Thinking clearly about superinjunctions

Do not be carried away by the current media frenzy.

Yesterday evening there appeared on Twitter an account which purported to disclose the details of various supposed "superinjunctions".

None of the apparent revelations seemed to be in the public interest. Instead, it seemed a depressing publication of personal information, which, whether true or false, was a needless intrusion into the private lives of those involved. One basis of a civilised and liberal society is that information that only concerns the private lives of those involved should remain privy to them, unless there is a public interest to the contrary. Everyone needs a private space, even celebrities and politicians.

At closer look, some of the examples were, in fact, based on quite normal injunctions which had been reported in the media; a couple of examples were based on current rumours and educated guesswork; and a couple were so unlikely that they appeared to be fabricated. Overall, it looked like a hoax account insofar as it claimed to be giving out reliable information on "superinjunctions". The only slightly interesting point was the number of media and legal twitterers who were suddenly looking at the account not really knowing what could -- and should -- be done with these trivial and personal allegations. Such observers were right to be concerned: one false move could well have been a contempt of court or a fresh defamatory publication.

The background to all this is that the word "superinjunction" now has a special and exciting quality. This is strange as, in one important way, "superinjunctions" do not really exist. What the High Court can offer are injunctions: court orders directed at parties so as to prevent certain specified courses of action. A "superinjunction" is just a normal injunction but with strict terms, and it is not an entirely new legal creature. Strict injunctions are as old as the equitable jurisdiction of the High Court.

Not even in colloquial terms is there an agreed description of what is a "superinjunction". The best practical definition is that it is an injunction, the terms of which mean that disclosure to a third party that the injunction even exists would itself be a breach of the injunction. Sometimes such court orders are entirely proper. In the criminal and human rights context, the analogous "Mary Bell" orders prevent disclosure of details which would point to the identity of a former criminal. In the civil context, such strict injunctions are granted in rare cases where the type of legal right being protected -- confidentiality, legal professional privilege, private information -- is such that the right would itself be lost if the existence of the injunction was revealed.

Unless the contention is that the courts should never protect such legal rights -- thus effectively rendering the law protecting confidentiality, legal professional privilege, private information as having no practical effect in certain rare situations -- then there is a role for so-called "superinjunctions", though they should only be granted sparingly and always for good reason.

It should also be noted that "superinjunctions" are exceptional in libel claims, and when one hears a pundit casually conflate the two issues -- for example, the notorious Trafigura superinjunction was not granted in respect of libel -- then it is usually a sign that the pundit does not actually know what he or she is talking about. Similarly, injunctions where the names of one or more of the parties are simply anonymised are not "superinjunctions" as the fact of the injunction is usually public.

So why is there this current frenzy about "superinjunctions"? Why is the tabloid media desperately seeking to discredit "superinjunctions" in theory and, as far as they dare, in practice? The reason is partly that such court orders undermine a certain unattractive approach to reporting celebrity news. It is also partly because court orders actually work. Unlike with "phone-tapping" and data privacy laws, robust editors and their lawyers cannot blithely disregard the risk of the legal consequences of a breach of an injunction.

But one suspects the primary reason why the tabloid media are now so anxious to undermine the whole notion of "superinjunctions" is that the European Court of Human Rights is expected to hand down its decision in the Mosley case later this week.

The issue in this potentially highly significant case is whether the UK should make it a requirement that before the mainstream media can irrecoverably publish private information, they should first notify the individuals concerned. This sensible and fair approach is deeply opposed by the mainstream media, as the alerted individuals may well immediately apply to the High Court for an injunction to protect their right against private and personal information being wrongly publicised. However, if such injunctions can be discredited in the "Court of Public Opinion" then it is less likely that any adverse judgment in the Mosley case will gain traction.

Ultimately, personal privacy is as much a basic human right as freedom of expression. Neither has an inherent priority over the other. The courts rightly do not presume in favour of one or against the other when the two appear to conflict. "Superinjunctions" are granted in individual cases where the rights of the individuals involved appear to the Courts to warrant an interference with free speech. One hopes that they are not granted too lightly and that, if so, there can be reform as to how the Courts approach such applications.

But we must be wary of the tabloid media seeking to entice us into a frenzy or latter day witch-craze against "superinjunctions" being granted at all. The tabloid media had no proper regard for the basic laws protecting human privacy in the phone-hacking scandal, and so one should be sceptical of their protestations now.

 

David Allen Green is a media lawyer and legal correspondent to the New Statesman

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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Leaving the cleaning to someone else makes you happier? Men have known that for centuries

Research says avoiding housework is good for wellbeing, but women have rarely had the option.

If you want to be happy, there is apparently a trick: offload the shitwork onto somebody else. Hire cleaner. Get your groceries delivered. Have someone else launder your sheets. These are the findings published by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, but it’s also been the foundation of our economy since before we had economics. Who does the offloading? Men. Who does the shitwork? Women.

Over the last 40 years, female employment has risen to almost match the male rate, but inside the home, labour sticks stubbornly to old patterns: men self-report doing eight hours of housework a week, while women slog away for 13. When it comes to caring for family members, the difference is even more stark: men do ten hours, and women 23.

For your average heterosexual couple with kids, that means women spend 18 extra hours every week going to the shops, doing the laundry, laying out uniform, doing the school run, loading dishwashers, organising doctors' appointments, going to baby groups, picking things up, cooking meals, applying for tax credits, checking in on elderly parents, scrubbing pots, washing floors, combing out nits, dusting, folding laundry, etcetera etcetera et-tedious-cetera.

Split down the middle, that’s nine hours of unpaid work that men just sit back and let women take on. It’s not that men don’t need to eat, or that they don’t feel the cold cringe of horror when bare foot meets dropped food on a sticky kitchen floor. As Katrine Marçal pointed out in Who Cooked Adam Smiths Dinner?, men’s participation in the labour market has always relied on a woman in the background to service his needs. As far as the majority of men are concerned, domestic work is Someone Else’s Problem.

And though one of the study authors expressed surprise at how few people spend their money on time-saving services given the substantial effect on happiness, it surely isn’t that mysterious. The male half of the population has the option to recruit a wife or girlfriend who’ll do all this for free, while the female half faces harsh judgement for bringing cover in. Got a cleaner? Shouldn’t you be doing it yourself rather than outsourcing it to another woman? The fact that men have even more definitively shrugged off the housework gets little notice. Dirt apparently belongs to girls.

From infancy up, chores are coded pink. Looking on the Toys “R” Us website, I see you can buy a Disney Princess My First Kitchen (fuchsia, of course), which is one in the eye for royal privilege. Suck it up, Snow White: you don’t get out of the housekeeping just because your prince has come. Shop the blue aisle and you’ll find the Just Like Home Workshop Deluxe Carry Case Workbench – and this, precisely, is the difference between masculine and feminine work. Masculine work is productive: it makes something, and that something is valuable. Feminine work is reproductive: a cleaned toilet doesn’t stay clean, the used plates stack up in the sink.

The worst part of this con is that women are presumed to take on the shitwork because we want to. Because our natures dictate that there is a satisfaction in wiping an arse with a woman’s hand that men could never feel and money could never match. That fiction is used to justify not only women picking up the slack at home, but also employers paying less for what is seen as traditional “women’s work” – the caring, cleaning roles.

It took a six-year legal battle to secure compensation for the women Birmingham council underpaid for care work over decades. “Don’t get me wrong, the men do work hard, but we did work hard,” said one of the women who brought the action. “And I couldn’t see a lot of them doing what we do. Would they empty a commode, wash somebody down covered in mess, go into a house full of maggots and clean it up? But I’ll tell you what, I would have gone and done a dustman’s job for the day.”

If women are paid less, they’re more financially dependent on the men they live with. If you’re financially dependent, you can’t walk out over your unfair housework burden. No wonder the settlement of shitwork has been so hard to budge. The dream, of course, is that one day men will sack up and start to look after themselves and their own children. Till then, of course women should buy happiness if they can. There’s no guilt in hiring a cleaner – housework is work, so why shouldn’t someone get paid for it? One proviso: every week, spend just a little of the time you’ve purchased plotting how you’ll overthrow patriarchy for good.

Sarah Ditum is a journalist who writes regularly for the Guardian, New Statesman and others. Her website is here.