An "extreme" prosecution?

The offence in the infamous “Tiger porn” case is being used again

A man is currently being prosecuted at Kingston Crown Court for possessing images of consensual adult sexual acts. The case has been brought by the Crown Prosecution Service under the notorious section 63 of the Criminal Justice and Immigration Act 2008 which prohibits “extreme pornography”. Myles Jackman, the defence solicitor, has blogged about the case and is also tweeting from Court.

As this is a live trial before a jury there are limits to what can be published about the prosecution and, quite rightly, it is for the jury to determine guilt or innocence on the basis of the evidence and submissions put before them. 

However, it is in the public interest to consider the merits of the law itself, whatever is decided in this particular case.  The “extreme pornography” offence is perhaps the most illiberal piece of legislation ever enacted by Parliament.  It was promoted by a Labour government with the support of the then Conservative opposition. 

Under the “extreme pornography” offence it is a crime to possess an image which is both “pornographic” (defined as of being of “a nature that it must reasonably be assumed to have been produced solely or principally for the purpose of sexual arousal”) and “extreme”. 

To be an "extreme" pornographic image the material has to be “grossly offensive, disgusting or otherwise of an obscene character” (though it is not clear what “grossly offensive” and “disgusting” add to the requirement of “obscene character”) and also depict an act which falls into one of four categories:

(a) an act which threatens a person's life,

(b) an act which results, or is likely to result, in serious injury to a person's anus, breasts or genitals,

(c) an act which involves sexual interference with a human corpse, or

(d) a person performing an act of intercourse or oral sex with an animal (whether dead or alive).

The Act also provides that a reasonable person looking at the image would need to think that any such person or animal was real.

But people’s preferences are varied, and there are a number of sexual practices – perfectly legal in themselves – which can fall into these categories.  In particular, acts which result, or is likely to result, in serious injury to a person's anus, breasts or genitals can apply to many forms of BDSM as well as fisting.

The Act provides only limited defences, all of which are for the defendant to prove.  It is a defence for the image to be from a classified film (a defence which implicitly acknowledges that the portrayal of such actions can be on general release).  It also a defence in general terms if the images are held for innocent reasons, as long as they are possessed no longer than necessary.  And it is also a defence to have been a consenting participant in the image (unless an animal was seemingly involved).  However, the photographer or other image-maker themselves have no defence, nor does any non-participant possessing an image for private enjoyment.

The offence has not had a happy history.  In 2009, the CPS brought the daft “Tiger porn” prosecution in respect of a video of what appeared to them to be a man having sex with a tiger.  In that case the CPS had not listened to video’s soundtrack before putting a man on trial and thereby at risk of imprisonment and being placed on the sexual offenders register.  When the defence pointed out that at the end of the video, the CGI-generated tiger turns to the camera and says “That beats the Frosties advert!” even the CPS had to accept someone watching it would not think the tiger was real. 

The campaign group Backlash has now intervened in a number of other misconveived and illiberal prosecutions, and Myles Jackman has managed to prevent a number of miscarriages of justice.  Myles continues to be a credit to the legal profession for his work in this area.  But it should not come down to a pressure group and a fine lawyer to stop the bad application of a bad law.

Whatever the result at Kingston Crown Court, there remains on the statute book a dreadful piece of legislation and a CPS very ready to exercise its discretion to prosecute even when the images are of adult consensual sexual activity.  There is something both farcical and worrying in the way the state wishes to regulate mere possession of pornography in these circumstances. 

If you do not want images of lawful but “extreme” adult consensual sexual acts, then the solution is not to possess them.  

Simple really.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman

A safe-for-work picture of a tiger. Photo: Getty

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.)

ANDREY BORODULIN/AFP/GETTY IMAGES
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Letter from Donetsk: ice cream, bustling bars and missiles in eastern Ukraine

In Donetsk, which has been under the control of Russian backed rebels since April 2014, the propaganda has a hermetic, relentless feel to it.

Eighty-eight year-old Nadya Moroz stares through the taped-up window of her flat in Donetsk, blown in by persistent bombing. She wonders why she abandoned her peaceful village for a “better life” in Donetsk with her daughter, just months before war erupted in spring 2014.

Nadya is no stranger to upheaval. She was captured by the Nazis when she was 15 and sent to shovel coal in a mine in Alsace, in eastern France. When the region was liberated by the Americans, she narrowly missed a plane taking refugees to the US, and so returned empty-handed to Ukraine. She never thought that she would see fighting again.

Now she and her daughter Irina shuffle around their dilapidated flat in the front-line district of Tekstilshchik. Both physically impaired, they seldom venture out.

The highlight of the women’s day is the television series Posledniy Yanychar (“The Last Janissary”), about an Ottoman slave soldier and his dangerous love for a free Cossack girl.

They leave the dog-walking to Irina’s daughter, Galya, who comes back just in time. We turn on the TV a few minutes before two o’clock to watch a news report on Channel One, the Russian state broadcaster. It shows a montage of unnerving images: Nato tanks racing in formation across a plain, goose-stepping troops of Pravy Sektor (a right-wing Ukrainian militia) and several implicit warnings that a Western invasion is nigh. I wonder how my hosts can remain so impassive in the face of such blatant propaganda.

In Donetsk, which has been under the control of Russian-backed rebels since April 2014, the propaganda has a hermetic, relentless feel to it. If the TV doesn’t get you, the print media, radio and street hoardings will. Take a walk in the empty central district of the city and you have the creeping sense of being transported back to what it must have been like in the 1940s. Posters of Stalin, with his martial gaze and pomaded moustache, were taboo for decades even under the Soviets but now they grace the near-empty boulevards. Images of veterans of the 1941-45 war are ubiquitous, breast pockets ablaze with medals. Even the checkpoints bear the graffiti: “To Berlin!” It’s all inching closer to a theme-park re-enactment of the Soviet glory years, a weird meeting of propaganda and nostalgia.

So completely is the Donetsk People’s Republic (DPR) in thrall to Russia that even its parliament has passed over its new flag for the tricolour of the Russian Federation, which flutters atop the building. “At least now that the municipal departments have become ministries, everyone has been promoted,” says Galya, wryly. “We’ve got to have something to be pleased about.”

The war in the Donbas – the eastern region of Ukraine that includes Donetsk and Luhansk – can be traced to the street demonstrations of 2013-14. The former president Viktor Yanukovych, a close ally of Vladimir Putin, had refused to sign an agreement that would have heralded closer integration with the EU. In late 2013, protests against his corrupt rule began in Maidan Nezalezhnosti (“Independence Square”) in Kyiv, as well as other cities. In early 2014 Yanukovych’s security forces fired on the crowds in the capital, causing dozens of fatalities, before he fled.

Putin acted swiftly, annexing Crimea and engineering a series of “anti-Maidans” across the east and south of Ukraine, bussing in “volunteers” and thugs to help shore up resistance to the new authority in Kyiv. The Russian-backed rebels consolidated their power base in Donetsk and Luhansk, where they established two “independent” republics, the DPR and its co-statelet, the Luhansk People’s Republic (LPR). Kyiv moved to recover the lost territories, sparking a full-scale war that raged in late 2014 and early 2015.

Despite the so-called “peace” that arrived in autumn 2015 and the beguiling feeling that a certain normality has returned – the prams, the ice creams in the park, the bustling bars – missiles still fly and small-arms fire frequently breaks out. You can’t forget the conflict for long.

One reminder is the large number of dogs roaming the streets, set free when their owners left. Even those with homes have suffered. A Yorkshire terrier in the flat next door to mine started collecting food from its bowl when the war began and storing it in hiding places around the flat. Now, whenever the shelling starts, he goes to his caches and binge-eats in a sort of atavistic canine survival ritual.

Pet shops are another indicator of the state of a society. Master Zoo in the city centre has an overabundance of tropical fish tanks (too clunky to evacuate) and no dogs. In their absence, the kennels have been filled with life-size plastic hounds under a sign strictly forbidding photography, for reasons unknown. I had to share my rented room with a pet chinchilla called Shunya. These furry Andean rodents, fragile to transport but conveniently low-maintenance, had become increasingly fashionable before the war. The city must still be full of them.

The bombing generally began “after the weekends, before holidays, Ukraine’s national days and before major agreements”, Galya had said. A new round of peace talks was about to start, and I should have my emergency bag at the ready. I shuddered back up to the ninth floor of my pitch-dark Tekstilshchik tower block. Shunya was sitting quiet and unruffled in his cage, never betraying any signs of stress. Free from Russian television, we girded ourselves for the night ahead.

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