Taking Liberties

Prerogative Powers

Some of the more confusing (and arguably confused) aspects of the British Constitution are those relating to executive (or royal) prerogative.  Those with an interest in such matters may be pleased to know that the Ministry of Justice has just published a Final Report on these powers.  It will appear in the Library's collections, of course, but it's also online as a .pdf.

The report is full of fascinating detail, not least that the most comprehensive legal textbook on the matter is now 'nearly 200 years old' (Joseph Chitty, A Treatise on the Law of the Prerogatives of the Crown (1820)).   As well as the right to declare war, and so on, future and current monarchs' prerogatives include the sole right to the "printing or licensing the printing of the Authorised Version of the Bible, the Book of Common Prayer, state papers and Acts of Parliament" and also various "powers connected with prepaid postage stamps".

The MoJ is also seeking comments by 8 Jan 2010: RoyalPrerogativeReview@justice.gsi.gov.uk

Breaking the Rules

My boss inherited many of the papers of the former superintendents of the Round Reading Room; these include a list of items displayed at an exhibition celebrating the bicentenary of the British Museum, which we happened to look at today. 

Following an item on the first 'keeper' of the Reading Room, Dr. Templeman (which revealed how he found that the 'six hours' daily attendance enjoined upon him by the Trustees affected his health adversely and he resigned in December 1760, to become the secretary of the newly founded Society of Arts), I was intrigued by a note (Add. MS. 45868) on William Blackstone, who was'engaged on his edition of the Great Charter and the Charter of the Forest'.  This monumental work was one of the first items on display in Taking Liberties (in the Rule of Law section).

The manuscript reveals that part of the materials which Blackstone 'wished to consult was adorned with Pictures or Illuminations'.  The regulations of the day meant that the great legal scholar would have to wait until the following day.  However, he was 'obliged to set out for Oxford the next day'.  Dr. Templeman, clearly not too adversely affected at that time, 'permitted him the use of the Manuscript without waiting for the authority of the Committee'.  Templeman, it seems, in his 'zeal in the cause of Readers', often transgressed this statute, leading to 'complaints from the several officers and servants'.

Rules, it seems, are sometimes made to be broken.

Doo-wop?

The new Supreme Courtwill open in October, taking over what was once Middlesex Guildhall, overlooking Parliament (but in a different postcode).  The move is symbolic of an attempt to separate the judiciary from the legislature, since the Law Lords used to meet in the Appellate Committee of the House of Lords and the devolution jurisdiction of the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council.  And those names might also suggest that the move is an attempt to simplify things and make access to the ultimate British court more straightforward.

This, I think is the idea, and the move is largely symbolic, rather than being about new powers.  Such symbolism is, of course, highly important, and as the Court gets a sense of itself and its authority (or perhaps even its lack of) its role and place in the constitution may change.  This said, apart from a documentary by Joshua Rozenberg on Radio 4 yesterday, the airwaves, printing presses and internet have hardly been ablaze with discussion.  A long review of two recent books in the current Times Literary Supplement is a notable exception - although it's by Rozenberg again, which may prove my point about the current lack of debate about the place where 'cases of the greatest public
or constitutional importance' will be heard.

There should also be an interesting exhibition for those who do want to visit.

Memory of the World

Recent additions to the UN's Memory of the World Register have been announced today, including Magna Carta (1215), which was the centrepiece of the 'Rule of Law' section of the exhibition.  Other items on the list include Anne Frank's Diaries, the League of Nations' Archives, the Archives of Terror, and Woodblocks of Nguyen Dynasty - a list of hope and horror, and all records that must be preserved for posterity.  The full list is online.

1215 and all that

We may be living in the last days of the South Bank Show, but Melvyn Bragg is still going strong on Radio 4.  Today's 'In Our Time' was all about Magna Carta - that medieval ragbag of baronial strong-arming.  The show tries to answer what the following words meant and mean:

“No free man shall be seized or imprisoned, or stripped of his rights or possessions, or outlawed or exiled, or deprived of his standing in any other way, nor will we proceed with force against him, or send others to do so, except by the lawful judgement of his equals or by the law of the land”.

As regular readers will know, this is clause 39 of the Great Charter.  Nicholas Vincent, one of the participants, also kindly gave a great talk at the BL on this very subject.

From Fishladders to the Bosporus

I cashed in some airmiles and escaped to Istanbul at the weekend in search of sahlep (thanks Marie for the tip off) and the world's belly button, and succeeded in finding both.  But before this, as the plane headed east, following the Thames below, I skipped past Stephen Fry's podgram and the Monocle Weekly, and listened to a podcast of Professor Vincent's talk on Magna Carta (iTunes had kindly synched it for me).  A lot of it was about debunking the myth of Magna Carta (it was never intended as great constitutional document), and I was interested to hear more about the Lincoln copy's trip to the US in the 1940s, something that I hope to talk about at conference in a couple of weeks.

Part of the debunking was a great list of all the peculiar clauses of the charter, including the outlawing of fish ladders on the Thames.  Prof. Vincent explained that this was about fears that the Thames would cease to be navigable and threaten London's status as a port if the barons upstream interrupted the flow of water, an interesting clash of economic, political and even ecological interests.  Having just taken off from Heathrow and following the Thames, the current debate about airport expansion came to mind.  I wasn't convinced by one of the columnists in the paper given out on the plane that global warming was simply interest group hot air.

I was also interested to read in the paper (which later turned into a useful fly swat) that on Monday (23rd), an attempt to repeal the offences of seditious libel and criminal defamation would be made, and that a Bill of Rights is back on the agenda in a green paper (and even a Twitter feed).  Commentators were keen to emphasise the need to make the distinction between contingent rights we may hold as citizens, and our human rights, which are not dependent on our 'duties' or 'responsibilities', but are part of human dignity.  Stephen Fry crops up here, too.

Snap

The Counter Terrorism Act (2008) passed into law this week, and to celebrate, 300 photographers gathered outside of Scotland Yard. In the National Union of Journalists' view, clause 76 of this act may make it a criminal offence to take a photograph of a police officer, if it is 'likely to be useful to a person committing or preparing an act of terrorism'. Taken along with section 44 of the Terrorism Act, the NUJ is worried that there are increasing threats to their right to report on the police. Dame Stella Rimington might agree (the Home Office doesn't).

Changing tack slightly, photography is one of those issues that divides people, not least because of the ease of digital dissemination I alluded to yesterday. It's one thing taking a snap of someone, or being snapped by them, and slowly turning yellow in an old photoalbum; it's another being plastered over somewhere like Flickr, and perhaps even being used in someone's marketing campaign. I took a photo of Regent's Canal on the weekend, and a couple were in the shot. The woman demanded to know where the picture was going (deleted, as it happens - and no, I'm not posting it here).

On the other hand, a fortnight ago, I walked by Primrose Hill in the snow with my camera, and happened to bump (almost literally) into the pop singer Lily Allen. I think she thought I was a paparazzo, and practically demanded that I take a photograph (I think she'd got to the top of the charts and was keen to milk the moment).

Some of this isn't as new as all that. Early photography was given an economic fillip by prints of the stars. And, centre stage in the exhibition section dealing with the Chartists, is a wonderful enlargement of the Great Chartist Demonstration of 1848. I think you can even spot a police officer.

Sir John Mortimer: I rest my case

Sir John Mortimer, the barrister, writer and playwright, has died, at the age of 85.

It doesn’t seem that long since I saw him enjoying a drink in a north London pub after he had been performing ‘Mortimer’s Miscellany’. As well as creating the immortal ‘Rumpole of the Bailey’, Sir John was a resolute campaigner for liberty, particularly against literary censorship.

Initially, however, his legal practice flourished on the back of his talent for winning divorce cases. But following divorce law reform, he reinvented himself as a criminal barrister, with a great ability to undermine ‘expert’ witnesses, particularly when it came to the macabre evidence of blood stains.

This could not have prepared him for the furore of the Oz trial in 1971. He defended the three editors of the satirical hippy magazine who had allowed a lewdly adulterated comic strip of Rupert Bear to appear in their pages. Recordings of the trial and campaign material are on display in the exhibition.

In this, and other cases, such as his defence of the Sex Pistols, he was a great defender of free speech, and of the idea that lawyers should act as guardians of freedom.

While being interviewed about ‘Mortimer’s Miscellany’, Sir John worried that our civil liberties had been ‘eroded to about 20 years before Magna Carta’. Again, something else that’s on display...

Charter flight

The exhibition contains at least four charters – Magna Carta; the Charter of the Forests; the People’s Charter; and Charter 88. There are probably more that I’ve missed out.

A statement of agreed principles is a common, and often powerful, way of making political change (and, of course, for resisting it). A curatorial colleague passed me this link from the New York Review of Books: along with Charter 77 (Czechoslovakia) and the local Charter 88, there is now ‘Charter 08’.

Signed by hundreds of Chinese intellectuals, Charter 08 calls for the introduction of democracy and human rights in China. It was published on 10 December, the 60th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

Deoxyribonucleic acid: the only language these people understand

England and Wales (but not Scotland) can boast one of the largest DNA databases in the world, in terms of percentage of the population.

This may be, like consumer credit or binge drinking, one of those areas in which we lead Europe or the world and are more a source of national shame than pride. But, after last week’s ruling by the European Court of Human Rights, it may be a record that we have to give up, as the retention of fingerprints and DNA data of unconvicted suspects (in other words, innocent people) is unlawful. Except for suspects for certain serious crimes, such as rape, when data may be kept for three years and for another two years with judicial consent, such retention conflicts with the right to respect for private life.

I can certainly see how it would be handy to have a vast database of potential wrong 'uns, and in my grumpy mood today, I could even go as far as seeing how sticking everyone’s DNA on a central register might be useful for Morse, Lewis and co. Thankfully, given what looks to be the lack of evidence for how useful any of this amassed data actually is, saner and vastly more expert heads have prevailed in Strasbourg.

I’m reminded of Douglas Adam’s riff on the video recorder, which is a marvellous invention not because it records programmes, but because it watches them for you, saving you the trouble. It’s good to know that the ECHR is there as a backstop, providing a check on some of our more Orwellian innovations, being a bit of a watchdog for us.