On parliamentary sovereignty

111 Members of Parliament vote to take matters out of their own hands.

Yesterday, 111 Members of Parliament voted against parliamentary sovereignty. In speech after speech, and in the voting lobby afterwards, these MPs -- including 80 so-called Conservatives -- sent the clear signal that they thought Parliament was not competent to legislate on an important matter and so it should be left to others, by means of a referendum.

The foregoing paragraph is not altogether facetious. There is a great deal of muddled thinking about "parliamentary sovereignty" and part of this comes from it usually not being clear what this phrase actually means.

To begin with, the concept of sovereignty does not cover all the activities of Parliament. Resolutions of either House have no "sovereign" effect outside of the Palace of Westminster. Statutory Instruments passed by both Houses can be and sometimes are quashed by the Courts. Parliamentary debates and select committee reports are also not, in any meaningful way, "sovereign".

In fact the "sovereignty" goes to one specific activity of Parliament: the passing of primary legislation as "Acts of Parliament". But in strict constitutionalist terms, the Acts have this effect not because Parliament has passed a Bill but because they have been signed on behalf of the Crown (though not personally by the Queen).

And even then, these Acts are not always "sovereign". The Courts -- though rarely -- can disapply primary legislation when it conflicts with other legislation, perhaps most notably the Merchant Shipping Act 1988 which conflicted with the European Communities Act 1972. Some Scottish lawyers (including judges) have plausibly contended that the terms of the Act of Union 1707 mean that the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty is not part of Scottish law. Moreover, one English Court of Appeal judge, Sir John Laws, has opined that there are fundamental common law rights which cannot be infringed even by primary legislation; 400 years ago another judge, Sir Edward Coke, said the same thing.

The correct position is subtle. As the recently retired Court of Appeal judge Sir Stephen Sedley points out in his excellent collection of essays (reviewed here), sovereignty actually lies in the combination of the "Crown in Parliament" and the "Crown in the Courts". Primary legislation only has the effect of "sovereignty" to the extent to which that is allowed by the Courts. Some lawyers would go so far to say that, in technical terms, "sovereignty of parliament" is merely a rule of statutory interpretation.

One does not have to go this far to see that "sovereignty of parliament" is a little more complicated than certain MPs seem to realise. Of course, one does not expect a certain type of MP to understand this: after all, those who call for the Human Rights Act 1998 to be repealed clearly do not grasp that this would simply mean an enlarged role for the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg.

If MPs genuinely do not want the United Kingdom to subject to European Union law, then it is open to them to repeal the European Communities Act 1972 and related legislation. The solution to their apparent problem is entirely in their own hands. Without the 1972 Act, the Courts will have no legal basis to implement EU law. But the MPs won't do that, of course. It would mean taking parliamentary sovereignty seriously.

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman. He also writes the Jack of Kent blog and for The Lawyer.

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.)

Tracey Thorn. CRedit: Getty
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“Not technically beautiful, she has an engaging laugh”: 35 years of being described by men

For women in music, being described most of the time by men is just par for the course.

I am sure you all saw the Twitter challenge that took off the other day – a request to women to “describe yourself like a male author would”, started by the writer Whitney Reynolds. There were thousands of hilarious replies, with women imagining how a bad male author would describe them. I thought about posting an example, but then realised, I didn’t have to imagine this. I’ve been being described by male journalists for more than 35 years.

Katy Waldman in the New Yorker wrote about the challenge, and how it highlighted clichés in men’s writing: “…prose that takes conspicuous notice of a female character’s physical imperfections. This is done with an aura of self-satisfaction, as if the protagonist deserves credit simply for bestowing his descriptive prowess upon a person of less than conventional loveliness.”

And oh boy, that hit home. Yes, I thought, that is precisely how I’ve been described, too many times to recall, so many times that I’ve actually sort of stopped noticing. The following aren’t direct quotes, but near enough.

“Not conventionally pretty, Thorn nevertheless somehow manages to be curiously attractive.” “Her face may not be technically beautiful but she has an engaging laugh.” “Her intelligence shines through the quirky features.” Often what’s irritating isn’t the hint of an insult, but just being wide of the mark. “She isn’t wearing any make-up” (oh my god, of course she is). “She’s wearing some kind of shapeless shift” (it’s Comme des Garçons FFS).

I’m not trying to arouse sympathy. I’m much thicker-skinned than you may imagine, hence surviving in this business for so long. But the point is, for women in music, being described most of the time by men is just par for the course.

A few weeks ago, when I was in Brussels and Paris doing interviews, I was taken aback all over again by the absence of female journalists interviewing me about my album – an album that is being described everywhere as “nine feminist bangers”. As the 14th man walked through the door, my heart slightly sank. I feel like a bore banging on about this sometimes, but it astonishes me that certain aspects of this business remain so male-dominated.

Even the journalists sometimes have the good grace to notice the anomaly. One youngish man, (though not that young) told me I was only the third woman he had ever interviewed, which took my breath away. I look at my playlists of favourite tracks over the last year or so, and they are utterly dominated by SZA, Angel Olsen, Lorde, St Vincent, Mabel, Shura, Warpaint, Savages, Solange, Kate Tempest, Tove Lo, Susanne Sundfør, Janelle Monáe, Jessie Ware and Haim, so there certainly isn’t any shortage of great women. I’ve been asked to speak at a music event, and when I was sent the possible line-up I couldn’t help noticing that over three days there were 56 men and seven women speaking. The final bill might be an improvement on that, but still. Any number of music festivals still operate with this kind of mad imbalance.

Is it down to the organisers not asking? Or, in the case of this kind of discussion event, women often feeling they don’t “know” enough? It’s a vicious circle, the way that men and their music can be so intimidating. The more you’re always in the minority, the more you feel like you don’t belong. Record shops seemed that way to me when I was a teen, places where guys hung out and looked at you like you didn’t know your Pink Floyd from your Pink Flag.

I also have to watch songs of mine being described by male writers, and sometimes misinterpreted. I’ve got one called “Guitar” on my new record. There’s a boy in the lyrics, but he’s incidental – it’s a love song to my first Les Paul copy. That fact has sailed over the heads of a couple of male reviewers who’ve seen it as a song all about a boy.

That’s the trouble, isn’t it? You miss things when you leave women out, or view female characters through the prism of their attractiveness, or when you take for granted that you’re at the centre of every story, every lyric. I bet you think this piece is about you. 

Tracey Thorn is a musician and writer, best known as one half of Everything but the Girl. She writes the fortnightly “Off the Record” column for the New Statesman. Her latest book is Naked at the Albert Hall.

This article first appeared in the 18 April 2018 issue of the New Statesman, Enoch Powell’s revenge