Making an example of Edward Woollard

Has there been a miscarriage of justice?

Edward Woollard was a bloody idiot who could well have killed somebody. However, this should not mean that he should be tried and punished unfairly; there is no reason for English justice to be a bloody idiot, too.

However, to begin with, one thing must be made clear. There can be no sensible excuse for what he did with that fire extinguisher. In the words of the Guardian:

[Woollard] was seen picking up the half-empty canister, discarded by another student, before spraying the crowd below and then throwing it in the direction of police beneath. Other footage showed it hurtling from the roof to land with a heavy, audible thud within a metre of police officers.

This is the sort of case where there should be criminal liability. There even seems good reason to give a custodial sentence. However, Woollard was sentenced to an incredible 32 months of imprisonment. This seems harsh and disproportionate in respect of an impulsive action where (thankfully) no one was actually injured.

Strictly speaking, Woollard was not even directly prosecuted for the fire extinguisher incident. The charge, as supplied by the Crown Prosecution Service, reads more generally:

Edward Woollard, on 10 November 2010 at Milbank Tower, London SW1, used or threatened unlawful violence when present together with others, being three or more persons in total, who used or threatened unlawful violence, and the conduct taken together was such as would cause a person of reasonable firmness present at the scene to fear for his or her personal safety, contrary to Section 2 of the Public Order Act 1986.

Without wishing to diminish the seriousness of what Woollard did, is there a question about whether this was actually the correct offence with which to charge and prosecute him? Was this really a Section 2 offence, with its onerous range of possible sentences?

The offence of "violent disorder" requires there to be three or more individuals threatening unlawful violence, although not all of them need to be charged or identified. It is not an offence that should be prosecuted in respect of a discrete act by one individual. After all, it was only Woollard who dropped a fire extinguisher from Milbank Tower.

Perhaps significantly, the CPS has now confirmed that no other person has been charged in respect of violence at Milbank Tower, only Woollard. But unless there were others engaged in "violent disorder," the Section 2 offence simply does not seem to apply, however incredibly stupid the particular action.

Can one be concerned that this offence was chosen because the range of custodial sentences available to the sentencing court would be higher than another offence that dealt with his individual actions? It must be noted that Woollard had given himself up and had indicated that he would plead guilty. It was thereby unlikely he or his lawyer would object to the then offence selected.

The Section 2 offence is usually used for mass pub fights or incidents involving football hooligans. Often there is an element of planning, or there are serious knock-on effects: a group throwing missiles or having a punch-up. (See these examples with similar sentences put together here by @MTPT on Twitter.)

It is clear that Woollard did not plan to drop the extinguisher: it was an impulsive, if dangerous act. As Deborah Orr says in the Guardian:

He was a schoolboy who had came up on a coach from the New Forest to attend a protest organised by the National Union of Students (NUS), and there is no sign that he was expecting to be caught up in a breakaway riot that day. He wore no hood. He wore no mask. He had brought no billiard balls. He didn't even liberate the fire extinguisher in the first place.

However, in passing judgment, Geoffrey Rivlin, QC told Woollard that he was "exceedingly fortunate" his action did not result in death or severe injury to others, as it was a case of "serious criminal violence creating a situation of grave danger to others".


[T]he right of peaceful protest is a precious one. Those who abuse it and use the occasion to indulge in serious violence must expect a lengthy sentence of immediate custody.

In respect of Woollard's intentions:

[His main motivation] was to create a sense of disturbance, anarchy and antisocial behaviour.

The judge then turned to the sentence to be passed:

It is deeply regrettable, indeed a shocking thing, for a court to have to sentence a young man such as you to a substantial term of custody, but the courts have a duty to provide the community with such protection from violence as they can, and this means sending out a very clear message to anyone minded to behave in this way that an offence of this seriousness will not be tolerated.

If ever a case calls for a deterrent sentence, this is it. I wish to stress, however, that this is not a case of making an example of you alone. Anyone who behaves in this way and comes before the courts must expect a long sentence of custody.

Was this the correct approach? Or was it unjust?

A "deterrent" sentence is one, by definition, that is disproportionate to the offence committed but has been imposed for wider policy reasons: so as to have an effect on others.

However, justice requires that a convicted defendant be treated similarly to another person convicted of the same crime, unless there is a good reason to depart from a consistent approach.

There is no reason for violent disorder at a political demonstration to be more worthy of a deterrent sentence than a fight outside a public house or an attack by a racist gang. It is in the nature of Section 2 offences that they will tend to be in respect of disturbances that have a communal or social context.

A disproportionate sentence really serves the interests of no one. It does not assist the court in making the supposed "example": for if it is overturned on appeal, then any force of deterrence is lost.

It does not serve the public, as it can suggest to those who plan disorder that one mayas well "be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb".

It will not deter actions similar to those of Woollard, as the sentence has been given in respect of something evidently done on impulse.

And it certainly does not assist in the rehabilitation of an 18-year-old offender, whose life is now ruined.

Rather, this is the very type of conviction and sentence that may tend to undermine the legitimacy of the state and its administration of justice. It appears that although Woollard was a bloody idiot, this could well be the wrong offence and the wrong sentence.

And, if this is so, then by seeking to make an example of him the court, perhaps, has itself set the bad example.

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.)

Richard Burden
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The warnings Bosnian gravestones carry for us in 2016

Xenophobia does not usually lead to Srebrenica. But it can do.

Two weeks ago, I joined a visit to Bosnia organised by Remember Srebrenica. If you have ever seen one of the Commonwealth War Graves cemeteries in Northern France, you will have a sense of what the cemetery in Potocari, near Srebrenica, is like. Row upon row of identical white headstones stretching into the distance. Whereas in France, of course, most of the headstones are marked by the cross, in Potocari they are white obelisks. Overwhelmingly, they mark the graves of Muslims.

In the 1990s, the old battery factory of Potocari was the headquarters of Dutch troops. They had been deployed to uphold the United Nations designation of the enclave as a safe area. Their presence, however, did not stop Serb troops from rounding up around 25,000 people sheltering at the base in July 1995. Once the UN troops stood aside, families were divided. Most of the women and children were loaded and sent west to areas of the country still controlled by the Bosnian government. The men and boys were loaded on to separate trucks. Within days, most of them were systematically shot.

Many other men and boys had already taken to the woods to escape, only to face shells, snipers and ambush on the way. Some, like 19-year-old Hasan Hasanovic, made it through to free territory around Tuzla. Many did not. Those did not die in the woods were either persuaded to give themselves up, or were captured. Like the men and boys who had been taken from outside the UN base at Potocari, most simply disappeared. To this day, their bones are still being found in or near mass graves in eastern Bosnia.

And so, 21 years on, I met Hasan at Potocari. July1995 was the last time he saw his twin brother Hussein, his father Aziz or his uncle, Hasan.

The former UN Secretary General Kofi Annan described the Srebrenica massacre as the worst crime on European soil since the Second World War. Indeed, the word massacre doesn’t convey the enormity of what happened. Earlier this year, the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia found 1990s Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadzic guilty of involvement in genocide. The verdict in the trial of military leader Ratko Mladic is expected later this year.

Nobody who visits Potocari can fail to be moved by what you see there. For me, it brought back memories of how, as a new MP back in the 1990s, I was one of those calling for more assertive international action to stop the carnage that was unfolding in Bosnia. It was an unfamiliar position to find myself in. All my political life until that point, I had been amongst those opposing involvement in military action abroad. Now I found myself supporting intervention. For three years before the Srebrenica genocide, people in Sarajevo had been starved of food, medicines and even the means to defend themselves as their city was remorselessly pounded from the hills that surround it. We knew it. We could see it on TV. We also saw that neither Europe nor NATO nor the UN were taking action that could have stopped it.

There were always so many geopolitical reasons not to intervene effectively. I heard them day after day from Ministers in the House of Commons. But that did not help the men, women and children who were dying in Sarajevo, and in 1995 it did not save Hasan’s twin brother, his father, his uncle or the 8,000 others who ended up in the mass graves around Srebrenica.

Since I have returned from Bosnia, two things keep dominating my thinking. The first is about Syria. The political circumstances that have led to the destruction of Aleppo today are not the same as those facing Sarajevo in the 1990s. For people trapped there though, the parallels must feel much more real than the differences. I don’t claim to have an off-the-shelf action plan for what the international community should do today any more than anyone else does. I just keep thinking how in twenty years’ time, people visiting Aleppo - hopefully reconstructed as Sarajevo has been today - will ask: “How could the world have let this happen in 2016?” What will be our answer?

The other thing that dominates my thoughts is that the genocide in Bosnia hit people like me. A man I met, who unexpectedly found himself becoming a soldier in 1992, told me how, before the war, he wore a t-shirt, jeans and an earring. On a good day, he would to listen to the Ramones. On a bad day, it would be the Sex Pistols. I am a bit older than him, but this was still my generation. And it happened In Europe.

What is more, the murders and the ethnic cleansing were not committed by strangers. So often, they were committed by neighbours. These were normal people who had been whipped up to dehumanise those who they were told were “different”. They were told that their way of life was under threat. They internalised it. They believed it. And, down the line, they no longer needed persuading it was “them or us”.

Most of the time, xenophobia does not lead to the horrors that have scarred Srebrenica forever. But it can do. That a lesson for all of us must never forget. So next time you hear someone talking about people living either down the road or across the sea being "them" not "us", don't shrug and walk away. Speak up and speak out instead.

Richard Burden is Labour MP for Birmingham Northfield and a Shadow Transport Minister. He visited Bosnia with the Remembering Srebrenica charity in October 2016. You can find out more about the Remembering Srebrenica charity here.

Richard Burden is MP for Birmingham Northfield. Follow him on Twitter @RichardBurdenMP.