The government is trying to reshape our justice system. Photo: Flickr/Bill Tyne
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Sabotaging judicial review is one of this government's most vicious acts

Removing the right for the individual to seek legal remedy for unlawful behaviour of the state – one of the coalition’s worst moments?

The coalition government is guilty of many crimes since its creation in 2010. But by steamrollering through changes to judicial review, they are seeking to insulate themselves from challenge, and restrict the ability of the British people to hold to account future governments that break the law.  

Ministers are often defendants to applications for judicial review, precisely why they do not like it. But such applications are not brought lightly, and, crucially, have to pass an initial test of securing the court’s permission to proceed to a hearing. Very often the mere lodging of an application will produce a rethink by the decision making body leading to the correction of any flaw in the process. Equally, other interested parties can seek the court’s permission to intervene in the case to offer expert opinion in support of one or other of the parties. Many cases are resolved without a full hearing. 

But this isn’t good enough for the present government, now engaged in seeking to reverse the substantial defeats it sustained in three votes in the House of Lords on amendments which sought to preserve judicial discretion in determining applications on a range of issues.

The fettering of judicial discretion has been a recurring feature of the government’s numerous attempts to reshape our justice system, a curious way of building up to the celebrations of the 800th anniversary of Magna Carta next year. It proved unacceptable to peers across the chamber, pitifully few of whom spoke in support of the government.

The proposals have attracted trenchant criticism from, among other eminent lawyers, the President of the Supreme Court, Lord Neuberger, the Master of the Rolls, Lord Dyson, the former Lord Chief Justice, Lord Woolf, and the Joint Committee on Human Rights, the Constitution Committee and the Delegated Powers and Regulatory Reform Committee. Characteristically, the Lord Chancellor is determined to reverse the decision of the Lords, albeit with some minor unsatisfactory changes in relation to interveners.

The House of Lords is traditionally, and reasonably, reluctant to challenge the elected chamber, but where the rights of the citizen are concerned, and where the government can be seen to legislate to immunise itself against legal challenge, there is an overwhelming case for it to do so. 

Given the political arithmetic of the second chamber, much will depend on the Liberal Democrats, who have long, and with some justification, proclaimed themselves to be supporters of civil liberties and accountable government. Several spoke and voted in favour of the amendments passed by the Lords.

It falls to them and their colleagues in the House of Commons to redeem their party’s reputation by joining crossbench and Labour peers, and hopefully some Conservatives, in rejecting the government’s amendments to the Bill, which, for the record was never part of the coalition agreement.

Shadow justice minister Andy Slaughter MP and Labour justice spokesperson in the Lords Jeremy Beecham

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.