has
the effect, where an accused has succeeded in persuading the court to admit
evidence of a kind that satisfies the conditions in s.275(1), of opening up the
disclosure of his record of previous convictions for sexual offences. Held, that
s.275A, properly applied, does not violate the accuseds right to a fair trial, and
s.10 of the 2002 Act is within the competence of the Scottish Parliament.
DS v HM Advocate [2007] UKPC D1; 2007 S.L.T. 1026.
Article 6: Appearance of bias
See CONFIDENTIALITY
Article 1 of First Protocol
Squatters rights
P, a company, owned land over which G had grazing rights until December
1983. G was instructed to vacate the land but did not do so. From 1984
until 1999 G continued to occupy the land without permission. In 1997 G
registered cautions at the Land Registry against Ps title on the grounds that
he had obtained title by adverse possession. P sought the cancellation of the
cautions and also sought possession of the land. G relied on the Limitation
Act 1980 which barred a claim for recovery after 12 years and on the Land
Registration Act 1925, which provided that after the end of the limitation
period, the registered owner held the land on trust for the squatter. The House
of Lords upheld the decision of the High Court that P had lost its title to the
land. Held, by 10 votes to 7, that Art.1 of Protocol 1 was applicable; that P
was affected not by a deprivation of possession but by a control of land use;
that the limitation period pursued a legitimate aim in the general interest and
similar provisions were found in a large number of European countries; that
the limitation period had been in force for many years, P was well aware of
the provisions and very little action on its part was required in order to stop
time running; that a requirement of compensation for loss of the land would
sit uneasily with the purpose of a limitation period; that the limitation period
did not upset the fair balance required by Art.1.
J.A. Pye (Oxford) Ltd v United Kingdom (Application No.44302/02) The
Times, October 1, 2007, ECtHR.
Joint Committee reports
The following reports of the Joint Committee on Human Rights have been
published: 21st (HL179/HC1056 (20062007)) Human Trafficking: Update;
1st (HL5/HC72 (20072008)) Government Response to the Committees 18th
report of Session 2006-07: The Human Rights of Older People in Healthcare. The
Government reply to the Committees 19th report (Counter-terrorism policy and
human rights) is Cm.7215.
Three Sudanese refugees from Darfur had been refused asylum on the grounds
that they could be relocated internally to Khartoum. The decision was upheld
by the Asylum and Immigration Tribunal, whose decision was reversed by the
Court of Appeal. Held, (i) that the finding of the tribunal that the applicants
would not be at risk of persecution in Khartoum had not been challenged; (ii)
that the Court of Appeal had been wrong to reject the tribunals finding that it
would not be unreasonable or unduly harsh to return them to Khartoum, since
it was clear (a) that the tribunal had not on a proper reading of their findings
decided that relocation could not be unduly harsh unless the conditions were
liable to infringe Art 3 ECHR and (b) the tribunal had not excluded the
conditions the applicants enjoyed in Darfur in considering whether it would
be unduly harsh to relocate them.
AH (Sudan) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2007]
UKHL 49: The Times, November 15, 2007
The Court of Appeal has set out the important principles that must be followed
in making applications for judicial review of deportation decisions and in
seeking to appeal to the Court of Appeal. Failure to adhere to the principles
could lead to professional sanctions.
R. (on the application of Madan) v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2007] EWCA Civ 770; The Times, August 27, 2007.
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
Current Survey 163
Judicial Review
Scope of rule against fettering
Licences; Peaceful enjoyment of possessions; Personal licences; Security
Industry Authority Rules; Security industry; Ultra vires
Section 3 of the Private Security Industry Act 2001 makes it an offence for a
person to engage in any licensable conduct, including door supervision, except
under and in accordance with a licence under the Act. The Security Industry
Authority has a duty under s.7 before issuing any licences to prepare and publish
a document setting out the criteria which it proposes to apply in exercising
its powers under the Act. The published criteria included an automatic bar
of five or two years on applicants who had committed a relevant serious or
significant offence. Three claimants, who had been door supervisors for many
years under the self-regulatory scheme existing prior to the 2001 Act, were
refused licences in accordance with these criteria and sought judicial review
of the authoritys refusal to change the criteria. Held, (i) that the elimination
of criminality among door supervisors was one of the aims of the 2001 Act
and the automatic bar was wholly within the scope and purpose of s.7; (ii)
that, where Parliament had conferred a broad discretion on a public authority
to take decisions conferring benefits or imposing burdens without expressly
authorising the authority to make rules or establish a policy, the authority
should not fetter its discretion, but where, as under the 2001 Act, Parliament
had expressly conferred a rule-making power, the only question was whether
the rules were intra vires the statutory power, rational and proportionate, and
the rules in question satisfied those tests; (iii) that it was doubtful on present
authority if the permissions enjoyed by the claimants prior to the Act were
possessions for the purposes of Art. 1 of the First Protocol to the ECHR, but,
assuming that they were and that the published criteria interfered with them,
the automatic bar was proportionate to the legitimate aim and was justified
under Art.1.
R. (on the application of Nicholds) v Security Industry Authority
[2007] EWHC 1792 (Admin); [2007] 1 W.L.R. 2067, Kenneth Parker Q.C.
sitting as a deputy High Court judge.
Alternative procedures
Discretionary powers; Financial Ombudsman Service; Financial advisers;
Judicial review; Jurisdiction; Misselling; Statutory powers
Although the structure of the Asylum and Immigration Tribunal (AIT) has
subsequently been amended by legislation, the decision in R. (on the application
of G) v Immigration and Appeal Tribunal [2005] 1 W.L.R. 1445 is still binding
on the Court of Appeal, nor has it been undermined by subsequent decisions
of the House of Lords. It is therefore an abuse of process to challenge by
way of judicial review decisions of the AIT made under the statutory review
procedure in the Nagtionality, Immigration and Asylum Act 2002.
R. (on the application of F) (Mongolia) v Asylum and Immigration
Tribunal [2007] EWCA Civ 769; [2007] 1 W.L.R. 2523.
Local Government
Sustainable Communities Act 2007
Part 1 (ss.116) of the Greater London Authority Act 2007 amends the Greater
London Authority Act 1999 in respect of its general functions. Parts 25
(ss.1727) contain provisions relating to transport, the London Development
Agency, health and the London Fire and Emergency Planning Authority. Part 6
(s.28) obliges the Mayor to prepare and publish a housing strategy for London.
Part 7 (ss.2936) deals with planning functions. The Mayor is given power to
determine planning applications which are of potential strategic importance.
Parts 811 (ss.3759) deal with environmental functions, culture, media and
sport and miscellaneous functions.
Part 1 (ss.130) of the Act deals with structural and boundary change in
England. These will inter alia enable proposals to be made for local authorities
in two-tier areas to move to a unified structure. Part 2 (ss.3161) deals with
electoral arrangements. Sections 3154 enable district councils in England to
seek to change the electoral arrangement, e.g. by moving to an arrangement
at which the entire council is elected simultaneously. Councils may also
request single-member electoral areas. Part 3 (ss.6274) deals with executive
arrangements for councils in England and amends the Local Government Act
2000 in relation to such matters as referendums on new forms of executive
arrangements. Part 4 (ss.75102) deals with parishes. Part 5 (ss.103128) deals
with co-operation of English authorities with local partners. Part 6, 7 and
8 (ss.129167) deal with bye-laws, best value and inspection and audit. Part
9 (ss.168182) deals with the Commissioner for Local Administration in
England. Part 10 (ss.183204) deals with ethical standards. Parts 11, 12 and
13 (ss.205220) deal with joint waste authorities, entities controlled by local
authorities and the Valuation Tribunal for England. Part 14 (ss.221234) deals
with the involvement of patients and the public in health and social care.
For Pt 15, see CONSTITUTION. Parts 16 and 17 (ss.236246) contain
miscellaneous and final provisions.
Standards
The report of the Standards Board for England for 20062007 is HC1009
(20062007)
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
166 Public Law
Natural Justice
See also PRISONS
Right to be heard
Care workers; Lists; Right to fair trial; Right to respect for private and
family life; Vulnerable adults
unless he reasonably believed that the resultant delay would place a vulnerable
adult at risk of harm.
R. (on the application of Wright) v Secretary of State for Health
[2007] EWCA Civ 999; The Times, November 16, 2007.
Ombudsmen
See JUDICIAL REVIEW
Parliament
Parliamentary privilege
Acquisition of land; Admissibility; Constitutional rights; Judicial review;
Ministers; Right of access to court; Saint Vincent and the Grenadines;
Statements
had been unable to take the oath of allegiance because of the failure to elect
a Speaker, they were ineligible to receive the parliamentary salaries for the
relevant period. Rule 91 of the Standing Orders of the House provides: In
any matter not herein provided for, resort shall be had to the usage and practice
of the Commons House of Parliament of Great Britain and Northern Ireland,
which shall be followed as far as the same may be applicable to this House
. . . . The UNC members brought proceedings claiming that they were
entitled to remuneration. Held, that, although a member could not take part in
proceedings until he had taken the oath of allegiance and Erskine May states
that salary becomes payable when a member of the House of Commons has
taken the oath, nevertheless it is difficult to imagine a modern, democratic
state in which a member of the lower House at least is not paid and there is
no British precedent for the current situation; that it must be inferred that the
framers of the Constitution intended the parliamentary system to be fair and
even-handed; that the implied constitutional right to receive a salary when a
member was willing and able to take the oath must prevail over a contrary
procedural rule.
Sharma v Attorney General of Trinidad and Tobago [2007] UKPC 41;
[2007] 1 W.L.R. 2223.
Fair and accurate report of parliamentary proceedings
Defamatory meaning; Libel; Parliamentary proceedings; Qualified
privilege
The House of Commons welcomed the First Report of the Select Committee
on the Modernisation of the House of Commons (HC 337 (20062007)),
which concerned the role of the backbench member, and approved the
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
Current Survey 169
proposals for changes in the procedures and practices of the House set out in
the Governments response to the report (Cm.7231), including the proposals
for topical questions (H.C.Deb., Vol.465, col.441, October 25, 2007).
Standards and Privileges
Prisons
See also NATURAL JUSTICE
Independence of Parole Board: Article 5 ECHR
A number of prisoners claimed judicial review of the use of the Parole Board
to undertake review of their sentences. The Board was a non-departmental
public body operating under the sponsorship of the relevant department of
state. Sponsorship had been transferred from the Home Office to the Ministry
of Justice. Held, that the relationship of sponsorship created what objectively
appeared to be lack of independence and to cause the sponsoring department
sometimes to treat the board as part of its establishment; that there were
documented instances of the use of the powers of the department inconsistent
with the need to maintain objective independence; that the claimants were
entitled to a declaration that under the common law and Art 5(4) ECHR the
board lacked objective independence of the executive.
R. (on the application of Brooke) v Parole Board [2007] EWHC 2036
(Admin); The Times, October 18, 2007.
Detention after expiry of tariff
released him on licence. Held, that continued detention without current and
periodic means of assessing a prisoners risk, was arbitrary and unreasonable
and therefore unlawful.
R. (on the application of Wells (Nicholas)) v Parole Board [2007]
EWCA Civ 1835 (Admin); The Times, October 11, 2007.
Telephone calls: Article 8 ECHR
The Prison (Amendment) Rules 2007 (SI 2954/2007) amend the Prison
Rules 1999 to enable to director of a contracted-out prison to conduct certain
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
Current Survey 171
The annual report of the Parole Board for England and Wales for 20062007
is HC1022 (20062007). The annual report for 2006 of the Parole Board for
Scotland is SE 2007/155.
Public Order
See also HUMAN RIGHTS
Serious Crime Act 2007
Part 1 (ss.143) of the Serious Crime Act 2007 creates the concept of Serious
Crime Prevention Orders, a civil order made on application to the High
Court, or to the Crown Court on conviction, to protect the public by
preventing, restricting or disrupting involvement in serious crime. See further
under FREEDOM OF PROPERTY.
Power to withhold information
Exclusion from court; Judicial decision-making; Statutory interpretation;
Terrorist investigations; Warrants of further detention
Tort
See also PUBLIC ORDER
Misfeasance in a public office
Amendments; Fresh evidence; Limitations; Lloyds; Misfeasance in
public office
International Survey
Correspondents: Australia and South East Asia: Prof. Cheryl Saunders (Cen-
tre for Comparative Constitutional Studies, The University of Melbourne,
Australia); Canada: Prof. Jean-Francois Gaudreault-Desbiens (Universite de
Montreal, Canada); France: Roger Errera (Conseiller dEtat honoraire) and David
Marrani (Essex University); Germany: Prof. Dr Beate Rudolf (Freie Univer-
sitat, Berlin); India: Dr Shubhankar Dam (Singapore Management University,
Singapore); Israel: Dr Suzie Navot (Colman Law School, Israel); New Zealand
and South Pacific: The Public Law Group (Faculty of Law, University of Auck-
land); South Africa: Profs Christina Murray and Richard Calland (Democratic
Governance and Rights Unit, University of Cape Town, South Africa); Spain:
Prof. Marian Ahumada Ruiz (Universidad Autonoma de Madrid, Spain);
United States: Tina Drake Zimmerman (Supreme Court Institute Fellow,
Georgetown University Law Center, USA); Correspondent at large: Charles
Banner (Landmark Chambers, London, United Kingdom).1
Editors introduction
In 1956 Public Law was launched:
. . . devoted to publishing scholarly articles, reviews and surveys
that analyse and comment upon leading issues of constitutional and
administrative law in the United Kingdom and abroad (especially in
Europe, USA and the Commonwealth).
For a period in its earlier days the journal covered decisions of the US
Supreme Court. That section was followed by Roger Erreras reports on the
work of the Conseil dEtat. The International Survey continues the journals
commitment to an outward looking approach to what matters in its field,
providing a forum for developing trans-jurisdictional conversations about
matters of common concern across different states.
1 Where appropriate specific authors of the contributions from Australia and South East Asia, France,
New Zealand and South Pacific, and South Africa, are indicated below.
The Survey will draw on the insights of correspondents from around the
globe (and M. Erreras continuing assistance as one of those correspondents
is welcomed). Any such report of this length must be selective. Each quarter
correspondents will report briefly to the section editor the matters they think
worth commenting on from their jurisdiction or jurisdictions. Working from
those preliminary reports the editor will then commission reports, identifying
and pursuing common themes where they arise. Three themes link the reports
this quarter. First, balancing democratic values with the task of responding to
terrorist threats; of comparative interest is how common challenges are leading
to different policy responses. Compare, for example, the approach to managing
suspected terrorists in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States
reported on below.
The second theme concerns cases and legislation which relate to the
regulation of the democratic processboth securing the probity of those we
elect and seeking to maintain the primacy of the electorates will (expressed in
open and regular elections) as the primary rationale for legislative and executive
action. One recurrent concern for democracies addressed recently in Germany
(by the Constitutional Court), India (by the legislature and Supreme Court),
Spain (by the legislature), and the United States (by the Supreme Court) is
how properly to regulate the funding of parties, legislators, and the electoral
process.
The final theme relates to the composition and operation of supreme and
constitutional courtsthe referees of democracy. The reports under this
theme touch on how these courts can find themselves in play, with actors
from the legislative and executive branches seeking to influence the outcomes
of cases (and the development of whole areas of law) not only by representations
made in individual cases, but also by addressing the composition and operation
of such courts. As reports from Israel, South Africa, and Spain this quarter
indicate, the US Supreme Court is not alone in having its membership and
operation scrutinised for the purposes of seeking to predict, or alter, its future
jurisprudential direction.
Comments are welcomed to rmcornes@essex.ac.uk.
In Thomas v Mowbray the High Court of Australia upheld the interim control
order regime which allows the judiciary to approve, without prior notice to
the person concerned, and without an arrest, trial or conviction, temporary
orders to control a persons movement and communication (Criminal Code
Act 1995 (Cth) Div. 104). In the absence of constitutional or legislative
protection of rights, the only limits on the authority of the Australian Federal
(Commonwealth) Parliament to prescribe such a regime lie in the constitutional
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
International Survey 175
separation of powers and in the federal division of power. Both were argued
in this case, without success.
The High Court accepted that the interim control orders were, in large
part, an exercise of the defence power (s.51(vi) of the Commonwealth of
Australia Constitution Act 1900, the Constitution), supported by the power
to make laws with respect to external affairs (s.51(xxix) of the Constitution),
if necessary. In doing so, a majority adopted an interpretation of the defence
power that embraced threats from within as well as outside Australia, aimed
against people as well as governments, as long, at least, as the threats are
designed to advance a political, religious or ideological cause. In the wake of
this aspect of the decision, it is unclear how much remains of Communist Party
v Commonwealth (1951) 83 C.L.R. 1 in which the High Court held invalid
an attempt by the Commonwealth to dissolve the Australian Communist
Party, as an illegal organisation, on the ground that it had no power to
do so. In a powerful dissent, Kirby J. praised the foresight, wisdom and
prudence of the Court in the era of the Communist Party case, by contrast
with the constitutional era of laisser faire through which the Court is presently
passing ([386][387]).
The majority (Kirby and Hayne JJ. dissenting) also rejected the contention
that the legislation contravened the strict constitutional separation of judicial
power. The plaintiff had argued that the powers being vested in judges
were not judicial in character and therefore could not constitutionally be
conferred on a court by Commonwealth legislation. The argument was
rejected for a combination of reasons that included loose analogies with powers
that historically had been exercised by courts in Australia or elsewhere and
pragmatic acceptance that it was better for a court to exercise such powers than
for other institutions to do so. Once such powers were conferred on a court,
moreover, the majority justices were at pains to emphasise the necessity for a
strict adherence by the issuing courts to the standards which characterise judicial
activities ([59]). The decision was confined to the validity of interim detention
orders only, challenges to other aspects of the regime may be expected in the
future.
The Immigration and Refugee Protection Act 2001 empowered the Canadian
federal government to issue certificates (Security Certificates) declaring the
inadmissibility of foreign nationals or permanent residents on security grounds,
and leading to the detention of those named in the certificates. In sum, the
object of this process was to facilitate the removal of non-citizens suspected of
posing a threat to the security of Canada. Both the certificates and the detention
could be reviewed by a judge of the Federal Court of Canada, but in a process
depriving the individuals targeted of some or all of the most directly relevant
information on the basis of which the certificate had been issued or the deten-
tion ordered. The judge reviewing a certificate declaring someone inadmissible
was given the responsibility for summarising the case against the individual con-
cerned. A certificate found reasonable by the reviewing judge became a removal
order which could not be appealed and which was immediately enforceable.
Security certificates had been issued against Charkaoui and his co-appellants
and all had been detained for some time. They challenged the constitutionality
of the certificate scheme and detention review process on the basis of s.7
(right to life, liberty and security of the person), s.9 (guarantee against arbitrary
detention), s.10(c) (guarantee of a prompt review of detention), s.12 (guarantee
against cruel and unusual treatment) and s.15 (equality rights) of the Canadian
Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Recognising the peculiar threat raised by
terrorism, a unanimous Supreme Court of Canada nevertheless held that some
features of the impugned legislative scheme were inconsistent with the Charter.
First, the procedure for the judicial confirmation of certificates and review of
detention, with its mandatory non-disclosure of critically important evidence,
was found to contravene s.7 in a manner that could not be redeemed under s.1
(limitation clause) of the Charter. Secondly, the Supreme Court held that the
denial of a prompt hearing to foreign nationals violated ss.9 and 10(c) because
of their arbitrary nature.
2 David Marrani.
First, ISAF and OEF are largely separated, and secondly, OEF is based on the
UN Charter. Therefore, even single instances of violations of international law
by OEF would not amount to a systematic transformation of NATOs role.
Certain features of the Indian Constitution are considered so basic that they
may not be abrogated even by a constitutional amendmentthe basic struc-
ture doctrine. On the other hand, the Ninth Schedule to the Constitution
[2008] P.L. Spring Sweet & Maxwell and Contributors
International Survey 181
The review of Ahmed Zaouis security risk certificate before the Inspector-
General of Intelligence and Security (a retired High Court judge with a
watchdog role over the New Zealand Security Intelligence Service) began
more than four years after Zaouis arrival in New Zealand. During that period,
Zaoui, an Algerian, gained refugee status, and was made the subject of the first-
ever security risk certificate issued by the New Zealand Intelligence Security
Service (s.114D of the Immigration Act 1987). He also initiated two sets of legal
proceedings that reached the Supreme Court. In the first, the Court granted
him release on bail pending the Inspector-Generals decision (Zaoui v Att Gen
[2005] 1 N.Z.L.R. 577). In the second, the Court clarified the parameters of
the Inspector-Generals review and limited the executives power to deport
Zaoui by requiring the exercise of that power to be consistent with New
Zealands domestic and international human rights obligations (Zaoui v Att Gen
[2006] 1 N.Z.L.R. 289).
A major issue relating to the review concerned the use of classified security
information, to which neither Zaoui nor his lawyers would have access. Zaoui
won the right to obtain an appropriately edited summary of the allegations
against him (Zaoui v Att Gen [2004] 2 N.Z.L.R. 339). The Inspector-General
also appointed two special advocates to test the classified security information
against Zaoui during the sessions of the review from which Zaoui and his
lawyers would be excluded. The special advocates were to operate under similar
constraints as their equivalents in the United Kingdom, including the restriction
on communications once they had seen the classified security information.
In September 2007, in the midst of the Inspector-Generals review, the
Director of the Intelligence Service decided that Zaoui was no longer a
security risk, and withdrew the security risk certificate. Having promised to
respect New Zealand law and to stay in contact with the Intelligence Service,
Zaoui will now be permitted to remain in New Zealand.
3 John Ip.
4 Treasa Dunworth.
5 Hanna Wilberg.
burden, despite a majority ruling that the full reverse onus was in breach of a
right affirmed in the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act.
Two of the five judges expressly declined to follow the adventurous
approach to s.3 adopted by the House of Lords. All but the Chief Justice
considered that s.6 displaces a provisions natural meaning only if a more
rights-consistent alternative is genuinely open in light of the provisions
text and its purpose. Moreover, two judges considered it highly relevant
that the natural meaning was supported by evidence of how the provision was
understood at the time of enactment.
While none of the judges saw any relevant difference between the wording
of s.6 of the Bill of Rights and s.3 of the Human Rights Act, some found
support for the difference in approach in the legislative history of s.3. The
Courts purposive qualification on s.6 effectively mirrors an express provision
in recent Australian human rights legislation (s.32(1) of the Charter of Human
Rights and Responsibilities Act 2006 (Victoria)).
proposal accept that the distinction between constitutional and other matters
is illusory and that an extension of the Courts jurisdiction is appropriate.6
However, they argue that a simple extension of jurisdiction is inadequate.
Attention must also be paid to the structure and composition of the Court and
how it should determine what matters to hear.
In Midi, Nugent J.A. railed against the facile assumption that if there is any
risk of prejudice to a fair trial, however speculative, [a ban on publication]
should be ordered. The case involved the broadcasting of a documentary that
included interviews with witnesses to the brutal murder of a six-month old
baby in Cape Town. Nugent J.A.s ruling establishes a high standard for future
cases by holding that:
What is required . . . before a ban on publication will be considered is a
demonstrable relationship between the publication and the prejudice that
it might cause . . . substantial prejudice if it occurs, and a real risk that the
prejudice will occur.
Passed in July 2007 (though notably without the support of the Popular
Partythe main opposition party), the Financing of Political Parties Act
addresses the economic activities of political parties and associations. The
Act guarantees sufficient financial resources for political parties and enhances
supervision of their finances, imposing more exacting duties of transparency.
The choice made was for a mixed system, i.e. one that combines private
and public resources although in a decidedly unbalanced manner, with public
contributions to outweigh private ones.
The strong dependency of political parties on public subsidies has been
occasionally criticized but legislators appeared to consider it an antidote against
corruption and a guarantee of fair play in electoral competition. Among
6 Carole Lewis, Reaching the Pinnacle: Principles, Policies and People for a Single Apex Court in
South Africa (2005) 21 South African Journal on Human Rights 509 at p.519.
7 The plenary complement of 12 judges is divided into two Salas of six judges each.
In his dissent read from the bench on the last day opinions were announced
in OT 2006, Justice Stephen Breyer lamented (while announcing his dissent
in Parents Involved in Community Schools v Seattle School District 127 S. Ct. 2738
(2007)), its not often in law that so few have changed so much so quickly.
June 2007 marked the end of the first full US Supreme Court Term with new
appointees Chief Justice John Roberts and Associate Justice Samuel Alito. After
11 years of unchanging membership, the Term saw a number of decisions that
marked a distinct change of direction, two of which involve significant shifts
from recent prior decisions.
For example, the United States has struggled for decades over how
to regulate campaign financing consistently with the First Amendments
protection of free speech. In McConnell v Federal Election Commission, 540 U.S.
93 (2003), the Court had rejected a facial challenge to a 2002 statute that
prohibited any corporation from broadcasting, shortly before an election,
any communication that names a federal candidate for elected office and is
targeted to the electorate. This provision was designed to prevent use of issue
ads to avoid expenditure limits on express candidate advocacy. This Term,
however, in Federal Election Commission v Wisconsin Right to Life 127 S.Ct.
2652 (2007), the Court concluded that the interests held to justify restricting
corporate campaign speech or its functional equivalent do not justify restricting
issue advocacy, just because a candidate is named, and invalidated the statute
as applied to such issue ads. Similarly, in Stenberg v Carhart, 530 U.S. 914
at 930 (2000), the Court had found unconstitutional a state law banning
so-called partial birth abortions because it lack[ed] any exception for the
preservation of the . . . health of the mother and was an undue burden on
the right to choose an abortion. This Term, in Gonzales v Carhart 127 S.Ct.
1610 (2007), the Court upheld a 2003 federal statute ban on partial birth
abortions, notwithstanding the absence of a health exception, as promoting
the Governments interest in respect for life; medical uncertainty (whether
health would ever require use of the banned procedure) precluded invalidation
on a facial challenge. An unusually biting dissent by Justice Ginsburg criticised
the Courts departure from Stenberg.
Finally, a set of cases involving efforts by local school systems to maintain
racial integration in public (i.e. state) schools by considering race in pupil
assignments yielded a closely divided decision invalidating the assignment
systems: Parents Involved in Community Schools v Seattle School District, 127 S.Ct.
8 The US Supreme Courts yearly term begins on the first Monday of October. The Court typically
hears arguments from October through April, and continues to release opinions through the end of
June, adjourning until the subsequent first Monday of October. October Term 2006 refers to the
period October 2, 2006 to October 1, 2007.
2738 (2007). Though the factual circumstances differ, the failure to extend the
reasoning of Grutter v Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306 (2003), upholding the use of race
as one factor in law school admissions, was notable.
Turning to the docket, the US Supreme Court has nearly total discretion
through its certiorari jurisdiction to decide in which, of the approximately
9,000 petitions it receives each term, it will grant review. The number of cases
heard by the Court has fallen over the past 20 years, culminating in a record low
78 cases argued during OT 2006 (by contrast, the Court granted review in 175
cases in October Term 1988). One interesting development is in the increasing
percentage of argued cases involving business issuesnearly 40 per cent of the
cases granted review in OT 2006. An important public law development did
take place at the very end of the Term though, when the Courtin an unusual
decision reversing its earlier denial of certiorariagreed to hear constitutional
challenges by Guantanamo detainees to the Military Commission Act of 2006s
restrictions on courts jurisdiction (Boumediene v Bush, No.06-1195, certiorari
granted June 26, 2007; see also Military Commissions Act, Pub. Law No.
109-366). In two prior decisions the Court had upheld the jurisdiction of
federal courts to consider petitions from Guantanamo detainees, in the face of
government claims that jurisdiction was lacking, and a prior federal statute that
sought to restrict jurisdiction (see Rasul v Bush 542 U.S. 466 (2004); Hamdan
v Rumsfeld 126 S.Ct. 2749 (2006)).
Early in his tenure, Chief Justice Roberts expressed a desire for greater
unanimity in decisions, because 8:1 or 9:0 decisions give more confidence
in and stability to the law.9 In his first term as Chief Justice, the number of
unanimous decisions of the Court increased (37 per cent in October Term
2005, with a further 11.6 per cent in which there were no dissents). In OT
2006, however, the unanimity rate dropped below the rate in Chief Justice
Rehnquists final Term (to 23.9 per cent). There was also an increase in 5:4
decisions, over the prior Term (from 16 to 23). The issues before the Court
ultimately determine the degree of unanimity that can be expected and, as
OT 2006 reminds us, the Chief Justices ability to achieve greater consensus is
limited.
Jones, P., The Logic of Expressive Collective Action: When will Individuals Nail their
Colours to the Mast?, pp.564581.
Liddle, J., and Michielsens. E., NQOC: Social Identity and Representation in British
Politics, pp.670695.
Morgan, J., A Womans Place, pp.747748.
Widdecombe, A., Feminizing Politics: A Review, pp.749750.
Lovenduski, J., Feminizing Politics: A Reply to Ann Widdecombe and Julie Morgan,
pp.751754.
Lundberg, T.C., Electoral System Reviews in New Zealand, Britain and Canada: A
Critical Comparison, pp.471490.
Moraski, B., Electoral System Reform in Democracys Grey Zone: Lessons from Putins
Russia, pp.536563.
Berinsky, A.J., Assuming the Costs of War: Events, Elites, and American Public Support
for Military Conflict, pp.975997.
Borowiak, C.T., Accountability Debates: The Federalists, The Anti-Federalists, and
Democratic Deficits, pp.9981014.
Lehmkuhl, D., On Government, Governance and Judicial Review: The Case of European
Competition Policy, pp.139159.
Holmes, A., Devolution, Coalitions and the Liberal Democrats: Necessary Evil or
Progressive Politics?, pp.527547.
Sloam, J., Rebooting Democracy: Youth Participation in Politics in the UK, pp.548567.
Fieschi, C., Its a Civic Christmas, pp.69199.
Gibbons, V., Lights, Camera, Inaction? The Media Reporting of Parliament, pp.700708.
McLaren, L. and Johnson, M., Resources, Group Conflict and Symbols: Explaining
Anti-Immigration Hostility in Britain, pp.709732.
Book Reviews
Civil procedure has long been the Cinderella of legal studies, unfashionable and unloved,
but responsible for much of the work that needs to be done. But Cinderella finds her
prince, and Lord Woolfs reforms have given civil procedure the attention it deserves.
Drewry, Blom-Cooper and Blake shine their spotlight on the Court of Appeal, a hitherto
academically neglected subject but the pivotal court of our legal system, to examine how it
is performing and how it could be improved.
The authors rightly emphasise that, in practical terms, the Court of Appeal is the final
court of appeal for other than public law cases. The Appellate Committee of the House of
Lords rightly does not see its role as correcting errors in the application of settled law, it
hears very few cases a year, and a very large proportion of them are human rights and other
public law disputes. This study identifies (with the assistance of interviews with the then
Master of the Rolls, Lord Phillips of Worth Matravers, and 10 other Lords Justices) how
the working practices of the Court have changed and improved over recent years.
After the domination of the Court by the personality of Lord Denning (Master of
the Rolls 19621982), Lord Donaldson (Master of the Rolls 19821992) introduced new
working practices to reduce the delays in hearing cases. Counsel were required to produce
written skeleton arguments. Judges began to spend part of their working life out of court
preparing for the hearing rather than coming to the case knowing little more than the
outline until counsel began their oral submissions. Hearings were reduced in length. With
the assistance of the Woolf reforms and the review of the Court of Appeals practices by Sir
Jeffrey Bowman (formerly senior partner in PricewaterhouseCoopers), judges have become
case managers, and greater efficiency, without the sacrifice of high quality and customer
satisfaction, has been the objective, and the achievement, of the court in recent years.
Drewry, Blom-Cooper and Blake make a very persuasive case on most of the main issues
they address. They approve of the modern requirement (in all but exceptional cases such as
those involving personal liberty) for leave to appeal because it enables the Court to focus
its main resources on properly arguable cases. They contend that the case preparation by
judges has not diminished the importance of oral advocacy, but focused it on the central
issues in dispute. They politely encourage judges to give shorter judgments. In that respect,
as in so many others, the model is Sir George Jessel, Master of the Rolls 18731883,
whose command of the common law was so great that he rarely reserved judgment. They
identify the very serious problem posed by litigants in person, many of whom use the
valuable resources of the courts as a substitute for psychotherapy when pursuing hopeless
applications. Drewry, Blom-Cooper and Blake make the sensible proposal that court time
could and should be saved by introducing a requirement that if a litigant wishes to make
an application for permission to appeal at an oral hearing, he or she must be represented by
counsel.
As this book explains, the Court of Appeals relationship with the Appellate Committee
of the House of Lords (to become the Supreme Court in 2009) has changed. From 1952 to
1968, over 75 per cent of appeals heard by the House of Lords had received leave to appeal
from the Court of Appeal. Today it is very rare for the Court of Appeal to grant permission
to appeal. Blom-Cooper, Drewry and Blake suggest that it may be appropriate to provide
that leave to appeal may only be given by the new Supreme Court.
The authors could usefully have found space, alongside some of the statistical tables, for
more information derived from their interviews on what it is actually like to work as a
Court of Appeal judge. In 1980, Lord Roskill, after being elevated to the House of Lords,
complained that the work load in the Court of Appeal was intolerable; seven days a week,
14 hours a day, and referred to a colleague who had gloomily remarked that until he
had become a member of the Court of Appeal he had wrongly thought that slavery had
been abolished. And the authors are unnecessarily worried (at least in the experience of
this reviewer) that there is a danger of imbalance and dominance at the hearing by a
specialist judge who has studied the papers in advance and who sits with two generalists.
But this is an important study. In R. v Justices of the County of London [1893] 2 Q.B. 476
at 492, Bowen L.J. stated that if no appeal were possible . . . this would not be a desirable
country to live in. Drewry, Blom-Cooper and Blakes stimulating analysis should be read
by anyone interested in the business of the most important court in our legal system.
Whenever a new author takes over a much-loved work many readers instinctively fear the
possible extent of change. Colin Turpins British Government and the Constitution has long
been such a work, but the new sixth edition has acquired a co-author in Professor Adam
Tomkins who has his own distinctive approach to problems of the British constitution. Any
fears that this student classic would have become instantly republicanised may, however,
be firmly quashed. A quick comparison of the fifth and sixth editions reveals how little
has really changed. There is some useful restructuring, particularly in the first chapter on
the constitutional order, and the updating is extremely valuable, but swathes of the text
are left unaltered and most importantly there has been no change in that careful, thorough
(if occasionally a little dense) style that aims to give the reader as much information as
possible. That is not to say that Tomkins has made no impact; there are noticeably more
references to the approach in Scottish law than in previous editions, and the reiterated
focus on constitutional theory in the first two chapters especially is particularly interesting.
Questions about democracy and the role and definition of the state are important to raise
when considering a constitutional structure, and Turpin and Tomkins open up the issues,
albeit briefly, more clearly than previous editions and rival textbooks.
One can sense a kind of dual approach being taken by the authors. For the law student,
and invariably a first-year one, there is much material to get to grips with in order to
grasp the theoretical and practical intricacies of the British constitution, but Turpin and
Tomkins provide a guide that is both immensely detailed and admirably clear. For example,
the discussion of parliamentary sovereignty and the associated views is lucid and thorough
without being overly partisan. It might have been useful to develop the Waldron-style points
made in some of the materials about the judiciary being undemocratic, but space is always
tight. The second approach is to aid the reader who is looking for more depth. In this,
British Government and the Constitution has always been immensely useful. The text is littered
with references to sources of further information. Many are the obvious ones, but many are
far less well-known and the cross-disciplinary references, especially to contemporary works
on British politics, will often be invaluable.
Admirable though the desire to avoid appearing one-sided in particular debates is,
sometimes the readers are left to do too much work themselves. The authors have a slightly
unnerving habit of including very long chunks of a judicial opinion, and then moving on
as though there was nothing more to be said. This happens a number of times throughout
the book, but it is especially unfortunate when the authors have themselves made plain that
the decision is controversial. In a case such as Prolife Alliance1 where a dissenting judgment is
also quoted at length the problem is less acute, but in dealing with a problematic case such
as M v Home Office2 some critical analysis is surely required (pp.8993)? Certainly students
would welcome something to work from, but other readers will surely ask themselves what
precisely the authors really think about such key decisions. The point is made all the more
important by the knowledge that when they do discuss a case critically, as with the Belmarsh
Detainees case3 (pp.762772), it is done with such clarity and contextual detail that the
reader is pulled into the analysis and engages with the material much more fully.
Some of the constitutional issues raised also perhaps warrant more attention being paid to
them. The discussion of the separation of powers in Ch.2 as it actually pertains to the British
constitution is probably faultless, but there is very little talk of why the separation of powers
might be important or valuable. Should we think of it as a doctrine to prevent tyranny, to
aid efficiency or both? The history and evolution of the doctrine of ministerial responsibility
in Ch.9 is both interesting and up-to-date, but it moves on without really trying to answer
where the convention is now. Are ministers responsible, accountable, neither, or is there
some other plausible solution? Most student textbooks would not try to answer these
questions, but they usually do raise them as an area to consider. The unwillingness to go
into much detail on the ultra vires debate (pp.656658) is understandable, but to raise the
thorny issue of deference and then treat Farrakhan as though it were the last word on the
matter (pp.680682) surely cannot be sufficient. What these criticisms are really driving at is
the apparent unwillingness of the authors at key points to engage with the really interesting
normative questions. Obviously, any detailed analysis of the different normative approaches
available to any particular question would involve further time and space in what is already
a hefty work, but this reviewer would have liked to see at least a mention of some of the
different viewpoints on issues such as the separation of powers and constitutional reform.
Perhaps if space were needed some judicious cutting could be done on the chapters and
sections of more obvious relevance to a student of politics than of law or of the constitution.
The treatment of parties, groups and the people in Ch.8 is finely detailed, but overly
descriptive and is unlikely to figure on most constitutional law reading lists. Having said
that, the lengthy introduction to the law of the European Union in Ch.5which one might
think could be read in other more specialised worksis so well done that it is probably
even suitable as a revision aid to EU law students, let alone domestic constitutional ones.
Although the structure has been improved since the fifth edition, a reader wanting to know
about the prerogative is forced to jump around Chs 3, 6, 7 and presumably 10 to get a full
picture, with the split between the material in Chs 6 and 7 seeming particularly unfortunate.
It is also disappointing that the vital development in Nadarajah4 on proportionality and
legitimate expectations is unmentioned in either area, despite it being cited in relation to
the Immigration Rules having legal impact (p.478).
All the criticisms made in this review seem rather minor and nit-picking. They are. It
is difficult to make any foundational attacks on a work that is not attempting to make an
argument, and more importantly, does what it sets out to do so well. Even the typographical
errors that usually litter such publications were few and far between. The fact is that Turpin
and Tomkins have produced a textbook (and despite it containing materials, it is primarily
a textbook) which is masterly in its treatment of a convoluted and evolutionary area of
cross-disciplinary impact. It should be essential reading for students of constitutional law, and
a valuable resource for those looking to think about the British constitution in more depth.
Law and politics are never more intertwined than when investigating the constitution, and
it is a measure of the mastery of both by the authors that the two fade in and out without
undue confusion. Any reader looking for the British constitution, how it works and where
it does not, will find no better introduction than British Government and the Constitution.
C.J.S. Knight*
Civ 1363.
* College Lecturer in Law, Christ Church, Oxford.
Ten years ago two pieces of legislation were introduced that had a fundamental effect on
civil justice in England and Wales. The first, the Civil Procedure Rules 1998 (SI 1998/3132)
(CPR), introduced a new procedural code with the overriding objective of enabling the
court to deal with cases justly (CPR 1.1). The particular significance of the CPR from a
public law perspective is that the judiciary were given a very wide discretion in their case
management powers in order to meet the CPRs Overriding Objective. This was in marked
contrast to the paradigm of the preceding Rules of the Supreme Court, which had been that
the Court acted as a largely passive umpire for an adversarial dispute between private parties.
The second piece of legislation, the Human Rights Act 1998 (HRA), had a less immediately
obvious impact. Most judicial and academic attention has focused on the HRAs impact
on the constitutionally more fashionable subjects of the compatibility of primary legislation
under s.4 of the HRA, and of the acts of criminal justice and administrative bodies under
s.6. The civil courts, although they have largely escaped attention to date, are nevertheless
subject to scrutiny under s.6(3)(a), particularly in relation to their compliance with Art.6(1)
of the European Convention on Human Rights.
The difficulty, which Joseph Jacob examines in this book in meticulous detail, is that the
drafters of the CPR appear to have paid little or no regard to the extensive jurisprudence of
Art.6(1). We might consider this particularly surprising as the architect of the CPR, Lord
Woolf, is an authority on administrative law. However, we also have Woolfs warning to
counsel in Daniels v Walker (Practice Note) [2000] 1 W.L.R. 1382, CA, that he hoped that
judges would resist attempts to introduce Art.6 arguments into case management hearings.
Woolf does not appear to have considered the Convention to have much bearing on civil
justice, and Jacob shows that to have been a significant oversight.
The CPR and the Convention provide two new streams of procedural justice
(p.7). One, the CPR, accompanied by other contemporary civil justice provisions, for
example regarding funding, is concerned with expediency and efficiency. The other, the
Convention, is concerned with identifying a rational system for the recognition of human
dignity and equality. There have not yet been any direct conflicts, but Jacob identifies a
considerable number of areas, for example in relation to evidential privilege and public
interest immunity, and the use of without notice hearings, where the jurisprudence of
the CPR and Art.6(1) appear to take very different approaches. Is either of these streams
stronger than the other? The answer matters to more than just academic proceduralists.
Rights, irrespective of whether legal or human, are empty unless there are means for
their enforcement. Moreover, Jacob is surely correct to say that the method of enforcement
tells us something fundamental about societys underlying meaning (p.3). So here the
clash between the CPRs expediency and the Conventions recognition of dignity and
equality takes on a new significance. This clash is a leitmotif that runs throughout the book,
whether discussing Open Justice, Equality of Arms, Disclosure and Restrictions on
Evidence, or Impartial and Independent Judges, the chapters making up the book. It
is not a conflict that allows of easy resolution. For example, if it is the case that there is a
duty on the courts to publish their decisions, to support a constitutional principle that such
decisions should be open to public scrutiny (pp.8889), then should this cost of publication
be borne by the parties (as the cause of judgment being given) or by the courts (as the
body under public scrutiny), and is this cost proportionate to the constitutional value of the
public scrutiny?
This book is very heavy reading, and is correspondingly rewarding. This is for three
reasons. First, Jacob departs frequently from his stated brief, of the impact of the HRA
on the CPR, to examine recent developments in the principles that underlie English civil
justice more widely. This includes, for Jacob, the very fact that the pragmatic beast that was
the common law is now keen to establish principles at all. The first and longest chapter,
on Open Justice, is based on Jacobs own belief that openness is the keel which gives
both stability and direction to the legal system (p.45). A benefit of not keeping to the
brief is that Jacob will frequently depart from his main course to explore fully interesting
avenues of inquiry. The second reason is that there is a thorough doctrinal examination of
possible conflicts between the different emerging principles and practices, making extensive
reference to the jurisprudence of our domestic courts and of the European Court of Human
Rights. This includes, for example, consideration of whether provisions for the funding of
civil litigation in England comply with the Convention requirement that there be equality
of arms, and with the right of access to the Court. This examination is extremely valuable,
but its range and depth require yet greater concentration from the reader. The third reason
is that Jacob is working in an area that has received very little previous detailed examination,
and he appears to have focused more on undertaking detailed analysis than on developing
an overarching structure. It is therefore not always clear what line of argument some of the
material is following. It is clear from Jacobs conclusion that one of his principal concerns is
that what was then the Department for Constitutional Affairs (now the Ministry of Justice)
is unduly involved in the civil justice system, in breach of the Convention (and presumably
also of the domestic principle of the separation of powers). That concern is not immediately
visible in the analysis of the preceding chapters, although it does hearken back to his original
concern about societys underlying meaning.
Civil Justice in the Age of Human Rights marks a significant contribution by Jacob to the
development of a jurisprudence of civil procedure as an expression of constitutional values,
rather than as simply the rules of a private (and expensive) game between litigants. This is
a development that is already underway elsewhere in Europe. In France, for example, la
procedure civile has frequently now been rebranded as le droit judiciaire, since it concerns in
essence the conduct of the judiciary, one of the three elements of the democratic state, in
its regulation of private affairs. Beyond the contribution of his own arguments, Jacob has
raised a considerable number of issues for further, profitable examination.
Deirdre M. Dwyer*
Transparency has become a widespread nostrum of good governance. For public lawyers,
it is considered a prerequisite for effective and meaningful accountability, providing a
vital safeguard against the abuse of governmental power. Yet this collection of essays,
written by scholars from a range of disciplines, throws considerable doubt upon the virtue
of transparency, both as a coherent ideal and on the regimes and practices intended
to give expression to it in the practice of governance. The volume originated from a
workshop in 2005 hosted to coincide with the entry into force of the United Kingdoms
Freedom of Information Act, co-sponsored by the British Academy and the Economic
and Research Council Public Service Programme. The result is a timely, thoughtful and
thought-provoking collection which examines the theory and practice of transparency
within governance regimes in a variety of national and EU contexts from a range of
disciplinary and sub-disciplinary perspectives. The editors identify their three-fold aims as
seeking: (a) to map the history of transparency and cognate doctrines in government and
public policy; (b) to collect and compare ideas about transparency across different academic
disciplines; and (c) to take discussions of transparency beyond statements of first principles.
The volume is organised into three parts. Part I provides a helpful backdrop to the
discussion, with contributions by the collection editors on the theme of transparency as
a term, an idea and a movement. Christopher Hood provides an illuminating intellectual
history of transparency, seeking to map some of its various strains and meanings. Although
transparency has attained what he describes as quasi-religious significance in governance
debates, he identifies at least three strains of ideas about transparency that originate from
pre-20th century ideas in different contexts and locations: that government should operate
according to stable, predictable rules, as opposed to governance by discretion; that social
affairs should be conducted with a high degree of frankness, openness and candour to
ensure the integrity of public officials; and a related idea that the social world should be
made knowable through methods analogous to the natural sciences. When he turns to 20th
century doctrines of transparency, Hood identifies at least six or seven different locations
in which the term has become prominent, broadly organising them around three sites
of discussion: international governance within supranational institutions; national and sub-
national government, particularly in relations between executive government and its citizens;
and in corporate governance. Although all these ideas take some view of openness and
rules and behaviour, their application to very different subjects and sometimes contradictory
underlying doctrine, lead him to doubt that they add up to a single big idea. Nor are they
new or coherent. The historical and contextual map which he charts is complemented by the
conceptual anatomy which David Heald provides in the following chapter. Heald sketches
the outlines of an analytical framework based on a series of conceptual distinctions that seek
to address the relationship between transparency and several related ideas and the different
ways in which transparency may be designed to operate. Thus he identifies variation in
the direction of transparency (upwards/downwards, or horizontally outwards/inwards), its
orientation (event versus process), temporal character (retrospective versus real time) and its
quality (nominal versus effective). In seeking to understand the dynamics and effectiveness of
policy instruments intended to promote transparency, he emphasises the critical importance
of sensitivity to the context in which transparency measures and mechanisms are located.
The contributions in Part II explore the value of transparency from contrasting disciplinary
perspectives. It is here that the lofty ideals of transparency which public lawyers frequently
espouse lie in a stark and somewhat uncomfortable opposition to the varied positions
taken by social scientists. Birkinshaw is the only legal scholar represented in the collection,
proclaiming that transparency in the form of access to government information is so vital to
democracy that it deserves international recognition as a human right. To this end, he boldly
asserts that freedom of information is necessary for freedom of speech to have value, that it is
a right of citizenship, and that it is fundamental to the expression of all other human rights.
Yet he also acknowledges that the right is a qualified one, which must be balanced against
other human rights such as the right to life and the right to privacy, but he does not elaborate
on how this balancing is or ought to be achieved. David Healds analysis of transparency is
considerably more fine-grained and contextual. Unlike Birkinshaw, he does not characterise
transparency as a human right, but as a set of contested, non-linear relationships with other
values, that sometimes clash and sometimes yield synergies. Where clashes arise, he points
to two literatures which suggest that transparency might properly give way to other values:
(a) economic approaches to social and policy analysis that explore the value of sunlight
and warn of the danger of over-exposure, and (b) sociological literature demonstrating
the positive contribution of ignorance to social functioning, which may explain why the
trade-off observed by economists arises. He grapples directly with the value of transparency
and its potential to conflict with other valued goods, which he lists as: effectiveness, trust,
accountability, autonomy and control, confidentiality, privacy and anonymity, fairness and
legitimacy. For Heald, transparency is of instrumental value, arising from its contribution
to the primary values of effectiveness, trust, accountability and fairness. Careful attention to
the specific habitats in which transparency resides, as well as its directions and variety, is
therefore required in order to make a meaningful normative assessment of its contribution.
While David Healds view of transparency is much more equivocal than that of
Birkinshaw, Onora ONeils contribution is perhaps the most sceptical of all. She begins
with the paradox that it is generally presumed that transparency increases trust and the
trustworthiness of institutions, yet the growth of transparency in contemporary governance
has led to a decline in trust in public officials and institutions. She speculates on why
this paradox has arisen. For her, the answer lies in the distinction between transparency
and communication. Information, she observes, is not like a homing pigeon: it does not
wing its way to relevant and receptive audiences. It can achieve little unless the material
disseminated is made accessible and assessable by relevant audiences, and actually reaches
those audiences. Thus for ONeil, transparency is the fifth wheel on the wagon of public,
commercial and professional accountability, providing an incomplete basis for either
securing trustworthy performance or for placing and refusing trust. This incompleteness
may be at least partly explained by the principal-agent perspective outlined in Pratts
contribution. From an economic perspective, transparency corresponds to the ability of
the principal to observe what the agent does, so that in general, more information about
the agents behaviour makes the agent more accountable and more likely to work for
the good of the principal. However, excessive transparency may create incentives for the
agent to behave in ways that damage the principal, and this might help to account for the
counterproductive tendencies which ONeil observes in the practice of transparency.
In Part III the discussion shifts from the abstract to the concrete by exploring the
impact of transparency on institutional behaviour. Taken together, the contributions in
this section evidence the ways in which laws intended to enhance transparency may be
diluted, side-stepped and undermined by bureaucratic and institutional practice. Drawing
on the experience of several Commonwealth countries, Alasdair Roberts argues that the
laudable aims of freedom of information laws of increasing trust in government and
heralding a new culture of openness in executive government tend in practice to generate
contrary outcomes. He claims that governing institutions in Westminster systems have
proved particularly resilient, capable of rejecting freedom of information laws or developing
new routines to minimise their disruptive effect. He identifies several avoidance strategies,
including direct challenges to the scope of the right (by adopting narrow interpretations
of disclosure obligations, and increasing fees for freedom of information applications) and
informal methods of resistance through changes to record-keeping practices, including
refraining from creating records altogether. He also observes that the introduction of access
to information laws has also been accompanied by corresponding attempts by central
government to exert tighter control over government information, to reduce information
leakages, and implementing warning systems designed to alert central communications
staff to potentially damaging freedom of information requests early in order to manage the
governments response. Andrew McDonald, who was centrally involved in the development
of the United Kingdoms freedom of information laws, endorses Roberts observation that
the introduction of freedom of information legislation does not eliminate conflicts over
the disclosure of government of information, but simply shifts and shapes the terrain
over which such conflicts take place. Because the broad notion of open government is
sufficiently capacious, allowing considerable variation in access to government information
regimes across jurisdictions, several significant methodological challenges are involved in
comparative public policy. Roberts therefore calls for rigour in comparative analysis of
freedom of information regimes, informed by an understanding of local political context,
bureaucratic culture, scope of legislation, its practical value to applicants and an awareness
of the limitations of freedom of information statistics. Accordingly, he is wary of drawing
general conclusions from the examples of avoidance behaviour cited by Roberts, although
he accepts that public usage and understanding is limited, and that it has not delivered all
that its advocates hoped.
James Savage also considers how transparency obligations are vulnerable to evasion or
manipulation, but in the context of Member-State budgetary transparency in the Economic
and Monetary Union. He draws on international relations perspectives to examine the
challenges posed in monitoring compliance with Member State transparency obligations,
observing that the success of such monitors depends on their ability to create a compliance
information system, ie those rules, actors and processes that collect, analyse and disseminate
information on violation and compliance. In particular, the effectiveness of such a system
depends on its capacity to monitor and overcome the twin challenges to budgetary
transparency of disclosure (when political actors fail to provide credible budgetary data
to the monitors) and interpretation (when governments wrongly categorise, intentionally
or otherwise, their data according to existing accounting rules). Savages contribution is
a valuable reminder that attempts to evade transparency obligations can be found in the
behaviour of states in supranational contexts and are not confined to bureaucratic practices
within executive government at the national level. David Stasavage looks at a different facet
of transparency within the European Union, testing the predictions of principal-agent theory
concerning the effects of transparency on collective decision-making against the experience
of decision-making in the EU Council of Ministers. According to principal-agent theory,
the more secretive a decision-making environment, the greater the likelihood representatives
(agents) will take positions that deviate from the prior views of their constituents (principals)
about policy. Yet secretive environments help produce compromises in bargaining and are
more likely to produce frank exchange of views and free deliberation about policies when
compared to more public venues. He argues that the experience of the Council of Ministers
bears out these predictions. While secrecy of decision-making proceedings has led to a
serious problem of accountability, allowing Member State representatives to say one thing
in public and another in private, it has also facilitated attempts to strike bargains.
The two contributions in Part IV provide a window on challenges of transparency
and open government arising in the age of information technology, looking at two quite
specific issues which will seem rather alien to most public lawyers. Jean Camp examines
the relationship between the openness of computer code and democratic government.
She begins from the open software movement initiated by Richard Stallman, who argues
that computer code controls and enables the actions of users, thus, for users to have true
autonomy, they must be able to examine, alter and redistribute the code. The issue she
seeks to explore is the extent to which this observation applies to governmental activities
that are embedded in computer code. By analysing the differences and implications of
open and closed software code, she argues that the issues are much more complex than
the simple notion that open code is good and closed code is not when considering their
implications for effective democratic governance. Helen Margetts considers the ways in
which digital government might be more or less transparent than pre-digital government,
as well as the potential for digital means to overcome the barriers which she identifies. The
high level of specificity of these two papers merely scratches the surface of the relationship
between information technology and transparency, for the advent of technology not only
provides potential opportunities for upwards transparency, enabling citizens to obtain
access to government information, but it also vastly enhances the potential for downwards
transparency, owing to the states technologically-enhanced capacities to glean and gather a
wealth of information about its citizens.
Christopher Hood concludes the volume by gathering together some of the principal
threads emerging from the collection, while adding observations of his own. He argues that
they collectively indicate that there has been a growth in transparency laws, routines and
procedures, including access to government laws, audit and record-keeping requirements,
but notes that several essays doubt whether these have generated greater levels of substantive
openness in government. Although one of Hoods aims was to account for the rising
prominence of transparency as a nostrum of good governance, none of the volumes
contributors were primarily concerned with providing such explanations. Hood nevertheless
identifies three possibilities, drawing on interest group accounts, cultural explanations and
functional accounts. Rather, most of the contributions focus on what transparency
affectswhat impact the rise of transparency has had on the policies and practices of those
subject to its demands, the quality and quantity of the information thereby provided and,
more broadly, the achievement of the goal of greater openness. Although the implementation
of transparency laws is conventionally accompanied by claims that it will enhance public
trust and create a new culture of openness in government, Hood observes that this claim is
unproven, and probably not provable. Indeed, a number of the contributions suggest that
such measures may be futile, jeopardise other values, or even be perverse, reducing rather
than enhancing citizens knowledge of government and its workings. Finally, he reflects on
whether we should value transparency, observing that Birkinshaw is alone in according it
the status of a human right, yet he also suggests that most would share Rousseaus view
that a lack of concealment is an intrinsic social value, even if it does not make us richer,
avoid conflict or achieve other goals. For Hood, the difficult question is to identify exactly
what are the trade-offs between transparency and other values, or qualities that distinguish
it from its more negative forms. He identifies three main values against which transparency
must be traded off arising from the essays: appropriateness of judgments or treatments about
specific cases in conditions of risk or uncertainty (for example, a surgeon who declines risky
cases if surgeons mortality records are published); the ability to conduct mutually beneficial
negotiations effectively without deadlock; and system maintenance in political science in
conditions when no ambiguity about goals or about who benefits and who pays for what
can be admitted. Hood is attracted by the view that transparency is good in some conditions,
but negative in others, leading him to suggest that culture is the catalyst that determines
the social effects of formal transparency measures, especially in conditions where the values
inherent in transparency measures have not pervaded the institutions that have such measures
applied to them. Several of the essays also see blame-conscious cultures as especially likely to
turn transparency measures into standard operating routines that in practice violate the lofty
ideals of transparency theorists, particularly the tendency for (i) box ticking routines that
create frustration and alienation, or (ii) blame avoidance concerns dominating institutional
responses that can produce paradoxical and dysfunctional or tokenistic responses by leaving
audit trails, but fail to fix the substantive problem or the avoidance of record keeping to
ensure collective amnesia.
For public lawyers, this volume is of considerable value in breathing life into a principle
which they generally accord uncritical allegiance and which many narrowly equate with
access to government information regimes. It offers several important lessons. First, it clearly
demonstrates that the principle of transparency is invoked in a broad and diverse range of
contemporary governance contexts well beyond the confines of freedom of information
legislation. Secondly, its implementation in practice is anything but straightforward, with
a number of contributions revealing how institutional action may serve to side-step, avoid
and even overwhelm the intentions underpinning transparency measures. As Hood observes
in his conclusion, prudence seems to justify a strong element of practical scepticism about
the way transparency measures work on the ground. Thirdly, the esteem with which public
lawyers typically view transparency, grandly proclaiming it as a lofty ideal, may be misplaced.
As a general principle, quite apart from problems arising from its practical operation, several
of the contributions indicate that while sunlight may be the best disinfectant, excessive rays
can cause harm. Contrary to Benthams well-known adage, sometimes the more strictly
we are watched, the worse we are likely to behave. Evidence from economics and game
theory suggests that transparency might in some circumstances undermine good decision-
making. Public lawyers might be provoked into reconsidering their criticisms of the courts
continuing refusal to recognise that public authorities are subject to a general duty to give
reasons, or for judicial willingness to accede to claims for confidentiality in aid of the public
interest.
By drawing attention to the ways in which transparency might be counter-productive
in certain circumstances, several contributors grapple directly with the ways in which
transparency may conflict with other valuable goods, including good faith and freedom in
negotiations, candour in collective decision-making and efficiency. Yet there is, surprisingly,
almost no discussion of the right to privacy and the ways in which it may come into
conflict with transparencys demands. Given that there has been a significant growth in
rights consciousness in contemporary culture (including growing recognition of a right to
privacy) that has broadly coincided with the rise and rise of transparency which the
volume emphasises, this is a significant gap. Perhaps this is attributable to the fact that
a preponderance of the contributions adopt perspectives from various standpoints within
political studies, with only one legal scholar contributing. Christopher Hood himself notes
in his concluding comments that few of the essays have considered the ability of citizens
to know about each others identity. In this respect, there is considerable scope for legal
scholars to enrich discussions within political studies, just as this volume illuminates how
legal scholars might learn much from their colleagues in political studies and related social
scientific disciplines. Accordingly, although the volume largely succeeds in achieving its
stated aim of collecting and comparing ideas about transparency across different academic
disciplines, the contributions do not generate much in the way of a substantive dialogue
between disciplinary perspectives. This is not so much a fault on behalf of the editors
or contributors, but serves to highlight the challenges of weaving together insights from
different disciplines that can successfully provide an integrated interdisciplinary perspective.
Karen Yeung*
This edited collection of essays on developments in the protection of privacy interests at the
levels of national and international law is the product of a series of public seminars hosted by
the Centre for Media and Communications Law at the University of Melbourne. A number
of jurisdictions are represented by the contributors to this volume, including England,
the United States, Australia, and New Zealand. The discussion also ranges across the
supranational forms of privacy protection to be found under the European Convention on
Human Rights, EU data protection and privacy and electronic communications directives,
as well as the Privacy Framework agreed by countries belonging to APEC (Asia-Pacific
Economic Co-operation). There is a preponderance of essays devoted to developments
in common law jurisdictions. Of the nine substantive chapters, three (those contributed
5 See, e.g. Gilbert v Medical Economics Co 665 F. 2d 3905 (10th Cir. 1981).
6 532 U.S. 514 (2001).
Instead, the particulars of each claim must be closely considered. Thus, the weakness of the
substance of media claims to freedom of expression in cases such as Von Hannover, A v B &
C as well as Campbell meant that the opposing privacy claims were more likely to emerge
triumphant. Of course, balancing the particular features in any given case in turn gives
rise to a host of new thorny issues. There is a good level of analysis of these developments
across several chapters in the book and some of the problematic issues they provoke.
Nonetheless, the book lacks a counterweight chapter or two that addresses systematically
and in principled terms from a media freedom perspective the problematic features of cases
such as Douglas v Hello, Campbell and Von Hannoverone that takes in the unedifying
commodification of privacy in Douglas and considers the overarching constitutional
difficulties for liberal democracies posed by a form of judicial activism that sets out what
is and is not acceptable journalism, drawing in the process upon some very open-ended
notions of autonomy and dignity. Kenneth Keiths chapter, for example, (Privacy and the
Constitution) fails to addressother than in passingthe legitimacy of judicial creativity
in this area. Raymond Wacks, in a chapter that reminds us why the English judges have
been unwilling to create a fully fledged privacy tort, manages merely to devote two
paragraphs to this critical issue before concluding that [t]hough sometimes contentious,
certain fundamental rights are best kept off-limits to legislators, or, at least, beyond the reach
of normal political machinations. From a public law perspective, the absence of a serious
and sustained examination of the democratic legitimacy of judicially-extended privacy torts
is disappointing.
The normative preference for greater privacy protection that is apparent in parts of
this collection is also manifested in places by an uneven analysis of the substance of
expression/privacy claims. Specifically, whilst the paucity of certain freedom of expression
arguments sometimes made by the media are rightly exposed (a number of authors agree
that expression claims need to be analysed within a tiered approach to speech types in
which political speech is given the greatest protection and gossip about celebrities the least),
there is no equivalent scrutiny of the merits and weight of opposing individual privacy
claims. Take the category of medical information, for example. It is one thing to confer
a high degree of protection upon particularly intimate medical information (such as that
relating to mental health or sexual matters), it would seem quite another to attach the same
importance or weighting to less obviously intimate medical details such as the fact that the
claimant has a cold or has had an operation to remove an in-growing toenail. A similar
range of more-to-less obviously weighty private financial information can also be envisaged.
It is one thing to reveal the claimants salary and bonus details, quite another to state that
last week the claimant spent 10 on a bottle of wine in his local supermarket. It is not
immediately obvious that each privacy infringement should be accorded an equal weight
in any balancing exercise. Furthermore, it must be doubted whether private information that
actually shows the claimant in a favourable light (such as taking sensible measures to address
a personal difficulty as per Naomi Campbell) ought to be considered as having the same
weight as a much less favourable revelation in any balancing exercise. These complexities
would have been worthy of closer analysis
The majority in Campbell were, with the benefit of hindsight, too ready to dictate to the
newspaper the form and content of the journalistic package to be presented to newspaper
readers. As Lord Nicholls for the minority pointed out, once it was conceded that Ms
Campbells lies had put the issue of her drug addiction and treatment squarely into the
public domain, to tell the media that it could not report her attendance at a meeting of
Narcotics Anonymous was decidedly odd. It was equivalent to preventing the media from
revealing the fact that a person whom the public already knew had broken his leg, had
had the affected limb put in plaster. The unremarkable and inconsequential nature of
the additional information did not seem to engage Art.8 anew. Thus, for Lord Nicholls
this extra information did not overcome the first hurdle of constituting obviously private
information. The case for permitting disclosure of the details of Campbells treatment could
independently be said to be strengthened by the legitimate interest of the newspaper in
placing a credible story before its readers. The more the published account was able to
affirm hard details of the treatment, the greater its credibility. This lack of latitude afforded
to the Mirror on the matter of how it was to put its readers straight about Ms Campbells
lies is arguably one of the most disquieting features of the majoritys reasoning. To these
troublesome features of domestic developments we must also add the spectre of the European
Court of Human Rights ruling in Von Hannover. The simplistic dichotomy advanced by
the Strasbourg Court between public and private figures denies the possibility of there
being a legitimate reason for the public to learn details pertaining to someone who is not
performing a public function. This failure to appreciate that the lives of private figures
can become of genuine interest to the public (as when the facts about such persons reveal
something about the working of public institutions/officials and thereby add something to
informed scrutiny and accountability) is rightly criticised by Phillipson.
Other chapters concern themselves with the potential for abuse of privacy interests in
the commercial sphere. Graham Greenleafs chapter on the APEC Privacy Framework,
for example, takes as its focus the international agreement which spans four continents
and one-third of the worlds population. He fears that the low and incomplete standards
contained in the Privacy Framework may come to be accepted a ceiling rather than a
base of privacy protection that compares unfavourably with EU standards and may have
ramifications for the sharing of personal data across frontiers.
David Lindsay and Sam Ricketsons chapter on copyright infringement in digital media
analyses the impact of digital rights management (DRM) technologies that allow copyright
owners to lock-up copyright materials and the threat that such technologies may pose to
the privacy of users. DRM appears to facilitate the identification of end users of copyrighted
material, and can allow the gathering of data about the users identity and access to such
material. The analysis here is partly historical, looking at the how civil and common law
systems have traditionally protected privacy interests and how each is adapting to the era
of digital rights management. The authors contrast rights-based and utilitarian interests-
based approaches to the regulation of copyright and privacy. In the former, legal rules
would protect the autonomy and dignity of both the creators of copyright materials and
also users by imposing limits on the market. Under a utilitarian or interests-based approach
the legitimacy of legal intervention is assessed according to whether the intervention will
promote a more efficient market in copyright material. At present the authors conclude that
it is simply too early in the life of DRM technology to know from either a rights-based
or interests-based perspective how the system is working.
Overall, for scholars working in comparative media law, this collection will prove to
be a valuable resource. Notwithstanding earlier criticisms concerning a lack of balance, the
editors have put together an interesting and thought-provoking set of essays by some of
the leading authorities in privacy law in both its public and private law dimensions across a
number of jurisdictions.
Ian Cram*
* University of Leeds.