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This is a book about the arguments that lawyers make in support of their clients and judges make in the course of their opinions. That is not the whole of the law, which extends in every direction and takes many different forms. The pattern of reasoning of those who are engaged elsewhere in the law, in the legislative process or in the regulatory or administrative process, is different. But adjudication, in which lawyers' arguments and judicial opinions hold sway, is typically the place where the law is brought to bear concretely and, to use a current expression, “the rubber hits the road.” No effort to understand and explain the law or the legal process can succeed unless the arguments of lawyers and judges are understood. Those arguments, furthermore, are what people have in mind when they speak about legal reasoning. It is widely believed that legal reasoning is somehow special, not just in its subject matter but in its very form. In a law school class, a professor, intending high praise, may say to a student, “Now you are thinking like a lawyer,” as if a legal education equips a person to think in a way unknown to others. And, indeed, a great deal has been written about the nature of legal arguments. Yet it would be odd if legal reasoning were somehow different from reasoning about other subjects. Doctors and engineers also have their special expertise.
The problem of keeping the law abreast of changing circumstances afflicts every system in every age. A brief history of the response to the problem in this country was given by Sir Michael Kerr, former Chairman of the Law Commission, in a lecture in 1980:
Lord Justice Kerr, ‘Law Reform in Changing Times’, 96 Law Quarterly Review, 1980, pp. 515, 517–18
SOME OF THE LANDMARKS
As long ago as 1593 (and one could start earlier) Francis Bacon introduced a project in Parliament for reducing the volume of statutes, which were ‘so many in number that neither the common people can practise [sic] them nor the lawyers sufficiently understand them.’ This task was committed to all the lawyers in the House of Commons, but nothing came of it. In 1607 James I invited Parliament to scrape the rust off the laws so that they ‘might be cleared and made known to the subjects.’ The idea was to reconcile conflicting decisions, discard obsolete material and prepare an authoritative restatement of the law. In his ‘Proposition touching the Amendment of the Law’ in 1616, Bacon himself, by then Lord Chancellor, again called for digests of the common law and statute laws with ‘law commissioners’ to revise them and keep them up to date, but again nothing was done.…
Brougham's great speech on law reform on 7 February 1828, no doubt deserves to be considered as the greatest single landmark in our non-history of systematic law reform before 1965. The speech lasted 6 hours and 3 minutes, and he is reported to have sustained himself by consuming a hatful of oranges, ‘which were all the refreshment then tolerated by the custom of the House. […]
One of the essential elements in a system based on precedent is some tolerably efficient method for making the precedents available to those wishing to discover the law. It is through law reporting that the common law is available to the profession and anyone else wishing to know the law. An unreported decision is technically of precisely the same authority as one that is reported, but until the advent of computerised systems decisions that were unreported were more or less inaccessible to all but scholars. (Now they are accessible online in utmost profusion.)
Law reporting in England goes back to the earliest days of the system.
The history of law reporting
There have been five distinct periods in the history of law reporting. The first, lasting for some two hundred and fifty years from 1282 to 1537, was the period of the Year Books. They are not law reports in the full modern sense, since they appear to have been designed more as guides to pleadings and procedure for advocates than as accounts of the decisions of the courts. They were written originally in Norman French and later in law French – a mixture of Norman French, English and Latin. In modern times they have been published in two editions – the Rolls Series (RS) and the Selden Society Series (SS). They are mainly of historical and antiquarian interest. Practitioners virtually never have occasion to consult or cite the Year Books.
Precedents are the raw material from which lawyers and judges distil rules of law. Anyone wishing to state the law on a matter not governed by statute – whether he be a judge, a practitioner, an academic or a student – must look at the decided cases. But how does he use the raw material?
The first principle is that anything relevant may be grist to the mill. If there is a clear decision of the House of Lords which is precisely in point, one need usually search no further. If in that case all five Law Lords agreed that the rule of law is X, then for all practical purposes one may assume that it is X. One may still argue that Y would be a better rule and, if one is advising a client prepared to litigate all the way up to the House of Lords, one may consider with him the practical prospects of persuading the Lords to change the rule. But, subject to that rather remote possibility, lawyers are likely to agree that the rule on that point is X.
At the opposite extreme, search for relevant precedents may reveal nothing more than a decision on the point by a county court judge reported briefly only in the Solicitors' Journal, and a remark to the same effect made in the course of giving judgment on a related point in a decision of the High Court of Australia.
The two sources of law so far discussed – legislation and judicial decisions – dominate the field of law-making within the United Kingdom system. But there are other sources of law for the United Kingdom of which by far the most important is European Union (previously European Community) law. The chapter deals also with textbooks and custom as sources of law and with various forms of quasi-legislation.
European Union Law
European Community law became part of the United Kingdom system as from 1 January 1973 the day on which the United Kingdom became a member of the European Communities. On the international plane this was by virtue of joining the Treaty of Paris of 1951 establishing the European Coal and Steel Community and the two Treaties of Rome of 1957 establishing Euratom and the European Economic Community (EEC).
Since 1957 the system has been in a state of evolution with especially significant developments being the Single European Act of 1986, the Treaty of Maastricht 1992 (known as the Treaty of the European Union or TEU), the Treaty of Amsterdam of 1997 which, inter alia, renumbered the Treaty provisions, and the Treaty of Nice of 2001. Under the Treaty of Maastricht the EEC was renamed the European Community (EC) and the geographical unit formed by the then fifteen Member States became the European Union (EU).
It is difficult to conceive of a legal system in which precedent plays no part at all. One of the fundamental characteristics of law is the objective that like cases should be treated alike. It is therefore natural that other things being equal one court should follow the decision of another where the facts appear to be similar. But in the common law systems precedents have a greater potency than simply as models for imitation. The rules require that in certain circumstances a decision be followed whether the second court approves of the precedent or not. Thus in Re Schweppes Ltd's Agreement [1965] 1 All ER 195, the Court of Appeal, with Willmer LJ dissenting, ordered discovery of documents in a case involving restrictive trade practices. On the same day the same three judges gave judgment in a second case involving the same point – Re Automatic Telephone and Electric Co. Ltd's Agreement [1965] 1 All ER 206. Judgment in the second case was delivered by Lord Justice Willmer who simply said: ‘If the matter were res integra, I should have been disposed to dismiss the appeal in this case for the same reasons as those which I gave in my judgment in the previous case. It seems to me, however, that I am now bound by the decision of the majority in the previous case. In these circumstances, I have no alternative but to concur in saying that the appeal in the present case should be allowed.’
Interpretation is a necessary aspect of communication
Statutory interpretation is a particular form of a general problem – the understanding of meaning or, more broadly still, communication. Like M. Jourdain in Molière's Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme, who did not know that he was talking prose, most people are probably unaware of the extent to which the use of language necessarily involves interpretation. Even the simplest statement usually relies on an understanding of habits, knowledge, values and purposes shared between the author and the recipient of the communication. The point was made in a homely example over a hundred years ago.
Suppose a housekeeper says to a domestic: ‘fetch some soup-meat’ accompanying the act with giving some money to the latter; he will be unable to execute the order without interpretation, however easy and, consequently, rapid the performance of the process may be. Common sense and good faith tell the domestic, that the housekeeper's meaning was this: 1. He should go immediately, or as soon as his other occupations are finished; or, if he be directed to do so in the evening, that he should go the next day at the usual hour; 2. that the money handed him by the housekeeper is intended to pay for the meat thus ordered, and not as a present to him; 3. that he should buy such meat and of such parts of the animal, as, to his knowledge, has commonly been used in the house he stays at, for making soup; 4. that he buy the best meat he can obtain, for a fair price; 5. […]
There are no major changes since the last edition but some 60 pages of new material have been added. A high proportion of the new material brings the text up to date. But there are a considerable number of topics that cover entirely new or significantly strengthened material. They include: the constitutional changes involving the abolition of the Lord Chancellor; the proposed move of the House of Lords to a Supreme Court and the establishment of a Judicial Appointments Commission; the composition of the House of Lords; the work of the Joint Human Rights Committee of the Lords and Commons; devolution; parliamentary reform including programming and the carry-over of legislation; the parliamentary scrutiny of delegated legislation; the new Court of Appeal practice of delivering composite judgments; developments regarding intervention in litigation by third parties; and the new EU constitution agreed in June 2004. Important new empirical research, especially by Professor Edward Page informs the revision and strengthening of both Chapter 1 and 2.
One of the most important developments since the last edition is the accessibility of a wealth of material (case law, legislation, statutory instruments, parliamentary debates, official committee and governmental reports) online. Web references are given throughout and the index collects references to the website addresses given in the book.
The chief purpose of this book is to improve the understanding of the law-making process. For many years I have taught the English Legal System course at the London School of Economics and an equivalent course taken by non-law students. Experience has suggested to me that there is a great gap in the existing literature which this book attempts to fill. It is something between a book of cases and materials, on the one hand, and a textbook on the other. It presents a large number of original texts from a variety of sources – cases, official reports, articles, books, speeches and surveys. It also, however, contains a good deal of the author's own reflections on the subject-matter. The book deals only with the official forms of law-making on a national scale and therefore says nothing about ‘private’ law-making by lawyers for their clients or by organisations such as trade unions, clubs or companies for their members or shareholders. The book is intended as a companion to the author's Cases and Materials on the English Legal System [9th edn, 2004]. There is no overlap between the two books. They are intended to complement each other and together to provide the basic reading required for a university or equivalent course on the legal system. It is hoped that the book will also be of value to anyone concerned to understand how the law-making process actually operates.
A great deal has been written about the judicial role and no attempt can be made here to cover all aspects of this topic. The issues addressed are only some of those that affect the law-making process but they are perhaps some of the most important. The first is what role is played by the judge himself in the process.
The personal element in judicial law-making
The first extract is from the writings of one of Britain's most distinguished post-war judges.
Lord Radcliffe, Not in Feather Beds (1968), pp. 212–16
More and more I am impressed by the inescapable personal element in the judicial decision. We are fond of saying, approvingly, that a judge should be objective, but is it perhaps the wrong metaphor, an idea borrowed, like so much else that obscures our thinking on general topics, from an analogy between the physical sciences and things incommensurable with them? Say indeed that a judge must be fair, or that he must be impartial: that is essential. He must strip himself of all prejudices, certainly; except, I ought to add, those prejudices which on consideration he is prepared to stand by as his sincere convictions. You see how quickly, just because he is not a machine, one begins to tie oneself in words and qualifications of words. He has no right to be biased; but then no human mind is constructed with perfect balance. He must give an honest hearing to all points of view and to arguments that do not even introduce themselves to him as plausible; but it is unreal to think of a judge of experience as if he were a mere hearing aid. […]
The sequence of events in the legislative process from the introduction of a bill to Royal Assent has been described by a senior member of the office of Clerk to the House of Commons, most generously written for the second edition of this book in 1985. (Editorial footnotes introduce more recent developments but comparison of this description against the lengthy Guide to Legislative Procedures issued by the Cabinet Office for the benefit of officials shows that nothing of substance has changed.)
A bill must be given ‘three readings’ in each House before it can be submitted for the Royal Assent. The First Reading is purely formal when the Clerk of the House reads the title from a dummy bill and a day is named for Second Reading. For government bills, the day named is ‘tomorrow’. Although the bill will appear amongst the remaining orders of the day for the next sitting, the government will not move the Second Reading until a later date, which is announced in advance in the weekly business statement and which will be a sufficient time after presentation to give members an opportunity to consider the text.
The debate on Second Reading is the main consideration of the general principles of a bill, at the end of which a vote (though it need not) be taken on the bill as a whole. Although a bill can be lost at many stages in its career, the Second Reading is undoubtedly the most important, and the vast majority of bills which get a Second Reading and proceed into committee also get on to the statute book. […]
There are many categories of action to which specific acts belong only if performed with some particular intention. Our commonsense concepts of types of action are sensitive to intent—think of the difference between lying and telling an untruth, for instance—but the law is replete with clear and unambiguous examples. Assault with intent to kill and possession of an illegal drug with intent to distribute are both much more serious crimes than mere assault and mere possession. A person is guilty of a crime of attempt—attempted murder, for instance, or attempted rape—only if that person had the intention to perform a crime. Under the federal carjacking law, an act of hijacking an automobile counts as carjacking only if performed with the intention to kill or inflict serious bodily harm on the driver of the car. In all of these cases, the question of whether or not a particular defendant had the precise intention necessary for the crime can make a huge difference, often a difference of years in prison, but sometimes literally a difference of life or death; sometimes whether the crime is one for which the death penalty can be given turns solely on the question of whether or not the actor had the relevant intention.