The inevitable insurgence of AI will transform the legal profession – this begs for accountability.

LAMBROS SPYROU

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is already influencing the legal profession and has the potential to greatly influence the profession in the future. AI is currently benefiting the legal profession by performing mechanical tasks and saving substantial costs and time to both large and small law firms. This impact on the profession will be beneficial, contingent upon laws and regulations being introduced that will impose restrictions on AI and its application within the profession, so that it does not come to replace humans. This blog post will argue that the only way AI will be detrimental to the profession is if AI technologies eventually come to replace human lawyers and judges. However, this is a distant future prospect. AI technologies, in their present form, are beneficial to the legal profession when they assist human lawyers in doing their every-day tasks more efficiently, accurately and providing more cost-effective legal advice to their clients. But, it is of paramount importance that AI is regulated by the Government to ensure this vast use of AI in the law is trustworthy and transparent.

AI in the legal profession

The influence of AI in the legal profession is already evident from the fact that numerous large law firms across the UK are using AI technologies. For instance, the law firm Addleshaw Goddard (AG) is using AI to provide better results to their clients. AG is using Kira, which ‘is a powerful AI system’, used to quickly interrogate and manage large volumes of information saving significant amounts of time. Furthermore, one of the largest and most historic law firms in the UK, Freshfields, has also invested in the AI program, Kira, and is consistently using this program for their every-day operations, such as reviewing contracts. Kira can identify ‘all agreements with potentially problematic provisions.’ Additionally, a relatively smaller law firm, Muckle, has been using AI technologies since 2016 to accelerate ‘large, complex disputes’. Additionally, a recent study from the Coldwell Banker Richard Ellis (CBRE) Group, found that 89% of law firms are already utilising AI or have imminent plans to do so. Consequently, it is illustrated that law firms, whether large or small, are willing to invest in AI technologies to facilitate mechanical, every-day tasks.

AI is benefiting the legal profession by saving significant costs to its clients while also providing more accurate, efficient and timely results. These extraordinary results enable lawyers to tackle more complex and creative tasks that can make an impact on the law and society. The global consulting firm, McKinsey, has asserted that lawyers are already utilising AI technologies to evaluate the thousands of documents gathered during discovery, and to determine the most important ones for further review by legal staff. The international law firm, Cleary Gottlieb used AI during discovery to determine which of the thousands of documents collected were documents that should not be investigated by prosecutors due to lawyer-client privilege. As one of the lawyers of the firm pointed out, “from the 500,000 we started with, we quickly made our way to identifying 15,000 documents that were privileged.” Notably, the cost to perform this review by AI was $50,000, instead of the potentially millions in billable hours the job usually would have cost.

Additionally, an AI lawyer, CaseCruncher Alpha, won a challenge against 100 lawyers from London’s magic circle firms. The challenge was to predict whether the Financial Ombudsman would authorize a claim by analysing hundreds of PPI (payment protection insurance) mis-selling cases. Overall, the 2 contestants presented 775 predictions, with the AI lawyer, CaseCruncher having an accuracy rate of 86.6 percent, whereas the lawyers merely obtained a 66.3 percent correct. Likewise, in a new study expressed on Hacker Noon, twenty of the USA’s top corporate lawyers competed against an AI program, called the LawGeex AI, to figure out who could identify the defects in five non-disclosure agreements (NDA) faster and with more accuracy. The challenge was set up by an impartial team of specialists, including law professors from Duke, UCLA, and a senior corporate lawyer. The AI program attained “an average 94 percent accuracy rate, higher than the lawyers, who achieved an average rate of 85 percent.” Incredibly, “it took the lawyers an average of 92 minutes to complete the NDA issue spotting, compared to 26 seconds for the LawGeex AI.”

These examples show that AI can genuinely assist lawyers in analysing these documents, and to reduce the wordiness of these documents, which can enable one party to identify the main issues. Moreover, AI can reduce the costs of legal advice and free up time for lawyers to concentrate on more complex tasks. An AI system that reviews contracts allows lawyers to work on ‘higher-level tasks’ and it makes ‘legal advice accessible and affordable for all.’ There are, therefore, multiple benefits of using AI within the legal profession, including efficiency, accuracy, costs and the ability to free up time for the lawyers to undertake more challenging tasks.

80% of consumers think that it is more significant to obtain more cost-effective legal advice than for the job of solicitors to be retained. This, then, illustrates that clients will want to use AI because it would be more affordable and that people are, indeed, willing to use AI and do not consider it as a threat, which suggests that AI is bound for mass market acquisition. The fact that clients will be willing to receive legal advice from a law firm that encourages use of AI is shown by a statistic from PwC that 72% of business executives think ‘AI will be the business advantage of the future.’ Another incentive for clients to use AI in the UK is evident from the fact that AI is expected to add £232 billion to the UK economy by 2030 and $15.7 trillion to the global economy. Moreover, in a keynote speech by AG, it was asserted that clients are now expecting better quality services for a lesser price.[i] Hence, AI systems might be adopted by all law firms in the future, rendering the influence of AI systems on the legal profession, gigantic. This is comprehensively summarised in the statement of Girardi, who asserted that “it may even be considered legal malpractice not to use AI one day.”

Could AI replace Lawyers and legal professionals?

Identifying the great benefits that AI can provide the legal profession, it seems that the major detriment of AI is if it comes to replace human jobs. However, it appears improbable that AI will replace human lawyers in the near future, due to the limitations of its use to only mechanical tasks and the lack of interpersonal skills that it possesses.

As Thomas asserts, “AI is not going to replace managers, but managers who use AI will replace the managers who do not.” As Richardson and Girardi both agree, no matter how sophisticated AI becomes, it will never be a substitute for the judgment and decision-making only humans can provide. Indeed, human lawyers and judges can provide justice, enforce the rule of law and impact society in a way that AI may never be able to do. As Australian law firm Best Hooper implies, a client will not be able to create a relationship of trust and loyalty with their solicitor, if that solicitor is an AI robot. Correspondingly, it is evident that AI replacing human lawyers would be detrimental to the profession in terms of business efficacy. The firm continued to rightly acknowledge that answers to legal questions are not always black and white and therefore, AI technologies will not be able to replace human lawyers in the near future, since the current AI does not possess such skill. This is evident from the AI, CaseCruncher, which recognised that AI technologies are only better at human lawyers in predicting conclusions when the question is outlined “precisely”. Currently, AI can merely analyse information they collect, lacking interpersonal and other skills required by a lawyer.

The Observer asserted that AI is currently undertaking the tasks previously completed by entry-level lawyers and thus also issuing a warning as to the possibility of certain jobs within the legal profession being replaced.  Dodd supports the position that AI could supersede some of the mechanical tasks completed by junior lawyers and paralegals. Correspondingly, Morison and Harkens observed that paralegals were ranked in the first quartile of those to be replaced by a study looking at the jobs that are likely to become automated in the future, because AI can scan documents to identify essential words and phrases.[ii] In this study, lawyers due to their interpersonal, advisory roles were placed in the fourth quartile of least likely to be superseded.

However, AI cannot currently talk to a client or present arguments in front of a judge in a trial. Similarly, “AI’s present capability meets a sizable need in the legal space by automating a number of high-volume, recurring tasks that otherwise take lawyers’ focus away from more meaningful work.” Consequently, it appears that entry-level lawyers will be allowed to focus on more significant tasks rather than performing recurring work, which is beneficial to both the profession and society. However, if AI manages to be able to replace human lawyers in the distant future, this could also benefit society in that it would provide cheaper legal advice to citizens. Nevertheless, since the study cited by Morison and Harkens indicated that lawyers are one of the most challenging professions to replace, if AI is able to reach this level of intelligence, which will be close to the ‘human-level machine intelligence’(HLMI) described by Bostrom,[iii] then the very existence of humanity is under threat. As Bostrom emphasises, once a machine can surpass the general intelligence of humans; humans will no longer be the dominant life-forms on this planet and “our fate would be sealed”. Therefore, despite the benefit to society that the replacement of human lawyers might provide, the bigger picture indicates that this would be detrimental. Correspondingly, a collaboration between AI and humans seems the most reasonable solution, as according to Forbes, ‘lawyers and judges are only as good as the information they receive, and AI has the potential to significantly increase the quality of information.’ Appropriately, although there are signs of AI threatening jobs within the legal profession, Richardson observes, “AI isn’t going to replace the need for critical thinking. We still need to prepare students to think like lawyers, and I don’t think that’s ever going to change.”

Could AI replace Judges?

Judges, in the Morison and Harkens study, were ranked in the second quartile, because robot judges will provide quicker and cost-efficient judgments, with enhanced information, making justice more accessible to people. Nevertheless, although Susskind has predicted that online courts, working with disrupting technology such as AI, will intrinsically modify the duties of traditional litigators and of judges, he does not expect them to be capable of resolving ‘the most complex and high-value disputes’.[iv]

UCL has developed an AI judge that predicted the verdict of English cases concerning torture and degrading treatment with a 79% accuracy. In that 79% of cases, the AI systems provided the exact same verdict as the court itself. Nevertheless, improvement is to be made upon that 79% if AI technologies are to start replacing human lawyers. However, what is significant about this AI judge is that it is able to not only consider the legal evidence, but also to consider moral questions of right and wrong. This, then, illustrates that AI could potentially be a threat to the job of human judges in the future.

Regulations on AI

Regulations and laws are already changing around AI. Calo argued that AI-specific regulations will emerge, they will likely not be significant reforms but a continual, constant process of small steps that could apply to multiple areas including ‘consumer protection, privacy and tort liability.’ These regulations may subsequently have to be adjusted and adapted depending on the benefit or detriment that some of the AI systems will have in our lives. As the Law Society of England and Wales has emphasised, AI is still in the early stages of its development and therefore, they suggest that regulations should remain limited to first gain context of its forms and the potential ramifications of its use. Similarly, Stilgoe suggested that we first need to understand emerging technologies before we impose appropriate regulations.

However, businesses would like clarity on the regulations of the use of AI. Consequently, as the Financial Times reports, strict regulations on AI are desirable. The LSG suggests that AI systems must have strict liability, which will hold them accountable. This is consistent, with the IBM ethical issues on AI, as they indicated that holding AI accountable is crucial for ethical standards. Consequently, strict liability and the AI ethical standards developed by IBM, will ensure that AI will thrive in all areas, including the legal profession and the regulations can be sufficient to prevent the technologies from replacing humans. This is because the strict liability will apply when the AI has conducted harm to individuals and it is in the interests of justice to hold the coders who created the AI accountable. Accordingly, despite some unexpected scenarios where the coders could not have anticipated the actions of AI, it is only fair that this is so. In fact, this does not have to act as a deterrent to innovation, for if the coders conduct their operations ethically, there should be no reason for AI to act unethically.

AI is still in its infancy. Therefore, currently there are not many regulations regarding the use of AI. Appropriately, the AI Principles developed by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), to which the UK is a party, recognises five values-based principles for the responsible administration of reliable AI. Firstly, the OECD is proposing that AI ought to benefit people and the Earth by propelling inclusive progression, sustainable development and prosperity. Secondly, AI systems ought to be created with the intention to abide by the rule of law, human rights, democratic values and diversity, and they should involve proper safeguards. For instance, allowing human intervention where it is required to make sure we have a fair and just society. Likewise, Article 22(1) of the General Data Policy Regulations (GDPR), which provides that decisions should not be solely automated and subsection(3) provides that a data controller shall impose appropriate safeguards, which include the right of human intervention. Calo recognised that the EU’s GDPR is important in the regulation of AI, as through the GDPR, citizens can acquire information regarding AI-based decisions influencing them. He rightly identifies that public opinion is significant in this situation. If people as citizens or consumers outline their distress regarding the administration of AI, the reputation of companies could suffer as they attempt to build profitable and respectable businesses, “or by governments responding to those public pressures.” Accordingly, the OECD continued to suggest that there should be transparency and proper information given to the public regarding AI programs to make sure that the public understands AI-based results and can challenge them. Fourthly, AI programs shall operate in a strong, dependable and safe process for the whole duration of their use and probable risks should be continually evaluated and managed. Lastly, organisations and individuals advancing, establishing or running AI programs should be held responsible for their appropriate operation in alignment with the above principles. These recommendations are crucial and will likely influence numerous Government regulations. As the OECD has emphasised, although their recommendations are not legally binding, they are extremely influential. The fact that the OECD has the power to influence decisions of other organisations and governments is evident by the recognition of the G20 and their support for the suggestions made by the OECD. Additionally, as Calo asserted, just like with any disruptive technology, the government has a duty to regulate AI to be in the public interest and to make certain that the costs and benefits of AI are evenly dispensed everywhere in society. Consequently, the common matter in all of these suggestions, is the fact that AI should be used in a way that is beneficial and in the public interest.

Governments will need to play a central role to ensure that AI is beneficial to the legal profession. As Stilgoe implies, we cannot allow powerful private companies to create unlimited emerging technologies, without regulations. Similarly, Google suggests that Governments take GDPR as the foundation to ensure safety, privacy, fairness and accountability. The OECD has also urged Governments to enable public and private investment in research and development to stimulate innovation in reliable AI; promote attainable AI ecosystems with digital facilities and technology to share information; ensure a policy setting that will allow implementation of reliable AI;  empower the AI experts and help employees adapt; and collaborate across borders and branches to develop honest administration of trustworthy AI. These regulations should be implemented immediately by Governments, as they are not regulations which tend to hurt innovation, they are merely ensuring that AI created from the day of the regulations onwards, is reliable. Consequently, if the Government implements fair and transparent measures to the development of AI, it is in the right direction to beneficial and reliable AI.

Overall, AI is already influencing the legal profession and an even bigger impact will likely be made in the future. Whilst it is highly improbable that AI will be able to replace human lawyers and judges in the near future, due to the lack of their interpersonal skills, there has been impressive work done by AI thus far like the LawGeex’s win in a challenge against human lawyers.  The use of AI technologies is currently beneficial since it assists human lawyers to operate their mechanical every-day functions more efficiently, cost-effective and accurately. As Dr Aletras emphasises, “we don’t see AI replacing judges or lawyers, but we think they’d find it useful for rapidly identifying patterns in cases that lead to certain outcomes.” These powerful incentives will drive the mass market success of AI in the legal profession. However, the use of AI will only be beneficial assuming that fair and transparent AI is imposed by the Government to ensure that AI is trustworthy, ethical and enforced in a way that prevents the replacement of human lawyers.


[i] Addleshaw Goddard Guest Lecture, ‘Legal Technology’ (Newcastle University, Law School Lecture Theatre, 23 October 2019)

[ii] John Morison and Adam Harkens, ‘Re-engineering justice? Robot judges, computerised courts and (semi) automated legal decision-making’ (2019) 39 Legal Studies 619; R. Susskind Tomorrow’s Lawyers: An Introduction to Your Future (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2nd edn, 2017)

[iii] Nick Bostrom, ‘Superintelligence: Paths, Dangers, Strategies’ (Oxford University Press, 1st edn, 2014)

[iv] R Susskind Tomorrow’s Lawyers: An Introduction to Your Future (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2nd edn, 2017) 121

Lambros Spyrou graduated from Newcastle Law School in 2020 and developed this blog post out of his project on the Research Topic in Law and Emerging Technologies Module.

AT LEAST SIX IMPOSSIBLE THINGS CAN BE THOUGHT OF BEFORE BREAKFAST: IS A SINGLE TEST FOR A DUTY OF CARE ONE OF THEM?

INTRODUCTION

The courts of England and Wales have long since grappled with how to approach duty of care in tort law. The search for a single test for establishing a duty of care, however, is hopeless due to the nature of negligence and society. A general test for a duty of care between a claimant and a defendant has existed since the landmark case of Donoghue v Stevenson, alongside breach, causation and remoteness, for a successful negligence claim. Unlike the other requirements, however, duty is profoundly exposed to changing social norms. This blog post will therefore narrow its scope to a socio-legal lens to demonstrate that a single test for duty is unsustainable in three ways. It will first be shown that a single test is impossible due to the nature of negligence and society. Secondly, how this is reflected in the judiciary’s failure to carve out a single test will be considered. Lastly, it will be shown how the courts’ current approach to duty, which is not contingent on a single test, is most suitable to this area of law. Many scholars and judges have accepted that the judiciary has been unable to define a single test to date, however few have conceded that an adequate solution has emerged from the courts’ examination of the duty of care to date (see, for example, Lord Lloyd-Jones’ comments at [15] in Darnley v Croydon Health Services NHS Trust). This analysis will consequently conclude that the current judicial approach to duty is the most suitable way of deciphering whether or not a duty of care is owed.

I. THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF A SINGLE TEST

Firstly, establishing a single test for whether a duty of care exists is impossible due to the nature of both negligence and society. Unlike most other torts, negligence does not protect a particular interest and significantly overlaps with other areas of law. This means that an infinite number of possible causes of action exist in negligence, all of which a single, “special” test could not accommodate without infringing how other interests are protected, as noted by Lord Phillips in Gregg v Scott. Establishing a single test is also impossible due to the evolving nature of society. This is significant as duties specify requirements as to the way in which people engage in conduct by capturing social “sentiment”; an idea that is largely uncontested by corrective justice and civil recourse theorists such as Cane, Goldberg and Zipurksy. However not only is there an infinite variety of relationships between individuals, but the norms of such relationships are constantly evolving. This makes it impossible to generate a single, perennial test for duty which will apply to “every situation”, as envisioned by Lord Atkin in Donoghue v Stevenson.

The opinion to the contrary, however, merits consideration. Buckland, for example, contends that the concept of duty is redundant and should be abandoned. Such a view is compelling through the “fault-based” lens of negligence liability espoused in Fairchild v Glenhaven Funeral Services Ltd, which maintains that an individual only has a duty to pay damages to those upon whom they inflict loss. On this basis, duty is unnecessary as it does little to prove fault. However Buckland overlooks the fact that the courts determine liability by considering what “reasonable” steps could have been taken to prevent a harm within the duty defined. The “wrong-based” view of liability, advocated by Goldberg and Zipursky, is consequently more compelling as by leaning in a deontological direction, it recognises duty as ex ante as is custom in the courts. As duty remains integral to negligence, the tort will continue to be exposed to societal change. As a result, it is clear that the nature of negligence and society means that establishing a single test for duty is impossible.

II. THE COURTS’ FAILURE TO ESTABLISH A SINGLE TEST

Secondly, the impossibility of a single test for duty is reflected in the judiciary’s failure to establish one. The most commonly applied gateway to duty has been the Caparo Industries plc v Dickman tripartite test; which requires the foreseeability of harm, sufficient proximity of relationship, and that it is fair, just and reasonable to impose a duty. Although other tests have included owing a duty where one’s act or omission may foreseeably injure a neighbour, where an individual assumes a responsibility to another, and within the scope of the neighbour principle provided no opposing policy consideration exists (see, for example, Donoghue v Stevenson, Hedley Byrne & Co Ltd v Heller & Partners Ltd, and Anns v Merton LBC). However, as pointed out by Nolan, these tests have proven unable to accommodate “new” types of harm such as psychiatric illness and economic loss, for which the courts have been forced to develop new categories.  Each will be dealt with in turn.

Firstly, due to difficulties associated with the foreseeability of psychiatric harm given its idiosyncratic nature, the courts have forged separate tests for primary and secondary victims of such harm. These tests are, however, fail to provide a suitable response to social complexity.  For example, the test for secondary victims, who witness but do not participate in a given event, requires “close ties of love and affection” between the claimant and the injured victim following Alcock v Chief Constable of South Yorkshire. Yet, the Law Commission has been quick to highlight how this does not capture modern society in which the family unit typically includes grandparents and cohabitants, who are generally considered not to satisfy this test. Similar criticism can be directed at the Alcock requirement that the claimant viewed the event with their “own unaided senses”. Whilst the case of Alcock concerned when liability might arise for incidents that people might apprehend through the medium of television, the content of which was restrained by the Broadcasting Code, the modern spectator can view events as though present through a miscellany of social media platforms untethered by such codes (see the Broadcasting Act 1990).  Such considerations cast doubt over this category, particularly as new psychiatric illnesses emerge such as occupational stress and nomophobia.

Secondly, the courts have developed a category for economic loss. This is again due to difficulties in relation to the foreseeability requirement, given that financial loss is often a matter of “pure chance”, as noted by Harvey. In cases concerning misstatements and services which cause financial loss not consequent on physical damage, duty has come to hinge instead on whether a responsibility has been assumed via the ‘Hedley Byrne v Heller’ exception. The fact that the judges in Hedley Byrne disagreed over whether this could be applied alongside tests of foreseeability ought to have foreshadowed the problems this would cause. Since the decision, a dichotomy has arisen in cases of pure economic loss: with the foreseeability principle being ignored in some cases yet applied generously in others (see, for example, Smith v Eric S Bush, Spring v Guardian Assurance plc, Williams v Natural Life Health Foods Ltd, and Commissioners of Customs and Excise v Barclays Bank plc). This approach has come at the expense of long established doctrines such as that which prohibits liability for omissions and acts of third parties, and contractual privity and consideration; the significance of all of which has been diminished.

The courts, however, have justified these separate categories on public policy grounds under the ‘Anns’ and ‘Caparo’ tests: arguably to prevent what Lord Steyn has described as a litany of cases that may otherwise arise under a general test of foreseeability. This is compelling when the social capriciousness of psychiatric illness and economic loss is considered; namely, that cases involving these elements often involve a set of unique and socially complex facts which could give rise to any number of possible lines of liability. However, as noted by Nolan, regardless of the plausibility of the courts’ approach within the categories, it remains that the very existence of these categories shows a dissonance in the judicial approach to duty. These new categories, therefore, are inherently problematic and serve to highlight the courts’ failure to supply a single test.

III. THE SUITABILITY OF THE CURRENT APPROACH

This post’s final contention is that the current approach adopted by the courts is most suitable to this area of law, set out in Robinson v Chief Constable v West Yorkshire by Lord Reed. This approach maintains that duties of care should be developed incrementally by “analogy” with established principles, unless in genuinely “novel” cases in which the Caparo test should be deployed. The merits of this approach are best seen through a pluralist lens, which in rejecting the monistic approach of  corrective justice scholars such as Weinrib who seek to explain tort by reference to a single ideal (corrective justice), endorses the balancing of principle and policy by reference to a range of countervailing concerns. Each element will be dealt with in turn. Firstly, the current approach alleviates the need for new categories of duty by establishing the “universal touchstone” of principles envisioned by Lord Lloyd-Jones, rather than a single test, from which the law can be developed coherently in line with modern losses and harms. For example, the fruits of the late twentieth century expansion of duty, largely justified by policy reasoning, are already being reversed: with the exceptions to the rule against omissions being retightened and any immunity for public authorities renounced. Secondly, this has been balanced with the restricting of policy reasoning to cases which are genuinely novel. This “bottom-up” rather than “top-down” approach serves to restrain the judiciary from deploying policy rationale too readily, as shown in ABC v St George’s Healthcare NHS Trust.

Functionalist justificatory models (which aim, generally, to provide torts with a normative grounding by defending the goals which they seek to achieve)  may contend that the current approach could lead to the erosion of the compensatory aims of tort law by lending too much discretion to the courts. This is perhaps evident in Darnley v Croydon Health Services; where Lord Lloyd-Jones, who is associated with a generous approach to duty, found a duty to be present whilst Sales LJ, who has contrastingly denounced the “weaker” approach to duty extra-judicially, found the contrary in the Court of Appeal. This same concern can directed at the retention of public policy use, particularly as the courts have failed to define what constitutes a “novel” case; a point well covered by Morgan. However, both these contentions oversimplify the area. Firstly, as noted by Lord Lloyd-Jones in Darnley, any uncomfortable analogies drawn at the duty stage would be accommodated in the standard considered at the breach stage. Secondly, it is unlikely that the courts will be unable to find an applicable established principle and therefore resort to Caparo. This is evidenced by the novel James-Bowen v Commissioner of Police case, in which the policy justification of divided loyalty was indirectly harnessed from the established principle that an important duty to one group precludes a cross-cutting duty to others. As a result, the current approach can be deemed to have successfully balanced principle and policy to provide a viable solution to establishing a duty of care.

CONCLUSION

In conclusion, the search for a single test to establish a duty of care is a hopeless one. This has been shown by highlighting how defining a single test is impossible, considering how the courts have failed in doing so, and by demonstrating why the current approach to duty, which accommodates socio-legal change by balancing principle and policy rather than via a single test, is most credible. In this regard, the courts’ journey in seeking to find a single test has served to shape and mould judicial precedent to create an adequate solution after all; even if not the one initially envisioned. Going forward, however, it is vital that this relatively new solution is continuously scrutinised as new cases rise through the court system and the socio-legal landscape continues, inevitably, to evolve.

Christy O’Neil is a third-year law student at Lancaster University, who is eager to tackle the disconnect between legal academia and practice.

The Exploitation of Student Renters

Originally posted on Challenges NI on 30th June 2020

Thousands of students across the UK rent their accommodation from a private landlord. Lured into signing contracts for a shared student house from only a few months into starting university and meeting your new housemates, this is an exciting time of adulthood, but the problems a shared tenancy can hold are rarely discovered until it is too late. In March of this year when the severity of the global pandemic became clear, many students requested a reduction or a halt in rent from landlords. There are multiple reports of landlords ignoring the requests of these compromises, and rebuffing any pleas to give leeway on the cost of rent in unoccupied houses.

Absolutely no practical support has been given by the UK government for vulnerable student renters during this crisis. Student loans often do not cover the high costs of their accommodation and living expenses, and many students juggle more than one part time job along with a full-time degree in order to make ends meet. Already paying extortionate money for overpriced rooms in a house, student renters have been left feeling abandoned, whilst students who live in accommodation that is managed by the university or private student corporation flats have had their rent completely stopped. How is it just or equal, that one group of students have had their rent completely stopped during this global crisis, and thousands of vulnerable student renters are left being threatened and forced to pay full rent? Many of these overpriced student houses across the UK are barely livable, filled with mould, damp and broken beds, with landlords and letting agencies refusing to adequately respond to the shocking conditions.

Furthermore, Northern Irish citizens studying in England are disadvantaged from the very start of their degree. The maximum available loan for those from a low-income family is £3,000 less than English students from the same financial bracket. £3,000 makes a massive difference when considering travel costs, accommodation costs, and general student living costs. This is an issue which I disputed last year and tried to contact MPs, and Ministers for Education and Finance, all of whom essentially dismissed this inequality and did little to help. It seems clear to me that those whose roles are to listen and fight for the inequalities of local citizens seem to forget the issues facing students, and we are time and time again cast to the bottom of the priority pecking order.

Gemma Mainwaring, the Student Union Welfare Officer for University of Gloucestershire wrote to local MPs calling for protection for students. In her open letter she stated a key point that “the business model of housing students is based on university physically occurring. The fact that it has come to an end early this year is part of the risk that must be absorbed by accommodation providers – not students.” Students should not be punished by being trapped in tenancy contracts that offer no leeway for exceptional circumstances when many other contractual agreements such as banks, phone and internet contracts have changed their terms to help customers during this financially precarious time. A report based on a YouGov survey concluded that 1 in 8 private renters have fallen behind with housing costs since the coronavirus crisis began, yet the vast majority of landlords refuse to offer any leeway for rent arrears from tenants who have always before paid full rent exactly on time.

Students are an irreplaceable part and vital contribution to our economy yet have been left battling against greed and injustice whilst having to complete their degrees in extraordinary circumstances. Shame on the government for throwing us to the side. As the financial stability and mental health of young, vulnerable renters rapidly declines, the government should be supporting students through  urging landlords to release students from their contracts upon request, particularly over the summer months when university (pre-Covid) is not occurring. Landlords have been allowed to have the monopoly over the banks of student renters for too long, and it is time for change.

Rianna Curran is 21 and a Law student at Newcastle University. She is Co-President of It Happens Here, a student lead society that tackles sexual violence and helps empower survivors of sexual assault.

Sue Farran interviewed about Customary adoptions in the Torres Strait and the Pacific

Dr Sur Farran is interviewed by ABC News on Customary adoptions in the Torres Strait and the Pacific. You can listen to the interview on ABC net.

DR SUE FARRAN IS A READER AT NEWCASTLE LAW SCHOOL. SUE’S RESEARCH INTEREST LIE IN THE FIELD OF HUMAN RIGHTS AND PROPERTY, ENCOMPASSING IN PARTICULAR THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN, CHILDREN AND INDIGENOUS PEOPLE, AND LAND, NATURAL RESOURCES AND INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY. 

Unpacking the Northern Ireland Court of Appeal’s decision in the Loughinisland Case

Sean Molloy

The Court of Appeal (CoA) in Northern Ireland recently ruled that former Police Ombudsman Northern Ireland (PONI), Dr Michael Maguire had “overstepped the mark” in finding Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) officers committed criminal acts of collusion with loyalists who massacred six Catholic men at The Heights bar in the Co Down village in Northern Ireland in June 1994. The full judgment, which can be found here (see here for a summary) has led to a media frenzy with various contributions offering different and at times diverging interpretations of the outcome. Whilst, the Belfast Telegraph’s piece is referring to the families of those killed and is entitled “Loughinisland families’ relief as judges rule Ombudsman report stands”, the Newsletter’s coverage states that “Loughinisland ruling helps “expose fake news of collusion”. Still again, the Law firm KRW Law tweeted that “The power to make a public statement is validated and remains clear. The capacity for a Police Ombudsman to investigate and publish facts remains unambiguous.”

How can one judgment lead to such contrasting perspectives? The answer lies in the fact that as with many cases, there are narrow and broader lenses through which to view a case. Similar outcomes can be interpreted from different perspectives and particular points emphasized over others. In addition, there are often wider implications of court rulings than the direct points of law. With the above in mind, this post attempts to briefly examine the judgment from the perspectives of a number of interested parties. These are namely, the appellants- retired police officers Thomas Ronald Hawthorne and Raymond White-, the respondent- PONI; and the Loughinsland families. The purpose is to advance, as I see it, a number of narrow and broader implications of the case, the latter apparent upon a wider reading of the case history.

Background

The Police Ombudsman in Northern Ireland is an independent, impartial system for the handling of complaints about the conduct of police officers. It serves a role like that of the Independent Office for Police Complaints in England and Wales and the Police Investigations and Review Commissioner in Scotland. It differs, however in that the Police Service of Northern Ireland’s (PSNI) Historical Enquiries Team, set up to examine all murders during ‘The Troubles’, refers to PONI’s Historical Investigations Directorate any matter arising from its work which raises a concern of possible police criminality. The Directorate looks at matters in which members of the RUC (the predecessor of the PSNI and the police force in place during the conflict) may have been responsible for deaths or serious criminality in the past, and in particular between 1968 until 1998. It also receives complaints of a grave or exceptional nature from members of the public about police conduct during this period, including allegations of police involvement in murder, attempted murder, as well as conspiracy and incitement to murder. In this way, PONI is directly engaged in investigating allegations of police misconduct that are historic in nature and directly related to the conflict in Northern Ireland.

In the case of Hawthorne’s (Thomas Ronald) and White’s (Raymond) Application, the NI Court of Appeal was asked to rule on the extent to which PONI had acted outside of its powers. The appellants sought to challenge the lawfulness of a number of offending paragraphs in PONI’s public statement (PS), which suggested criminal conduct on the part of the police. A public statement is a detailed statement of finding provided at the end of an investigation to bereaved families.

By way of brief background, on 9 June 2016, the Police Ombudsman for Northern Ireland issued a public statement arising out of the second investigation of the murders at the Heights Bar, Loughinisland on 18 June 1994. The Executive Summary of the PONI’s statement said the investigation had sought to answer the families’ question: “Why has no one been held accountable for the murder of their loved ones?” The PONI’s statement read, amongst other things that:

“Let there be no doubt, the persons responsible for the atrocity at Loughinisland were those who entered the bar on this Saturday evening and indiscriminately opened fire. It is also important to recognise that despite the feelings identified in this report there have been many within the RUC and the PSNI who have worked tirelessly to bring those responsible to justice. I am grateful to those members of the public and retired police officers who assisted my enquiries. However my investigation into this area was constrained by a refusal of a number of key people to speak to my investigators.”

The appellants in the case claimed that in making determinations of potential criminal culpability in the public statement, PONI had acted ultra vires- acting beyond those powers conferred under the Police Act (NI) 1998.

Delivering the judgment, Morgan LCJ found in the appellants’ favor. It was held that the scheme of the legislation requires the Ombudsman to make determinations on whether a member of the police force may have committed a criminal offence or whether disciplinary proceedings are appropriate. The Court agreed with the appellants ‘that the legislative steer is firmly away from the Ombudsman having power to make determinations of the commission of criminal offences’ [para. 43]. The Ombudsman, in the court’s view, has no adjudicative role in respect of the outcome thereafter. Part VII of the 1998 Act does not impose any express duty on the Ombudsman to substantiate or dismiss any complaint [para. 21]. In doing so, the Court affirmed that PONI was not permitted to make determinations of criminal conduct. PONI’s remit is one of investigation not adjudication [para. 40, 43, 63].

The Narrow Reading

On a narrow reading of the case and judgment, one that limits itself to the particulars of the appeal and the court’s ruling thereon, the judgment has a number of immediate consequences. Firstly, the appellants are likely to feel vindicated of any implied or express accusations of criminal misconduct. In ruling that PONI had overstepped its mark in drawing criminal conclusions, the court was effectively ruling out any inferences that the appellants, as former police officers, were criminally liable. Secondly, the judgment directly impacts on PONI’s powers and thus on how it opts to utilize public statements. The ruling will likely serve as a reference point and benchmark that informs how PONI opts to articulate its findings going forward. Future public statements issued by PONI will, following the judgment, be mindful of attaching findings from investigative work to potential criminality. Doing so, as noted, was deemed by the court to be beyond its powers. Thirdly, the CoA’s ruling disappoints those that are currently awaiting the findings of PONI’s. The judgment removes the possibility that the PONI will make any determination akin to that of a criminal court and will likely restrict its statements to matters of fact. Fourthly, the judgment will likely have implications for other public bodies performing similar accountability and investigative roles. The court reaffirms past rulings that not only are ombudsman offices subject to judicial review (see, for example, R v Commissioner for Local Administration, ex p Croydon London Borough Council) but that courts are more than willing to rule on whether these bodies are operating intra or ultra vires (see, for example, R v Parliamentary Commissioner for Administration, ex p Balchin). The judgment will therefore serve as a further reminder that, as statutory bodies, Ombudsman offices are permitted to act only within the powers that are conferred upon them by statute.

Even on a narrow reading of the judgment, therefore, the direct impacts and implications may well extend beyond the appellants to include PONI, other public bodies and those that have or will in the future lodge complaints against the police. In this particular case, the finding in favor of the appellants obviously extend beyond a victory on a particular point of law. They equally strike out findings or at least suggestions of criminal conduct.  

Nevertheless, despite the win for the appellants, various media outlets opted to focus their attention on the positive way in which the Loughinsland families received the Court’s findings (see BBC reporting here). At first glance, this would appear somewhat surprising, particularly as the CoA undermined the PONIs findings of criminal conduct. Yet, a broader reading of the case and judgment helps to explain their enthusiasm.

The Broader Approach

To understand both the adulation of the Loughinisland families and aspects of the judgment that were favorable to PONI, it is necessary to take a broader approach to examining this case. The original Judicial Review was brought in 2016 with judgement delivered by Justice McCloskey in December 2017. Following complications relating to the role of the judge in formally representing the RUC, a new judge was appointed- Justice Keegan who found in favour of PONI in the High Court in January 2018. The appeal before the CoA was against that judgment. Part of the appellants’ original argument was that the Ombudsman should only issue a public statement when a statutory outcome was reached such as a recommendation for criminal or disciplinary proceedings. The argument advanced was that the most the Ombudsman could report on was that he did not believe that any criminal or disciplinary charges were merited.  To go further was to step outside the statutory role [para. 63]. In short, if PONIs investigations failed to uncover either of these two scenarios, there was no statutory basis for issuing a public statement. The potential implications of any ruling to this effect would no doubt be profound. Effectively, absent these narrow outcomes, victims and their families would have little information regarding serious allegations of suspected serious police misconduct.

However, this notwithstanding, the Court nevertheless refused to quash the public statement. The Court examined Section 62 is the provision at the centre of the dispute in this appeal and provides:

The Ombudsman may, in relation to any exercise of his functions under this Part, publish a statement as to his actions, his decisions and determinations and the reasons for his decisions and determinations.”

The existence of this provision does not necessarily provide a basis in law for the use of a PS. Indeed, part of the judgment involved a consideration and ultimately a rejection of the application of various authorities on the discretion of an Ombudsman (see, for example, R(Chief Constable of West Yorkshire) v IPCC and R v Parliamentary Commissioner ex p Dyer (for a discussion of the case law see Kirkham and Allt, 2016) finding that none of these cases were sufficiently analogous to the case at hand. Instead, the refusal to quash the PS and, by implication, the upholding of the execution of the s. 62 discretion, turned on a human rights issue. In examining the role of PONI in light of article 2 ECHR obligations, the court nodded to its role as an investigative body, which could, in certain circumstances, dispense of the state’s duty to conduct article 2 compliant investigations.

Thus, the CoA judges adopted a holistic approach to statutory construction, one that required looking beyond the literal interpretation of its provisions. This included a consideration of internal and external aids, following the judgment in Pepper v. Hart. In terms of the context of the legislative scheme, for instance, the judgment noted that ‘The Patten Commission expressly recognised the importance of the Ombudsman in securing accountability and public trust in the police’ [para. 50]. Like other mechanisms, such as coroners’ inquests, is the court found it a logical consequence of an investigative body that some approach to articulating the findings of the investigation is necessary.

The court determined that those involved in scrutinizing the activities of public bodies, ought to be able to articulate the outcomes of their investigation. In the present case, the inability to convey to both the families and wider public the outcomes of the investigation would likely lessen public confidence in the accountability of security services. In both refusing to quash the report and in holding that it was appropriate for the former Police Ombudsman to “acknowledge that the matters uncovered by him were very largely what the families claimed constituted collusive behaviour”, the Court confirms that public statements are a necessary and inevitable consequence of the investigative role or PONI.

The families positive endorsement of the judgment is, therefore, a reaction to the fact that the court determined it unnecessary to quash the report and in doing so upheld the findings of PONI. To understand the significance of this aspect of the judgment, it is useful to contrast one of the offending paragraphs in the public statement with another that was not deemed offensive:

(9.2) “police were aware of plans by the UVF, UDA and Ulster Resistance to import a significant consignment of weaponry to Northern Ireland in mid to late 1987 and knew about the arrival of the assault rifles, semiautomatic handguns, grenades and other weapons forming the shipment shortly after it was landed in Northern Ireland”.

(9.9) I have seen sufficient information to be satisfied that corrupt relationships existed between members of the Security Forces in South Down and the UVF Unit, to whom police attributed the murders at Loughinisland. The failure by police to investigate the veracity of intelligence that those responsible had been ‘warned’ by a police officer of their imminent arrest is inexcusable.

The CoA, in refusing to quash PONI’s public statement, held that statements such as those in para. 9.2 of the PS amounted to a narrative of events [para. 63], the expression of which is wholly in line with the purpose of an investigating body. By contrast, section 9.9, according to the Court, “were not in our view decisions or determinations to which section 62 applied and overstepped the mark by amounting to findings of criminal offences by members of the police force” [para. 63]. Examining these respective paragraphs in tandem illuminates once again, the legal point in question- whether PONI has the scope to make determinations of criminal offences. At the same time, reading both statements also points to what was not in question and what, upon refusing to quash the report, the court upheld.

Both statements demonstrate the existence, in the view of PONI, of corruption but differ in the expression of potential criminal culpability attached to them. Whereas the former was deemed to overstep the mark, the perceived existence of corruption remained untouched. Indeed, in supporting this claim, it is noteworthy that the court outlined that the Ombudsman acknowledge that the matters uncovered by him were very largely what the families claimed constituted collusive behaviour. Clearly, what the court was examining was the extent to which PONI could make determinations of criminal conduct based on findings of collusion, not whether collusion existed.

Thus, for the Loughinisland families, the central issue was that the public statement- which held that corruption was a feature of the deaths of their loved ones- was left untouched. Unless the families have a particular interest over questions of intra or ultra vires tests or the mechanics of statutory interpretation, the contestation over the specific remit of PONI’s powers is likely to be of little moment to the families. What is instead significant is that the report in question remains, in the absence of a remedy to quash, the primary record of this case. The findings of collusion remain unchanged.

In addition, there are also wider implications for PONI’s work. The judgment appears to affirm the legality of issuing public statements under the discretion afforded by s. 62. Crucially, this discretion can be used in such a way as to provide, in the interests of public trust and confidence, information to those that have challenged police conduct. This is an important ruling in the context of PONI’s ongoing investigations and one that will no doubt be widely received by those with complaints currently under investigation.

Summing Up

As with any case, whether one party considers a judgment to be a success or failure, will depend not only on the outcome but also their interpretation and reading of it. On a narrow reading, PONI failed on the vires test argument, while the appellants were successful. The interpretation of the CoA was clear in deciding that the PONI had overstepped his mark. While there will likely be differences of opinion regarding the merit of that ruling (for instance, how can PONI provide compensation if it cannot make determinations?), it is nevertheless the case that the appellants won the day on this specific legal point. Inasmuch as the PONI’s offending paragraphs could be interpreted to target individuals, these persons are likely to feel vindicated by the ruling. Moreover, in determining that PONI possesses no adjudicative powers, an important legal principle of innocent until proven guilty must apply.

At the same time, judgments must also be analysed from a broader perspective and in light of a case history. On such a reading, the judgment merely curtails how PONI is able to frame and convey its findings. It does not affect the scope of its investigative work nor how it discharges its statutory duties. There is now a common law ruling on the lawfulness of the issuing of a public statement, which views their function as a corollary to the investigative responsibilities of the Ombudsman. There may be future discussion on the need to extend its scope to including adjudicative powers, but that is a matter for another time. Understood in this way, the CoA’s ruling will serve as a useful framework with which to assist in how PONI opts to articulate the outcomes of its investigative work.

In terms of the overall context of the case, the vires issue was a relatively insignificant one. The objective, from the outset, was to quash the report. In this sense, the decision of the court to affirm rather than remove from record the public statement, vindicates PONI’s findings, albeit with the proviso that any future statements remain within the scope of its powers alongside the always-present common law requirement of procedural fairness. But the ability to continue to utilize PS will be of immense benefit to other families awaiting PONI reports.

For the Loughinisland families, it is not difficult to understand why the judgment was welcomed. In failing to quash the report, it remains the primary record of the events that surrounded the murder of their loved ones. While some will celebrate the vires issue, no amount of spin can remove the significance of the Court’s decision not to do so. And yet, still, the families will no doubt feel bitter sweet, particularly as justice has yet to be served in this case (See Alison Morris’s article in the Irish News).

At a more general level, this case serves as a reminder for lawyers that the impacts of the outcome of judicial reviews often stretch far beyond the particular and technical legal aspects of a case. The case equally illuminates that the analysis of these particular points of law must also be examined in light of the wider case history, including the initial and overall objectives of the parties.

Development impact assessment screening in the wake of People Over Wind

Anna McClean

The requirement that the impacts of certain development be assessed before planning permission can be granted is an established part of the planning process in the UK, and there are two key pieces of legislation which deal with this.

The Town and Country Planning (Environmental Impact Assessment) Regulations 2017 require the environmental impacts of certain major development projects to be assessed. Some types of development, often referred to as Schedule 1 development, will always require an EIA. Other specific types of development, such as some agricultural development and infrastructure development, referred to as Schedule 2 development, may require an EIA but only if the proposed development is likely to have significant effects on the environment.

The Conservation of Habitats and Species Regulations 2010 apply to development which may impact on a site designated as a Special Area of Conservation or a Special Protection Area under European law (‘European sites’), and require that where a development is likely to have a significant effect on a European site an assessment of its impacts on the site must be carried out before planning permission can be granted.  

So whether or not an impact assessment needs to be carried out under both the Habitats Regulations and Schedule 2 of the EIA Regulations depends upon the likely significant impacts of the proposed development. Prior to the 2018 landmark case, People Over Wind v Coillte Teorante Case C323/17, it was settled law that when looking at what the likely significant impacts of a proposed development under either set of regulations, any mitigation measures which the developer had included in their proposal in order to avoid or reduce the harmful effects of the development could be taken into account, at least so far as those measures were sufficiently specific, available and effective. Such an approach was generally regarded as advantageous as it encouraged developers to consider mitigation measures at an early stage.

However, the Court of Justice of the EU’s decision in the People Over Wind, appears to have changed this. The case was a Habitat Regulations assessment case concerning the potential impacts of a wind turbine connection cable on freshwater pearls in a European site, and the Court ruled that in deciding whether a proposed development is likely to have a significant effect on the site concerned and therefore whether a Habitats Assessment is required, it is not appropriate to take account of mitigation measures.

This decision has gained academic attention for seeming to contradict previous decisions, but it has also been suggested that it may not be as out of kilter with previous decisions as it initially seems. As explained above, prior to People Over Wind, mitigation measures were required to have a degree of precision and effectiveness before they could be taken into account in deciding whether an impact assessment was required, and the type of mitigation measures which were taken into account often formed an integral part of the development. Although the Court of Justice of the EU made no reference to any distinction between types of mitigation measures, in People Over Wind the details of the proposed mitigation measures were to be agreed with the LPA after the planning permission had been granted and contained within a Construction Management Plan. The decision could therefore be interpreted as following previous decisions regarding the type of mitigation measures that could be taken into account.

The subsequent High Court case of Langton v Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs and Natural England could be seen to support this. This case concerned a judicial review of various decisions by Natural England to grant badger culling licences. The culling areas included or were near to a number of SPAs. Natural England’s decisions (which predated the People Over Wind decision) were challenged on the basis that in deciding that granting the licences was not likely to have significant effects on the SPAs and no Habitats Assessment was therefore required, Natural England had taken into account mitigation measures. The High Court, rejected this argument, taking the view that the mitigation measures concerned were not of the type in the People Over Wind, but were integral features of the development proposal. It held that not only was Natural England entitled to take them into account, but that it would have been ‘contrary to common sense’ not to.  The applicant appealed this decision on a number of grounds, one of which was that the High Court had been wrong to find that the mitigation measures in question were of a type that could be taken into account in deciding whether a Habitats Assessment was required. The Court of Appeal, however, declined to address this point on the basis that it was purely academic given that Natural England had by then changed its practice.

Neither was the position clarified in the case of R (oao Wingfield) v Canterbury City Council, decided in July 2019. In this case, an application for outline planning permission had been made in 2015 for a development in respect of which a Habitats Assessment was potentially required. The application for outline planning permission contained details of mitigation measures which would be used to address some potential adverse effects of the development and in 2017 outline planning permission was granted without a Habitats Assessment having been carried out. In September 2018, following the ruling in People Over Wind, the LPA required that a Habitats Assessment be carried out at the reserved matters stage. The Habitat Assessment was duly undertaken and concluded that the proposed development would not have an effect on the integrity of the designated sites, and planning permission of the reserved matters was granted in February 2019. A local resident brought a judicial review claim challenging the 2019 decision to grant approval for the reserved matters on the grounds that the original grant of outline planning permission was unlawful because mitigation measures had been taken into account at the outline stage when deciding that a Habitats Assessment was not required. Although the claim was dismissed on a number of grounds, in particular that the error did not nullify the decision to grant outline planning permission and that the LPA had taken steps to remedy its error by requiring a Habitat Assessment to be undertaken at the reserved matters stage, the court was clearly of the view that the decision to grant outline planning permission would have been challengeable by the claimant had they brought a claim within the time frame for challenging that decision. However, it is noteworthy that in Wingfield, like in People Over Wind, the detail of the mitigation measures was finalized after the decision that no Habitats Assessment was required had been made and therefore did not form an integral part of the development proposal although, as was the case in People Over Wind, the court made no reference to any distinction between different types of mitigation measures. This failure of the court in People Over Wind to consider the issue of integral mitigation measures and if and when they can be taken into account has led to the decision being criticized for being a little too black and white and there consequently remains a significant amount of uncertainty regarding this point.

The decisions in People Over Wind and Wingfield have come under additional criticism for not only having removed the incentive for developers to consider and incorporate mitigation measures at an early stage, but also having thrown into question the legality of strategic mitigation systems that have previously been put in place to protect European sites. However, the other side of the argument, and the position that the court appears to have taken in People Over Wind, is that the question of whether an impact assessment is required should be based on a very low, de minimis, threshold and just be used to filter out those cases where there is clearly no risk of adverse effects. According to this argument, the assessment itself then provides the opportunity for there to be a detailed and expert evaluation of the development and any adverse effects it will have on the integrity of the European site, and at this stage any measures to mitigate the effects can be taken into account.

In any event, it is likely that there will be further cases regarding the question of integral mitigation measure and when they can be taken into account, as well as the question of whether the People Over Wind decision applies to EIA Regulation cases as well as the Habitat Regulations. Until these questions have been fully considered by the courts, any decisions regarding whether a Habitats Assessment or EIA is required ought to be approached with caution and in the knowledge that, for the moment, there is a greater risk of them being challenged.

Anna McClean is a PhD Researcher at Newcastle Law School.

Covid-19 and Constitutional Responses to Emergency: Examining Small Island Developing States

SEAN MOLLOY AND SUE FARRAN

There are fifty-eight ’Small Island Developing States’ (SIDS) listed by the United Nations, thirty-eight of which are members of the UN.  In these, as elsewhere across the world, governments had to respond rapidly to the unseen enemy of Covid-19. This post focusses on those SIDS located in the Pacific, many of which were former colonies of Britain, and the legal powers which were exercised to protect their citizens. Specifically, as countries across the globe invoke constitutional provisions allowing for and facilitating a state of emergency, this post considers the legal infrastructures that allow for exceptional measures in response to extraordinary times.

States of Emergency and Covid-19

In the Pacific region there are thirteen SIDS: Fiji, Kiribati, Marshall Islands, Federated States of Micronesia, Nauru, Palau, Papua New Guinea, Samoa, Solomon Islands, Timor Leste, Tonga, Tuvalu, and Vanuatu. In terms of economic wealth, population and land size there is great diversity but one thing they all have in common is a written constitution. In SIDS, many constitutions were enacted following, or just prior to the end of, periods of Colonial rule. For instance, after being governed by a series of countries, Papua New Guinea established its sovereignty in 1975 adopting its constitution in the same year. Vanuatu’s Constitution was created in 1980, following independence movements against Franco-British Condominium rule.  Timor Leste became the first independent state of the 21st century approving its constitution on March 22, 2002. Many of these early constitutions have been subsequently amended or replaced.

Constitutions in newly independent states can serve various purposes. Most basically and like all constitutions, they can define the nature of government (for, example parliamentary democracy, constitutional monarchy), the institutions of the state (for, example, the police, courts, legislature), the separation of powers between different organs (for example, between parliament and the executive, the government and the judiciary) and set out the relationship between the state and citizens.

In contexts emerging from periods of repression or colonial rule, constitutions can also serve another, additional purpose; namely, ensuring that similar power grabs do not occur internally. Upon independence, it is inevitable and, if done in appropriate ways, positive, that different factions emerge to challenge for political leadership. Electoral contests are, arguably, the hallmark of a democracy. Nevertheless, there is always a risk for those that fall short of gaining a seat at the table of politics (and the numerous economic benefits that attach to the status of power) that similar forms of repression and marginalisation suffered under colonial rule will be replaced but replicated by new elites. With this in mind, constitutions enacted after colonial rule may incorporate potential safeguards that seek to limit power imbalances in favour of certain groups over others.

This is important in the context of the current covid-19, particularly when considering how these constitutions balance the need for exceptional measures to respond to crises, while also safeguarding against the conflagration of these powers for personal and party gain. As the virus swept the globe, a number of SIDS, like many other countries, declared a state of emergency. These included Federated States of Micronesia (14 March 2020), Nauru (17 March 2020), Tonga (20 March 2020), Samoa (20 March 2020, Solomon Islands (25 March 2020), Kiribati (26 March 2020), and Fiji (13 April 2020), as examples  (others opted not to, for example, Palau see, Statement from the President (17 March 2020).

Declaring a state of emergency (or health emergency as they are often termed in SIDS) allows the authorities, in times of urgent necessity, to take exceptional actions which often bypass rights and legislative processes, in order to safeguard national security, maintain law and order, protect citizens’ lives and property, keep essential public services working, concentrate relief resources and direct them to the areas of greatest need, and in general to restore normality (see Ní Aoláin and Gross, 2006). For instance, pursuant to Art 78(1) of Nauru’s constitution:

During the period during which a declaration of emergency is in force, the President may make such orders as appear to him to be reasonably required for securing public safety, maintaining public order or safeguarding the interests or maintaining the welfare of the community.

In the context of covid-19, the transferring of these powers is justified in light of a health crisis. Nevertheless, such provisions also carry significant risks. For instance, in granting powers to the state that circumvent ‘normal’ legislation, this transfer of power can have adverse effects on the enjoyment of rights to life, a fair trial, liberty and security, and freedom of assembly and association, as examples (see Amnesty InternationalJoint Committee on Human RightsGreene). In Fiji, for example, there has been widespread criticism of efforts to stifle the press, while in Samoa there have been concerns raised about the passage of controversial bills at a time when Parliament is not sitting. Moreover, in any given state of emergency, there is the risk that these exceptional powers and permitted restrictions on rights can become normalised.

Because many of the risks associated with declaring a state of emergency are similar to the risks facing newly independent states, it might be expected that constitutions of formerly colonialised SIDSs contain important approaches to the construction of their constitutions (although it should be noted that some SIDS constitutions, such as Tonga, do not include provisions on a state of emergency, relying instead on legislation).

States of Emergency in SIDS Constitutions

Many SIDS constitutions permit the government in question to declare a state of emergency. For instance, under art 77(1) of the Nauru Constitution, the President, if satisfied that a grave emergency exists whereby the security or economy of Nauru is threatened may, by proclamation, declare that a state of emergency exists. In Samoa, Article 105 provides for the making of State of Emergency Orders by the Head of State (O le Ao o le Malö) in consultation with the Cabinet, if he is satisfied that ‘a grave emergency exists whereby the security or economic life of Samoa or of any part therefore is threatened’. Proclamations made under this power have been used and amended as the pandemic has unfolded.

As identified, granting powers such as these risk the normalisation of otherwise exceptional measures. Nevertheless, SIDS constitutions can be seen to include a number of safeguards. For instance, in Nauru, if Parliament is sitting, a state of emergency lapses after seven days. If it is not sitting then the period is 21 days, unless approved in a resolution by a Parliamentary majority. If the reasons presented are unagreeable, parliament can thus refuse to extend the state of emergency in question. Similarly, in Palau, if the President exercises his powers to declare a state of emergency, he must call a meeting of the legislature (Olbiil Era Kelulau) to affirm or disapprove the state of emergency, and he may not exercise emergency powers for more than ten days without ‘the express and continuing consent’ of this body. In Samoa, a Proclamation of Emergency only remains in force for 30 days if not revoked earlier, although subsequent proclamations may be made. Any such proclamation has to be laid before the Legislative Assembly either at the time or as soon as it can be called. Any orders made by the Head of State subsequent to the proclamation of an emergency must also be laid before the legislative assembly. As a final example, in Kiribati, section 16(4) of the Constitution provides that:

A proclamation made under this section, if not sooner revoked, shall cease to have effect at the expiration of 3 days (or, in the case of a proclamation made otherwise than during a meeting of the Maneaba ni Maungatabu, 30 days) from the date of publication unless it has in the meantime been approved by a resolution of the Maneaba, and a proclamation that has been so approved shall remain in force so long as the resolution remains in force and no longer.

These constitutional provisions provide various procedures by which the initial declaration of the emergency, including the context and reasons for doing so, can be scrutinised, rejected or, in some cases, extended.

There are also additional protections offered under SIDS constitutions. As news reports from the UK will have made clear, breaching so-called lockdown rules can result in imprisonment. Arguably, freedom from detention is one of the first liberties to give way during a state of emergency. Some SIDS constitutions, however, include provisions directly addressing the circumstances of detention. For instance, under article 79(1) of Nauru’s constitution, there is to be an advisory board that is to hear representations from those detained during a state of emergency. Similarly, under article 6(b) of Kiribati’s Constitution, anyone detailed by virtue of a law or regulating enacting under a state of emergency shall be notified to the Beretitenti (Office of the President) stating that he has been detained, alongside the particulars of the provisions of law under which his detention is authorised.

As noted above, civil rights are often curtailed in a state of emergency. The constitution of the Federated States of Micronesia attempts to safeguard rights by providing under section 9 (b) that a civil right may be impaired only to the extent actually required for the preservation of peace, health, or safety. This provision appears to place limits on the extent to which certain rights can be undermined, subject only to those measures that are deemed as strictly necessary. Of course, such a provision on its own is worth little, particularly if individual governments reasons are not scrutinised. Thus, it is noteworthy that the same provision stipulates that ‘a declaration of emergency may not impair the power of the judiciary except that the declaration shall be free from judicial interference for 30 days after it is first issued.’ This provision is ambiguous but might be interpreted as saying that not only will the courts be permitted to function during a state of emergency, but they might also, owing to the initial part of this provision, have the scope to  scrutinise the extended period of emergency. What is not permitted, it would seem, is questioning the reasons for declaring a state of emergency ab initio. This appears to reflect the position in the UK where courts are being called upon to interpret the laws adopted to give effect to emergency legislation rather than the decision to adopt emergency legislation or the legislation itself.

In addition, some SIDS constitutions can expressly provide for the protection of human rights, a state of emergency notwithstanding. For instance, the Constitution of Papua New Guinea provides under article 233(3) that an emergency law (a) may not alter: (i) Section 35 (right to life); or (ii) Section 36 (freedom from inhuman treatment); or (iii) Section 45 (freedom of conscience, thought and religion); or (iv) Section 50 (right to vote and stand for public office); or (v) Section 55 (equality of citizens); or (vi) Section 56 (other rights and privileges of citizens).

Scope for Future Research

These are, of course, just a number of preliminary observations regarding ways in which SIDS constitutions appear to enable their respective governments to respond to crises such as that of covid-19 while, at least in theory, safeguarding rights. These observations are, at this point, just that but identifying them helps to frame a number of additional questions, which emerge as a result of the partial picture that a textual examination of these respective constitutions presents.

Firstly, and in a general sense, is there anything particularly special about how SIDS constitutions address emergency situations? Are the provisions and mechanisms in place unique to (A) SIDS, (B) SIDS in the pacific vis-à-vis those in Atlantic, Indian Ocean and South China Sea or Caribbean or (C) reflective of how most post-colonial constitutions address states of emergency?

Secondly, what of those SIDS whose power to declare a state of emergency derives not from a constitution but rather legislation (see, for example, the Emergency Powers Act 1978, Solomon Islands, the Public Emergency Act 1979, Niue  and the Emergency Powers Act 1958 in Tonga)? What explains the omission from constitutions and what differences emerge from a legislative rather than constitutional approach?

Thirdly, to what extent have the constitutions in question been successful in restricting overly excessive responses? Reports from Asia and Pacific Policy Forum suggest that in the Solomon Islands, security forces have used violent means to enforce the restrictions. Do constitutional protections make any difference at all? Finally, why do some SIDS such as FSM opt to declare a state of emergency while others, such as Palau, do not?

As countries around the world continue to adopt, end or prolong states of emergency, the phenomenon warrants further research. This post has sought to identify one such area, that of SIDS which hitherto have received relatively little attention. By drawing attention to certain constitutional aspects that have underpinned the response of SIDS to covid-19, it becomes clear that scope exists for better understanding the origins, reasons behind, differences between, impacts of and justifications for, the inclusion of emergency provisions in these constitutions.

Dr Sean Molloy joined Northumbria Law School as a Lecturer in July 2020. He was previously a Research Associate at Newcastle Law School. His expertise is in human rights law, public law, transitional justice and peace agreements. 

Dr Sue Farran is a Reader at Newcastle Law School. Sue’s research interest lie in the field of human rights and property, encompassing in particular the rights of women, children and indigenous people, and land, natural resources and intellectual property.