For Halsbury's Law Exchange
Pub quizzes often include a round or two on old laws supposedly still in force – the likes of being able to drive livestock over London Bridge, or to have cakes and ale during exams, or whether the death penalty is still in force for arson in the Royal Docks. A number of future answers are about to be altered at the behest of the Law Commission, which has compiled a long list of statutory deadwood to be felled this summer by an axe in the form of the Statute Law (Repeals) Bill.
According to the Law Commission’s press release, the Bill
“... will repeal 817 whole Acts and part repeal 50 other Acts. The Bill covers a diverse range of subjects, from poor relief and lotteries to turnpikes and Indian railways. The earliest repeal is from around 1322 (Statutes of the Exchequer) and the latest is part of the Taxation (International and Other Provisions) Act 2010.”
The press release goes on to list much interesting historical doggerel due to be culled, including:
• An Act of 1856 passed to help imprisoned debtors secure their early release from prison
• A 1710 Act to raise coal duty to pay for 50 new churches in London
• 38 obsolete Acts relating to the various railway companies operating in British India and the wider East Indies
• 40 Acts relating to the City of Dublin and passed by the UK Parliament before Ireland was partitioned in 1921
• A 1696 Act to fund the rebuilding of St Paul’s Cathedral after the Great Fire of 1666
• An 1800 Act to hold a lottery to win the £30,000 Pigot Diamond
• 57 obsolete Acts to raise money for the parish poor, including a 1697 Act to run a workhouse in Exeter
• 295 obsolete railway Acts.
• 16 Acts passed between 1798 and 1828 to impose duty on every pint of ale, beer or porter brewed or sold in parts of Scotland
• A 1696 Turnpike Act to repair the roads between Reigate (Surrey) and Crawley (West Sussex)
The dilatoriness which seems to have accompanied the funding of St Paul’s Cathedral would probably not have surprised Sir Christopher Wren, since Parliament withheld half his salary for the project for 14 years in the hope of spurring him on. Meanwhile internet researches suggest that the Pigot diamond, named after the former governor of Madras (now Chennai) Lord Pigot (1719 – 1777), was reduced to powder on the orders of its owner Ali Pasha, thus rendering the 1800 Act a legal fiction. Nowadays it is not debtors so much as undeserving creditors (in the form of disgraced former bankers) who receive public opprobrium ...
One could go on. But there are two serious points to be made about long forgotten but still surviving legislation. The first is that it cannot be assumed that an Act of Parliament or any other legal rule has disappeared just because it has not been used for many decades or longer. By the 1950s, for example, the Court of Chivalry had not sat for two centuries, and most assumed it had ceased to exist. Yet it was revived in the celebrated case of Manchester Corporation v Manchester Palace of Varieties Ltd [1955] 1 All ER 387: since no case or legislation could be found which had formally abolished the court, it had to be extant.
An earlier and more dramatic example might be Ashford v Thornton (1818) 106 ER 149, where the defendant in a murder case managed to escape liability by invoking the ancient right of trial by battle. As with the Manchester Palace case, the right (to the mode of trial) had not been explicitly abolished by Parliament, and the court accordingly had no option but to rule that it was still available. The plaintiff, a slight chap unwilling to try his luck, declined to join battle, and so the defendant effectively escaped a murder charge.
More recently the Guardian newspaper managed to generate a headline for itself by dredging up before the courts the Treason Felony Act 1848, a remnant from the days of European revolutions which must have alarmed those in Westminster at the time. On the literal reading of s 3 of the Act it appeared that even a publication which called for peaceful overthrow of the monarchy might constitute a criminal act. The Guardian sought, amongst other things, an assurance from the Attorney-General that no prosecution would ensue if it printed some articles advocating Britain becoming a republic. When that was not forthcoming it brought judicial review proceedings, which ultimately made it to the House of Lords (R (on the application of Rusbridger and another) v Attorney General [2003] 3 All ER 784).
The law lords made it clear that the litigation had been a waste of time since no prosecution would ever have been brought, but the Guardian was able to point to the fact that s 3 had never been repealed despite everyone agreeing that it should have been.
It is therefore worth spring cleaning the statute book lest anyone try something similar.
The second reason is that it is a step in a direction the law has always wanted to head, but rarely ever does – simplification. It is pie in the sky to assume that the law will ever be comprehensible to anyone other than experienced professionals, but even they have their work cut out with a statute book that is overlong and clogged up with ancient sections that no-one ever reads and would have no relevance even if they did.
Periodically there are calls for a particular area of law (or even all the laws) to be codified, or better consolidated. Ironically in the days of Empire this is something that Britain usually did for the colonies, who therefore ended up with a better structured statute book than Britain ever managed for itself. For many reasons it is probably unlikely we will ever end up with much codification, but that does not mean that small steps to improvement along the lines of the Statute Law (Repeals) Bill are not worthwhile.
Thursday, 5 April 2012
Friday, 30 March 2012
HLE Event – Law Reporting in the New Media Age
Halsbury's Law Exchange, in partnership with international law firm Eversheds, is hosting an expert panel discussion on how legal reporting is changing in the new media age.
The seminar will focus on the influence of new media, where the law stands now and how it is likely to develop in the future. Topics for discussion will include the impact social media and legal blogs have had in making the law more accessible and widely discussed; the televising, tweeting and real-time blogging of cases; libel, contempt of court and the implications of international blogging beyond the jurisdiction.
Speaking at this event will be:
Joshua Rozenberg (chair) – Legal commentator, blogger and BBC Law in Action presenter
Siobhain Butterworth – Freelance lawyer, writer and Guardian blogger
Katy Dowell – Senior reporter, The Lawyer
David Allen Green – Solicitor, Jack of Kent and New Statesman blogger
Andrew Sharpe – Solicitor, Head of Commercial at LexisPSL and blogger
Adam Wagner – Barrister and founding editor of the UK Human Rights Blog
More details including the rsvp address are at www.halsburyslawexchange.co.uk
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
Not so free speech
For Halsbury's Law Exchange
No sooner had HLE published a post on the joke (in every sense) trial of Paul Chambers than another story appears which leaves one wondering how many in officialdom have even heard of free speech, let alone understood it.
According to this report in the Independent newspaper:
A teenager will appear in court after allegedly making comments on Facebook about the deaths of six soldiers in Afghanistan last week, police said.
Azhar Ahmed, 19, according to West Yorkshire Police, posted the comments on his profile page and has been charged with a racially aggravated public order offence, according to West Yorkshire Police.
A police spokesman said Ahmed, of Fir Avenue, Ravensthorpe, West Yorkshire, was bemoaning the level of attention the British soldiers who died in a bomb blast last week received compared to Afghan civilians who have died in the war.
The offending post has been uploaded by Spectator blogger Alex Massie here.
Leaving aside Ahmed’s fairly shaky grasp of the English language, his post might reasonably be described as offensive. It certainly does not express views I would share, though as it happens I think our stay in Afghanistan has probably outlived its usefulness.
Yet none of that is of any relevance. Ahmed’s published views might properly be called offensive, but if free speech is to mean anything at all, it has to include the freedom to offend. In a democracy, the view of the majority rarely needs defending. The majority has the power to vote away anything with which it disagrees (or disagrees sufficiently for someone to organise a political campaign). It is the ability to offend the majority, challenge the powerful and contest the status quo which needs defending.
It is hard to think of which is worse – prosecuting Paul Chambers because he made a joke, or Azhar Ahmed because he made a statement about the war in Afghanistan. Without dissolving into cliché, it might be observed that one of the key differences between our society and that of the Taliban is that the latter tends to execute anyone not on message politically or religiously. In Britain on the other hand free speech is one of the cornerstones of our society.
It is true that free speech has not always been as robustly defended in Britain as in the United States, but if it has come to prosecutions of inane facebook updates or tweets then we have reached the lowest point since the days of mediaeval persecution. (Incidentally our overworked criminal justice system will likely explode or implode as well.)
Of course there are limits to free speech – protecting intellectual property, or state secrets, or preventing harassment of another – but no sensible restrictions would include making jokes (which are painfully obviously jokes such as Chambers’) or remarks, offensive or otherwise, about the rights and wrongs of the actions of soldiers or the war in Afghanistan.
Extraordinarily basic introduction to free speech over. All that has been offered by way of explanation by the police (quoted by Alex Massie in the article linked above) is that Ahmed:
“... didn’t make his point very well and that is why he has landed himself in bother.”
Assuming the quote not to be severely out of context, it does not deserve a response. Instead I would direct the spokesperson to Art 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, and the history in this country of Lollardism, the Reformation, Milton, JS Mill and much else besides. Alternatively, they could just recall the following quote attributed to Stephen Fry:
“So you’re offended. So f+++ing what?”
No sooner had HLE published a post on the joke (in every sense) trial of Paul Chambers than another story appears which leaves one wondering how many in officialdom have even heard of free speech, let alone understood it.
According to this report in the Independent newspaper:
A teenager will appear in court after allegedly making comments on Facebook about the deaths of six soldiers in Afghanistan last week, police said.
Azhar Ahmed, 19, according to West Yorkshire Police, posted the comments on his profile page and has been charged with a racially aggravated public order offence, according to West Yorkshire Police.
A police spokesman said Ahmed, of Fir Avenue, Ravensthorpe, West Yorkshire, was bemoaning the level of attention the British soldiers who died in a bomb blast last week received compared to Afghan civilians who have died in the war.
The offending post has been uploaded by Spectator blogger Alex Massie here.
Leaving aside Ahmed’s fairly shaky grasp of the English language, his post might reasonably be described as offensive. It certainly does not express views I would share, though as it happens I think our stay in Afghanistan has probably outlived its usefulness.
Yet none of that is of any relevance. Ahmed’s published views might properly be called offensive, but if free speech is to mean anything at all, it has to include the freedom to offend. In a democracy, the view of the majority rarely needs defending. The majority has the power to vote away anything with which it disagrees (or disagrees sufficiently for someone to organise a political campaign). It is the ability to offend the majority, challenge the powerful and contest the status quo which needs defending.
It is hard to think of which is worse – prosecuting Paul Chambers because he made a joke, or Azhar Ahmed because he made a statement about the war in Afghanistan. Without dissolving into cliché, it might be observed that one of the key differences between our society and that of the Taliban is that the latter tends to execute anyone not on message politically or religiously. In Britain on the other hand free speech is one of the cornerstones of our society.
It is true that free speech has not always been as robustly defended in Britain as in the United States, but if it has come to prosecutions of inane facebook updates or tweets then we have reached the lowest point since the days of mediaeval persecution. (Incidentally our overworked criminal justice system will likely explode or implode as well.)
Of course there are limits to free speech – protecting intellectual property, or state secrets, or preventing harassment of another – but no sensible restrictions would include making jokes (which are painfully obviously jokes such as Chambers’) or remarks, offensive or otherwise, about the rights and wrongs of the actions of soldiers or the war in Afghanistan.
Extraordinarily basic introduction to free speech over. All that has been offered by way of explanation by the police (quoted by Alex Massie in the article linked above) is that Ahmed:
“... didn’t make his point very well and that is why he has landed himself in bother.”
Assuming the quote not to be severely out of context, it does not deserve a response. Instead I would direct the spokesperson to Art 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, and the history in this country of Lollardism, the Reformation, Milton, JS Mill and much else besides. Alternatively, they could just recall the following quote attributed to Stephen Fry:
“So you’re offended. So f+++ing what?”
Monday, 12 March 2012
Assisted suicide again
For Halsbury's Law Exchange
UPDATE: see this morning's Telegraph for a potentially interesting development.
Recently Halsbury's Law Exchange (HLE) concluded its student competition by asking the five finalists to provide a video submission on whether or not assisted suicide should be legalized. The videos were all of a high standard and can be viewed on Youtube.
Predictably the videos proffer views as strongly expressed as they are disparate. The fact is that assisted suicide is an issue about which one cannot be uncontroversial. Either one believes that there are certain circumstances in which a person should be permitted to end his or her life, with assistance if necessary, or one does not. Either way, one will encounter passionate, articulate and determined opposition. There is no fence to sit upon.
Elsewhere on HLE an opinion piece by Jacqueline Laing was recently reproduced from the New Law Journal. It argued that assisted suicide equals institutionalised murder, nothing less, no exceptions. There has also been the policy paper for HLE prepared by John Cooper QC, which argues that the existing guidelines released by the Director of Public Prosecutions following the well known Purdy case (R (on the application of Purdy) v Director of Public Prosecutions [2009] UKHL 45, [2009] 4 All ER 1147) are adequate even if they go further than was strictly required by the Purdy decision.
For a different perspective, the formidable Becker-Posner blog has recently posted on the issue (see here and here), both authors supporting some form of assisted suicide based on the rather different perspective of economists, as did the well-publicised paper prepared by Lord Falconer with the support of Dignity in Dying.
It seems to me that there are two broad questions. The first is whether any form of assisted suicide ought to be legal in the first place. This involves questions of philosophy and religion that have been debate more or less throughout recorded history without anything like a consensus emerging. If one answers in the affirmative, then the second question arises of how to devise a legal framework to allow it. This involves defining the permissible circumstances and providing a safeguard against abuse – and abuse in this context equals murder. The second question is almost as difficult as the first.
Needless to say, I cannot attempt a full exposition of either within a blog. For the former I would refer readers to the Philosopher's Brief, filed by a number of eminent United States' authors for a Supreme Court hearing in the 1990s. In common with them I believe that there are indeed circumstances in which assisted suicide one should be permitted.
The cornerstone of the philosophers' argument is the concept of individual autonomy (note that they had to structure their argument to constitute a legal submission in the context of the United States’ constitution rather than an abstract moral philosophy paper). To my mind, however, the key point is that one is already permitted to refuse medical treatment even when certain death will shortly follow - a transplant operation, for example, or taking some form of vital drug. There is something approaching a consensus that that rule is morally just. If, therefore, one may refuse medical intervention even though the consequence of refusal is virtually immediate death, then I would argue that it follows that in certain circumstances one ought to be able to accept treatment with the same result. This is the point that my co-author and I made when writing about the issue for Criminal Law & Justice Weekly in 2010.
The terminally ill Dianne Pretty faced a drawn out and excruciating death due to her degenerative illness. When the courts refused to accept that she might be assisted in suicide at a time and place of her choosing, she had no choice but to suffer precisely the ghastly death she had gone to court to avoid. I would not have wished to have been the one to deliver the news to Ms Pretty about the fate she was to endure. Rather less would I wish to receive the same news if I developed the same illness as Ms Pretty.
All that, however, is not to belittle in any way the strength of the opposing argument. The very idea of a medical professional assisting someone's life to end seems counter-intuitive, to say the least. But it seems to me that the strongest arguments against assisted suicide come when considering how an acceptable legal framework might be developed to permit it. It is not difficult to envisage circumstances whereby continuing to live in ghastly circumstances would be beyond the endurance of any of us. Indeed there is no need to imagine - Diane Pretty faced an actual example. But it is equally easy to imagine circumstances in which permission for assisted suicide might be abused: the aforementioned New Law Journal article does just that. If it transpires that the risks of abuse are too great, then even supporters of assisted dying would have to concede that it should not be permitted.
We must therefore address the second question identified above. Again, I would refer readers to Mr Cooper QC's policy paper for a detailed treatment of the development of how the law has developed to date and the Commission on Assisted Dying for a consideration of how it might be altered in the future.
I would note that while suicide was legalised in 1961, assisted suicide remains illegal. Nothing in the DPP guidelines on when prosecution will be undertaken changes that. While it is fundamental that the Attorney General retains the discretion whether or not to prosecute in any individual case, he and his subordinates have no power to impose a blanket decision never to prosecute. If it transpires that no prosecution ever takes place, despite prima facie evidence offences having been committed, then the DPP may well be found to have been acting unlawfully.
The risks that any legal framework must guard against are obvious. The very elderly or the terminally ill are ipso facto among the more vulnerable members of society. Ms Laing writes that:
“Once enshrined in law, the practice invariably involves a move towards the elimination of those who have not asked to be killed, those who are unwanted, those who are lonely and low-income (KNMG Dutch Physicians Guidelines, Position paper, 23 June 2011), and those whose deaths offer some advantage to third parties controlling the process. It does so because it involves a radically altered mindset.
Organs for transplant are an ongoing incentive for active euthanasia. So too is cost-saving, litigation and payout minimisation, bed clearing, medical research, improper individual concerns about inheritance and even political Malthusianism. In this environment, failures of transparency, ie lies and deception, are both pragmatic and inevitable.”
Can safeguards prevent abuse of this nature? I would observe that the law already has to frame questions of equal magnitude and difficulty elsewhere. Legalising suicide in the first place opens the door to possible abuse. Perhaps more pertinently, the law of self defence, or defence of another, allows what would otherwise be murder. Unlike assisted suicide, the state’s approval has to come after the fact, where the circumstances are harder to reconstruct and therefore the claim of a prospective defendant that he or she was indeed acting to save him or herself or another person is much harder to assess – leading to obvious potential for abuse. Yet no-one suggests that the defence should be removed, because it is a fundamental right to protect one’s life, even if that may entail ending the life of one’s assailant.
Or there is the emotive issue of abortion, with recent newspaper reports suggesting that there are cases of “gendercide” in this country, where some wish for cultural reasons to have sons rather than daughters. This, or any other form of abuse, has not (or not yet) led to a suggestion that abortion should never be allowed.
More detailed suggestions are made in the paper issued by Dignity in Dying. The paper can be accessed on their website. I would suggest that these should indeed be sufficient if rigorously policed and enforced, and preferable to the present situation where all seems to turn on the DPP’s interpretation of its own guidelines.
UPDATE: see this morning's Telegraph for a potentially interesting development.
Recently Halsbury's Law Exchange (HLE) concluded its student competition by asking the five finalists to provide a video submission on whether or not assisted suicide should be legalized. The videos were all of a high standard and can be viewed on Youtube.
Predictably the videos proffer views as strongly expressed as they are disparate. The fact is that assisted suicide is an issue about which one cannot be uncontroversial. Either one believes that there are certain circumstances in which a person should be permitted to end his or her life, with assistance if necessary, or one does not. Either way, one will encounter passionate, articulate and determined opposition. There is no fence to sit upon.
Elsewhere on HLE an opinion piece by Jacqueline Laing was recently reproduced from the New Law Journal. It argued that assisted suicide equals institutionalised murder, nothing less, no exceptions. There has also been the policy paper for HLE prepared by John Cooper QC, which argues that the existing guidelines released by the Director of Public Prosecutions following the well known Purdy case (R (on the application of Purdy) v Director of Public Prosecutions [2009] UKHL 45, [2009] 4 All ER 1147) are adequate even if they go further than was strictly required by the Purdy decision.
For a different perspective, the formidable Becker-Posner blog has recently posted on the issue (see here and here), both authors supporting some form of assisted suicide based on the rather different perspective of economists, as did the well-publicised paper prepared by Lord Falconer with the support of Dignity in Dying.
It seems to me that there are two broad questions. The first is whether any form of assisted suicide ought to be legal in the first place. This involves questions of philosophy and religion that have been debate more or less throughout recorded history without anything like a consensus emerging. If one answers in the affirmative, then the second question arises of how to devise a legal framework to allow it. This involves defining the permissible circumstances and providing a safeguard against abuse – and abuse in this context equals murder. The second question is almost as difficult as the first.
Needless to say, I cannot attempt a full exposition of either within a blog. For the former I would refer readers to the Philosopher's Brief, filed by a number of eminent United States' authors for a Supreme Court hearing in the 1990s. In common with them I believe that there are indeed circumstances in which assisted suicide one should be permitted.
The cornerstone of the philosophers' argument is the concept of individual autonomy (note that they had to structure their argument to constitute a legal submission in the context of the United States’ constitution rather than an abstract moral philosophy paper). To my mind, however, the key point is that one is already permitted to refuse medical treatment even when certain death will shortly follow - a transplant operation, for example, or taking some form of vital drug. There is something approaching a consensus that that rule is morally just. If, therefore, one may refuse medical intervention even though the consequence of refusal is virtually immediate death, then I would argue that it follows that in certain circumstances one ought to be able to accept treatment with the same result. This is the point that my co-author and I made when writing about the issue for Criminal Law & Justice Weekly in 2010.
The terminally ill Dianne Pretty faced a drawn out and excruciating death due to her degenerative illness. When the courts refused to accept that she might be assisted in suicide at a time and place of her choosing, she had no choice but to suffer precisely the ghastly death she had gone to court to avoid. I would not have wished to have been the one to deliver the news to Ms Pretty about the fate she was to endure. Rather less would I wish to receive the same news if I developed the same illness as Ms Pretty.
All that, however, is not to belittle in any way the strength of the opposing argument. The very idea of a medical professional assisting someone's life to end seems counter-intuitive, to say the least. But it seems to me that the strongest arguments against assisted suicide come when considering how an acceptable legal framework might be developed to permit it. It is not difficult to envisage circumstances whereby continuing to live in ghastly circumstances would be beyond the endurance of any of us. Indeed there is no need to imagine - Diane Pretty faced an actual example. But it is equally easy to imagine circumstances in which permission for assisted suicide might be abused: the aforementioned New Law Journal article does just that. If it transpires that the risks of abuse are too great, then even supporters of assisted dying would have to concede that it should not be permitted.
We must therefore address the second question identified above. Again, I would refer readers to Mr Cooper QC's policy paper for a detailed treatment of the development of how the law has developed to date and the Commission on Assisted Dying for a consideration of how it might be altered in the future.
I would note that while suicide was legalised in 1961, assisted suicide remains illegal. Nothing in the DPP guidelines on when prosecution will be undertaken changes that. While it is fundamental that the Attorney General retains the discretion whether or not to prosecute in any individual case, he and his subordinates have no power to impose a blanket decision never to prosecute. If it transpires that no prosecution ever takes place, despite prima facie evidence offences having been committed, then the DPP may well be found to have been acting unlawfully.
The risks that any legal framework must guard against are obvious. The very elderly or the terminally ill are ipso facto among the more vulnerable members of society. Ms Laing writes that:
“Once enshrined in law, the practice invariably involves a move towards the elimination of those who have not asked to be killed, those who are unwanted, those who are lonely and low-income (KNMG Dutch Physicians Guidelines, Position paper, 23 June 2011), and those whose deaths offer some advantage to third parties controlling the process. It does so because it involves a radically altered mindset.
Organs for transplant are an ongoing incentive for active euthanasia. So too is cost-saving, litigation and payout minimisation, bed clearing, medical research, improper individual concerns about inheritance and even political Malthusianism. In this environment, failures of transparency, ie lies and deception, are both pragmatic and inevitable.”
Can safeguards prevent abuse of this nature? I would observe that the law already has to frame questions of equal magnitude and difficulty elsewhere. Legalising suicide in the first place opens the door to possible abuse. Perhaps more pertinently, the law of self defence, or defence of another, allows what would otherwise be murder. Unlike assisted suicide, the state’s approval has to come after the fact, where the circumstances are harder to reconstruct and therefore the claim of a prospective defendant that he or she was indeed acting to save him or herself or another person is much harder to assess – leading to obvious potential for abuse. Yet no-one suggests that the defence should be removed, because it is a fundamental right to protect one’s life, even if that may entail ending the life of one’s assailant.
Or there is the emotive issue of abortion, with recent newspaper reports suggesting that there are cases of “gendercide” in this country, where some wish for cultural reasons to have sons rather than daughters. This, or any other form of abuse, has not (or not yet) led to a suggestion that abortion should never be allowed.
More detailed suggestions are made in the paper issued by Dignity in Dying. The paper can be accessed on their website. I would suggest that these should indeed be sufficient if rigorously policed and enforced, and preferable to the present situation where all seems to turn on the DPP’s interpretation of its own guidelines.
Sunday, 11 March 2012
Cross about work
The headline in today's Telegraph (10 March 2012) warns of an impending ECHR case in which the claimants want to establish the right to wear a cross at work, as a symbol of their religious faith.
A few questions:
- should the state have anything to do with workplace clothing regulations?
- if so, should it allow exemptions on health and safety grounds, or for any other reason?
- if so, who is going to decide what is a genuine symbol, or someone taking the mickey?
- what of religious institutions such as faith schools?
A few questions:
- should the state have anything to do with workplace clothing regulations?
- if so, should it allow exemptions on health and safety grounds, or for any other reason?
- if so, who is going to decide what is a genuine symbol, or someone taking the mickey?
- what of religious institutions such as faith schools?
Thursday, 8 March 2012
A modern-day "conchie"
Published in Criminal Law and Justice Weekly, vol 176, 3 March 2012, p 135
Conscientious objection to military service has provided much drama in both fiction and real life for many years. In fiction one finds examples in the recent Downton Abbey, or the gentle Private Godfrey in Dad’s Army, and countless other works as well.
The most famous non-fiction example is possibly Mohammad Ali, who chose jail rather than serving in Vietnam against an enemy he did not know on behalf of a state that declined to afford him full civil rights.
Recently the case of R v Lyons [2011] EWCA Crim 2808 raised the same issue in the context of Britain’s modern wars.
Lyons held the rank of leading medical assistant in the Royal Navy. In May 2010 he was told he would be deployed to Afghanistan. He formed the view that the UK’s involvement in the conflict was wrong and that it would be morally wrong for him to take part. He therefore applied for discharge on the ground that he was a conscientious objector. The application was refused and he appealed. Before his appeal was determined, he was ordered to undertake a pre-deployment weapons training course. He refused to participate. He was court-martialed and found guilty of intentionally disobeying a lawful command contrary to s 12(1)(a) of the Armed Forces Act 2006. He was sentenced to seven months’ military detention, demoted to able seaman and dismissed from the service. He appealed against sentence.
Historical background
Objection to war – a particular conflict or warfare in general – on religious or secular grounds is no doubt as old as war itself. In Britain the armed forces have historically been recruited on a volunteer basis. Full-scale conscription was unknown in this country until the Great War, when the British army found itself drawn irrevocably into the sort of full-scale conflict on the Continent which it had spent a century planning to avoid. By contrast, most Continental powers had had compulsory military service for generations, the modern origins lying in the French Revolution and the subsequent creation of the Grande Armée.
It is therefore noteworthy that Britain was the first amongst European powers to have formal legal recognition of conscientious objection. Mention was made in the Militia Act 1757, but the story in modern times begins with the Military Service Act 1916, an Act which simultaneously introduced conscription and the recognition of objection on the ground of conscience.
During the Second World War, nearly 60,000 registered as Conscientious Objectors. After national service ended at the start of the 1960s, formal procedures for dealing with conscientious objectors fell away, until in 1970 the Advisory Committee on Conscientious Objectors (ACCO) was formed as a non-departmental public body to advise the Secretary of State for Defence.
Continue reading here.
Thursday, 23 February 2012
Old Number One or New Number One?
I have been published in this week's New Law Journal, vol 162, 24 February 2012, p302, on the case of the vintage Bentley.
Monday, 20 February 2012
Same-sex marriage again
For Halsbury's Law Exchange
Last year the Scottish government began a consultation process asking if marriage in Scotland should be allowed for gay people through a civil or religious ceremony. The strength of opposing feelings on the issue is hinted at by the fact that on Valentine’s Day more than 1,000 people marched through Edinburgh in favour of the idea, whereas last year a pressure group calling itself “Scotland For Marriage” held a rally outside the Scottish Parliament to protest against it.
The issue has also been debated recently in Australia. Meanwhile the Nigerian government has not simply banned same-sex marriage, it has actually made the idea a criminal offence, with a penalty of 14 years’ imprisonment for any person who enters into a same-sex marriage contract or civil union. Apparently even that law was thought insufficient, and a separate offence was therefore passed which made “witness[ing], abet[ting] or aid[ing] the solemnization of same-sex-marriage” punishable by up to 10 years’ imprisonment.
It remains the case in the United Kingdom under s 11(c) of the Matrimonial Causes Act 1973 that a marriage can be entered into only by a male and a female, but there have been significant developments over the past decade or so.
The first was the passage of the Human Rights Act 1998. Article 12 of the European Convention on Human Rights provides:
Men and women of marriageable age have the right to marry and to found a family, according to the national laws governing the exercise of this right.
Article 12 does not settle the issue because the European Court of Human Rights has decided (in Schalk and Kopf v. Austria) that it is a matter for national authorities to decide whether to allow same-sex marriage. The court’s reasoning was based in part on the fact that there was no consensus across member states on the issue (some, such as Spain, already allow same-sex marriages, but others do not).
More significant in the UK was the passing of the Civil Partnership Act 2004, which allowed same-sex couples to enter into a union conferring the same legal rights as marriage in the area of wills, tax and so on. Interestingly, the right to enter into civil unions was restricted to same-sex couples, even though the form of partnership – legal rights with no religious implications – might equally appeal to some heterosexual couples.
The next step was the lifting the restriction on conducting civil partnerships on religious premises by an amendment to the Equality Act 2010 – though (at least at present) no religious institution can be compelled to conduct them.
The remaining question is of course the most emotive of all: whether same-sex marriage will be recognised in law, and if so, whether that step will be taken (and supported) by Parliament or by the courts.
It is next to impossible to imagine that the courts will find a right to same-sex marriage in any existing domestic statute, and given that the European Court of Human Rights explicitly refused to find such a right in the Convention, that option will not be taken by the domestic courts either. Even if the courts did take the step themselves, if Parliament disagreed it could either refuse to recognise the court’s ruling (if it came from Europe) or legislate to overrule it (if it came from a domestic court).
Realistically therefore the only way a change will come about will be by an amendment by Parliament to the 1973 Act. One would expect the robust debate in Scotland to be mirrored in the rest of the country before any such step is taken.
In previous articles on the subject I have suggested a possible solution along the lines of France, to separate church and state completely with regard to marriage. The legal contract of marriage should be signed in a registry office only. Thereafter, at any time(s) and place(s) of their choosing, couples could perform any ceremony they wish at any religious or non religious venue.
The well known American lawyer Alan Dershowitz advanced a similar view a few years ago, going one step further by arguing that the state should only confer civil partnerships, and leave the dispensing of the word “marriage” to the free market.
Either solution would mean that religious groups would not consider marriage to be valid, other than as a legal nicety, unless their own blessing had been bestowed in accordance with their own tenets. Non-religious people would be happy as they would have the legal right to the word “marriage” without any religious connotation.
No doubt many will disagree, but in response I would simply say that removing state control of the issue would leave it to the marketplace of ideas.
Last year the Scottish government began a consultation process asking if marriage in Scotland should be allowed for gay people through a civil or religious ceremony. The strength of opposing feelings on the issue is hinted at by the fact that on Valentine’s Day more than 1,000 people marched through Edinburgh in favour of the idea, whereas last year a pressure group calling itself “Scotland For Marriage” held a rally outside the Scottish Parliament to protest against it.
The issue has also been debated recently in Australia. Meanwhile the Nigerian government has not simply banned same-sex marriage, it has actually made the idea a criminal offence, with a penalty of 14 years’ imprisonment for any person who enters into a same-sex marriage contract or civil union. Apparently even that law was thought insufficient, and a separate offence was therefore passed which made “witness[ing], abet[ting] or aid[ing] the solemnization of same-sex-marriage” punishable by up to 10 years’ imprisonment.
It remains the case in the United Kingdom under s 11(c) of the Matrimonial Causes Act 1973 that a marriage can be entered into only by a male and a female, but there have been significant developments over the past decade or so.
The first was the passage of the Human Rights Act 1998. Article 12 of the European Convention on Human Rights provides:
Men and women of marriageable age have the right to marry and to found a family, according to the national laws governing the exercise of this right.
Article 12 does not settle the issue because the European Court of Human Rights has decided (in Schalk and Kopf v. Austria) that it is a matter for national authorities to decide whether to allow same-sex marriage. The court’s reasoning was based in part on the fact that there was no consensus across member states on the issue (some, such as Spain, already allow same-sex marriages, but others do not).
More significant in the UK was the passing of the Civil Partnership Act 2004, which allowed same-sex couples to enter into a union conferring the same legal rights as marriage in the area of wills, tax and so on. Interestingly, the right to enter into civil unions was restricted to same-sex couples, even though the form of partnership – legal rights with no religious implications – might equally appeal to some heterosexual couples.
The next step was the lifting the restriction on conducting civil partnerships on religious premises by an amendment to the Equality Act 2010 – though (at least at present) no religious institution can be compelled to conduct them.
The remaining question is of course the most emotive of all: whether same-sex marriage will be recognised in law, and if so, whether that step will be taken (and supported) by Parliament or by the courts.
It is next to impossible to imagine that the courts will find a right to same-sex marriage in any existing domestic statute, and given that the European Court of Human Rights explicitly refused to find such a right in the Convention, that option will not be taken by the domestic courts either. Even if the courts did take the step themselves, if Parliament disagreed it could either refuse to recognise the court’s ruling (if it came from Europe) or legislate to overrule it (if it came from a domestic court).
Realistically therefore the only way a change will come about will be by an amendment by Parliament to the 1973 Act. One would expect the robust debate in Scotland to be mirrored in the rest of the country before any such step is taken.
In previous articles on the subject I have suggested a possible solution along the lines of France, to separate church and state completely with regard to marriage. The legal contract of marriage should be signed in a registry office only. Thereafter, at any time(s) and place(s) of their choosing, couples could perform any ceremony they wish at any religious or non religious venue.
The well known American lawyer Alan Dershowitz advanced a similar view a few years ago, going one step further by arguing that the state should only confer civil partnerships, and leave the dispensing of the word “marriage” to the free market.
Either solution would mean that religious groups would not consider marriage to be valid, other than as a legal nicety, unless their own blessing had been bestowed in accordance with their own tenets. Non-religious people would be happy as they would have the legal right to the word “marriage” without any religious connotation.
No doubt many will disagree, but in response I would simply say that removing state control of the issue would leave it to the marketplace of ideas.
Monday, 13 February 2012
Free speech and street preaching
Published on Halsbury's Law Exchange here
The limits of free speech and freedom of religion are presently on trial once again with the reported prosecution of a Christian street preacher, Michael Overd, in the Magistrates’ Court. The case arises out of threatening remarks Mr Overd allegedly made in public to a homosexual couple.
The trial brings to mind a similar prosecution from earlier this century, of the street preacher Harry Hammond. I wrote about the trial for Criminal Law & Justice Weekly (vol 175, September 10 2011, p 527), and this blog is substantially based on that article.
I am insufficiently familiar with the facts of the Overd case to comment on its merits, and to do so would be inappropriate before the conclusion of the trial in any event. My comments are therefore in relation to Hammond’s case only (which was on related but not identical issues), and are not to be taken as agitating for a verdict either way with Overd’s.
Hammond was an Evangelical Christian who had been a street preacher for 20 years. The Justices described him as “a sincere man with deeply held religious beliefs and a desire to convert others to his way of thinking.” During the summer of 2001 he had a large double sided sign made bearing the words: ‘Stop Immorality’, ‘Stop Homosexuality’ and ‘Stop Lesbianism’ on each side and attached to a pole.
Prior to 13 October 2001, Hammond had on at least one previous occasion preached whilst displaying the sign and had received a hostile reaction from members of the public, some of whom attempted to deface the sign and leading to one person trying to set it on fire.
During the afternoon of Saturday 13 October 2001, Hammond travelled by bus to Bournemouth to preach with the sign. During the bus journey he covered the sign with a black plastic bin liner as he believed the sign might cause a fracas if displayed inside the bus, because of the reaction he had previously received.
On arriving at Bournemouth town centre, he positioned himself in a pedestrianised area and began preaching, holding the sign upright so that it was clearly visible to passers-by.
A group of 30 to 40 people gathered around him, arguing and shouting; some people in the crowd were angry, others were aggressive or distressed; some threw soil at him and one person was hit over the head with the placard.
At one point someone tried to pull the placard away from Hammond, during which he fell backwards to the ground. He got up again and continued with his preaching displaying the sign, whereupon a member of the public poured water over his head.
The police arrived and asked him to take the sign down and leave the area. He refused. Despite the fact that he seems to have been more on the receiving end of the violence, Hammond was arrested and charged with an offence under s 5 of the Public Order Act 1986. He was convicted, and then appealed by way of case stated to the Divisional Court. Sadly he died before the appeal could be heard, but the court went ahead in any event.
The court ruled that it was necessary for the prosecution to prove that the sign which Hammond was displaying was threatening, abusive or insulting and that it was within the hearing or sight of a person likely to be caused harassment, alarm or distress thereby. It was a defence for Hammond to prove that, nevertheless, his conduct was reasonable.
The court concluded, not without hesitation, that the conviction should stand. It held that (i) the words on the sign were capable of being held to be insulting, not least because they appeared to relate homosexuality and lesbianism to immorality; and (ii), notwithstanding familiar free speech arguments advanced on Hammond’s behalf, it had been open to the Justices to find his conduct unreasonable.
Harry Hammond’s life and death therefore stand as part of the matrix of religion and the law, and freedom of expression generally.
Two things have been common to many cases in that matrix, including Hammond’s. First, they concern people expressing genuine and deeply held beliefs that until very recently represented mainstream opinion in this country.
Secondly, for those involving homosexuality at least, they involve the expression or manifestation of opinions that would never be tolerated if they concerned other minority traits such as race.
Thus arises the key question at the heart of liberal philosophy: how to tolerate intolerance. In the context of free speech I have long endorsed the analogy advanced by Judge Richard Posner with America’s cold war strategy. America’s front line against the USSR, he observed, was not the Potomac but the Elbe. It was hoped that any conflict would be safely away from American soil, meaning ground could be ceded here and there without threatening their core interests.
Similarly, advocates of free speech argue for a wider protection than that strictly necessary to preserve values such as open and free political discussion, artistic freedom and personal fulfillment. They spend their time defending often offensive, sadistic, sordid or nonsensical manifestations of speech. By doing so they calculate that speech that is merely offensive, or indeed simply not finding favour with the political agenda of the government of the day, is never threatened.
Peter Tatchell, the inveterate homosexual rights campaigner, advanced a similar view when commenting on Hammond’s case at the time of the original conviction:
“Criminalising prejudiced opinions is a step too far. Where do you draw the line between legitimate robust criticism and illegitimate rank prejudice? The only circumstance where there is a clearly valid case for limiting freedom of speech is when it involves inciting violence”
No-one would have known better than Mr Tatchell that only a few years before it would have been gay rights campaigners like himself who were getting assaulted in town squares by angry crowds.
He would also have known that it was hardly likely, to put it mildly, that any passer-by would suddenly undergo a radical and irreversible change in their beliefs simply after seeing and hearing the sermons of Mr Hammond. I have seen many a street preacher but never an audience for one.
As much as I deplore homophobia, I remain uneasy with Harry Hammond being made a criminal, for two reasons. First, he was expressing a political or religious or moral viewpoint, and freedom of speech, if it is to mean anything, has to include freedom to make offensive speech on such issues (no-one is likely to complain about inoffensive speech, which accordingly is unlikely to have its freedom curtailed). The proper response for anyone who disagreed was more speech, pointing out the flaws in his arguments.
Secondly, Mr Hammond by all accounts was otherwise a law abiding citizen, who simply outlived the mores of his time. I doubt all of us will be wholly immune from the same fate.
The limits of free speech and freedom of religion are presently on trial once again with the reported prosecution of a Christian street preacher, Michael Overd, in the Magistrates’ Court. The case arises out of threatening remarks Mr Overd allegedly made in public to a homosexual couple.
The trial brings to mind a similar prosecution from earlier this century, of the street preacher Harry Hammond. I wrote about the trial for Criminal Law & Justice Weekly (vol 175, September 10 2011, p 527), and this blog is substantially based on that article.
I am insufficiently familiar with the facts of the Overd case to comment on its merits, and to do so would be inappropriate before the conclusion of the trial in any event. My comments are therefore in relation to Hammond’s case only (which was on related but not identical issues), and are not to be taken as agitating for a verdict either way with Overd’s.
Hammond was an Evangelical Christian who had been a street preacher for 20 years. The Justices described him as “a sincere man with deeply held religious beliefs and a desire to convert others to his way of thinking.” During the summer of 2001 he had a large double sided sign made bearing the words: ‘Stop Immorality’, ‘Stop Homosexuality’ and ‘Stop Lesbianism’ on each side and attached to a pole.
Prior to 13 October 2001, Hammond had on at least one previous occasion preached whilst displaying the sign and had received a hostile reaction from members of the public, some of whom attempted to deface the sign and leading to one person trying to set it on fire.
During the afternoon of Saturday 13 October 2001, Hammond travelled by bus to Bournemouth to preach with the sign. During the bus journey he covered the sign with a black plastic bin liner as he believed the sign might cause a fracas if displayed inside the bus, because of the reaction he had previously received.
On arriving at Bournemouth town centre, he positioned himself in a pedestrianised area and began preaching, holding the sign upright so that it was clearly visible to passers-by.
A group of 30 to 40 people gathered around him, arguing and shouting; some people in the crowd were angry, others were aggressive or distressed; some threw soil at him and one person was hit over the head with the placard.
At one point someone tried to pull the placard away from Hammond, during which he fell backwards to the ground. He got up again and continued with his preaching displaying the sign, whereupon a member of the public poured water over his head.
The police arrived and asked him to take the sign down and leave the area. He refused. Despite the fact that he seems to have been more on the receiving end of the violence, Hammond was arrested and charged with an offence under s 5 of the Public Order Act 1986. He was convicted, and then appealed by way of case stated to the Divisional Court. Sadly he died before the appeal could be heard, but the court went ahead in any event.
The court ruled that it was necessary for the prosecution to prove that the sign which Hammond was displaying was threatening, abusive or insulting and that it was within the hearing or sight of a person likely to be caused harassment, alarm or distress thereby. It was a defence for Hammond to prove that, nevertheless, his conduct was reasonable.
The court concluded, not without hesitation, that the conviction should stand. It held that (i) the words on the sign were capable of being held to be insulting, not least because they appeared to relate homosexuality and lesbianism to immorality; and (ii), notwithstanding familiar free speech arguments advanced on Hammond’s behalf, it had been open to the Justices to find his conduct unreasonable.
Harry Hammond’s life and death therefore stand as part of the matrix of religion and the law, and freedom of expression generally.
Two things have been common to many cases in that matrix, including Hammond’s. First, they concern people expressing genuine and deeply held beliefs that until very recently represented mainstream opinion in this country.
Secondly, for those involving homosexuality at least, they involve the expression or manifestation of opinions that would never be tolerated if they concerned other minority traits such as race.
Thus arises the key question at the heart of liberal philosophy: how to tolerate intolerance. In the context of free speech I have long endorsed the analogy advanced by Judge Richard Posner with America’s cold war strategy. America’s front line against the USSR, he observed, was not the Potomac but the Elbe. It was hoped that any conflict would be safely away from American soil, meaning ground could be ceded here and there without threatening their core interests.
Similarly, advocates of free speech argue for a wider protection than that strictly necessary to preserve values such as open and free political discussion, artistic freedom and personal fulfillment. They spend their time defending often offensive, sadistic, sordid or nonsensical manifestations of speech. By doing so they calculate that speech that is merely offensive, or indeed simply not finding favour with the political agenda of the government of the day, is never threatened.
Peter Tatchell, the inveterate homosexual rights campaigner, advanced a similar view when commenting on Hammond’s case at the time of the original conviction:
“Criminalising prejudiced opinions is a step too far. Where do you draw the line between legitimate robust criticism and illegitimate rank prejudice? The only circumstance where there is a clearly valid case for limiting freedom of speech is when it involves inciting violence”
No-one would have known better than Mr Tatchell that only a few years before it would have been gay rights campaigners like himself who were getting assaulted in town squares by angry crowds.
He would also have known that it was hardly likely, to put it mildly, that any passer-by would suddenly undergo a radical and irreversible change in their beliefs simply after seeing and hearing the sermons of Mr Hammond. I have seen many a street preacher but never an audience for one.
As much as I deplore homophobia, I remain uneasy with Harry Hammond being made a criminal, for two reasons. First, he was expressing a political or religious or moral viewpoint, and freedom of speech, if it is to mean anything, has to include freedom to make offensive speech on such issues (no-one is likely to complain about inoffensive speech, which accordingly is unlikely to have its freedom curtailed). The proper response for anyone who disagreed was more speech, pointing out the flaws in his arguments.
Secondly, Mr Hammond by all accounts was otherwise a law abiding citizen, who simply outlived the mores of his time. I doubt all of us will be wholly immune from the same fate.
Monday, 30 January 2012
Dr Jeffrey John: religious office and employment discrimination
Published on Halsbury's Law exchange here.
Religion, equality and the law has formed the subject of many blogs on this site in the past year or so. Once again the media have found a dispute which requires balancing the competing rights. It concerns Canon Jeffrey John, who has allegedly been passed over for promotion in the Church of England because of his homosexuality. According to the Guardian:
"Dr Jeffrey John … a celibate priest who is in a longstanding civil partnership with another cleric – was prevented from becoming the bishop of Southwark after the archbishops of Canterbury and York stepped in.
Reports on Sunday suggested John had become so exasperated at his treatment that he had hired… an employment and discrimination law specialist… to fight his case under equality law."
Although the competing considerations are many, the nub of the issue can be stated simply. As a starting point, everyone has the right to practice his or her religion. Everyone also has the right to do as they please with their own premises. Employers may choose whomsoever they wish for their staff.
As against that, everyone has the right not to be discriminated against on the basis of race, gender or sexual orientation.
The question is how to balance those rights when they conflict. On one hand, if a religious employer wants all members of her or his staff to be practising members of the religion, one might say that no outsider has the right to object. If the religion in question has particular moral tenets (and all do, almost by definition), then its followers would be expected to conform with them.
On the other hand, no non-religious employer would be allowed to implement an unlawfully discriminatory employment policy on the ground of a secular moral code. For example, a law firm specialising in criminal law could not insist on recruiting only male solicitors because the crusty old partners took the view that criminal law was “not a job for ladies” (as I once heard an elderly Rumpolesque barrister opine, not so many years ago).
So does the Church’s right to run itself according to its own tenets and beliefs trump Dr John’s right not to be discriminated against in his employment?
First we need to deal with a red herring, namely whether or not Dr John is actually an “employee”. It is no answer to try and be slippery about whether church office amounts to “employment”. Recently it has been held in a different context that the relationship between priest and bishop might be akin to employment (JGE v English Province of Our Lady of Charity and another [2011] All ER (D) 50 (Nov)). Either way, there is no doubting that but for the religious context there could be no evading anti-discrimination laws by the institution in question declaring that its office holders are not employees, any more than an employee could avoid income tax by using the word “subcontractor” instead of “employee” if there was no change to the underlying contractual arrangement.
It therefore has to be decided whether there is a valid distinction between Dr John’s case and that of the hypothetical female solicitor. In the US, the distinction would run on the following grounds: there is no link between being a lawyer and being a man. On no objective ground could it be justifiable to prefer men to women for the role of a solicitor. By contrast, the male-only priesthood is a manifestation of religious belief. Thus the hypothetical law firm would be engaged in discrimination pure and simple, whereas the church’s discrimination would be a consequence of its (religious) belief that the all-male priesthood derived from Christ’s choice of the apostles.
Some argue that there is nothing in Christian sources which supports a bar on homosexuals holding high office in the church. But that is not the point. It is not for the state to decide what a religion entails. Freedom of religion means freedom for religious organisations to decide for themselves what their belief system means. Moreover, the principle of separation of church and state (and for present purposes we can discount the establishment position of the Church of England) precludes the state from deciding otherwise.
That would be the result I would expect the English courts to reach, within the framework of the right to freedom of religion under Art 9 of the European Convention on Human Rights. As mentioned, it is also what the American courts have long held.
It is not, however, a foregone conclusion. The advancement of equality legislation renders it more and more difficult in this country to find exemptions from the general law on the ground of religion, as illustrated by the well-know recent cases about registrars refusing to conduct civil partnership ceremonies, employees wishing to display religious symbols, and fostering parents with strong religious views (though in a number of cases the tabloids predictably took the judgments to mean far more than they did in reality), on which I have written a number of blogs and articles in the past.
The reason I suspect equality legislation will not – and argue that it should not – be extended to the determination of the criteria of bishop or an equivalent post in other religions is that it would amount to the state rewriting religious tenets. In that scenario there would be very little left of religious freedom. It is true that the Supreme Court felt compelled to do something similar in respect of the well-known JFS case, in which it ended up effectively vetoing the Chief Rabbi’s definition of who was Jewish, so it is not beyond the realms of possibility that Canon John’s (presently hypothetical) case might produce a similar result.
But I suspect that the grey areas are likely to be confined to questions about what constitutes a religion, or which employees fall within the status of religious office holders and thus qualify for some sort of exemption from discrimination laws. (If the religion was some fringe cult, or the employee a support staff member not involved in dispensing any of the religious duties, then any religious exemption to discrimination law would be less defensible.) Neither would be in issue in any case brought by a CofE canon, since there is no dispute that a bishop is an ecclesiastical office in a recognised religion.
As ever, it is not a solution that will please everyone. But I very much doubt any solution will ...
Religion, equality and the law has formed the subject of many blogs on this site in the past year or so. Once again the media have found a dispute which requires balancing the competing rights. It concerns Canon Jeffrey John, who has allegedly been passed over for promotion in the Church of England because of his homosexuality. According to the Guardian:
"Dr Jeffrey John … a celibate priest who is in a longstanding civil partnership with another cleric – was prevented from becoming the bishop of Southwark after the archbishops of Canterbury and York stepped in.
Reports on Sunday suggested John had become so exasperated at his treatment that he had hired… an employment and discrimination law specialist… to fight his case under equality law."
Although the competing considerations are many, the nub of the issue can be stated simply. As a starting point, everyone has the right to practice his or her religion. Everyone also has the right to do as they please with their own premises. Employers may choose whomsoever they wish for their staff.
As against that, everyone has the right not to be discriminated against on the basis of race, gender or sexual orientation.
The question is how to balance those rights when they conflict. On one hand, if a religious employer wants all members of her or his staff to be practising members of the religion, one might say that no outsider has the right to object. If the religion in question has particular moral tenets (and all do, almost by definition), then its followers would be expected to conform with them.
On the other hand, no non-religious employer would be allowed to implement an unlawfully discriminatory employment policy on the ground of a secular moral code. For example, a law firm specialising in criminal law could not insist on recruiting only male solicitors because the crusty old partners took the view that criminal law was “not a job for ladies” (as I once heard an elderly Rumpolesque barrister opine, not so many years ago).
So does the Church’s right to run itself according to its own tenets and beliefs trump Dr John’s right not to be discriminated against in his employment?
First we need to deal with a red herring, namely whether or not Dr John is actually an “employee”. It is no answer to try and be slippery about whether church office amounts to “employment”. Recently it has been held in a different context that the relationship between priest and bishop might be akin to employment (JGE v English Province of Our Lady of Charity and another [2011] All ER (D) 50 (Nov)). Either way, there is no doubting that but for the religious context there could be no evading anti-discrimination laws by the institution in question declaring that its office holders are not employees, any more than an employee could avoid income tax by using the word “subcontractor” instead of “employee” if there was no change to the underlying contractual arrangement.
It therefore has to be decided whether there is a valid distinction between Dr John’s case and that of the hypothetical female solicitor. In the US, the distinction would run on the following grounds: there is no link between being a lawyer and being a man. On no objective ground could it be justifiable to prefer men to women for the role of a solicitor. By contrast, the male-only priesthood is a manifestation of religious belief. Thus the hypothetical law firm would be engaged in discrimination pure and simple, whereas the church’s discrimination would be a consequence of its (religious) belief that the all-male priesthood derived from Christ’s choice of the apostles.
Some argue that there is nothing in Christian sources which supports a bar on homosexuals holding high office in the church. But that is not the point. It is not for the state to decide what a religion entails. Freedom of religion means freedom for religious organisations to decide for themselves what their belief system means. Moreover, the principle of separation of church and state (and for present purposes we can discount the establishment position of the Church of England) precludes the state from deciding otherwise.
That would be the result I would expect the English courts to reach, within the framework of the right to freedom of religion under Art 9 of the European Convention on Human Rights. As mentioned, it is also what the American courts have long held.
It is not, however, a foregone conclusion. The advancement of equality legislation renders it more and more difficult in this country to find exemptions from the general law on the ground of religion, as illustrated by the well-know recent cases about registrars refusing to conduct civil partnership ceremonies, employees wishing to display religious symbols, and fostering parents with strong religious views (though in a number of cases the tabloids predictably took the judgments to mean far more than they did in reality), on which I have written a number of blogs and articles in the past.
The reason I suspect equality legislation will not – and argue that it should not – be extended to the determination of the criteria of bishop or an equivalent post in other religions is that it would amount to the state rewriting religious tenets. In that scenario there would be very little left of religious freedom. It is true that the Supreme Court felt compelled to do something similar in respect of the well-known JFS case, in which it ended up effectively vetoing the Chief Rabbi’s definition of who was Jewish, so it is not beyond the realms of possibility that Canon John’s (presently hypothetical) case might produce a similar result.
But I suspect that the grey areas are likely to be confined to questions about what constitutes a religion, or which employees fall within the status of religious office holders and thus qualify for some sort of exemption from discrimination laws. (If the religion was some fringe cult, or the employee a support staff member not involved in dispensing any of the religious duties, then any religious exemption to discrimination law would be less defensible.) Neither would be in issue in any case brought by a CofE canon, since there is no dispute that a bishop is an ecclesiastical office in a recognised religion.
As ever, it is not a solution that will please everyone. But I very much doubt any solution will ...
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