Privacy, the public interest and "a woman called Imogen Thomas"

The significance of the <em>CTB v News Group</em> injunction.

The first sentence of yesterday's privacy ruling by Sir David Eady in CTB v News Group Newspapers made it clear which way the rest of the judgment was going to go.

While the others who were to be named in the judgment were accorded the usual judicial courtesy of being introduced as Mr This or Ms That, no such respect was accorded to Ms Imogen Thomas, the second defendant. Instead, she is introduced with the dismissive "a woman called Imogen Thomas".

But worse was to come for Ms Thomas. For, even though there had been no cross-examination of the claimant's evidence, and even though her lawyer stressed that she denied asking the claimant for any money (see paragraph 17), Mr Justice Eady said it "appeared strongly" that Ms Thomas was blackmailing the claimant (paragraph 9).

This was a remarkable observation, not least because it was a suggestion of criminal liability. Not even the claimant's lawyers had made the allegation against her.

Today, rival tabloid newspapers to the newspaper defendant have splashed on this "Blackmail" point with photographs of Ms Thomas. Her reputation appears to have been questioned by our most famous libel judge on the basis of untested -- and denied -- evidence. Even by itself, this is an extraordinary development.

So why was it done? Why did Mr Justice Eady use the absolute privilege of a judicial statement to make such an observation on a defendant in a case before him? Well, partly he did so because he could. The evidence of the claimant seems to have been detailed and compelling, and it appears to have been based in part on text messages. Although Ms Thomas appears to have made a bare denial, she did not submit evidence to controvert the claimant's evidence. On the balance of the evidence placed before him, it was entirely open to Mr Justice Eady to form the view he did for the purpose of the interim injunction until trial.

However, more importantly, such a finding by the court provided part of the public interest in maintaining the injunction. The private lives of the claimant and his family were engaged; and so any interference with this right had to be in the public interest.

It was not enough to assert a right to free expression. In cases such as this, the court has to balance the public interest in freedom of expression against the public interest in the privacy of individuals. Here, the court found that, on the basis of the (untested but not uncontroverted) evidence of Ms Thomas's conduct, and on other evidence, that there was no public interest in publication of details of the claimant's private life. Instead, the public interest was in ordering that the private information should not be published and that the claimant's name not be made public.

This whole exercise is perhaps artificial: the widely-suggested claimant in this action is merely a couple of mouse clicks away. But, as paragraphs 27 and 28 of the judgment makes clear, the fact that some information is supposedly in the public domain does not mean that the parties to whom the court order is addressed can escape. This creates the rather unhappy consequence for the newspaper defendant of carrying the legal costs of fighting the case, while not commercially benefiting from the "kiss and tell story".

This and other cases are steadily making such traditional "kiss and tell stories" more difficult and costly. This is not necessarily a bad thing; if there is no public interest with an interference with someone's private life, then it is hard to justify the press intrusion and public humiliation. Indeed, a respect for personal privacy and an avoidance of humiliation are marks of a civilised society. And, in this case, the newspaper did not even try to argue there was a public interest.

Supporters of privacy law will emphasise that, unlike libel, the "public interest" is built into the DNA of privacy law. There should never be any privacy injunction if the public interest in publication outweighs the need to respect privacy. The lack of a public interest defence that has long marred libel law should thereby not be a problem with privacy law.

That said, the future for privacy law is uncertain. The courts do not want their orders to be futile, and so widespread internet publication of personal details may mean that injunctions are not granted too readily. The tabloid press may convince politicians that there should be new privacy legislation that is not so focused on injunctions (though the "phone-hacking" scandal shows how little the tabloids care for general statutory protections).

There is currently a battle for primacy in Fleet Street over the jurisdiction of the High Court and the freedom of the press to do what it likes with private information. It is not certain who, if anyone, will win this particular battle: not all conflicts have a tidy resolution. But in the meantime, the commercial basis of the traditional "kiss and tell story" will need to be reassessed, and it is difficult to see why that is a bad thing.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and a 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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Cabinet audit: what does the appointment of Andrea Leadsom as Environment Secretary mean for policy?

The political and policy-based implications of the new Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs.

A little over a week into Andrea Leadsom’s new role as Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra), and senior industry figures are already questioning her credentials. A growing list of campaigners have called for her resignation, and even the Cabinet Office implied that her department's responsibilities will be downgraded.

So far, so bad.

The appointment would appear to be something of a consolation prize, coming just days after Leadsom pulled out of the Conservative leadership race and allowed Theresa May to enter No 10 unopposed.

Yet while Leadsom may have been able to twist the truth on her CV in the City, no amount of tampering will improve the agriculture-related side to her record: one barely exists. In fact, recent statements made on the subject have only added to her reputation for vacuous opinion: “It would make so much more sense if those with the big fields do the sheep, and those with the hill farms do the butterflies,” she told an audience assembled for a referendum debate. No matter the livelihoods of thousands of the UK’s hilltop sheep farmers, then? No need for butterflies outside of national parks?

Normally such a lack of experience is unsurprising. The department has gained a reputation as something of a ministerial backwater; a useful place to send problematic colleagues for some sobering time-out.

But these are not normal times.

As Brexit negotiations unfold, Defra will be central to establishing new, domestic policies for UK food and farming; sectors worth around £108bn to the economy and responsible for employing one in eight of the population.

In this context, Leadsom’s appointment seems, at best, a misguided attempt to make the architects of Brexit either live up to their promises or be seen to fail in the attempt.

At worst, May might actually think she is a good fit for the job. Leadsom’s one, water-tight credential – her commitment to opposing restraints on industry – certainly has its upsides for a Prime Minister in need of an alternative to the EU’s Common Agricultural Policy (CAP); a policy responsible for around 40 per cent the entire EU budget.

Why not leave such a daunting task in the hands of someone with an instinct for “abolishing” subsidies  thus freeing up money to spend elsewhere?

As with most things to do with the EU, CAP has some major cons and some equally compelling pros. Take the fact that 80 per cent of CAP aid is paid out to the richest 25 per cent of farmers (most of whom are either landed gentry or vast, industrialised, mega-farmers). But then offset this against the provision of vital lifelines for some of the UK’s most conscientious, local and insecure of food producers.

The NFU told the New Statesman that there are many issues in need of urgent attention; from an improved Basic Payment Scheme, to guarantees for agri-environment funding, and a commitment to the 25-year TB eradication strategy. But that they also hope, above all, “that Mrs Leadsom will champion British food and farming. Our industry has a great story to tell”.

The construction of a new domestic agricultural policy is a once-in-a-generation opportunity for Britain to truly decide where its priorities for food and environment lie, as well as to which kind of farmers (as well as which countries) it wants to delegate their delivery.

In the context of so much uncertainty and such great opportunity, Leadsom has a tough job ahead of her. And no amount of “speaking as a mother” will change that.

India Bourke is the New Statesman's editorial assistant.