What the Mosley privacy decision really means

Where does this leave effective protection for privacy?

This morning the European Court of Human Rights rejected Max Mosley's contention that the United Kingdom should ensure that those who are about to have their privacy intruded upon by the media be notified in advance. (There is an excellent legal analysis of the decision already at the INFORRM website by Hugh Tomlinson QC.)

There are three main points of significance to this decision.

First, the substantive English law in respect of the misuse of private information remains unchanged. Mosley would still be able to bring his case and the News of the World would still have to pay substantial damages and costs. There is nothing in this decision that actually changes the law as it stands.

The unhappy consequence of the decision is that in situations like the case of Mosley, where there was no public interest in the intrusion, the victim's only remedy will still be to bring an action for damages after their privacy has been irretrievably lost.

This means that only individuals as wealthy and resilient as Mosley have a remedy for the breach of their legal rights. The cheaper, speedier and effective remedy of an injunction, which would allow the enforcement of privacy rights by those not rich and famous, has been held by the Strasbourg Court to be not a requirement.

So, contrary to the misleading spin of the mainstream media about how "prior notification" would favour the rich and famous, continuing with the status quo means that expensive and lengthy damages actions for privacy can only really be threatened or taken by someone of the attributes of a Max Mosley.

Second, this decision may not be the final word in this case. It is open to Mosley to appeal to the Grand Chamber. Indeed, had Mosley won this round, then the UK government may have made such an appeal. If so, this is a matter that will not go away and, just as no one could predict how the Court would rule today, no one can predict confidently what the Grand Chamber may decide, and then there would then be no higher appeal for any party.

Third, it leaves open the difficult question of what protection should there be in the meantime for individuals who face having their right to privacy irrecoverably lost for no good reason.

Such intrusions, without a public-interest justification, will continue to be an infringement of an individual's legitimate right to a private life. The "Hackgate" scandal has shown that tabloids are indifferent to the legal and voluntary restrictions to their intrusions. The commercial desire to publish the private details of individuals when there is no public interest is not a serious "free-expression issue". Obliging the press to have a public-interest justification before publishing such information cannot seriously be called censorship: it is simply decency and fair play. In 99 per cent of cases, the press contacts the subjects of stories in advance, and that is not "censorship" either.

However, given the welcome and impressive development of privacy law since the introduction of the Human Rights Act 1998, today's adverse decision is only mild setback for those seeking a more civilized and respectful society.


David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and a practising media lawyer.

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and author of the Jack of Kent blog.

His legal journalism has included popularising the Simon Singh libel case and discrediting the Julian Assange myths about his extradition case.  His uncovering of the Nightjack email hack by the Times was described as "masterly analysis" by Lord Justice Leveson.

David is also a solicitor and was successful in the "Twitterjoketrial" appeal at the High Court.

(Nothing on this blog constitutes legal advice.)

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood