Harry Mount's attack on barristers is shot through with personal loathing

These cuts will actually destroy the legal process.

Harry Mount’s scathing article about barristers in the current issue of the Spectator is shot through with a very personal loathing of the profession, which I suspect is accountable for its vitriol. It is also heavily reliant on point-missing observations about how much some top QCs earn, riddled with false generalizations and concludes with distressingly flippant observations about the effects of Chris Grayling’s massive cuts to Legal Aid. I think I might expire of boredom and irritation – an odd combination, I know – if I read one more journalist sounding off about how top barristers earn "too much".

Anyone with the most rudimentary knowledge of what life at the Bar is actually like knows that the profession, especially the criminal Bar, is stuffed with bright young things working twelve hour days for far less than the average graduate starting salary. It is this group – not the established high fliers – who will really feel the devastating impact of Grayling’s funding cuts. These cuts - on which more later - will reduce income and workloads for young barristers, and could stunt the flow of able, ambitious young practitioners up through the ranks of the profession.

The minimum award for Pupillage – the compulsory one year training contract undertaken by newly qualified barristers and which, if his book "My brief Career" is anything to go by, gave Mount one of the worst years of his life - is £12,000, and many chambers don’t raise it much more than that. When you’re made a tenant, you’re essentially self employed, and junior barristers trying to get a practice started can work for weeks if not months before a cheque arrives in the post. And then it’s more likely to be £60 for a hugely stressful and exhausting day in court, rather than £600 for performing the menial, unskilled tasks Mount seems to think most barristers spend their time engaged with.

If you don’t believe me, wander around Temple any day of the week post 5 pm, and gently inquire of the harassed looking young men and women you see scurrying around with boxes of files how they feel about their remuneration. They will give the lie to Mount’s skewered portrayal.

When these fledgling barristers have plugged away for fifteen or twenty years they might, if they are very lucky, get close to earning the enormous sums that Mount talks of. And like anyone who has slogged away to get to the top of their profession, they deserve their financial rewards. It is this select group of barristers, right at the top of their profession, that Mount is actually writing about when he says:

“….[I]t is far from clear why QCs get vastly inflated fees from public funds to pay for Georgian terraced houses, Buckinghamshire country piles and children’s school fees. Barristers still benefit from the gilt-edged perks of the last great unreformed profession (I write as a former barrister). And now they fear that, for the first time in half a millennium, the rule of pampered, flattered lawyers may be coming to an end.”

These lawyers might be flattered by their clients, who may be deeply grateful for their help in traumatic periods of their lives, and esteemed by their peers, who will respect their achievements and know how hard they have worked to obtain their eminence.  And they might live a comfortable lifestyle (although Mount’s sniping remarks about what they choose to spend their money on are entirely irrelevant to his argument): but if either of these are true, they are so because of phenomenally hard work.

Mount is also sloppy in talking of "the Bar" as if it were one homogenous profession when in fact, depending on the area of law in which a barrister practices, the day-to-day work and the skills and abilities they require can differ. But even if that weren’t true, the following assertion is plain false:

"Most things barristers do for hundreds of pounds an hour could be done as well not just by solicitors but by any intelligent person. Many of the things high-street solicitors do, too — conveyancing, divorces and wills among them — are a doddle, especially in the age of the internet."

Mount favours dissolution of the distinction between solicitors and barristers, pointing to the fact that, after the 1990 Rights of Audience Act, solicitors can address judges in certain courts and perform their own advocacy.  And many solicitors are excellent advocates. But because barristers are specially trained advocates, and solicitors are not, for the most part there is a substantial discrepancy in their oral abilities.

During my time at Spear’s, I have spoken to many in the legal profession who say that solicitor-advocates – with some exceptions, of course – are just not as good in court as barristers. No doubt Mount would leap in here and say that of course millionaire QCs, with their hugely inflated sense of self-importance and ingrained God-complexes, would argue thus – but they have not all been QCs. Indeed, they are not all even barristers. Leading solicitors in different areas of law have told me that they would far rather instruct a barrister than a solicitor-advocate if a case goes to court.

This is not only because of barristers’ oral abilities. Even the best solicitor advocates will not be in court day in, day out, and so they will lack the nuanced understanding of how particular courts and particular judges work. This knowledge the barrister has, and it can be crucial in effective representation.

Mount destroys his own argument here in any case by talking of ‘high street solicitors’ rather than barristers. I would not be so arrogant as to claim detailed knowledge of what these professionals do on a day to day basis, but I’m sure it’s not a "doddle."

To claim that what all high street solicitors do, and what all barristers do, could be done by anyone with a brain, but with no legal – or perhaps even formal – education is absurd. Unless the circles in which Mount moves are populated with people who have just acquired, as if by some magical process of intellectual osmosis, a thorough grasp of the law, of advocacy techniques, of professional codes of conduct of client handling skills....The list of specialist knowledge – which takes years of work and study to acquire, and which clients pay for – goes on. 

By far the most distressing aspect of Mount’s diatribe, however, is his stance on Chris Grayling’s proposed cuts to public funding for the Bar. Introducing the Justice Secretary, Mount points out that Grayling is the ‘first non-lawyer to be made Lord Chancellor since the 17th century’. Grayling’s complete lack of legal background – he worked at the BBC and Channel 4 and as a management consultant before being elected to parliament – is worrying enough in itself, but Mount doesn’t seem concerned about that, possibly because he thinks it’s a job ‘any intelligent person’ could do. He introduces Grayling’s proposed legal aid cuts in such a way that you’d be forgiven for wondering what all the fuss is about:

‘[H]e has simply said he wants to make some savings in the legal aid bill. To the lawyers, unaccustomed to having their privileges and subsidies challenged by anyone, this means war.’

Because Mount is so caught up with slamming barristers in his piece, he cannot focus on the real reason these cuts are being so hotly fought against – not just by barristers, but by the general public too.

I would, of course, not wish to disagree that some, perhaps many lawyers, are in part angry because they will earn less money at the publicly funded Bar than they have been doing – which, to make the point again, will not be as much as Mount casually implies it is. But if so, what is wrong with that? Why shouldn’t they fight that? They’d better stop ‘wasting’ money on buying nice houses and privately educating their children.

The truth is, though, that they are fighting the cuts because they are committed to the justice system in this country, and they know – better than anyone – the effect those cuts will have on those seeking representation in court. Mount is breathtakingly flippant when he says Graying "just wants to make some savings." The extent of those savings? A proposed £220m to the legal aid bill.

In The Times on Thursday, Alastair MacDonald QC explained why barristers are opposing these cuts, and it is because they are worried that miscarriages of justice will abound. This, argues MacDonald, is an unavoidable consequence of clients not having access to suitable representation.

Of the changes Grayling proposes, the one of which everyone should be scared is the Price Competitive Tendering model. According to this, the Government will allocate chunks of the publicly available money to a certain number of law firms in each region of the country. When a defendant in that area requires legal representation, the job will go to the firm with the available funds, rather than the firm with expertise in the relevant area of law.

You really don’t need a law degree to see what a dreadful and hugely unfair model that is. These firms, paid whether they win or lose, will be under pressure to turn the case around as quickly as possible, and thus it will be in their interests to push for guilty pleas regardless of whether that is right for the defendant or not. And defendants – normal people, people who have made a mistake and need a voice in court – will be assigned to the first available barrister, whether he or she practices the relevant area of law or not.

But far, far worse for defendants is the fact that, if Grayling’s PCT model is pushed through, prosecuting barristers will be picked from a specialist group with expertise in the relevant area of law. So if you find yourself in court, you will not be able to pick your barrister, and might end up with a relatively inexperienced advocate unused to practicing the law you need him or her to know thoroughly, instinctively. But you can be sure that the barrister on the other side will be an expert, and will put the case against you as well as it can be put. Is that fair?

How anyone  - whether a lawyer or not – can possibly think that is anything other than deeply worrying, and to be opposed as vigorously as possible in the interests of justice, is staggering. But Mount either doesn’t care, or is too mired in his very personal loathing of barristers to notice.

This article also appeared in Spear's magazine.

Photograph: Getty Images

Mark Nayler is a senior researcher at Spear's magazine.

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Who "speaks for England" - and for that matter, what is "England"?

The Hollywood producer Sam Gold­wyn once demanded, “Let’s have some new clichés.” The Daily Mail, however, is always happiest with the old ones.

The Hollywood producer Sam Gold­wyn once demanded, “Let’s have some new clichés.” The Daily Mail, however, is always happiest with the old ones. It trotted out Leo Amery’s House of Commons call from September 1939, “Speak for England”, for the headline on a deranged leader that filled a picture-free front page on David Cameron’s “deal” to keep Britain in the EU.

Demands that somebody or other speak for England have followed thick and fast ever since Amery addressed his call to Labour’s Arthur Greenwood when Neville Chamberlain was still dithering over war with Hitler. Tory MPs shouted, “Speak for England!” when Michael Foot, the then Labour leader, rose in the Commons in 1982 after Argentina’s invasion of the Falklands. The Mail columnist Andrew Alexander called on Clare Short to “speak for England” over the Iraq War in 2003. “Can [Ed] Miliband speak for England?” Anthony Barnett asked in this very magazine in 2013. (Judging by the 2015 election result, one would say not.) “I speak for England,” claimed John Redwood last year. “Labour must speak for England,” countered Frank Field soon afterwards.

The Mail’s invocation of Amery was misconceived for two reasons. First, Amery wanted us to wage war in Europe in support of Hitler’s victims in Poland and elsewhere and in alliance with France, not to isolate ourselves from the continent. Second, “speak for England” in recent years has been used in support of “English votes for English laws”, following proposals for further devolution to Scotland. As the Mail was among the most adamant in demanding that Scots keep their noses out of English affairs, it’s a bit rich of it now to state “of course, by ‘England’. . . we mean the whole of the United Kingdom”.

 

EU immemorial

The Mail is also wrong in arguing that “we are at a crossroads in our island history”. The suggestion that the choice is between “submitting to a statist, unelected bureaucracy in Brussels” and reclaiming our ancient island liberties is pure nonsense. In the long run, withdrawing from the EU will make little difference. Levels of immigration will be determined, as they always have been, mainly by employers’ demands for labour and the difficulties of policing the borders of a country that has become a leading international transport hub. The terms on which we continue to trade with EU members will be determined largely by unelected bureaucrats in Brussels after discussions with unelected bureaucrats in London.

The British are bored by the EU and the interminable Westminster arguments. If voters support Brexit, it will probably be because they then expect to hear no more on the subject. They will be sadly mistaken. The withdrawal negotiations will take years, with the Farages and Duncan Smiths still foaming at the mouth, Cameron still claiming phoney victories and Angela Merkel, François Hollande and the dreaded Jean-Claude Juncker playing a bigger part in our lives than ever.

 

An empty cabinet

Meanwhile, one wonders what has become of Jeremy Corbyn or, indeed, the rest of the shadow cabinet. The Mail’s “speak for England” leader excoriated him for not mentioning “the Number One subject of the hour” at PM’s Questions but instead asking about a shortage of therapeutic radiographers in the NHS. In fact, the NHS’s problems – almost wholly caused by Tory “reforms” and spending cuts – would concern more people than does our future in the EU. But radiographers are hardly headline news, and Corbyn and his team seem unable to get anything into the nation’s “any other business”, never mind to the top of its agenda.

Public services deteriorate by the day, George Osborne’s fiscal plans look increasingly awry, and attempts to wring tax receipts out of big corporations appear hopelessly inadequate. Yet since Christmas I have hardly seen a shadow minister featured in the papers or spotted one on TV, except to say something about Trident, another subject that most voters don’t care about.

 

Incurable prose

According to the Guardian’s admirable but (let’s be honest) rather tedious series celeb­rating the NHS, a US health-care firm has advised investors that “privatisation of the UK marketplace . . . should create organic and de novo opportunities”. I have no idea what this means, though it sounds ominous. But I am quite certain I don’t want my local hospital or GP practice run by people who write prose like that.

 

Fashionable Foxes

My home-town football team, Leicester City, are normally so unfashionable that they’re not even fashionable in Leicester, where the smart set mostly watch the rugby union team Leicester Tigers. Even when they installed themselves near the top of the Premier League before Christmas, newspapers scarcely noticed them.

Now, with the Foxes five points clear at the top and 7-4 favourites for their first title, that mistake is corrected and the sports pages are running out of superlatives, a comparison with Barcelona being the most improbable. Even I, not a football enthusiast, have watched a few matches. If more football were played as Leicester play it – moving at speed towards their opponents’ goal rather than aimlessly weaving pretty patterns in midfield – I would watch the game more.

Nevertheless, I recall 1963, when Leicester headed the old First Division with five games to play. They picked up only one more point and finished fourth, nine points adrift of the league winners, Everton.

 

Gum unstuck

No, I don’t chew toothpaste to stop me smoking, as the last week’s column strangely suggested. I chew Nicorette gum, a reference written at some stage but somehow lost (probably by me) before it reached print.

Editor: The chief sub apologises for this mistake, which was hers

Peter Wilby was editor of the Independent on Sunday from 1995 to 1996 and of the New Statesman from 1998 to 2005. He writes the weekly First Thoughts column for the NS.

This article first appeared in the 11 February 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The legacy of Europe's worst battle