The European Court of Human Rights. Photo: Mathieu Nivelles/Flickr
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David Cameron versus the human rights court: a populist hit

The Tories are preparing to take on the European Court of Human Rights, in what could be their most significant populist hit before the next election.

It began with cabinet departures. Former Attorney General Dominic Grieve and veteran Conservative frontbencher Ken Clarke left the government during this week’s reshuffle. It has been described as the cull of the Tory left – but more specifically with these exits, the PM has evicted two influential, weighty figures at the cabinet table who supported Britain’s EU membership, and it being signed up to the European Convention on Human Rights.

Now he’s rid of the euro-moderates, David Cameron seems to have cleared his way to all-out war on a European institution to which Britain is signed up aside from the EU: the European Convention on Human Rights. The BBC is reporting this morning that his party is drawing up plans for a new law designed to limit the power of the European Court of Human Rights and to make parliament the ultimate legal arbiter over human rights matters.

Clarke and Grieve were sceptical about tampering with Britain’s relationship with the human rights court. Clarke called Theresa May’s conference speech in 2011 – in which she claimed a Bolivian man was allowed to stay in the UK because of his cat ­– “laughable and child-like”. He said yesterday on the Today programme that it was “unthinkable” for us to leave the European Convention on Human Rights, labelling it the “bedrock” of the rule of law, individual liberty and justice for all. Grieve also was dubious about Cameron’s plans, reportedly (from the BBC’s Nick Robinson this morning) warning his colleagues that the plan, and its alternative – a British Bill of Rights – would be a “legal car-crash”, albeit one “with a built-in time delay”.

But senior ministers who have retained their positions, such as Home Secretary Theresa May and the Justice Secretary Chris Grayling, have long been critical of the human rights court, battling with the court on a number of cases including prisoners’ right to vote, deporting terrorist suspects, and deporting foreign criminals and racists. The right to a family life, ruled by the judges in Strasbourg, is often the stumbling block for such cases.

A group of Conservative lawyers recently presented the PM with proposals for new legislation that would assert parliament’s power over the power of the human rights court’s judges. Their plan is not to leave altogether, but to be able to disregard the court’s rulings. A sort of cherry-picking that Grieve, while he was still in his job, warned would create a “degree of anarchy”.

It’s clear why this is an attractive plan for Cameron. As the Guardian points out, it will allow him to hit immigration, crime and the tyranny of Europe all in one go – and if he can deploy more individual stories, like May’s cat anecdote (although it was inaccurate), he can use his plan to capture the imagination of an electorate already primed with horror stories about immigration.

However, though it may be a populist policy, it could ultimately do little for parliament’s so-called “sovereignty”. I interviewed the criminal lawyer Michael Mansfield QC last summer, and he pointed out that recent high-profile cases, such as that of attempting to deport radical cleric Abu Qatada, would be just as difficult without the European Convention.

He told me:

English Common Law, on which the Convention was based, actually itself embraces the same rights. For example, there would have been the same difficulty with Abu Qatada without the European Convention; it has everything to do with English law itself saying to the government ‘we are not happy that any process has the risk of being tainted by tortured evidence’. It’s an English principle. We’re not dealing here with trivial rights, we’re dealing with fundamental situations. Is there an English right to life that is different to everybody else’s?

Anoosh Chakelian is deputy web editor at the New Statesman.

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era