Civil disobedience and the Rule of Law

Why breaking the law should not be the first resort.

When should we not comply with the law? For some, the answer to this question is easy. The law should be disregarded when the law is unjust. There is, the argument goes, no reason to adhere to any law when that law is wrong. This is even the case in a modern democratic society where those making and enforcing the law supposedly have some sort of mandate of legitimacy. It would appear that any such law is made to be broken.

Against this view is the absolutist notion that the law is always to be obeyed without any question. In no circumstances can one take the law into their own hands. The only imperative is to act in accordance with lawful authority, regardless of the particular law and concerns about its source: there is nothing to be done but to do what you are told.

These extremes of order and disorder are invariably attractive to the unthinking. Both the shallow radical and the thuggish totalitarian do not need to think hard about any given situation; indeed, they do not need to think at all. But both ignore the "Rule of Law" and its crucial and precarious role in a liberal state.

The great left-wing historian E. P. Thompson pointed out that far from being necessarily an instrument of oppression, the Rule of Law can provide a great benefit for the weak and unfranchised. If all actions require a lawful basis, then those who otherwise would readily abuse power were also restrained by the law. It is not open for those with power to simply act as they will. Of course certain laws were unjust and unacceptable; but the general application of the principle that one should obey the law may protect the vulnerable from the knave and the fool.

In modern capitalism, the people most likely to casually disobey the law are actually not the "great unwashed" of student protesters and leftist activists. This is for the simple reason that a requisite of abusing power is to have power in the first place.

Instead, casual law-breakers are -- as the hacking, banking, and expenses scandals show -- often the very politicians, financiers, tabloid journalists, and police officers who routinely hold their fellow citizens to standards which they are not willing to meet themselves. They may talk of absolute adherence to the law, but they walk just like any superficial revolutionary. The powerful can be civilly disobedient, too.

The key problem with the Rule of Law in this country is not that, from time to time, protesters may stay in certain private and public spaces too long. It is rather that many with power feel -- or know -- they can get away with far worse abuses, from non-complying with financial regulations to bribing public officials. Indeed, the police officer happily using excessive force is as much a law-breaker as the aggravating trespasser, and his or her culpability is actually much worse because of the coercive force they are abusing.

George Orwell once described this country as a family with the wrong members in control. It now often feels that like a jurisdiction with well-placed law-breakers beyond any real control. Hapless individuals can end up with criminal records for minor misdemeanours, with their lives ruined, whilst those whose abuses have affected the lives of many others keep their pensions and usually their jobs. A citizen can lose their job or their liberty because of a moment's stupidity of a police officer, whilst a deliberately unlawful act by that same officer may get a written warning at worst.

The Rule of Law is therefore important because it can be the only thing which can check or deter the powerful from wrong-doing. It is a doctrine for the protection of all of us.

This, however, does not mean that there should never be civil disobedience. It instead requires us to consider the wider implications of what would otherwise be a deliberate unlawful act. Is the proposed course of action a mere gesture, some pose as a latter-day outlaw? Is a person breaking the law just to show that they can? Or is it really the case that the principle of justice cannot be asserted in any other way than to undermine the standard requirement of legality?

Each of us takes the daily benefit of the lawful behaviour of others. We are all better off because other people comply with the law. To disobey a law should thereby not be a selfish ploy or an act of vanity. There should be a greater and well-defined public good as the prize of breaking the law, and any breach should be no more than necessary than to obtain that prize. There are many ways to discredit and change a law other than to break it. On occasion it may perhaps be entirely just to disobey the law; but over time, the Rule of Law is fundamental to a just society.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of 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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The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.