Ed Reyes's news blogs

Eduardo Reyes
Friday, 24 May 2013

Murder of a soldier in south-east London – a horrid event with some further nastiness in its wider repercussions.

Woolwich isn’t too far from my home, and as when Damilola Taylor was murdered (close enough to our old flat to have the home secretary interviewed on TV outside it), in the days and years after the event, people have questions about what they term the state of our ‘communities’.

In this week’s case the narrative is around religion and – taking in the English Defence League’s demonstration – race. Cue plenty of vox pop interviews from people in Woolwich along the lines of ‘what it’s been getting like round here’.

Today and yesterday’s papers are spread across my desk and the floor beside my chair. Acres of speculation and generalisation. What I cannot find anywhere though is speculation as to where mental health sits in this criminal act.

And at one level it strikes me as odd. This crime is a profoundly unnatural act – and for virtually all of us, every fibre of our being would fight against carrying it out even under duress. Not for nothing do warlords in conflicts need to drug their troops to carry out war crimes.

I therefore think it is not enough to rely on the story of, in one case, a member of a ‘Nigerian churchgoing family’ who converted to Islam and was ‘radicalised’.

If the issue is only one of an errant branch of Islamic thinking, I wonder why ‘terror imams’ decide that nasty deeds are matters for people other than them to perform – though for the record, ‘hate-preachers’ don’t sound so very well to me either.

I don’t want to rush to judgement on what lies behind this murder. But I do want to ask the question, because the truth is that mental health disorders are poorly accounted for in our criminal justice system.

And yet 70% of the UK prison population has two or more mental health disorders. And suicide rates are 15 times higher than in the general population – another act which the most basic instincts of almost all fight against.

What prevents the legal system and criminal justice generally from better reflecting the role of mental health disorders in crime?

Doing so would, of course, entail unpicking attitudes to crime and punishment – and convenient narratives like ‘clash of east and west’ – that are currently hardwired into politics, media and law.

If the problem is not Muslims fighting Christians, and if the cause of a terrible crime is not ‘evil’, but dysfunction, then ideas around the purpose of prison and punishment also start to unravel.

That would of course be something much harder to explain to victims of crime, their friends and family. And I’m not sure how taking greater account of mental health disorders in crime would go down with our judiciary, whose sentencing remarks in serious cases, reach for words like ‘evil’.

There are of course mental health reports on some felons. There is some consideration of whether a person is ‘fit to stand trial’. But if we really ‘got’ the role of mental health in crime, would our prisons population look the way it does?

Mental health is a subject that is dealt with badly in many other contexts – in the home, in the workplace, in the health service. Support services for mental health disorders fall firmly within the Cinderella part of any budget.

Given that, it’s perhaps small wonder that even in the wildest speculations available on the ‘cause’ of this terrible murder, as a society we are content avoid mentioning mental health altogether.

Eduardo Reyes is Gazette features editor

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Eduardo Reyes
Friday, 10 May 2013

The Queen’s decision to cut back on long-haul flights has avoided the need to address the rights and wrongs of her presence at the Commonwealth summit in Sri Lanka, where the rule of law is cause for concern.

As has been widely reported, the removal and impeachment of their chief justice is the most recent development.

Shirani Bandaranayake had infuriated the government by declaring unconstitutional a bill that would have centralised political power, in particular at the expense of the, largely Tamil, northern province, and given the minister for economic development wide-ranging powers to infringe upon civil liberties.

But there is a question that neither the advancing years of our monarch nor neat pieces of protocol can get rid of. That is whether Britain’s global common law legacy is less durable than we like to think.

Together with the familiar-looking green benches of parliaments in various former British colonies, lookalike court systems – including gowns, wigs, gavels and weighty legal tomes – symbolise a good and benign side of the post-colonial legacy.

It isn’t just that these institutions saved face for Britain as its thinly staffed empire unraveled – although they certainly did that. A generation of proud lawyers grew up in, valued, and were shaped by these legacy legal systems. Many are members of the Commonwealth Lawyers Association.

But how often can lawyers and the courts take an effective stand against major assaults on the rule of law? The truly depressing answer is roughly once.

That’s not to say brave lawyers in-country, and supportive peers abroad, don’t carry on trying after such a singular assault. But once seems to be the pattern.

In Zimbabwe, chief justice Anthony Gubbay ruled illegal the fast-track land seizures that presaged the country’s descent into economic and democratic crisis – and was replaced by a more pliant jurist.

In Fiji in 2009 the court of appeal ruled the government of Frank Bainimarama, which had seized power in a coup, should be removed – a brave stand, and the judiciary’s last, as all judges were dismissed soon after.

And in Sri Lanka Bandaranayake got to make the stand just once – her distinguished career apparently causing a heavy-handed government no blushes as it ended her tenure.

Brave jurists in each case did not take pointless actions – they drew our attention to brutality and unfairness in ways that were loud and unmistakable. In such cases, it’s then up to the rest of the world to act – or not.

But the depressing truth, as these jurists knew, is that such judgments are bee stings – they can use them just once – and these three country’s courts now have the trappings, but not the standards, of jurisdictions where the rule of law applies.

In far too many countries, the law is a legacy whose institutions and benefits are fading.

Eduardo Reyes is Gazette features editor

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Eduardo Reyes
Friday, 19 April 2013

On 18 September 2014 two sets of nationalists – Scots and UK respectively – will be hoping their supporters vote in large numbers.

Personally I think they’ll both struggle with turnout – given what’s at stake, these campaigns are oddly technocratic. The ‘yes’ campaign, perhaps intending not to scare off undecided voters by playing a fervent nationalist stereotype, stresses how little would change in an independent Scotland.

The ‘no’ campaign, seemingly wary that in a straight fight it might struggle to match the misty eyed-or-mountain romantic appeal of the ‘to be a nation again’ vibe, isn’t really invoking the idea of a country either. Instead, the campaign prefers to rely on negative scare stories – focusing in particular on ‘national security’-type issues.

As nation-based bust-ups go, this is hardly 1776.

Both sides might get closer to a campaign to be proud of with a focus on legal issues.

Thinking back, devolution was still pretty young at the time of the Lockerbie trial – at the time the legal community in Scotland successfully projected their huge pride that the trial had been held abroad under Scottish law and had stood up well to the international scrutiny that entailed.

The ability to project national prestige is surely a defining feature of a nation.

And I notice first minister Alex Salmond spent some time last year promoting Scotland as an arbitration and dispute resolution centre, though it doesn’t seem to feature in his yes campaign. That’s a shame – Scottish banking has a mixed rep now, but not so its advocates and courts.

For either campaign, surely this far into devolution, the huge body of Scotland-only laws to have come out of Holyrood should be some kind of battle ground?

These laws have affected people’s lives in palpable ways – they are real in a way that ethereal fears around the future of Nato membership are not. So has separate law-making been just great, or a chance for second-rate law makers to ‘go rogue’?

At a formal lawyers’ dinner I attended in Edinburgh a few years back, the after-dinner speaker was not the customary comedian/raconteur, but one of the sheriffs, who launched into a 30-minute tirade against the Scottish executive for passing bad laws.

Why be dull, frankly?

The audience, I sense, would have preferred more jokes – but even less electrifying would have been a speech from the average ‘no’ campaign luminary.

My point is, pick up any newspaper north or south of the border, and it’s clear that the law arouses strong passions in among the media and the general population – in a way that Nato membership, say, no longer does.

So why not focus on it?

The answer that both the ‘yes’ and the ‘no’ campaigns fail to provide, is how they can respectively hope to build or maintain a nation based on the low-risk technocratic glue, and fear-stoking that the campaigns currently rely on.

As it appears at the moment, whether the result is ‘yes’ or ‘no’, it doesn’t feel as if there will be any winners.

Eduardo Reyes is Gazette features editor

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Eduardo Reyes
Friday, 12 April 2013

‘Hey-ho the witch is dead.’

This isn’t a piece about Margaret Thatcher’s life or death. But as with a handful of court cases from the past year, I’m struck by the language used – that, and the fact it often passes without comment.

At the start of the book Witchcraft, excellent late-historian Christine Larner recalled a scene from the preparation for a left-leaning demonstration held while Thatcher was PM.

Seeing a placard that read ‘Ditch the Bitch’, a teenage girl pointed out to the grizzled progressives who had made the sign that it sounded a bit sexist. They conceded that on reflection it did, and changed the wording to ‘Ditch the Witch’, whereupon the girl gave up in despair.

Personally I don’t share the instincts of those who would stifle negative comment on the ex-premier’s life and times.

But perhaps our teenage protester should have persevered, as today’s progressives seem to be making pretty much the same signs.

If protest sign-writers have failed to move with the times, then the same can be said of some of our judges. It may well be that former-MP Chris Huhne’s ex-wife Vicky Pryce is right to serve a custodial sentence for perverting the course of justice by taking his speeding points (a lie both maintained for years).

But Mr Justice Sweeney’s sentencing remarks for Pryce struck an odd note: ‘You have demonstrated that there is a controlling, manipulative and devious side to your nature.’ Gosh – was he taming a shrew, or sentencing someone?

Huhne, the judge noted, was the more culpable of the two – but his conduct didn’t attract the same choice words. He wasn’t, apparently, devious, manipulative or controlling.

Would a female judge handle sentencing better?

I accept I’m drawing on a small number of samples here, but I suspect she would. Here’s Mrs Justice Thirlwall sentencing Mairead Philpott – who, after all, went along with a repugnant plan hatched by her husband, that resulted in the death of her children.

‘I accept that you feel their loss profoundly and that your grief is real,’ Thirlwall noted, going on to cover the issues of coercion and dishonesty thus: ‘You had stood up to [Michael Philpott] in the past… It is inescapable therefore that when something was important enough to you, you were capable of exercising a choice which was not his choice.’

Stronger language was reserved for the more culpable defendant, Michael Philpott himself.

By comparison Sweeney’s remarks manage to leave something uncomfortable in the air, and on a far less serious case.

It isn’t just on gender that members of the judiciary can seem to misfire in remarks made in court.

Here is then-lord chief justice Lord Judge dismissing appeals against lengthy sentences for those involved in, or inciting involvement with, the 2011 riots. Judge found the use of social media in assisting rioters to be a ‘sinister’ aspect of the riots, which were typified as a ‘ghastliness’ creating ‘fear to even the most stout-hearted of citizens’.

All of which make his comments the perfect remarks for, say, a spot of bother that had to be put down in, what, 1782?

Why does all this matter?

It matters for a few reasons – none of them trivial.

Judges have some important audiences in these cases. In addition to those being sentenced, the remarks should have an impact on their family and friends, and on those who we want to avoid the same errors.

How many errant youth now fear doing something ‘ghastly’, I wonder? And as for stout citizenry – isn’t that what Jamie Oliver is worried about our children becoming, or something?

I notice that Thirwall shares a sure touch with Lady Hallett – the latter highly praised for her sensitive and clear handling of the ‘7/7’ inquests. So might it not be the case that a more diverse judiciary would more consistently produce their levels of skill in delivering appropriate messages?

When war journalist Martha Gelhorn covered the Nuremberg trials, she noted the importance of judicial tone and language – it stood, she said, for all the decency and fairness that been missed in a world-gone-mad.

That’s what we want our judges to achieve, even in more mundane cases. The judges who can’t meet that standard miss an important opportunity here.

Worse, whether it is for want of skill or self-knowledge, some go so far as to harm the judiciary’s reputation. When that happens, we all lose something.

Eduardo Reyes is Gazette features editor

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Eduardo Reyes
Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Children’s heart surgery is something I have a close interest in as a parent – till she had an operation at the hands of a world-leading surgeon, my daughter had a rather large hole where four distinct chambers should be. And I’ve known more than my fair share of children with congenital heart problems who didn’t make it.

To put it mildly, anyone touched by child cardiology comes out the other side of the experience rather suddenly more grown up.

But my interest in the temporary cessation of children’s heart surgery at Leeds General Infirmary is piqued more by the fairly shrill response to medical director of the NHS Bruce Keogh’s intervention, notably from the local Liberal Democrat MP Greg Mulholland.

Mulholland’s reaction highlights all the problems that bodies – public and private – have in trying to ingrain a healthy culture in organisations in ways that lower their risks, whether it is in banking or the NHS, and might also lower our own risks.

Put simply, in-house counsel and compliance officers, charged with managing risks in organisations should despair about the way this has played out.

There were two ‘whistleblower’-style reports here, and a set of data that at the time looked like cause for concern.

We surely aren’t so far from events in Mid Staffs, or even Bristol Royal Infirmary (where things really were amiss with children’s heart surgery), that we think Keogh shouldn’t have taken a precautionary approach here.

To act on concerns (a temporary measure), surely sends the right message about openness and reporting to anyone in an organisation who has worries. Because as it stands, whistleblowers in cases where such worries were proved justified tend to have paid a high price – just look at the careers of those who spoke out in Bristol.

In our banks, many people troubled by malpractice were made to feel they would endanger the institution and its profits unnecessarily if they rocked the boat.

Similarly, Mulholland has conflated the issue of the temporary closure quite wrongly with fears of cuts to the NHS, and accused Keogh of threatening jobs. As well as calling for his resignation.

If you’re wondering how all this fits with the culture of openness that the Liberal Democrats promoted in proposals such as a duty of medical candour (look at the legal case for it), the answer is that it doesn’t.

It is the sort of reaction that in another field emasculates the Sarbanes-Oxley Act’s power to reassure through a working structure of ‘whistleblowing’ opportunities.

To be fair to the MP, I don’t think he and others lining up to give Keogh a good kicking have thought this through. But until they do, our children, our banks, our businesses and our workplaces are less safe for it.

Eduardo Reyes is Gazette features editor

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Eduardo Reyes
Friday, 15 February 2013

Where are the lawyers of Eastleigh? Or more specifically, as Chris Huhne’s former constituency, site of a coming by-election, has 50 law firms within 4.5 miles of the town centre, why is no candidate in this election paying much attention to legal issues or the law?

Even at a cynical electioneering level, 50 local employers looks like an industry to me – yet I can’t find a single candidate’s mention of a serious legal issue.

No appeal to this lawyerly mini-constituency’s interests. Nothing on civil justice or legal aid. Zip on human rights - or indeed any rights. Nada on local government powers. Rien on employment law. A search for intellectual property issues mentioned in this election would be long and fruitless one.

Planning law gets a bit of a look-in, as the green belt is a contentious issue locally.

I don’t expect legal issues to dominate an election – but their absence contributes to the sense that this an election that’s dead from the neck up.

The Labour candidate brings a bit of authorial glamour to the election, and writing in the Guardian, has mentioned poverty. But that’s about it for any interesting content in a by-election that falls bang in the middle of some very turbulent times.

The Lib Dem candidate is local, safe and concerned about the green belt. The Conservative is local – and, someone has decided, somewhat unsafe as she is largely guarded from the media (a complicated exercise, as various clips on YouTube show). She would like the abortion limit lowered, and is worried about the green belt – and presumably UKIP.

UKIP are, in addition to the obvious issue of EU membership, concerned about the green belt. Immigration will probably get a look-in – but mostly in a pretty binary way, and not in terms of the principles of immigration law.

I’m obviously simplifying things here – but not by much. Even more than at the peak of my own political activism in 1997, this sort of politics has become about incredibly simple and safe messaging.

It isn’t that I expect every candidate to sound like FE Smith or Helena Kennedy.

But surely the times we live in call for candidates with a bit of a grip on issues around citizens’ rights, businesses’ rights, the terms on which we settle disputes as families, and with or between organisations – how we make agreements, protect inventions, and guarantee a free press, or our personal privacy?

But here’s a chance for the lawyers.

In the gaps between the free-ranging journalists the minders are trying to avoid, and as they travel between stage-managed events, the candidates will be walking the streets and trying to meet people.

So wherever you sit on some of the issues I’ve mentioned, if you work at one of those 50 firms, and a candidate comes towards you, hand outstretched, wanting a brief chat, why not tell them the law matters?

Eduardo Reyes is Gazette features editor

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Eduardo Reyes
Wednesday, 6 February 2013

Banks and the health service were both in the news this morning – a £400m fine for state-owned RBS for Libor-fixing; and a damning report on failings at Mid Staffordshire NHS Trust where, in addition to multiple failings, patient deaths were hundreds above what one would expect for the hospital’s profile.

In both cases, questions on who did what are being asked, along the lines of ‘where were the regulators?’ and ‘what should senior management have done?’.

But I have another question that’s being asked by fewer people – where do professional ethics sit in all this?

In Mid Staffs there were a host of professionals involved, including doctors, nurses and lawyers. Each profession is supposedly defined not by technical skill alone, but also by codes of ethical behaviour – some moral, some regulatory – which are supposed be part of each professional’s DNA.

The pressures of financial and other targets are real and present. The pressure that a lone voice can feel for speaking out when others would rather they keep quiet is equally real.

In one incident, sad to say the trust’s lawyer comes out badly – criticised for wanting ‘an adverse report about care leading to a death’ to ‘be suppressed, in part because of a fear of adverse publicity’.

The A&E consultant comes out well, refusing to change his report in the way suggested by the trust’s lawyer. Other doctors and nurses, we now know, fell far short of this consultant’s conduct.

And so to professional ethics in the financial services world. The code here is laid out for professionals in regulatory terms, though not moral ones. And as we saw in Mid Staffs, established professional ethics are no guarantor of ideal conduct.

But it still might have given someone discomforted by their involvement in Libor-rigging a sense-check, a moral benchmark – even a measure of protection – if the frame in which they operated were more than a set of rules.

A striking feature of the, often anonymous, interviews being broadcast this week by people who were discomforted by, variously, conduct at Mid Staffs and at banks involved in Libor-rigging, is that, respectively, few or none, got to the point where their sense of professional ethics made them feel bold enough to either blow the whistle or even just walk out.

It isn’t much talked about, but these are roles in society that are seeking to ‘professionalise’, and a working professional code is at the centre of that.

The British venture capital association’s members sign up to a code. Better established is the code by which members of the Chartered Institute of Insurers commit to conduct themselves.

The Chartered Institute of Managers has a code of practice that stresses, among other things, the need to ‘uphold lawful policies, practices and procedures’. There is some nascent talk of the need for bankers to have their version of doctors’ hippocratic oath. There is a Chartered Banker Institute with a code of conduct – but as well as being the only remaining banking institute in the UK, it is a Scottish body whose voluntary membership leans towards people in senior roles.

I suspect that with some of these professional and quasi-professional codes that the main intention is increase the external respect for members’ ethics and standards.

That may be important.

But external respect for professional standing isn’t the aspect that allegedly absent or dozy regulators can rely on – in the law, banking, management or healthcare. For any professional code to work, it also needs to give the professional concerned self-respect.

That is what too many of the professionals involved in these otherwise very different worlds – healthcare and banking – seemed to lack. At some cost to their peace of mind – happiness even – they stayed in post, unlistened to, and put up with being bullied and disrespected.

Regulators fell short in Mid Staffs, and in any number of financial services scenarios – that is not in doubt, and is being picked over at length in many, many quarters. But surely all of us, regulators included, were entitled to rely to a degree on professional ethics and were let down.

Those professional codes in all fields – old, new and proposed – will need to perform better in the future. And to do that, they need to be as much about imbuing self-respect as they currently are about commanding external professional respect.

Otherwise I fear we’ll be here again – and sooner than you’d think.

Eduardo Reyes is Gazette features editor

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Eduardo Reyes
Friday, 18 January 2013

Competition law seems especially vulnerable to ‘the law of unintended consequences’ in the current environment. This can be seen in operation, some argue, by the 8 January referral by the Office of Fair Trading (OFT) of a proposed merger between two NHS trusts (located in Poole, Bournemouth and Christchurch) to the Competition Commission for an in-depth investigation.

That is not just my view as a lay observer of competition law issues. It is a point that experienced competition lawyers have also been privately in touch to make. ‘The biggest waste of money in advisory fees,’ as one put it, adding that the referral is also likely to take up significant management time over several months. And the end of the process, of course, the merger may not be allowed.

That sort of uncertainty and time period could be damaging to a business. But it is the sort of reference, no doubt right in law, where one struggles to see the wider public policy goal that might be reached.

According to Clive Maxwell, OFT chief executive and decision-maker in this case, the justification is this: ‘Our review found that these two foundation trusts compete with each other in a number of specialties, both to attract patients and funding from commissioners.

‘We decided on the basis of the evidence available, including advice from [trusts regulator] Monitor, that we could not rely on the potential benefits from this merger outweighing the expected impact on patients and commissioners of a loss of competition.’

No doubt. But presumably the trusts are not merging in a calculated effort to corner the market, raise prices and generally do over patients (or ‘consumers’ as they might be called here). Trust mergers we have seen elsewhere have been driven by the declared need to save money. Austerity, not imperfect operation of the market, is removing the sorts of choice that really matter to patients – whether or not services they require have been cut or reduced.

Yet the dominant consideration is the assumption that established competition law principles, devised with commercial markets in mind, are in all contexts so closely aligned with the public interest as to be pretty much beyond question.

Applied to the markets that surround the NHS that feels, if it was ever appropriate, like a rule for the boom-times – an okay way of deciding how best to spend ample funds.

In the current economic climate, many of the assumptions as to what delivered the right outcome have been set to one side. The Bank of England’s monetary policy committee is one example – varying from its narrow remit on containing inflation, in order to support a strategy aimed at supporting growth. Most would agree that overall it has been right to do so.

So, surely the next time government or the EU has cause to consider the way competition law principles perform in this sort of scenario, it is worth asking if the consequence of maintaining the status quo is the outcome that was intended.

Eduardo Reyes is Gazette features editor

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Eduardo Reyes
Thursday, 10 January 2013

The re-entry of the global accounting firms into the legal sector is one of the more eye-catching predictions in professor Richard Susskind’s latest book, published today, ‘Tomorrow’s Lawyers: an introduction to your future’.

I recall the impact the accountants had the last time they took aim at the legal sector. It was widely assumed that being both bigger than commercial law firms, and closer to the client through ongoing audit and consulting activities, the accountants were a huge threat. The ‘arrival’ of US law firms in London got similar attention – not least because the higher rates they were willing to pay newly qualified lawyers set the market.

Andersen-linked Garretts was the most successful, and some of the lawyers who were at the helm of Garretts are numbered among the lawyers I most respect. The firm had an international proposition which at the time was different – as ex-Garretts Julia Chain reflected in the Gazette last year.

Of course Garretts unraveled for reasons well beyond its lawyers’ control.

But are the accountants about to have another go? Does it matter if they do? (PwC Legal LLP’s 80-plus solicitors will of course be interested to hear they are planning to re-enter the legal sector.)

A lot has changed since the last time the accountants had a go in any significant way. UK law firms who were almost wrong-footed last time, are now among the most successful of the new breed of international law firms. And of course the fallout from Andersen’s collapse has limited what each accountant can do for each client.

Offering ‘legal services’ these days makes most sense in those lines of advice where accountants market what their business clients would term ‘products’ – tax or investment vehicles – and also human resources support and, to a degree, the sort of investigations work that follows charges of bribery and corruption.

I think we will see a bit more of that. PwC Legal’s head of global immigration, lawyer Julia Onslow-Cole, was on Newsnight this week, and I think you’ll see her on it again.

But a few things argue against widespread displacement of existing legal services by the ‘re-entry’ of accountants to the legal market.

First, clients’ purchasing patterns are changing. Within legal services sophisticated corporate clients are on a steady move away from monolithic ‘one-stop shops’. Prompted by a hard economy, they have become much better at ‘unbundling’ their legal advice needs – even using different firms for different parts of transactions in preference to one-stop shops, demanding the firms they instruct become adept at collaborating. For the same reason they are using the bar direct, and looking, off a low starting base, at using legal process outsourcers more.

Secondly, the world of ‘products’ mentioned above is under some pressure. As the UK furor over corporate tax arrangements of household-name companies showed at the end of 2012, the creation of the vehicles that enable tax avoidance are under close political scrutiny.

Anyone professional services firm poised to make a major investment here must be hesitating. Banks are currently facing the expensive and commercially damaging fallout from the potential mis-sale of interest rate swaps products. That rather underlines the message on products.

Thirdly, large legal teams are a huge overhead. Many commercial law firms saw their income fall by a quarter in the aftermath of Lehman’s collapse. I suspect the accountants will ‘do the math’ and work out that the unenviable task of managing the fallout of such fluctuations is a distraction and expense they’d rather be well clear of.

Accountants are also less confident-looking entities than when last they had a go. The dependence on large government consulting contracts looks over-heavy. In the UK, this potentially vulnerable work source masks in some cases a decline in other work.

Are the accountants coming? In some areas, they probably are. But the window they had to revolutionise the legal sector has surely passed.

Eduardo Reyes is Gazette features editor



Eduardo Reyes
Thursday, 20 December 2012

A rising tide of prosperity that floats all boats is no longer the glue that can hold our society together. Whatever the consensus was in the boom years around the greater good that could be derived from economic growth driven by personal atavism, to make the same argument at the close of 2012 stretches credulity.

Those are hardly controversial statements.

What can replace that narrative is less clear, though from nationalism and religion to, in places, a resurgent socialism, there is no shortage of competition.

But could law, with its focus on fair and just outcomes, ever be an effective counterweight to the hard power represented by the apparently more Darwinian forces of greed, power and money?

Helena Kennedy QC and Liberty director Shami Chakrabarti are among those trying to answer that broad question at an ‘ideas festival’ in March (What connects us most/least). Also taking part will be scientists, environmentalists and people from the world of culture, media and politics.

Both Kennedy and Chakrabarti agree there is at least an ‘opportunity’ for law, and specifically human rights, to bid for that space with some confidence.

As Kennedy argues: ‘Neo-liberal economics spoke to the individual and the pursuit of one’s own needs, often at the expense of the needs of the community at large.’

She adds: ‘And I think that what was difficult in that context of that was language which was expressed in terms of winners and losers, that people who were not successful were losers – that there must be something about it that was a deficit in them that meant that they were doing so badly in good economic times.’

That, Chakrabarti points out, is a perception events have inevitably changed: ‘The banking crisis ought to open people up to a new way of thinking about their rights and freedoms and the law. What we’ve lived through shows that an unfettered market will eat itself, and will take the economy and society down with it.’

More than ever, she argues, people would accept that the market shouldn’t be governed by the ‘law of the jungle’, with a strong criminal law to tackle ‘robbers’ and an equally strong civil law to ‘keep people to the bargains they strike’. ‘That is almost a regulatory argument for human rights,’ she notes.

So far so good for fans of human rights, justice, fairness, the rule of law – all the ‘guys in the band’. But as already noted, this is a competitive space, and the disappearance of the halo above the ‘greed-is-good’ mantra has not also vanished the significant obstacles that Kennedy and Chakrabarti see in their way. ‘Trying to get us beyond that is difficult,’ Kennedy concedes.

Kennedy identifies active risks to human rights in the current environment. Earlier this week she and Philippe Sands QC, who had been committee members of a commission to consider a British bill of rights, dissented from its final report. She highlighted the danger of the report being misused by the prime minister as the basis to ‘decouple’ from both the convention and the European court of human rights.

Human right has, Kennedy concedes, ‘been seen as over-protective of certain categories of people’.

The QC and the Liberty director see the danger, then. But their sense that there is a very confident case to be made in promoting a stronger commitment to human rights persists.

That confidence seems to spring from a conviction that current opposition to human rights is based on misunderstandings, in an environment where the best case for the human rights lobby has yet to be made.

‘What is not understood widely enough is that many human rights include principles that are balanced against one another,’ Kennedy points out, ‘such as freedom of speech and privacy.’

And education on human rights is, Chakrabarti notes, currently poor. ‘In annual research we do we find very strong support for human rights principles among the public. We then ask them if they received any public education on human rights – 9-10% say they did, but for them that’s actually a false memory.’

Some strong supporters of human rights law imply that such is the well of opposition to human rights as wrongly conflated with an unpopular European Union, that a rebrand of those same values might provide a narrative that provides society’s glue more than the Human Rights Act, the human rights convention and the universal declaration.

Lord Lester set out such a position in his own paper added to the bill of rights report.

As an argument it is a non-starter, Chakrabarti concludes: ‘A British “botox” bill of rights won’t make the challenges we have in making the case for certain rights more palatable.’ It risks, she notes, being used as cover for removing key rights – something far more dangerous than a rebrand. ‘Who would imagine a bill of rights being introduced anywhere else in the world that is about diluting rights and not enhancing them?’

Kennedy, Chakrabarti and like-minded lawyers are not alone in making the case for law, human rights and fairness providing a better overarching narrative than ‘Darwinian’ neo-liberal economics. Nobel economist Joseph Stiglitz is among those giving the rule of law a starring role in what, he hopes, a new world order.

But the window available to make that case feels time-limited – there is a sense of urgency in these debates which is surely not misplaced.

Eduardo Reyes is Gazette features editor