The Spectator and the jury

A clear breach of the law does not mean that the law was right to begin with.

Rod Liddle was an idiot to seek to publish an article which anyone with the slightest  knowledge of media law would tell you risked a prosecution for contempt.   Whoever at the Spectator took the decision to publish the article was an even greater idiot.  For, as Brian Cathcart rightly points out, the publication posed a genuine threat to a trial which Stephen Lawrence’s family and many others had worked so hard to achieve.  In the end the Spectator was prosecuted for a breach of a specific court order rather than under the general law of contempt; but either sanction would have applied in this situation.

But.  

I am afraid there is a but, for as stupid as the Spectator and Liddle were in publishing the article, it does not make the general law of contempt - which polices publicity in criminal proceedings - correct.  A trial is a matter of public importance; and so in a free society, journalists and the public should be able to discuss the case in court in open and robust terms.  An exception to this should be when such exercises of free speech undermine that other great liberal value of a right to a fair trial.

And here lies a significant problem.  For whilst judges and lay magistrates can, it seems, be trusted to block out adverse publicity when there is a case before them to adjudicate, such respect is not accorded to juries.  Indeed, the law of England and Wales is extremely paternalistic in respect of juries, and often jurors themselves will be punished for seeking further information on the trials on which they have to decide.  Some may say that such protection is unrealistic and ask if the worldliness of jurors is not wanted then why do we have juries in the first place.  On the other hand, however, any defendant should be allowed to answer only the case put against them in court.  It would be wrong for a defendant’s fate to be based on something on which they have not had an opportunity to make a case (and this applies to justices of the Supreme Court in the Julian Assange appeal as much as any hapless juror caught surfing the internet).

Furthermore, the general  law of contempt serves a useful service in regulating the conduct of the press when someone is arrested or charged.  It is not perfect, as the examples of Christopher Jefferies and Robert Murat demonstrate; but it is likely that such prejudicial coverage would be worse if there was no enforcement of contempt law at all.  If we lost the law of contempt generally then the monsterings of suspects would face no real check.

But the paternalistic attitude towards jurors is also creating artificial situations.  The last decade or so has seen it possible for anyone to publish on the internet.  It has also made it possible for jurors to research at ease, regardless of their clear duties to the court.   It is not enough for the law to pretend this will not happen, even if it continues to punish severely those jurors who transgress.

How the competing rights to free expression and to a fair trial should balance is a difficult, if not impossible, question to answer satisfactorily.  Neither liberal principle will always trump the other.  The courts therefore need to find a sensible approach which accords with the habits and expectations of the citizens who will serve as jurors, and those who will discuss live cases using social media.

Just because Liddle and the Spectator should have known better on this occasion, it does not make the general law relating to discussing and reporting cases in the news appropriate in all circumstances.  Justice and free speech are two pillars supporting a free society, and we need to soon work out a way that they do not readily collide.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman

The Spectator magazine, of which Rod Liddle is an associate editor and columnist.

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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What Donald Trump could learn from Ronald Reagan

Reagan’s candidacy was built on more than his celebrity. Trump not only lacks experience as an elected official, he isn’t part of any organised political movement.

“No one remembers who came in second.” That wisdom, frequently dispensed by the US presidential candidate Donald Trump, came back to haunt him this week. Trump’s loss in the Iowa Republican caucuses to the Texas senator Ted Cruz, barely beating Senator Marco Rubio of Florida for second place, was the first crack in a campaign that has defied all expectations.

It has been a campaign built on Trump’s celebrity. Over the past eight months, his broad name recognition, larger-than-life personality and media savvy have produced a theatrical candidacy that has transfixed even those he repels. The question now is whether that celebrity will be enough – whether a man so obsessed with being “Number One” can bounce back from defeat.

Iowa isn’t everything, after all. It didn’t back the eventual Republican nominee in 2008 or 2012. Nor, for that matter, in 1980, when another “celebrity” candidate was in the mix. That was the year Iowa picked George H W Bush over Ronald Reagan – the former actor whom seasoned journalists dismissed as much for his right-wing views as for his “B-movie” repertoire. But Reagan regrouped, romped to victory in the New Hampshire primary and rode a wave of popular support all the way to the White House.

Trump might hope to replicate that success and has made a point of pushing the Reagan analogy more generally. Yet it is a comparison that exposes Trump’s weaknesses and his strengths.

Both men were once Democrats who came later in life to the Republican Party, projecting toughness, certainty and unabashed patriotism. Trump has even adopted Reagan’s 1980 campaign promise to “make America great again”. Like Reagan, he has shown he can appeal to evangelicals despite question marks over his religious conviction and divorces. In his ability to deflect criticism, too, Trump has shown himself as adept as Reagan – if by defiance rather than by charm – and redefined what it means to be “Teflon” in the age of Twitter.

That defiance, however, points to a huge difference in tone between Reagan’s candidacy and Trump’s. Reagan’s vision was a positive, optimistic one, even as he castigated “big government” and the perceived decline of US power. Reagan’s America was meant to be “a city upon a hill” offering a shining example of liberty to the world – in rhetoric at least. Trump’s vision is of an America closed off from the world. His rhetoric invokes fear as often as it does freedom.

On a personal level, Reagan avoided the vituperative attacks that have been the hallmark of Trump’s campaign, even as he took on the then“establishment” of the Republican Party – a moderate, urban, east coast elite. In his first run for the nomination, in 1976, Reagan even challenged an incumbent Republican president, Gerald Ford, and came close to defeating him. But he mounted the challenge on policy grounds, advocating the so-called “Eleventh Commandment”: “Thou shalt not speak ill of any fellow Republican.” Trump, as the TV debates between the Republican presidential candidates made clear, does not subscribe to the same precept.

More importantly, Reagan in 1976 and 1980 was the leader of a resurgent conservative movement, with deep wells of political experience. He had been president of the Screen Actors Guild in the late 1940s, waging a campaign to root out communist infiltrators. He had gone on to work for General Electric in the 1950s as a TV pitchman and after-dinner speaker, honing a business message that resonated beyond the “rubber chicken circuit”.

In 1964 he grabbed headlines with a televised speech on behalf of the Republican presidential candidate, Barry Goldwater – a bright spot in Goldwater’s otherwise ignominious campaign. Two years later he was elected governor of California – serving for eight years as chief executive of the nation’s most populous state. He built a conservative record on welfare reform, law and order, and business regulation that he pushed on to the federal agenda when he ran for president.

All this is to say that Reagan’s candidacy was built on more than his celebrity. By contrast, Trump not only lacks experience as an elected official, he isn’t part of any organised political movement – which enhanced his “outsider” status, perhaps, but not his ground game. So far, he has run on opportunism, tapping in to popular frustration, channelled through a media megaphone.

In Iowa, this wasn’t enough. To win the nomination he will have to do much more to build his organisation. He will be hoping that in the primaries to come, voters do remember who came in second. 

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war