Whatever happened to libel reform?

The need for changing libel law remains urgent.

Once upon a time there was a misconceived and illiberal libel case. In fact, there were many; but this one stood out. The claim brought against Dr Simon Singh by the now discredited British Chiropractic Association was so repellent on its facts that via the internet and -- towards the end -- the mainstream media, it became the main basis for a libel reform campaign which in turn led to all major political parties committing to reform in their manifestos.

Simon Singh did not win that case outright. Instead, the BCA withdrew the case after he appealed successfully to the Court of Appeal on just a preliminary point. By that stage the case had lasted two years and Simon Singh tells me he was exposed to £250,000 of legal costs. The case was still nowhere near a full trial. And such a waste of time and money is not untypical in libel litigation.

But the fundamental problem with libel is not really the costs: in itself libel litigation is not more or less expensive than any other civil litigation. Nor are the delays exceptional: all High Court litigation plods along at a frustratingly slow pace. The problem is the wrongful use to which libel law is put. In essence, libel law has badly lost its way.

Libel is used (and commercially promoted by claimant lawyers) as a tool of "reputation management". This means that it is deployed so as to get things taken down from websites, or to ensure things are not published in print editions. However, this is a cynical distortion of what libel should be about.

Instead, libel law should be about the vindication of reputations, and not their "management". The clumsy but coercive law of libel should not be a mere PR technique. However, it is routinely used almost as if it provides a property right over the words of others. With one lawyer's letter, content is removed or not published in the first place.

There are two main reasons why libel has ended up in such an unfortunate state. First, there are problems with the tort itself: it is still actionable without the need to show damages, and the claimant effectively has to show nothing other than publication to bring a case. Accordingly, a libel case is very easy to launch -- and thereby threaten to launch.

Second, for decades libel served the useful function of regulating the popular press (whilst maintaining the fiction that the press was not being regulated). Libel litigation was generally a Fleet Street affair, with all the editors and lawyers involved working within a few hundred yards of each other. There were occasional cases where outsiders were caught up in libel -- for example, the McLibel two -- but for the most part, libel prevented tabloid excesses in practice, even if the substantive law was flawed. But those monochrome days have gone, and libel law is not well placed for dealing with internet publications.

There are currently few high profile libel cases, so libel is less news worthy. The Courts have also modified some of the abuses of libel law and practice; for example, it is now less difficult (though still not straightforward) to strike out cases as "abuses of process". But there is only so much the courts can do. There needs to be primary legislation. Things which would be in the public interest to publish are not being published, just because of the law of libel.

Is reform any nearer? Slightly. Over the last year or so, the Ministry of Justice have put together a draft Defamation Bill. It contains many sensible modernizing reforms. The draft Bill has been welcomed by a parliamentary joint committee. But there is still a real risk that the government will not include it in the next Queen's Speech.

So, if you are around London today, do go and join the lobby of parliament for libel reform, from 6pm onwards. And take an interest in the draft Bill, and keep watching the campaign. All the efforts of Simon Singh and many others will be for nothing if, at this late moment, the campaign for libel reform fails.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and a media lawyer. His Jack of Kent blog closely followed the BCA v Singh case.

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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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear