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.)

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In the 1980s, I went to a rally where Labour Party speakers shared the stage with men in balaclavas

The links between the Labour left and Irish republicanism are worth investigating.

A spat between Jeremy Corbyn’s henchfolk and Conor McGinn, the MP for St Helens North, caught my ear the other evening. McGinn was a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Westminster Hour, and he obligingly revisited the brouhaha for the listeners at home. Apparently, following an interview in May, in which McGinn called for Corbyn to “reach out beyond his comfort zone”, he was first threatened obliquely with the sack, then asked for a retraction (which he refused to give) and finally learned – from someone in the whips’ office – that his party leader was considering phoning up McGinn’s father to whip the errant whipper-in into line. On the programme, McGinn said: “The modus operandi that he [Corbyn] and the people around him were trying to do [sic], involving my family, was to isolate and ostracise me from them and from the community I am very proud to come from – which is an Irish nationalist community in south Armagh.”

Needless to say, the Labour leader’s office has continued to deny any such thing, but while we may nurture some suspicions about his behaviour, McGinn was also indulging in a little airbrushing when he described south Armagh as an “Irish ­nationalist community”. In the most recent elections, Newry and Armagh returned three Sinn Fein members to the Northern Ireland Assembly (as against one Social Democratic and Labour Party member) and one Sinn Fein MP to Westminster. When I last looked, Sinn Fein was still a republican, rather than a nationalist, party – something that McGinn should only be too well aware of, as the paternal hand that was putatively to have been lain on him belongs to Pat McGinn, the former Sinn Fein mayor of Newry and Armagh.

According to the Irish News, a “close friend” of the McGinns poured this cold water on the mini-conflagration: “Anybody who knows the McGinn family knows that Pat is very proud of Conor and that they remain very close.” The friend went on to opine: “He [Pat McGinn] found the whole notion of Corbyn phoning him totally ridiculous – as if Pat is going to criticise his son to save Jeremy Corbyn’s face. They would laugh about it were it not so sinister.”

“Sinister” does seem the mot juste. McGinn, Jr grew up in Bessbrook during the Troubles. I visited the village in the early 1990s on assignment. The skies were full of the chattering of British army Chinooks, and there were fake road signs in the hedgerows bearing pictograms of rifles and captioned: “Sniper at work”. South Armagh had been known for years as “bandit country”. There were army watchtowers standing sentinel in the dinky, green fields and checkpoints everywhere, manned by some of the thousands of the troops who had been deployed to fight what was, in effect, a low-level counter-insurgency war. Nationalist community, my foot.

What lies beneath the Corbyn-McGinn spat is the queered problematics of the ­relationship between the far left wing of the Labour Party and physical-force Irish republicanism. I also recall, during the hunger strikes of the early 1980s, going to a “Smash the H-Blocks” rally in Kilburn, north London, at which Labour Party speakers shared the stage with representatives from Sinn Fein, some of whom wore balaclavas and dark glasses to evade the telephoto lenses of the Met’s anti-terrorist squad.

The shape-shifting relationship between the “political wing” of the IRA and the men with sniper rifles in the south Armagh bocage was always of the essence of the conflict, allowing both sides a convenient fiction around which to posture publicly and privately negotiate. In choosing to appear on platforms with people who might or might not be terrorists, Labour leftists also sprinkled a little of their stardust on themselves: the “stardust” being the implication that they, too, under the right circumstances, might be capable of violence in pursuit of their political ends.

On the far right of British politics, Her Majesty’s Government and its apparatus are referred to derisively as “state”. There were various attempts in the 1970s and 1980s by far-right groupuscules to link up with the Ulster Freedom Fighters and other loyalist paramilitary organisations in their battle against “state”. All foundered on the obvious incompetence of the fascists. The situation on the far left was different. The socialist credentials of Sinn Fein/IRA were too threadbare for genuine expressions of solidarity, but there was a sort of tacit confidence-and-supply arrangement between these factions. The Labour far left provided the republicans with the confidence that, should an appropriately radical government be elected to Westminster, “state” would withdraw from Northern Ireland. What the republicans did for the mainland militants was to cloak them in their penumbra of darkness: without needing to call down on themselves the armed might of “state”, they could imply that they were willing to take it on, should the opportunity arise.

I don’t for a second believe that Corbyn was summoning up these ghosts of the insurrectionary dead when he either did or did not threaten to phone McGinn, Sr. But his supporters need to ask themselves what they’re getting into. Their leader, if he was to have remained true to the positions that he has espoused over many years, should have refused to sit as privy counsellor upon assuming his party office, and refused all the other mummery associated with the monarchical “state”. That he didn’t do so was surely a strategic decision. Such a position would make him utterly unelectable.

The snipers may not be at work in south Armagh just now – but there are rifles out there that could yet be dug up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some in Sinn Fein knew where they are, but one thing’s for certain: Corbyn hasn’t got a clue, bloody or otherwise. 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser