How the UK Border Agency nearly blew Robin Hood Airport "sky high"

A calamity at the "Twitter Joke Trial" airport of which you will not have heard

The security managers of Robin Hood Airport are well known for their zeal in searching Twitter while off-duty for tweets containing supposed "bomb threats" which are nothing of the kind

But while those responsible with the safety of the public and of staff at this South Yorkshire airport were concerning themselves in January 2010 with the now infamous tweet of Paul Chambers, a infinitely more dangerous incident had recently occurred, about which there appears to have been no publicity until yesterday.

 

A dangerous load

On 10 November 2009 an aircraft carrying anti-tank ammunition landed at the airport. It appears the manager of the UK Border Agency (UKBA) based at the airport decided that his staff were to carry out checks on the packed ammunition. It was evident that this was a hazard, but the manager proceeded with the idea and even directed the plane to a separate part of the airport for the exercise to take place.

The pilot warned the manager that the crates of ammunition were explosive. The pilot added that the crates should not be examined by any unqualified staff. But the warnings were ignored. The UKBA manager had determined that unqualified staff were going to unpack live ammunition from its casing. (One presumes all this was also to be done on a concrete floor and in the near proximity of a fuelled aircraft.)

The UKBA staff did as they were told and opened the five crates, each of which contained five rounds of anti-tank ammunition.  The staff then partially removed some explosive devices from protective packaging. We are told that this entailed the staff removing three separate layers of packaging, including opening the protective tubing and exposing live rounds of the anti-tank ammunition.

It was about a stupid decision as such a manager could make, and a decision putting the lives of staff and many others at genuine risk.

 

A matter of Health and Safety

When this incident came to the notice of the Health and Safety Executive (HSE), there was an immediate investigation. It was clear that there had been a breach of Sections 2 and 3 of the Health and Safety at Work etc Act 1974

As the HSE later stated:

The HSE investigation found that UKBA had failed to carry out a suitable risk assessment to enable them to complete the checks safely. Had they done so, they would have recognised several problems.

There was a significant risk that the ammunition could detonate if it was dropped which could have detonated the whole cargo. As a result, members of the public, airport workers and nearby aircraft were all put at risk on that day.

This was an understatement.  Although ammunition is (of course) not designed to explode easily, unpacking such materials is rightly the job of trained professionals.

In normal circumstances, there would have then been a prosecution of UKBA for its fundamental breach of health and safety law.

 

Censure, not prosecution

But UKBA was not to be prosecuted. This is because, as a Crown body, it cannot be prosecuted. This constitutional oddity means that UKBA - and other such bodies - escape the processes of the criminal justice system even when there has been a clear breach of the legal obligations which nonetheless still apply to them.

So instead of a public prosecution, the HSE had to follow a closed process called "Crown Censure". This is, in effect, a sequence of meetings where culpability is discussed and eventually determined. The meetings are not public, and the minutes of the meetings are not provided to the public. (Indeed, the HSE press officer laughed down the phone when I asked if the papers could be made available.)

Eventually, UKBA "accepted" the censure. The HSE said:

Our investigation into the details of the cargo verification by UKBA staff at Robin Hood Doncaster Sheffield airport found that the failings by the Agency were serious enough to warrant this course of action.

The evidence brought to light by the HSE investigation would be sufficient to provide a realistic prospect of conviction of UKBA in civilian courts. This Crown Censure is the maximum enforcement action that HSE can take and should serve to illustrate how seriously we take the failings we identified."

We are then told:

Mr Paul Darling, Corporate Director, Resources and Organisational Development, of the UK Border Agency attended the Crown Censure meeting on 19 December 2012 at the HSE premises in Sheffield and accepted the findings on behalf of UKBA.

But this cannot be a satisfactory process for matters of public safety. A number of people were put at risk that day by the sheer irresponsibility of a UKBA manager.

 

Tweets and ammunition and "Security Theatre"

UKBA has now had two years and a bit to get its act together after almost blowing a good part of Robin Hood Airport sky high. A press statement put out today said:

We deeply regret this incident. As acknowledged by the Health and Safety Executive, we have already made significant changes to the way we manage health and safety to avoid a similar incident occurring in the future.

UKBA, however, did not tell what these "significant changes" were. 

The contrast of superficial and and sensible approaches to safety has been called by the great Bruce Schneier as "Security Theatre". In airports and elsewhere, a lot is done just for show, and the elaborate gestures do little or nothing to actually achieve improved security. 

It would seem Robin Hood Airport is a case study of such a misconceived policy. In the space of a few months between November 2009 and January 2010, one security manager there almost caused a disaster while another concentrated on a harmless jokey tweet. 

And only the latter led to the criminal process even being engaged.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and was defence solicitor in the "Twitter Joke Trial" appeal at the High Court

 

Robin Hood Airport, safe from menacing tweets at least. Photograph: B Doon

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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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

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