Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Administrative Law
Ninth Edition
2021
Administrative Law
Ninth Edition
Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon CR0 4YY
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© 2021 Paul Craig
Dedication
The last edition of this book appeared in 2016 and there have been significant
developments in the intervening years. There has, as in any such period, been
significant case law, legislation and academic commentary. The chapters of the
book have been updated accordingly and there has been much re-writing to take
account of these developments.
There has also been more far-reaching change that has impacted on the
subject matter. Brexit has meant that we are no longer in the EU. The
implications of this dealt are covered by the text. Thus, the separate chapter on
the EU has been removed, but there have been additions to particular chapters to
explain the continuing relevance of EU law in limited areas, and the impact of
the European Union (Withdrawal) Act 2018.
There have also been two other more general changes to the book. Chapter 2
dealing with the history of Administrative law has been re-written to reflect
further work and thinking that I have done in this area. There is also a new
Chapter 10, entitled “Automated Decision-Making”. This reflects the growing
importance of this issue for all bodies of law, including Administrative law. It
has been axiomatic until recently that administrative decisions, rules and the like
were made by people, whether ministers, civil servants or agencies. Recent years
have, however, seen the rapid growth of more automated forms of decision-
making, using algorithms and the like. The chapter charts this terrain and
considers its implications for Administrative law, including its impact on the
doctrines of judicial review.
There are also ongoing issues that may affect the subject matter of this book
in the future. The government established two independent reviews, to consider
respectively certain aspects of judicial review and the Human Rights Act 1998.
The former has been concluded, but the report has not been published at the time
of writing; the latter will report in June/July 2021. It remains to be seen what
action the government takes based on these reports, and it is in any event not
bound by the conclusions reached in these studies. There are also issues being
discussed that may affect the Supreme Court.
I would like to thank Nicola Thurlow, Tejal Parmar and all those at Sweet &
Maxwell who have provided great support in the production process with the
book. I would also like to thank Anita for her help and understanding when work
on the book impinged on family time.
Paul Craig
Acknowledgments
• Beatson, Sir Jack, “Common Law, Statutes and Constitutional Law” [2006]
Statute Law Review 1 (Oxford University Press Journals). Reproduced with
permission of the Licensor through PLSclear.
• Drewry, G. and Butcher, T., The Civil Service Today (John Wiley & Sons,
1991).
• HMSO: Contains public sector information licensed under the Open
Government Licence v3.0 and Parliamentary information licensed under the
Open Parliament Licence v3.0.
• Leyland, P. and Woods, T. (eds), Administrative Law Facing the Future:
Old Constraints and New Horizons (London: Blackstone, 1997).
Reproduced with permission of the Licensor through PLSclear.
• Norton, P., “The Organisation of Parliamentary Parties”, in Walkland, S.A.
(ed.), The House of Commons in the Twentieth Century (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1979). Reproduced with permission of the Licensor
through PLSclear.
• Prosser, T., The Privatization of Public Enterprises in France and Great
Britain, The State, Constitutions and Public Policy, EUI Working Paper
No.88/364 (1988).
• REGULATION AND ITS REFORM by Stephen Breyer, Cambridge,
Mass.: Harvard University Press, Copyright © 1982 by the President and
Fellows of Harvard College.
• The Incorporated Council of Law Reporting for England and Wales
(ICLR):
— A [2002] 1 A.C. 45
— Aga Khan [1993] 1 W.L.R. 909
— Aston Cantlow [2004] 1 A.C. 546
— Brind [1991] 1 A.C. 696
— Bushell [1981] A.C. 75
— Donoghue [2002] Q.B. 48
— E [2004] Q.B. 1044
— Edwards v Bairstow [1956] A.C. 14, HL
— Ghaidan [2004] 2 A.C. 557
— Hoffmann-La Roche [1975] A.C. 295
— Laker Airways [1977] Q.B. 643
— Matadeen v Pointu [1999] 1 A.C. 98
— Michalak v Wandsworth LBC [2003] 1 W.L.R. 617 CA (Civ Div)
— Page [1993] A.C. 682
— ProLife Alliance [2004] 1 A.C. 185
— R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Daly [2001] 2
A.C. 532, HL
— Secretary of State for the Home Department v AF (No.3) [2009] 2
W.L.R. 423, CA (Civ Div)
— South Buckinghamshire DC v Porter (No.2) [2004] 1 W.L.R. 1953
QBD
— South Yorkshire Transport [1993] 1 W.L.R. 23
— UK Withdrawal from the European Union (Legal Continuity)
(Scotland) Bill [2019] A.C. 1022, SC
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• Borrie, Sir G., “The Regulation of Public and Private Power” [1989] P.L.
552.
• Freedland, M., “Privatizing Carltona: Part II of the Deregulation and
Contracting-Out Act 1994” [1995] P.L. 21.
• Laws, Sir J., “Is the High Court the Guardian of Fundamental
Constitutional Rights?” [1993] P.L. 59.
While every care has been taken to establish and acknowledge copyright, and
contact the copyright owners, the publishers tender their apologies for any
accidental infringement. They would be pleased to come to a suitable
arrangement with the rightful owners in each case.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
Preface to the Ninth Edition vii
Acknowledgments ix
Table of Cases xliii
Table of Statutes clix
Table of Statutory Instruments clxxiii
Table of EU and International Legislation clxxv
PARA
6. LOCAL GOVERNMENT
1. CENTRAL ISSUES 6–001
2. LOCAL AUTHORITIES: STRUCTURE, ORGANISATION, POWERS
AND FINANCE
A. Structure 6–002
B. Internal Organisation 6–005
C. Functions and Powers 6–007
i. Industrialisation and urbanisation 6–008
ii. Trading and redistribution 6–009
iii. Market forces and local authority services:
Conservative policy 1970s–1990s 6–010
iv. Market forces and local authority services:
Labour policy 1990s–2000s 6–011
v. Market forces and local authority services:
Coalition and Conservative Government policy
post-2010 6–012
D. Finances 6–013
i. Resources 6–014
ii. Grants and curbs on spending: history 6–015
iii. Grants and curbs on spending: current position 6–016
3. LOCAL GOVERNANCE: AGENCIES AND SERVICE DELIVERY 6–017
4. CENTRAL–LOCAL RELATIONS AND DEMOCRACY 6–018
7. DEVOLUTION
1. CENTRAL ISSUES 7–001
2. SCOTLAND
A. Background 7–002
B. Composition of the Scottish Parliament 7–003
C. Formal Operation of the Scottish Parliament 7–004
D. Powers of the Scottish Parliament: Legislative
Powers
i. Devolution strategies 7–005
ii. Legislative powers: sections 28 and 29(1) 7–006
iii. Limits to legislative power: section 29(2) 7–007
iv. Limits to legislative power: section 29(2)(b) and
Schedule 5 7–008
v. Limits to legislative power: legal challenges and
judicial approach 7–009
E. Powers of the Scottish Parliament: Executive Powers 7–010
F. Powers of the Scottish Parliament: Subordinate
Legislation 7–011
i. Subordinate legislation and earlier enactments:
scope of the power 7–012
ii. Subordinate legislation made under the Scotland
Act: scope of the power 7–013
iii. Subordinate legislation made under the Scotland
Act: exercise of the power 7–014
iv. Subordinate legislation made pursuant to the
Scotland Act: procedure 7–015
G. Competence of the Scottish Parliament: Political
Challenge 7–016
H. Competence of the Scottish Parliament: Judicial
Challenge 7–017
i. Resolution of devolution issues: direct reference
to the Supreme Court 7–018
ii. Resolution of devolution issues: institution of
proceedings by a law officer 7–019
iii. Resolution of devolution issues: reference to
other courts 7–020
iv. Resolution of devolution issues: decision made
by the court seized of the matter 7–021
v. Devolution issues which “arise”: collateral
challenge 7–022
vi. Lack of competence: legal effect 7–023
I. Scottish Devolution: Some Reflections 7–024
i. Political considerations 7–025
ii. Legal considerations 7–026
iii. Intergovernmental considerations 7–027
3. WALES
A. Background 7–028
B. The Assembly
i. Composition 7–030
ii. Operation 7–031
C. The Executive
i. Composition 7–032
ii. Functions 7–033
D. Powers 7–034
i. Assembly Measures 7–035
ii. Assembly Acts 7–036
iii. Subordinate legislation 7–037
E. Judicial Challenge 7–038
i. Resolution of devolution issues: direct reference
to the Supreme Court 7–039
ii. Resolution of devolution issues: institution of
proceedings by a law officer 7–040
iii. Resolution of devolution issues: reference
through other courts 7–041
iv. Resolution of devolution issues: decisions made
by the court seized of the matter 7–043
v. Devolution issues which “arise”: collateral
challenge 7–044
vi. Lack of competence: legal effect 7–045
F. Welsh Devolution: Some Reflections 7–046
5. CONCLUSION 13–027
15. RULE-MAKING
1. CENTRAL ISSUES 15–001
2. DELEGATED LEGISLATION: HISTORY, RATIONALE AND FORM
A. History 15–002
B. Rationale and Constitutional Concerns 15–003
C. Form 15–004
3. DELEGATED LEGISLATION: PASSAGE AND PUBLICATION
A. The Statutory Instruments Act 1946 15–005
B. Publication and Making 15–006
C. Publication and Making: Exceptions 15–008
4. DELEGATED LEGISLATION: CONTROL BY PARLIAMENT
A. Scrutiny by the House 15–009
B. Scrutiny in Committee: Delegated Legislation
Committees 15–011
C. Scrutiny in Committee: The Joint Committee on
Statutory Instruments 15–012
D. Scrutiny in Committee: The House of Lords
Secondary Legislation Scrutiny Committee 15–013
E. Scrutiny of Regulatory Reform: A Special Regime 15–014
F. Scrutiny of European Legislation 15–016
5. DELEGATED LEGISLATION: CONSULTATION
A. Consultation: General Principles 15–017
B. Consultation Rights: Benefits 15–018
C. Consultation Rights: Contentious Issues 15–019
D. Consultation: Government Principles 15–021
E. Conclusion 15–022
6. DELEGATED LEGISLATION: JUDICIAL REVIEW
A. Procedural Ultra Vires and Formal Invalidity 15–023
B. Substantive Ultra Vires: Infringement of the Primary
Statute 15–024
C. Substantive Ultra Vires: Breach of Constitutional
Principle 15–025
23. EQUALITY
2. TYPES OF CHALLENGE
A. Direct and Collateral Attack: Classification 24–002
B. Relationship between Direct and Collateral Attack:
The General Principle 24–003
C. Relationship between Direct and Collateral Attack:
Qualifications to the General Principle 24–004
i. The particular statute 24–005
ii. Court orders 24–006
iii. General law on remedies 24–007
iv. Positive and negative decisions 24–008
v. De facto judges and officers 24–009
3. VOID AND VOIDABLE: CORRECT AND INCORRECT USES 24–010
A. Void: A Relative not Absolute Concept 24–011
B. Void Act: Whether an Error Renders the Decision
Void 24–013
C. Void Act: Consequences 24–014
D. Voidable: Different Uses 24–015
i. Indicative of the need to challenge 24–016
ii. An alternative to locus standi 24–017
iii. Gravity of the error 24–018
iv. Errors of law within jurisdiction 24–019
4. VOID AND VOIDABLE: THEORY, REALITY AND JUDICIAL
DISCRETION 24–020
A. Administrative Convenience, Justice and Rigidity 24–021
B. Resolving the Problem
i. First principles 24–022
ii. Remedial discretion 24–023
iii. Relevance of compensation 24–024
iv. Relevance of parliamentary redress 24–025
5. VOID AND VOIDABLE: NATURAL JUSTICE 24–026
A. Hearings 24–027
B. Waiver 24–029
6. PROBLEMS OF PROOF
A. The Burden of Proof 24–030
B. Validity Pending Determination 24–032
C. Partial Invalidity 24–035
PAGE
Index 967
TABLE OF CASES
56 Denton Road, Twickenham, Re [1953] Ch. 51; [1952] 2 All E.R.
799; [1952] 2 T.L.R. 676; [1952] 10 WLUK 69; [1952] W.N. 22–029,
472 Ch D 22–030
A v B (Investigatory Powers Tribunal: Jurisdiction) [2009] UKSC 5–047, 20–
12; [2010] 2 A.C. 1; [2010] 2 W.L.R. 1; [2010] 1 All E.R. 1149; 037, 26–
[2009] 12 WLUK 252; [2010] H.R.L.R. 11; [2010] U.K.H.R.R. 021, 26–
568 022, 28–
005
A v BBC. See BBC, Re
A v Essex CC [2003] EWCA Civ 1848; [2004] 1 W.L.R. 1881;
[2003] 12 WLUK 497; [2004] 1 F.L.R. 749; [2004] 1 F.C.R.
660; [2004] B.L.G.R. 587; (2004) 7 C.C.L. Rep. 98; [2004] Fam.
Law 238; (2004) 148 S.J.L.B. 27 30–018
A v HM Treasury [2010] UKSC 2; [2010] 2 A.C. 534; [2010] 2
W.L.R. 378; [2010] 4 All E.R. 745; [2010] 1 WLUK 510; [2010]
H.R.L.R. 15; [2010] U.K.H.R.R. 204; [2010] Lloyd’s Rep. F.C. 15–026,
217; (2010) 154(4) S.J.L.B. 28 19–024
A v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2003] EWCA Civ
175; [2003] 1 WLUK 335; [2003] I.N.L.R. 249; (2003) 147 17–003,
S.J.L.B. 114 17–035
A v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2004] UKHL 56;
[2005] 2 A.C. 68; [2005] 2 W.L.R. 87; [2005] 3 All E.R. 169; 13–016,
[2004] 12 WLUK 462; [2005] H.R.L.R. 1; [2005] U.K.H.R.R. 20–014,
175; 17 B.H.R.C. 496; [2005] Imm. A.R. 103; (2005) 155 N.L.J. 23–004,
23; (2005) 149 S.J.L.B. 28 23–017
A v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2013] EWHC
1272 (Admin); [2013] 5 WLUK 545 9–029
A v United Kingdom (3455/05) [2009] 2 WLUK 521; (2009) 49 13–017,
E.H.R.R. 29; 26 B.H.R.C. 1 ECHR (Grand Chamber) 16–028
A Local Authority (Inquiry: Restraint on Publication), Re [2003]
EWHC 2746 (Fam); [2004] Fam. 96; [2004] 2 W.L.R. 926;
[2004] 1 All E.R. 480; [2003] 11 WLUK 768; [2004] 1 F.L.R.
541; [2004] 1 F.C.R. 113; [2004] B.L.G.R. 117; (2004) 7 C.C.L.
Rep. 426; (2004) 76 B.M.L.R. 210; [2004] Fam. Law 179;
(2004) 101(3) L.S.G. 33 20–036
AB (Sierra Leone) v Secretary of State for the Home Department
[2017] 7 WLUK 122 CA (Civ Div) 9–024
Abbas v Secretary of State. See Secretary of State for the Home Department v
Abbas
Abbott v Sullivan [1952] 1 K.B. 189; [1952] 1 All E.R. 226; [1951]
2 Lloyd’s Rep. 573; [1952] 1 T.L.R. 133; [1951] 12 WLUK 73;
(1952) 96 S.J. 119 CA 24–027
ABC v Principal Reporter [2020] UKSC 26; [2020] 1 W.L.R. 2703;
[2020] 4 All E.R. 917; 2020 S.C. (U.K.S.C.) 47; 2020 S.L.T.
679; 2020 S.C.L.R. 602; [2020] 6 WLUK 221; 2020 Fam. L.R.
86; 2020 G.W.D. 21-284 7–009
ABC v St George’s Healthcare NHS Foundation Trust [2017]
EWCA Civ 336; [2017] 5 WLUK 360; [2017] P.I.Q.R. P15;
[2017] Med. L.R. 368; (2018) 160 B.M.L.R. 19 30–018
ABCIFER case. See R. (on the application of Association of British Civilian
Internees (Far East Region)) v Secretary of State for Defence
Abdulaziz v United Kingdom (A/94) [1985] 5 WLUK 295; (1985) 7 23–010,
E.H.R.R. 471 ECHR 25–029
Abdule v Foreign and Commonwealth Office [2018] EWHC 3594
(QB); [2018] 12 WLUK 441 13–022
Abramova v Oxford Institute of Legal Practice [2011] EWHC 613
(QB); [2011] 3 WLUK 631; [2011] E.L.R. 385 30–018
Ackerley v Parkinson 105 E.R. 665; (1815) 3 M. & S. 411; [1815] 1
WLUK 164 KB 16–019
ACT Construction Co Ltd v Customs and Excise Commissioners 9–022, 16–
[1981] 1 W.L.R. 1542; [1982] 1 All E.R. 84; [1982] S.T.C. 25; 023, 16–
[1981] 12 WLUK 55; (1981) 125 S.J. 864 HL 031
Adami v Ethical Standards Officer of the Standards Board for
England [2005] EWCA Civ 1754; [2005] 11 WLUK 575; [2006] 9–033, 12–
B.L.G.R. 397; [2007] L.L.R. 1 035
Adams v Adams (Attorney General intervening) [1971] P. 188;
[1970] 3 W.L.R. 934; [1970] 3 All E.R. 572; [1970] 7 WLUK
170; (1970) 114 S.J. 605 PD&AD 24–009
Adams v Lord Advocate. See Adams v Scottish Ministers
Adams v Naylor [1946] A.C. 543; [1946] 2 All E.R. 241; [1946] 5
WLUK 49 HL 29–012
Adams v Scottish Ministers 2004 S.C. 665; [2004] 5 WLUK 674; 7–009, 25–
2004 G.W.D. 18-384 IH 030
Adams v War Office [1955] 1 W.L.R. 1116; [1955] 3 All E.R. 245;
[1955] 10 WLUK 13; (1955) 99 S.J. 746 QBD 29–013
Adan (Hassan Hussein) v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [1999] 1 A.C. 293; [1998] 2 W.L.R. 702; [1998] 2
All E.R. 453; [1998] 4 WLUK 63; [1998] Imm. A.R. 338;
[1998] I.N.L.R. 325; (1998) 95(18) L.S.G. 33; (1998) 148 N.L.J.
552; (1998) 142 S.J.L.B. 139 HL 17–002
Adesina v Nursery and Midwifery Council [2013] EWCA Civ 818;
[2013] 1 W.L.R. 3156; [2013] 7 WLUK 245; (2013) 133
B.M.L.R. 196 20–014
Agricultural, Horticultural and Forestry Industry Training Board v
Aylesbury Mushrooms [1972] 1 W.L.R. 190; [1972] 1 All E.R.
280; [1971] 10 WLUK 70 QBD 12–028
AH v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2011] EWCA
Civ 787; [2011] 7 WLUK 136 13–018
Air Canada v Secretary of State for Trade (No.2) [1983] 2 A.C. 394; 13–008,
[1983] 2 W.L.R. 494; [1983] 1 All E.R. 910; [1983] 3 WLUK 13–009,
119 HL 13–011,
27–006,
27–056
Aireborough Neighbourhood Development Forum v Leeds City
Council [2020] EWHC 45 (Admin); [2020] 1 W.L.R. 2355;
[2020] 1 WLUK 32; [2020] L.L.R. 255; [2020] J.P.L. 767 25–026
Aklagaren v Fransson (C-617/10) EU:C:2013:105; [2013] S.T.C.
1905; [2013] 2 WLUK 707; [2013] 2 C.M.L.R. 46; 15 I.T.L.
Rep. 698 23–021
Al Fawwaz v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2015]
EWHC 468 (Admin); [2015] 3 WLUK 9; [2015] A.C.D. 80 13–022
Al Rawi v Security Service [2011] UKSC 34; [2012] 1 A.C. 531; 12–022,
[2011] 3 W.L.R. 388; [2012] 1 All E.R. 1; [2011] 7 WLUK 365; 13–001,
[2011] U.K.H.R.R. 931; (2011) 108(30) L.S.G. 23; (2011) 13–020—
155(28) S.J.L.B. 31 13–022,
13–024—
13–026
Barrs v Bethell [1982] Ch. 294; [1981] 3 W.L.R. 874; [1982] 1 All 25–007,
E.R. 106; [1981] 7 WLUK 150; 81 L.G.R. 269; (1981) 125 S.J. 25–031,
808 Ch D 26–029
Barry v Arnaud 113 E.R. 245; (1839) 10 Ad. & El. 646; [1839] 1
WLUK 277 QB 30–032
Bates v Lord Hailsham of St Marylebone [1972] 1 W.L.R. 1373; 12–009,
[1972] 3 All E.R. 1019; [1972] 7 WLUK 94; (1972) 116 S.J. 584 12–012,
Ch D 12–028,
15–017
Battelley v Finsbury BC [1958] 1 WLUK 639; (1958) 122 J.P. 169;
56 L.G.R. 165 18–004
BBC, Re [2014] UKSC 25; [2015] A.C. 588; [2014] 2 W.L.R. 1243;
[2014] 2 All E.R. 1037; 2014 S.C. (U.K.S.C.) 151; 2014 S.L.T.
613; 2014 S.C.L.R. 593; [2014] 5 WLUK 255; [2014] E.M.L.R.
25; 37 B.H.R.C. 664; 2014 G.W.D. 15-266 12–044
BBC v Johns [1965] Ch. 32; [1964] 2 W.L.R. 1071; [1964] 1 All
E.R. 923; [1964] 3 WLUK 20; [1964] R.V.R. 579; 10 R.R.C.
239; 41 T.C. 471; (1964) 43 A.T.C. 38; [1964] T.R. 45; (1964)
108 S.J. 217 CA 29–002
BBC v Sugar [2009] UKHL 9; [2009] 1 W.L.R. 430; [2009] 4 All 8–006, 16–
E.R. 111; [2009] 2 WLUK 274; (2009) 153(7) S.J.L.B. 31 027
BBC v Sugar [2012] UKSC 4; [2012] 1 W.L.R. 439; [2012] 2 All
E.R. 509; [2012] 2 WLUK 462; [2012] E.M.L.R. 17; (2012) 162 8–008, 20–
N.L.J. 294; (2012) 156(7) S.J.L.B. 31 005
Beadle v Revenue and Customs Commissioners [2020] EWCA Civ
562; [2020] 1 W.L.R. 3028; [2021] 1 All E.R. 237; [2020] 4 24–003,
WLUK 309; [2020] B.T.C. 11; [2020] S.T.I. 1136 27–010
Beaudesert Shire Council v Smith [1966] HCA 49; 120 C.L.R. 145
HC (Aus) 30–045
Beggs v Scottish Ministers [2007] UKHL 3; [2007] 1 W.L.R. 455;
2007 S.L.T. 235; 2007 S.C.L.R. 287; [2007] 2 WLUK 174; 29–008,
(2007) 151 S.J.L.B. 258; 2007 G.W.D. 5-72 29–011
Beggs v Scottish Ministers (Contempt of Court) 2005 1 S.C. 342;
2005 S.L.T. 305; 2005 S.C.L.R. 640; [2005] 3 WLUK 486; 2005
G.W.D. 10-145 IH
29–011
Begum v Tower Hamlets LBC [2003] UKHL 5; [2003] 2 A.C. 430; 12–016—
[2003] 2 W.L.R. 388; [2003] 1 All E.R. 731; [2003] 2 WLUK 12–018,
425; [2003] H.R.L.R. 16; [2003] U.K.H.R.R. 419; 14 B.H.R.C. 14–013,
400; [2003] H.L.R. 32; [2003] B.L.G.R. 205; 2003 Hous. L.R. 14–019,
20; [2003] A.C.D. 41; (2003) 100(13) L.S.G. 28; (2003) 147 14–020,
S.J.L.B. 232; [2003] N.P.C. 21 20–005
Belfast City Council v Miss Behavin’ Ltd [2007] UKHL 19; [2007] 20–045,
1 W.L.R. 1420; [2007] 3 All E.R. 1007; [2007] N.I. 89; [2007] 4 20–046,
WLUK 410; [2007] H.R.L.R. 26; [2008] B.L.G.R. 127; [2007] 20–048,
L.L.R. 312; (2007) 104(19) L.S.G. 27; (2007) 151 S.J.L.B. 575 20–050,
21–026
Belgian Linguistic Case (A/6) [1968] 7 WLUK 102; (1979-80) 1
E.H.R.R. 252 ECHR 23–010
Belize Alliance of Conservation Non-Governmental Organisations v
Department of the Environment [2004] UKPC 6; [2004] 1
WLUK 616; [2004] Env. L.R. 38 27–058
Belize Bank Ltd v Attorney General of Belize [2011] UKPC 36;
[2011] 10 WLUK 579 14–007
Bell v United Kingdom (41534/98) [2007] 1 WLUK 225; (2007) 45
E.H.R.R. 24 ECHR 12–033
Bell’s Application for Judicial Review, Re [2017] NIQB 38; [2017]
3 WLUK 613 21–003
Bellinger v Bellinger [2003] UKHL 21; [2003] 2 A.C. 467; [2003] 2
W.L.R. 1174; [2003] 2 All E.R. 593; [2003] 4 WLUK 358;
[2003] 1 F.L.R. 1043; [2003] 2 F.C.R. 1; [2003] H.R.L.R. 22;
[2003] U.K.H.R.R. 679; 14 B.H.R.C. 127; (2003) 72 B.M.L.R.
147; [2003] A.C.D. 74; [2003] Fam. Law 485; (2003) 153 N.L.J.
594; (2003) 147 S.J.L.B. 472 20–013
Benjamin v Storr (1873-74) L.R. 9 C.P. 400; [1874] 4 WLUK 50
CCP 25–006
Benkharbouche v Embassy of Sudan [2017] UKSC 62; [2019] A.C.
777; [2017] 3 W.L.R. 957; [2018] 1 All E.R. 662; [2017] 10
WLUK 393; [2017] I.C.R. 1327; [2018] I.R.L.R. 123; [2017]
H.R.L.R. 15; 43 B.H.R.C. 378 20–014
City of Long Beach v Mansell 3 Cal. 3d 462 (1970); 476 P.2d 423
(1970) Sup Ct (Cal) 22–049
Clairborne Sales Co v Collector of Revenue 99 So. 2d 345 (1957)
Sup Ct (LA) 22–044
Clark v Epsom Rural DC [1929] 1 Ch. 287; [1928] 11 WLUK 93 Ch
D 27–062
Clark v University of Lincolnshire and Humberside [2000] 1 W.L.R. 27–014,
1988; [2000] 3 All E.R. 752; [2000] 4 WLUK 635; [2000] Ed. 27–015,
C.R. 553; [2000] E.L.R. 345; [2000] C.O.D. 293; (2000) 150 27–017,
N.L.J. 616; (2000) 144 S.J.L.B. 220 CA (Civ Div) 27–042,
27–050,
27–051
Clarke v Chadburn [1985] 1 W.L.R. 78; [1985] 1 All E.R. 211;
[1984] 7 WLUK 192; [1984] I.R.L.R. 350; (1984) 81 L.S.G.
3094; (1984) 128 S.J. 767 Ch D 26–028
Clarke v Devon CC [2005] EWCA Civ 266; [2005] 3 WLUK 626;
[2005] C.P. Rep. 42; [2005] 2 F.L.R. 747; [2005] 1 F.C.R. 752;
[2005] E.L.R. 375 30–018
Clay, Re [1919] 1 Ch. 66; [1918] 10 WLUK 10 CA 26–024
Clayton v Army Board of the Defence Council [2014] EWHC 1651
(Admin); [2014] 5 WLUK 761; [2014] A.C.D. 110 12–030
Close’s Application for Judicial Review, Re [2020] NICA 20;
[2020] 4 WLUK 108 20–005
Clough v Bussan [1990] 1 All E.R. 431; [1989] 1 WLUK 670;
[1990] R.T.R. 178 QBD 30–008
Clough v Ratcliffe 63 E.R. 1016; (1847) 1 De G. & Sm. 164; [1847]
5 WLUK 89 Ct of Ch 26–017
Clunis v Camden & Islington HA [1998] Q.B. 978; [1998] 2 W.L.R.
902; [1998] 3 All E.R. 180; [1997] 12 WLUK 124; (1997-98) 1
C.C.L. Rep. 215; (1998) 40 B.M.L.R. 181; [1998] P.N.L.R. 262;
(1998) 95(2) L.S.G. 23; (1998) 142 S.J.L.B. 38 CA (Civ Div) 30–034
Cocks v Thanet DC [1983] 2 A.C. 286; [1982] 3 W.L.R. 1121; 27–007,
[1982] 3 All E.R. 1135; [1982] 11 WLUK 223; (1983) 6 H.L.R. 27–060
15; 81 L.G.R. 81; [1984] R.V.R. 31; (1982) 126 S.J. 820 HL
Coghurst Wood Leisure Park Ltd v Secretary of State for Transport, 22–038,
Local Government and the Regions [2002] EWHC 1091 22–045,
(Admin); [2002] 5 WLUK 817; [2003] J.P.L. 206; [2002] 24 22–049,
E.G. 145 (C.S.); [2002] N.P.C. 80 22–050
Crake v Supplementary Benefits Commission [1982] 1 All E.R. 498; 9–033, 12–
[1980] 7 WLUK 265; (1981) 2 F.L.R. 264 QBD 035
Cream Holdings Ltd v Banerjee [2004] UKHL 44; [2005] 1 A.C.
253; [2004] 3 W.L.R. 918; [2004] 4 All E.R. 617; [2004] 10
WLUK 325; [2005] E.M.L.R. 1; [2004] H.R.L.R. 39; [2004]
U.K.H.R.R. 1071; 17 B.H.R.C. 464; (2005) 28(2) I.P.D. 28001;
(2004) 101(42) L.S.G. 29; (2004) 154 N.L.J. 1589; (2004) 148
S.J.L.B. 1215 26–030
Credit Suisse v Allerdale BC [1997] Q.B. 306; [1996] 3 W.L.R. 894;
[1996] 4 All E.R. 129; [1996] 2 Lloyd’s Rep. 241; [1996] 5
WLUK 115; [1996] 5 Bank. L.R. 249; (1997) 161 J.P. Rep. 88
CA (Civ Div) 5–044
Credit Suisse v Waltham Forest LBC [1997] Q.B. 362; [1996] 3
W.L.R. 943; [1996] 4 All E.R. 176; [1996] 5 WLUK 114; (1997)
29 H.L.R. 115; 94 L.G.R. 686; (1997) 9 Admin. L.R. 517 CA 5–044—5–
(Civ Div) 046
CreedNZ Inc v Governor General [1981] 1 N.Z.L.R. 172 CA (NZ) 19–017
Crew v Vernon 79 E.R. 686; (1627) Cro. Car. 97; [1627] 1 WLUK
215 KB 24–009
Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority v First-tier Tribunal
(Social Entitlement Chamber) [2014] EWCA Civ 1554; [2015]
Q.B. 459; [2015] 2 W.L.R. 463; [2015] 4 All E.R. 60; [2014] 12
WLUK 123; [2015] 1 Cr. App. R. 19; [2015] 2 F.L.R. 1163;
[2015] P.I.Q.R. P12; (2015) 142 B.M.L.R. 18; [2015] Fam. Law 16–032
123
Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority v First-tier Tribunal
(Social Entitlement Chamber) [2018] EWCA Civ 1175; [2018] 5
WLUK 462 9–026
Crofton Investment Trust Ltd v Greater London Rent Assessment
Committee [1967] 2 Q.B. 955; [1967] 3 W.L.R. 256; [1967] 2
All E.R. 1103; [1967] 4 WLUK 17; [1967] R.V.R. 284; (1967)
111 S.J. 334 DC 12–032
Croke v Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government
[2019] EWCA Civ 54; [2019] P.T.S.R. 1406; [2019] 2 WLUK
11; [2019] 2 P. & C.R. 9; [2019] J.P.L. 665 28–009
Crompton v United Kingdom (42509/05) [2009] 10 WLUK 716;
(2010) 50 E.H.R.R. 36 ECHR 14–012
Crooke’s Case 89 E.R. 540; (1691) 1 Show. K.B. 208; [1691] 1
WLUK 2 KB 29–004
Crown Lands Commissioners v Page [1960] 2 Q.B. 274; [1960] 3 18–023,
W.L.R. 446; [1960] 2 All E.R. 726; [1960] 6 WLUK 21; (1960) 18–026,
104 S.J. 642 18–032
Crown Prosecution Service v T [2006] EWHC 728 (Admin); [2007]
1 W.L.R. 209; [2006] 3 All E.R. 471; [2006] 4 WLUK 108;
(2006) 170 J.P. 470; [2006] 3 F.C.R. 184; [2007] A.C.D. 71; 24–005,
(2006) 170 J.P.N. 835 24–006
Cullen v Chief Constable of the Royal Ulster Constabulary [2003]
UKHL 39; [2003] 1 W.L.R. 1763; [2004] 2 All E.R. 237; [2003]
N.I. 375; [2003] 7 WLUK 257; [2003] Po. L.R. 337; (2003)
100(35) L.S.G. 38; (2003) 147 S.J.L.B. 873 30–034
Cullen v Morris 171 E.R. 741; (1819) 2 Stark. 577; [1819] 1 WLUK
12 (Assizes) 30–046
Cumming v Danson [1942] 2 All E.R. 653; [1942] 11 WLUK 54
CA 21–009
Cummings v Birkenhead Corp [1972] Ch. 12; [1971] 2 W.L.R. 18–013,
1458; [1971] 2 All E.R. 881; [1971] 3 WLUK 126; 69 L.G.R. 18–014,
444; (1971) 115 S.J. 365 CA (Civ Div) 26–026,
30–032
Cunliffe v Fielden [2005] EWCA Civ 1508; [2006] Ch. 361; [2006]
2 W.L.R. 481; [2006] 2 All E.R. 115; [2005] 12 WLUK 136;
[2006] 1 F.L.R. 745; [2005] 3 F.C.R. 593; [2006] W.T.L.R. 29;
(2005-06) 8 I.T.E.L.R. 855; [2006] Fam. Law 263; (2006)
103(3) L.S.G. 26 12–034
Curran v Northern Ireland Co-Ownership Housing Association Ltd 30–008,
[1987] A.C. 718; [1987] 2 W.L.R. 1043; [1987] 2 All E.R. 13; 30–011,
[1987] 4 WLUK 87; 38 B.L.R. 1; (1987) 19 H.L.R. 318; (1987) 30–022,
84 L.S.G. 1574; (1987) 131 S.J. 506 HL 30–032
Customs and Excise Commissioners v Barclays Bank Plc [2006]
UKHL 28; [2007] 1 A.C. 181; [2006] 3 W.L.R. 1; [2006] 4 All
E.R. 256; [2006] 2 All E.R. (Comm) 831; [2006] 2 Lloyd’s Rep.
327; [2006] 6 WLUK 476; [2006] 1 C.L.C. 1096; (2006)
103(27) L.S.G. 33; (2006) 156 N.L.J. 1060; (2006) 150 S.J.L.B.
859
30–027
Customs and Excise Commissioners v Peninsular and Oriental
Steam Navigation Co Ltd [1994] S.T.C. 259; [1994] 1 WLUK
548; (1994) 138 S.J.L.B. 52 CA (Civ Div) 21–024
Cutler v Wandsworth Stadium Ltd [1949] A.C. 398; [1949] 1 All
E.R. 544; 65 T.L.R. 170; [1949] 2 WLUK 80; [1949] L.J.R. 824;
(1949) 93 S.J. 163 HL 30–032
D v Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis [2014] EWHC 2493
(QB); [2015] 1 W.L.R. 1833; [2015] 2 All E.R. 272; [2014] 7
WLUK 872 30–042
D v Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis (2018). See Commissioner of
Police of the Metropolis v DSD
D v National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children
(NSPCC) [1978] A.C. 171; [1977] 2 W.L.R. 201; [1977] 1 All
E.R. 589; [1977] 2 WLUK 13; 76 L.G.R. 5; (1977) 121 S.J. 119 13–004,
HL 13–005
D (Children) v Wakefield MDC [2016] EWHC 3312 (Fam); [2016]
12 WLUK 537; [2017] 2 F.L.R. 1353 30–041
D (Infants), Re [1970] 1 W.L.R. 599; [1970] 1 All E.R. 1088; [1970]
1 WLUK 448; 68 L.G.R. 183; (1970) 114 S.J. 188 CA (Civ Div) 13–005
D (Minors) (Adoption Reports: Confidentiality), Re [1996] A.C.
593; [1995] 3 W.L.R. 483; [1995] 4 All E.R. 385; [1995] 9
WLUK 17; [1995] 2 F.L.R. 687; [1996] 1 F.C.R. 205; [1996]
Fam. Law 8; (1995) 145 N.L.J. 1612 HL 12–031
Dale v Pollard 116 E.R. 192; (1847) 10 Q.B. 504; [1847] 4 WLUK
81 QB 16–018
Darcy v Allin 77 E.R. 1260; (1601) 11 Co. Rep. 84; [1601] 1 11–027,
WLUK 136 KB 19–005
Darker Enterprises Ltd v Dacorum BC [1992] 1 WLUK 80; [1992] 14–005,
C.O.D. 465 QBD 14–008
Darlassis v Minister of Education [1954] 3 WLUK 79; (1954) 118
J.P. 452; 52 L.G.R. 304; (1953-54) 4 P. & C.R. 281 QBD 9–048
David v Abdul Cader [1963] 1 W.L.R. 834; [1963] 3 All E.R. 579;
[1963] 7 WLUK 5; (1963) 107 S.J. 615 PC (Cey) 30–046
Davidson v Scottish Ministers (No.1) [2005] UKHL 74; 2006 S.C.
(H.L.) 41; 2006 S.L.T. 110; 2006 S.C.L.R. 249; [2005] 12
WLUK 451; 2006 G.W.D. 4-72
29–008
Davidson v Scottish Ministers (No.2) [2004] UKHL 34; 2005 1 S.C.
(H.L.) 7; 2004 S.L.T. 895; 2004 S.C.L.R. 991; [2004] 7 WLUK
457; [2004] H.R.L.R. 34; [2004] U.K.H.R.R. 1079; [2005]
A.C.D. 19; 2004 G.W.D. 27-572 14–007
Davis v Radcliffe [1990] 1 W.L.R. 821; [1990] 2 All E.R. 536;
[1990] 4 WLUK 50; [1990] B.C.C. 472; [1990] B.C.L.C. 647;
(1990) 87(19) L.S.G. 43; (1990) 134 S.J. 1078 PC (IoM) 30–008
Davy v Spelthorne BC [1984] A.C. 262; [1983] 3 W.L.R. 742;
[1983] 3 All E.R. 278; [1983] 10 WLUK 87; 82 L.G.R. 193;
(1984) 47 P. & C.R. 310; [1984] J.P.L. 269; (1983) 133 N.L.J.
1015; (1983) 127 S.J. 733 HL 27–007
Dawkins v Antrobus (1881) 17 Ch. D. 615; [1881] 2 WLUK 4 Ch D 12–001,
12–010,
12–014
Dawson & Co v Bingley Urban DC [1911] 2 K.B. 149; [1911] 3
WLUK 23 CA 30–032
Daymond v South West Water Authority [1976] A.C. 609; [1975] 3
W.L.R. 865; [1976] 1 All E.R. 39; [1975] 12 WLUK 20; 74
L.G.R. 128; (1975) 119 S.J. 846 HL 24–002
De Falco v Crawley BC [1980] Q.B. 460; [1980] 2 W.L.R. 664;
[1980] 1 All E.R. 913; [1979] 12 WLUK 96; [1980] 1 C.M.L.R.
437; 78 L.G.R. 180; [1980] J.P.L. 392; (1980) 124 S.J. 82 CA
(Civ Div) 30–032
De Freitas v Permanent Secretary of Ministry of Agriculture,
Fisheries and Housing [1999] 1 A.C. 69; [1998] 3 W.L.R. 675;
[1998] 6 WLUK 553; 4 B.H.R.C. 563; (1998) 142 S.J.L.B. 219
PC (Ant) 20–045
De Haber v Queen of Portugal 117 E.R. 1246; (1851) 17 Q.B. 171; 25–004,
[1851] 1 WLUK 26 KB 25–047,
26–010
De Keyser’s Royal Hotel Ltd, Re [1920] A.C. 508; [1920] 5 WLUK 5–038, 15–
46 HL 004, 19–
005, 29–
002
Friends Provident Life & Pensions Ltd v Secretary of State for Transport, Local
Government and Regions. See R. (on the application of Friends Provident
Life Office) v Secretary of State for the Environment, Transport and the
Regions
Frome United Breweries Co Ltd v Bath Justices [1926] A.C. 586; 14–004,
[1926] 5 WLUK 15 HL 14–010
Frost v Minister of Health [1935] 1 K.B. 286; [1934] 12 WLUK 43
KBD 12–004
Fry, Ex p. [1954] 1 W.L.R. 730; [1954] 2 All E.R. 118; [1954] 4
WLUK 11; (1954) 118 J.P. 313; 52 L.G.R. 320; (1954) 98 S.J.
318 CA 12–008
Fullbrook v Berkshire Magistrates’ Courts Committee [1971] 1
WLUK 120; 69 L.G.R. 75 26–023
Fuller v Fotch 90 E.R. 802; (1700) Carth. 346; [1700] 1 WLUK 283
KB 24–002
Furnell v Flaherty [2013] EWHC 377 (QB); [2013] 2 WLUK 752;
[2013] P.T.S.R. D20 30–023
G (A Child) v Bromley LBC [1999] 7 WLUK 656; (2000) 2
L.G.L.R. 237; [2000] Ed. C.R. 49; [1999] E.L.R. 356 CA (Civ
Div) 30–018
Gahan v Maingay (1793) Ridg. L. & S. 20 24–003
Gallagher v Post Office [1970] 3 All E.R. 712; [1970] 1 WLUK
107; 9 K.I.R. 78 Ch D 12–028
Gallagher’s Application for Judicial Review, Re [2016] NIQB 95;
[2016] 12 WLUK 520 13–022
Galloway v London Corporation (1866) L.R. 1 H.L. 34; [1866] 4
WLUK 31 HL 19–011
Gard v Callard 105 E.R. 1169; (1817) 6 M. & S. 69; [1817] 2
WLUK 4 KB 11–028
Garland v British Rail Engineering Ltd [1983] 2 A.C. 751; [1982] 2
W.L.R. 918; [1982] 4 WLUK 139; [1982] 2 C.M.L.R. 174;
20–002
[1982] I.C.R. 420; [1982] I.R.L.R. 257; (1982) 126 S.J. 309 HL
Garrett v Attorney General [1997] 2 N.Z.L.R. 332 CA (NZ) 30–047
Gaskin v Liverpool City Council [1980] 1 W.L.R. 1549; [1980] 6 13–005,
WLUK 309; (1980) 124 S.J. 498 CA (Civ Div) 13–010
GB v Home Office [2015] EWHC 819 (QB); [2015] 3 WLUK 880 29–013
GCHQ case. See Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister for the Civil
Service
Geddis v Bann Reservoir Proprietors (1878) 3 App. Cas. 430; [1878]
2 WLUK 64 HL 30–003
General Electric Co Ltd v Price Commission [1974] 11 WLUK 107; 17–007,
[1975] I.C.R. 1; (1974) 119 S.J. 166 CA (Civ Div) 17–018,
17–023
General Medical Council v Michalak. See Michalak v General Medical Council
General Medical Council v Spackman [1943] A.C. 627; [1943] 2 All
E.R. 337; (1943) 59 T.L.R. 412; [1943] 8 WLUK 5; (1943) 169 12–023,
L.T. 226; (1943) 87 S.J. 298 HL 26–006
Georgiou v Enfield LBC [2004] EWHC 779 (Admin); [2004] 4
WLUK 225; [2004] B.L.G.R. 497; [2004] 2 P. & C.R. 21;
14–008
[2004] L.L.R. 453; [2005] J.P.L. 62; (2004) 101(17) L.S.G. 33
Gerber v Wiltshire Council [2016] EWCA Civ 84; [2016] 1 W.L.R.
2593; [2016] 2 WLUK 609; [2016] J.P.L. 809 27–049
Ghaidan v Godin-Mendoza [2004] UKHL 30; [2004] 2 A.C. 557;
[2004] 3 W.L.R. 113; [2004] 3 All E.R. 411; [2004] 6 WLUK 20–012—
427; [2004] 2 F.L.R. 600; [2004] 2 F.C.R. 481; [2004] H.R.L.R. 20–016,
31; [2004] U.K.H.R.R. 827; 16 B.H.R.C. 671; [2004] H.L.R. 46; 20–019,
[2005] 1 P. & C.R. 18; [2005] L. & T.R. 3; [2004] 2 E.G.L.R. 20–034,
132; [2004] Fam. Law 641; [2004] 27 E.G. 128 (C.S.); (2004) 23–006,
101(27) L.S.G. 30; (2004) 154 N.L.J. 1013; (2004) 148 S.J.L.B. 23–012,
792; [2004] N.P.C. 100; [2004] 2 P. & C.R. DG17 23–015
Gibraltar Betting & Gaming Association Ltd v Secretary of State for
Culture, Media and Sport [2014] EWHC 3236 (Admin); [2014]
10 WLUK 337; [2015] 1 C.M.L.R. 28; [2015] L.L.R. 6; [2015]
A.C.D. 10 25–020
Gibson v United States [2007] UKPC 52; [2007] 1 W.L.R. 2367;
[2007] 7 WLUK 667; [2007] Extradition L.R. 239 26–038
Gilham v Ministry of Justice [2019] UKSC 44; [2019] 1 W.L.R.
5905; [2020] 1 All E.R. 1; [2019] 10 WLUK 193; [2019] I.C.R.
1655; [2020] I.R.L.R. 52; [2020] H.R.L.R. 1; 47 B.H.R.C. 337
5–047
Gillick v West Norfolk and Wisbech AHA [1986] A.C. 112; [1985]
3 W.L.R. 830; [1985] 3 All E.R. 402; [1985] 10 WLUK 150;
[1986] Crim. L.R. 113; (1985) 82 L.S.G. 3531; (1985) 135 15–047,
N.L.J. 1055; (1985) 129 S.J. 738 HL 27–016
Gillies v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2006] UKHL 2;
[2006] 1 W.L.R. 781; [2006] 1 All E.R. 731; 2006 S.C. (H.L.)
71; 2006 S.L.T. 77; 2006 S.C.L.R. 276; [2006] 1 WLUK 495;
[2006] I.C.R. 267; (2006) 9 C.C.L. Rep. 404; (2006) 103(9)
L.S.G. 33; (2006) 150 S.J.L.B. 127; 2006 G.W.D. 3-66 HL 14–007
Gillingham BC v Medway (Chatham Docks) Co Ltd [1993] Q.B.
343; [1992] 3 W.L.R. 449; [1992] 3 All E.R. 923; [1991] 7
WLUK 434; [1993] Env. L.R. 98; 91 L.G.R. 160; (1992) 63 P.
& C.R. 205; [1992] 1 P.L.R. 113; [1992] J.P.L. 458; [1991] E.G. 22–030,
101 (C.S.); [1991] N.P.C. 97 QBD 30–054
Gillingham Corp v Kent CC [1953] Ch. 37; [1952] 2 All E.R. 1107;
[1952] 2 T.L.R. 1009; [1952] 11 WLUK 92; (1953) 117 J.P. 39;
51 L.G.R. 52; (1952) 96 S.J. 803 Ch D 26–021
Givaudan & Co Ltd v Minister of Housing and Local Government
[1967] 1 W.L.R. 250; [1966] 3 All E.R. 696; [1966] 5 WLUK
10; (1967) 131 J.P. 79; 64 L.G.R. 352; (1967) 18 P. & C.R. 88; 9–050, 12–
198 E.G. 585; (1966) 110 S.J. 371 QBD 035
Glasgow Corp v Central Land Board 1956 S.C. (H.L.) 1; 1956
S.L.T. 41; [1955] 12 WLUK 42; [1956] J.P.L. 442 13–002
Global Plant Ltd v Secretary of State for Social Services [1972] 1
Q.B. 139; [1971] 3 W.L.R. 269; [1971] 3 All E.R. 385; [1971] 6
WLUK 17; (1971) 11 K.I.R. 284; (1971) 115 S.J. 506 QBD 9–023
Glynn v Keele University [1971] 1 W.L.R. 487; [1971] 2 All E.R. 12–013,
89; [1970] 12 WLUK 92; (1970) 115 S.J. 173Ch D 12–023
GN v Poole BC. See Poole BC v GN
Gokool v Permanent Secretary of Health and Quality of Life [2008]
UKPC 54; [2008] 12 WLUK 56 27–033
Golden Chemical Products, Re [1976] Ch. 300; [1976] 3 W.L.R. 1;
[1976] 2 All E.R. 543; [1976] 3 WLUK 140; (1976) 120 S.J. 401
Ch D 18–005
Golder v United Kingdom (A/18) [1975] 2 WLUK 107; (1979-80) 1 12–016,
E.H.R.R. 524 ECHR 12–044
Goldman v Hargrave [1967] 1 A.C. 645; [1966] 3 W.L.R. 513;
[1966] 2 All E.R. 989; [1966] 2 Lloyd’s Rep. 65; [1966] 6
WLUK 31; (1966) 110 S.J. 52 PC (Aus) 30–053
Goodenough v Chief Constable of Thames Valley [2020] EWHC
1428 (QB); [2020] 6 WLUK 75 30–041
Goodridge v Chief Constable of Hampshire [1999] 1 W.L.R. 1558;
[1999] 1 All E.R. 896; [1998] 3 WLUK 144 QBD 13–010
Gordon Dadds & Co v Morris [1945] 2 All E.R. 616; (1945) 62 T.
L. R. 29 18–004
Gordondale Investments Ltd v Secretary of State for the
Environment [1971] 11 WLUK 39; 70 L.G.R. 158; (1972) 23 P.
& C.R. 334 CA (Civ Div) 16–036
Gorringe v Calderdale MBC [2004] UKHL 15; [2004] 1 W.L.R. 30–021,
1057; [2004] 2 All E.R. 326; [2004] 4 WLUK 58; [2004] R.T.R. 30–023,
27; [2004] P.I.Q.R. P32; (2004) 101(18) L.S.G. 35; (2004) 148 30–027,
S.J.L.B. 419 30–034
Gorris v Scott (1873-74) L.R. 9 Ex. 125; [1874] 4 WLUK 33 Ex Ct 30–032
Gorton Local Board v Prison Commissioners [1904] 2 K.B. 165
(Note); [1887] 6 WLUK 59 KBD 29–002
Gould v Stuart [1896] A.C. 575; [1896] 7 WLUK 106 PC (Aus) 5–048
Gouriet v Union of Post Office Workers [1978] A.C. 435; [1977] 3 24–033,
W.L.R. 300; [1977] 3 All E.R. 70; [1977] 7 WLUK 167; (1977) 25–007,
121 S.J. 543 HL 25–009,
25–015,
25–031,
25–034,
25–035,
25–041,
26–029,
27–001
Governor, Deputy Governor, Assistants, and Guardians of the Poor 16–018,
of the City of Bristol v Wait 110 E.R. 1207; (1834) 1 Ad. & El. 16–020,
264; [1834] 1 WLUK 340 KB 17–002,
17–006
Governors of the Peabody Donation Fund v Sir Lindsay Parkinson
& Co Ltd [1985] A.C. 210; [1984] 3 W.L.R. 953; [1984] 3 All 30–005,
E.R. 529; [1984] 10 WLUK 172; 28 B.L.R. 1; 83 L.G.R. 1; 30–008,
[1984] C.I.L.L. 128; (1984) 81 L.S.G. 3179; (1984) 128 S.J. 753 30–011,
HL 30–032
Graddage v Haringey LBC [1975] 1 W.L.R. 241; [1975] 1 All E.R.
224; [1974] 10 WLUK 58; (1975) 29 P. & C.R. 441; [1974]
J.P.L. 723; (1974) 118 S.J. 775 Ch D 28–006
Graham v Public Works Commissioners [1901] 2 K.B. 781; [1901]
5 WLUK 79 KBD 5–036
Great Central Railway Co v Hewlett [1916] 2 A.C. 511; [1916] 7
WLUK 87 HL 30–003
Great Western Railway Co v Sutton (1869-70) L.R. 4 H.L. 226; 11–028,
[1869] 7 WLUK 65 30–062
Greaves v Boston BC [2014] EWHC 3590 (Admin); [2014] 11
WLUK 717 25–018
Greene v Associated Newspapers Ltd [2004] EWCA Civ 1462;
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L.S.G. 31; (2004) 148 S.J.L.B. 1318 26–030
Greene v Secretary of State for Home Affairs [1942] A.C. 284;
[1941] 3 All E.R. 388; [1941] 11 WLUK 2 HL 24–031
Gregory v Camden LBC [1966] 1 W.L.R. 899; [1966] 2 All E.R.
196; [1965] 12 WLUK 103; (1966) 130 J.P. 244; 64 L.G.R. 215;
(1967) 18 P. & C.R. 69; 197 E.G. 19; (1966) 110 S.J. 213 QBD 25–006
Groenvelt v Burwell 91 E.R. 869; (1700) 3 Salk. 354; [1700] 1 24–003,
WLUK 118 KB 26–002,
27–021
Groppera Radio AG v Switzerland (A/173) [1990] 3 WLUK 383;
(1990) 12 E.H.R.R. 321 ECHR 20–042
Grosvenor Hotel, London (No.2), Re [1965] Ch. 1210; [1964] 3
W.L.R. 992; [1964] 3 All E.R. 354; [1964] 7 WLUK 121; (1964)
108 S.J. 674 CA 13–002
Groves v Lord Wimborne [1898] 2 Q.B. 402; [1898] 6 WLUK 100
CA 30–032
Guaranty Trust Co of New York v Hannay & Co [1915] 2 K.B. 536;
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Guildford BC v Hein [2005] EWCA Civ 979; [2005] 7 WLUK 859;
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Guiste v Lambeth LBC [2019] EWCA Civ 1758; [2019] 10 WLUK
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H v Belgium (A/127) [1987] 11 WLUK 328; (1988) 10 E.H.R.R.
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H v Parole Board for England and Wales [2011] EWHC 2081
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H Lavender & Son Ltd v Minister of Housing and Local
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[1969] 12 WLUK 103; 68 L.G.R. 408; (1970) 114 S.J. 636 QBD 18–013
H Sabey & Co Ltd v Secretary of State for the Environment [1978]
1 All E.R. 586; [1977] 7 WLUK 21; (1977) 245 E.G. 397; 12–027
[1977] J.P.L. 661 QBD
Hadmor Productions v Hamilton [1983] 1 A.C. 191; [1982] 2
W.L.R. 322; [1982] 1 All E.R. 1042; [1982] 2 WLUK 150; 12–022,
[1982] I.C.R. 114; [1982] I.R.L.R. 102; (1982) 126 S.J. 134 HL 12–027
Halford v Sharples [1992] 1 W.L.R. 736; [1992] 3 All E.R. 624;
[1992] 3 WLUK 220; [1992] I.C.R. 583 CA (Civ Div) 13–006
Hall & Co Ltd v Shoreham-by-Sea Urban DC [1964] 1 W.L.R. 240;
[1964] 1 All E.R. 1; [1963] 11 WLUK 84; (1964) 128 J.P. 120;
62 L.G.R. 206; (1964) 15 P. & C.R. 119; (1963) 107 S.J. 1001 21–011,
CA 26–018
Hamilton, Re. See Forrest v Brighton Justices
Hammersmith & City Railway Co v Brand (1869-70) L.R. 4 H.L.
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Hammerton v Hammerton [2007] EWCA Civ 248; [2007] 3 WLUK
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Law 798 20–035
Hammond v St Pancras Vestry (1873-74) L.R. 9 C.P. 316; [1874] 4
WLUK 14 CCP 30–059
Hamnett v Essex CC [2017] EWCA Civ 6; [2017] 1 W.L.R. 1155;
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Hamsher v First Secretary of State [2004] EWHC 2299 (Admin);
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Handyside v United Kingdom (A/24) [1976] 12 WLUK 53; (1979-
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Hanks v Ministry of Housing and Local Government [1963] 1 Q.B.
999; [1962] 3 W.L.R. 1482; [1963] 1 All E.R. 47; [1962] 11
WLUK 42; (1963) 127 J.P. 78; 61 L.G.R. 76; (1964) 15 P. &
C.R. 246; [1962] R.V.R. 762; (1962) 106 S.J. 1032 QBD 19–014
Hannam v Bradford Corp [1970] 1 W.L.R. 937; [1970] 2 All E.R.
690; [1970] 3 WLUK 34; 68 L.G.R. 498; (1970) 114 S.J. 414
CA (Civ Div) 14–006
Hanson v Church Commissioners for England [1978] Q.B. 823;
[1977] 2 W.L.R. 848; [1977] 3 All E.R. 404; [1976] 11 WLUK
2; (1977) 34 P. & C.R. 158; (1976) 241 E.G. 683; [1977] J.P.L.
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Harding v Attorney General of Anguila [2018] UKPC 22; [2018] 7
WLUK 699 22–017
Hardy v Pembrokeshire CC (Permission to Appeal) [2006] EWCA
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J.P.L. 284; [2006] N.P.C. 34 27–048
Harman v Tappenden 102 E.R. 214; (1801) 1 East 555; (1801) 3
Esp. 278; [1801] 6 WLUK 31 KB 30–046
Harmon CFEM Facades (UK) Ltd v Corporate Officer of the House
of Commons [1999] 10 WLUK 904; 67 Con. L.R. 1; (2000) 2
L.G.L.R. 372 QBD (TCC) 5–030
Harper v Secretary of State for the Home Department [1955] Ch.
238; [1955] 2 W.L.R. 316; [1955] 1 All E.R. 331; [1954] 12
WLUK 85; (1955) 119 J.P. 148; 53 L.G.R. 244; (1955) 99 S.J.
95 CA 26–032
Harpin v St Albans City Council [1969] 1 WLUK 182; 67 L.G.R.
479; (1969) 113 S.J. 426 DC 24–031
Harris v Packwood 128 E.R. 105; (1810) 3 Taunt. 264; [1810] 11
WLUK 71 CCP 11–028
Harrison v Croydon LBC [1968] Ch. 479; [1967] 3 W.L.R. 100;
[1967] 2 All E.R. 589; [1967] 3 WLUK 35; 65 L.G.R. 338;
(1967) 18 P. & C.R. 486; [1967] R.A. 270; (1967) 111 S.J. 255
Ch D
26–025
Hart v Relentless Records Ltd [2002] EWHC 1984 (Ch); [2002] 10
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Hartnell v Minister of Housing and Local Government [1965] A.C.
1134; [1965] 2 W.L.R. 474; [1965] 1 All E.R. 490; [1965] 2
WLUK 14; (1965) 129 J.P. 234; 63 L.G.R. 103; (1966) 17 P. &
C.R. 60; (1965) 109 S.J. 156 HL 19–011
Hatton v United Kingdom (36022/97) [2003] 7 WLUK 212; (2003) 30–056,
37 E.H.R.R. 28; 15 B.H.R.C. 259 ECHR (Grand Chamber) 30–057
Hawke’s Bay Raw Milk Products Co-operative Ltd v New Zealand
Milk Board [1961] N.Z.L.R. 218 CA (NZ) 15–029
Hawley v Steele (1877) 6 Ch. D. 521; [1877] 7 WLUK 40 Ch D 30–055
Haydon v Kent CC [1978] Q.B. 343; [1978] 2 W.L.R. 485; [1978] 2
All E.R. 97; [1977] 11 WLUK 134; 76 L.G.R. 270; [1978] J.P.L.
30–035
174; (1977) 121 S.J. 894 CA (Civ Div)
Hazell v Hammersmith and Fulham LBC [1992] 2 A.C. 1; [1991] 2
W.L.R. 372; [1991] 1 All E.R. 545; [1991] 1 WLUK 792; 89 5–039, 5–
L.G.R. 271; (1991) 3 Admin. L.R. 549; [1991] R.V.R. 28; 046, 6–015,
(1991) 155 J.P.N. 527; (1991) 155 L.G. Rev. 527; (1991) 88(8) 19–011,
L.S.G. 36; (1991) 141 N.L.J. 127 HL 30–063
Healey v Minister of Health [1955] 1 Q.B. 221; [1954] 3 W.L.R.
815; [1954] 3 All E.R. 449; [1954] 11 WLUK 42; (1955) 119
J.P. 242; (1954) 98 S.J. 819 CA 26–021
Helle v Finland (20772/92) [1997] 12 WLUK 456; (1998) 26 12–036,
E.H.R.R. 159; [1998] H.R.C.D. 186 ECHR 12–044
Henderson (Stephen Michael) v HM Advocate [2010] HCJAC 107;
2011 J.C. 96; 2011 S.L.T. 488; 2011 S.C.L. 326; 2010 S.C.C.R.
909; [2010] 9 WLUK 90; 2010 G.W.D. 36-750 7–009
Henry Boot Homes Ltd v Bassetlaw DC [2002] EWCA Civ 983;
[2002] 11 WLUK 773; [2003] 1 P. & C.R. 23; [2002] 4 P.L.R. 22–017,
108; [2003] J.P.L. 1030; [2002] 50 E.G. 112 (C.S.); (2002) 22–045,
99(49) L.S.G. 20; (2002) 146 S.J.L.B. 277; [2002] N.P.C. 156 22–050
Hereward & Foster Ltd v Legal Services Commission [2010]
EWHC 3370 (Admin); [2010] 12 WLUK 684; [2011] Eu. L.R.
524; [2011] Eq. L.R. 150 27–048
Lonrho Plc v Secretary of State for Trade and Industry. See R. v Secretary of
State for Trade and Industry Ex p. Lonrho Plc
Lonrho Plc v Tebbit [1992] 4 All E.R. 280; [1992] 6 WLUK 93; 27–006,
[1992] B.C.C. 779; [1993] B.C.L.C. 96 CA (Civ Div) 27–009
Lord Advocate v Dumbarton DC [1990] 2 A.C. 580; [1989] 3
W.L.R. 1346; [1990] 1 All E.R. 1; 1990 S.C. (H.L.) 1; 1990
S.L.T. 158; [1989] 11 WLUK 394; (1990) 2 Admin. L.R. 429;
(1990) 87(4) L.S.G. 39; (1990) 134 S.J. 165 HL 29–002
Lord Amherst v Lord Somers. See Amherst (Lord) v Somers (Lord)
Lord Luke of Pavenham v Minister of Housing and Local
Government [1968] 1 Q.B. 172; [1967] 3 W.L.R. 801; [1967] 2
All E.R. 1066; [1967] 5 WLUK 25; (1967) 131 J.P. 425; 65
L.G.R. 393; (1967) 18 P. & C.R. 333; (1967) 111 S.J. 398 CA
(Civ Div) 9–048
Lovell v Simpson 170 E.R. 570; (1800) 3 Esp. 153; [1800] 5 WLUK
55 (Assizes) 30–062
Lucas v Lucas [1943] P. 68; [1943] 2 All E.R. 110; [1943] 4 WLUK
26 PD&D 5–049
Luke (Lord) v Minister of Housing and Local Government. See Lord Luke of
Pavenham v Minister of Housing and Local Government
Luton Community Housing Ltd v Durdana [2020] EWCA Civ 445;
[2020] 3 WLUK 366; [2020] H.L.R. 27; [2020] 2 P. & C.R.
DG7 23–009
LW v Norfolk CC [2015] UKUT 65 (AAC); [2015] 2 WLUK 234;
[2015] E.L.R. 167 9–019
M v Home Office [1994] 1 A.C. 377; [1993] 3 W.L.R. 433; [1993] 3 5–038, 29–
All E.R. 537; [1993] 7 WLUK 309; (1995) 7 Admin. L.R. 113; 005, 29–
(1993) 90(37) L.S.G. 50; (1993) 143 N.L.J. 1099; (1993) 137 006, 29–
S.J.L.B. 199 HL 008, 29–
011
M v South West London & St George’s Mental Health NHS Trust
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306 27–058
M (A Child) v Ministry of Justice [2009] EWCA Civ 419; [2009] 1
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Nilabati Bahera v State of Orissa (1993) A.I.R. 1960 Sup Ct (Ind) 30–037
Nisbet Shipping Co Ltd v Queen, The [1955] 1 W.L.R. 1031; [1955]
3 All E.R. 161; [1955] 2 Lloyd’s Rep. 173; [1955] 7 WLUK 77;
(1955) 99 S.J. 579 PC (Can) 29–004
Noon v Matthews [2014] EWHC 4330 (Admin); [2014] 12 WLUK
729; [2015] A.C.D. 53 18–002
Norris v Ireland (A/142) [1988] 10 WLUK 245; (1991) 13 E.H.R.R.
186 ECHR 25–029
Northern Ireland Human Rights Commission’s Application for
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B.H.R.C. 1 20–038
Northern Territory v Mengel (1995) 69 A.L.J.R. 527 HC (Aus) 30–047
Norton Tool Co Ltd v Tewson [1973] 1 W.L.R. 45; [1973] 1 All
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I.R.L.R. 86; (1972) 13 K.I.R. 328; [1973] I.T.R. 23; (1973) 117
S.J. 33 NIRC 12–037
Norwich City Council v Stringer [2000] 5 WLUK 25; (2001) 33
H.L.R. 15; (2000) 2 L.G.L.R. 1102 CA (Civ Div) 30–066
Norwich Pharmacal Co v Customs and Excise Commissioners
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[1973] 6 WLUK 112; [1973] F.S.R. 365; [1974] R.P.C. 101;
(1973) 117 S.J. 567 HL 13–005
Nottinghamshire CC v Secretary of State for the Environment. See R. v
Secretary of State for the Environment Ex p. Nottinghamshire CC
Nuttall v Mayor & Burgesses of Sutton LBC [2009] EWHC 294
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Nyali Ltd v Attorney General [1957] A.C. 253; [1956] 3 W.L.R.
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O’Connor v Bar Standards Board [2017] UKSC 78; [2017] 1
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O’Kelly v Trusthouse Forte Plc [1984] Q.B. 90; [1983] 3 W.L.R.
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O’Neill (Charles Bernard) v HM Advocate [2013] UKSC 36; [2013]
1 W.L.R. 1992; 2013 S.C. (U.K.S.C.) 266; 2013 S.L.T. 888;
2013 S.C.L. 678; 2013 S.C.C.R. 401; [2013] 6 WLUK 341;
[2013] 2 Cr. App. R. 34; [2013] H.R.L.R. 25; 2013 G.W.D. 21-
14–007
410
O’Reilly v Mackman [1983] 2 A.C. 237; [1982] 3 W.L.R. 1096; 12–009,
[1982] 3 All E.R. 1124; [1982] 11 WLUK 222; (1982) 126 S.J. 16–011,
820 HL 16–014,
16–025,
16–026,
16–039,
24–007,
24–027,
25–016,
26–005—
26–007,
27–005—
27–009,
27–011,
27–012,
27–016—
27–019,
27–021,
27–050,
27–052,
27–056,
28–007
O’Rourke v Camden LBC [1998] A.C. 188; [1997] 3 W.L.R. 86;
[1997] 3 All E.R. 23; [1997] 6 WLUK 223; (1997) 29 H.L.R.
793; (1997) 9 Admin. L.R. 649; (1997) 161 J.P.N. 1038; (1997) 30–034,
94(26) L.S.G. 30; (1997) 141 S.J.L.B. 139; [1997] N.P.C. 93 HL 30–035
Oakes v Sidney Sussex College (Cambridge) [1988] 1 W.L.R. 431;
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OBG Ltd v Allan [2007] UKHL 21; [2008] 1 A.C. 1; [2007] 2
W.L.R. 920; [2007] 4 All E.R. 545; [2008] 1 All E.R. (Comm)
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I.P.D. 30037; [2007] 19 E.G. 165 (C.S.); (2007) 151 S.J.L.B.
674; [2007] N.P.C. 54
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Obrey v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2013] EWCA
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Offer v Minister of Health [1936] 1 K.B. 40; [1935] 6 WLUK 39 12–004,
CA 12–046
Office of Personnel Management v Richmond 496 U.S. 414 (1990) 22–036,
Sup Ct (US) 22–044
Officer L, Re [2007] UKHL 36; [2007] 1 W.L.R. 2135; [2007] 4 All
E.R. 965; [2007] N.I. 277; [2007] 7 WLUK 880; [2007]
H.R.L.R. 42; [2007] U.K.H.R.R. 1023; 26 B.H.R.C. 169; [2007]
Inquest L.R. 214; (2007) 157 N.L.J. 1274; (2007) 151 S.J.L.B.
1061 9–058
Official Solicitor v K [1965] A.C. 201; [1963] 3 W.L.R. 408; [1963]
3 All E.R. 191; [1963] 7 WLUK 100; (1963) 107 S.J. 616 HL 12–031
Oldham MBC v Worldwide Marketing Solutions Ltd [2014] EWHC
1910 (QB); [2014] P.T.S.R. 1072; [2014] 6 WLUK 305; [2014]
B.L.G.R. 733 25–010
OLL Ltd v Secretary of State for the Home Department [1997] 3 All
E.R. 897; [1997] 6 WLUK 262; (1997) 147 N.L.J. 1099 QBD 30–009
Olotu v Secretary of State for the Home Department [1997] 1
W.L.R. 328; [1997] 1 All E.R. 385; [1996] 11 WLUK 454;
(1997) 94(1) L.S.G. 24; (1997) 141 S.J.L.B. 14 CA (Civ Div) 30–034
Olsson v Sweden (A/130) [1988] 3 WLUK 311; (1989) 11 E.H.R.R.
259 ECHR 20–042
Open Door Counselling v Ireland (A/246) [1992] 10 WLUK 368;
(1993) 15 E.H.R.R. 244 ECHR 25–029
Orange v Chief Constable of West Yorkshire [2001] EWCA Civ
611; [2002] Q.B. 347; [2001] 3 W.L.R. 736; [2001] 5 WLUK
39; [2001] Inquest L.R. 36; [2001] Prison L.R. 263; [2001] Po.
L.R. 126; (2001) 98(24) L.S.G. 44; (2001) 145 S.J.L.B. 125 30–018
Osgood v Nelson (1871-72) L.R. 5 H.L. 636; [1872] 6 WLUK 122 12–001,
HL 12–010,
12–013,
24–027
(2) 29–013
(3) 29–013
(5) 29–013
(6) 29–013
s.4 29–006
s.10 20–011,
29–013
s.17 29–005
s.21 26–004,
29–006,
29–008,
29–009
(2) 29–008
s.25(3) 29–006
(4) 29–006
s.27 5–049
s.31(1) 29–004
s.37 29–006
s.38(2) 29–008,
29–013
s.40(1) 5–043
(2)(b) 5–043
(c) 5–043
(f) 29–003,
29–013
Transport Act (c.49) 4–035
Town and Country Planning Act (c.51)
s.17(1) 26–022
1948 Local Government Act (c.26) 6–014
National Assistance Act (c.29) 20–030,
20–032
s.21 20–030
(1) 20–029,
20–032
(4) 20–032
(4)—(5) 20–029
s.26 20–029,
20–030,
27–025
Laying of Documents before Parliament (Interpretation) Act
(c.59) 15–009
Monopolies and Restrictive Practices (Inquiry and Control)
Act (c.66) 11–003
Gas Act (c.67) 4–035, 11–
031
1949 Iron and Steel Act (c.72) 4–035
Parliament Act (c.103) 3–024, 19–
004
1950 Foreign Compensation Act (c.12) 28–008
s.4(4) 28–004
1952 Prison Act (c.52) s.47(1) 20–044
1953 Post Office Act (c.36)
s.58 25–007
s.68 25–007
1956 Restrictive Trade Practices Act (c.68) 11–004
1958 Tribunals and Inquiries Act (c.66) 2–027, 9–
001, 9–006,
9–053, 12–
035, 16–
034, 28–
007
s.1(1)(c) 9–043
s.12 16–034
(1) 12–035
1961 Rating and Valuation Act (c.45) 6–014
(2) 8–029, 8–
034
(3) 8–029
(4) 8–029, 8–
030
s.8(1) 8–029
(2) 8–029
(3) 8–029
(4) 8–029
s.10(1) 8–029
(2) 8–029
(3) 8–029
(4) 8–029, 8–
030
s.11(3) 8–029
s.12(3) 8–022
Sch.2 8–017
Sch.3 8–025
1969 Transport (London) Act (c.35) 19–012
s.1 19–012
s.3 19–012
(1) 19–012
s.7(3)(b) 19–012
(6) 19–012
Children and Young Persons Act (c.54) 13–004
Parliamentary Commissioner Act (Northern Ireland) (c.10
(N.I.)) 8–016
1970 Equal Pay Act (c.41) 23–006
s.1(8) 5–047
Chronically Sick and Disabled Persons Act (c.44) 19–018
s.2(1) 19–018
1971 Misuse of Drugs Act (c.38) s.28 20–011
Tribunals and Inquiries Act (c.62) 28–007
Civil Aviation Act (c.75) 4–032
s.3(1) 4–033
(2) 4–032, 4–
033
s.4 4–033
Immigration Act (c.77) 17–029
Town and Country Planning Act (c.78) 22–037
1972 Deposit of Poisonous Waste Act (c.21) 30–060
s.2 30–060
National Health Service (Scotland) Act (c.58) 8–040
Gas Act (c.60) 11–031
European Communities Act (c.68) s.2(2) 15–028
Local Government Act (c.70) 6–002, 6–
003, 18–
010
s.82 14–010
s.92 26–034
s.94 14–010
s.97 14–010
s.101 18–010
s.102 18–010
s.111 5–039
s.135 5–020
s.161 22–044
s.222 25–010
1973 Land Compensation Act (c.26) 30–056,
30–060,
30–072
s.1 30–056
(2) 30–056
(6) 30–056
(8) 30–056
s.4 30–056
ss.5—6 30–056
National Health Service Reorganisation Act (c.32) 8–040
Fair Trading Act (c.41) 11–013,
11–014
s.50 11–004
s.51 11–004
s.56 11–013
s.64(1)(a) 16–027
s.73 11–013
s.76 11–004
s.81(2) 11–007
s.84 11–009
s.88 11–013
1974 Local Government Act (c.7) 6–015, 8–
041
s.23(12A) 8–043
s.25 8–041
s.26(5) 8–041
(6) 8–041
(7) 8–041
(8) 8–041
s.26C 8–041
ss.28—30 8–041
s.30 8–041
s.31 8–041
s.34(1) 8–041
Sch.5 8–041
Housing Act (c.44) 16–023
1975 Social Security Act (c.14) 24–003
(3C) 12–023,
27–004
(3D) 12–023,
27–004
(3E) 12–023,
27–004
(3F) 12–023,
27–004
(4) 27–004,
30–061
(5) 26–011
(5)—(5A) 27–054
(5B) 27–054
(6) 22–051,
22–052,
27–047,
27–049
s.31A 9–026, 27–
003, 27–
054
s.37 26–033,
26–036
s.42 27–040
British Nationality Act (c.61)
s.44 12–039
Broadcasting Act (c.68) 19–022,
21–017
1982 Civil Aviation Act (c.16) s.6 4–034
Oil and Gas (Enterprise) Act (c.23) 11–032
1983 National Audit Act (c.44) 3–012
1984 Telecommunications Act (c.12) 4–040, 4–
042, 11–
045
Pt III 4–040
s.1 4–040
s.2 4–040
s.3 4–040
s.5 4–040
s.7 4–040
s.8 4–040
s.9 4–040
s.12 4–040
s.13 4–040
s.16 4–040
s.18(6) 4–040
(8) 4–040
s.27 4–042
s.27A 4–042
s.27B 4–042
s.27C 4–042
s.27D 4–042
s.27E 4–042
s.50 4–040
Housing and Building Control Act (c.29) 6–010
Rates Act (c.33) 6–
6–015 s.2 015
Data Protection Act (c.35) 8–003
Police and Criminal Evidence Act (c.60)
Pt IX 13–010
s.64(1A) 20–014
1985 Local Government (Access to Information) Act (c.43) 8–003
Local Government Act (c.51) 6–003
Housing Act (c.68) 30–034
s.63 30–034
1986 Gas Act (c.44) 11–036—
11–040,
11–045
s.1 11–036
s.2 11–036
s.3 11–036
s.4 11–036
s.4AA 11–040
s.7 11–036,
11–040
(7) 11–039
(9) 11–036,
11–038
s.8 11–036
s.9 11–040
(2) 11–038
s.10(5) 11–038
s.14 11–038
s.19 11–036
s.23 11–039
s.24 11–039
s.26 11–039
s.28 11–039
s.29 11–039
s.30 11–039
s.31 11–039
s.33A 11–045
s.33B 11–045
ss.33C—33D 11–045
ss.34—35 11–039
s.38 11–039
ss.49—61 11–037
1987 Local Government Finance Act (c.6)
ss.1—5 6–015
s.6 6–015
s.7 6–015
s.8 6–015
Crown Proceedings (Armed Forces) Act (c.25)
s.1 29–013
s.2 29–013
Access to Personal Files Act (c.37) 8–003
Criminal Justice Act (c.38) 19–019
1988 Income and Corporation Taxes Act (c.1) 20–019
s.262 20–019
Local Government Act (c.9) 5–024, 6–
010
s.2 5–024
s.17 5–021
(5) 5–021—5–
023
(e) 5–022
(11) 5–023
s.20 5–021
s.29 8–041
Sch.3 para.5 8–041
Criminal Justice Act (c.33) Pt VII 30–078
Education Reform Act (c.40) 6–010
Local Government Finance Act (c.41) 6–014
Road Traffic Act (c.52)
s.38(7) 15–042
1989 Electricity Act (c.29) 17–
11–045 013,
Children 20–
Act (c.41) 013
s.17 30–019
s.38 20–013
s.47 30–019
Local Government and Housing Act (c.42)
s.26 8–041
1990 Town and Country Planning Act (c.8) 9–061
Pt III 9–062
s.11 9–061
s.12 9–061
s.13 9–061
s.20 9–061
s.30 9–061
s.31 9–061
s.33 9–061
s.35 9–061
s.36 9–061
ss.39—42 9–061
s.77 14–015
s.78 9–054, 14–
015
s.79 14–015
ss.82—87 9–062
ss.88—90 9–062
s.101 9–055
s.183 23–018
s.288 17–020
s.319A 9–054
Sch.6 9–054
Sch.8 9–055
National Health Service and Community Care Act (c.19)
s.47 27–025
Government Trading Act (c.30) 4–014
Courts and Legal Services Act (c.41) 8–016
1990 Import and Export Control Act (c.45) 15–003
1991 Water Industry Act (c.56) 11–045
1992 Social Security Contributions and Benefits Act (c.4) 15–024
Local Government Finance Act (c.14) 6–014
Pt I Ch.IVA 6–015
ss.52ZB—52ZI 6–014
Local Government Act (c.19) 5–024, 6–
004, 6–010
Competition and Service (Utilities) Act (c.43) 4–042, 4–
043, 11–
043, 11–
045
Pt I 11–045
s.5 4–042
s.6 4–042
s.37 11–036
Tribunals and Inquiries Act (c.53) 9–003, 9–
006, 9–050,
9–053, 28–
003
s.1(1)(c) 9–059
ss.1—2 9–006
s.8 9–006, 9–
030
s.9 9–044, 9–
051
s.10 9–006, 9–
030, 9–033
(1) 12–035
(b) 9–050
(4) 9–053
(5)(b) 15–017
s.11 9–006
s.12 9–006, 28–
007, 28–
011
(1) 28–007
(3) 28–007
s.16(1)(b) 9–053
(2) 9–053
Sch.1 9–006
Civil Service (Management Functions) Act (c.61) 4–018
1993 Asylum and Immigration Appeals Act (c.23) 15–024
Education Act (c.35) 19–018
s.298 19–018
Health Service Commissioners Act (c.46)
s.2 8–040
s.2A 8–040
s.3 8–040
1994 Deregulation and Contracting Out Act (c.40) 5–015, 5–
016, 11–
023, 15–
003, 15–
014, 18–
008
Pt II 5–015, 18–
008, 18–
009
s.69 5–015, 18–
008, 18–
009
(5)(c) 5–015, 18–
008
s.70 5–015, 18–
008
s.71 5–015
(1) 18–008
(3) 18–008
s.72(2) 5–015, 18–
009
(3)(a) 5–015, 18–
009
(b) 5–015, 18–
009
1995 Gas Act (c.45) 11–040
Disability Discrimination Act (c.50) 23–006
s.49A 10–014,
23–007
s.64 5–047
Criminal Injuries Compensation Act (c.53) 30–078
s.5(1) 9–026
1996 Employment Rights Act (c.18) 5–050
s.94 5–050
s.191 5–050
s.193 5–050
Housing Act (c.52)
Pt VII 12–018
Statutory Instruments (Production and Sale) Act (c.54) 15–006
1997 Civil Procedure Act (c.12) 9–031
Local Government (Contracts) Act (c.65) 5–046
s.1(1) 5–046
(2) 5–046
s.2 5–046
s.4 5–046
s.5 5–046
(3) 5–046
s.6 5–046
s.7 5–046
1998 Public Interest Disclosure Act (c.23)
s.10 5–050
Data Protection Act (c.29) 8–003
Government of Wales Act (c.38) 7–001, 7–
029, 7–032,
7–033, 7–
037, 7–038,
7–046
s.22 7–037, 7–
046
ss.53—56 7–032
Competition Act (c.41) 4–042, 11–
004, 11–
006, 11–
008, 11–
010, 11–
013, 11–
014, 11–
046
s.1 11–004
s.2 11–008,
11–010
(1) 11–006
s.3 11–014
s.6 11–010,
11–014
ss.7—11 11–010
s.17 11–004
s.18 11–006
s.19 11–014
s.25 11–004
ss.25—31 11–008
ss.32—33 11–013
ss.35—36 11–013
s.46 11–008
s.49 11–008
s.54 4–040, 4–
042, 11–
046
Sch.8 para.9 11–008
1998 Competition Act (c.41)—continued
Sch.10 4–040, 4–
042, 11–
046
Human Rights Act (c.42) 1–019, 1–
025, 5–016,
7–008, 9–
030, 9–036,
10–001,
10–015,
10–016,
10–028,
11–034,
12–016,
12–036,
12–044,
13–011,
13–016,
14–001,
14–012,
14–021,
15–003,
19–001,
19–004,
19–007,
19–009,
19–021,
20–001—
20–009,
20–015—
20–017,
20–020,
20–022—
20–029,
20–031—
20–038,
20–040,
20–041,
20–044,
20–045,
20–051,
20–053—
20–056,
20–058,
20–060,
20–062,
21–001,
21–012,
21–015,
21–017,
21–019,
21–020,
21–023,
21–026,
21–031,
21–032,
21–034,
21–039,
23–001,
23–004,
23–005,
23–008,
23–010,
23–011,
23–019,
23–020,
25–029,
25–030,
27–013,
27–036,
27–053,
27–057,
28–005,
28–010,
28–012,
30–001,
30–031,
30–036,
30–038,
30–039,
30–041—
30–043,
30–056,
30–057,
30–060
s.1 20–003
s.2 12–016,
20–004,
20–062
s.3 12–016,
14–015,
20–001,
20–006,
20–009—
20–022,
20–034,
20–062
(1) 20–012
(2) 20–007
(a) 20–006
(b) 20–006
(c) 20–006
ss.3—4 11–034,
20–041
(5) 20–037,
27–013
(6) 20–037,
25–029
(7) 20–038
(9) 20–037
(11) 20–039
s.8 30–037,
30–038,
30–040,
30–041,
30–043
(1) 20–039,
20–040,
30–037
(2) 20–040,
30–037
(3) 20–040,
30–037
(4) 30–037,
30–042,
30–043
(6) 20–039
s.9 20–037
(1) 20–037
(2) 20–037
(3) 30–039
(5) 20–037
s.10 15–003,
20–008
(2) 20–008
s.12(3) 26–030
s.19 20–006
(1)(a) 20–006
(b) 20–006
1998 Human Rights Act (c.42)—continued
s.20 20–008
Sch.1 20–003
Sch.2 para.1(1) 20–008
(2) 20–008
para.2(a) 20–008
(b) 20–008
para.3 20–008
para.4 20–008
para.5 20–008
Scotland Act (c.46) 7–001, 7–
003, 7–005,
7–006, 7–
008—7–
011, 7–013
—7–017,
7–019, 7–
020, 7–022,
7–023, 7–
025, 7–026
s.1 7–003
(2) 7–003
(3) 7–003
s.2(2) 7–003
s.6 7–003
s.11(1) 7–003
s.19 7–004
s.20 7–004
s.21(2) 7–004
(3) 7–004
s.22(1) 7–004
s.28 7–006
(7) 7–006, 7–
009
(8) 7–006
s.29 7–009
(1) 7–006
(2) 7–007
(b) 7–008
(c) 7–008
(3) 7–008
(4) 7–008
s.30A 7–006
s.31(1) 7–007
(2) 7–007
(2A) 7–006
(4) 7–006
(5) 7–006
s.31A 7–006
s.32(2) 7–018
(3) 7–018
s.32A 7–018
s.33(1) 7–018
(2) 7–018
s.35 7–016
s.36(1) 7–006
s.39 7–004
s.44(1) 7–004
(2) 7–004
s.45 7–004, 7–
014
s.46(1) 7–004
s.47 7–014
(1)—(2) 7–004
s.48 7–004
s.51 7–004
s.52(1) 7–010
(1)—(3) 7–010
(6) 7–014
(7) 7–010
ss.52—54 7–013
s.53(1) 7–010, 7–
014
(2) 7–010
(c) 7–010
(3) 7–013
s.54(2)—(3) 7–010
ss.56—57 7–010
s.57(2) 7–010
(4)—(5) 7–010
s.58 7–016
(1)—(2) 7–016
(4) 7–016
s.59 7–004
s.60(1) 7–014
s.63 7–010
s.63A 7–003
s.91 8–016
s.98 7–017
s.101 7–017
(2) 7–017
(3) 7–017
s.102 7–026
(2) 7–023
(b) 24–023
(3) 7–023
(4) 7–023
s.104 7–013, 7–
014
ss.104—105 7–014
ss.104—107 7–014
s.105 7–013, 7–
014
s.106 7–010
(1) 7–014
s.107 7–013, 7–
014, 7–023
s.108 7–010
(1) 7–014
s.112 7–014
(1) 7–014
(5) 7–014
s.117 7–012, 7–
014
s.118(1) 7–012
(2) 7–015
s.126 7–013
Sch.1 para.1 7–003
para.2 7–003
Sch.2 para.4(1) 7–004
Sch.3 7–004
para.3(1) 7–004
Sch.4 7–008, 7–
009
para.1 7–008
para.2(1) 7–008
(2) 7–008
para.3(1) 7–008
para.7(1) 7–008
paras 12—14 7–010
Sch.5 7–008, 7–
009
Pt I 7–008
para.1 7–008
para.2 7–008
para.6 7–008
para.7 7–008
paras 8—10 7–008
Pt II 7–008
paras C1—C16 7–008
para.D1 7–008
para.E1 7–008
para.E3 7–008
para.F1 7–008
Pt III 7–008
para.3 7–008
Sch.6 7–017, 7–
022
para.1 7–017
para.4 7–019
(3) 7–020
paras 5—6 7–018
para.15 7–019
(3) 7–020
paras 16—17 7–018
para.18 7–020
para.19 7–020
para.20 7–020
para.21 7–020
para.22 7–020
para.23 7–020
para.25 7–019
(3) 7–020
paras 26—27 7–018
para.33 7–018
paras 34—35 7–018
Sch.7 7–015
para.1 7–015
(2) 7–013, 7–
023
para.2 7–013
1999 Disability Rights Commission Act (c.17) 23–006
Youth Justice and Criminal Evidence
Act (c.23) 20–011
s.41 20–010
Employment Relations Act (c.26)
Sch.8 5–050
Local Government Act (c.27) 5–025—5–
027, 6–011,
6–015, 6–
021
Pt I 6–021
s.1 5–025
s.3(1) 5–025
s.4 5–025
s.5(1) 5–025
s.6(1) 5–025
s.19 5–021
s.21 5–025
Sch.1 6–015, 6–
021
Greater London Authority Act (c.29) 6–003, 6–
006
Welfare Reform and Pensions Act (c.30) 23–019
Immigration and Asylum Act (c.33) 20–011,
22–020
House of Lords Act (c.34) 3–024
s.1 3–024
s.2 3–024
s.3 3–024
2000 Terrorism Act (c.11)
s.11(1) 20–014
(2) 20–014
Care Standards Act (c.14) 14–020
s.82(4) 14–020
Local Government Act (c.22) 6–005, 6–
006, 6–021
Pt III 6–021
s.2 5–039
s.9BA 6–005, 6–
006
s.9C 6–006
ss.9E—9EB 6–006
ss.9F—9FE 6–006
s.9G 6–006
s.9GA 6–006
ss.9H—9HE 6–006
ss.9K—9MG 6–006
s.9N 6–006
s.9P 6–006
Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act (c.23)
s.65(2)(a) 28–005
s.67(8) 28–004,
28–005
Utilities Act (c.27) 11–040,
11–041
ss.90—91 11–045
ss.90—96 11–045
s.94 11–045
Race Relations (Amendment) Act (c.34) 23–006
Freedom of Information Act (c.36) 4–029, 8–
004—8–
009
Pt II 8–005, 8–
008
s.1 8–008, 8–
009
(1) 8–005
(3) 8–005
s.2 8–005
s.3 8–006
s.5 8–006
s.7 8–006
s.9 8–005
s.10 8–005
s.12 8–005
s.14 8–005
s.18 8–009
s.19 8–007
s.20 8–007
ss.21—22 8–008
ss.23—24 8–008
ss.47—49 8–009
ss.50—51 8–009
s.52 8–009
s.53 8–009
s.54 8–009
ss.57—61 8–009
Sch.1 8–006
2000 Political Parties, Elections and Referendums Act (c.41) 8–012
2001 Regulatory Reform Act (c.6) 11–023,
15–003,
15–014,
15–015
Anti-terrorism, Crime and Security Act (c.24) 20–014
s.21 23–017
s.23 13–016,
20–014,
23–017
2002 Enterprise Act (c.40) 11–004
2003 Communications Act (c.21) 4–042, 11–
045
ss.65—72 11–024
s.319 15–042
s.325 15–042
Local Government Act (c.26) 6–021
Extradition Act (c.41) 8–025
2004 Planning and Compulsory Purchase Act (c.5) 9–061
Hunting Act (c.37) 20–053
2005 Prevention of Terrorism Act (c.2) 12–022,
13–015—
13–018
s.2 12–022,
13–016
(1) 13–016
s.3 13–016
Constitutional Reform Act (c.4) 9–025, 13–
021
Sch.2 Pt 1 9–025
Sch.11 para.1 25–013,
26–001,
27–002
Inquiries Act (c.12) 9–001, 9–
056—9–
058
s.1 9–057
s.2 9–057
s.5 9–057
ss.8—9 9–057
s.15 9–057
s.17 9–058
s.18 9–058
s.19 9–058
s.21 9–058
s.24 9–058
ss.25—26 9–058
2006 Commons Act (c.26) 18–026,
18–027 18–
s.15 026
Government of Wales Act (c.32) 7–001, 7–
029, 7–031
—7–034,
7–036—7–
038, 7–040,
7–041, 7–
045, 7–046
Pt 3 7–035
Pt 4 7–036
s.A1 7–030
s.A2 7–030
s.1 7–030
(2) 7–030
s.2(2) 7–030
(4) 7–030
s.3(1) 7–030
s.6 7–030
(3) 7–030
(4) 7–030
(5) 7–030
s.25 7–031
s.26 7–031
s.27 7–031
ss.28—30 7–031
s.31 7–031
(5) 7–031
s.35(1) 7–031
(2) 7–031
s.36 7–031
s.45 7–032
s.46 7–032
s.47(1) 7–032
s.48 7–032
ss.49—50 7–032
s.51 7–032
s.56 7–033
s.57 7–033
s.58 7–033
s.58A 7–033
s.60 7–033
s.61 7–033
ss.72—75 7–033
ss.76—79 7–033
s.80 7–033
s.81 7–033
s.82 7–033
s.93 7–035
(5) 7–035
s.94(1) 7–035
(2) 7–035
(4) 7–035
(5) 7–035
(6) 7–035
s.106(1) 7–035
s.107(5)—(6) 7–036
ss.107—108A 7–036
s.108A 7–036, 7–
046
s.150 7–045
s.151 7–045
s.153 7–045
(2) 7–045
(3) 7–045
(4)—(6) 7–045
Sch.5 Pt 1 7–035
Pt 2 7–035
Pt 3 7–035
Sch.7A 7–036
Sch.9 7–044
para.1(1) 7–038
(2) 7–041
para.2 7–038
para.4 7–040
para.5(1) 7–039
(2) 7–039
para.6 7–041
para.7(1) 7–041
(2) 7–041
para.8 7–042
para.9 7–041
para.10 7–042
para.11 7–042
para.29(1) 7–039
para.30(1) 7–039
(2) 7–039
Sch.11 para.30 7–037
para.31 7–037
Legislative and Regulatory Reform Act (c.51) 11–023,
15–014,
15–015
s.12 15–014
s.13 15–014
s.14 15–014
s.15 15–014
(6) 15–014
s.16 15–015
(4)—(5) 15–015
s.17(3)—(4) 15–015
s.18 15–015
2007 Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act (c.15) 9–001, 9–
003, 9–010,
9–012, 9–
013, 9–016
—9–019,
9–025, 9–
027—9–
031, 9–033,
9–059, 16–
028, 16–
033, 27–
003, 27–
045, 27–
054, 27–
062
s.2 9–011
(3) 9–011
s.3 9–012
(5) 9–029, 16–
028
ss.4—5 9–012
s.7 9–012
(1) 9–011
(9) 9–011
s.8 9–011
s.9 9–018, 9–
026
(1) 9–018
s.10 9–018
s.11 9–019, 9–
027
(5) 9–018, 9–
019
(b) 9–026
(c) 9–026
(f) 9–019, 9–
026
(6) 9–019
ss.11—14 27–045
s.12 9–019
(2) 9–019
s.13 9–020, 9–
021, 16–
032
(1) 9–029, 16–
028
(6) 9–020, 9–
029, 16–
028
(6)—(7) 9–028
(7) 9–020
(8) 9–020
(c) 9–029, 16–
028
(12) 9–020
s.14 9–021
(2) 9–021
(b) 9–021
(5) 9–021
ss.14A—14C 9–021
s.15 9–025, 16–
032, 27–
003
(1) 9–025
(5A)—(5B) 12–023,
27–004
ss.15—19 27–054
ss.15—21 27–045
s.16 9–025
(3C)—(3G) 12–023,
27–004
(6) 9–025
(8) 9–025
s.17 9–026
s.18 9–025, 9–
026
(3) 9–026
(4) 9–025
(5) 9–025
(6) 9–025, 9–
026
(8) 9–025
(9) 9–026
s.19 9–026, 27–
003
ss.20—21 9–026
s.22 9–031, 9–
032
(4) 9–031
s.23 9–011, 9–
031
s.24 9–034
(1) 9–034
s.26 9–012
s.27 9–012
s.28 9–012
s.29 9–012
s.30 9–013
(5)—(8) 9–013
s.31 9–013
ss.32—34 9–013
s.37 9–013
s.39 9–014
s.40 9–014
s.42(5) 9–011
s.43 9–011
s.44 9–035
ss.44—45 9–059
s.45 9–035
s.49 9–020
Sch.1 9–011
Sch.2 para.2(2) 9–011
para.6(2) 9–011
para.8 9–011
Schs 2—3 9–012
Sch.3 para.2(2) 9–011
para.6(2) 9–011
para.9 9–011
Sch.4 9–012
Sch.5 9–031
Pt 1 9–031
Pt 2 9–031
Pt 3 9–031
Pt 4 9–031
Sch.6 9–013
Pts 1—4 9–013
Sch.7 9–037
para.1(1) 9–059
para.13(1)—(2) 9–037
(4) 9–037
para.15 9–037
paras 15—16 9–059
Greater London Authority Act (c.24) 6–003, 6–
006
Local Government and Public Involvement in Health Act 5–025—5–
(c.28) 027, 6–004,
6–005, 6–
011
ss.1—23 6–004
ss.103—114 5–026
ss.139—140 5–025
Legal Services Act (c.29)
ss.114—115 8–016
s.159 8–016
2008 Regulatory Enforcement and Sanctions Act (c.13) 11–046
Health and Social Care Act (c.14) 20–032
s.145 20–032
Counter-Terrorism Act (c.28) 13–015
Planning Act (c.29) 9–061
2009 Parliamentary Standards Act (c.13) 8–015
Local Democracy, Economic Development and Construction
Act (c.20) 6–021
ss.103—113D 6–004
ss.107A—107F 6–006
2010 Equality Act (c.15) 10–001,
10–014,
10–028,
23–001,
23–006
s.1 10–014,
23–007
s.149 10–014,
10–015,
23–007—
23–009
(1) 10–015,
23–007—
23–009
(2) 23–007
(3) 23–007
(7) 10–014,
23–007
s.150(5) 10–015,
23–008
s.153 10–015,
23–008
s.155 10–015,
23–008
s.156 10–015,
23–008
Sch.19 10–015,
23–008
Constitutional Reform and Governance
Act (c.25) 19–005
Pt 1 5–047
s.9 8–003
Local Government Act (c.35) 6–004
2011 Localism Act (c.20) 5–027, 6–
005, 6–006,
6–012, 6–
014, 6–017,
6–021
s.1 5–039, 6–
012
ss.15—18 6–012
s.81 6–012
ss.83—84 6–012
s.87 6–012
ss.95—98 6–012
r.52.8(5) 27–053
(6) 27–053
r.52.11(2) 17–012
Pt 54 25–013,
27–002,
27–041,
27–052—
27–054,
27–056,
27–060,
29–010
Pt I 27–004
r.54.1(2)(a) 27–004
(e) 29–010
(f) 25–032
r.54.2 27–004
r.54.3(1) 26–028,
26–036,
27–004
(2) 27–004,
30–061
r.54.4 27–041,
27–053
r.54.5 27–047—
27–049,
27–053
(1) 27–046
(a) 27–048
(2) 27–046
(3) 27–046
r.54.6 27–053
rr.54.6—54.9 27–041
r.54.7 27–053
r.54.8(2)(a) 27–053
(b) 27–053
(4) 27–053
r.54.9(1) 27–053
r.54.10 27–053
r.54.12(2) 27–053
(3) 27–053
r.54.13 27–053
r.54.14 27–054
r.54.15 27–054
r.54.16 27–054
r.54.17 25–032,
27–054
r.54.18 27–054
r.54.19(2) 26–011
(3) 26–011
r.54.20 27–054
PD 54A 27–053
paras 5.6—5.7 27–053
para.12.1 27–056
para.17 27–055
Pt 76 13–016
rr.82.10—82.11 13–026
1999 National Assembly for Wales (Transfer of Functions) Order
(SI 1999/672) 7–033
Scotland Act 1998 (Consequential Modifications) (No.2) 7–013
Order (SI 1999/1820)
2000 Town and Country Planning (Inquiries Procedure) (England) 9–044, 9–
Rules (SI 2000/1624) 051
r.17(5) 14–017
Town and Country Planning Appeals (Determination by
Inspectors) (Inquiries Procedure) (England) Rules (SI
2000/1625) 9–051
r.19 9–047
Town and Country Planning (Hearings Procedure) (England) 9–044, 9–
Rules (SI 2000/1626) 051
r.9 9–046
r.11 9–045
r.13 9–048
Scotland Act 1998 (Consequential Modifications) Order (SI
2000/2040) 7–013
Civil Procedure (Amendment No.4) Rules (SI 2000/2092) 25–032,
26–011,
26–028,
26–036,
27–002
2001 Local Government Best Value (Exclusion of Non-
commercial Considerations) Order (SI 2001/909) 5–021
Scotland Act 1998 (Consequential Modifications) Order (SI
2001/1400) 7–013
2002 Town and Country Planning (Enforcement) (Hearings
Procedure) (England) Rules (SI 2002/2684) 9–044
2004 Civil Procedure (Modification of Supreme Court Act 1981) Order (SI
2004/1033)
art.3 26–001,
27–004
Freedom of Information and Data Protection (Appropriate Limit and
Fees) Regulations (SI 2004/3244)
reg.3 8–005
2007 Regulatory Reform (Collaboration etc. between
8–044
Ombudsmen) Order (SI 2007/1889)
Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007
(Commencement No.1) Order (SI 2007/2709) 9–011
Compulsory Purchase (Inquiries Procedure) Rules (SI
2007/3617) 9–044
2008 Appeals from the Upper Tribunal to the Court of Appeal
Order (SI 2008/2834)
9–020
2009 Town and Country Planning (Appeals) (Written
Representations Procedure) (England) Regulations (SI
2009/452) 9–054
reg.6 9–054
reg.13 9–054
2011 Government of Wales Act 2006 (Commencement of
Assembly Act Provisions, Transitional and Saving
Provisions and Modifications) Order (SI 2011/1011) 7–036
Criminal Procedure Rules (SI 2011/1709) 13–014
2013 Public Bodies (Abolition of Administrative Justice and
Tribunals Council) Order (SI 2013/2042) 9–037
2015 Public Contracts Regulations (SI 2015/102) 5–030, 5–
032
regs 5—6 5–030
regs 27—30 5–030
reg.55 5–030
reg.56 5–030
reg.58 5–030
regs 67—69 5–030
regs 85—104 5–030
regs 97—98 5–030
Town and Country Planning (Hearings and Inquiries
Procedure) (England) (Amendment and Revocation)
Rules (SI 2015/316) 9–044
2016 Utilities Contracts Regulations (SI 2016/274) 5–030
2019 Public Procurement (Amendment etc.) (EU Exit)
Regulations (SI 2019/560) 5–030
Public Procurement (Amendment etc.) (EU Exit) (No.2)
Regulations (SI 2019/623) 5–030
TABLE OF EU AND INTERNATIONAL
LEGISLATION
EU Treaties and Conventions
Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union 10–029,
10–030,
20–066,
20–067,
21–044,
23–021,
23–022
Ch.III 23–021
art.51(2) 20–066
art.52(2) 20–067
Treaty on European Union art.6(1) 20–066,
23–021
Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU)
art.18 23–021
art.19 23–021
art.45 23–021
art.49 23–021
art.56 23–021
art.101 11–006
art.102 11–006
art.157 23–021
art.264 24–023
(2) 24–023
art.296 12–034
1957 Treaty establishing the European Economic Community 5–029, 5–
032
2007 Treaty of Lisbon amending the Treaty on European Union
and the Treaty establishing the European Community 20–066
EU Regulations
2016 Reg.2016/679 on the protection of natural persons with 10–006,
regard to the processing of personal data and on the free 10–009—
movement of such data (GDPR) [2016] OJ L119/1 10–013,
10–016,
10–028—
10–030
Recital 42 10–011
Recital 43 10–011
Recital 71 10–010,
10–011
art.5 10–012
(1)(a) 10–012
(b) 10–012
(c) 10–012
(d) 10–012
(e) 10–012
(f) 10–012
art.6 10–012
(1) 10–013
art.9 10–011
art.13 10–010,
10–012,
10–013
(2)(f) 10–010
art.14 10–010,
10–012,
10–013
art.15 10–010,
10–013
(1)(h) 10–010
art.16 10–013
art.17 10–013
art.21 10–013
(1) 10–013
(2)—(3) 10–013
art.22 10–010,
10–012,
10–013
(1) 10–011
(2) 10–011
(b) 10–011
(3) 10–011
(4) 10–011
art.35 10–013
EU Directives
1971 Dir.71/305 on procedures for the award of public works
contracts [1971] OJ L185/5 5–029
1977 Dir.77/62 on procedures for the award of public supply
contracts [1977] OJ L13/1 5–029
1989 Dir.89/665 on the application of review procedures to the
award of public supply and public works contracts [1989] 5–029, 5–
OJ L395/33 030
1992 Dir.92/50 on procedures for the award of public service
contracts [1992] OJ L209/1 5–029
1993 Dir.93/36 on procedures for the award of public supply
contracts [1993] OJ L199/1 5–029
Dir.93/37 on procedures for the award of public works
contracts [1993] OJ L199/54 5–029
Dir.93/38 on the procurement procedures of entities
operating in the water, energy, transport and
telecommunications sectors [1993] OJ L199/84 5–029
2004 Dir.2004/17 on the procurement procedures of entities
operating in the water, energy, transport and postal
services sectors [2004] OJ L134/1 5–029
Dir.2004/18 on procedures for the award of public works
contracts, public supply contracts and public service
contracts [2004] OJ L134/114
5–029
(2) 20–011
(3)(c) 12–033
art.8 10–013,
10–016,
20–020,
20–028—
20–030,
20–036,
20–044,
20–061,
21–004,
23–018,
23–019,
30–039,
30–040,
30–056,
30–057
arts 8—11 20–061
art.9 20–049
art.10 20–042,
20–050,
20–055,
28–005
art.11 20–042
art.12 23–017
art.13 30–031
art.14 13–016,
20–003,
20–020,
23–001,
23–005,
23–010—
23–015,
23–017—
23–019
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
1–001 i. There is considerable diversity of opinion concerning the nature
and purpose of administrative law.1 Description and prescription
are not easily separated. For some, it is the law relating to the
control of government power. Others place greater emphasis on
rules designed to ensure that the administration effectively
performs the tasks assigned to it. Yet others see the principal
objective of administrative law as ensuring governmental
accountability, and fostering participation by interested parties in
the decision-making process.
ii. None of these are right or wrong in some absolute sense. They are
however, incomplete. An understanding of the nature and purpose
of administrative law requires us to probe further into the way in
which our society is ordered. It requires the articulation of the
type of democratic society in which we live and some vision of
the political theory which that society espouses. The role of more
particular legal topics that constitute administrative law, such as
natural justice and judicial review, can only be adequately
assessed within such a framework.
iii. Concepts such as accountability, participation and rights do not
possess only one meaning, which can be discerned by a purely
“factual” inquiry. Nor can the place of such ideas be understood
by pointing to their general connections with a democratic
society. The meaning and importance of such concepts will differ
depending on the type of democratic regime within which they
subsist. Or to put the same point in a different way, every
democratic society will have some ideas of rights, participation
and accountability, but these will differ depending on the nature
of that society. An attempt to discuss particular topics without
considering these background ideas evidences a series of implicit
assumptions about such ideas that are concealed and untested.
The legislature and the courts are both important in determining the
iv.
nature and shape of administrative law. The legislature
enacts the policies that are directly constitutive of the
administrative state. The legislature chooses whether these
policies should be imbued with, for example, a market-oriented
neoliberal philosophy, or with one which is more social
democratic in its orientation. In this sense, the shape of
administrative law is affected by the philosophy that underlies
government policy. The courts
also have a major influence on the nature of the subject. They
decide what particular constraints to impose on administrative
action, and more generally on the overall purpose of judicial
review. Administrative law, when viewed in this way, is always a
combination of the political world, combined with the reactions
of the judiciary.
v. This chapter begins by considering the Diceyan underpinnings of
the traditional model of administrative law based on unitary
democracy and the ultra vires model. The implications of this
model for central tenets of judicial review are revealed, as are the
deficiencies of the model, and there is an overview of the debate
concerning the foundations of judicial review. The discussion
then turns to rights-based conceptions of administrative law. The
meaning of this conception is analysed, and the conceptual
foundation for this vision of administrative law is considered. It
has not gone unchallenged. The views of critics are explained and
there is a response to these critiques. The remainder of the chapter
is devoted to showing how different background conceptions of
society can have a marked impact on the shape and nature of
administrative law.
A. Meaning
1–002 It is important to clarify terminology at the outset. “Ultra vires” is
indicative that action is beyond power. It is an important element in all
systems of administrative law and it is self-evident that the enabling
legislation must be considered when determining the ambit of a body’s
powers. Thus, if an administrative agency is accorded authority over
employees it cannot assume power over those who are not employees.
This is not, however, the same thing as saying that the heads of review,
their meaning or the intensity with which they are applied at any one
point in time, or across time, can or must be justified by legislative
intent, as opposed to being regarded as a common law creation of the
courts. It is this issue which, as will be seen below, divides academic
opinion in the debate about the foundations of judicial review.
1–005 The model outlined above shaped the form of judicial intervention in
the following way. There is a distinction between appeal and review.
The former is concerned with the merits of the case; the appeal court
can substitute its opinion for that of the initial decision-maker; appeals
can lie on fact and law, or simply on law; and appeal rights are
statutory, the courts having no inherent appellate jurisdiction. Review
is, at least in theory, different from this being concerned not
with the merits of the decision, but with its “validity”; and judicial
review is not based upon statute, but on an inherent jurisdiction within
the superior courts.
This inherent power was by no means novel, and the texts of early
administrative cases were replete with the language of review and
jurisdiction. The original rationale for this inherent jurisdiction was
linked to the rationale for judicial review: judicial desire to control
inferior agencies and to protect the individual from illegalities
committed by them. Nonetheless, the development of the traditional
model in the 19th century strengthened the rationale for this inherent
jurisdiction, and reinforced the division between review and appeal.
All grants of power by Parliament can be expressed in the
following terms: if X exists, you may or shall do Y. For example, if an
employee is injured at work a tribunal may or shall grant
compensation. The inherent jurisdiction of the court was strengthened
by the insistence that it was simply deciding whether X existed, and
what considerations could be taken into account when determining Y.
The courts, it could now be argued, must possess this inherent
jurisdiction to safeguard the legislative monopoly of Parliament.
The judiciary began to justify the exercise of jurisdictional control
more explicitly in terms of ensuring that the tribunal did not extend the
area over which the legislature granted it jurisdiction. Conflicting
cases were reconciled by reasoning that the legislature intended
differing agencies to possess different amounts of power.7 This
explanation was unconvincing, since reference to the particular
statutes in the conflicting cases gave no indication that the results
could be reconciled by differences in legislative intent. The
questionable nature of the reasoning did not destroy the utility of the
conceptual tool. The courts acquired a malleable tool through which to
justify intervention with administrative behaviour. The flexibility
inherent in the idea of legislative intent preserved the veneer that the
courts were simply applying the legislative mandate when controlling
“inferior” jurisdictions.
ii. Ultra vires: scope of judicial intervention
1–006 The traditional model had a profound effect on the shape and scope of
judicial intervention in three distinct ways.
First, it accorded centre stage to control by the courts of
administrative agencies. This was regarded as the main purpose of
administrative law. The vigorous assertion of the supremacy of the
ordinary law was directed towards controlling or containing the
bureaucratic organs of the state. Such agencies were viewed with
implicit distrust, and judicial control was the principal means of
containing agency power.8
Secondly, the traditional model fostered a generalist as opposed to
a functionalist approach to administrative law, with a reluctance to
admit of special regimes. The legacy of the rule of law was that all
rules of the legal system should be equally applicable to all.
Thirdly, the courts however became more aware of the limits to the
exercise of judicial power. If the administrative agency was within its
assigned area, then it was performing tasks allocated to it by the
legislature. It was not contravening the legislative monopoly possessed
by Parliament. The courts should therefore be wary of substituting
their view for that of the chosen agency, and many of the judicial
limits on discretion were justified as applications of statutory intent.9
1–007 The traditional ultra vires model also had an impact on the range of
interests within the ambit of administrative law. Administrative law
has certain “gateways”, methods of getting into the system. Thus, the
rules of natural justice specify who should be heard before an agency
makes its decision, and the rules of standing stipulate who can
complain to the court that an agency overstepped its powers. A notable
feature of administrative law was the insistence that only those with
private rights in the sense of a cause of action in contract or tort, etc.
were allowed into the system. The gateways were barred to those who
did not possess such rights.10
The common law preoccupation with traditional rights is a partial
explanation of this phenomenon. However, the judicial attitude fitted
well with the traditional model. The judicial function was to police the
boundaries of legislative intent through the ultra vires principle, with
the consequence that the individual’s private autonomy was protected
by confining the public body to its assigned area. The only types of
private autonomy which the courts would recognise were, however,
rights derived from contract, tort, etc. The idea that the ordinary law
was being applied by the ordinary courts strengthened the belief that
the court was doing no more than applying standard notions of
contract or tort to cases where the defendant happened to be a public
body.
There was, however, a tension inherent in the traditional model,
which explains much of the complex case law on natural justice and
standing: the twin objectives of policing the frontiers of legislative
intent and protecting only traditional private rights could conflict.
Legislation relating to matters such as licensing might not affect rights
in the traditional sense. A disappointed applicant could not construct a
case in contract or tort, etc. The court might, however, be eager to
fulfil its policing role. Something has to give. Either the court gives up
its policing role in this area, or it relaxes the definition of “right” and
thereby widens the gateways for the citizen. The courts sometimes did
one and sometimes the other, hence the resulting complexity in the
case law.11
1–009 The traditional model reinforced the demand that the ordinary
principles of tort and contract should be applied to public bodies.
Dicey attacked the French system for the way in which he perceived it
as giving advantageous treatment to public officials who committed a
wrong. The situation in England was different, since the ordinary law
applied to all and special regimes did not exist. The Diceyan legacy
forestalled reasoned discussion as to how far ordinary principles of
tortious or contractual liability ought to be modified when dealing with
public bodies by insisting that any such distinct regime would be
contrary to the rule of law. When such discourse did surface in the
case law it assumed a defensive, almost apologetic air. This has
changed recently as the courts have become more willing to articulate
and assess what the justifiable, distinct needs of the public body might
in fact be.14
1–011 The growth of administrative law in the 20th century was intimately
connected with extension of governmental functions relating to the
poor, the unemployed, trade regulation and the like. Those who
disliked such social intervention, including Dicey, tended to view the
agencies applying such laws with suspicion. The predominance
accorded to the “ordinary law” applied by the “ordinary courts” was a
means of controlling these agencies, and of supervising their
substantive policies.
It is important to understand that this Diceyan legacy did not
reflect the conception of administrative law as it developed from the
late 16th century onwards. Administrative law during this period
developed in part to ensure that the administration was properly
accountable for its action, but the courts were also mindful of the
social value of the regulatory policies enacted by the
legislature and sought to ensure that they were efficaciously applied.15
This historic theme was picked up by later writers who, like their
earlier counterparts, perceived the value of the social policies applied
by the administration. A more positive desire that the agency should
fulfil its policy mandate became the focus of discussion, as it had been
in the past, and the courts were perceived as but one factor in fulfilling
this objective. Robson approached the study of administrative justice
without:
“… any ready-made assumption that every tribunal which does not at the moment form part of
the recognised system of judicature must necessarily and inevitably be arbitrary,
incompetent, unsatisfactory, injurious to the freedom of the citizen and to the welfare of
society”.16
1–012 The basis of the traditional model was that the courts would preserve
the legislative monopoly of Parliament by ensuring that the agency
remained within the area assigned to it by the legislature, and that the
courts would achieve this through the ultra vires principle. Five
problems can be identified, all of which relate to the indeterminacy of
legislative intent.
The first problem is the difficulty of defining the scope of an
institution’s designated area. The flexibility inherent in the ultra vires
concept preserved the veneer that the courts were simply obeying the
legislative mandate, but this very flexibility ultimately robbed the
reasoning of conviction. Consider a simple statute stipulating that if an
employee is injured at work compensation may or must be given. In
one obvious sense all these legislative conditions define the scope of
the agency’s power. There must be “an employee”, “who is injured”,
“at work”, before the agency can give any compensation. However, to
allow the reviewing court to substitute its opinion on all such matters
would mean that the agency then only had power when the court
agreed with the agency’s findings, not otherwise. Courts have been
aware of this conundrum and have defined jurisdictional error in
differing ways, some broad, some narrow.17 The reality is that almost
any such justification can be formally reconciled with legislative
intent. It can always, for example, be argued that Parliament intended
all questions of law to reside with the ordinary courts, or by way of
contrast, that Parliament intended that only certain “preliminary”
conditions be judicially reviewed. Legislative intent could legitimate
almost all types of judicial control, and therefore lost its potency to
legitimate any particular one. This malleability of the ultra vires
principle led Sir John Laws to the conclusion that it was merely a
tautology. The principle did not itself indicate what was to count as a
want of power, and thus its invocation amounted to saying no more
than that the court would strike down what it chose to strike down.18
He noted that the ultra vires principle was in reality a fig-leaf, enabling
the courts to intervene in decisions
without an assertion of judicial power which too nakedly confronted
the established authority of the executive or other public bodies.
A second problem is that the model came under particular strain
when the legislation attempted to preclude judicial interference, as it
did when, for example, it said that the minister’s determination of the
relevant issue should be conclusive or final. If the courts are enforcing
legislative intent through the ultra vires principle, then their role
should be limited in such instances. If they persist with review then the
traditional model must be modified to accommodate the idea that the
judiciary are not simply “implementing” legislative intent, but were
also “supplementing” it, through the existence of certain judicially
developed principles, which would be implicitly read into any
legislation. This idea has considerable historical lineage.19
1–013 The third difficulty with the ultra vires principle relates to the
development of the law across time. Control over, for example,
discretion has not remained static. New controls have been added to
the list. When the courts recognised substantive legitimate
expectations as an independent head of review in 2001 this was not
because legislative intent suddenly signalled in some miraculous
fashion that this should be so. It was because the courts decided that it
should be added to existing heads of review. The result can be
expressed through the language of ultra vires. It can, in formal terms,
be stated that it will henceforth be ultra vires for an agency to exercise
its discretion so as to infringe a substantive legitimate expectation.
Any head of review can be rationalised in this manner. This should not
conceal the obvious fact that it is the courts that decide on the
appropriate heads of review.
The fourth difficulty concerns the relationship between direct and
collateral attack. Claimants can challenge agency decisions either
directly through judicial review, or collaterally through a defence to,
for example, a criminal prosecution in which the validity of the order
on which the prosecution is based is contested. It would be possible in
theory for the courts to determine the incidence of collateral attack by
reference to legislative intent. This is, however, difficult since the
legislation normally provides no sure guidance on the matter. The
courts’ approach has been to decide on the availability of collateral
challenge by considering issues of first principle concerning, for
example, the injustice which could follow if the individual were not
able to challenge a decision or order collaterally.20
A final difficulty relates to the changing nature of the legislation
that the courts interpret. The growth of the welfare state led to the use
of more open-textured legislation and the grant of wide discretionary
powers. The task of interpreting legislative intent became
correspondingly more difficult.21 If statutes require the courts to
interpret phrases such as “public interest” and “individual need”, then
legislative intent may provide scant guidance as to how these broadly
framed discretionary powers should be interpreted, with the
consequence that the courts
form their own view as to what considerations should be deemed to be
relevant and what purposes can legitimately be pursued by the agency.
B. Rights-Based Approach
1–022 The constitution assigns a role to the courts as well as the legislator
and this was perceived by those who laid the foundations for review.41
In a constitutional democracy it is both right and proper for the courts
to impose limits on the way in which power is exercised. This was
indeed the traditional approach to the constraints imposed on public
power in the seminal case law that laid the foundations for judicial
review. The courts imposed limits that were felt to be normatively
justified. Coke, Heath, Holt and Mansfield based judicial review on
the capacity of the common law to control public power.42 The
principles of judicial review are therefore properly developed by the
courts in accord with the common law model set out above.
The courts impose the controls they believe are normatively
justified on the grounds of justice, the rule of law, etc. If the
omnipotent Parliament does not like these controls then it can make
this unequivocally clear. If it does so the courts will adhere to such
dictates. If Parliament manifests a specific intent as to the grounds of
review the courts will also obey this, in the same way as in other areas
where the primary obligations are the creation of the common law.
Rationalisations cast in terms of legislative intent of the kind embodied
in the ultra vires principle came much later. The fact that the
legislature can ultimately limit review, given traditional notions of
sovereignty, does not mean that the institution of review has to be
legitimated by reference to legislative intent in the absence of any such
limits being imposed.
Which limits on public power are normatively justified is an
inherently controversial issue, to which we shall return in due course.
However, invocation of the ultra vires principle never obviated this
inquiry, precisely because its content was indeterminate. It merely
brushed the inquiry under the carpet with the pretence that the answer
was to be found in some elusive legislative intent.
E. Critique
1–026 The rights-based vision of public law has been challenged by scholars
who fall broadly in the camp of political constitutionalism. Limits of
space preclude consideration of all aspects of this vibrant debate.55
The present discussion will
therefore focus on Poole’s critique.56 He assigns the generic label
common law constitutionalism (CLC), to capture the views of a range
of theorists, including Sir John Laws, Allan, Oliver, Jowell and the
present author.
Poole discerns a number of related propositions that constitute
CLC. These are that: a political community is ordered according to a
set of fundamental values; political decision-making is or ought to be a
matter of discovering what fundamental values require in particular
cases; the common law is the primary repository of the fundamental
values of the political community; ordinary politics does not
necessarily connect with fundamental values; public law therefore
consists of a set of higher-order principles and rights; and decision-
making in judicial review is or ought to be value oriented.
The essence of his critique is as follows. Poole maintains that the
nature and practice of judicial review does not fit with the vision of
public law advanced by common law constitutionalists. Thus, he
maintains that participation within adjudication is perforce limited and
is ill-adapted to consideration of a range of competing views; that
judicial review is ill-suited to consideration of polycentric disputes;
that the arguments in judicial review cases are relatively Spartan when
compared to ordinary political debate; that judicial review even in
cases concerned with rights does not typically involve considerations
about fundamental values, but is more commonly concerned with
second order considerations concerning matters such as the intensity of
review.
His preferred vision of public law is one that focuses on
legitimacy. In instrumental terms, this is said to connote the idea that
judicial review is justified because of the fallibility in government
decision-making. In non-instrumental terms, it is said to capture the
idea of trust in government.
F. Response
1–027 It is perfectly right for there to be debate, and the issues that Poole
raises should be taken seriously. It is nonetheless important to be
mindful of a methodological concern. Poole’s argument is presented
by drawing selectively from a number of writers, the assumption being
that all within the “CLC camp” agree with all the precepts that Poole
advances as being integral to CLC. This is certainly not true in the case
of the present author, and I doubt whether it is true of the others listed.
1–032 Poole argues that the style of argument in judicial review is relatively
Spartan as compared to the richness of political debate, that it is
restricted to certain well-established categories, and that it cannot
therefore conform to a deliberative ideal. Two brief comments are in
order.
On the one hand, it can be accepted that there are differences
between judicial review and normal political argument. The former
will be constrained by the need for the argument to be fitted within an
established head of review, and by the fact that the grounds of review
are premised on assumptions about the relationship between courts and
primary decision-makers, such as the injunction against substitution of
judgment on matters of discretion that have been assigned to the
primary decision-maker.
On the other hand, this should not however lead us to assume that
consideration of the particular issue before the court will necessarily
be less searching or less rich than when the same issue was considered
in the political process. Thus, when legislation is passed there may
well have been scant consideration as to whether a particular provision
thereof conflicts with Convention rights, or some other precept of
public law. Similarly when an executive decision is made that
differentiates between groups the extent to which this has been
preceded by searching analysis of the justification for the differential
treatment may well vary. If such issues are adjudicated before the
courts this may offer the opportunity for more in depth scrutiny of the
reasons and justificatory arguments for the contested provision than
occurred within the normal political process.
v. CLC and judicial review: limited relevance of
fundamental values
1–033 Poole argues that judges decide cases not by reflecting what
fundamental values or rights require, but that even in cases concerned
with rights the focus will often be on second-order considerations
relating to the intensity or standard of judicial review. This is said to
undermine the CLC claim that public law should be conceived in
terms of fundamental values.
It is unclear as to why Poole regards this as a difficulty for CLC
authors of whatever persuasion. The inarticulate premise to his
argument is that consideration of matters such as the appropriate
intensity of review constitutes a
diminution in some way of the precepts on which the CLC model is
founded. The argument appears to be that any departure from
substitution of judgment by the reviewing court compromises
adherence to a rights-based model of review, such that when courts
engage in consideration of the appropriate meaning to be given to
rationality or proportionality, or when they consider the extent to
which they should accord deference to the primary decision-maker,
this is somehow at odds with or diminishes the CLC view.
There is no foundation for this. It is true that different authors
broadly associated with CLC take different views as to when, for
example, deference should be accorded to the primary decision-
maker.64 This does not however mean that judicial engagement with
this issue is contrary to the precepts on which the CLC model is based.
It is, to the contrary, natural within a regime of judicial review for the
courts to focus on issues relating to the standard of review, as well as
the meaning of the contested right or value, since the former may be a
condition precedent to determination of the latter. Discourse
concerning the appropriate standard of review is central in a regime of
judicial review committed to rights, legality and the abuse of power, or
rights and fundamental values. The answer, whatsoever it may be,
encapsulates important values indicative of the relationship between
courts and the initial decision-maker.
We shall see below that in many instances the courts do substitute
judgment on the meaning of speech, assembly, deprivation of liberty
or the like, in which cases the focus will be squarely on the meaning of
the contested right. In other instances, notably where the public body
raises a defence that the limitation of the right came within grounds
allowed by the ECHR, the courts also engage in debate about the
proper limits of their control in relation to the political branch of
government, which often occurs within the proportionality inquiry,
although the courts in such cases will also make determinations about
the meaning of the contested right. Both aspects of the inquiry are
properly regarded as important within a model of review based on
rights, legality and abuse of power, or rights and fundamental values.
A. Intellectual Foundations
1–036 We have already seen that the traditional vision of administrative law
was premised on a particular view as to how our democracy
functioned. This was termed unitary democracy, to express the idea
that all public power was and should be channelled through
Parliament, which body possessed a legislative monopoly. When
practical necessity required the delegation of power to a minister or
agency, the purpose of administrative law was to ensure that the
agency remained within its assigned area and therefore did not trespass
on the legislative monopoly of Parliament by exercising power outside
of this sphere. This Diceyan view of administrative and constitutional
law was challenged on the grounds that his vision of unitary
democracy was both descriptively flawed and prescriptively
questionable. Three strands of this challenge should be distinguished.
1–037 The first strand of the critique was advanced by writers in the late 19th
and early 20th centuries who adopted a pluralist vision of democracy
to replace the unitary view espoused by Dicey.66 Their views differed,
but central themes of their argument can nonetheless be delineated.
They revealed the historical foundations of the unitary view of the
state. The idea that sovereignty was indivisible appeared initially in the
writings of, among others, Hobbes, as a defence against anarchy. The
state must be all powerful to prevent a breakdown in society. This
political justification for the unitary state was unsurprising given the
turmoil that occurred in the English civil war. This reasoning was
reinforced in the 19th century by jurists like Austin who argued that it
was simply not possible to have a sovereign whose power was limited.
Dicey built on Austin. In a democracy where the people elected MPs
who represented their views and controlled the executive, it was
“right” that this central power should be all-embracing.
The pluralists challenged the unitary view in descriptive and
prescriptive terms. In descriptive terms, they contested the idea that all
public power was
wielded by the state, pointing to pressure groups that shaped state
action, and religious, economic and social associations that exercised
authority. In prescriptive terms, group power was applauded rather
than condemned. The all-powerful unitary state was dangerous.
Liberty was best preserved by the presence of groups within the state
to which the individual could owe allegiance. Decentralisation and the
preservation of group autonomy were to be valued. This vision of
political pluralism was complemented by a concern with the social and
economic conditions within the state. There was a strong belief that
political liberty was closely linked with social and economic equality.
1–041 We have already seen why the traditional model tended to construe the
“gateways” to administrative law narrowly. Supporters of the pluralist
model would argue that the existing gateways should be broadened,
and that new types of gateway should be opened up.
The rationale for broadening the gateways is easy to understand.
The law relating to standing can be taken as an example. Standing
determines the range of people who can seek judicial review of agency
action. The traditional model tended towards a narrow construction of
standing. The public body exercised delegated power from Parliament
and was the arbiter of the public interest. An individual could only
challenge an agency decision, or so some cases held, where strict
private rights were at stake. In such cases, the individual was simply
settling a private dispute in contract or tort with the public body.
The pluralist model undermined this narrow construction. The
public body might still be conceived as the arbiter of the public
interest. It was, however, recognised that other private groups could
wield “public” power and exercised influence over agency decisions.
The thrust behind the pluralist argument was therefore that a third
party should be able to come to court, even if no traditional private
rights were affected, and ask the court to determine whether the result
reached by the agency, in the light of representations from a particular
group, really was in accord with the intent of the legislation.
1–042 The pluralist model would also suggest that the other principal
gateway, natural justice, should be given a broader interpretation than
under the traditional model. Natural justice should not be limited to
those with private rights, because pluralists stressed the
interconnection between economic and political liberty, and thus
believed that recipients of, for example, social welfare benefits should
be accorded process rights. The pluralist model also favoured
procedural rights in the form of consultation where an agency made
rules of a legislative nature. The gateway of natural justice would have
to be broadened to accommodate such a development.
The pluralist model would also indicate that there should be new
gateways to administrative law, such as a right to intervene. There may
be circumstances in which an interested group wishes to intervene in
existing adjudicative proceedings before the agency. The gateways, as
traditionally conceived, provided little assistance. Public law
adjudication often has far-reaching implications, which are not
confined to the nominal plaintiff and defendant. A group may wish to
intervene because it feels that the parties to the action are not putting
all the relevant arguments, or that they have reached an
accommodation with the agency and that this does not reflect the
public interest.
1–045 The traditional model focused on bodies that derived power from
statute, since only such bodies threatened the legislative monopoly of
Parliament. Provided that they were kept within the ambit of their
power this monopoly would be preserved. The pluralist model
undermined this complacency. Parliament did not have a monopoly of
public power, which was also exercised by others, including interest
groups on both the capital and labour sides of the market. The courts
were
therefore forced to make difficult determinations as to whether a
particular body was sufficiently public to be subject to the principles
of judicial review.
A. Intellectual Foundations
1–046 Pluralism has both descriptive and prescriptive elements. The
descriptive aspect of pluralism helps us to understand how
governmental decisions are made within society and the role of non-
elected groups in this process. The prescriptive aspect of pluralism
seeks to delineate an appropriate role for the state in the light of these
“facts”. Writers have drawn radically different conclusions from these
facts, as evident in contrasting visions of pluralism.
There was the pluralism of those who in the early 20th century
reacted against the unitary state postulated by Dicey. These pluralists
were generally left of centre politically. Their vision stressed the
existence of group power, group rights and obligations,
decentralisation and the interconnection between economic and
political liberty, the latter requiring governmental intervention to
secure such liberties for the individual. There was always an inner
tension between the desire for decentralisation, and the existence of
the requisite central authority to enable the desired economic
objectives to be fulfilled.
There was a more market-based conception of pluralist democracy,
manifest in governmental policy within the late 1970s and 1980s,
which was closer to pluralism as understood in the USA.70 The
existence of group power that shapes governmental action is
acknowledged. The prescriptive role for the state was conceived very
differently from the earlier pluralist model. The market was viewed as
the best “arbitrator” of many issues. Governmental regulation was
necessary only when there was market failure narrowly defined. There
were, however, also tensions within this model, since in certain
respects it produced a more powerful centralised role for the
government. Fulfilment of the free market vision required a strong
central government, and there was also a more overtly authoritarian
element present within this philosophy.71
1–048 Citizenship connotes the civil, political, social and economic rights
individuals possess, or ought to possess, within society. The rights that
individuals presently have will be affected by the particular theory of
law and adjudication adopted. A positivist might give one answer to
this question, based on the existing corpus of statutory and common
law materials. A follower of Dworkin might give a different answer if
it is warranted by the application of that theory of law and
adjudication. Which rights citizens ought to have has been a major
preoccupation of political theory for at least 2,000 years.
The conceptions of citizenship employed by the major political
parties have differed significantly. The Conservative’s document did
not deal with traditional civil and political rights at all, and emphasised
the rights which consumers of services ought to have as against the
service provider.72 The documents from the Liberal Democrats73 and
the Labour party74 in the early 1990s addressed a wider range of
issues, which were political, social and economic in nature.
Differences in the conception of citizenship will affect the
interpretation accorded to a model of public law based upon rights,
legality and the abuse of power. It will influence the particular
construction given to a concept which all would agree should be part
of the protected sphere of rights. It will also have a marked impact on
which rights are recognised at all. Thus, for example, all would agree
that equality should feature within a list of protected rights, and should
preclude differential treatment on the grounds of race, gender and the
like. Disagreement centres on the particular conception of equality that
should be applied. Traditional pluralists tended to favour a conception
of equality and distributive justice, which entailed state intervention to
promote greater equality in the resources held by individual citizens.
The more market-based species of pluralism had a very different
conception of distributive justice, which, on some versions, regarded
existing property rights as sacrosanct holdings that should not be
redistributed by the state.
The same theme is apparent when we consider which rights should
fall within the protected sphere at all. Employment can be taken by
way of example. Traditional pluralists, such as Laski, argued that
society existed for citizens to realise their lives in the best possible
manner. They saw a prominent connection between political and
economic liberty.75 A citizen should have the right to work, and
certain rights while in work, including adequate wages and the ability
to participate in the government of industry. Citizenship should not
therefore stop at the factory gates, both because economic well-being
was regarded as essential to political participation, and also because
“ideas of political citizenship are as
relevant in the economic as in the political arena”.76 The market-
oriented pluralist adopted a very different view of the employment
relationship. Market forces should be left to govern the employment
field with little in the way of rights to minimum terms or conditions of
service; worker participation in the governance of the industry was not
encouraged; and the collective rights of unions were closely
circumscribed and subordinated in certain respects to the rights of the
citizen as consumer.
1–049 The two models also produced differing conclusions concerning both
the incidence and objective of participation in agency decision-
making.
The incidence of participation is affected because both models find
it necessary to place constraints on groups opposed to the basic
philosophy on which the model is based. Thus, constraints were placed
on local authorities opposed to the market-oriented philosophy of the
conservative government. The earlier pluralists imposed constraints on
private property. The participatory role of those with property rights
had to be diminished, because it jeopardised the philosophy which
underpinned the aims of the pluralists.
The objective of granting participatory rights under the two models
may also differ. The market-oriented pluralist granted such rights to
those involved, with the object of ensuring efficiency. Accountability
was seen in market terms and granting participatory rights to
“consumers” of the activity was justified on this basis. The early
pluralists viewed the objectives of participation rights more broadly.
They were to enable the individual to participate in the process of
government, and to foster the full development of the individual within
society.
6. CONCLUSION
1–051 The point made at the outset to the previous section should be stressed
again here. There are many other background conceptions of
democracy and social ordering in addition to those considered above.
It might be argued that we should espouse a Third Way, which is
distinct from both versions of pluralism considered above.77 It might
alternatively be argued that we should foster a participatory
democracy, meaning some version of republicanism78 or
communitarianism. These are specific democratic visions, which
embody views of the relationship of citizen and state. They have
implications for rights, socio-economic conditions within society and
for distributive justice. The virtues of rival theories will always be
contested, as will the degree to which they are consonant with the way
in which society is currently ordered.
2 See Ch.2; P. Craig, UK, EU and Global Administrative Law: Foundations and
(2015), Ch.1.
6 S.A. de Smith, “The Prerogative Writs” (1951) 11 C.L.J. 40; and “Wrongs and
Remedies in Administrative Law” (1952) M.L.R. 189; L. Jaffe and E.
Henderson, “Judicial Review and the Rule of Law: Historical Origins” (1956) 72
L.Q.R. 345; E. Henderson, Foundations of English Administrative Law
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1963); A. Rubinstein, Jurisdiction and
Illegality (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1975); P. Craig, “Ultra Vires and
the Foundations of Judicial Review” (1998) 57 C.L.J. 63.
7 See Ch.16.
8 See also C. Harlow and R. Rawlings, Law and Administration, 2nd edn
(London: Butterworths, 1997), Ch.1.
9 See Ch.19.
10 See Ch.25.
11 See Ch.25.
12 See Ch.12.
13 See Ch.12.
14 See Ch.30.
(2015), Ch.1.
16 W. Robson, Justice and Administrative Law, A Study of the British
Constitution (London: Macmillan, 1928), XV.
17 See Ch.16.
J. Goudie (eds), Judicial Review, 2nd edn (London: Butterworths, 1997), Ch.4.
19 Thus, the rationale for natural justice was sometimes expressed as the
application of implied legislative intent, and sometimes as the courts supplying
the omission of the legislature.
20 See Ch.24.
21 R. Unger, Law in Modern Society (New York: Free Press, 1976), pp.192−203.
22 D. Oliver, “Is the Ultra vires Rule the Basis of Judicial Review?” [1987] P.L.
543.
23 See Ch.27.
24 See Ch.27.
25 See Ch.25.
543; De Smith’s Judicial Review, 6th edn (London: Sweet & Maxwell, 2007);
Laws, “Illegality: The Problem of Jurisdiction”, in Supperstone and Goudie
(eds), Judicial Review (1997); P. Craig, “Ultra Vires and the Foundations of
Judicial Review” (1998) 57 C.L.J. 63; D. Dyzenhaus, “Reuniting the Brain: The
Democratic Basis of Judicial Review” (1998) 9 Pub. Law Rev. 98; P. Craig,
“Competing Models of Judicial Review” [1999] P.L. 428; N. Bamforth, “Ultra
Vires and Institutional Independence”, in C. Forsyth (ed.), Judicial Review and
the Constitution (Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2000), Ch.6; D. Oliver, “Review of
Non-Statutory Discretions”, in Forsyth (ed.), Judicial Review and the
Constitution (2000), Ch.14; J. Jowell, “Of Vires and Vacuums: The
Constitutional Context of Judicial Review”, in Forsyth (ed.), Judicial Review
and the Constitution (2000), Ch.15; N. Barber, “The Academic Mythologians”
(2001) 22 O.J.L.S. 369; P. Craig and N. Bamforth, “Constitutional Analysis,
Constitutional Principle and Judicial Review” [2001] P.L. 763; P. Joseph, “The
Demise of Ultra Vires—Judicial Review in the New Zealand Courts” [2001]
P.L. 354; Craig, “Constitutional Foundations, the Rule of Law and Supremacy”
[2003] P.L. 92; Craig, UK, EU and Global Administrative Law: Foundations
and Challenges (2015), pp.125–153.
29 See para.1–002.
34 See Ch.20.
35 P. Craig, Public Law and Democracy in the United Kingdom and the United
P.L. 92.
37 R. Dworkin, Taking Rights Seriously (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
40 The only way in which the mere invocation of a term such as legality could
provide such answers is if it were taken to incorporate the answers to these
difficult issues concerning the respective competence of agencies and courts.
This would, however, simply conceal the issues, or treat their resolution in a way
thought to be self-evident, even though it manifestly is not.
41 Sir S. Sedley, “Human Rights: A Twenty-First Century Agenda” [1995] P.L.
386; P. Craig, “Public Law, Political Theory and Legal Theory” [2000] P.L. 211.
42 Craig, “Ultra Vires and the Foundations of Judicial Review” (1998) 57 C.L.J.
63, 79−85.
43 P. Craig, “Formal and Analytical Conceptions of the Rule of Law: An
Analytical Framework” [1997] P.L. 467; Lord Bingham, The Rule of Law
(London: Penguin, 2011); European Commission for Democracy through Law,
Report on the Rule of Law, CDL-AD (2011) 003 rev.
44 J. Raz, “The Rule of Law and its Virtue” (1977) 93 L.Q.R. 195.
1985), pp.11−12.
46 Dworkin, A Matter of Principle (1985), p.11.
1993), Ch.2; T.R.S. Allan, “The Rule of Law as the Rule of Reason: Consent
and Constitutionalism” (1999) 115 L.Q.R. 221; and T.R.S. Allan, Constitutional
Justice, A Liberal Theory of the Rule of Law (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2001).
50 Craig, “Constitutional Foundations, the Rule of Law and Supremacy” [2003]
P.L. 92, 96−102.
51 D. Dyzenhaus, “Form and Substance in the Rule of Law: A Democratic
Justification for Judicial Review”, in Forsyth (ed.), Judicial Review and the
Constitution (2000), p.171.
52 L. Tribe, “The Puzzling Persistence of Process-Based Constitutional
Theories” (1980) 89 Yale L.J. 1063; P. Brest, “The Substance of Process” (1981)
42 Ohio St L.J. 131; R. Dworkin, “The Forum of Principle” (1981) 56 N.Y.U.L.
Rev. 469.
53 See Ch.20.
Legal Action (New York: Dunellen, 1975); D. Oliver, Government in the United
Kingdom: The Search for Accountability, Effectiveness and Citizenship (Open
University Press, 1991); D. Oliver, Constitutional Reform in the UK (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2003); D. Oliver and G. Drewry, Public Service
Reforms: Issues of Accountability and Public Law (Pinter Publishers, 1996); J.
Jowell and D. Oliver (eds), The Changing Constitution, 7th edn (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2011); P. Craig, Administrative Law, 9th edn (London: Sweet
& Maxwell, 2021), Chs 2−11; P. Craig, EU Administrative Law, 3rd edn
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), Chs 1−8.
58 Craig, “Political Constitutionalism and Judicial Review” (2010) SSRN
1503505; Craig, “Political Constitutionalism and the Judicial Role: A Response”
(2011) 9 I-CON 112.
59 See Ch.20.
60 See Ch.15.
64 See Ch.20.
Press, 1917), Authority in the Modern State (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1919); H. Laski, Foundations of Sovereignty (London: Allen & Unwin, 1921); J.
Figgis, Churches in the Modern State (London, 1913); E. Barker, Reflections on
Government (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1942).
67 I. Harden and N. Lewis, The Noble Lie, The British Constitution and the Rule
of Law (London: Hutchinson, 1986).
68 P. Schmitter and G. Lehmbruch (eds), Trends Toward Corporatist
Intermediation (London: Sage, 1979); P. Schmitter and G. Lehmbruch (eds),
Patterns of Corporatist Policymaking (London: Sage, 1982); A. Cawson,
Corporatism and Welfare (London: Heinemann, 1982); R. Harrison (ed.),
Corporatism and the Welfare State (London: Allen & Unwin, 1984); P.
Birkinshaw, I. Harden and N. Lewis, Government by Moonlight: The Hybrid
Parts of the State (London: Unwin Hyman, 1990).
69 See Ch.15.
70 P. Craig, Public Law in the United Kingdom and the United States of America
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990), Chs 3 and 4.
71 R. Levitas (ed.), The Ideology of the New Right (Cambridge: Polity Press,
1986); R. Skidelsky (ed.), Thatcherism (London: Chatto & Windus, 1988); B.
Jessop, K. Bonnett, S. Bromley and T. Ling, Thatcherism (Cambridge: Polity
Press, 1988); S. Jenkins, Accountable to None, The Tory Nationalization of
Britain (London: Penguin, 1995).
72 The Citizen’s Charter: Raising the Standard, Cm.1599 (1991).
75 Craig, Public Law in the United Kingdom and the United States of America
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
2–001 i. Administrative law history is, in relative terms, in its infancy.1
Legal history is commonly left to legal historians in this age of
increased specialisation. Their expertise is invaluable, but the
historical terrain is vast, the numbers of specialist legal historians
are limited and the subject matter coverage uneven. There are
perforce large gaps, as exemplified by the historical landscape of
administrative law. Public lawyers know relatively little about
legal development in this area, and the regulatory environment
from which it grew, as attested to by the nostrum that the UK had
no regime of administrative law until the mid-20th century. The
judges who created and applied that regime in the 17th and 18th
century might beg to differ. They would also take issue with the
commonly accepted normative vision of administrative law that
underpins the empirical assumptions.
ii. This chapter charts the commonly accepted perception of English
Administrative law history, which is that it is of recent origin.
This perception is based on descriptive and normative
assumptions concerning judicial review doctrine and regulation.
The commonly perceived view is mistaken. It will be shown that
the reality was very different, as judged by the criteria of judicial
review doctrine and regulation, from both an empirical and
normative perspective. There was very considerable regulation,
which spurred the development of UK administrative law, from
the 16th century onwards.
iii. The chapter then considers in more detail the range of institutions
that undertook administration from the 17th century onwards. It
will be seen that there are elements of continuity and change in
the administrative landscape as it developed over time.2 The
institutions subject to administrative law now include the
executive, agencies, local authorities, tribunals, inquiries and
inferior courts. This list is not exhaustive. Details as to the
workings of these institutions will be considered in subsequent
chapters.
2. INTRODUCTION
2–002 The history of administrative law remains to be written. It is a task of
considerable magnitude, given that it requires understanding of case
law, regulatory legislation, government and politics spanning a period
of circa 450 years. The task is more especially daunting given the
range of different areas that were subject to governmental regulation
broadly construed. It is, therefore, unsurprising that the intellectual
task has not been fulfilled. This has not, however, translated into a
dearth of opinion as to English administrative law history. To the
contrary, as will be seen below, there are views in this regard, and
some are strongly held. There is, as in any intellectual endeavour, the
danger of an inverse relationship between the strength of a person’s
conviction and the depth of their knowledge.
This chapter is not a history of English administrative law, since
that would, as noted, require a book in itself. It does, however, offer a
lens through which to view two different conceptions of that history,
which are termed perception and reality. These terms are admittedly
tendentious, in the sense that they convey, by their very semantic
meaning, my view as to the more accurate picture of administrative
law as it developed over time. There is, however, nothing special in
the use of language in this regard, since those who adhere to the
opposite position deploy language that is equally tendentious.
The essence of the argument presented over the following pages is
as follows. The commonly held view about English administrative law
is that it is of recent origin, some dating it from the mid-20th century,
some venturing back to the late 19th century. This view, when
unpacked, is premised on assumptions concerning doctrinal case law
and regulation. There is an empirical and a normative foundation
underlying both assumptions. This “intellectual package” constitutes
the commonly accepted picture of administrative law as it unfolded in
England. This, then, is the perception, grounded in four central
constructs concerning case law and regulation, viewed from an
empirical and normative perspective. It is set out in the first part of the
chapter.
The discussion thereafter is concerned with what I term the reality.
It mirrors the discourse concerning perception, insofar as it considers
case law and regulation from both an empirical and normative
perspective. It will be argued that the commonly held view does not
cohere empirically with reality concerning case law or regulation, and
that the normative assumptions underlying the perceived view do not
square with the general approach of the legislature or the courts during
the foundational period of administrative law, which runs from the
mid-16th century onwards, with earlier origins.
i. Introduction
2–008 There is room for debate as to the yardsticks for deciding when a
subject “exists”. The two principal criteria in this respect are the
primary materials, case law and statute; and secondary materials that
reflect thereon, such as texts and the like. The ensuing argument is
premised on the assumption that the primary materials are indeed of
prime importance, and that commentary reflecting thereon is
secondary in this respect.
This methodology is not premised on stipulation; it does not deny
the significance of the secondary material; nor does it ignore the
symbiotic interaction that can exist betwixt the two. The methodology
is based on the assumption that to proceed in the converse manner, and
accord primary
significance to the secondary literature, is methodologically unsound.
The fact that what are now regarded as standard texts came later is
relevant, but not determinative, more especially because there was
literature on central issues such as the scope of the prerogative writs.22
The relative scale of such literature does not signify the absence of the
primary material, nor does it in any way undermine the reality of its
existence. It may well be true that “administrative law” as an
organising concept for teaching and research is a relatively recent
phenomenon, but this should be kept firmly in perspective.
The legal reality is that we have had a body of legal rules
concerned directly with the legal constraints that should be placed on
the administration broadly conceived for at least four hundred years,
and many of the core concepts that we use today would be recognised
by our judicial forbears such as Coke, Holt, Hale, Abbott, Blackstone,
Mansfield and Kenyon because they created them. The rules were part
of relations between individual and state, thereby forming the
foundations for classic administrative law review, and were central
also to relations between the parts of government, thereby operating as
a form of structural constitutional review. The development of this
jurisprudence was not fortuitous. To the contrary, the rich case law
developed, as will be seen below, precisely because of the extensive
regulatory regime that existed in Tudor and Stuart England. How
much the courts were doing as adjudged by the volume of the case
law, its doctrinal reach, and efficacy are, therefore, the principal
considerations in deciding when it is meaningful to speak of
administrative law developing in England and thereafter in the UK.
When viewed from these perspectives there is no doubt that judicial
review as a central facet of administrative law existed from the mid-
16th century at the latest.
2–009 Consider case law volume. Between 1220 and 1867 there were 6,637
separate citations to certiorari, 5,563 to prohibition and 7,111 to
mandamus. The very great majority of this judicial activity occurred
from the late 16th century onward.23 There were in addition 2,512
citations to quo warranto, which was the action used to challenge the
entitlement of a person to hold office. These figures are approximate,24
but they are nonetheless telling. The figures do not cover collateral
challenges, where the claimant used an action in, for example, tort to
challenge an illegality. These challenges were often used even after the
birth of the prerogative writs, because the plaintiff wished to secure a
monetary remedy, or because there might be a no certiorari clause in
the statute. Some figures concerning just two of the principal
administrative authorities that were active during this time,
Commissioners and justices of the peace, can help put matters in
perspective.25 The figures for cases involving Commissioners are:
trespass, 3,200; trover, 1,942; action on the case, 1,138; and replevin,
1,001. The figures for cases involving justices of the peace are:
trespass, 1,308; trover, 534; action on the case, 470; and replevin,
392.26
2–010 These figures do not touch the many collateral challenges to other
administrative authorities, such as tortious actions against municipal
corporations for illegality and abuse of power. The preceding figures
also do not, by definition, include the number of unreported cases.
Law reporting was private, and did not cover all cases. There might
have been no reporter at a particular case, or it might have been felt
that the case raised no new legal point and therefore did not warrant a
report, although such cases would still be important for an overall
picture of the incidence of judicial review. It is difficult to obtain
accurate information on the ratio between reported and unreported
cases, but it is unlikely that it was greater than 60–40% over time.
When reflecting on the historical incidence of judicial review it is
noteworthy that the population at the turn of the 17th century was circa
4.8 million, 6 million at the beginning of the 18th century, and 16.3
million by the 19th century. It is not, therefore, self-evident that
judicial review was less used then than now, more especially if one
removes the very large number of immigration/asylum cases from
current figures,27 and if one takes account of the fact that the preceding
figures were for decided cases, since leave was not required until
1933.28 It is also important to factor in the limited number of judges.
King’s Bench was staffed by the Chief Justice and three other justices,
the number rising to five in the 19th century. The numbers of judges in
Common Pleas and Court of Exchequer were similarly limited.29 This
limited number of judges would, moreover, be dealing with a whole
range of legal business in addition to judicial review. The preceding
figures concerning the incidence of judicial review, approximate
though they may be, are an important corrective to the view that we
never had any administrative law before the 1960s, since the incidence
thereof in 1670 was as high as in 1970, when calibrated for population
size, and this is so only taking account of reported cases.
2–011 Consider now legal doctrine. The doctrinal regime cannot be described
in detail here. Suffice it to say the following. The foundational
doctrine of administrative law was framed by constitutional principles
elaborated by the courts, which shaped the relationship between the
executive and the courts and between the executive and
Parliament.30Within this constitutional frame, the courts developed
many of the central concepts of judicial review with which we are
familiar today. There was well-established case law on review of fact
and law. There was doctrine dating back to the 16th century on legal
control of discretion, which was cast in terms of propriety of purpose,
rationality review and also what was termed proportionability. There
was jurisprudence on due process and damages liability. There was
doctrine on principles of good administration, as exemplified by case
law limiting the ability of a person who possessed a de facto or de jure
monopoly to charge whatever prices he liked. The courts reasoned that
such property was imbued with a public interest that limited the
normal capacity to charge what the market would bear. The case law
also tackled the consequences of invalidity, and determined that it was,
in principle, retrospective.31
The doctrine was given force through judicial creativity in relation
to remedies. The amplification of grounds for review took place
within, and was framed by, the evolution of remedial law. Direct and
collateral challenge were the vehicles for this development, the former
through the prerogative writs of certiorari, prohibition and mandamus,
the latter primarily, albeit not exclusively, through tort actions. The
courts transformed mandamus, certiorari and prohibition, thereby
creating the remedial mechanisms to effectuate the procedural and
substantive doctrines of judicial review. The prerogative writs had
existed from medieval times, but were not used to control
administration in the manner that became the norm from the 17th
century onwards. The judicial creativity matches anything found in
more modern doctrine.32 While the prerogative writs were the
principal medium for direct challenge, a very considerable number of
actions were brought collaterally, via tort claims. Plaintiffs used
actions for trespass, case, replevin, trover, false imprisonment,
nuisance and negligence to challenge administrative action, more
especially where they sought damages, which were
not available through the prerogative writs, or where a preclusive
clause purporting to exclude review rendered recourse to such a writ
more difficult.33
There was then an extensive body of legal doctrine that regulated
exercise of public power from the mid-16th century onwards. Judicial
review was composed of discernible heads of procedural and
substantive review, backed up by a remedial regime designed to
effectuate the grounds of illegality developed by the courts. It
constituted the core of administrative law, and was worthy of that
appellation. There is nothing in the preceding argument to the effect
that administrative law doctrine as it developed from the mid-16th
century was pristine. This is not a Whig version of history. There
were, of course, decisions and doctrine that were open to criticism, as
in all areas of the law. It is, moreover, no answer to say that the courts
have created some novel doctrinal concepts since then. They have
indeed done so. If this is, however, the touchstone, then it should serve
to deny recognition of, for example, a “system of tort liability” in the
17th century, since the difference between that body of law and the
existing regime exceeded the differences between administrative law
then and now. Similar caution should be exercised when viewing
claims to the effect that there might have been conceptual tensions in
some judicial review doctrine in the 17th and 18th centuries.34 The
extent to which this was so is itself debatable, but if pristine
conceptual clarity is the benchmark for recognition of a body of law
then no part of private law would qualify. There are three
misapprehensions about the preceding jurisprudence, which are related
but distinct.
2–012 First, it is common to regard the case law as “principally remedies
driven”. This was true in a reductionist sense, since if there was no
available remedy, then there would be little point in bringing an action.
This is, however, equally true in relation to any area of the law. The
remedial dimension was important, since it attested to the courts’
concern to ensure that relief was available, but it should not be taken to
signify the absence of developed grounds of review.
Secondly, it is equally common to regard the case law as a
wilderness of single instances, which was only reduced to order
through the efforts of 20th century scholarship. The scholarship was
valuable, but the premise is nonetheless wrong. The case law was not a
wilderness of single instances. To the contrary, there were established
grounds of procedural and substantive review that were readily
discernible from the cases for those minded to read them.35 The
principal grounds of review flowed naturally from the very subject
matter being reviewed. Judicial review developed from complaints
concerning the plethora of regulatory legislation enacted from the 15th
century onwards. It was natural for the courts that created the doctrinal
principles to inquire whether the administrative authority strayed
beyond the area assigned to it, hence the foundational categories of
review for law and fact; it was natural also for the courts to exercise
some control over the way in which the discretion accorded to such
bodies was
exercised, hence review for propriety of purpose, rationality and
proportionability; the courts necessarily determined the consequences
of invalidity; and it took no great normative imagination to require the
basic tenets of due process before power was exercised.
Thirdly, it is, moreover, common to contend that administrative
law in the UK was only worthy of that appellation because of seminal
judicial decisions in the 1960s. This argument does not withstand
examination. There is, as stated above, nothing in the preceding
argument to the effect that administrative law doctrine as it developed
from the mid-16th century was pristine. It should be recognised that
the seminal decisions of the 1960s largely removed impediments that
had been imposed in the early 20th century, such as the right-privilege
distinction, that between administrative and quasi-judicial proceedings,
and far-reaching conceptions of public interest immunity. In removing
such limitations, the courts often drew on the more liberal
jurisprudence from earlier centuries.
It is instructive in this regard to return to Lord Reid’s quote from
Ridge.36 Truth to tell, the first sentence concerning the fact that
administrative law was only a recent development in the UK, has been
taken out of context from the remainder of the paragraph and the
judgment more generally. This is more especially paradoxical, since
the fulcrum point on which Lord Reid’s judgment turned to modernise
the law relating to natural justice was the older case law, dating from
the 18th and 19th century. His Lordship reviewed this case law and
gave three reasons why the law had become confused: natural justice
could have only a limited application in the context of the wider duties
or discretion imposed upon a minister, but the courts had mistakenly
applied these limits to other areas where the constraints were
unnecessary37; the principle had only limited application during the
war, but such considerations should not affect the ambit of natural
justice now; and there was conceptual confusion between rights and
remedies, evident in the requirement of a superadded duty to act
judicially for certiorari, and the way that this had stilted the
development of natural justice.38 It was in this context that Lord Reid
opined that the courts should be wary of applying principles to
situations for which they were not intended. However, his Lordship’s
reaffirmed the earlier case law, stating that:
“I see nothing in that to justify our thinking that our old methods are any less applicable today
than ever they were to the older types of case, and if there are any dicta in modern authorities
which point in that direction, then, in my judgment, they should not be followed.”39
2–013 Consider the third dimension of legal doctrine sketched above, which
is efficacy. The effectiveness of judicial review, as judged in terms of
impact, is controversial in relation to the modern law. Methodological
issues abound, including the nature of the relevant empirical evidence,
the determination of causality and the relative
importance of judicial review as a determinant of administrative
behaviour.40 These difficulties are endemic and apply a fortiori to
evaluation of impact three or four hundred years ago. I make no claims
in this respect, since the relevant research is not, in general
forthcoming. I do, however, make the following more modest point,
which relates to the economics of litigation. Litigants brought cases in
the numbers set out above, which did not represent the totality of such
litigation, since the figures do not cover unreported cases. They would
not have done so if review had generally been inefficacious.
It follows that they were able to do so, notwithstanding the costs of
litigation. This is a point of some importance, since we naturally think
of trial costs in Dickensian terms as being potentially prohibitive.
Whatsoever the truth of this might be for some causes of action, it
must be qualified in terms of judicial review. This is because such
cases were regularly brought where the sums at stake were not large,
and where the claimant was not a repeat player, eager to establish a
precedent that would be beneficial going forward. Thus, there were,
for example, large numbers of cases dealing with liability for poor
relief, where the claimant alleged that a person or persons were not
resident in that parish, which should not therefore bear the liability;
there was similar numbers of cases dealing with turnpike trustees,
where the claimant would contest the amount charged for passage
along a highway; and there were frequent actions against justices of
the peace where the sums at stake were small.41
It follows also that the claimants thought that it was worthwhile
pursuing an action for judicial review as a mode of seeking relief for
their grievance. It is important to recognise that the claimants’ range of
options in this respect were often circumscribed and dependent on the
particular administrative regime. There might be some recourse to
internal administrative review, most notably in the context of excise;
there might also be the possibility of challenging the initial decision
through a tribunal, more especially from the 19th century onwards.
Such options were, nonetheless, very much a patchwork quilt,
dependent on the terms of the enabling legislation. The salient point
for present purposes is that judicial review was perceived to be an
option worth considering for those aggrieved by administrative action.
This was so notwithstanding that adjudication was generally
concentrated in the King’s Bench located in London, at a time when
travel and communication were a good deal more difficult than they
are now. The preceding argument does not, however, serve to deny the
fact that people also resolved disputes with the government by means
other than traditional litigation,42 which was also common in the
private law context.
B. Local Administration
2–023
“A fundamental antithesis between centralisation and ‘autonomous’ decentralisation runs
through the whole history of English government and its organisation. It is an antithesis that
underlies every polity, but especially that of England, where the origin and building up of the
nation give it an unparalleled importance. Indeed, among the primary causes which have
governed the process of differentiating the early legal notions and institutions of the nation
this conflict plays a leading part.”87
C. Statutory Inquiries
2–025 While the emergence of statutory inquiries can be traced earlier, it
really developed during the 19th century. The agricultural and
industrial revolutions increased the occasion for conflict between
individual and individual, or individual and government. The inquiry
procedure was a mechanism for resolving this conflict.90
An early example of its use is to be found in relation to
inclosures.91 Inclosure of land was normally achieved by the passage
of a private Act of Parliament. Inclosure Commissioners would be
appointed to consider the facts of a particular scheme, and objections
thereto. The Inclosure Act 1801 provided for the appointment of an ad
hoc commission of inquiry. The meetings of the commission were to
be advertised and the public could make objections to the scheme or
parts of it. The normal private Bill procedure was modified by the
General Inclosure Act 1845. This provided for an expedited form of
procedure. Normally a private Bill would have to be considered by a
Committee of each House. The provisional order procedure enshrined
in the 1845 Act provided for an inquiry by a person who could
investigate the matter at its actual physical location. The application
for the provisional order was made to the appropriate
government department which would appoint the inspector. Normally,
a public inquiry would be held before a provisional order was made.92
Much time could be saved by this procedure.
Inquiries were used in other areas besides that of inclosure, such as
local government. The Public Health Act 1875 empowered the Local
Government Board to hold such inquiries as they thought fit in relation
to any matters concerning the public health in any place, or any matter
in respect of which their sanction was required by the Act.93 The
inquiry was also used for other purposes, such as investigation of
railway, mining and factory accidents. It was, however, expansion of
governmental control over land use that provided the main impetus for
the expansion of inquiries in the 20th century. Thus, there was
expansion of the inquiry procedure flowing from increase in state
control over land use, planning and development.
D. Tribunals
2–026 In 1906 the Liberal landslide produced a majority of 356. The next
five years witnessed a range of measures often regarded as the basis
for the Welfare State.94 Protection of children was enshrined in the
Children’s Act 1908, to be followed closely by the introduction of old
age pensions in the same year. It was, however, the National Insurance
Act 1911 that was most significant in the long term. Lloyd George and
the Liberals saw a social insurance scheme as the method of reducing
the socialist threat, which had the added advantage of reducing the
financial burden placed on the state as compared with a completely
non-contributory plan.
This new legislation required administration. The modern tribunal
system had its real roots in the legislation enacted during this period.
Individual tribunals had existed earlier than this. However, the reforms
necessitated the development of an administrative and adjudicative
mechanism on a scale different from that which had gone before. A
variety of machinery was established, the constant theme being that
the ordinary courts were kept in the background, for a number of
reasons. The cost of using the ordinary courts would often be
disproportionate to the amounts involved and the number of potential
disputes would simply overburden them. There was also the feeling
that the courts were not the appropriate mechanism.95 Certain judicial
decisions on the early factory legislation, concerning hours of work for
children, had emasculated the legislative intent by upholding the
legality of the relay system. The judiciary had not been happy with
their role as arbiters of the reasonableness of railway charges, while
experience of appellate involvement in the Workmen’s Compensation
Acts 1897 and 1906 had been far from successful. Trade union feeling
that the ordinary courts were unsympathetic to their position, as
evidenced by a series
of decisions in the early 1900s, also militated against their use. The
Liberal measures were therefore designed to avoid using the ordinary
courts.
Developments in welfare policy were not, however, the only
reasons for use of tribunals. The government enacted regulatory
legislation in many areas, which was enforced outside the traditional
court system. Rent and transport tribunals provide but two examples.
Tribunals were established to provide protection for the citizen, such
as the Mental Health Review Tribunal, while others enforced
legislation affecting a large group of people, such as the industrial
tribunals. Yet others were concerned with the competitive process such
as the Monopolies and Mergers Commission. The list could be
considerably extended.
E. Current System
2–027 The range of bodies and institutions that makes decisions/rules that are
subject to administrative law is explored in greater detail in subsequent
chapters. It includes ministers, inquiries, tribunals, local government,
devolved administration and agencies. The agencies reflect
administrative continuity, as recognised by Willson, who noted the
connection between such bodies and commissioners and boards to
which administrative functions had been assigned in the past.96 An
idea of the range and number of such institutions can be grasped by
glancing through the appendices of the 1980 Report on Non-
Departmental Public Bodies.97 The reasons for the growth of agencies
will be discussed later.98
As background to the discussion in subsequent chapters, the
reactions of government to the growth of administration will be
considered through brief examination of four major studies completed
in the 20th century. The details of these reports are not of direct
relevance. The interest lies rather in their perception of the problems to
be solved, and the government’s reaction.
The Committee on Ministers’ Powers,99 known as the
Donoughmore Committee, produced a report that reflected the
rationale for its establishment. The Committee had been constituted to
look at two specific areas, which reflected concern at the extent of
ministerial power.100 These were delegated legislation and the making
of judicial or quasi-judicial decisions by a minister or those under his
control. Increasing use of broad delegations of power resulted in the
acquisition of both legislative and adjudicative functions by the
Executive. A powerful Committee101 produced a report which
contained suggestions for reform in both areas.
Just over 30 years later there appeared the Report of the Committee
on Administrative Tribunals and Enquiries,102 known as the Franks
Report. The terms of reference were drawn quite specifically. The
Committee examined
tribunals and inquiries. This put beyond the Committee’s purview the
broad area of decision-making where no formal procedure had been
prescribed, a fact emphasised by the Committee itself.103 The
Committee made a series of recommendations as to the constitution
and working of tribunals and inquiries, many of which were enacted in
the Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1958. These were valuable reforms. It
is the more general premises from which the Committee reasoned,
which are of interest here. It reasoned from the premise that tribunals
should be seen as part of the machinery of adjudication.104 There was
nothing wrong with this in itself. It was speaking about tribunals
against the background of its terms of reference. Many, though not all
of tribunals can properly be regarded as part of the machinery of
adjudication, involving formal statutory procedures for the resolution
of social welfare claims, or rent disputes. However, an indirect result
of this categorisation was the implicit assumption that all
administrative institutions could be fitted into the pigeon-holes
“inquiry” or “tribunal”, with those terms bearing their Franksian
meaning.
2–028 The 1980 Report on Non-Departmental Public Bodies105 contained
useful factual information, combined with short summaries of the
difficulties surrounding agencies and the like, the importance of which
was increased by developments in governmental policy. Privatisation
and deregulation added to the number of such institutions. The desire
to reduce the size of the central civil service, and to administer policy
through a variety of executive agencies, had an important impact in the
same direction.106
The Justice-All Souls Report107 contained important
recommendations on particular topics, such as the duty to give reasons
and the operation of tribunals. It was, however, limited in its scope and
in its approach. Thus, for example, the problems generated by agencies
were barely touched on; there was no real discussion of how
administrative agencies “operated”, or of their relationship with
government; and the significance of participation within administrative
decision-making was not considered.
We can now examine in more detail the principal institutions
responsible for making decisions that come within the purview of
administrative law. Subsequent chapters will therefore examine the
government, agencies, contracting out, tribunals and inquiries, local
authorities and devolution.
changes thereto, see M. Walters, “Public law and ordinary legal method:
Revisiting Dicey’s approach to droit administratif” (2016) 66 U.T.L.J. 53; M.
Walters, A.V. Dicey and the Common Law Constitutional Tradition: A Legal
Turn of Mind (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020), Ch.11.
7 Dicey, The Law of the Constitution, Allison (ed.) (2013), p.237.
8 This was more especially surprising, given that Dicey had a significant practice
at the Bar, where he argued a number of public law cases involving, inter alia,
mandamus, Walters, A.V. Dicey and the Common Law Constitutional Tradition:
A Legal Turn of Mind (2020).
9 J.D.B. Mitchell, “The Causes and Effects of the Absence of a System of Public
Law in the United Kingdom” [1965] P.L. 95, 104. See also, J.D.B. Mitchell,
“The Constitutional Implications of Judicial Control of the Administration in the
Nineteenth Century” (1967) 26 C.L.J. 46; and “The State of Public Law in the
United Kingdom” (1966) 15 I.C.L.Q. 133.
10 J. Varuhas, “Taxonomy and Public Law”, in M. Elliott, J. Varuhas and S.
Wilson Stark (eds), The Unity of Public Law? Doctrinal, Theoretical and
Comparative Perspectives (Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2018), pp.39, 41–44.
11 Varuhas, “Taxonomy and Public Law”, p.42.
1992).
17 T. Poole, “Back to the Future? Unearthing the Theory of Common Law
22 See, e.g. T. Tapping, The Law and Practice of the High Prerogative Writ of
Mandamus, as it obtains in England and Ireland (Philadelphia: Benning, 1848);
C. Gray, The Writ of Prohibition, Jurisdiction in Early Modern English Law
(New York: Oceana Publications, 1994).
23 There were, for example, 1,169 cases involving poor law guardians, 1,028
case, the consequence of their being more than one report, and in part because
the same passage can on occasion be cited more than once.
25 A further caveat in addition to that mentioned in the previous note is that the
case citations in these figures can sometimes inadvertently run together mention
of, for example, “trespass” in one case and “Commissioners” in another.
26 These latter figures are almost certainly too low, since in many cases the
citation is simply to “justices” rather than “justices of the peace”, but a search
framed in terms of “justices” can also bring in citations to judges, and therefore
be too high. It is nonetheless interesting for the record to note that the search
couched in terms of “justices” reveals the following figures: trespass, 7,605;
trover, 2,883; action on the case, 1,964; and replevin, 2,498.
27 In 1974 there were 160 applications for judicial review. This had risen to circa
11,000 in 2011, but 75% concerned asylum and immigration, Judicial Review:
proposals for reform, Cm 8515, 2012, paras 28–29.
28 Administration of Justice (Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 1933 s.5. The
number of cases decided at a substantive hearing in 2011 was circa 400, Judicial
Review: proposals for reform, para.30.
29 J. Sainty, The Judges of England, 1272-1990: A List of Judges of the Superior
Courts (London: Selden Society, 1993).
30 Prohibitions del Roy (1607) 12 Co. Rep. 63; Case of Proclamations (1611)
Co. Rep. 74. The cases established that the courts would determine the existence
and extent of prerogative power, and that the royal prerogative did not extend to
according the monarch adjudicative power, nor did it afford the monarch any
general economic regulatory power.
31 The relevant case law is considered in E. Henderson, Foundations of English
Administrative Law (Boston: Harvard University Press, 1963); P. Craig, UK, EU
and Global Administrative Law: Foundations and Challenges (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp.29–44; P. Craig, “The Legitimacy of US
Administrative Law and The Foundations of English Administrative Law,
Setting the Historical Record Straight”, SSRN 2802784; P. Craig, “English
Foundations of US Administrative Law: Four Central Errors” SSRN 2852835; P.
Craig, “Proportionality and Judicial Review: A UK Historical Perspective”, in S.
Vogenauer and S. Weatherill (eds), General Principles of Law, European and
Comparative Perspectives (Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2017), Ch.9.
32 Henderson, Foundations of English Administrative Law (1963), pp.46–58,
112; Craig, UK, EU and Global Administrative Law (2015), pp.51–62.
33 A. Rubinstein, Jurisdiction and Illegality (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1975), Ch.4; Craig, UK, EU and Global Administrative Law (2015), pp.59–62.
34 See, e.g. Varuhas, “Taxonomy and Public Law”, pp.42–43.
(2015), pp.65–95. See, e.g., King v The Justices of Essex (1816) 5 M. & S. 513;
Dominus Rex v Randall (1695) 2 Salk. 470; Cooper v Booth (1685) 3 Esp 135;
The King v The Commissioners of Sewers for Tower Hamlets (1830) 1 B. & Ad.
232.
45 S. Nason, Reconstructing Judicial Review (Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2016),
Chs 6–7.
46 For analysis of the significant volume of public legislation in the 18th century,
see J. Innes, Inferior Politics, Social Problems and Social Policies in Eighteenth
Century Britain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), pp.21–47.
47 See, e.g. P. Slack, Poverty and Policy in Tudor and Stuart England (London:
Longman, 1988).
48 See, e.g. G. Elton, The Parliament of England, 1559–1581 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1986); D. Smith, The Stuart Parliaments 1603–
1689 (London: Edward Arnold, 1999).
49 R. Sgroi, “Elizabethan Social and Economic Legislation”,
http://www.historyofparliamentonline.org/periods/tudors/elizabethan-social-
and-economic-legislation [accessed 13 January 2021].
50 D. Roberts, Victorian Origins of the British Welfare State (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1960); H. Parris, Government and the Railways in Nineteenth
Century Britain (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1965); H. Parris,
Constitutional Bureaucracy: The Development of British Central Administration
since the Eighteenth Century (London: Allen and Unwin, 1969); W. Lubenow,
The Politics of Government Growth: Early Victorian Attitudes toward State
Intervention 1833–1848 (Newton Abbott: David & Charles, 1971); D. Fraser,
Evolution of the British Welfare State: A History of Social Policy since the
Industrial Revolution (London: Macmillan, 1973); Sir D.N. Chester, The English
Administrative System 1780–1870 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981).
51 See, e.g. Labour of Children, etc., in Factories Act 1833; Poor Law
Amendment Act 1834; Public Health Act 1848; Public Health Act 1872; Public
Health Act 1875.
52 Sir W.S. Holdsworth, A History of English Law (London: Methuen, 1965),
Vol.15, 6−93.
53 See, e.g. J.B. Brebner, “Laissez-faire and State Intervention in Nineteenth-
(1922), p.21.
66 Statute of Sewers Act 1531, 23 Henry 8, c.5, s.3.
(1922), p.24.
69 See, e.g. London Watercourses (Commissioners of Sewers) Act 1605, 3 James
1, c.14; Commissioners of Sewers (City of London) Act 1708, 7 Ann., c.32;
Commissioners of Sewers Act 1708, 7 Ann., c.33; Sewers Act 1833, 3 & 4Will.
4, c.22.
70 Webb, English Local Government: Statutory Authorities for Special Purposes
(1922), pp.13–106.
71 Sewers Act 1833, 3 & 4Will. 4, c.22, s.7.
(2015), pp.69–95.
79 Roberts, Victorian Origins of the British Welfare State (1960), pp.14−16.
85 Roberts, Victorian Origins of the British Welfare State (1960), p.106. The 16
departments of which Roberts speaks are the Prison Inspectorate, the Mining
Inspectorate, the Factory Inspectorate, the Anatomy Inspectorate, the Burial
Inspectorate, the Poor Law Board, the General Board of Health, the Charity
Commission, the Lunacy Commission, the Railway Department, the Merchant
Marine Department, the Emigration Office, the Tithe, Inclosure and Copyhold
Commission, the Department of Science and Art, the Ecclesiastical Commission,
and the Education Committee.
86 Roberts, Victorian Origins of the British Welfare State (1960), pp.93−95.
87 J. Redlich and F. Hirst, The History of Local Government in England, 2nd edn
(London: Macmillan, 1970), p.12. The book was originally printed in 1903. The
second edition, with an introduction and epilogue by Keith-Lucas contains only
Book I from the original work.
88 Redlich and Hirst, The History of Local Government in England (1970),
pp.28−29.
89 Fraser, Power and Authority in the Victorian City (1979), p.165.
pp.23−25.
94 J. Hay, The Origins of the Liberal Welfare Reforms 1906–1914 (London:
Macmillan, 1975); Fraser, Evolution of the British Welfare State (1973), Ch.7.
95 B. Abel-Smith and R. Stevens, Lawyers and the Courts: A Sociological Study
Cmnd.7797.
98 See Ch.4.
100 See Lord Hewart, The New Despotism (London: Ernest Benn, 1929).
101 It contained Laski, Holdsworth, Scott and Anderson to name but a few.
102 Report of the Committee on Administrative Tribunals and Enquiries (1957),
Cmnd.218 (the Franks Report).
103 The Franks Report, paras 9−15.
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
3–001 i. The definition of government has always been somewhat
problematic, but these problems have been exacerbated by
changes in the pattern of administration. The creation of
executive agencies, contracting-out, privatisation, and the private
financing of public projects have all served to make the definition
of “government” more uncertain and to blur the line between the
public and the private sector.
ii. This chapter is concerned with Westminster, and the relationship
between the House of Commons and the Executive. It will be
followed by chapters on agencies, service provision and
contracting out. There will be analysis of governmental structures
outside Whitehall, with separate chapters on devolution and local
government. The discussion of the administrative system will also
focus on principles that are fundamental to good governance,
including freedom of information, standards in public life and
adequate complaints machinery. Tribunals and inquiries receive
separate treatment. The analysis of the administrative system
concludes with a case study of competition and regulation.
iii. This chapter examines some of the core features of the
relationship between Parliament and the Executive. It begins by
considering the foundations for executive power. It will be seen
that the expansion of the franchise and the increase in the areas
over which government accepted responsibility were intimately
connected. This in turn increased executive power in relation to
the legislature, since the government had to be able to deliver the
broadened range of promises that had led to its election. This led
to centralisation of the legislative initiative in the hands of the
government and a tighter party system.
The discussion then turns to the role of the legislature in relation
iv. to the scrutiny of government policy, and in relation to the
legislative process.
The principal mechanism for scrutiny of governmental policy is
v. through departmental select committees. Such committees
have a relatively long history, but the modern system dates from
1979 when the current system of departmental select committees
was established. The limits of such scrutiny, and the
achievements of such committees, are considered in the chapter,
as are recent reform initiatives.
vi. The role of the legislature in the legislative process is then
considered. The House of Commons has battled to preserve and
strengthen its role in the passage of legislation. There are tensions
between this laudable aim and the
adversarial party system that still dominates Westminster politics. The difficulties of
securing a greater role for the legislature are explained, as is the success of certain recent
reform initiatives.
The transition from the 19th to the 20th century exacerbated the
problem. The role of the state developed partly because of the
extension of the franchise. This broadened range of functions placed
increasing strain upon parliamentary time. One response was reform of
legislative procedures. Another was to tighten party discipline, to
ensure the passage of the expanded governmental programme. It
should not be thought that MPs are continually being harassed by
harridans called Whips. This would be to misrepresent reality. Whips
perform valuable functions of communication and management as well
as discipline. The government, nevertheless, maintains a carefully
calculated legislative programme, the Whip system is applied to
standing committees, the guillotine is used to maintain impetus, and
there is pressure on a member not to vote against the government,
especially on an important issue where the difference in numbers
between government and opposition is finely balanced.
3–008 The party system not only centralised initiative in the Executive as
manifested in party voting cohesion, but also in the process of policy
formation. As Johnson has noted,20 policy is normally laid down by
the Executive when the party is in office, although on occasion the
official leadership may defer to a particular powerful group because
the Executive fears to oppose them.
To this process of policy formulation may be added the impact of
powerful interest groups outside Parliament. There is nothing wrong
with extra-parliamentary groups having an effect on legislative
programmes. It happens in all countries. What causes disquiet is the
extent of this influence, and the way in which it serves to weaken
further the power of the legislature over legislation.
i. Rippon Commission
3–019 These issues were also addressed in Reports of the Select Committee
on Modernisation of the House of Commons.
The 1997 Report of the Select Committee contained a wide-ranging
examination of the legislative process,72 and the Liaison Committee
generally supported its conclusions.73 The Report was premised on the
assumption that legislation was a principal function of the House of
Commons, and not the exclusive preserve of the Executive.74 It
acknowledged the defects of the legislative regime. These included the
absence of consultation with MPs prior to the introduction of a Bill,
the patchy quality of consultation with outside interests, the Whitehall
culture which measured legislative success by getting a Bill
through Parliament unchanged, the adversarial and ineffective nature
of standing committees, and the imbalance of legislative activity at
different times of the year.75
The Report set out essential criteria for reform.76 These were that
the government should be assured of getting its legislation through in a
reasonable time; the opposition and MPs should have a full
opportunity to discuss and seek to change provisions; all parts of a Bill
should be properly considered; the time and expertise of MPs should
be used to better effect; there should be full explanations on the
meaning of the legislation; there should be greater accessibility for the
public; there should be balance throughout the legislative year; and
that monitoring of legislation already enacted should be a vital part of
Parliament’s role. Many of the detailed issues considered were similar
to those analysed by the Rippon Commission.
3–020 Thus, the Select Committee on Modernisation recognised that in
principle pre-legislative scrutiny of Bills published in draft form was
desirable, since it facilitated input from MPs before a measure had
become concretised into a formal Bill.77 There were four possible
institutional forms through which such scrutiny could occur: the
existing departmental select committees; a new permanent structure of
legislative committees; an ad hoc select committee; a joint committee
of both Houses.78
The Select Committee’s Report also followed the suggestion of the
Rippon Commission that it should be possible to “refer some Bills to a
committee for examination after the First Reading, but before the
Second Reading”.79 This would be particularly useful for those Bills
that were not subject to pre-legislative scrutiny. In such instances,
more especially where the Bill was complex, a reference to a
committee after the first reading would have the advantage that a
minister would be more likely to be receptive to suggestions for
change at this stage. The choice of committee to perform this task was
the same as that for pre-legislative scrutiny.
There was much discussion of the committee stage of a Bill. It was
acknowledged that greater use could be made of ad hoc select
committees, and special standing committees.80 It was nonetheless
regarded as inevitable that most Bills would have to be routed through
the existing Standing Committee
procedure.81 The Report accepted that many of the criticisms of such
committees could only be properly addressed by a change of culture
by those in the system, particularly ministers. A number of more
technical changes were proposed to improve matters.82
The Select Committee’s Report also adverted to post-legislative
scrutiny. An “essential criterion of any effective legislative scrutiny
system was a proper method of monitoring legislation which has come
into force”.83 This task, which is already carried out in relation to
some legislation, could properly be assigned to departmental select
committees.
3–021 The Select Committee on Modernisation’s 2002 Report84 reiterated
and developed many of the themes in the 1997 Report. The 2002
Report endorsed the importance of pre-legislative scrutiny of draft
Bills, with this work normally being undertaken by a departmental
select committee. Where it was not possible to produce a complete
legal text the government should submit proposals for pre-legislative
scrutiny based on a detailed statement of policy.85 There should be
consultations with other parties as to the broad shape of the legislative
agenda for that year.86 It should moreover be possible to carry over a
Bill from one session to the next, thereby obviating more detailed
scrutiny and avoiding the wastage of parliamentary resources. This
would allow more Bills to be considered by a Special Standing
Committee.87 The 2002 Report also contained recommendations for
the timing of the working day. The House of Commons approved the
Select Committee’s Report.88
The preceding recommendations were reinforced in the Select
Committee on Modernisation’s 2006 Report.89 It reiterated its belief in
the value of pre-legislative scrutiny and like the Liaison Committee
criticised the reduction in the number of draft Bills that had been
considered in this manner. It also made important recommendations
concerning the committee stage for public Bills. The Committee
proposed that: special standing committees should be the norm for
consideration of public Bills, with the power to take evidence; that
special standing committees and standing committees should be
renamed Public Bill Committees; and that Public Bill Committees
should be one type of general committee.
5. CONCLUSION
3–025 The tensions between the Executive and Parliament will not magically
disappear. They were manifest in the Arms to Iraq saga, and in the
limited political consequences that followed from publication of the
Scott Report.104 They are evident in the claims that ministers have
willingly received leaked reports from select committees in advance of
their publication in order the better to prepare their response. The
tensions are apparent in the government’s reaction to reports from
departmental select committees.
There is nonetheless a sense that the scrutiny and legislative
functions of Parliament should be and can be reinforced. There is an
underlying connection between the proposals made concerning
Parliament and scrutiny of government action, and Parliament and the
legislative process. This is the desire to enhance Parliament’s role and
reduce the extent to which the political system works in an adversarial
manner dominated by the Executive. The desire for some less party-
based scrutiny of governmental action and legislative proposals is a
recurrent theme.
This is a laudable objective. Whether it is realisable is another
matter. It might be argued that in the absence of a major catalyst
prompting a realignment of power between the Executive and the
legislature any change is bound to be
marginal. Electoral reform that breaks the dominance of the two major
parties might be such a catalyst,105 but it is unlikely that this will be
introduced by one of the two major parties, more especially after the
recent referendum rejecting modest change in the voting rules. The
very fact that backbench MPs have, in relative terms, been more
willing recently to voice and vote their disapproval of government
measures is, however, a positive development. There is, moreover,
literature arguing that the House of Commons has indeed become
more powerful as the result of recent developments.106
pp.265−268.
11 Walkland, The House of Commons in the Twentieth Century (1979),
pp.251−252.
12 Walkland, The House of Commons in the Twentieth Century (1979),
pp.265−266.
13 How rare is a matter of some debate, see Walkland, The House of Commons in
17 Ch.15.
(1966), pp.444−445.
44 Adonis, Parliament Today (1993), p.172.
2001−02).
57 For recent assessments, see P. Norton, “Departmental Select Committees: The
Reform of the Century?” (2019) 72 Parl. Affairs 727 and the other essays in the
Special Section, P. Evans, L. Maer, P. Norton and H. Yardle (eds), 40 Years of
Departmental Select Committees in the House of Commons (2019) 72 Parl.
Affairs 727–995; S. Rombach, “The Development of the Treasury Select
Committee 1995–2015” (2018) 71 Parl. Affairs 324.
58 Select Committee on Liaison, First Report, HC Paper No.406, para.105;
Making the Law (1993), para.345. See also, J. Griffith and M. Ryle, Parliament
(London: Sweet & Maxwell, 1989), pp.315−317.
70 The Report of the Hansard Society Commission on the Legislative Process,
paras 29−34.
86 Select Committee on Modernisation, Second Report: A Reform Programme,
para.44.
87 Select Committee on Modernisation, Second Report: A Reform Programme,
para.38.
88 HC Deb., col.801 (29 October 2002).
The Role of the Back Bench Member, HC Paper No.337 (Session 2006−07); The
Governance of Britain (2007), Cm.7170; Select Committee on Modernisation,
First Report: Scrutiny of the Draft Legislative Programme, HC Paper No.81
(Session 2007−08).
96 L. Thompson, “More of the Same, or a Period of Change? The Impact of
Public Bill Committees in the Twenty-First Century House of Commons” (2013)
66 Parl. Affairs 459.
97 New Labour: Because Britain Deserves Better (1997), pp.32−33.
100 Royal Commission on the Reform of the House of Lords, A House for the
Rebalancing the Lords: The Numbers (1998); R. Hazell, “Reforming the House
of Lords: A Step by Step Guide”, Constitutional Reform in the United Kingdom:
Practice and Principles (University of Cambridge, Centre for Public Law,
1998), Ch.15; I. Richard and D. Welfare, Unfinished Business: Reforming the
House of Lords (London: Vintage, 1999).
102 White Paper, The House of Lords: Reform (2007), Cm.7027.
103 House of Lords Reform Draft Bill (2011) Cm.8077; The House of Lords
“Is the House of Commons too Powerful?” (2019) 72 Parl. Affairs 996; F.
Mathews, “Majoritarianism Reinterpreted: Effective Representation and the
Quality of Westminster Democracy” (2018) 71 Parl. Affairs 50.
CHAPTER 4
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
4–001 i. The complex nature of “government” was noted earlier. The
nature of this administrative diversity will be analysed in this
chapter and that which follows. The last 50 years have seen the
most significant reorganisation of central government since the
latter part of the 19th century. A plethora of agencies and non-
departmental public bodies has been created.
ii. Boards or agencies were, as we have seen,1 common in earlier
centuries. They were, however, gradually taken into government
departments because Parliament desired accountability via direct
ministerial responsibility. This pattern of administrative
organisation persisted for much of the 20th century.
iii. Change came in the 1980s, the result of re-thinking of what
functions government should be undertaking. The conclusion was
that many activities should be hived off from core government
departments, and that some should be undertaken by public
bodies outside the normal departmental structure.
iv. The period thereafter witnessed the rapid expansion of public
bodies outside the strict confines of government. Classification
was not easy, and various terminology was used to describe the
administrative landscape. The principal division is, however,
between executive agencies, Non-Departmental Public Bodies
(NDPBs) and non-ministerial departments (NMDs).2 The
category into which a body is classified is determined principally
by the degree of freedom the body needs from ministerial control
to perform its functions.3
v. Executive agencies are part of the Crown. They do not usually
have their own legal identity, but operate under powers delegated
from ministers and departments. They do not normally have
statutory foundation. They have a Chief Executive, who reports to
the minister. Most such agencies receive funding from their
parent department, although some executive agencies have
become Trading Funds, and generate resources from their
commercial business. Their functions and responsibilities are set
out in Framework documents.
vi. There are various kinds of NDPBs. The most important are
termed executive NDPBs. They have separate legal identity and
are normally based on statute, or on occasion the prerogative.
Most executive NDPBs require legislation. Most do not have
Crown status. The legislation will normally state the composition
and powers of such bodies. Where the body is created by
legislation it will usually be incorporated as a body corporate.
The staff of public bodies that have separate legal personality and
do not have Crown status are not civil servants.
vii. Executive agencies and NDPBs pose challenges for public
administration and administrative law. They raise important
issues concerning appointments, control, accountability and
effectiveness.
viii. The Cameron Coalition government brought further change. It
reviewed the number of NDPBs and related bodies with a view to
enhancing accountability by considering whether a function really
should be performed outside the normal
departmental/accountability structure. The number of NDPBs
hitherto significantly exceeded that of executive agencies.
However, Coalition government policy was to contract the
number of NDPBs by abolishing some, merging others, or
transforming them into executive agencies. The reasons that have
driven this initiative will be considered later.
ix. The picture of government in 2020 is as follows.4 There are 24
ministerial departments; 20 non-ministerial departments; 412
agencies and other public bodies, including both executive
agencies and NDPBs; 98 high profile groups; 12 public
corporations; and 3 devolved administrations.
D. Government Reform
4–008 The Coalition government headed by David Cameron signalled the
biggest re-think of the NDPB model since the 1980s. It was driven in
part by the need to cut costs in the wake of the financial crisis, and in
part by normative precepts. Thus, the Coalition government’s starting
point was that if a public function was needed it should be undertaken
by a body that is democratically accountable at national or local
level.20 The corollary was that a body should only exist at arm’s length
from government if it met one of three tests: does it perform a
technical function; do its activities require political impartiality; or
does it need to act independently to establish facts?
To this end the government reviewed 904 bodies to determine
whether their functions were still required, and if so whether they
should continue to be undertaken by a NDPB or some related body.21
The initial assessment identified over 200 bodies that did not need to
be at arm’s length, and over 170 bodies that had overlapping functions
that could be merged down to fewer than 70.22 The remaining NDPBs
were retained because they satisfied one of the three tests set out
above.
The reforms were carried out via the Public Bodies Act 2011. This
legislation confers power on ministers to change the status of the listed
public bodies in the following ways. The minister can abolish a public
body, merge it with another, modify its constitutional arrangements,
modify its funding arrangements, or modify or transfer its functions.
The bodies in relation to which the minister can exercise such powers
are listed in the Schedules to the Act. The power is exercised through a
ministerial order, which is secondary legislation, and is subject to the
affirmative resolution procedure. There is a duty to consult before
making such an order. The Act provides that an order can only be
made if the minister considers that it improves the exercise of public
functions, having regard to efficiency, effectiveness, economy, and
securing appropriate accountability to
ministers. An order cannot be made if the minister considers that it
removes any necessary protection, and prevents any person from
continuing to exercise any right or freedom which that person might
reasonably expect to continue to exercise.
4–009 The reforms introduced by the government had a rough ride. The
Public Administration Select Committee was highly critical of the
reform exercise.23 The Committee concluded that the review was
poorly managed; the consultation was inadequate; the three tests to
determine if a function should continue to be undertaken by a NDPB
were not clearly defined; there was no “fit” between these tests and the
criteria in the Public Bodies Act; it was unclear whether the primary
concern was accountability or value for money; the size of any cost
savings was unclear; and that it was uncertain whether bringing
functions back to parent departments would enhance accountability.
The Select Committee was also critical of the Public Bodies Bill,
echoing the concerns of House of Lords Committees24 that the Bill
encapsulated a very broad Henry VIII clause, whereby primary
legislation could be modified by secondary legislation in the form of
ministerial orders. The Public Administration Select Committee felt
that more use should be made of executive agencies, which provided a
clearly identifiable organisation for stakeholders to engage with, while
leaving ultimate responsibility with the minister.
The government’s response was robust. It rejected many of the
criticisms voiced by the Select Committee. The government however
accepted that more use could be made of executive agencies, and that
the Cabinet Office should provide more guidance to departments as to
implementation of the reforms. The cumulative estimated savings
since 2010 are approximately £2.6 billion.25 The three tests to
determine whether there should be an ALB, arms-length body,
continue to be used by government.26
E. Terminology
4–010 The names of the institutions hived off from central government vary
enormously: commission, directorate, agency, inspectorate, authority,
service and office are all to be found. Nothing technical normally turns
upon these differences. Various labels have been used to describe in
more general terms the bodies discussed within this chapter. The term
“quango”, quasi-autonomous
non-governmental organisation, was used in the past, but is not the
most useful term, since many bodies are non-departmental, rather than
non-governmental.27
The government now distinguishes between non-ministerial
departments, executive agencies and non-departmental public body
(NDPB).28 Non-ministerial departments are government departments
in their own right, but do not have their own minister. Executive
agencies date from the “Next Steps” initiative; they do not usually
have their own legal identity; they have a chief executive who reports
to the minister against specific targets; and operate under powers
delegated from ministers. NDPBs are, as we have seen, those bodies
which have a role in the processes of national government, but are not
a government department or part of one, and operate to a greater or
lesser extent at arm’s length from ministers.
It should nonetheless be recognised that many of the issues
concerning accountability, transparency and the like are relevant to
both sets of organisations.29 Moreover, some NDPBs have the name
“agency”, and many other NDPBs or public corporations that perform
regulatory functions would be regarded as agencies in other political
systems, irrespective of their precise nomenclature.30
F. Conclusion
4–011 The developments from Fulton to Rayner to Ibbs did not follow a
series of logically inevitable steps. Few changes in the pattern of
administration can be viewed in this manner, but they are not
unconnected. Once the drive for efficiency was on, and once the
existing departmental structure had been challenged, it became natural
to consider whether the activity should continue to be performed by
government at all; whether it should be undertaken by an executive
agency or non-departmental public body, rather than in-house; or
whether it should be done outside the department on a contracting-out
basis.
There are connections between these administrative changes and
what has been termed “New Public Management” (NPM). The
doctrinal components of NPM include31: hands-on professional
management in the public sector; standards of performance; output
controls; the break-up of large bureaucratic structures; greater public
sector competition; and greater discipline in resource use.
These developments pose challenges for public law, relating to
accountability, susceptibility to judicial review, and the appropriate
procedural and substantive norms to be applied to such bodies. It is to
these issues which we must now turn.
A. Non-Ministerial Departments
4–013 Non-ministerial departments (NMDs) are government departments,
but do not have their own minister.32 They are usually headed by a
statutory board, and are accountable to Parliament through the minister
of the sponsoring department, although some report directly to
Parliament. They generally cover matters for which direct political
oversight is judged unnecessary or inappropriate. Their powers are
normally derived from statute, and they are staffed by civil servants.
There are, however, some NMDs that operate along agency lines,
while remaining a separate government department. Prominent NMDs
are the UK Statistics Authority, Charity Commission, Serious Fraud
Office, Food Standards Agency, Government Legal Department, and
HM Revenue and Customs.33
B. Executive Agencies
4–014 Executive agencies34 are part of the Crown. They do not usually have
their own legal identity, but operate under powers delegated by
ministers and departments. They have a chief executive who reports to
the minister against specific targets. Most such agencies receive
funding from their parent department and, although they are required
to publish and lay before Parliament separate accounts, these are part
of their parent department’s accounts. Some executive agencies have
become Trading Funds, and generate the cash they need to operate
from their commercial business.35 Executive agencies carry out
executive functions within government, with the emphasis on delivery
of specific outputs within an accountability framework laid down in
the Framework Document.
While the details of such Framework Documents vary, the Cabinet
Office recommends that they should contain36: a foreword by the
minister; details of the agency’s size, location and functions; the
agency’s aim and objectives; key target areas; the relationship between
the minister, the agency chief executive and senior officials in the
parent department; the relations with the department accounting
officer; the relationship with other bodies; arrangements for dealing
with Parliamentary Questions and letters from MPs; the customer
complaints procedure and arrangements for handling Parliamentary
Commissioner for Administration cases; the financial regime for the
agency; the machinery for
accounting, audit, monitoring and reporting, both within government
and externally; the arrangements for producing accounts; the business
and corporate planning framework; the arrangements for recruitment
and pay; the method of recruitment and the basis of remuneration for
the chief executive; appearance before the Public Accounts Committee
and departmental select committees; the arrangements for risk
management; and the arrangements for changing the Framework
Document.
Executive agencies do not normally have separate legal status,37
and thus legal actions are brought against the relevant minister under
whose aegis the agency functions. If an executive agency abuses its
powers it will be the relevant minister who will appear in any such
action. The agency will simply be regarded as part of the parent
department.38
C. NDPBs
4–015 Executive NDPBs have separate legal identity and will normally be
based on statute or, on occasion, the prerogative.39 Most executive
NDPBs require legislation to confer functions on the body, and also
for reasons of government accounting.40 The empowering legislation
will normally state the composition and powers of such bodies. Where
the body is created by legislation it will usually be incorporated as a
body corporate. The staff of public bodies that have separate legal
personality and do not have Crown status are not normally civil
servants.
Advisory NDPBs are, by way of contrast, normally set up by
administrative action. Legislation is however, required if the activity
involves continuing government funding for which parliamentary
authority is needed. It is open to departments to decide if they wish to
establish the body as part of the Crown, or as an
unincorporated/incorporated body with a separate legal personality.
Tribunal NDPBs are normally statutory bodies, which are
established to adjudicate on specific subject-matter. While tribunals
exercise their functions entirely independently, a government
department will normally be responsible for providing administrative
support.
4–016 The legislation or instrument creating the public body will commonly
specify its functions and funding. It is common for the legislation to
specify the power to: appoint staff, pay salaries, make pension
provision, raise money by levies or charges, borrow and lend, take
enforcement action, and acquire property. The legislation or
instrument will normally impose obligations on the public body to
make external audit arrangements, to report annually to Parliament, to
be subject to the Parliamentary Commissioner for Administration, and
to set fees and charges for services.
The legislation or instrument creating the NDPB will also indicate
the role of the minister within the particular area. Thus, the Cabinet
Office Guidance to Departments when creating a public body states
that departments should strike the balance between enabling the
minister to fulfil his or her responsibilities to Parliament, and giving
the public body the desired degree of independence. The precise
balance will depend on the nature of the public body’s functions and
the reasons for distancing these from government.41 It will be common
for the legislation to accord the minister power over appointment and
dismissal of the chairman and board members. The legislation may
also allow the minister to give statutory directions to the agency, or
ministerial approval may be required before certain action can be
taken, or before borrowing above a certain limit is allowed.42 Control
may be exercised through non-legislative techniques, such as
conditions attached to the issue of grant-in-aid, or in a formal
agreement between the department and the body.43
An action for judicial review will normally be brought against the
public body in its own name. The relevant minister may also be a party
to an action if the applicant claims that ministerial powers under the
legislation have been exceeded.44
A. Staffing
4–018 These agencies are staffed by civil servants, and approximately 70% of
civil servants now work in such agencies. Agency Chief Executives
are, however, recruited through open competition. The official
response when executive agencies were created was to talk of a
unified, but not uniform civil service, the message being that the
structural diversity resulting from agencies would have ramifications
for uniform conditions of pay and conditions of service, which were
the norm hitherto. HMSO, for example, introduced a new pay and
grading structure tailored to meet its business needs, and more
flexibility in terms and conditions of service is very much the order of
the day.47 The passage of the Civil Service (Management Functions)
Act 1992 facilitated agency autonomy with respect to pay bargaining
and conditions of service.
The 2002 Report48 favoured flexibility that would enable agencies
to recruit, pay and promote staff in the light of local needs and labour
markets. It also recommended that more executive agencies explore
the possibility of gaining trading fund status, since this would help to
generate income.49 This recommendation was taken up in the Cabinet
Office, Guide on Executive Agencies, which provides that matters
concerning agency pay, terms and conditions of service and the like
are normally delegated to the agency’s chief executive, and that such
matters should be allowed to vary in accord with local employment
conditions.50
These ramifications may well be greater than initially envisaged.
The more that chief executives are encouraged to develop pay
structures that suit their own agency, the less easy will it be for there to
be a regular interchange between the agency and the department itself.
This is particularly so if agency pay is determined in part by
commercial criteria, while that at the centre is held in check by
political considerations.51 It should nonetheless be recognised that
there has been a general change in the way that pay and service are
determined throughout Whitehall. The Treasury has delegated pay
bargaining to departments, many of which have further delegated this
power to agencies within their purview. Departments also have
considerable freedom in relation to recruitment to all grades below the
senior civil service, and once again will often give the same power to
agencies. The financial crisis and subsequent curb on government
spending has however led to more centralised Treasury control.
B. Control
4–019 The degree of ministerial control will be largely dependent on the
specificity of the framework agreement, which varies from area to
area.52 The difficulty of sustaining the divide between policy
consideration, undertaken by the core department, and service
delivery, done by the agency, should be acknowledged. It is not simply
that the two can naturally overlap. It is also that past experience with
nationalised industries, where a similar functional divide was meant to
operate, is salutary. It taught us that governments often meddled with
day-to-day operations, while staunchly resisting answering questions
on the topic by claiming that such matters were not within its purview,
while governmental guidance on policy was often not forthcoming, or
was subject to frequent revision.53
C. Accountability
4–020 The problems of accountability have occupied more attention. The
issue is put succinctly by Drewry and Butcher54:
“The basic problem is quite simply stated but not at all easily resolved. How can ministers
credibly cling to their virtual monopoly of accountability to Parliament, via traditional
models of ministerial responsibility that (according to Mrs Thatcher) were to remain
unaltered by the Next Steps, in respect of agencies whose chief executives are expected to
take managerial initiatives at arm’s length from ministerial control?”
D. Effectiveness
4–024 Measuring institutional effectiveness is always difficult, irrespective of
whether the task is performed in-house or through an executive
agency. It requires statistical evidence and criteria by which to use it.
Statistical evidence may however be unreliable, either because there is
not enough data, or because the variables to be “computed” are too
speculative.
The government perceived a link between executive agencies and
attainment of objectives in the Citizen’s Charter, although the Charter
has had a lower profile in more recent years.67 The Charter established
a number of principles for governmental service delivery68: standards
for service delivery; openness as to how the services are run;
consultation with service users; choice where possible as to the
available services; value for money; and remedies.69 Executive
agencies are often in the front line of service delivery and hence the
government attached weight to Charter goals. Official documents bore
testimony to the zeal for demonstrating cost savings and better
delivery of services.70 Things have now moved on. The government is
still concerned with targets and the measurement of performance, but
this is less linked to Charter initiatives than hitherto.
The recommendations contained in the 2002 Report must be seen
in the light of these developments.71 Strategic performance monitoring
was felt to be lacking in focus. It was felt that there should be greater
alignment between departmental and agency target setting. The
government acted on these recommendations. Landscape and business
reviews were conducted in relation to executive agencies, and the
government published detailed guidance on target-setting, designed to
ensure greater alignment between the Public Service Agreement made
by the department and the targets set by the executive agency.72
Executive agencies are now within the remit of the current regime of
“tailored reviews”,73 which builds on the previous triennial review
process and is described below.74
5. NDPBS: APPOINTMENTS, ACCOUNTABILITY AND
EFFICIENCY
A. Appointments
4–025 There has in the past been concern about the process by which people
are appointed to the NDPBs, and the power this gives the minister in
the sponsoring department. The Labour government recognised these
concerns,75 and reforms were implemented. The appointment process
is now highly regulated to ensure fairness and openness.
There is a Commissioner for Public Appointments,76 as a result of
the First Nolan Report.77 The Commissioner’s role is to regulate,
monitor, report and advise on appointments made by UK ministers to
the boards of national and regional public bodies. Government
departments are required to follow the Code of Practice when making
ministerial appointments to the boards of public bodies.
The principles contained in the Code are that78: ultimate
responsibility for appointments is with ministers; ministers should act
solely in the public interest; selection should be based on merit, be fair
and open; selection should be fair and impartial; there should be
diversity in appointments; there should be an established assurance
process with appropriate checks and balances. The Commissioner for
Public Appointments has an important role in providing independent
assurance that public appointments are made in accordance with these
Principles and this Governance Code.79 An Advisory Assessment
Panel assists the minister in decision-making on appointments. There
will also commonly be a departmental panel to oversee the
appointments process. Prospective appointees to key positions on
NDPBs may also be subject to scrutiny by departmental select
committees.
The Cabinet Office in addition provides advice to departments
about the arrangements for staffing of NDPBs, including a model code
for staff of executive NDPBs and a model code for contracts of
employment for those in senior posts.80
B. Control
4–026
Control and accountability have been major concerns in relation to
NDPBs. Control refers to the way in which the parent department may
influence or direct an agency. Accountability is concerned with the
answerability of that institution to the public, either through Parliament
or through some more direct means of public participation.81 Control
and accountability need not go hand in hand. It
may be desirable for the agency to have significant independence in its
decision-making. While this would indicate relatively little direct
control, it does not follow that accountability should be minimal.82
It is not, however, difficult to perceive why the term accountability
has been used to cover both control and the narrower sense of
accountability mentioned here. Traditional notions of ministerial
responsibility see accountability as existing through normal
departmental mechanisms to the minister and hence to Parliament. It is
presumed that what the minister is answerable for he or she also
controls, or should do at least in theory. In the case of agencies this
presumption cannot always be maintained.
4–027 Control can take two principal forms. It may be ex ante. This will be a
function of the degree of precision laid down in the enabling
legislation as to what is to be done, how it is to be achieved,83 and the
type of relationship between the institution and the department
responsible for it. A wide discretion may be accorded to the
organisation, because the problem is novel, or because the subject
matter makes it difficult not to delegate broad discretion. As the
Cabinet Office states, “the nature of the controls will depend both on
the NDPB’s functions, and on the closeness of supervision which
ministers wish to exercise”.84
This is developed further in the Cabinet Office guidance to
departments concerning NDPBs.85 It states that departments should
identify whether ministers need to retain control over aspects of the
NDPB’s activities. This includes matters such as whether questions of
policy can be left to the NDPB acting in accordance with
responsibilities conferred by the governing instrument, or whether
ministers must be able to direct or modify policy; whether the NDPB
should be subject to guidance from the minister; whether the minister
should have powers of direction; whether decisions in individual cases
can be left to the NDPB, subject to appeal to the courts or a tribunal, or
whether appeal to ministers is needed on some matters; whether the
minister needs to retain control over the fees charged by the NDPB;
and whether the exercise of financial powers should be subject to
ministerial approval or consent.
Control may also be exercised by monitoring the decisions reached
by the institution. It is difficult to assess how closely departments
exercise this control. It will be partly dependent on the composition of
the particular organisation and the subject matter it is dealing with.
Johnson concludes that executive control is blurred and spasmodic,86
but points out that diffuse control is not necessarily a bad thing.
Organisational theory indicates that there may be institutions that
function better where restraint is diffuse as opposed to a more rigid
form of internal management control.
C. Accountability
4–028 Most public disquiet has been focused on the traditional realm of
accountability. The discussion of administrative machinery in the 19th
century revealed the strains placed on the Board system by
Parliament’s desire to have a person directly answerable in the House
for its activities.87 The resurgence of NDPBs raised this problem in a
more acute form, since we have become accustomed to the idea of
ministerial responsibility as the “constitutional norm”. Government
policy to NDPBs since 2010 has, as we have seen, been predicated in
part on the desire to enhance accountability. It has favoured bodies
with a closer link to democratic accountability through Parliament.
Thus, while many NDPBs have been preserved, others have been
abolished, converted into executive agencies, or the activities have
been folded back into the department.88
Accountability can operate in a number of ways. The rules are a
blend of accountability from the top, accountability from the bottom
via public participation, and increased transparency.
The NDPB is accountable to the minister, with the latter being
responsible to Parliament. Government practice is as follows. If a
parliamentary question raises issues as to the day to day operation of a
NDPB then the relevant minister refers it to the chief executive officer
of the NDPB for a reply, which will be printed. Where however the
queries raised on a particular issue are numerous, or the subject of the
query sufficiently sensitive and/or high profile, then a ministerial
response will be more appropriate.89 Similar principles apply in
relation to correspondence from MPs: ministers will answer
correspondence relating to policies about sponsored bodies and the
frameworks within such bodies operate, but issues concerning their
day to day operation will normally be passed on to the chief executive
of the NDPB. Each NDPB is also subject to a wide-ranging triennial
review of its function and effectiveness.90
4–029 Accountability may be secured from the top through select
committees.91 Departmental select committees can examine the
expenditure, administration and policy of the “associated public
bodies” of the departments concerned, which is interpreted broadly to
include those instances where there is a significant degree of
ministerial responsibility for the body concerned.92 The chief
executive, as accounting officer, may also be summoned to the Public
Accounts Committee. It
is, however, questionable whether select committees are capable of
comprehensive oversight of agencies, as opposed to having a more
targeted impact upon particular issues.93 Research on select
committees would appear to substantiate these reservations.94
Accountability can also be enhanced from the bottom, through
public participation and the like. This is accepted by the government.
The Cabinet Office guide states that, “departments and public bodies
should aim to consult their users and stakeholders on a wide range of
issues by means of questionnaires, public meetings or other forms of
consultation”95 to ensure that they are responsive to the needs of their
customers. The government’s Code of Practice on Consultation is to
be followed in all cases.96 The Cabinet Office guide also enjoins
NDPBs to establish complaints procedures.97
Accountability is fostered by greater transparency. A number of
initiatives addressed this issue. Agencies were encouraged to hold
open annual meetings,98 to make reports available to the public99 and
to provide summary reports of their meetings.100 Much of this is now
reproduced in the Cabinet Office guidance to public bodies,101 and
NDPBs also come within the remit of the Freedom of Information Act
2000.
The Parliamentary Commissioner for Administration (PCA) can
also help to ensure accountability. A number of agencies have been
brought within the PCA’s jurisdiction.102 While the PCA cannot
provide systematic scrutiny of agency action, this reform is
nonetheless to be welcomed.103
1 See Ch.2.
2021].
3 Cabinet Office, Report of the Outcome of the Classification Review (2016);
March 2021].
5 See Ch.2.
26 Cabinet Office, The Approvals Process for the Creation of New Arm’s Length
(2016), 2.4.
33 https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations#cabinet-office [accessed 21
January 2021].
34 Cabinet Office, Executive Agencies; Cabinet Office, Classification of Public
40 Public Bodies with their own legal personality do not generally enjoy Crown
status. The exceptions are the Health and Safety Executive, the Child
Maintenance and Enforcement Commission, and the Advisory, Conciliation and
Arbitration Service, which are Crown bodies.
41 Cabinet Office, Public Bodies: A Guide for Departments, Ch.3, para.3.1.
45 https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/public-bodies-information-and-
1986).
54 Drewry and Butcher, The Civil Service Today (1991), p.228.
Services.
59 Cabinet Office, Executive Agencies, p.11.
64 HM Treasury, Cabinet Office, National Audit Office, Setting Key Targets for
Executive Agencies: A Guide (2003), p.3; Cabinet Office, Executive Agencies,
pp.8,10.
65 HM Treasury, Cabinet Office, National Audit Office, Setting Key Targets for
Executive Agencies: A Guide (2003), pp.12−13.
66 Cabinet Office, Public Bodies 2017 (2017), pp.13,14,27,41; Cabinet Office,
Executive Agencies, pp.5,8,17.
67 G. Drewry, “Whatever Happened to the Citizen’s Charter” [2002] P.L. 9.
69 See also, Cabinet Office, Service First, the New Charter Programme (1998).
Services; See also, Report by the Comptroller and Auditor General, Measuring
the Performance of Government Departments, HC Paper No.301 (Session
2000−01).
72 HM Treasury, Cabinet Office, National Audit Office, Setting Key Targets for
Executive Agencies: A Guide; National Audit Office, Improving Service Delivery
– The Role of Executive Agencies (2003).
73 Cabinet Office, Tailored Reviews: Guidance on Reviews of Public Bodies
(2019).
74 See para.4–030.
para.8i–j.
76 http://publicappointmentscommissioner.independent.gov.uk [accessed 21
January 2021].
77 Committee on Standards in Public Life, First Report (1995) Cm.2850-I.
para.5.
86 “Editorial: Quangos and the Structure of British Government” (1979) 57 Pub.
96 Cabinet Office, Public Bodies: A Guide for Departments, for discussion of the
Code, see Ch.15.
97 Cabinet Office, Public Bodies: A Guide for Departments, Ch.8, para.4.2.
101 Cabinet Office, Public Bodies: A Guide for Departments, Ch.8, para.3;
(2019), Annex B.
110 Hague, Mackenzie and Barker, Public Policy and Private Interests: The
116 The Court of Appeal was influenced in reaching this conclusion by the power
to give directions contained in s.4 of the 1971 Act which would override the
objectives set out in s.3(1).
117 Baldwin, “A British Independent Regulatory Agency and the “Skytrain”
Decision” [1978] P.L. 57, 78−79.
118 Baldwin, “A British Independent Regulatory Agency and the “Skytrain”
Decision” [1978] P.L. 57, 78.
119 Baldwin, “A Quango Unleashed” (1980) 58 Pub. Adm. 287.
company.
124 Coal Industry Nationalisation Act 1946; Civil Aviation Act 1946; Transport
Act 1947; Gas Act 1948; Iron and Steel Act 1949.
125 J. Vickers and G. Yarrow, Privatization, An Economic Analysis (Cambridge,
MA: MIT Press, 1988), p.130.
126 White Paper, Financial and Economic Obligations of the Nationalised
Industries (1961), Cmnd.1337; White Paper, Nationalised Industries: A Review
of Economic and Financial Objectives (1967), Cmnd.3437.
127 Vickers and Yarrow, Privatization, An Economic Analysis (1988), p.132.
128 White Paper, The Nationalised Industries (1978), Cmnd.7131; Vickers and
and 157−159.
135 This leaves open the more general issue as to how far corporate power
generally should be the concern of public law.
136 C. Graham and T. Prosser, “Privatising Nationalised Industries:
138 See also 1984 Act s.9, which created the separate category of public
telecommunications systems. Such systems have the conditions of s.8 attached,
which include a duty not to discriminate and required the operator of such a
system to permit interconnection with other systems.
139 1984 Act s.18(8).
142 1984 Act s.50. See now the Competition Act 1998 s.54 and Sch.10.
157 The Telecommunications Act 1984 has been largely superseded by the
Services.
160 Cabinet Office, Report of the Outcome of the Classification Review (2016).
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
5–001 i. Contract is of increasing relevance for governance.1 The topic is
significant, and the boundaries are contested. Contract and
contractual language have been used in areas as diverse as public
procurement, service provision, contracting-out, the private
finance initiative, concordats between branches of government,
public service agreements, framework agreements between
departments and executive agencies, the control of deviance,
unemployment services, and education. There are various
taxonomies that might be used.
ii. A criterion might be whether the contract is legally binding.2
Thus, in terms of the subject-matter in the previous paragraph, in
some instances the contracts are legally binding, in others they
are not. However, even in the latter instance the contracts or
agreements frame the parties’ obligations and may be backed by
sanctions, notwithstanding that the contract is not legally binding.
iii. An alternative suggested criterion is to distinguish between public
procurement, government by agreement and new public
contracting, the last of which is used to characterise delegation of
powers to public agencies in contractual arrangements whereby
central government preserves control and power of intervention.3
The choice of subject-matter for inclusion within each of these
categories may, however, be contentious.
iv. It is not possible in this chapter to consider all instances in which
contract or contractual language has been used. Contract is
relevant at varying points in administrative law. Thus, for
example, the use of framework agreements in the context of
executive agencies has been considered in the
previous chapter,4 while the susceptibility of contracts to judicial
review,5 and the extent to which contracts can be a fetter on the
exercise of administrative discretion, will be considered within
appropriate chapters of the book.6
v. The present chapter will focus on certain important aspects of contract
and governance. The discussion begins with the way in which
procurement policy is framed. There is analysis of the institutions
that frame procurement policy, the guidelines they produce and
the range of procurement options they can use.
vi. This is followed by analysis of contract and service provision by
central government. The discussion begins with consideration of
the increasing use of contracting-out in the provision of public
services. The policy of the Conservative government in the 1980s
and subsequent governments is explained and analysed. This
leads naturally to legal issues concerning contracting-out and to
the policy arguments for and against this mode of service
delivery. The focus then shifts to service provision by central
government through the Private Finance Initiative.
vii. There is then analysis of contract and service provision by local
government. This area has become more highly regulated in the
last 40 years, as attested to by the number of statutes that address
the issue. The policies of successive governments on contract and
service provision are explained, as is the role played by the
Private Finance Initiative at local level.
viii. The focus then shifts to a more general consideration of contract
as a tool of government policy. The chapter concludes with
detailed consideration of the legal rules governing the making of
contracts.
B. Guidelines on Procurement
5–005 The institutions responsible for procurement have always published
guidelines to aid departments in the procurement process.
There are general guidelines, as exemplified by the Procurement
Policy Guidelines produced by the Procurement Policy Unit.18 The
Labour government’s general strategy was to focus on “Better
Procurement”. The general guiding principle was value for money
with due regard for propriety and regularity.19 The Coalition
government published a series of papers with detailed guidance on its
general strategy for major projects, and this has continued.20
There has been guidance in relation to specific types of
procurement. This is exemplified by the guidance provided by the
Procurement Group in relation to construction projects.21 Value for
money was the guiding theme.22 There were “approval gateways” at
various stages of the project, the object being to ensure that the value
for money approach could be confirmed by people independently of
those managing the project.23 There was detailed guidance on matters
such as risk management, value management, project assessment and
the like.24 The government also provided guidance on the UK and EU
procurement rules.25
5–006 There are also Model Conditions of Contract. The Central Unit on
Procurement, as it then was, produced detailed model conditions for
procurement contracts.26 It was not mandatory for departments to use
such conditions, but they were strongly
advised to incorporate them in their purchasing and supply manuals.
The model conditions went into great detail. They covered all matters
relating to a procurement contract, including: the nature of the
contract; the contract period; its commencement; service provision and
payment; liabilities; compliance with legal obligations; control of the
contract; default, breach and termination; and dispute resolution. The
degree to which contracts made by public bodies involve standard
conditions differs, depending on the type of public authority involved,
but standardised forms of contract have predominated in relation to
contracts made by the government.27
From 1999–2010 the OGC had, as we have seen, central
responsibility for procurement. It developed many of the guides
published by institutions that had responsibility for procurement
hitherto. Thus, the Procurement Policy Guidelines were updated,28 and
guidelines on best practice, successful delivery, project management
and property and construction were published. The OGC also had
responsibility for best management practice. These functions are now
undertaken by the Cabinet Office.29
D. Contracting-Out: Assessment
5–013 It is appropriate to begin with the issue of principle: are there activities
that should not be contracted-out? Should certain types of service only
be run by the state stricto sensu? If so, which services would be placed
within this category, the police, adjudication, prisons? The latter have
in fact already been contracted-out to some degree. So too have some
aspects of the court process, such as the movement of prisoners.
There are then issues of accountability. The fact that the activity
has been contracted-out, rather than being privatised, means that the
state has responsibility for its provision. There is, however, a danger
that a contractor, who was intended only to “execute” a chosen policy,
may influence the policy itself. These contracts, like the framework
documents used in agency creation, can nonetheless sharpen
accountability by defining goals, setting targets and monitoring
performance. This does not mean that we should be complacent about
accountability. An interesting suggestion has been to distinguish
between three
senses of accountability: programme, process and fiscal.53 These
techniques are not, however, self-executing. Government must be as
clear as possible in the contract as to what it requires of the contractor.
Management within government must also be capable of assessing the
completed work. Where the preceding techniques of control operate
effectively contract can be a beneficial way of structuring
administrative discretion. As Harden states54:
“Although contract is not a panacea for the problem of discretion, it does offer an opportunity
to make real progress towards greater accountability by clearly identifying who is
responsible for a policy, what it is, whether it is being carried out in practice and if not, why
not.”
i. Competitive procedures
F. Parliamentary Appropriation
5–042 Given the breadth of the Crown’s power to contract, the legislature
must have power to refuse an appropriation to pay for a contract of
which it disapproves that has been made by the Executive.178 It was at
one time thought that unless an express appropriation of money had
been made the contract would be invalid and null. This belief was
derived from dicta by Shee J,179 and Viscount Haldane.180 However, it
is clear from later cases that Viscount Haldane regarded the absence of
the requisite appropriation as making the contract unenforceable, as
there was nothing against which to enforce it, rather than making the
contract null.181 The view that the absence of appropriation goes to
enforceability and not validity is supported by reasoned authority in
Australia,182 which also establishes that the appropriation does not
have to be specifically directed towards a particular contractual
expense.
The meaning of “enforceability” is not entirely clear. It is unclear
what the result is if the necessary funds are not appropriated. In
Bardolph, Evatt J stated that failure to vote the funds would relieve the
Crown from performance, the voting being an implied condition of the
contract.183 This comes perilously close to regarding appropriation as a
condition of validity by the backdoor. On appeal, the High Court
disagreed with this part of Evatt J’s judgment, finding that the lack of
appropriation did not relieve the Crown from its obligation to
perform.184
Enforceability could have one of two other meanings. It has been
suggested that it should bear the same interpretation as in the Statute of
Frauds.185 There are, however, difficulties in transferring the meaning
of unenforceable from a statute concerned with ensuring written
evidence for certain transactions, to the different context of the
absence of the requisite parliamentary appropriation. Another
suggestion is that enforceability is best seen as a condition to the
satisfaction of judgment, rather than as to the enforceability of the
claim. The difficulty with this view is that it amounts simply to saying
there is no legal right to execute judgment against Crown property,
which is the general rule for judgments against the Crown.
Appropriation Acts are, in any event, drawn broadly at present and
thus the above problems are unlikely to occur.
A. Existence of a Contract
5–047 There are special problems with the law relating to Crown service,
which has been much criticised.203 An initial issue is whether Crown
servants have a contract of service.
The argument that Crown servants do not have a contract of
service is based, in part, on the fact that they can be dismissed at will.
However, as noted by Lord Atkin in Reilly,204 the existence of a power
to dismiss such servants at will is not inconsistent with the existence of
a contract prior to that dismissal. In Bruce,205 May LJ held that there
was nothing unconstitutional about civil servants being employed by
the Crown pursuant to a contract of service, and that is consistent with
the modern view of civil servants vis-à-vis the Crown. However, he
went on to hold that prior to 1985 the Crown did not intend that civil
servants should have such contracts. The point arose once again in
McClaren,206 where a prison officer claimed that the introduction of a
new shift system constituted a breach of contract, or of his conditions
of service. It was held that it was at least arguable that the relationship
between the Home Office and prison officers was contractual. The
willingness to think of Crown servants as having a contract of service
is also apparent in Nangle,207 where the court affirmed the view in
Bruce that the Crown has capacity to make a contract with its staff. It
went on to hold that a contract had been created on the facts, and that
there was a strong presumption in favour of an intention to create legal
relations. This was followed in British Telecommunications.208
These decisions are to be welcomed. The regime has in the past
been based on the assumption that no such contract existed.209 There is
no sound reason in the modern day why civil servants should not be
employed under a contract of service. Statutory protections have been
extended to Crown servants,210 and management of the civil service
has been placed on a statutory foundation.211 The recognition that
Crown servants have a contract of employment would, nonetheless, go
some way to demystifying the relationship between the Crown and its
employees, and to undermining the idea that such employees should be
treated very differently from others. This does not, however,
necessarily mean that they should be treated in the identical manner as
those in private employment, as the following extract from Fredman
and Morris demonstrates212:
“We would argue that the major difference is that, while private employers are free to act
unless constrained by the law, public employers derive their authority from prerogative or
statute. There is a ‘public’ dimension to the way in which the civil service and the rest of the
public services are administered, which means that the State owes duties to the general
public as well as its workforce. It is necessary to find a balance between these interests. To
declare that civil servants have no contract is to give too little emphasis to the rights of the
individual employee; but simply to reverse this and declare that they do have contracts is to
ignore the public duties of the Crown.”
C. Arrears of Pay
5–049 Until 1943 it was believed that a civil servant would be entitled to
salary accrued at the date of dismissal.221 The point had not, however,
been fully argued and in Lucas Pilcher J222 reached the opposite
conclusion. The reasoning is unconvincing. Starting from the premise
that a Crown servant is dismissible at pleasure, Pilcher J reached the
conclusion that therefore arrears of pay were irrecoverable, which is a
non sequitur. As Lord Atkin stated in Reilly, a right to terminate the
contract at will is not inconsistent with the existence of a contract prior
to termination.223 The decision in Lucas has been cogently criticised
by the Privy Council,224 which refused to follow it. It is to be hoped
that other courts will adopt the same approach.225
D. Statutory Protection
5–050 In the context of Crown service the maxim that the common law will
supply the omission of the legislature has been reversed: it is statute
which has provided protection. The common law has not been
overruled, but rendered less important by legislation concerning unfair
dismissal.226 The legislation, now contained in the Employment Rights
Act 1996, provides that an employee has the right not to be unfairly
dismissed227 and the legislation sets out what constitutes dismissal.
Remedies for unfair dismissal are either a monetary award, or an order
for reinstatement or re-engagement. The general scheme of the
legislation relating to unfair dismissal applies to Crown
employment,228 which means employment under or for the purposes of
a government department, or any officer or body
exercising on behalf of the Crown functions conferred by any
enactment. The most important general exception, apart from the
military, is for national security.229
(2001), Ch.1.
3 Vincent-Jones, The New Public Contracting: Regulation, Responsiveness,
Relationality (2006), Ch.1.
4 See para.4–014.
9 Buying Agency, Pathfinder Guides you through the Procurement Maze (1998).
10 P. Gershon, Review of Civil Procurement in Central Government (1999).
11 https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/best-management-practice-
portfolio/about-the-office-of-government-commerce [accessed 22 January 2021].
12 Please see http://www.cabinetoffice.gov.uk/news/government-appoints-chief-
procurement-officer-cut-waste [accessed 22 January 2021].
13 HM Treasury, Transforming Government Procurement (2007).
14 See http://www.cabinetoffice.gov.uk/content/major-projects-authority
[accessed 22 January 2021]; HM Treasury and Cabinet Office, Major Project
Approval and Assurance Guidance (2011).
15 Available at: http://www.cabinetoffice.gov.uk/resource-library/major-
help-manage-and-deliver-major-projects-for-uk-economy;
https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/infrastructure-and-projects-
authority [accessed 22 January 2021].
17 Infrastructure and Projects Authority, Annual Report on Major Projects 2019–
20 (2020),
https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/atta
chment_data/file/899401/IPA_AR_MajorProjects2019-20.pdf [accessed 22
January 2021].
18 Procurement Policy Unit, Procurement Policy Guidelines (November 1998).
29 http://www.cabinetoffice.gov.uk/resource-library/best-management-practice-
(1998).
44 Cabinet Office, Better Quality Services, Guidance for Senior Managers, paras
2−3.
45 Cabinet Office, Better Quality Services, Guidance for Senior Managers,
para.7.
46 Cabinet Office, Better Quality Services, Guidance for Senior Managers,
para.9.
47 Office of Public Services Reform, Reforming our Public Services, Principles
into Practice (2002).
48 Sir P. Green, Efficiency Review (2010), available at:
http://www.cabinetoffice.gov.uk/sites/default/files/resources/sirphilipgreenrevie
w.pdf [accessed 22 January 2021].
49 White Paper, Open Public Services (2011), Cm.8145, available at
http://www.openpublicservices.cabinetoffice.gov.uk [accessed 22 January 2021].
50 See https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/open-public-
services/about; https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/cabinet-office
[accessed 22 January 2021].
51 White Paper, Open Public Services, para.5.2. See also, Open Public Services
https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/government-commercial-function
[accessed 22 January 2021]. The Government Commercial Function is a cross-
government network procuring, or supporting the procurement of, goods and
services for the government.
53 A. Robinson, “Government Contracting for Academic Research:
64 P. Craig, “Contracting-Out, the Human Rights Act and the Scope of Judicial
66 Quaquah v Group 4 Securities Ltd (No.2) [2001] Prison L.R. 318. The case
did not however involve contracting out pursuant to the 1994 Act.
67 HM Treasury, The Private Finance Initiative—Breaking New Ground (1993);
List (1998); Treasury Task Force, Geoffrey Robinson Announces Second Review
for the Private Finance Initiative (November 1998).
72 HM Treasury, PFI: Strengthening Long Term Partnerships, p.1.
74 Please see
http://webarchive.nationalarchives.gov.uk/20130129110402/http://www.hm-
treasury.gov.uk/ppp_policy_team.htm [accessed 22 January 2021].
75 https://www.gov.uk/government/news/new-government-body-to-help-manage-
and-deliver-major-projects-for-uk-economy [accessed 22 January 2021].
76 HM Treasury, Public Private Partnerships: The Government’s Approach
(2000).
77 M. Freedland, “Public Law and Private Finance—Placing the Private Finance
Initiative in a Public Law Frame” [1998] P.L. 288, 298−299.
78 Freedland, “Public Law and Private Finance—Placing the Private Finance
Initiative in a Public Law Frame” [1998] P.L. 288, 299.
79 Freedland, “Public Law and Private Finance—Placing the Private Finance
Initiative in a Public Law Frame” [1998] P.L. 288, 290−291.
80 HM Treasury, Standardisation of PFI Contracts, Version 4 (2007), available
at: http://webarchive.nationalarchives.gov.uk/20130129110402/http://www.hm-
treasury.gov.uk/ppp_standardised_contracts.htm [accessed 22 January 2021].
81 Freedland, “Public Law and Private Finance—Placing the Private Finance
C.O.D. 518.
93 P. Vincent-Jones, The New Public Contracting: Regulation, Responsiveness,
102 Local Government and Public Involvement in Health Act 2007 ss.139−140.
103 Department for Communities and Local Government, Strong and Prosperous
Communities, The Local Government White Paper Implementation Plan: One
Year On (2007), paras 22 and 26−27.
104 Local Government and Public Involvement in Health Act 2007 ss.103−114.
105 Department of Transport, Local Government and the Regions, Local Public
Service Agreements, New Challenges (2001); Office of the Deputy Prime
Minister, Building on Success, A Guide to the Second Generation of Local
Public Service Agreements (2003).
106 Department of Transport, Local Government and the Regions, Strong Local
Leadership—Quality Public Services (2001), Cm.5327, Ch 3; Audit
Commission, CPA—The Harder Test Framework for 2007 (2007).
107 Deregulation Act 2015 s.101.
109 See
http://webarchive.nationalarchives.gov.uk/20120919132719/http://www.commu
nities.gov.uk/localgovernment/localgovernmentfinance/pupprivatepartnership
[accessed 22 January 2021].
110 Office of the Deputy Prime Minister, Local Government and the Private
Finance Initiative (1998).
111 Please see https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/procurement-and-
contract-management [accessed 22 January 2021].
112 Office of the Deputy Prime Minister, Local Government and the Private
Finance Initiative, Preface 1.
113 Local Government PFI Annuity Grant Determination (No.1) 2011
[No.31/1934];
http://webarchive.nationalarchives.gov.uk/20120919132719/http://www.commu
nities.gov.uk/localgovernment/localgovernmentfinance/pupprivatepartnership/ce
ntralgovernment [accessed 22 January 2021].
114 See https://www.gov.uk/government/collections/public-private-partnerships
Liability and Public Authorities (1992), Ch.3; and Arrowsmith, The Law of
Public and Utilities Procurement: Regulation in the UK and the EU (2014).
117 See, e.g. Commission v Ireland (45/87) [1988] E.C.R. 4929; Du Pont de
Nemours Italiana SpA v Unita Sanitaria Locale, No.2 di Carrara (21/88) [1990]
E.C.R. I–889; Commission v Italy (3/88) [1989] E.C.R. 4035.
118 [1993] OJ L199/54.
129 The Public Procurement (Amendment) (EU Exit) Regulations (SI 560/2019);
The Public Procurement (Amendment) (EU Exit) (No.2) Regulations (SI
623/2019).
130 See https://www.gov.uk/guidance/public-sector-procurement-after-a-no-deal-
brexit [accessed 22 January 2021].
131 SI 102/2015 regs 5–6.
136 Harmon CFEM Facades (UK) Ltd v Corporate Officer of the House of
Fair Wages Clauses and Recognised Conditions” (1948) 11 M.L.R. 269, 429.
141 J. Jowell, “Bargaining in Development Control” (1977) J.P.L. 414 and
“Limits of Law in Urban Planning” (1977) C.L.P. 63; R. Ferguson and A. Page,
“Pay Restraint; The Legal Constraints” (1978) 128 N.L.J 515; T. Daintith,
“Regulation by Contract: The New Prerogative” (1979) C.L.P. 41; T. Daintith,
“Legal Analysis of Economic Policy” (1982) 9 Jnl. Law & Soc. 191; A. Page,
“Public Law and Economic Policy: The United Kingdom Experience” (1982) 9
Jnl. Law & Soc. 225.
142 See Ch.27.
158 JE Verrault & Fils v Quebec [1971] S.C.R. 41; Meates v Attorney General
161 Many statutes such as the Ministers of the Crown Act 1975 are, however,
premised on the hypothesis that a minister accepts rights and obligations in his
or her own name.
162 See also, Department for Environment Food and Rural Affairs v Robertson
[2005] I.C.R. 750 CA (Civ Div).
163 J. McLean, “The Crown in Contract and Administrative Law” (2004) 24
O.J.L.S. 129.
164 Attorney General v De Keyser’s Royal Hotel Ltd [1920] A.C. 508 HL.
165 Attorney General v Manchester Corp [1906] 1 Ch. 643; Attorney General v
167 Attorney General v Great Eastern Railway (1880) 5 App. Cas. 473 at 478.
168 See, e.g. R. (Risk Management Partners Ltd) v Brent LBC [2009] EWCA Civ
490.
169 Bowstead and Reynolds on Agency, 21st edn (London: Sweet & Maxwell,
2018).
170 See Ch.22.
173 Unless one were to read the Town Investments case to mean that ministers
always had the authority of the Crown generally, but this would be an extreme
application of the merger theory applied in that case.
174 Dunn v MacDonald [1897] 1 Q.B. 401 QBD at 555.
175 Dunn [1897] 1 Q.B. 401 at 404−406.
177 Street, Governmental Liability (1953), p.93 makes the further points that the
representation may well have been one of law rather than fact and that the
plaintiff may not, on the facts, have relied upon it.
178 Street, Governmental Liability (1953), pp.93, 84−90.
617.
181 Commonwealth of Australia v Kidman [1926] 32 A.L.R. 1 at 2 and 3;
188 Franklin v Attorney General [1974] Q.B. 185 QBD at 201. The 1947 Act
states that nothing in it shall affect proceedings against the Crown relating to
non-UK claims. This saving should, in this respect, preserve the 1860 Act.
189 Ashbury Railway Carriage and Iron Co Ltd v Riche (1874-75) L.R. 7 H.L.
653.
190 Credit Suisse v Allerdale BC [1997] Q.B. 306; Credit Suisse v Waltham
Forest LBC [1997] Q.B. 362; National Transport Co-operative Society Ltd v
Attorney General of Jamaica [2009] UKPC 48.
191 This was also recognised in Stretch v West Dorset DC (2000) 2 L.G.L.R. 140
CA (Civ Div).
192 Rolled Steel Products (Holdings) Ltd v British Steel Corp [1986] Ch. 246 CA
(Civ Div) at 302.
193 P. Cane, “Do Banks Dare to Lend to Local Authorities?” (1994) 110 L.Q.R.
514.
194 Charles Terence Estates Ltd v Cornwall CC [2012] EWCA Civ 1439 at [30]–
[37]; School Facility Management Ltd v Governing Body of Christ the King
College, Isle of Wight Council [2020] EWHC 1118 (Comm) at [109]–[162]. See
also National Transport Co-operative Society Ltd v Attorney General of Jamaica
[2009] UKPC 48, where the contractual error to which Credit Suisse was applied
was a lack of legal capacity.
195 Stretch v United Kingdom (2004) 38 E.H.R.R. 12.
196 See also, Arrowsmith, Civil Liability and Public Authorities (1992),
203 S. Fredman and G. Morris, The State as Employer, Labour Law in the Public
Services (Mansell, 1989).
204 Reilly v King [1934] A.C. 176 at 180.
205 R. v Civil Service Appeals Board, Ex p. Bruce [1988] I.C.R. 649 QBD. The
point was not taken before the Court of Appeal, [1989] I.C.R. 171.
206 McClaren v Home Office [1990] I.C.R. 824 CA (Civ Div).
but not for members of the armed forces, Quinn v Ministry of Defence [1998]
P.I.Q.R. P387; or members of the judiciary, Gilham v Ministry of Justice [2019]
1 W.L.R. 5905 SC.
208 British Telecommunications Plc v Royal Mail Group Ltd [2010] EWHC 8; A
Relations Act 1976 ss.75 and 76; Disability Discrimination Act 1995 s.64.
211 Constitutional Reform and Governance Act 2010 Pt I.
212 Fredman and Morris, The State as Employer, Labour Law in the Public
Services (1989), p.66.
213 Dunn v Queen [1896] 1 Q.B. 116 CA.
218 Reilly v King [1934] A.C. 176; Robertson v Minister of Pensions [1949] 1
K.B. 227.
219 Rodwell v Thomas [1944] K.B. 596 KBD; Riordan v War Office [1959] 1
W.L.R. 104; [1961] 1 W.L.R. 210 QBD.
220 In neither case are the authorities relied on convincing for establishing the
propositions laid down As pointed out above, the provision for a fixed term in
the Dunn case appears to have been held not to be inconsistent with a power to
dismiss at pleasure, rather than a clog upon such power. See also, Terrell v
Secretary of State for the Colonies [1953] 2 Q.B. 482.
221 R. v Doutré (1884) 9 App. Cas. 745; Sutton v Attorney General (1923) 39
T.L.R. 294.
222 Lucas v Lucas [1943] P. 68; Mulvenna v The Admiralty 1926 S.C. 842; D.
228 Employment Rights Act 1996 s.191. See also, Public Interest Disclosure Act
1998 s.10.
229 Employment Rights Act 1996 s.193, as amended by Employment Relations
LOCAL GOVERNMENT
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
6–001 i. The development of local authorities in the 19th century has
already been charted. There will be no attempt to provide a
comprehensive legal guide to these authorities within the
discussion that follows. This is a specialist field with a wealth of
literature.1
ii. An understanding of local government is, however, essential,
since such authorities are among the principal decision-makers in
the public law sphere. Their powers have been transformed,
which means that it is no longer possible to define local
government merely by describing the pattern of local authorities
and their respective powers.
iii. Many of their traditional responsibilities have been transferred to
agencies, which are often subject to central control, while others
have been contracted-out to private contractors. This
development has led some
commentators to distinguish between formal and informal local
government,2 while others speak in terms of a shift from local
government to local governance.3
iv. The following section will, therefore, chart the powers of local
authorities, and the other bodies with local responsibilities will be
considered thereafter. The final section will consider more
generally the issue of central–local relations and democracy, in
the light of legislative initiatives.
A. Structure
6–002 The pattern of local authorities established by the end of the 19th
century continued largely unchanged until 1972. In the period after the
Second World War there was, however, increasing disquiet. The shape
of local government was felt to be outdated and ill-adapted to the
demographic and technological development that occurred in the post-
war period. This sentiment was voiced most strongly by Richard
Crossman in 1965, who was then Minister of Housing and Local
Government. In 1966 a Royal Commission was established under the
chairmanship of Lord Redcliffe-Maud.4 The Report of the Royal
Commission identified a number of key problems: the division
between town and country, that between boroughs and counties, the
allocation of responsibility within counties, the small size of some
local authorities, and the relationships between local authority and the
public, and local authority and government.
The response of the Royal Commission to these difficulties was to
reverse conventional thinking about local decision-making. The
traditional pattern was based on the assumption that single-tier
authorities would be suited to the larger urban areas and that a two-tier
structure was required in other contexts. This thinking was directly
challenged. For the future, the Redcliffe-Maud Report proposed that
unitary authorities should be the norm. These would cover urban and
rural areas, normally focused around the main towns. The unitary
principle would be departed from only in those large urban
conurbations where, to adhere rigidly to the single-tier principle,
would make the authority unwieldy and remote from the community.
In such conurbations a two-tier structure was recommended.
The Labour government was largely in favour of the Royal
Commission’s proposals and accepted the unitary concept.5 The
Conservative Party was,
however, in favour of the two-tier principle. Its return to government
in 1970 ensured the demise of the Redcliffe-Maud proposals. It
reverted to the two-tier principle,6 which was embodied in the Local
Government Act 1972.7
6–003 There were four different types of local government. The first was the
metropolitan county of which there were six, divided into 36
metropolitan districts. Secondly, there were 39 non-metropolitan
counties with 296 districts. Both types of county could have parishes
beneath the districts. Thirdly, in London there was the Greater London
Council, under which existed 32 London boroughs. Fourthly, Wales
had eight counties, 37 districts, and communities below these.
Boundary Commissions, one for England and one for Wales, were
constituted by the 1972 Act. Both Commissions have the duty to
review district and county areas within 10 to 15 years or otherwise as
the secretary of state may direct.
This pattern of local authority organisation was radically revised,
with the abolition of the metropolitan county councils (MCCs) and the
Greater London Council (GLC). The Conservative government argued
that such authorities should be abolished because they had limited
operational responsibilities, their expenditure had been excessive, and
they sought to establish a role that was not really required. It was
argued that reform would “streamline” the cities, save money, and
provide a simpler system. The cogency of these arguments was
challenged by studies commissioned by the MCCs. Evidence as to
likely cost savings was not readily apparent, and the argument
concerning simplicity was undermined by the institutional changes that
were to replace the MCCs and the GLC. The Local Government Act
1985 abolished the MCCs and the GLC. Some functions were
transferred to district or borough councils. Others were assigned to
new joint authorities composed primarily of members from the
relevant district or borough councils. The decision to abolish the
MCCs and the GLC was motivated more by the desire to dismantle
large authorities that had been predominantly Labour, rather than by
the objective of improving local government in large conurbations.8
The present structure of local authorities varies from area to area.
In some there are two layers or tiers, a district council and a county
council; in others there is just one, a unitary authority. In London each
borough is a unitary authority, with the Greater London Authority, the
Mayor and Assembly, providing strategic, city-wide government.9
There can in addition be a town or parish council, covering a much
smaller area.
6–004 Structural reviews have been used to decide whether or not a single,
all-purpose council, rather than two councils, would better reflect the
interests of local communities and lead to more effective local
government. These reviews were undertaken by the Local Government
Commission (LGC) established under the Local Government Act
1992. The LGC was replaced by Boundary Committees. The
Boundary Committee for England was established in April 2002, but it
was
replaced by the Local Government Boundary Commission, LGBC, in
2010. The LGBC can recommend the creation of one or more new
unitary authorities, or the division of an existing authority into one or
more new authorities.10
The detailed provisions by which an area where there are two-tiers
of local government can be reorganised so that there is a single tier of
local government, and the process by which the boundaries of local
government areas can be altered, are regulated by the Local
Government and Public Involvement in Health Act 2007.11 There is
also statutory provision for combined local authorities, which exercise
certain powers.12
B. Internal Organisation
6–005 The internal structure of local authorities changed as a result of new
initiatives contained in the DETR’s13 White Paper on Modern Local
Government, In Touch with the People.14 The traditional committee
structures used by most councils was said to lead to “inefficient and
opaque decision making”, with significant decisions being taken
behind closed doors by political groups, or by a small group within the
majority group.15 Councillors were felt to be unproductive, since they
spent too much time in meetings when decisions had already been
taken elsewhere.16 Leadership was said to be lacking, and people often
did not know who was taking the decisions.17 The cure for this malaise
was the separation of roles as between the local authority executive
and the backbench councillors. This separation was said to enhance
efficiency, transparency and accountability.18 The executive should
propose the policy framework and implement policies within the
agreed framework. The backbench councillors should represent their
constituents, share in the policy and budget decisions of the full
council, suggest policy improvements and scrutinise the executive.19
These ideas were enshrined in the Local Government Act 2000,20
as amended by the Local Government and Public Involvement in
Health Act 2007 and the Localism Act 2011. The following analysis
deals with local authorities in England. There are two principal ways
in which this new division of roles can be introduced for local
authorities in England, although it is open to the secretary of state to
prescribe, within certain limits, other forms of executive
organisation.21 A local authority must submit proposals to the
secretary of state as to which type of
executive arrangement it wishes to adopt. The local authority must
consult the local electors and other interested persons. Detailed
guidance has been published as to the workings of this regime.22 The
Secretary of State has power to make regulations concerning the
governance arrangements of local authorities.23
6–006 There can be a directly elected mayor plus a cabinet.24 The mayor is
elected by the whole electorate and then forms a cabinet from among
the councillors. The mayor acts as the political leader for the
community, proposing policy for approval by the council and steering
implementation by the cabinet through council officers. The default
assumption is that all executive functions can be undertaken by the
mayor. The Local Government Act 2000 was amended by the
Localism Act 2011 to allow the government to trigger a referendum in
large cities outside London to decide whether they wish to have an
elected mayor.25
The second option is to have a leader and cabinet executive.26 A
councillor is elected leader of the executive by the local authority. Two
or more councillors are appointed to the executive by the executive
leader. The executive arrangements can make provision for the
allocation of any executive function to the executive, any member of
the executive, any committee of the executive, and any officer of the
executive.27
There is also provision for the local authority executive to take
such form as may be prescribed by the secretary of state in
regulations, subject to criteria specified in the Act itself.28 There are
detailed provisions concerning the variation of executive arrangements
by local authorities.29
The Local Government Act 2000 makes provision for overview
and scrutiny committees. These committees can review and scrutinise
decisions taken by the executive, and they can require members of the
executive to appear before them to answer questions.30 The Act
contains provisions as to which meetings of the executive are held in
public and which in private.31 Local authorities are required to have a
constitution,32 containing such information as the secretary of state
may direct. The secretary of state has said that the constitution should
describe clearly the way in which the local authority conducts its
business and should be readily available to the public.33
The provisions for London are in the same vein with a directly
elected mayor and a directly elected assembly.34 They are enshrined in
the Greater London Authority Act 1999.35 The mayor has the main
executive responsibility, and is responsible for general planning, the
establishment of the budget, the running of new transport and
economic development bodies, and improvements to the environment.
It is for the Assembly to question the Mayor on his or her actions, and
to agree or suggest changes to the mayor’s overall budget and plans. In
general terms, the GLA has responsibility, in varying degrees, for
transport, economic development, the environment, planning, the
police, fire authorities, culture and health.
It is clear that the government regarded these as more than mere
organisational changes. They were designed to reinvigorate local
democracy by providing for more efficient, accountable and
transparent local government. The broader impact of these initiatives
will be considered below.
6–008 The modern role of local authorities has its origins in the problems
attendant upon industrialisation and urbanisation in the 19th century.
This necessitated collective action to provide a variety of goods and
services, and local authorities were perceived as well placed to
undertake this task.36 Some of these services were “public goods”,
which the market would not provide, or would do so inefficiently.
Others were trading services, which the private market could provide,
but only with the attendant risk of private monopoly profit. Yet other
services were redistributive, designed to benefit certain groups within
society, such as by the provision of social welfare.37
6–011 The fourth period covers local authorities’ functions as seen in the
light of the Labour government’s approach to this area. The White
Paper on Modern Local Government, In Touch with the People,42
should be read in conjunction with the papers on Modernising Local
Government: Improving Local Services through Best Value43 and
Local Government and the Private Finance Initiative.44 The latter two
papers are considered in the chapter on service provision.45 The
general
approach to local authority services was maintained in the 2006 White
Paper Strong and Prosperous Communities.46 The essence of the
overall approach can be set out here.
The Labour strategy for the powers of local authorities was less
doctrinaire than that of the previous Conservative government. The
market was not always perceived as the best way to secure service
provision. However, while the Conservative strategy was toned down,
and while the Labour approach was designed to be less
confrontational, it was also clear that the Labour government accepted
that service provision should be by the “most effective, economic and
efficient means available”.47 The Best Value strategy, enshrined in the
Local Government Act 1999, as amended by the Local Government
and Public Involvement in Health Act 2007, was designed to secure
the efficient and effective provision of local services, while preserving
greater local autonomy and choice. Efficient and effective public
services were seen as an essential part of a healthy democracy.48
The attainment of Best Value was seen as being about quality as
well as efficiency. There was no presumption that services must be
privatised, nor was there any compulsion to put services out to tender,
but there was no reason to provide services in-house if other more
efficient means were available. Competition was only one tool in
assessing Best Value, but it was an important one. Partnerships
between the public and the private sectors were central to the
government’s aims of establishing first-class public services and
infrastructure, and promoting economic growth and regeneration. The
Private Finance Initiative, which was designed to facilitate such
partnerships, was applied vigorously at local level.
6–012 There is much in the preceding schema that has been retained, but it
has been modified in certain respects by the Localism Act 2011, which
is shaped by background ideals of the “Big Society”. The most salient
features of the 2011 Act for present purposes are as follows.
It gives local authorities a general competence to act, subject to
certain limitations. Thus, such authorities have the same power to act
that an individual generally has, and the power may be used in
innovative ways to do things unlike anything that a local authority has
done before, or may currently do.49 The Act enables Ministers to
transfer local public functions from central government and quangos to
local authorities, combined authorities and economic prosperity
boards, in order to improve local accountability or promote economic
growth.50 The Localism Act 2011 thus empowers local authorities.
It also empowers individuals and citizens as against the local
authority. Thus, the Act requires a relevant authority to consider an
expression of interest submitted by a voluntary or community body,
charity, parish council, or employees of the authority in relation to
providing or assisting in providing a service provided by or on behalf
of the local authority.51 The local authority must consider such
requests, accept them or reject them on grounds specified by the
secretary of state.52 The Localism Act 2011 also requires local
authorities to maintain a list of assets of community value which have
been nominated by the local community. When listed assets come up
for sale, the Act gives community groups the opportunity to bid and
buy the asset when it comes on the open market.53
D. Finances
6–013 The system of local authority finances is complex and only a general
outline can be provided here.
i. Resources
6–014 Local authorities do not have their own source of revenue derived
from local income tax. The traditional basis of local authority revenue
was the rates, which were levied upon property owners,54 combined
with income from charges and fees. These sources of revenue were
supplemented by grants from central government.
A radical change was brought about by the Local Government
Finance Act 1988, which replaced the rating system with the
community charge/poll tax. The objective was to increase the financial
accountability of local authorities. The rating system imposed the
financial burden on property owners. It was argued that many who
lived in an area could support expensive local policies, secure in the
knowledge that they would not have to bear the financial burden if
they were not liable to pay rates. The poll tax was to be levied on all
those who lived in an area, subject to certain exceptions, at a flat rate.
The political debacle caused by the poll tax is well known. The
poll tax was replaced by the council tax in the Local Government
Finance Act 1992. The tax is made up of a personal and a property
element, although each household only receives one bill. Properties are
valued through a banding system, so those houses in the same band
should receive the same bill. An obvious problem of any system based
upon property values is that the financial returns are susceptible to
fluctuation with movements in the value of property. The Localism
Act 2011
amended the 1992 Act to include novel provisions concerning the
determination as to whether a council tax rise is excessive and to
require a local referendum on such tax increases.55
6–015 Local authorities only ever derived part of their funds from rates, the
poll tax or the council tax. Grants from central government provided
approximately 80% of their funds. It is important to understand a little
history of this area.
In historical terms, the basic grant was the Rate Support Grant
(RSG),56 which provided some equalisation between the financial
resources and expenditure requirements of different local authorities.
The method of calculating the RSG was felt to be complex and prone
to encourage higher spending by local authorities. A new mechanism
for calculating the grant was therefore introduced in 1980.57 The
technique for calculating the grant was complex, and cannot be
examined here. The essential idea was to provide a simpler, more
equal system of grant allocation, which removed incentives for
“excessive spending”. Expenditure above the level of the grant would
have to be funded from rates. It was argued that such expenditure
would indicate that the local authority was seeking to provide a higher
level of service than was necessary, or that it was being inefficient.
These arguments are of questionable validity, as is the claim that the
new method of calculation is simpler.58
This attempt to curb local expenditure proved relatively ineffective
because many local authorities chose not to cut the provision of
services, but to raise the additional revenue from rates.59 This led to
the Rates Act 1984, which empowered the secretary of state to limit
the rating level of local authorities. The Act gave broad discretionary
power to the secretary of state,60 and this was used to “rate-cap” a
number of authorities. Local authorities used creative accounting to
enhance financial independence, and to make ends meet. The best
known of these devices was the “swaps” transaction, which was held
to be ultra vires by the House of Lords.61 The rationale for such
controls over local authority current expenditure was questionable.
The main foundation of the government’s argument was that it was
necessary for the success of its macro-economic strategy, which
entailed control of public expenditure and hence local authority
expenditure. Whether this justified the measures adopted is however
contested.62
The Labour government signalled a shift in thinking about curbs
on local authority expenditure.63 It acknowledged that central
government has a strong interest in local government’s taxation and
spending decisions, because of its
desire to ensure best value and because a significant proportion of
local spending is financed by the national taxpayer.64 Labour’s
strategy was based on a balance between local financial accountability,
and the existence of reserve powers for central government to
intervene where necessary. It abolished what it regarded as “crude and
universal capping”.65 The central government’s reserve powers were
structured more flexibly.66 The repeal of the previous capping
legislation and introduction of a more discriminating system to
regulate local authority expenditure were key features of the Local
Government Act 1999.67 The Coalition and Conservative
government’s approach to local authority grants was strongly
influenced by the need to reduce such expenditure as part of the more
general drive for savings in the light of the financial crisis.
(1970).
6 Local Government in England, Cmnd.4584 (1971).
ss.103–113D.
13 Department of the Environment, Transport and the Regions.
14 White Paper, Modern Local Government, In Touch with the People (1998),
Cm.4014.
15 White Paper, Modern Local Government, In Touch with the People (1998),
para.3.4.
16 White Paper, Modern Local Government, In Touch with the People (1998),
para.3.5.
17 White Paper, Modern Local Government, In Touch with the People (1998),
paras 3.6−3.7.
18 White Paper, Modern Local Government, In Touch with the People (1998),
para.3.14.
19 White Paper, Modern Local Government, In Touch with the People (1998),
paras 3.13, 3.39, 3.41−3.44.
20 Leigh, Law, Politics and Local Democracy (2000), pp.230−246.
24 Local Government Act 2000 ss.9C, 9H−9HE. See also, Local Democracy,
45 See Ch.5.
46 Department of Communities and Local Government, Strong and Prosperous
Communities (October, 2006).
47 White Paper, Modern Local Government, In Touch with the People, para.7.1.
48 White Paper, Modern Local Government, In Touch with the People (1998),
para.1.2.
49 Localism Act 2011 s.1.
54 Rating and Valuation Act 1925; Local Government Act 1948; Rating and
57 Local Government, Planning and Land Act 1980 ss.54−62; Local Government
60 Rates Act 1984 s.2; Local Government Finance Act 1987 ss.6, 7, 8.
1974), Ch.5.
74 Redcliffe-Maud Report, Cmnd.4040 (1969).
75 Griffith, Central Departments and Local Authorities (1966), pp.507−508.
(Gower, 1981).
82 Loughlin, Local Government in the Modern State (1986) Ch.9; J. Gyford,
88 Office of the Deputy Prime Minister, Strong Local Leadership, Quality Public
Services (2001).
89 Department of Communities and Local Government, Strong and Prosperous
Communities (October, 2006).
90 White Paper, Modern Local Government, In Touch with the People, para.3.14.
DEVOLUTION
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
7–001 i. The Blair Labour government’s programme of constitutional
reform included important devolution settlements. This chapter
focuses on the devolution regimes that apply to Scotland and
Wales. Limits of space preclude treatment of Northern Ireland.
ii. The Government of Wales Act 1998 and the Scotland Act 1998
brought major changes in the pattern of government for the UK.
Taken together with devolution of power in Northern Ireland and
reforms in the pattern of local government, they constituted a
significant change in the structure of political authority for the
UK.1
iii. There are various ways in which a devolution settlement can be
structured, but two forms predominate. The parent legislature
may retain all power other than that given to the devolved
legislature. The parent legislature may alternatively give all
power to the devolved legislature other than that which it
expressly retains. It should not be assumed that one schema is
necessarily more or less empowering for the devolved legislature,
since much depends on the extent to which power is given or
retained by the parent legislature, and on the detail with which the
distribution of power is specified in the enabling legislation.
iv. The “demand” for some form of devolution was greatest in
relation to Scotland. It was given expression in the Scotland Act
1998. The legislation established a Scottish Executive, now
known as the Scottish Government, and a Scottish Parliament.
The 1998 Act gives the Scottish Parliament plenary power to
legislate, except in relation to a long list of reserved matters set
out in the legislation. The subsequent analysis will examine the
legislative and executive powers accorded to Scotland, the
constraints placed on those powers through the list of reserved
matters, and the way in which the courts have interpreted these
constraints on Scottish legislative and executive power. We shall
also consider the future prospects for the devolution settlement.
v. The “demand” for some form of devolution was weaker in Wales,
and this was reflected in the terms of the Government of Wales
Act 1998. It embodied a devolution settlement for Wales, but the
powers accorded to the
Welsh authorities were considerably less than those given to
Scotland. The 1998 Act established a form of executive
devolution and the Welsh institutions were largely confined to
passage of subordinate legislation in areas devolved to them. The
limited nature of the powers accorded to Wales prompted calls for
reform and this led to the Government of Wales Act 2006. It
significantly increased the powers of the Welsh institutions, more
especially so after a referendum triggered the coming into effect
in 2011 of provisions of the 2006 Act allowing the National
Assembly to enact Assembly Acts.
2. SCOTLAND
A. Background
7–002 The history of Scottish nationalist and separatist sentiment is too rich
and diverse to be captured here, and no attempt will be made to do so.2
This brief background will, therefore, simply provide a chronology of
some important developments relating to the governance of Scotland.
A Secretaryship for Scotland and a Scottish Office were
established in 1885 with responsibility for a number of areas,
including education, health, the Poor Law, local government, police,
prisons, roads and public works. The following year the all-party
Scottish Home Rule Association was set up. The Scottish Secretary
became a full secretary of state in 1926, and in 1939 responsibility for
Scottish affairs of a number of departments was vested in him.
It was the upsurge in the fortunes of the Scottish National Party in
the late 1960s, combined with economic factors such as the discovery
of North Sea oil, which placed the future shape of the UK on the
political agenda. There was a growing sense that the Westminster
Parliament did not adequately address the concerns of those in
Scotland. We shall see in the discussion of Wales the impact this had
on the setting up of the Royal Commission on the Constitution. The
Labour government of 1974−1979 enacted the Scotland Act 1978,
which provided for devolution of power. The referendum in Scotland
was in favour of the measure, but not by the majority required for the
Act to become effective. The Act was then repealed by the
Conservative government on taking power in 1979.
The Conservative government under Margaret Thatcher had no
interest in devolution. When the Conservatives were re-elected in 1987
the Campaign for a Scottish Assembly created a group to draw up
plans for a constitutional convention. The committee published a
report in 1988 entitled A Claim of Right for Scotland, which
recommended that a scheme should be drawn up for a Scottish
Assembly. These plans gained further support because of a growing
sense of Scottish alienation, since the Conservatives who dominated
Westminster politics had a steadily declining share of the Scottish
vote. The Scottish Constitutional Convention (SCC) held its first
meeting in 1989. All parties were invited to attend, but the
Conservatives declined, and the SNP, after taking part in the
preparations for the Convention then withdrew. When the
Conservatives were re-elected in 1992 the SCC established a Scottish
Constitutional Commission to work out the details of their proposals.
The Commission reported in 1994, and its work was incorporated in
the SCC’s report presented in 1995. The document, Scotland’s
Parliament, Scotland’s Right, contained detailed proposals for a
Scottish Parliament. The return of a Labour government in 1996
brought the possibility of devolution on to the Westminster political
agenda.3
i. Devolution strategies
7–005 The Scottish Parliament has been given power to make primary laws.
Before examining its legislative powers it may be helpful to say
something more general about techniques for the devolution of
legislative power. There are in essence two approaches that can be
adopted. Central government can devolve all its power to the other
body, with the exception of reserved matters. It can, alternatively,
devolve specified matters, with the corollary that all other matters
remain within the power of the central authority. Both strategies have
been employed in the UK. The Government of Ireland Act 1920
adopted the first of these approaches, the Scotland Act 1978 the
second.
It is tempting to think that the first approach will be more generous
to the body to which power is devolved. There is no necessary reason
why this should be so. The method used is in this sense neutral,30
although there may well be symbolic differences between the two
approaches. This is because, even if the first approach is adopted, so
much turns on the list of reserved matters, as is apparent by
comparison of the list of such matters in the Government of Ireland
Act 1920 and the Scotland Act 1998. The list of reserved powers
contained in the former Act is relatively short, and relatively general.
The list contained in the Scotland Act 1998 is very long, contains
general reservations and a plethora of much more detailed specific
reservations.
Where the list of devolved or retained powers is long and complex
it is difficult for the lay person to know for certain whether action
really is within the power of the body to which authority has been
devolved. The Scotland Act 1978 adopted the second strategy of
providing a very detailed, complex list of devolved powers, on the
assumption that all else remained with the central authority. It
provoked the following comment from MacCormick.31 When reading
the material that follows it would be well to reflect on whether this
same sentiment might not apply to the Scotland Act 199832:
“One fears that only lawyers and civil servants, but by no means all of them, will be able to
work out or give reliable advice on the full meaning of the affirmations as qualified by the
negations. Beyond doubt, this complexity and difficulty of comprehension is a defect of the
Act. It infringes the principle of intelligibility of law, a principle most to be prized in
constitutional enactments.”
7–006 With these thoughts in mind we can now turn to the 1998 Act and
consider the legislative powers it accords. The Scottish Parliament is
given the power by s.28 of the SA to make primary laws, which are
known as Acts of the Scottish Parliament. Standing orders must make
provision for general debate on a Bill. There must be an opportunity
for MSPs to vote on its general principles; to consider and vote on the
details of a Bill; and for a final stage at which a Bill can be passed or
rejected.33 The Parliament’s legislative capacity is presumptively
general. It is however qualified in four ways.
First, s.28 does not affect the power of the Westminster Parliament
to make laws for Scotland,34 but it has been established by what is
known as the Sewel Convention that the Westminster Parliament will
not legislate on devolved matters without the consent of the Scottish
Parliament. The Sewel Convention has been embodied in the Scotland
Act 199835 as a result of the Scotland Act 2016.36
Secondly, the legislative competence of the Scottish Parliament is
bounded, and s.29(1) provides that an “Act of the Scottish Parliament
is not law so far as any provision of the Act is outside the legislative
competence of the Parliament”. The meaning of this section is not
beyond doubt. It could be interpreted to mean that if any provision of
the challenged Act is outside the Parliament’s legislative competence
then the Act itself is not law. This would be very draconian. It is also
not the most natural reading of the relevant words.37 The better
interpretation of s.29(1) is that the challenged Scottish Act is only not
law so far as the provisions are ultra vires. The remainder of the Act
that is untainted remains good law. There may however be occasions
where the invalidity of certain provisions of an Act prevents the
remainder from being viable legislation.
Thirdly, the Scotland Act was amended in 2016 to require a two
thirds majority relating to protected subject-matter, which means any
Bill that modifies, or confers power to modify: the persons entitled to
vote as electors for the Scottish Parliament; the system by which
members of the Parliament are returned; the number of constituencies,
regions or any equivalent electoral area; and the number of members
to be returned for each constituency, region or equivalent electoral
area.38
Fourthly, the Scotland Act 1998 was amended as a result of the
UK’s exit from the EU. The essence of the amendment is that an Act
of the Scottish Parliament
cannot modify, or confer power by subordinate legislation to modify,
retained EU law so far as the modification is of a description specified
in regulations made by a Minister of the Crown. This limit does not
however apply to any modification so far as it would, immediately
before exit day, have been within the legislative competence of the
Parliament.39
“(a) it would form part of the law of a country or territory other than Scotland, or confer or
remove functions exercisable otherwise than in or as regards Scotland,
(b) it relates to reserved matters,
(c) it is in breach of the restrictions in Schedule 4,
(d) it is incompatible with any Convention rights or in breach of the restriction in section
30A(1),
(e) it would remove the Lord Advocate from his position as head of the systems of criminal
prosecution and investigation of deaths in Scotland.”
7–008 Section 29(2)(b) requires further explanation because it leads to the list
of reserved matters, which is set out in Sch.5. This Schedule, which is
divided into three parts, is very lengthy and therefore only the broad
outlines of its provisions can be described here. Section 29(2)(b) states
that a matter is outside the competence of the Scottish Parliament if it
“relates” to reserved matters. Whether a provision of an Act of the
Scottish Parliament relates to a reserved matter is to be determined by
reference to the purpose of the provision having regard to its effects in
all the circumstances.43
Part I of Sch.5 deals with General Reservations and lists a number
of matters that are outside the competence of the Scottish Parliament.
Important aspects of the Constitution are one such category44: the
Crown, including succession to the Crown and a regency; the Union of
the Kingdoms of Scotland and England; the Parliament of the UK; the
continued existence of the High Court of Justiciary as a criminal court
of first instance and of appeal; and the continued existence of the
Court of Session as a civil court of first instance and of appeal. The
prerogative
and other executive functions are not, however, reserved matters.45 A
second general reservation relates to the registration and funding of
political parties.46 The conduct of foreign affairs and the regulation of
international trade, is not surprisingly another reserved matter.47 The
other general reservations relate to, the public service, defence and
treason.48
Part II of Sch.5 deals with Specific Reservations.49 A glance at this
part of the Act makes one realise that it will be difficult for the
Scottish Parliament to determine with certainty whether it has
legislative competence or not. This may lead to legal challenge to test
the correctness of the Parliament’s judgment on these matters.
Part II contains a large number of reserved heads, which are listed
as “Head A—Financial and Economic Matters”, “Head B—Home
Affairs”, “Head C—Trade and Industry” and so on, there being 11
such heads in total.50 Each of these Heads is then sub-divided into a
number of sections labelled in the case of, for example Trade and
Industry, which is Head C, from C1−C16. The list of the sub-divisions
which apply for Trade and Industry relate to: business associations;
insolvency; competition; intellectual property; import and export
control; sea fishing; consumer protection; product standards, safety
and liability; weights and measures; telecommunications and wireless
telegraphy; Post Office, posts and postal services; Research Councils;
designation of assisted areas; Industrial Development Advisory Board;
and the protection of trading and economic interests.
The legal advisor’s task of indicating whether the Scottish
Parliament has competence or not is made more difficult by the style
of drafting used in Pt II. On some occasions the reserved heads are set
out at a high level of generality, without mentioning any existing
statute. On other occasions the reserved heads will specify a particular
section of a particular statute which is off-limits for the Scottish
Parliament. On yet other occasions it will stipulate that the subject-
matter dealt with by an entire statute is outside the legislative
competence of the Scottish Parliament. The format of Pt II is further
complicated by the fact that these styles are often accompanied by
exceptions, which allow the Scottish Parliament to legislate within the
area thus stipulated, by interpretive statements designed to clarify the
reach of the reserved head, and by illustrations aimed at clarifying the
meaning of generally worded statements. These differing techniques
will not infrequently be used within the same sub-division.51
Part III of Sch.5 has a more institutional focus. This is somewhat
strange given that the Schedule is about “Reserved Matters”: it is
difficult to see how an institution as such can be a reserved matter. The
gist of this Part of the Schedule
is nonetheless to reserve certain bodies, or to clarify which bodies are
not reserved. Thus, for example, a body mentioned by name in Pt II of
Sch.5 is a reserved body, as is the Commission for Racial Equality, the
Equal Opportunities Commission and the Disability Rights
Commission.52 The effect of being denoted as such a body is to
reserve its constitution and its functions. Thus, it is outside the bounds
of the Scottish Parliament’s power to pass legislation that would
interfere with the constitution or functions of these bodies.
Section 29(2)(b) and Sch.5 are reinforced by s.29(2)(c). This latter
section brings Sch.4 into play, para.2(1) of which states that an Act of
the Scottish Parliament cannot modify, or confer power by subordinate
legislation to modify, the law on reserved matters. It is clear that the
“law on reserved matters” covers any enactment whose subject matter
is reserved, which is comprised in an Act of Parliament or subordinate
legislation made there under. It also covers any rule of law that is not
contained in an enactment where the subject-matter is a reserved
matter.53 There is an exception where the modification is incidental to
a provision that does not relate to the reserved matter, provided that
the modification does not have a greater effect on reserved matters
than is necessary to give effect to the purpose of the provision.54 The
Scottish Parliament can, however, restate the law.55
7–009 First, there is the issue concerning the general construction of the
Scotland Act. The Supreme Court in AXA56 made it clear that while
Scottish legislation, emanating from a non-sovereign body, was
subject to the supervisory jurisdiction of the UK courts, it was
nonetheless made by a body with plenary authority over its assigned
area, subject to the limits in s.29. The consequence was the legislation
did not have to be made for a specific purpose, or with regard to
particular considerations, and accountability lay primarily to the
electorate rather than the courts. A further consequence was that
common law tools of judicial review such as irrationality, developed
for review of administrative bodies, were constitutionally
inappropriate when reviewing Scottish legislation, although the
Supreme Court did reserve the right to review on grounds other than
those in s.29 in exceptional instances where the challenged legislation
abrogated fundamental rights or the rule of law. The Supreme Court
addressed this issue again in a case that arose from Brexit, In re UK
Withdrawal from the European Union (Legal Continuity) (Scotland)
Bill.57 The case involved a challenge brought by UK law officers to a
Bill of the Scottish Parliament, on the ground that it was outside the
competence of the Scottish Parliament as defined in s.29. The Supreme
Court
held, inter alia, that the Scotland Act 1998 should be interpreted in the
same way as any other statute. The courts should, however58:
“have regard to its aim to achieve a constitutional settlement and therefore recognise the
importance of giving a consistent and predictable interpretation of the Scotland Act so that
the Scottish Parliament has a coherent, stable and workable system within which to exercise
its legislative power. This is achieved by interpreting the rules as to competence in the
Scotland Act according to the ordinary meaning of the words used.”
7–019 The SA allows the relevant law officer to institute proceedings for the
determination of a devolution issue. The Lord Advocate will normally
be the defendant in such actions.110 The law officers have the power to
require the devolution issue to be referred to the Supreme Court, as
described above, but may choose not to exercise this power.
7–020 The discussion thus far, has focused on the role of the law officers in
enforcing the limits to the Scottish Parliament’s power. Devolution
issues may, however, arise in the course of proceedings involving
individuals, or between an individual and a public body. The Act
contemplates such actions.111 It makes provision in such instances for
the referral of devolution issues from one court to another.
Proceedings which raise devolution issues may occur in Scotland
itself, in England and Wales or in Northern Ireland. The SA
establishes a reference system for all three jurisdictions. The
description which follows applies in relation to England and Wales.
In non-criminal proceedings, magistrates’ courts can refer
devolution issues to the High Court.112 Other courts cases may refer
such issues to the Court of Appeal.113 In criminal cases, a court, other
than the Court of Appeal or the Supreme Court, can refer a devolution
issue to the High Court, in the case of summary proceedings, or the
Court of Appeal in the case of proceedings on indictment.114 Tribunals
from which there is no appeal must refer to the Court of Appeal, and
may make a reference in other instances.115 The Court of Appeal can
refer any devolution issue which comes before it, other than on a
reference as described above, to the Supreme Court.116
Appeals from the High Court or the Court of Appeal on devolution
issues lie to the Supreme Court. Permission is required for such an
appeal from the High Court or Court of Appeal, or from the Supreme
Court.117
7–021 The court immediately seized of the matter has the power to refer the
matter in the manner described above. It does not have the duty to do
so, subject to being compelled to make a reference by the intervention
of a law officer.
i. Political considerations
7–026 The Scotland Act 2012 amended the Scotland Act 1998: it made some
changes to the list of devolved matters; formally changed the
nomenclature from Scottish
Executive to Scottish Government, thus making legal form catch up
with political reality; modified the powers of the Lord Advocate; and
extended s.102 of the SA to allow the courts to limit the retrospective
effect of ultra vires decisions of the Scottish Government. The most
important change made by the legislation was, however, to increase
Scotland’s financial autonomy, pursuant to recommendations from the
Calman Commission,132 such that the Scottish Parliament can set its
own rate of income tax, and gain revenue from certain other taxes,
dealing with land transactions and waste disposal, which are devolved
to Scotland.
The political parties opposed to independence in the 2014
referendum promised devolution of further powers if Scotland
remained within the UK. The cross-party Smith Commission was set
up after the referendum in order to carry this promise forward. The
Scotland Act 2016, which amends the Scotland Act 1998, implements
recommendations from the Smith Commission.
Its principal provisions stipulate that the Scottish Parliament and
the Scottish Government are considered permanent parts of the UK’s
constitutional arrangements and will not be abolished without a
decision of the Scottish people of Scotland; that the UK Parliament
will not normally legislate in relation to devolved matters without the
consent of the Scottish Parliament, while retaining the sovereignty to
do so; it gives increased autonomy to the Scottish Parliament and the
Scottish Ministers in relation to the operation of Scottish Parliament
and local government elections in Scotland; it gives increased
autonomy to the Scottish Parliament to amend sections of the Scotland
Act 1998 which relate to the operation of the Scottish Parliament and
the Scottish Government within the UK; it increases the financial
accountability of the Scottish Parliament; it devolves further welfare
powers to Scotland; and also augments the Scottish Parliament’s
powers over areas such as energy.
Much will still turn on the way in which the courts treat challenges
to the competence of the Scottish Parliament. The law officers will be
wary of using their power to refer to the Supreme Court where a clash
between an Act of the Scottish Parliament and a reserved matter is not
relatively clear.133 This is borne out by the Memorandum of
Understanding, which states that a reference to the Supreme Court on a
vires issue will be seen “very much as a matter of last resort”.134 The
emphasis is squarely placed on resolving problems through discussion.
The very fact that the matter being challenged is an Act of the Scottish
Parliament is, moreover, likely to make the courts wary of finding that
its provisions are ultra vires. This is all the more so given the presence
of the interpretative obligation contained in the SA, encouraging the
courts to give a narrow reading to a provision in Scottish legislation in
order to render it legal.135
The Scottish Parliament will, nonetheless, have to be aware of the
“judge over its shoulders” when framing legislation. The Parliament’s
legal advisers will have to scrutinise Scottish Bills carefully to ensure
that they do not impinge on reserved matters. This is equally true of
actions of the Scottish Government.136 The fact that the member of the
Scottish Government in charge of the Bill states that, in his view, it is
within the competence of the Scottish Parliament, and that this is
affirmed by the Presiding Office, are mere statements of opinion,
which do not bind the courts.137
3. WALES
A. Background
7–028 Proposals for devolution to Wales are not new, but go back for
approximately 100 years.144 While Gladstone could claim that the
distinction between England and Wales was unknown to our
constitution, it was during his period in office that the issue of home
rule for Wales began to emerge. It was no coincidence that this
occurred when the franchise was extended in 1867 and 1884, since this
brought politics to many in Wales for the first time. By the early 1890s
Lloyd George was urging home rule for Wales. This early initiative
failed because the Welsh liberals were divided on the issue, because
these divisions grew with the industrialisation of South Wales, and
because this very industrialisation led to the collapse of the Liberal
Party.145
The post-war years saw the growing recognition of Wales as a
separate area of concern within central government. In 1951 a Minister
for Welsh Affairs was established, in 1957 a separate Minister of State
was appointed as the first full-time Minister for Wales, and in 1964
this post was upgraded to secretary of state, with the holder being
given a place in the Cabinet.
The attitude of the Labour Party during the 1960s and 1970s was
mixed. It derived considerable support from Wales, which inclined it
to take Welsh concerns seriously, but it also had a strong belief in the
need for nationalisation and economic planning, both of which
inclined it towards centralisation. A catalyst for central action during
this period was the success of the SNP, which had achieved this
largely at the expense of the Labour Party.
A Royal Commission on the Constitution was established, initially
under Lord Crowther, and then under Lord Kilbrandon.146 The
Commission reported in 1973, shortly before Labour returned to power
in 1974. There was a good deal of disagreement among the members
of the Commission, although they were united in rejecting separation,
federalism or the status quo. A number of different devolution options
were suggested.
7–029 The response of the Labour government was to opt for a minimal form
of devolution for Wales. The proposed Assembly was to have
executive powers only, with no power to raise revenue. This model
was the basis of the Wales Act 1978. The entry into force of the Act
was, however, predicated on approval in a referendum by 40% of
those who were eligible to vote. This approval was never forthcoming.
The voters rejected the idea of a Welsh Assembly by four to one.
Labour returned to power in 1996 after 17 years of Conservative
rule. The Labour Party was committed to devolution as part of its
project of constitutional reform. Devolution to Wales was enshrined in
the Government of Wales Act 1998.147 A referendum was held in
1997, and on this occasion the voters were in
favour of a Welsh Assembly. The margin was, nonetheless, perilously
thin. It turned on approximately 7,000 votes out of 1,100,000. The yes
vote was 50.3%, the no vote 49.7%, and the turn out a meagre 50.1%.
The GWA 1998 only provided for executive devolution. The
National Assembly for Wales in effect assumed the responsibilities
hitherto exercised by the Secretary of State for Wales. In 2002 those
exercising executive powers on behalf of the National Assembly
adopted the title “Welsh Assembly Government”, and appointed a
Commission under the chairmanship of Lord Richard to review the
operation of devolution in Wales. The Richard Report recommended
that the Assembly should be able to make primary legislation for
Wales.148 This was the catalyst for the White Paper on Better
Governance for Wales,149 which laid the foundations for the
Government of Wales Act 2006 (GWA 2006). This legislation, as
amended by the Wales Act 2014, now provides the framework for
Welsh devolution. Relations between the Welsh Assembly, the Welsh
Government, and the UK government continue to be regulated through
the Memorandum of Understanding considered above.150
B. The Assembly
i. Composition
7–030 Section A1 of the GWA 2006, as amended in 2020, provides that the
National Assembly of Wales, renamed the Senedd Cymru, and the
Welsh Government, are a permanent part of the constitutional
arrangements of the UK, and will not be abolished unless there is vote
to that effect in a Welsh referendum. Section A2 GWA states that the
law that applies in Wales includes a body of law made by the Senedd
and the Welsh government, thereby recognising their capacity to make
law forming part of the law of England and Wales.
Section 1 of the GWA 2006, as amended, establishes the Senedd
Cymru or Welsh Parliament, replacing the previous nomenclature of
National Assembly for Wales. Ordinary elections for the return of the
Assembly normally take place every fifth year.151 The Senedd consists
of one member for each constituency, and members for each electoral
region.152 Voters have two votes.153 The constituency vote is given for
the candidate for a Senedd constituency and the election is based
on the simple majority system.154 The electoral region vote is given for
a registered political party that has submitted a list of candidates for
the electoral region in which the Senedd constituency is included, or
an individual who is a candidate to be a Senedd member for that
region.155 There are five electoral regions, each of which returns four
members.156 Voting for electoral regions is based on the additional
member system of proportional representation.157 The result is an
Assembly of 60 members, 40 of whom are elected from Assembly
constituencies, the other 20 from regions.
ii. Operation
C. The Executive
i. Composition
7–032 The GWA 2006 differs from the GWA 1998 in relation to executive
power. The scheme in the GWA 1998 was in effect that the executive
was constituted as a committee of the Assembly,167 although there was
much to suggest that it acted like a cabinet.
The GWA 2006 by way of contrast makes distinct provision for
what is now formally called the Welsh Government. The government
consists of the First Minister, Welsh Ministers, Deputy Welsh
Ministers and the Counsel General to the Welsh Assembly.168 The
First Minister, who must be a member of the Senedd, is appointed by
the Queen, after being nominated by the Assembly,169 and holds office
at Her Majesty’s pleasure.170 It is then for the First Minister to appoint
the Welsh Ministers from among the Assembly members,171 with an
upper limit of 12 such appointments.172
ii. Functions
7–033 The GWA 2006 specifies distinct functions for the Welsh
Government. Thus, Welsh ministers have those functions conferred on
them by the 2006 Act itself, or by any other enactment or prerogative
instrument.173 Many such functions were transferred to the National
Assembly for Wales under the GWA 1998, and were effectively
exercised by the members of the executive.174 Under the GWA 2006
executive functions are transferred directly to the Welsh government.
When a function is conferred on Welsh ministers it can be
exercised by any of the ministers.175 There is a mechanism for the
transfer to the Welsh ministers, or specifically to the First Minister or
to the Counsel General, of functions in relation to Wales which are
exercisable by a minister of the Crown, or for the concurrent exercise
of those functions by Welsh ministers and the minister of the
Crown.176 The Welsh ministers have been given certain common law
type powers.177 They are moreover accorded a broad power to do
anything which they consider is appropriate to achieve the promotion
of the economic, social or environmental well-being of Wales,178 and
power to take appropriate action in relation to culture, such as
buildings of historical or architectural interest.179 The GWA 2006 also
makes provision for liaison mechanisms between the Welsh
Government and local authorities, the voluntary sector and business
interests in Wales.180
The GWA 2006 imposes obligations as well as powers on the
Welsh Government. Thus, it is enjoined to: create a code for
regulatory impact assessments; to make arrangements to ensure that
their functions are exercised
with due regard for equality of opportunity for all people; to adopt a
strategy for how it is to promote the Welsh language; and to make a
scheme for sustainable development.181 The Welsh ministers also have
an obligation to implement retained EU law,182 and cannot exercise
their powers if they violate Convention rights.183 There is further
provision dealing with compliance with international obligations.184
D. Powers
7–034 The GWA 2006 has enhanced the lawmaking powers of the Senedd,
but these still fall short of those accorded to the Scottish Parliament.
The schema in the GWA 2006 is as follows.
i. Assembly Measures
7–035 Under the GWA 2006 Pt 3, the Assembly was given power to make
laws, which were termed Measures of the National Assembly for
Wales,185 although this did not affect the power of the UK Parliament
to make laws for Wales.186 An Assembly Measure could, in principle,
make any provision that could be made by an Act of Parliament.187 An
Assembly Measure was not law so far as any of its provisions fell
outside the Assembly’s legislative competence.188 A provision of an
Assembly Measure was within the Assembly’s legislative competence
in two types of case.
First, the provision of an Assembly Measure had to relate to one or
more of the matters specified in Pt 1 of Sch.5, and not apply outside
Wales.189 Secondly, a provision of an Assembly Measure could
alternatively fall within the Assembly’s competence if it provided for
the enforcement of a provision that was within the Assembly’s
competence, or it was otherwise appropriate for making such a
provision effective, or it was otherwise incidental to, or consequential
on, such a provision.190
A provision which satisfied one of the two preceding conditions
would nonetheless fall outside the Assembly’s legislative competence
if: it breached any of the restrictions in Pt 2 of Sch.5, subject to
exceptions in Pt 3 of that Schedule; it extended otherwise than only to
England and Wales; or it was incompatible with Convention rights or
with EU law.191
Part 3 of the GWA 2006 that deals with Assembly measures was,
however, repealed when the new provisions concerning Assembly
Acts came into force in 2011.192 The repeal does not affect the validity
of Assembly measures in force.
7–036 The GWA 2006 Pt 4 makes provision for the Assembly to have
primary legislative power in relation to subject matter that is within its
competence without the need for further recourse to Parliament. Thus,
when Pt 4 of the 2006 GWA became operative there was no need to
seek authorisation for a particular exercise of legislative competence in
the manner described above in relation to Assembly Measures. Part 4
of the GWA 2006 became operational on 5 May 2011, after a positive
vote in a referendum.193 The amendment to the GWA 2006 by the
Wales Act 2017 transformed the devolution regime for Wales into a
reserved powers model, from what had hitherto been a conferral
model. Thus, the Senedd now has legislative power to make law on
any subject, save for the reservations specified in Sch.7A, and the
other limits on competence set out in GWA 2006 s.108A.
An Act of the Senedd is not law so far as any of its provisions are
outside its competence.194 Senedd legislation made in exercise of this
“primary” legislative power is known as Acts of the Senedd Cymru.195
This does not prevent the UK Parliament legislating for Wales, but the
GWA states that the UK Parliament will not normally do so without
the consent of the Senedd.196
E. Judicial Challenge
7–038 The Senedd and Welsh government have limited powers and the GWA
2006 makes provision for legal challenge to ensure that they do not
stray beyond their respective powers.199 The rules are contained in
Sch.9, para.1(1) of which defines the phrase “devolution issue” to
mean:
“(a) a question whether a Senedd Measure or Act of the Senedd, or any provision of a
Senedd Measure or Act of the Senedd, is within the Senedd’s legislative competence,
(b) a question whether any function (being a function which any person has purported, or is
proposing, to exercise) is exercisable by the Welsh Ministers, the First Minister or the
Counsel General,
a question whether the purported or proposed exercise of a function by the Welsh
(c) Ministers, the First Minister or the Counsel General is, or would be, within the powers
of the Welsh Ministers, the First Minister or the Counsel General (including a question
whether a purported or proposed exercise of a function is, or would be, outside those
powers by virtue of section 80(8) or 81(1)),
(d) a question whether there has been any failure to comply with a duty imposed on the
Welsh Ministers, the First Minister or the Counsel General (including any obligation
imposed by virtue of section 80(1) or (7)), or
(e) a question of whether a failure to act by the Welsh Ministers, the First Minister or the
Counsel General is incompatible with any of the Convention rights.”
7–040 The GWA allows the Attorney General or Counsel General to institute
proceedings for the determination of a devolution issue.203 The law
officer has the power to require the devolution issue to be referred to
the Supreme Court, as described above, but may choose not to exercise
this power.
7–041 A devolution issue can also arise before a court that is empowered by
the GWA to refer the matter on to another court. The relevant rules
distinguish between civil and criminal proceedings. The rules
discussed within this section relate to referral. It is the devolution issue
that is referred to the higher court. When this matter has been decided
the case returns to the lower court for final resolution of the case.
There will, however, be cases where the resolution of the devolution
issue will be conclusive for the entire dispute.
The rules on civil proceedings are that a magistrate’s court may
refer a devolution issue to the High Court.204 A court may refer a
devolution issue that arises in civil proceedings to the Court of
Appeal,205 but this does not apply to a
magistrates’ court, the Court of Appeal or the Supreme Court, nor to
the High Court taking a reference from a magistrates’ court pursuant to
para.6.206 Civil proceedings are defined by the Act to mean any
proceedings other than criminal proceedings.207 It therefore includes
proceedings for judicial review.
If the devolution issue arises in criminal proceedings then a court,
other than the Court of Appeal or the Supreme Court, may refer the
issue to the High Court in the case of summary proceedings or to the
Court of Appeal if the proceedings are on indictment.208
7–042 It is open to the Court of Appeal to refer a devolution issue that has
come before it other than by way of reference from a lower court on to
the Supreme Court.209 This option will be open to it where the
devolution issue emerges in proceedings before the Court of Appeal
itself.
The discussion thus far, has concentrated on courts. Tribunals are
treated somewhat differently. A tribunal from which there is no appeal
must refer the devolution issue to the Court of Appeal. Where there is
an appeal from the tribunal’s findings it has discretion to refer, but
does not have a duty to do so.210
Provision is made for an appeal against a determination of a
devolution issue by the High Court or the Court of Appeal when a
reference has been made to those courts in the manner described
above. The appeal lies to the Supreme Court, but only with the
permission of the court concerned, or failing such permission, with
special permission from the Supreme Court.211
7–045 The Supreme Court has held that despite its constitutional significance,
the GWA 2006 had to be interpreted in the same way as any other Act.
However, any difficulties of interpretation were to be resolved by
bearing in mind that its purpose was to define, in fairly abstract terms,
permitted or prohibited areas of legislative activity with the aim of
achieving a constitutional settlement.214 In that sense it will, therefore,
try to interpret Welsh legislation to be intra rather than ultra vires,
although the Supreme Court has also found an Assembly measure to
be ultra vires.215
The GWA 2006 deals with acts of the Assembly or the Welsh
government that are ultra vires in a number of ways. The secretary of
state has broad powers to initiate the making of a statutory instrument,
which can modify any enactment or instrument that lies beyond the
legislative competence of the Assembly.216 There is a further broad
power to remedy ultra vires acts by Order in Council.217
The GWA 2006 also makes provision for what is to happen if a
court or a tribunal decides that the Senedd or Welsh government did
not have the power to make the relevant measure. The basic
assumption behind s.153 is that the effect of the judicial decision
finding the lack of power is that the measure is retrospectively null.
Section 153(2) empowers the court or tribunal to make an order
removing or limiting any retrospective effect of the decision, or
suspending the effect of the decision for any period and on any
conditions to allow the defect to be corrected. In deciding whether to
make such an order the court or tribunal is to have regard to the extent
to which persons who are not parties to the proceedings would
otherwise be adversely affected by the decision.218 When considering
making such an order the court, etc. must give notice of that fact to the
relevant law officer, unless they are already party to the proceedings.
They can join the proceedings so far as they relate to the making of the
order.219
6 SA s.1(2).
7 SA Sch.1 para.1.
8 SA s.1(3).
9 SA Sch.1 para.2.
10 SA s.6.
11 SA s.11(1).
14 SA s.20.
15 SA s.21(2).
16 SA s.21(3).
17 SA Sch.2 para.4(1).
20 SA Sch.3 para.3(1).
21 SA s.39.
23 SA s.44(1).
24 SA s.44(2).
25 SA s.59.
26 SA s.51.
27 SA s.45.
28 SA s.46(1).
29 SA s.47(1)−(2). The same regime applies for the appointment of Scottish Law
Officers: s.48.
30 Constitution Unit, Scotland’s Parliament, Fundamentals for New Scotland Act
(1996).
31 N. MacCormick “Constitutional Points’”, in D. Mackay (ed.), Scotland: The
Framework for Change (Harris, 1979), pp.53−54.
32 See, however, the more positive tone of N. MacCormick, “Sovereignty or
Subsidiarity? Some Comments on Scottish Devolution”, in A. Tomkins (ed.),
Devolution and the British Constitution (1998), Ch.1.
33 SA s.36(1).
34 SA s.28(7).
35 SA s.28(8).
40 SA s.31(1).
41 SA s.31(2).
42 SA s.29(2).
43 SA s.29(3); Imperial Tobacco Ltd v Lord Advocate [2012] UKSC 61. See also
45 SA Sch.5 Pt I para.2(1).
46 SA Sch.5 Pt I para.6.
47 SA Sch.5 Pt I para.7(1). The implementation of international obligations,
including those flowing from EU law and the ECHR, is not a reserved matter,
Sch.5 para.7(2).
48 SA Sch.5 Pt I paras 8−10.
49 It is also the case that SA Sch.4 para.1 prevents the Scottish Parliament from
modifying certain legislative provisions including, inter alia, the Human Rights
Act 1998.
50 The other Heads are: Energy, Transport, Social Security, Regulation of the
Professions, Employment, Health and Medicines, Media and Culture and
Miscellaneous.
51 See, e.g. SA Sch.5 Pt II, ss.D1, E1, E3 and F1.
53 SA Sch.4 para.2(2).
54 SA Sch.4 para.3(1).
55 SA Sch.4 para.7(1).
69 SA s.52(1)–(3).
70 SA s.53(1).
71 SA s.53(2).
74 SA s.53(1).
75 SA ss.54(2)−(3).
77 SA s.57(2),(4)–(5).
80 SA s.63.
81 SA s.117.
82 SA s.118(1).
83 SA ss.52−54.
84 SA s.53(3). The matter is not entirely free from doubt for two reasons First,
89 Ministers of the Crown Act 1975 s.8(1) which provides that: “In this Act …
‘Minister of the Crown’ means the holder of an office in Her Majesty’s
Government in the United Kingdom, and includes the Treasury, the Board of
Trade and the Defence Council”.
90 R. Brazier, Ministers of the Crown (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996),
p.24.
91 Brazier, Ministers of the Crown (1996), pp.30−31.
97 SA s.58(4).
98 SA ss.58(1)−(2).
105 SA s.32(3).
106 SA s.32A.
107 SA Sch.6 paras 5−6, 16−17, 26−27. Which Law officers must be notified
depends on where the proceedings initially arise, Scotland, England and Wales
or Northern Ireland.
108 SA Sch.6 para.33.
113 SA Sch.6 para.19, with the exception of magistrates’ courts, the Court of
Appeal or the Supreme Court, or the High Court where acting under para.18.
114 SA Sch.6 para.21.
115 SA Sch.6 para.20.
118 SA Sch.6.
120 SA s.107.
122 SA s.102(2).
123 SA s.102(3).
124 SA s.102(4).
132 Serving Scotland Better: Scotland and the UK in the 21st Century (2009).
133 The first such case was UK Withdrawal from the European Union (Legal
Continuity) (Scotland) Bill [2019] A.C. 1022 SC.
134 Memorandum of Understanding and Supplementary Agreements between the
UKSC 46.
136 S. Tierney, “Convention Rights and the Scotland Act: Re-defining Judicial
Roles” [2001] P.L. 38; B. Winetrobe, “Scottish Devolved Legislation and the
Courts” [2002] P.L. 31.
137 Anderson [2003] 2 A.C. 602 at [7].
https://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20170701074158/http://www.g
ov.scot/About/Government/concordats [accessed 25 January 2021].
141 G. Clark, “Scottish Devolution and the European Union” [1999] P.L. 504.
142 R. Cornes, “Intergovernmental Relations in a Devolved United Kingdom:
Making Devolution Work”, in Hazell (ed.), Constitutional Futures, A History of
the Next Ten Years (1999), Ch.9; R. Rawlings, “Concordats of the Constitution”
(2000) 116 L.Q.R. 257.
143 J. Poirier, “The Functions of Intergovernmental Agreements: Post-
Devolution Concordats in a Comparative Perspective” [2001] P.L. 134.
144 Constitution Unit, An Assembly for Wales (1996).
Cmnd.5460 (1973).
147 For a valuable account of the early operation of the 1998 Act, R. Rawlings,
“The New Model Wales” (1998) 25 J.L.S. 461; R. Rawlings, Delineating Wales:
Constitutional, Legal and Administrative Aspects of National Devolution
(University of Wales Press, 2003).
148 Richard Commission, Report on the Powers and Electoral Arrangements of
the National Assembly for Wales (2004); R. Rawlings, Say Not the Struggle
Naught Availeth: The Richard Commission and after (Centre for Welsh Legal
Affairs, University of Wales, 2004); T. Jones and J. Williams, “The Legislative
Future of Wales” (2005) 68 M.L.R. 642.
149 White Paper, Better Governance for Wales (2005), Cm.6582; R. Rawlings,
“Hastening Slowly: The Next Phase of Welsh Devolution” [2005] P.L. 824.
150 Memorandum of Understanding and Supplementary Agreements between the
158 GWA 2006 s.31; Standing Orders of the National Assembly of Wales,
available at:
https://senedd.wales/NAfW%20Documents/Assembly%20Business%20section%
20documents/Standing_Orders/Clean_SOs.eng.pdf [accessed 25 January 2021].
159 GWA 2006 s.35(1).
174 The first TFO transferred UK Minister of the Crown functions to the
National Assembly for Wales under some 350 Acts and 32 Statutory
Instruments, The National Assembly for Wales (Transfer of Functions) Order
1999 (SI 672/1999).
175 GWA 2006 s.57.
199 For discussion of analogous provisions under the GWA 1998, P. Craig and
M. Walters, “The Courts, Devolution and Judicial Review” [1999] P.L. 274.
200 GWA 2006 Sch.9 para.2.
212 See, e.g. South Wales Sea Fisheries Committee v National Assembly for
Wales [2001] EWHC Admin 1162.
213 See Ch.27.
214 Attorney General v National Assembly for Wales Commission [2012] UKSC
53; Attorney General for England and Wales v Counsel General for Wales
[2014] UKSC 43.
215 Recovery of Medical Costs for Asbestos Diseases (Wales) Bill, Re [2015]
UKSC 3.
216 GWA 2006 s.150.
221 National Assembly Advisory Group, Report to the Secretary of State for
Wales (August 1998), section 2, paras 7, 19, 21 and 32.
222 Standing Orders of the National Assembly of Wales (2011).
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
8–001 i. The flourishing of a healthy democracy, in which governmental
organs are accountable for their actions, depends on a range of
factors. There are nonetheless certain factors that generally
enhance accountability, irrespective of the specific nature of the
institution in question.
ii. This chapter examines three such matters: access to information,
standards in public life and complaints machinery, principally in
the form of the Ombudsman model. These issues are central to
the relationship between government and governed.
iii. Access to information is vital if there is to be an informed public,
which can participate in public life and hold the government to
account.
iv. Standards of propriety are equally essential, since if they are not
adhered to public trust in the soundness of governmental policy
will suffer.
v. Mechanisms whereby individuals can voice complaints outside of
the traditional court system now play an increasingly important
role in monitoring the administration of government policy.
vi. There is a micro- and macro-perspective to the issues addressed
in this chapter. The former focuses primarily on the position of
the specific individual, whether this is as seeker of information,
target of a complaint of breach of standards, or applicant who
seeks redress for maladministration.
vii. The macro-perspective looks to more systemic concerns. In the
context of access to information, this may be the desire to combat
a culture of secrecy and to foster citizen participation in public
life. In relation to standards of government, it will be apparent in
initiatives designed to imbue an ethical code among those in
power, and to structure appointments so as to maximise
transparency and opportunity. In the context of complaints
machinery, it becomes apparent in the debate as to whether the
Parliamentary Commissioner for Administration should be able to
conduct more general administrative audits, as well as being able
to respond to individual applicants.
A. General
8–016 In the late 1950s there was increasing concern over administration.
The Crichel Down affair, which was a catalyst for the Franks
Committee, proved to be outside its terms of reference. In 1961,
Justice67 published a report, which made two suggestions. There were
recommendations for a General Tribunal to deal with a miscellaneous
group of appeals. This suggestion was not adopted. The report also
considered the possibility of machinery to deal with
maladministration. While the courts could tackle some such instances,
others might not be reviewable, or such control might be inappropriate.
The inspiration for the subsequent proposals was the Ombudsman in
Scandinavian countries, an independent and impartial person who
would investigate complaints of maladministration made by members
of the public.
Largely as a result of these recommendations the Parliamentary
Commissioner Act 1967 was passed, appointing a Parliamentary
Commissioner for Administration68 (PCA).69 The PCA is appointed
by the Crown and holds office for the period for which he or she is
appointed, which cannot be more than seven years. The incumbent
may be removed from office as a result of an address from both
Houses of Parliament.
The idea of having an Ombudsman to provide a check on
maladministration has taken hold in other areas. The work of the
Health Service Commissioner and the Local Government
Commissioners will be considered below.70 There is a PCA for
Northern Ireland,71 and provision has been made for investigative
machinery in relation to the Scottish Parliament and the Welsh
Assembly.72
There is now an Ombudsman in important areas such as73:
Pensions,74 Financial Services,75 Energy Supply,76 Estate Agents,77
Prisons and Probation,78 and Legal Services.79
8–019 Provided that the action is taken by a body listed in the Act, and the
action is taken in the exercise of administrative functions, the PCA is
empowered to investigate claims of injustice resulting from
maladministration, which have been referred by a Member of
Parliament.85
The term maladministration is not defined in the Act.86 A sense of
what the legislature intended is to be derived from the Crossman
catalogue which included bias, neglect, inattention, delay,
incompetence, ineptitude, arbitrariness and the like. The PCA has
defined maladministration to mean poor administration or the wrong
application of rules.87 Examples include: avoidable delay; faulty
procedures or failure to follow correct procedures; not telling the
individual about appeal rights; unfairness, bias or prejudice; giving
misleading or inadequate advice; refusing to answer reasonable
questions; discourtesy; mistakes in handling claims; and not offering
an adequate remedy where one is due.88
In reality the defects most commonly found are failing to provide
information, misapplication of departmental rules, misleading advice,
unjustifiable delay and
inconsiderate behaviour. The PCA frequently criticises discretionary
administrative action because a relevant consideration has not been
taken into account, or the evidence has not been properly collated prior
to making the decision.
8–022 The PCA is not authorised to question the merits of a decision taken
without maladministration by a government department or other
authority in the exercise of discretion.90 The purpose of this provision
is not entirely clear. It seems merely to restate the requirement from
s.5(1), that maladministration is a condition precedent to the exercise
of the PCA’s jurisdiction.
It might, however, be taken to indicate that the maladministration
must reside in the procedure by which the decision was made. This
interpretation was adopted by the first PCA. He drew a distinction
between the procedure leading to a decision and the decision itself.
The latter he regarded as outside his competence, even if it resulted in
manifest hardship to the complainant. The Select Committee regarded
this interpretation as over-restrictive,91 and the PCA subsequently
broadened his perspective.
A similar caution initially constrained the PCA in relation to
departmental rules and regulations. The Select Committee, once again,
encouraged a broader interpretation,92 enabling the PCA to consider
the effect of statutory instruments and the action taken to review their
operation, with a wider jurisdiction in relation to rules that were not
statutory instruments.
Complaints about the content of government policy or legislation
are, however, not within the PCA’s remit: the former is for the
government, the latter for Parliament.93
8–024 Section 5(2) prevents the PCA from investigating any action in respect
of which the person aggrieved has or had a right of appeal, reference,
or review to, or before, a tribunal constituted by, or under, any
enactment or by prerogative, and any action in respect of which the
person aggrieved has or had a remedy by way of proceedings in any
court of law. This prohibition is subject to an exception where the
PCA is satisfied that it would not be reasonable to expect the claimant
to resort to such a remedy.95 Section 5(2) raises issues of general
interest as to the PCA’s role, which will be considered in the next
section. For the present, it is sufficient to say that there has, despite
s.5(2), been overlap between the courts’ jurisdiction and that of the
PCA. This is particularly so as the courts have expanded the ambit of
judicial review.
However, in Rapp the court emphasised the difference between
judicial review and the remit of the PCA.96 It held that
maladministration was different from unlawfulness, with the
consequence that the PCA was not constrained by the legal principles
that would apply if he had been determining whether that conduct was
unlawful; there might be maladministration without unlawfulness, and
vice versa; it was for the PCA to decide on the criteria for finding
maladministration, and the court would not interfere unless the
approach was unreasonable. The court would, however, interfere if the
PCA failed to apply the standard that he said he was applying.
8–025 The second type of exclusion is contained in s.5(3). This prevents the
PCA from investigating any action or matter described in Sch.3 to the
Act. This Schedule covers a wide range of matters, including:
The two areas where there has been most pressure for reform have
been the exemptions for contractual/commercial matters and
personnel. The existence of other machinery for scrutiny of these
areas, and the idea that the PCA is concerned with the relationship of
the government and the governed and not with the government as
employer or trader, are the main arguments against reform. Neither of
these reasons is convincing.97
8–027 Section 6(1) spells out who can complain. In essence, it provides that
complaints can be made by any individual or body of persons, whether
incorporated or unincorporated. Complaints cannot, however, be made
by local authorities, nationalised industries, or other bodies appointed
by a minister or a government department. These exclusions are
designed to emphasise the PCA as someone who arbitrates between
the government and the governed, but who does not hear complaints
by one department against another. The complaint must be made by
the person aggrieved, or a personal representative. It must be
submitted to an MP within 12 months from the date on which the
person aggrieved first had notice of the matters alleged in the
complaint, but the PCA has discretion to allow a claim to proceed
outside that time limit.99 The complainant must either be resident in
the UK, or the complaint must relate to action taken while he or she
was present in the UK.100
ii. MP filter
iii. Investigation
8–029 The PCA has considerable choice as to whether to investigate,105 the
method of investigation and possesses wide powers to obtain evidence.
There is in effect a three-stage procedure, which is divided into
screening, investigation and report.106
Screening serves principally to remove those cases where the PCA
lacks jurisdiction. Where the PCA proposes to investigate she must
afford the principal officer of the department or authority concerned,
and any other person alleged to have taken or authorised the action
complained of, an opportunity to comment on the allegations.
Investigations are conducted in private, but the PCA has a broad
discretion as to the type of information required, the persons who are
questioned, and whether any person may be represented by counsel,
solicitor or otherwise in the investigation.107 Provision is made for
payment of expenses to the complainant, or a person involved in the
investigation.108 An investigation by the PCA does not, however,
invalidate or suspend action taken by an authority.109
The PCA can require the minister, or any other person with
information relevant to the investigation, to furnish it. The PCA has
the same powers as a court with respect to the attendance of witnesses,
including the administration of oaths, and the production of
documents.110 No obligation to maintain secrecy, whether derived
from any enactment or any rule of law, applies to the disclosure of
information for the purposes of an investigation under the Act, nor can
the Crown claim Crown privilege in respect of such documents.111
Information
related to the Cabinet or Cabinet committees cannot, however, be
furnished. A certificate issued by the Secretary of the Cabinet with the
approval of the Prime Minister certifying that any document does so
relate is conclusive of the matter.112
The PCA must furnish a number of reports at various stages of the
investigatory procedure. A report must be sent to the MP who
requested the investigation, stating the result, or the reasons why the
investigation cannot be undertaken.113 Where an investigation is
conducted a report is also sent to the principal officer of the
department concerned.114 If, having made a report finding
maladministration, it appears to the PCA that the injustice will not be
remedied, he may lay before each House of Parliament a special report
on the case.115 An annual general report must be laid before each
House, and the PCA may submit other reports if he thinks fit.116
F. Remedies
8–030 The PCA has no formal power to award a remedy. The investigation
will in general not even have a suspensory effect on the action under
investigation.117 If the recommendations are not complied with a
special report can be submitted to Parliament,118 and there is the
possibility of judicial review to challenge rejection of the PCA’s
findings.119 The PCA’s reports have, however, led to a wide range of
remedies. This is apparent from any of the annual reports.120
The nature of the “remedy” varied. In some instances, it took the
form of an apology. In others it took the form of action to prevent
recurrence of the problem, by, for example, a review of or changes to
procedures, staff training or change in departmental practice. In yet
others it took the form of action to remedy the failure identified, or
reconsideration of the decision. In many instances the recommendation
was for financial compensation for loss, inconvenience or distress.
The PCA has also had an impact on certain more high profile
cases. The Sachsenhausen case121 concerned the distribution of money
provided by the German government to compensate those who had
been victims in the
Sachsenhausen concentration camp. The sum was distributed by the
UK government, but money was withheld from 12 people who
claimed that they fell within the relevant criteria. The PCA found
maladministration. The government gave compensation, even though
the original sum given by the German government had already been
distributed.
Another example of a high profile case is the Barlow Clowes
affair.122 The Barlow Clowes investment business collapsed in 1988
leaving many investors with substantial losses. The business had been
licensed by the Department of Trade and Industry. The PCA found
maladministration by the DTI, and although the government did not
accept these findings it provided ex gratia compensation for up to 90%
of the losses. The PCA will not, however, always be successful in such
high profile cases.
G. Workload
8–032 An overview of the current workload of the PCA can be gleaned from
the Annual Reports. Before the PCA takes a case for investigation it
ensured that the complaint was within its remit; that the body
complained about had not been able to resolve it; that there was
evidence of maladministration leading to injustice that was not
remedied; and that there was a reasonable prospect of a worthwhile
outcome to the investigation. In 2013–2014 the PCA received 27,566
enquiries, and there was a six-fold increase in the number of cases
investigated, which was the result of a considered shift in policy.
Previously, the PCA would only investigate if it was likely that the
complaint would be upheld, but the PCA shifted to a policy of
investigation if there is a case to answer.124 In 2018–2019 the PCA
received 112,262 enquiries, handled 29,841 complaints, and made
5,658 decisions.
8–036 The first is to see the PCA’s main task as the remedying of individual
grievances caused by neglect, bias, or inattention within the
administration. In performing this role, the PCA operates as an adjunct
to Parliament, aiding that body in the protection of the individual. The
MP filter, the absence of the power to award remedies, and the duty to
report to Parliament, all reinforce this perspective.
This picture of the PCA sees the job as primarily concerned with
the avoidance of mistakes. The jurisdictional divide between the courts
and the PCA serves to emphasise this. Each is responsible for ensuring
the avoidance of mistakes within
its sphere of responsibility, and this is so even accepting that there is
some overlap. There is no doubt that correction of individual
grievances is an important aspect of the PCA’s work.133
8–037 A second way in which the PCA could be viewed preserves the
mistake avoidance approach, but seeks to expand the existing
jurisdiction. There are suggestions that citizens should have direct
access to the PCA, and that the discretion to take cases that are within
the jurisdiction of the ordinary courts should be generously exercised.
There are also suggestions that the PCA should have remedial power,
directly or indirectly. The PCA would be able to give remedies, or
apply to the court for the grant of relief. The image of the PCA as a
small claims administrative court emerges.
The attractions of this second approach are obvious, but it is
problematic. The suggestion that the PCA should be a form of small
claims court would involve a significant re-orientation of the PCA’s
original role. It would transform the PCA into a judicial figure with a
bureaucratic hierarchy. Benefits of the present system, such as
informality of procedure and negotiated settlement, would be lost or
placed in jeopardy. There would be a tendency for the process to
become adversarial. Procedures would become more rigid. These
comments apply with equal force to suggestions that the PCA should
have the power to award a remedy, since this is bound to generate
demands for more formal hearings before being condemned, the right
to representation, and other safeguards associated with judicial
proceedings.134
The suggestion that the PCA should liberally exercise the
discretion to hear complaints that are within the courts’ purview135
also has important ramifications. There is bound to be some overlap
between the PCA and the courts. The nature of administrative law
precludes rigid statements that a matter is or is not within the purview
of the courts. The reason for caution is the danger of there being two
inconsistent views on the same topic, or the application of the same
view in an inconsistent manner.
8–038 There is a link between this point and the possibility of the PCA
applying to a court for the award of a remedy. If the PCA had this
power and also liberally interpreted the discretion to take cases that
could come before the court, we would be faced with the following
conundrum. Let us assume that in some cases the PCA might reach a
result inconsistent either with the judicial principle applied in an area
or, while consistent with the principle, applied it in a way in which a
court would not. The PCA approaches the court claiming
maladministration. Either the court accepts the claim and grants the
remedy, in which case the dual system of jurisprudence would be a
reality, or the court would look to the
substance of the claim and reassess whether maladministration had
taken place. If the court re-examined the matter and found that the
action should not be deemed maladministration because, for example,
estoppel should not bind the Crown, then the dual system of
jurisprudence would be avoided, but a cumbersome and partial form of
review would have taken its place.
It might be argued that these fears are misconceived because the
courts and the PCA are doing different things. The courts are
concerned with the limits of jurisdiction and the principles on which
discretion should be exercised, while the PCA focuses on principles of
good administration. There is some force in this view,136 but it should
not be pressed too far. Whether, for example, a representation should
bind is the substantive question. To imagine that there is no conflict if
the conclusions are reached under different labels called ultra vires or
good administration is short-sighted. We are back once again with a
dual system of jurisprudence, or a dual set of values being applied to
the same problem.
8–039 If this second view of the PCA is felt to be problematic, the office
could still be expanded in a third direction. Proponents of this view
accept the mistake avoidance role of the PCA, outlined as the first
view, but advocate expansion of the jurisdiction in a different
direction. This is to ask the PCA to draw attention to lessons that
should be learned from individual cases in order to improve
administrative practice generally.137 This would not mean neglect of
individual cases. It would be an additional task. The investigation of
individual cases would be, as Harlow says,138 a catalyst for
discovering more general administrative deficiencies. This could be
particularly helpful given that MPs do not at present seem to pay
undue regard to the PCA’s role in addressing individual grievances.139
It is clear that the PCA already fulfils this general function to some
degree, as a glance at the annual reports confirms. Problems in
individual cases lead to the discovery of a more general concern, and
result in recommendations for changing the administrative practice
that gave rise to the problem.140 It has, moreover, been accepted that
reports of good administrative practice should be circulated to
departments, and that departments should provide a response to a
finding of maladministration, indicating the steps taken to rectify the
situation.141
The publication in 2007 of the Principles of Good Administration
and the Principles for Remedy fit well with this vision of the PCA.
They are designed, as we have seen, to provide general guidance to
individual departments and bodies concerning good administrative
practice, with the hope that adherence to these precepts will reduce the
incidence of administrative deficiency and individual error. The PCA
has emphasised the importance of learning from individual complaints
through action plans to prevent the same problem recurring.142
The breadth of any formal PCA report will nonetheless be limited
by the nature of the complaint made.143 Governments have, moreover,
not accepted that the PCA should be able to carry out administrative
audits, and have rejected such suggestions made by the Select
Committee.144 The PCA has pressed for competence to undertake
own-initiative reports,145 but to no avail thus far. The rationale for the
government’s attitude was in part that other bodies already undertake
this type of task. The principal reason for rejecting this suggestion was
however that the PCA’s independence when conducting individual
investigations could be compromised where the complaint related to a
department which the PCA had approved in such an audit.146 This
reasoning is questionable. The fact that the PCA had, for example,
given a clean bill of health to the general procedures applied by a
particular department would not necessarily imply that the department
was incapable of maladministration in a specific case. There is nothing
inconsistent between sound standard operating procedures and
mistakes in the application of such procedures in a particular instance.
K. Health
8–040 The National Health Service Reorganisation Act 1973 created two
Health Service Commissioners, one for England and the other for
Wales. The PCA holds the office for England, as well as the office
created by the 1967 Act. Scotland was provided with a Commissioner
by the National Health Service (Scotland) Act 1972. The Health
Service Commissioner (HSC) can investigate certain health
authorities147 and persons therein.148 The matters that can be
investigated are an alleged failure in a service provided by the
authority, an alleged failure by an authority to provide a service that it
was meant to provide, and maladministration connected with any other
action taken by or on behalf of an authority. The
complainant must allege that injustice or hardship has been
suffered.149 Maladministration in this context connotes avoidable
delay, not following proper procedures, rudeness or discourtesy, not
explaining decisions, or not answering complaints fully or properly.
The Commissioner can also investigate complaints about the exercise
of clinical judgment, although cannot investigate the merits of
decisions taken without maladministration. The matters excluded from
the jurisdiction of the HSC are similar to those excluded from the
general jurisdiction of the PCA.
A difference between the PCA’s jurisdiction under the 1967 Act
and the legislation relating to health is that direct access is allowed
under the latter legislation. The reason is that MPs do not occupy the
same constitutional position with respect to the health service as they
do in connection with ordinary departments. A condition precedent to
direct access is, however, that the complainant first brings the matter
to the notice of the health authority or relevant practitioner, which
must be allowed a reasonable opportunity to respond to the complaint.
6. LOCAL COMMISSIONERS
A. Scope of Authority
8–041 The 1967 Act did not include complaints against local authorities. This
was remedied by the Local Government Act 1974.150 Two
Commissions for local administration were established, one for
England and one for Wales.151 The work is done by local
commissioners, who are appointed by the Crown. There are now three
commissioners for England, who deal with complaints from different
parts of the country. The local commissioners can investigate
complaints against local authorities and this includes committees,
members and officers.152 Access to the local commissioner was
originally indirect, the complaint being referred initially to a member
of the local authority. Since 1988 individuals have been given a right
of direct access to the local commissioner,153 but a complaint can be
referred to the local commissioner by a member of a local authority
with the consent of the complainant.154
The complainant must allege that injustice has been suffered as a
consequence of maladministration and allow the local authority a
reasonable opportunity to investigate and reply to the complaint.155
Exclusions exist similar to those governing the jurisdiction of the
PCA. Thus, cases where there is a remedy before
a court or tribunal are excluded, as are cases subject to an appeal to a
minister.156 There is a discretionary exception to this prohibition,
which is the same as that in the 1967 Act.157 There are important
exclusions for cases where the complaint affects all or most of the
inhabitants of the authority’s area,158 and for certain other types of
case.159
The procedure for investigation is similar in certain respects to that
of the PCA.160 Copies of the report must be sent to the complainant,
the local authority and the member who originally referred it. The
report must be made available for public inspection.161 The procedural
powers of the local commissioners were reinforced in 1989.162 When
an adverse report has been made, the local authority is under a duty to
respond to it. If no such action is forthcoming in three months, or the
commissioner is not satisfied with the proposed course of action, the
local commissioner must make a further report setting out the facts and
making recommendations about remedying the injustice. If the local
authority still proves recalcitrant, or has not taken the necessary action,
then it can be forced to issue a statement in the press containing the
local commissioner’s proposals and any reasons why it has not taken
action.
1 P. Birkinshaw, Freedom of Information, The Law, the Practice and the Ideal,
(2010).
3 Data Protection Act 1984; R. Austin, “The Data Protection Act 1984: The
19 BBC v Sugar [2009] 1 W.L.R. 430 HL; University and Colleges Admissions
Service v Information Commissioner [2014] UKUT 557 (AAC).
20 FOIA 2000 s.7.
27 See https://www.gov.uk/information-rights-appeal-against-the-
67 The Whyatt Report, The Citizen and the Administration: the Redress of
Grievances (1961).
68 F. Stacey, The British Ombudsman (Oxford: Clarendon, 1971); R. Gregory
79 Courts and Legal Services Act 1990; R. James and R. Seneviratne, “The Legal
(1998).
88 See also R. v Parliamentary Commissioner for Administration, Ex p. Balchin
[1997] C.O.D. 146 QBD, where Sedley J held that maladministration included
bias, neglect, inattention, delay, incompetence, ineptitude, perversity, turpitude
and arbitrariness.
89 Parliamentary and Health Service Ombudsman, Principles of Good
(1998).
94 R. (Bradley) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2008] EWCA Civ
36; R. (Evans) v Attorney General [2015] UKSC 21; [2015] 2 W.L.R. 813 SC.
Compare R. (Equitable Members Action Group) v HM Treasury [2009] EWHC
2495 (Admin).
95 D. Foulkes, “Discretionary Provisions of the Parliamentary Commissioner
109 Parliamentary Commissioner Act 1967 s.7(4). Except in so far as the person
aggrieved has been removed from the UK, he must, if the PCA so directs, be
brought back to the UK, subject to such conditions as the secretary of state may
direct, for the purposes of the investigation.
110 Parliamentary Commissioner Act 1967 s.8(1) and (2).
111 Parliamentary Commissioner Act 1967 s.8(3). There are, however, provisions
to prevent the PCA disclosing information to any person where it would be
contrary to interests of the state. This does not prevent the PCA from seeking
such documents, s.11(3).
112 Parliamentary Commissioner Act 1967 s.8(4).
114 Parliamentary Commissioner Act 1967 s.10(2), and to any other person who
is alleged to have taken or authorised the action complained of.
115 Parliamentary Commissioner Act 1967 s.10(3).
127 P. Giddings and R. Gregory, “Auditing the Auditors: The Select Committee
Review of the Powers, Work and Jurisdiction of the Ombudsman 1993” [1994]
P.L. 207; P. Giddings, R. Gregory and V. Moore, “Auditing the Auditors:
Responses to the Committee’s Review of the United Kingdom Ombudsman
System 1993” [1995] P.L. 45.
128 Select Committee on Public Administration, Fourth Report: Parliament and
1344 (Admin).
137 C. Harlow, “Ombudsmen in Search of a Role” (1978) 41 M.L.R. 446.
144 Select Committee, Review of Access and Jurisdiction (HC Paper No.615;
Session 1977−78). The Select Committee argued that the PCA should have some
capacity to undertake audits where investigation of individual complaints
revealed a more general problem. This was not accepted by the government,
Observations by the Government on Review of Access and Jurisdiction,
Cmnd.7449 (Session 1977−78); Select Committee, First Report (HC Paper
No.33; Session 1993−94); Select Committee, Fifth Report (HC Paper No.619;
Session 1993−94).
145 Parliamentary and Health Service Ombudsman, The Ombudsman’s Casework
Report 2019, p.11.
146 Giddings, Gregory and Moore, “Auditing the Auditors: Responses to the
Committee’s Review of the United Kingdom Ombudsman System 1993” [1995]
P.L. 45, 48.
147 Health Service Commissioners Act 1993 s.2.
162 Local Government and Housing Act 1989 s.26, amending s.31 of the Local
(2002), p.1.
166 Local Government Ombudsman, Guidance on Running a Complaints System.
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
9–001 i. Tribunals and inquiries have been part of our administrative
landscape for some considerable time.1 They constitute an
important part of the machinery for the discharge of public
functions in the modern state.
ii. The operation of tribunals has been affected by legislation. The
Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1958 made significant changes in the
legal rules governing both tribunals and inquiries.
iii. There was a more radical overhaul of tribunals in the Tribunals,
Courts and Enforcement Act 2007, which produced far-reaching
changes in the organisation of tribunals and the way in which
they function.
iv. Inquiries are central to certain areas of administration, most
notably planning. They are also used more generally to
investigate matters of public concern, which is now governed by
the Inquiries Act 2005.
v. The detailed rules for the operation of inquiries in areas such as
planning also embody and reflect different ideologies concerning
the purposes served by legal regulation in this area, as will be
apparent from the subsequent discussion.
B. Recommendations
9–005 The Franks Committee proceeded on the assumption that tribunals
should be regarded as part of the machinery of adjudication, and not as
part of the machinery of the administration,12 and that tribunal
procedure should be open, fair and impartial13:
“In the field of tribunals openness appears to us to require the publicity of proceedings and
knowledge of the essential reasoning underlying the decisions; fairness to require the
adoption of a clear procedure which enables parties to know their rights, to present their case
fully and
to know the case which they have to meet; and impartiality to require the freedom of
tribunals from the influence, real or apparent, of departments concerned with the subject
matter of their decisions.”
5. TRIBUNALS: STRUCTURE
9–010 The Leggatt Report was the most important document published about
tribunals. It led to a government White Paper,23 and many Leggatt
recommendations were incorporated in the Tribunals, Courts and
Enforcement Act 2007 (TCE Act).24
9. TRIBUNALS: OVERSIGHT
9–035 The TCE Act s.44 established the Administrative Justice and Tribunals
Council (AJTC), to oversee the system of tribunals and inquiries, and
s.45 abolished the Council on Tribunals, which previously performed
the oversight role. However, as will be seen below the AJTC was
abolished in 2013.
A. The Recommendations
9–041 Prior to 1957 there was increasing public disquiet not just with
tribunals, but also with inquiries. Issues concerning cost and delay
were overlaid by frustration at the secrecy of the procedure. The report
of the inspector who held the inquiry would normally not be made
public. Witnesses were divided as to the role of inquiries. One group
saw inquiries as part of the process of administration, as an extension
of departmental decision-making in specific areas, which should be
relatively free from controls other than those imposed by Parliament.
A different view was expressed by those who saw the inquiry as akin
to a judicial process, in which the inspector who undertook the hearing
was akin to a judge.144 The Franks Committee rejected both
positions145:
“Our general conclusion is that those procedures cannot be classified as purely administrative
or purely judicial. They are not purely administrative because of the provision for a special
procedure preliminary to the decision—a feature not to be found in the ordinary course of
administration—and because this procedure, as we have shown, involves the testing of an
issue, often partly in public. They are not on the other hand purely judicial, because the final
decision cannot be reached by the application of rules and must allow the exercise of wide
discretion in the balancing of public and private interest. Neither view at its extreme is
tenable, nor should either be emphasized at the expense of the other.”
B. Implementation
9–043 The Franks Committee Report was warmly received. Some proposals
were taken up rapidly by the government and the Tribunal and
Inquiries Bill duly appeared before Parliament. What, however,
became apparent at the Committee stage was that the Bill said very
little about inquiries. It was mainly concerned with tribunals. As a
result of pressure in the House of Lords, the Government introduced
s.1(1)(c) of the Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1958. This provided that
the Council on Tribunals was to consider and report on such matters as
might be referred to it, or as the Council itself should determine to be
of special importance, with respect to administrative procedure
involving an inquiry. The Council’s powers with respect to inquiries
were therefore different to those concerning tribunals. It had no power
to keep such inquiries under review, as it did with tribunals, but it did
have power to intervene on its own initiative in more specific terms
than in connection with tribunals. The Council’s powers were,
however, advisory rather than executive.
Many Franks Committee recommendations were, however,
implemented by administrative practice and not by statute, but two
proposals were rejected by the government: those related to placing the
inspectorate under the Lord Chancellor,
and the requirement that the minister should make available a
statement of policy prior to the inquiry. The procedure that now
applies is a mixture of law and administrative practice. The precise
details differ in different areas, but the general principles are the same.
It is to these that we must now turn.
3 See Ch.2.
25 C.J.Q. 458.
11 Report of the Committee on Administrative Tribunals and Enquiries (1957),
Cmnd.218 (the “Franks Report”).
12 The Franks Report, para.40.
15 Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1992 ss.1−2. There is provision for a Scottish
Committee of the Council.
16 Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1992 s.8.
28 They can sit anywhere in the UK, TCE Act 2007 s.26.
37 Functions that are within the sphere of devolved administrations are, subject
to certain exceptions, not transferred, TCE Act s.30(5)−(8). However, the TCE
Act ss.32−34, provides for the possibility of appeal to the Upper Tribunal in
relation to Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, when the relevant function has
not been transferred to the First-tier Tribunal.
38 TCE Act s.31.
39 R. (S (a child)) v Brent LBC [2002] EWCA Civ 693; [2002] A.C.D. 90.
537, 556.
49 Thomas and Tomlinson, “A Different Tale of Judicial Power” [2019] P.L.
537, 557.
50 TCE Act 2007 s.11(5).
54 Terzaghi v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2019] EWCA Civ
2017.
55 UT (Sri Lanka) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2019] EWCA
Civ 1095.
56 The Lord Chancellor’s power in this respect is limited by TCE Act 2007
s.11(6).
57 See, e.g. Worcestershire CC v JJ [2014] UKUT 406 (AAC); MM (Sudan) v
Wales, the Court of Session for Scotland or the Court of Appeal for Northern
Ireland.
59 TCE Act 2007 s.13(8).
60 TCE Act 2007 s.13(6). The exercise of the power under the subsection is
subject to the affirmative resolution procedure, s.49; Appeals from the Upper
Tribunal to the Court of Appeal Order 2008 (SI 2834/2008).
61 JD (Congo) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2012] EWCA Civ
327.
62 TCE Act 2007 s.13(7).
64 Sandhu v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2010] EWCA Civ 962.
65 TCE Act 2007 s.14(2)(b)(i), or, where the decision of the Upper Tribunal was
on an appeal or reference from another tribunal or some other person, to the
Upper Tribunal or that other tribunal or person, with directions for its
reconsideration.
66 TCE Act 2007 s.14(5).
Instrumatic Ltd v Supabrase Ltd [1969] 1 W.L.R. 519 CA (Civ Div); British
Railways Board v Customs and Excise Commissioners [1977] 1 W.L.R. 588 CA
(Civ Div); Farmer [1915] A.C. 922; ACT Construction [1981] 1 W.L.R. 49.
72 Edwards v Bairstow [1956] A.C. 14 HL at 33−36.
W.L.R. 254 QBD; Global Plant Ltd v Secretary of State for Social Services
[1972] 1 Q.B. 139 QBD; Central Electricity Generating Board v Clywd CC
[1976] 1 W.L.R. 151 Ch D at 160; O’Kelly v Trusthouse Forte Plc [1984] Q.B.
90 CA (Civ Div); Shaw (Inspector of Taxes) v Vicky Construction Ltd [2002]
S.T.C. 1544 Ch D; New Fashions (London) Ltd v Revenue and Customs
Commissioners [2006] S.T.C. 175 Ch D; Salaried Persons Postal Loans Ltd v
Revenue and Customs Commissioners [2006] S.T.C. 1315 Ch D; Wood v Holden
(Inspector of Taxes) [2006] 1 W.L.R. 1393 CA (Civ Div); Zurich Insurance Co v
Revenue and Customs Commissioners [2007] EWCA Civ 218; Boots Co Plc v
Revenue and Customs Commissioners [2009] EWCA Civ 1396; Revenue and
Customs Commissioners v Kearney [2010] EWCA Civ 288; Thomson v Revenue
and Customs Commissioners [2014] UKUT 360 (TCC); Why Pay More For
Cars Ltd v Revenue and Customs Commissioners [2015] UKUT 468 (TCC);
Aria Technology Ltd v Revenue and Customs Commissioners [2018] UKUT 363
(TCC); Anglian Water Services Ltd v Revenue and Customs Commissioners
[2018] UKUT 431 (TCC).
76 Ransom v Higgs [1974] 1 W.L.R. 1594 HL at 1610−1611.
83 Husson v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2020] EWCA Civ 329.
88 He or she must be either a judge of the High Court or the Court of Appeal in
England and Wales or Northern Ireland, or a judge of the Court of Session, or
such other persons as may be agreed from time to time between the Lord Chief
Justice, the Lord President, or the Lord Chief Justice of Northern Ireland, as the
case may be, and the Senior President of Tribunals.
89 Practice Direction (Upper Tribunal: Judicial Review Jurisdiction) [2009] 1
W.L.R. 327; KF v Birmingham and Solihull Mental Health NHS Foundation
Trust [2010] UKUT 185 (AAC).
90 Practice Direction (Upper Tribunal: Judicial Review Jurisdiction) [2012] 1
W.L.R. 16.
91 TCE Act 2007 s.18(3) and (9).
92 TCE Act 2007 s.19, inserting a new s.31(A) into the Senior Courts Act 1981.
102 See, e.g. Phillips v Upper Tribunal (Tax and Chancery Chamber) [2012]
EWHC 2934 (Admin); A v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2013]
EWHC 1272 (Admin).
103 See Ch.16.
L.R. 1281; L. Fuller, “The Forms and Limits of Adjudication” (1978) 92 Harv.
L.R. 353, 382−384.
114 For the limits of a tribunal’s obligation to assist an unrepresented applicant
see, Chilton Saga Holidays Plc [1986] 1 All E.R. 841; R. v Criminal Injuries
Compensation Board, Ex p. Pearce [1994] C.O.D. 235; R. v Criminal Injuries
Compensation Board, Ex p. Milton [1996] C.O.D. 264.
115 G. Ganz, Administrative Procedures (London: Sweet & Maxwell, 1974),
pp.31−32; Wraith and Hutchesson, Administrative Tribunals (1973),
pp.146−147.
116 Ganz, Administrative Procedures (1974), p.35.
117 S. Green and L. Sossin, “Administrative Justice and Innovation: Beyond the
Adversarial/Inquisitorial Dichotomy”, in S. Begley and L. Jacobs (eds), The
Nature of Inquisitional Processes in Administrative Regimes: Global
Perspectives (University of Toronto Press, 2011).
118 Genn, “Tribunals and Informal Justice” (1993) M.L.R. 393.
119 Re Poyser and Mills’ Arbitration [1964] 2 Q.B. 467 QBD; Westminster City
Council v Great Portland Estates [1985] A.C. 661 HL.
120 South Buckinghamshire DC v Porter (No.2) [2004] 1 W.L.R. 1953 HL at
[36].
121 Save Britain’s Heritage v Secretary of State for the Environment [1991] 1
W.L.R. 153 HL; South Bucks DC v Porter (No.2) [2004] 1 W.L.R. 1953 HL;
Dover DC v Campaign to Protect Rural England [2017] UKSC 79 at [45].
122 English v Emery Reimbold & Strick Ltd [2002] 1 W.L.R. 2409; Adami v
Ethical Standards Officer of the Standards Board for England [2005] EWCA
Civ 1754.
123 Mountview Court Properties Ltd v Devlin (1970) 21 P. & C.R. 689 QBD;
126 D. Foulkes, “The Council on Tribunals: Visits, Policy and Practice” [1994]
P.L. 564.
127 The Annual Reports 1999/2000 and 2000/2001 contain representative
examples of the work of the Council.
128 Council on Tribunals, Model Rules of Procedure for Tribunals. The Model
Rules of Procedure were revised in 1999 to take account of the Human Rights
Act 1998; Brown, “Tribunal Adjudication in Britain: Model Rules of Procedure”
(1993) Special Number ERPL 287.
129 Council on Tribunals, Tribunals, Their Organisation and Independence
(1997) Cm.3744.
130 TCE Act 2007 Sch.7 para.13(1)−(2).
Justice (2010).
134 Public Bodies Act 2011; Public Bodies (Abolition of Administrative Justice
140 Administrative Justice and Tribunals: Final Report of Progress against the
Strategic Work Programme 2013–2016, Cm 9319, p.3.
141 See https://ajc-justice.co.uk/council/ [accessed 28 January 2021].
146 These are summarised at paras 96−98 of the Franks Committee Report.
148 See, e.g. Town and Country Planning (Inquiries Procedure) (England) Rules
150 Edwards v Environment Agency [2006] EWCA Civ 877; [2007] Env. L.R. 9.
151 Miller (TA) Ltd v Minister of Housing and Local Government [1968] 1
153 Bushell [1981] A.C. 75 at 97. See also, R. (Great Yarmouth Port Co Ltd) v
Marine Management Organisation [2014] EWHC 833 (Admin).
154 Bushell [1981] A.C. 75 at 97−98, 108−109, 121−123; R. v Secretary of State
160 See, e.g. Town and Country Planning Appeals (Determination by Inspectors)
(Inquiries Procedure) (England) Rules 2000 (SI 1625/2000) r.19.
161 Buxton v Minister of Housing and Local Government [1961] 1 Q.B. 278
QBD.
162 See, e.g. SI 1626/2000 r.13.
163 Luke (Lord) v Minister of Housing and Local Government [1968] 1 Q.B. 172
CA (Civ Div); Murphy and Sons Ltd v Secretary of State for the Environment
[1973] 1 W.L.R. 560 QBD; Darlassis v Minister of Education (1954) 52 L.G.R.
304.
164 Bushell [1981] A.C. 75 at 102.
166 Bushell [1981] A.C. 75 at 110 and 123−124. See also, Steele v Minister of
Housing and Local Government (1956) 6 P. & C.R. 386 CA at 392. Compare,
however, Edwards [2007] Env. L.R. 9.
167 Iveagh (Earl) v Minister of Housing and Local Government [1964] 1 Q.B.
395 CA; Givaudan & Co Ltd v Minister of Housing and Local Government
[1967] 1 W.L.R. 250 QBD; French Kier Developments Ltd v Secretary of State
for the Environment [1977] 1 All E.R. 296 QBD; Barnham v Secretary of State
for the Environment (1986) 52 P. & C.R. 10; Reading BC v Secretary of State for
the Environment (1986) 52 P. & C.R. 385.
168 The Town and Country Planning (Inquiries Procedure) (England) Rules 2000
(SI 1624/2000), govern certain planning applications and appeals decided by the
Secretary of State; The Town and Country Planning Appeals (Determination by
Inspectors) (Inquiries Procedure) (England) Rules 2000 (SI 1625/2000), govern
certain appeals decided by an inspector appointed by the Secretary of State
where the inspector makes the decision in the name of the minister; Town and
Country Planning (Hearings Procedure) (England) Rules 2000 (SI 1626/2000).
Most appeals are decided by an inspector, Sir D. Heap, An Outline of Planning
Law, 11th edn (London: Sweet & Maxwell, 1996), Ch.13; V. Moore, A Practical
Approach to Planning Law, 13th edn (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014);
R. Duxbury, Telling and Duxbury’s Planning Law and Procedure, 16th edn
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018).
169 See https://www.planningportal.co.uk [accessed 28 January 2021].
172 Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1992 s.16(1)(b) and 16(2) makes the designated
inquiries subject to the Act. The provisions concerning the giving of reasons do
not, however, apply unless the designating order specifically so directs, s.10(4).
173 See, e.g. SI 451/1967; SI 1379/1975; SI 1287/1983.
174 Town and Country Planning Act 1990 ss.78, 319A and Sch.6; Town and
179 House of Commons, Inquiry into the Export of Defence Equipment and
Dual-Use Goods to Iraq and Related Prosecutions, HC Paper No.115 (Session
1995−96).
180 Wraith and Lamb, Public Inquiries as an Instrument of Government (1971),
pp.202−212; Beer, Public Inquiries (2011), paras 1.19−1.36.
181 Sir A. Clarke QC, Report of the Inquiry (1954), Cmd.9176.
186 The Tribunal of Inquiry could not itself punish for contempt, but it did certify
198 Inquiries Act 2005 s.19; Re Officer L (2007) 1 W.L.R. 2135; R. (E) v
Chairman of the Inquiry into the Death of Azelle Rodney Inquiry [2012] EWHC
563 (Admin); R. (Associated Newspapers Ltd) v Leveson [2012] EWHC 57
(Admin); Bilfinger Construction v Edinburgh Tram Inquiry [2018] S.L.T. 925.
199 Wraith and Lamb, Public Inquiries as an Instrument of Government (1971),
208 McAuslan, The Ideologies of Planning Law (1980), Chs 1−2. I am indebted
to McAuslan’s study for the material which appears in this example. See also, C.
Harlow and R. Rawlings, Law and Administration (London: Weidenfeld and
Nicolson, 1984), Chs 14 and 15.
209 Planning and Compulsory Purchase Act 2004; Planning Act 2008.
210 Town and Country Planning Act 1990 s.11 applied to metropolitan areas,
s.30 to non-metropolitan areas.
211 Town and Country Planning Act 1990 ss.12 and 31.
213 Town and Country Planning Act 1990 ss.13, 20, 33, 35 and 39−42.
219 McAuslan, The Ideologies of Planning Law (1980), pp.45−55; Wraith and
222 Report of the Council on Tribunals on the position of third parties at planning
appeal inquiries (1962), Cmnd.1787.
223 Enterprise zones, Local Government, Planning and Land Act 1980 s.179, and
Town and Country Planning Act 1990 ss.88−90; simplified planning zones,
Town and Country Planning Act 1990 ss.82−87.
224 M. Loughlin, Local Government in the Modern State (London: Sweet &
Maxwell, 1986), p.157.
225 M. Grant and P. Healey, “The Rise and Fall of Planning”, in M. Loughlin, M.
Sizewell B Inquiry” [1985] P.L. 475; and “The Layfield Report on the Sizewell
B Inquiry” [1987] P.L. 162, for an interesting account of the problems presented
by the large public inquiry.
CHAPTER 10
AUTOMATED DECISION-MAKING
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
10–001 i. The discussion thus far has focused on the principal domestic
institutions relevant for administrative law. The institutions
discussed vary, but there is an implicit commonality in the
discussion, which is that the decision, whatsoever it might be, has
been made by an individual. There are, however, increasing
instances where the decision, or key data that informs the
decision, are made by an automated system. The use of such
systems can be positive, but they also raise attendant problems.1
ii. This poses novel issues for administrative law, which are
discussed in this chapter.2 These are endemic, in the sense that all
legal orders are beginning
to grapple with them. The approaches remain of interest, even if,
as in the case of EU initiatives, they no longer bind the UK post-
Brexit.3
iii. The analysis begins with consideration of artificial intelligence
(AI) and regulation. The basic precepts are explicated, as is the
relationship between inputs, outputs and values that informs
decisions made by, or based on, AI systems.
iv. This is followed by AI and political regulation. There is
examination of the UK government strategy in relation to AI,
including the principal institutions, the national data strategy and
the government guidelines concerning use of AI by government
departments and related bodies.
v. The remainder of the chapter considers AI and legal regulation.
There is analysis of the principal features of data protection
legislation as it applies to automated decision-making, and
consideration of how the Equality Act 2010 and the Human
Rights Act 1998 apply to issues concerning AI. This is followed
by discussion of the difficulties that AI systems pose for the
normal precepts of judicial review. The chapter concludes by
addressing new modes of legal regulation that pertain to this area.
2. AI AND REGULATION
A. Basic Precepts
10–002 The previous chapters have described and analysed the principal UK
administrative institutions. They differ in many respects, but they
nonetheless have commonalities, the most foundational of which is
that the decisions are made by human beings. There is an individual, or
institution, that made the contested rule or decision. The subject-matter
of this chapter attests to an important change in this regard, since the
reality is that in many instances it is not possible to trace a decision
back to a discrete individual. The operative decision may be made by
an algorithm, or some other form of automated decision-making.
Humans are still involved in such decisional processes, as will be seen
below. There is, nonetheless, a significant difference in the nature of
such administration from that which existed hitherto, and it poses, as
will be seen, novel problems for administrative law.
It is important to be clear at the outset about terminology, since AI
can be defined in many ways. This chapter will follow the broad
meaning accorded to the term by the Information Commissioner’s
Office (ICO) and the Alan Turing Institute (ATI), which define it as an
umbrella term for a “range of algorithm-based technologies that solve
complex tasks by carrying out functions that previously required
human thinking”.4 In similar vein, Yeung defines algorithms as
“encoded procedures for solving a problem by transforming input data
into a desired output”.5 However, she also notes that social scientists
typically use the term algorithm as an adjective to describe the
“sociotechnical assemblage that includes not just algorithms but also
the computational networks in which they function”,6 including the
people who design and operate them, the data (and users) on which
they act, and the institutions that provide these services. Algorithmic
regulation refers to regulatory systems that use algorithmic decision-
making.
The definition in a draft EU Regulation is similar, although there is
more emphasis on the relative autonomy of the system. The
Regulation, if enacted, will not bind the UK in a post-Brexit world.
The definition is, nonetheless, pertinent to the present inquiry. Article
4 provides that7:
“(a) ‘artificial intelligence’ means a system that is either software-based or embedded in
hardware devices, and that displays intelligent behaviour by, inter alia, collecting,
processing, analysing, and interpreting its environment, and by taking action, with some
degree of autonomy, to achieve specific goals.
(b) ‘autonomy’ means an AI-system that operates by interpreting certain input and using a
set of pre-determined instructions, without being limited to such instructions, despite
the system’s behaviour being constrained by and targeted at fulfilling the goal it was
given and other relevant design choices made by its developer.”
10–003 AI models thus effectively map a set of inputs into a set of outputs, a
task facilitated very considerably by the increase in computing power.
The correlations and connections that AI models identify to determine
outputs have become increasingly complex and more difficult for
humans to understand, which is part of the problem. Decisions made
using AI are either fully automated, or there can be a human involved.
AI systems entail the creation of an algorithm that uses data to “model
some aspect of the world, and then applies this model to new data in
order to make predictions about it”.8 Increasingly, machine learning
(ML) models have emerged as the dominant AI technology. The
principal ML approaches are supervised, unsupervised, and
reinforcement learning:
“Supervised learning models are trained on a dataset which contains labelled data. ‘Learning’
occurs in these models when numerous examples are used to train an algorithm to map input
variables (often called features) onto desired outputs (also called target variables or labels).
On the basis of these examples, the ML model is able to identify patterns that link inputs to
outputs. ML models are then able to reproduce these patterns by employing the rules honed
during training to transform new inputs received into classifications or predictions.
Unsupervised learning models are trained on a dataset without explicit instructions or
labelled data. These models identify patterns and structures by measuring the densities or
similarities of data points in the dataset. Such algorithmic models can be used to: cluster data
(grouping similar data together); detect anomalies (flagging inputs that are outliers compared
to the rest of the dataset); and associate a data point with other attributes that are typically
seen together.
Reinforcement learning models learn on the basis of their interactions with a virtual or
real environment rather than existing data. Reinforcement learning ‘agents’ search for an
optimal way to complete a task by taking a series of steps that maximise the probability of
achieving that task. Depending on the steps they take, they are rewarded or punished. These
‘agents’ are encouraged to choose their steps to maximise their reward. They ‘learn’ from
past experiences, improve with multiple iterations of trial and error, and may have long-term
strategies to maximise their reward overall rather than looking only at their next step.”9
An AI system may be fully automated when set up, such that the
output/decision may occur without human involvement. An AI system
may, however, involve human consideration before the operative
decision is taken, hence the previous phrase of there being a “human in
the loop”. There should, in both instances, be someone accountable for
an AI system.
A. Introduction
10–005 A high-profile instance of mishap caused by an algorithm in the UK
was the A-level grading fiasco. While the Prime Minister Boris
Johnson blamed the episode on what he termed a “mutant algorithm”,
the reality was more complex. Algorithms are commonly the result, as
we have seen, of human input or design. The problems generated by
the A-level algorithm were as much the result of policy design as
technical flaw. It was, however, as is often the case, easier for
ministers to blame the technology, and indeed Ofqual the agency,
rather than assume individual or collective ministerial responsibility
for what transpired.
There have been other high-profile instances where the
government has been forced to reconsider use of an algorithm. Thus,
the Joint Council for the Welfare of Immigrants began a legal
challenge to an algorithm that it claimed was racist for visa applicants,
which was then suspended before the case was decided. In August
2020, the UK government’s Home Office abandoned a system to
determine the risk represented by visa applicants, after threat of legal
action because the algorithm entrenched racism and bias into the visa
system, with the consequence that the system was prone to fast-
tracking applicants from predominantly white countries, while those
from elsewhere were subject to more onerous review. The Home
Office withdrew the system, albeit without formally acknowledging
that the algorithm was flawed.15
There has, in addition, been continued dispute over the use of
facial recognition technology. Use of the technology is favoured by
some police forces,
on the ground that it facilitates prevention and detection of crime.
There are, nonetheless, concerns as to privacy, and as to the accuracy
of the data thus gathered.16
B. Institutions
10–006 It is important to stand back from specific instances where algorithms
have hit the news in the UK and consider the more general
governmental approach to use of AI. We begin with an outline of the
key institutions.
There is an All-Party Parliamentary Group on Artificial
Intelligence (APPG AI), which is a cross-party group of MPs with a
special interest in AI founded in 2017. It is sponsored by a number of
large companies.17 Its aim is to explore the impact and implications of
AI, as attested to by the latest programme called “Embracing the AI
Revolution”,18 which is framed by the twin desires to seize the
benefits of AI and protect against the potential risks. The APPG has
seven taskforces, which concern: Education; Enterprise Adoption of
AI; Citizen Participation; Data Governance; Sustainability; Health and
Wellbeing; and AI in the World.
The executive branch is represented by various bodies. There is the
Government Digital Service (GDS), which is part of the Cabinet
Office, and takes the lead on digital transformation.19 It provides best
practice guidance, sets and enforces standards for digital services,
builds and supports common platforms, helps government choose the
right technology, and supports increased use of emerging technologies
by the public sector.20 There is the Office for Artificial Intelligence
(OAI),21 which is part of the Department of Digital, Culture, Media
and Sport, and the Department for Business, Energy and Industrial
Strategy. The OAI works with industry, academia and the third sector
to coordinate and oversee the implementation of the UK’s AI strategy.
It has published various documents, including guidance about AI in
public procurement and the use of AI in the public sector,22 the latter
of which was published in conjunction with the GDS and the Alan
Turing Institute (ATI). This guidance, which is considered below, is
intended to help civil servants decide whether AI could be useful and
how to implement it ethically, fairly, and safely. There is also the
Centre for Data Ethics
and Innovation, which identifies the measures needed to make sure
that development of AI is safe, ethical and innovative.23
The Information Commissioner’s Office (ICO) is the UK’s data
protection regulator, and hence provides oversight of the use of
personal data. The ICO has issued detailed guidance on how
organisations should implement the requirements of the General Data
Protection Regulation (GDPR) in regard to automated decision-
making and profiling.24
D. Government Guidelines
10–008 The government published detailed guidance on use of AI,27 which it
defines to mean the use of digital technology to create systems capable
of performing tasks commonly thought to require intelligence. This
involves machines using statistics to find patterns in large amounts of
data, and the ability to perform repetitive tasks with data without the
need for constant human guidance. The government guidance focuses
in particular on machine learning, which is, as we have seen, a subset
of AI, whereby digital systems improve their performance on a given
task over time through experience.
The government guidance sees AI as benefiting the public sector in
a number of ways, by: providing more accurate information, forecasts
and predictions leading to better outcomes, such as more accurate
medical diagnoses; producing a positive social impact by using AI to
provide solutions for challenging social problems; simulating complex
systems to experiment with different policy options; improving public
services; and automating manual tasks, which thereby allows staff to
do more interesting work.
The guidance is also mindful of what AI cannot do. Thus, it cannot
be imaginative; perform well without a large quantity of relevant, high
quality data; or infer additional context if the information is not
present in the data. There may, moreover, be simpler solutions that are
more effective and less expensive.
10–009 There are a number of considerations specified as relevant when a
department decides whether to use an AI system. These include: data
quality; fairness, which connotes an AI model that is based on accurate
datasets that are not biased; accountability, which means consideration
of who is responsible for each element of the model’s output and how
the designers and implementers of AI systems will be held
accountable; privacy, in terms of compliance with the GDPR and the
Data Protection Act 2018; explainability and transparency, thereby
enabling affected stakeholders to know how the AI model reached its
decision; and costs, including the cost of building and maintaining the
AI system.
The guidance also emphasises the importance of a
multidisciplinary team, to reduce bias and make sure results are as
accurate as possible when the system is initially established. The team
should include a data architect, who sets the vision for the
organisation’s use of data, through data design; a data scientist to
identify complex problems; a data engineer to develop the delivery of
data products and services into systems and business processes; an
ethicist to provide ethical judgements and assessments on the AI
model’s inputs; and a domain expert who knows the environment
where the AI model will be deployed.
There is similar emphasis on continual assessment of the
performance of the AI system when it has been established. Thus,
departments are told to check that the model shows no signs of bias or
discrimination; that it is performing in line
with ethical considerations; that it is capable of being understood; and
that the use of data complies with data protection laws.
any form of automated processing of personal data evaluating the personal aspects relating to
a natural person, in particular to analyse or predict aspects concerning the data subject’s
performance at work, economic situation, health, personal preferences or interests, reliability
or behaviour, location or movements, where it produces legal effects concerning him or her
or similarly significantly affects him or her.”
10–011 Article 22(1) provides that the data subject has the right not to be
subject to a decision based solely on automated processing, including
profiling, which produces legal effects concerning him or her or
similarly significantly affects him or her. A decision will be solely
automated where the result of the AI system is applied without human
intervention, but this should also be so where an automated decision is
put into effect by a human with little by way of review or evaluation.
Recital 71 states that automated processing should be subject to
suitable safeguards, which should include specific information to the
data subject and the right to obtain human intervention, to express his
or her point of view, to obtain an explanation of the decision reached
after such assessment and to challenge the decision.
Article 22(2) contains three exceptions. Thus, the prohibition does
not apply where: the decision is necessary for the entry into, or
performance of, a contract between the person affected and the data
controller; where it is authorised by law, subject to the proviso that
there should be suitable protections for the data subject’s rights,
freedoms and legitimate interests; and where the data subject has
consented. We should be cautious about the application of the consent-
based exception in cases involving public bodies, as is made clear by
the recitals to the Regulation. Recital 42 states that consent should not
be regarded as freely given “if the data subject has no genuine or free
choice or is unable to refuse or withdraw consent without detriment”.
Recital 43 provides that in order to ensure that consent is freely given,
consent should not provide a valid legal ground for the processing of
personal data in a specific case where there is a clear imbalance
between the data subject and the controller, “in particular where the
controller is a public authority” and it is therefore unlikely that consent
was freely given in all the circumstances of that specific situation. In
most cases the reality is that individuals have no genuine choice when
accessing public services, or submitting to public decision-making. It
is therefore more fitting for a public body to rely on the exception in
art.22(2)(b) for decisions authorised by law.
Article 22(3) GDPR further provides that in relation to the first and
third of these exceptions the data controller must implement suitable
measures to safeguard the data subject’s rights and freedoms and
legitimate interests, at least the right to obtain human intervention on
the part of the controller, to express his or her point of view and to
contest the decision.
Article 22(4) contains further limits to the exceptions listed in
art.22(2). Thus, they cannot be used in relation to categories of data
mentioned in art.9 GDPR, which deals with data relating to matters
such as a person’s race, sexuality, ethnicity or religion, unless the data
subject has consented, or the processing is necessary for reasons of
substantial public interest on the basis of national law, is proportionate
to the aim pursued and respects the essence of the right to data
protection.
10–015 The duty applies to public authorities as listed in Sch.19 to the 2010
Act and to bodies exercising a public function, which is defined as a
function of a public nature for the purposes of the Human Rights Act
1998.43 It is, moreover, open to a minister of the Crown to impose
specific duties on public authorities for the better performance of the
duties contained in s.149(1).44 Failure in respect of these duties does
not give rise to a cause of action in private law,45 but it can be the
subject of judicial review. The case law concerning s.149 is analysed
in the chapter on equality.46
The salient point for present purposes concerns s.149 and AI
systems. Users of such systems must ensure that they are in conformity
with s.149. If a decision made pursuant to such a system causes the
recipient of the decision to be treated worse than someone else because
of one of these protected characteristics, then the decision will be
unlawful.
This is exemplified by Bridges, the facts of which were set out
above.47 Police use of automatic facial recognition technology (AFR)
was also held to be unlawful because the police had not done all it
reasonably could to fulfil the public sector equality duty. The court
held that public concern about the relationship between the police and
Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic communities had not diminished
and the duty was important to ensure that a public authority did not
inadvertently overlook the potential discriminatory impact of a new,
seemingly neutral, policy. The police force had never investigated
whether AFR had an unacceptable bias on grounds of race or gender.
The fact that the technology was being piloted made no difference to
the duty.
A. Introduction
10–017 Judicial review is a legal mechanism for holding government and other
public bodies to account for the power that they exercise. Judicial
review doctrine is elaborated in Chs 12–30 of this work. Decisions
made pursuant to AI systems are subject to the same doctrinal tools of
judicial review as are decisions made by more traditional means. There
are, however, difficulties in the application of judicial review where
decisions are made using algorithms and the like. These will be
explicated below. Before doing so, it is important to stand back and
consider features of AI systems that are problematic for all aspects of
judicial review, notwithstanding the fact that the particular way in
which the difficulty is manifest may vary across the doctrinal terrain.
First, judicial review doctrine has developed over the last 400
years in the UK, but certain core features remain constant
notwithstanding the effluxion of time. The central assumption has
been, as Bateman notes, that statutory powers are exercised by agents
who have certain cognitive capacities, who can give reasons
for the exercise of power in a particular manner, and to whom social
and political responsibility can be attributed.51 These assumptions are
challenged when decisions are made by AI systems.
Secondly, there are problems concerning opacity when algorithmic
systems are deployed. Cobbe identifies three such problems. There
may be intentional opacity, “where the system’s workings are
concealed to protect intellectual property”. There may be illiterate
opacity, “where a system is only understandable to those who can read
and write computer code”. There may also be intrinsic opacity, “where
a system’s complex decision-making process itself is difficult for any
human to understand”.52 It can then be difficult to discern whether, for
example, there is bias or discrimination built into the algorithm that
affects the individual decision.
10–018 Thirdly, much, albeit not all, of judicial review is concerned with the
decision-making process, how the decision was made, and the factors
that influenced the decision. The complexity of many algorithmic
decisions means that the decision-making process may be
incomprehensible, save for the minority with the requisite technical
expertise. Moreover, as Oswald has noted, even if the input data and
algorithmic method are disclosed, it is the interplay between the two
that yields the complexity that many find difficult to comprehend, and
this is unlikely to be alleviated by an “information dump” into the
public domain.53
Fourthly, AI systems that use algorithms are not going to
disappear, nor should they do so, since there are many instances where
decisions made using such tools are beneficial. There are a limited
number of juridical techniques at our disposal when we think about the
fit between such systems and judicial review doctrine. We might
decide that the use of AI is unlawful in certain types of situation; we
might impose substantive conditions on the use of such systems; we
might require procedural safeguards; we might demand substantive
and procedural conditions; and/or we might modify the way in which
remedial principles operate. We might alternatively continue to apply
established judicial review principles with no cognisable doctrinal
change for AI systems, while recognising that the application of
existing principles may play out differently where decisions are made
through algorithms.
The discussion in the remainder of this section exemplifies the
problems set out above, and considers the possible response in terms
of modification of administrative law doctrine. It is not exhaustive of
these issues, merely illustrative.
B. Natural Justice, Reasons and Bias
10–019 Process rights in relation to individualised decisions have traditionally
been based on natural justice, which encapsulates two ideas: that the
individual be given adequate notice of the charge and an adequate
hearing (audi alteram partem), and that the adjudicator be unbiased
(nemo judex in causa sua).54 There are a number of issues concerning
the application of these precepts where the decision is made by an AI
system. These issues are best approached by paying attention to the
principles that underpin existing doctrine.
First, if an individual would, in accord with established case law,
be entitled to a hearing before a decision is made then the strong
presumption is that this should not change merely because the
instrumentality through which the decision is made is via an AI
system, rather than traditional human agency. A legal system must
necessarily have some criterion for deciding whether such procedural
protection is applicable. It is common for legal systems to focus on the
nature of the applicant’s interest. The general approach used by our
courts is to consider whether there is some right, interest or legitimate
expectation such as to warrant the applicability of procedural
protection.55 It follows that an AI system would be unlawful insofar as
it made a decision without the possibility for a prior hearing in
circumstances where the individual has a right, interest or legitimate
expectation that would trigger hearing rights prior to the decision
being made. It would be for the public body to argue that this strong
presumption should be displaced, and the arguments for doing so
would have to be compelling.
Secondly, an individual may contend that an AI system exhibits
systemic or structural unfairness.56 The assumption is that the
individual possesses a right, interest or legitimate expectation that is
worthy of protection. The breach of natural justice is not, however,
confined to something done to the particular individual. The rationale
for intervention is that there is a systemic or structural infirmity that
constitutes the breach of natural justice.57
Thirdly, the individual may not, however, have a right to natural
justice prior to the initial decision being made, but does have a process
right to challenge it thereafter before it becomes finalised. This
represents the status quo in many areas. There are many automated
systems through which penalties are imposed, as exemplified by
speeding offences, where there is no right to a hearing prior to the
initial imposition of the penalty. The particular penalty regime will,
however, normally contain provisions whereby an individual can
challenge the penalty through a hearing in, for example, a magistrates’
court. If he or she does not do so within a particular period of time, the
penalty becomes payable.
10–020 Fourthly, there may be circumstances where an automated system does
not formally “make” the decision as such, but is nonetheless
instrumental in
determining the outcome, through prediction or recommendation. This
divide may well be fragile.58 In any event, the salient doctrinal
principles in such instances are the duty to give reasons and the
provision of evidence to support the reasons thus provided.59 Reason-
giving sits on the cusp of procedural and substantive review. It is an
important dimension of due process, insofar as it is arbitrary to have
one’s status redefined without an adequate explanation of the reasons
for the action. An obligation to provide reasons helps to ensure that the
decision has been thought through by the agency. It facilitates
substantive review, since concepts such as relevancy, propriety of
purpose or proportionality are easier to apply if the public body’s
reasons are evident. It is also important to scrutinise the evidentiary
base that underpins the reasons that have been proffered. A public
body may provide clear reasons for its decision, but the reasons may
not withstand scrutiny in light of the available evidence.
The application of these doctrinal precepts may, however, be
difficult in relation to AI systems. This is in part because of their
opacity, in part because of their technical complexity,60 and in part
because those affected may not even be aware that recommendations
denying them a job, or other opportunity, have been based on AI
systems.61 It is, moreover, important to know what more specifically is
being sought through reason-giving when an algorithmically generated
prediction or recommendation forms part of a decision-making
process. We may wish to know the degree of fit between the data on
which the algorithm was trained and the circumstances of the
individual case, or whether the outcome is likely to be defective in
certain respects. It may be necessary to develop a concept of
technological due process, as suggested by Citron and Pasquale. They
argue that people should have a “right to inspect, correct, and dispute
inaccurate data and to know the sources (furnishers) of the data”.62
They further contend for transparency, in the sense that an algorithm
that generates a score from the data should be publicly accessible, and
that policymakers should ensure that the score is fair, accurate, and
replicable.
The Report from the ICO and the Alan Turing Institute lays
considerable emphasis on the importance of explaining AI-assisted
decisions to affected individuals, which will then enhance trust in the
organisation.63 It identifies six main types of explanation: “rationale
explanation”, connoting the reasons that led to a decision;
“responsibility explanation”, who is involved in the development,
management and implementation of an AI system, and who to contact
for a human review of a decision; “data explanation”, what data has
been used in a particular decision and how; “fairness explanation”,
meaning the steps taken when designing the AI system to ensure that
decisions are unbiased and fair;
“safety and performance explanation”, the steps taken to maximise the
accuracy, reliability, security and robustness of AI decisions; and
“impact explanation”, steps taken to monitor the impacts that the use
of an AI system and its decisions has or may have on an individual,
and on wider society.
Fifthly, there is the other dimension of natural justice, which is the
proscription of bias. AI systems can be positive in this respect, since
they commonly embody the principle that like cases should be treated
alike, thereby precluding some instances of bias when decisions are
made through human agency. However, to be balanced against this is
the danger that the AI system may be based on biased criteria, which is
fed into the system through training data. This may then be entrenched
in the system, such that it may, for example, exacerbate the situation of
particular groups that were societally disadvantaged in the past. This
danger is heightened by the opacity and technical complexity of some
AI systems, more especially when they embody a significant element
of machine learning. This danger can be alleviated by the provision of
reasons that renders transparent the assumptions on which the AI
system was built.
C. Duty to Inquire
10–021 The use of AI systems raises important issues concerning the
application of the duty to inquire, since there may be instances where
the essence of the complaint is that the public authority did not
properly consider the risks associated with use of AI technology.64 The
traditional legal test in such instances is the Tameside duty65 where the
decision-maker must “take reasonable steps to acquaint himself with
the relevant information”, in order to determine the risk. It is, however,
not easy for a claimant to show breach of this duty, because the courts
have circumscribed its application.
The duty is limited in the following manner66: the obligation on the
decision-maker is only to take such steps to inform himself as are
reasonable; subject to a Wednesbury challenge, it is for the public body
and not the court to decide upon the manner and intensity of enquiry to
be undertaken; the court should not intervene merely because it
considers that further enquiries would have been sensible or desirable,
but only if no reasonable authority could have been satisfied on the
basis of the enquiries made that it possessed the information necessary
for its decision; the court should establish what material was before the
authority and should only strike down a decision not to make further
enquiries if no reasonable authority possessed of that material could
suppose that the enquiries they had made were sufficient; the wider the
discretion conferred on the Secretary of State, the more important that
he or she has all the relevant material to enable the discretion to be
properly exercised.
It is arguable that the limits on application of the Tameside duty
have been drawn too narrowly. We should, in any event, think
carefully about the application of the preceding criteria in the present
context. This is so for two related reasons.
First, the preceding case law is principally concerned with the
scope of the duty to inquire about facts, considerations and the like
that can impact on the decision, but are nonetheless extraneous to it.
The salient issue here is different. It concerns the scope of the duty to
inquire into the risks posed by AI systems, where those systems make
the decision, or contribute significantly to the final determination.
There is, therefore, a strong argument that the duty to inquire in the
latter instance should be more demanding. Secondly, if we persist with
the established legal criteria set out above then it will be extremely
difficult, if not impossible, for a claimant to prove that the duty has
been broken. This would constitute a “licence” to use AI technology
without proper consideration of the associated risks. There is no
warrant for this. AI systems can be highly beneficial. They can also
pose risks of the kind considered above. There is no reason why a
public authority should, for example, be able to use a complex
algorithm that turns out to be highly problematic and then contend that
it had no duty to inquire into such risks over and beyond the bare
bones of the criteria in the previous paragraph. This is more especially
so given that the general public will be unable to comprehend the AI
system that makes the decision, or that is instrumental to that decision.
The public authority should have a duty to inform itself of such risks,
but it should not be circumscribed by the strict Wednesbury limits as
set out above. Alternatively, the application of those Wednesbury
limits should be interpreted contextually in accord with established
case law, such that if the AI system contained risks for fundamental
rights, or other important interests, the Wednesbury test should be
interpreted to require more searching review.
D. Jurisdiction
10–022 Public bodies are commonly accorded authority through a statute,
which will define the conditions on which the authority can be used.
The legislation may give a public body authority to decide that if a
furnished tenancy exists it may adjudicate on the rent, or if an
employee is unfairly dismissed he or she may be awarded
compensation. All such grants of authority may be expressed in the
following manner: if X exists the public body may or shall do Y. X
may consist of a number of different elements, factual, legal and
discretionary. There may be multiple X issues specified in the enabling
legislation. Thus, it may state that if property is seized in a particular
country between certain dates, and the claimant is the owner of the
property, then it may be awarded compensation.
An individual may contend that the public authority made an error
of law in the meaning of, for example, the term employee, which is
part of the X question. The legal action may also be brought by the
affected company, which argues that it should not have to pay
compensation because the affected individual was not an “employee”
and the public body did not therefore have jurisdiction over the claim.
The standard of review used by courts in such instances is elaborated
below.67 An individual or individuals in the relevant authority have
traditionally made determinations concerning the meaning of such
conditions. The salient issue for present purposes is whether there is a
difference if the decision is made through an AI system. The answer
will depend crucially on the standard of review adopted by the court.
In UK law, the default position is that courts substitute judgment
on the legal meaning of the X condition. It is for the court to decide on
the legal meaning of the term “furnished tenancy” or “employee”, and
if the public body’s decision is not in accord with this it will be
quashed. There is no reason why this should change if the meaning
accorded to X is made by an algorithm. The courts have made a
normative choice that substitution of judgment should be the standard
of review as to the legal meaning of the X conditions that define the
scope of the public body’s authority. There is no reason why this
normative choice should alter merely because the instrumentality
through which the meaning of the X condition is determined is
automated rather than traditional human agency.
There is, however, a second-order issue as to how the legal
meaning of the X condition is discerned when the decision is made by
an algorithm. In traditional cases this would be decided by considering
evidence, reasons, transcripts and the like, from which the legal
meaning of the X condition accorded by the public authority could be
determined. The reviewing court would then decide whether this
cohered with its own considered judgment as to the meaning of the
term. This exercise may well be more difficult where the decision has
been made by or through an AI-system. The algorithm may be set up
such that there are criteria used in deciding whether the X condition
has been fulfilled or not. It may nonetheless not be easy to discover
these criteria, and the legal meaning that results from such aggregated
criteria may not be self-evident. However, in some instances, as
Williams notes, the process of having to specify these criteria to a
machine through a rules-based system might actually make it more
transparent, and more conscious, with the consequence that there is
potentially more material for a court to review than there would be for
a human decision-maker.68
10–023 There are, however, instances where the reviewing court does not
substitute judgment for the primary decision-maker, but affords it
some latitude when it determines the legal meaning of the X condition
specified in the legislation.69 The considerations specified above are
equally applicable here.
Thus, there is no reason why the shift from traditional decision-
making to AI systems should, in itself, affect the standard of review.
The court has made a normative choice that some greater degree of
deference or latitude should be given to the public body in certain
instances when deciding on the legal meaning of an X condition. The
mere fact that the very same decision is made through an AI system
should not cause this choice to be altered.
This default assumption may, however, be displaced. Thus, while
there is no inherent reason why AI systems should be less accurate
than decisions made by human agency, such systems are trained using
existing data, meaning that “any bias or societal inequality which
currently exists in the world as a result of those
biased human decisions is explicitly baked”70 into their creation.
Moreover, there is a concern that if such a system is flawed then this
may have a broad impact. This is because it may be used on a greater
scale than traditional decision-making, with the consequence that even
if there is a lower percentage of wrong decisions, the AI system will
make many more decisions overall and thus more people will be
affected.71
E. Delegation
10–024 Judicial review contains principles concerned with delegation. The
general starting point is that if discretion is vested in a certain person it
must be exercised by that person.72 Legislation will accord a particular
person or body the power and duties laid down therein. This is a
principle, not a rigid rule. Whether a person or body other than that
named in the empowering statute is allowed to act will depend on the
statutory context. The nature of the subject-matter, the degree of
control retained by the person delegating, and the type of person or
body to whom the power is delegated, will be taken into account. It is
accepted that where powers are granted to a minister they can be
exercised by the department, what is known as the Carltona
principle,73 since it would be impossible for the minister personally to
give consideration to each case. It is clear moreover that where civil
servants act on behalf of ministers there is no delegation as such at
all.74 There are then two related issues concerning delegation and AI
systems.
There is the issue as to whether it is lawful for the person or body
specified in the legislation to use an automated system. The courts may
draw by analogy on existing case law, whereby those who take advice
from others are not necessarily regarded as having delegated their
authority to them. This is, however, dependent on the person or body
specified in the legislation having some reserve power as to the
decision reached. This condition would not be met if the automated
system made the decision without meaningful human intervention. It
would have to be shown that the nominated person had the authority
and competence to change the decision, and considered all relevant
information. In the absence of this, the automated system would not be
lawful, unless provision for such a system was contained in the
empowering legislation.75
There is the related issue as to how far it would be lawful for a
person other than that specified in the legislation to make the decision
using an AI system. The answer as a matter of first principle is as
follows. If on ordinary principles, it would be lawful to delegate to
another person, or for another person to make the decision pursuant to
the Carltona principle even if there is in law no delegation as such,
then the reasoning in the previous paragraph is applicable by analogy.
It would be lawful to use an AI system, provided the person to whom
the power was
delegated, or the person exercising the power pursuant to the Carltona
principle, had authority over the final determination in the manner
adumbrated above. In the absence of this, use of the automated system
would not be lawful, unless provision for such a system was contained
in the empowering legislation.
B. Model Rules
10–031 An alternative approach, which is not inconsistent in substance with
that set out above, is to focus on Model Rules that can be adopted by a
country to deal with AI systems. The European Law Institute devised
such a set of rules, where the primary focus is on impact assessment.92
The Model Rules are predicated on
certain automated systems, as defined in an annex, always being
subject to an impact assessment, and other such systems, as defined in
an annex, as being not subject to such an assessment. If a system is not
listed in either annex it can be subject to an impact assessment if
evaluation from a questionnaire indicates that the level of risk warrants
this. There is a standard impact assessment and further provision for
high-risk systems.
Where a public authority intends to use an automated decision
system,93 and is under an obligation to conduct an impact
assessment,94 the report must describe: the purposes and functioning
of the system; the impact of the system on the factors set out in art.7;
the effectiveness and efficiency of the system; and the legality of the
use of the system under the applicable law. Where the report identifies
risks, the public authority must explain why it is necessary and
proportional to take these risks and what measures have been taken to
mitigate them. The impact assessment covers the development of the
algorithm, the selection of training data, and an estimation as to
whether the system will be flawed by low quality real-time data during
its use. There is provision for repetition of the impact assessment if
implementation of the system has effects that differ significantly from
those envisaged in the initial report.95
Article 7 specifies the factors that are to be taken into account
when conducting the impact assessment. They include: human agency
and oversight; technical robustness and safety; accuracy, precision and
functional limits; protection of fundamental rights according to the
applicable law; privacy and data governance; diversity, non-
discrimination and fairness; societal and environmental well-being;
transparency and explainability; and accountability structures. There is
an emphasis on the report being capable of being understood by the
general public, through attachment of a summary if necessary.96
10–032 Where the impact assessment reveals that the automated system
contains a high-risk as judged by the preceding factors, there is an
audit by an independent expert board. The external expert audit
evaluates the overall quality of the impact assessment report, including
its accuracy, adequacy, and completeness.97 The public authority that
conducted the initial impact assessment has a duty to respond to the
external audit, and the result is made public.
There is provision for broader consultation and participation.98
Thus, public authorities that may be concerned or affected by the
automated decision system must be given the opportunity to express
their view. There is also provision for broader public participation.
This requires that the public be informed, inter alia,
of the fact that the automated decision system is subject to an impact
assessment procedure; the public authority involved; and the timetable
for transmission of comments. The public must be given effective
opportunities to participate in the evaluation of the automated decision
system and must be able to express comments and opinions when all
options are open to the implementing authority before the decision on
implementing the automated decision system is taken. The final impact
assessment report must take account of the opinions expressed in the
public participation process.99
The Model Rules also provide for oversight by a national
supervisory authority and for access to a review procedure before a
court or similar body for those with a sufficient interest, or a right, to
challenge the legality of decisions or other acts that were made or
assisted by the system if an error occurred during the impact
assessment.
C. Expert Commission
10–033 Lord Sales notes that algorithms and AI present huge opportunities to
improve the human condition, but also pose grave threats.100 He
advocates impact assessment and an independent expert algorithm
commission.101
It would be a new agency for scrutiny of programmes in light of
the public interest, which would be a public resource for government,
Parliament, the courts and the public. The commission would be
staffed by an admixture of coding technicians, lawyers and ethicists. It
would be given access to commercially sensitive code on strict
condition that its confidentiality is protected. It would also invite
representations from interested persons and groups in civil society and
publish reports from its reviews, to provide transparency in relation to
the digital processes.
Lord Sales regards the proposed commission as an independent
regulator, akin to regulators of utilities, which would ensure “that
critical coding services were made available to all and that services
made available to the public meet relevant standards”.102 It would
supply “the expert understanding which is required for effective law-
making, guidance and control in relation to digital systems”.103
9. CONCLUSION
10–034 Automated decision-making is already a central feature of decision-
making in many areas. The issues posed by its use are therefore real,
not hypothetical. It is generally accepted that such decision-making
can have significant benefits, but that it also poses significant risks.
This is attested to by the growing volume of literature from all
disciplines that considers the implications of such systems.
There are challenges for law, private as well as public. These
challenges are especially pertinent to public law, both constitutional
and administrative law, as is evident from the preceding discussion.
1 See, e.g. F. Pasquale, The Black Box Society, The Secret Algorithms that
p.6.
5 Yeung, “Algorithmic Regulation: A Critical Interrogation” (2018) 12
17 https://www.appg-ai.org/#:~:text=All-
Party%20Parliamentary%20Group%20on%20Artificial%20Intelligence%20%2
8APPG%20AI%29,by%20Stephen%20Metcalfe%20MP%20and%20Lord%20Cl
ement-Jones%20CBE [accessed 28 January 2021].
18 https://www.linkedin.com/company/appg-ai [accessed 10 March 2021].
19 https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/government-digital-service
[accessed 28 January 2021].
20 https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/government-digital-
service/about [accessed 28 January 2021].
21 https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/office-for-artificial-intelligence
[accessed 28 January 2021].
22 https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/office-for-artificial-intelligence
[accessed 28 January 2021].
23 https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/centre-for-data-ethics-and-
innovation [accessed 28 January 2021].
24 https://ico.org.uk/for-organisations/guide-to-data-protection/guide-to-the-
general-data-protection-regulation-gdpr/individual-rights/rights-related-to-
automated-decision-making-including-profiling/ [accessed 28 January 2021].
25 https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/uk-national-data-
strategy/national-data-strategy#executive-summary [accessed 28 January 2021].
26 J. Cobbe, M. Seng Ah Lee, H. Janssen, and J. Singh, “Centering the Law in
the Digital State”, https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?
abstract_id=3673843 [accessed 28 January 2021], pp.3–4.
27 https://www.gov.uk/government/collections/a-guide-to-using-artificial-
intelligence-in-the-public-sector;
https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/atta
chment_data/file/923108/Data_Ethics_Framework_2020.pdf;
https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/data-ethics-framework/data-ethics-
framework-legislation-and-codes-of-practice-for-use-of-data [accessed 28
January 2021].
28 Regulation (EU) 2016/679 of the European Parliament and of the Council of
27 April 2016 on the protection of natural persons with regard to the processing
of personal data and on the free movement of such data, [2016] OJ L119/1. From
January 2021, the GDPR will be contained in a UK GDPR and the government
has published a Keeling schedule to that effect,
https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/data-protection-law-eu-exit
[accessed 28 January 2021]. However, whether the UK data strategy changes
more substantively post-Brexit remains to be seen, and will be affected by the
National Data Strategy, https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/uk-
national-data-strategy/national-data-strategy [accessed 28 January 2021].
29 For discussion of the different interpretations of this obligation, see, Williams,
“Rethinking Administrative law for Automated Decision-making”, forthcoming.
30 See also, DPA 2018 ss.49–50, 96.
31 GDPR art.5(1)(a).
32 ICO and the Alan Turing Institute, Explaining Decisions Made with AI
(2020), pp.10–11.
33 GDPR art.5(1)(b), subject to the qualification for further use for archival,
statistical or scientific purposes.
34 GDPR art.5(1)(c).
35 GDPR art.5(1)(d).
36 GDPR art.5(1)(e).
37 GDPR art.5(1)(f).
38 ICO and the Alan Turing Institute, Explaining Decisions Made with AI
(2020), pp.10–11.
39 R. (Bridges) v Chief Constable of South Wales Police [2020] EWCA Civ 1058
at [147]–[154].
40 Race Relations Act 1976 s.71(1); Sex Discrimination Act 1975 s.76A(1);
48 See Ch.20.
21, 22–23.
65 Secretary of State for Education and Science v Tameside MBC [1977] A.C.
1014 at 1065.
66 R. (Khatun) v Newham LBC [2005] Q.B. 37 at [35]; R. (Plantagenet Alliance
Ltd) v Secretary of State for Justice [2014] EWHC 1662 (QB) at [99]–[100];
Balajigari v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2019] 1 W.L.R. 4647
at [70].
67 Chapter 16.
68 Williams, “Rethinking Administrative Law for Automated Decision-making”,
forthcoming.
69 Chapter 16.
[52].
75 Cobbe, “Administrative Law and the Machines of Government: Judicial
91 ICO and the Alan Turing Institute, Explaining Decisions Made with AI
(2020), pp.16–20.
92 European Law Institute, Model Rules on Impact Assessment of Artificial
65.
101 Sales, “Algorithms, Artificial Intelligence and the Law” (2020) 25(1) J.R. 46,
54–57.
102 Sales, “Algorithms, Artificial Intelligence and the Law” (2020) 25(1) J.R. 46,
56.
103 Sales, “Algorithms, Artificial Intelligence and the Law” (2020) 25(1) J.R. 46,
56.
CHAPTER 11
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
11–001 i. The institutions directly covered by administrative law have been
considered in the previous chapters. It is, however, helpful to
consider the administrative process in more detail, and this
chapter will do so in relation to competition policy and the
regulation of utilities and market power.
ii. These areas are well-suited to such an analysis. They demonstrate
how the choice of regulatory machinery has been affected by
political considerations. They exemplify many of the procedural
and substantive issues with which administrative law has to
grapple. They are also important given the market-based
approach to regulation.
iii. There are three central issues that have to be addressed in any
instance where the state is thinking of engaging in regulation.
iv. The first is whether to regulate at all and if so why. In some
instances the answer is obvious. The state may seek to regulate an
area to prevent, for example, the production of dangerous drugs.
In other instances the rationale for intervention is more debatable.
v. The second issue concerns choice of the regulator. This may be
obvious in certain areas, but there is often a choice of regulatory
authority. It might for example, be decided that it is best to
regulate the area through a department of central government,
through a governmental agency outside the normal departmental
structure or through a more formal tribunal. This chapter
examines the factors that shape such choices.
vi. The third issue is concerned with how to regulate. This is perhaps
the most complex, since it entails the greatest range of choices to
be made. Suffice it to say for the present that if it is decided to
regulate there will inevitably be a range of more detailed matters
to be resolved concerning the objectives of the regulatory schema
and how they are to be attained in a particular area.
E. Enforcement
11–013 If a regulatory strategy is to be successful then it must be enforced.
The choice of enforcement mechanisms can throw light on the
regulatory regime. Two features have characterised the enforcement
process in this area: the emphasis on negotiation, and on public as
opposed to private enforcement. These will be considered in turn.
Regulatory systems often have formal enforcement powers that
mask a more informal process of negotiation between the parties.
Competition policy placed negotiation at the forefront of its regulatory
strategy. The DGFT was instructed to seek undertakings pursuant to an
adverse report from the MMC under the Fair Trading Act 1973.40
Under the Competition Act 1980 the emphasis was on
negotiation between the DGFT and the firm under investigation.41
More formal powers existed should the negotiating strategy prove
unsuccessful,42 but they were regarded as a long stop. This same
theme is apparent in the Competition Act 1998. The CMA has
significant formal enforcement powers, including the ability to impose
interim measures and to fine.43 The legislation nonetheless places
much emphasis on reaching a solution without recourse to such formal
measures. Thus the first step in the “enforcement process” will be
directions issued by the CMA as to how the infringement can be
brought to an end by, for example, modifying an agreement or
conduct.44 The importance given to the “negotiated solution” reflects
the belief that this will be more effective than a formal legal sanction.
Competition policy in the UK has traditionally evinced a strong
preference for public as opposed to private enforcement. With few
exceptions, the enforcement process has been concentrated in the
hands of the DGFT/CMA and the secretary of state. Individuals have
had little role to play. They may serve as a catalyst for the initiation of
an investigation, but they are not generally viewed as a separate means
of enforcement in their own right. This stands in stark contrast to
competition policy in, for example, the EU and the US where private
actions assume a more prominent role.45
The other area in which the common law courts exercised influence is
less well known. It was almost forgotten, but it is of considerable
importance. The courts held that the common law imposed an
obligation on those who had market power to charge no more than a
reasonable price for their goods. The courts were in effect imposing a
common law based species of price regulation on those who wielded
monopoly power, and they reasoned through the rationale for doing so
from first principles.
In Allnutt97 the question was whether the London Dock Company,
which by licence from Parliament possessed a monopoly to receive
certain wines, could lawfully exclude from the docks a cargo owner
who refused to pay their schedule of charges. Lord Ellenborough
reasoned as follows.98 While a man could fix his own price for the use
of his property, he could not do so where the public had a right to
resort to the premises and make use of them. Where a person had the
benefit of a monopoly this entailed a correlative responsibility, the
consequence of which was that he could charge no more than a
reasonable price for the service offered. The monopoly itself could be
either “legal” or “factual”: it could result from the grant of an
exclusive licence from Parliament, or it could exist because, on the
facts, the provider of the service controlled the entirety of the space
available for the warehousing of the goods. The statute, which required
that the goods be warehoused in the Dock Company’s premises, was
not passed solely for the benefit of the Company, but also for the
benefit of trade and the public. The latter purposes could be defeated if
the Dock Company was at liberty to charge any price it chose.
11–028 Similar reasoning is evident in other areas where monopoly power
existed. In Pawlett99 the corporation possessed the right to hold two
fairs each year. It customarily received a “toll” of 2d on the sale of
certain items at the fair. The defendant refused to pay the toll. The
court held that where the word toll was found in a charter it should be
taken to mean reasonable toll. It was not open to the King to allow a
corporation to charge an unreasonable toll, and any such excess charge
could be recovered in a legal action. The principle underlying such
cases is the same as that expounded above. The grantee of rights to a
market or fair was the holder of an exclusive privilege. The grant was
not merely for his benefit, but for the benefit of the public and the
trade. It could be defeated if any price whatsoever could be charged.100
This reasoning receives further support from limits placed on those
engaged in common callings, who could only charge a reasonable
price for their services.101 The history of common callings is complex
and cannot be fully developed here. The origin of the term common
calling was simply one that was available to the public generally, “a
holding out”. There could therefore be common carriers, common
innkeepers, and common millers. Those who exercised a common
calling had a duty to serve at a reasonable price. Historically this
obligation appears to have evolved due to economic and social
conditions. In times of social hardship, such as the period following
the Black Death, surviving tradesmen might exact “any price they
pleased”.102 The obligation to serve at reasonable rates was intended to
counteract this potential for abuse of market power. As the law
developed the types of industry that retained the label “common”
tended to be those with a monopoly character, such as railways and
public utilities.
It would therefore be mistaken to regard the common law as
having had no regulatory role within this area. There is moreover a
link between common law regulation by the courts and departmental
regulation: the two formed an intersecting web as will be apparent
from the subsequent discussion.
B. Departmental Regulation
11–029 The pattern of administrative development in the 19th century has
already been reviewed and one aspect is of particular relevance
here.103 Many administrative functions during this period were
undertaken neither by central nor local government. They were often
performed by corporations, which had special statutory authority
insofar as this was necessary to enable them to carry out their tasks.
The provision of most utilities, such as water, lighting, canals, railways
and roads, was carried out in this way even after the reform of the
municipal corporations. Moreover, such bodies normally possessed a
large degree of market power. A considerable amount of time was
spent in the Commons on the legislation that empowered the statutory
undertakings to perform these tasks. For example, in 1844 there were
248 Railway Bills, which necessitated a system of Commons’
committees to oversee their passage. It also led to the introduction of
“Model Bills” concerned with issues such as the compulsory purchase
of land,
and railway development, to ensure greater uniformity in the measures
which emerged.104 The growing need to pave roads to render them
suitable for increased use by heavier wheeled traffic was the
motivation behind the turnpike trusts, and by 1830 there were 1,100 in
existence.105 Once again, each such turnpike trust derived its power
from a local Act of Parliament, subject to supervision pursuant to more
general Turnpike Acts. Improvement Commissioners, who derived
their authority from a local Act of Parliament, often undertook the
provision of municipal lighting and cleansing.
The rates charged for services by those who possessed a degree of
statutory monopoly power had to be regulated. A common technique
was for direct departmental supervision of the “tariff” that the statutory
undertaking proposed to charge. This was used, for example, in
relation to roads and canals. The trustees or commissioners would
forward to the Board of Trade a detailed list of the prices they intended
to levy, specifying, for example, that the toll to be charged for a wagon
of certain size and weight which journeyed from Oxford to Woodstock
would be Xd. The Board of Trade had to approve such charges before
they could be lawfully levied. Direct departmental price regulation in
areas of market power was, therefore, quite common.
We can now understand the link between common law and
departmental price regulation. The former was utilised particularly
where direct departmental price regulation was absent. This could be
either because the area might be one over which no departmental
supervision had yet been established; or it might be an area where it
was difficult to exercise departmental supervision. This normally
operated through a relatively fixed series of possible charges: so much
per mile, per weight, etc. There could be areas where this type of
advance delineation of charges might not be possible, principally
because the variables that could affect the price were more complex. It
was such areas in which the common law proscription that
“unreasonable charges” should not be levied remained of particular
relevance.106
D. Public Ownership
11–031 The nationalisation of the railways provides a suitable transition to the
option of public ownership. Earlier discussion revealed how the choice
of regulatory institution was influenced by the political beliefs of those
who operate the system. Thus, the very demise of the board system
was caused by the growing insistence that there should be a member of
the executive directly answerable in the Commons for major spheres
of administrative activity.116 Certain changes in the institutions to
regulate the railways were motivated by the wish for more direct
legislative control.
The shift towards public ownership provides a further
exemplification of this theme. While the reasons for nationalisation
were eclectic, a prominent rationale was that major repositories of
market power should be within state ownership in order that excess
profits should not be left in private hands, and to ensure that the
industry operated in the public interest. The general difficulties that
beset the nationalised industries were considered above.117 What is
relevant here is the fact that public ownership of a firm with market
power does not, in and of itself, mean that the firm will necessarily be
operated so as to further the public interest.118 This point can be
understood by considering the gas industry prior to privatisation.
The industry was nationalised by the Gas Act 1948, and there were
12 area boards that were largely autonomous as regards the
manufacture and supply of gas. Operations were later centralised119
with a single public corporation assuming responsibility for the
activities covered by the 12 boards. As Vickers and Yarrow state120:
“By the 1970’s the policy framework for the industry had been brought into line with that
pertaining in telecommunications and electricity generation: there was a single national firm,
protected from competition by statutory entry barriers and regulated by a department of
central government. The underlying rationale for this approach was the familiar argument
that the core activities of gas transmission and distribution constituted a natural monopoly,
and that the operation of more than one firm in the market would therefore lead to cost
inefficiencies. To protect consumers from the effects of the resulting market power, it was
considered desirable that the industry should be publicly owned and controlled.”
11–032 The transfer of the industry to public ownership did not, however,
necessarily serve to ensure that the consumers really were protected.
Important aspects of the operation of the British Gas Corporation were
open to serious question. Thus, British Gas was granted sole rights to
purchase gas from other producers. The ostensible reason was to
prevent the accumulation of excessive profits by such producers, but it
is highly questionable whether the award of this privileged
position to British Gas was the optimum method of achieving this
goal.121 Moreover, research indicates that British Gas was selling its
product at too low a price.122 Consumers can be harmed by paying too
little as well as by being overcharged. If the former occurs the product
is rendered “artificially” attractive as compared with other possible
fuels. Too much is consumed at the artificially low price, with the
consequence that resources within society are allocated inefficiently.
Irrespective therefore of the problems caused by ad hoc governmental
interference with public corporations, the retention of ownership in
public hands did not always lead to the accrual of public benefit.
It is, moreover, important to place this issue in its broader context. The
substantive norms applied by regulatory agencies necessarily raises
wider issues as to the way in which we conceptualise public-sector
service delivery.186 This issue has been considered above and
reference should be made to that discussion.
8. CONCLUSION
11–047 No attempt will be made to summarise the entirety of the preceding
arguments. What this discussion demonstrates is that administrative
law principles must be seen as but part of a larger picture concerned
with the institutional design of
administrative systems. The “whether”, “who” and “how” questions
that have formed the framework of this chapter could be applied to any
substantive area that is of concern to administrative law.
1 Mogul SS Co Ltd v McGregor Gow [1892] A.C. 25 HL; Sorrell v Smith [1925]
pp.32−33.
5 White Paper, Employment Policy (1944), Cmd.6527.
6 G. Allen, Monopoly and Restrictive Practices (London: Allen & Unwin, 1968),
p.62.
7 See Ch.4.
8 Fair Trading Act 1973 s.50. A government minister could also refer, s.51.
Cmnd.7512.
13 P. Craig, “The Monopolies and Mergers Commission: Competition and
Administrative Rationality”, in Baldwin and McCrudden (eds), Regulation and
Public Law (1987), Ch.10. A later government report indirectly undermined
much of the reasoning contained in the earlier report: Green Paper, Review of
Restrictive Trade Practices Policy (1988), Cm.331.
14 Restrictive Trade Practices Acts 1976 and 1977, Restrictive Practices Court
Act 1976 and the Resale Prices Act 1976. See Competition Act 1998 s.1.
15 Competition Act 1980 ss.2−10. See Competition Act 1998 s.17.
19 Esso Petroleum Co Ltd v Harper’s Garage (Stourport) Ltd [1968] A.C. 269
HL.
20 Restrictive Trade Practices Act 1976.
26 Hoffmann-La Roche & Co v Secretary of State for Trade and Industry [1975]
32 See Ch.18.
Science” (Autumn 1970) Moorgate and Wall Street; Howe, “Antitrust Policy:
Rules or Discretionary Intervention” (Spring 1971) Moorgate and Wall Street;
Crew and Rowley, “Antitrust Policy: The Application of Rules” (Autumn 1971)
Moorgate and Wall Street.
35 The 1969 and 1978 Merger Guidelines took a broad range of factors into
Secretary of State for Trade, Ex p. Anderson Strathclyde Plc [1983] 2 All E.R.
233 QBD.
38 Competition Act 1980.
Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1965); A. Hunter, Competition and the Law (London:
Allen & Unwin, 1966).
40 Fair Trading Act 1973 s.88.
Press, 1982), p.15. The validity of the traditional economic rationale for
regulating such forms of monopoly power has, however, been questioned,
pp.16−19.
54 Ogus, Regulation, Legal Form and Economic Theory (1994), p.33.
59 Ogus, Regulation, Legal Form and Economic Theory (1994), Ch.4; Morgan
and Yeung, An Introduction to Law and Regulation, Text and Materials (2007),
Ch.2.
60 J. Buchanan and G. Tullock, The Calculus of Consent (Ann Arbor: University
of Michigan Press, 1962); J. Buchanan, The Limits of Liberty: Between Anarchy
and Leviathan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1975); J. Buchanan,
Freedom in Constitutional Contract (College Station: Texas A & M, 1978); J.
Buchanan, Liberty, Market and State: Political Economy in the 1980s (Brighton:
Wheatsheaf Books, 1986); G. Brennan and J. Buchnanan, The Reason of Rules
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985); I. McLean, Public Choice: An
Introduction (Oxford: Blackwell, 1987); D. Mueller, Public Choice (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1979).
61 Although they fully accepted that individuals would be likely to operate
through pressure groups because of the gains in terms of power which
individuals could attain by so grouping together, Buchanan and Tullock, The
Calculus of Consent (1962), pp.286−287.
62 Buchanan and Tullock, The Calculus of Consent (1962), pp.32, 122−124,
125−130 and 209.
63 G. Stigler, “The Theory of Economic Regulation” (1971) 2 Bell Jnl. Econ. 3;
Liberty, Market and State: Political Economy in the 1980s (1986), Chs 12, 13,
15, 22 and 23; Buchanan, The Limits of Liberty: Between Anarchy and Leviathan
(1975).
65 M. Kelman, “On Democracy Bashing: A Skeptical Look at the Theoretical
and Empirical Practice of the Public Choice Movement” (1988) 74 Virg. L. Rev.
199, 206.
66 P. Craig, Public Law and Democracy in the United Kingdom and the United
January 2021].
76 Please see https://www.gov.uk/government/organisations/office-for-product-
82 https://www.gov.uk/government/collections/impact-assessments-guidance-for-
87 See Ch.15.
pp.235−236.
90 T. Prosser, Law and the Regulators (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997),
Ch.1.
91 Prosser, Law and the Regulators (1997), pp.30−31.
Sherman Antitrust Act (New York Random House, 1965), pp.28−29. The court
in Darcy v Allen did, however, take note of the potential for monopoly power to
lead to price increases.
97 Allnutt v Inglis (1810) 12 East 527 KBD.
98 Allnutt (1810) 12 East 527 at 538−539. See also, Bolt v Stennett (1800) 8 T.R.
606 KBD.
99 Corporation of Stamford v Pawlett (1830) 1 C. & J. 57 at 400.
100 See also, Gard v Callard (1817) 6 M. & S. 69; Wright v Bruister (1832) 4 B.
& Ald. 116; Attorney General v Horner (1912) 107 L.T. 547; Duke of Newcastle
v Worksop UDC [1902] 2 Ch. 145 at 161; Nyali Ltd v Attorney General [1955] 1
All E.R. 646 CA at 651; [1956] 2 All E.R. 689 at 694; B. McAllister, “Lord Hale
and Business Affected with a Public Interest” (1929–30) 43 Harv. L. Rev. 759;
P. Craig, “Constitutions, Property and Regulation” [1991] P.L. 538.
101 Harris v Packwood (1810) 3 Taunt 264; Thompson v Lacy (1820) 3 B. &
Ald. 283 KBD; Ashmole v Wainwright (1842) 2 Q.B. 837 QBD at 845; Peek v
North Staffs Ry Co (1863) 10 H.L.C. 473; Great Western Railway Co v Sutton
(1869−70) L.R. 4 HL 226 at 237−238.
102 N. Arterburn, “The Origin and First Test of Public Callings” (1926−27) 75
Univ. of Penn L. Rev. 411, 421.
103 See Ch.2.
106 The common law insistence upon the reasonableness of prices charged by
public utilities has been of particular importance in the USA, see W. McCurdy,
“The Power of a Public Utility to Fix Its Rates in the Absence of Regulatory
Legislation” (1924−25) 38 Harv. L Rev. 202; Smyth v Ames, 169 US 466 (1898);
Texas & Pacific Ry v Abilene Cotton Oil Co, 204 US 426 (1906). The common
law authorities were also of seminal importance in determining the
constitutionality of later attempts at statutory regulation of price, Munn v Illinois,
94 US 113 (1877); M. Finkelstein, “From Munn v Illinois to Tyson v Banton, A
Study in the Judicial Process” (1927) 27 Col. L. Rev. 769.
107 See Ch.2.
112 Arthurs, “Without the Law,” Administrative Justice and Legal Pluralism in
Nineteenth Century England (1985), p.126.
113 Regulation of Railways Act 1873.
114 Arthurs, “Without the Law,” Administrative Justice and Legal Pluralism in
Nineteenth Century England (1985), p.128.
115 Arthurs, “Without the Law,” Administrative Justice and Legal Pluralism in
Nineteenth Century England (1985), p.129.
116 See Ch.2.
121 This statutory privilege was terminated by the Oil and Gas (Enterprise) Act
1982.
122 Vickers and Yarrow, Privatization, An Economic Analysis (1988),
pp.256−257.
123 See Ch.4.
125 T. Daintith and M. Sah, “Privatisation and the Economic Neutrality of the
pp.270−271.
141 Vickers and Yarrow, Privatization, An Economic Analysis (1988), p.271.
143 The obligation not to show undue preference was contained in Gas Act 1986
s.9(2), but only applied to the supply of gas “to persons entitled to a supply”.
The effect of s.10(5) was that a public gas supplier was under no obligation as
such to supply gas to any premises in excess of 25,000 therms per year, which
effectively removed the force of s.9(2) from sales to major gas users such as
large industry. The only limit on this freedom was the general provisions of
competition law.
144 Tariff customers are, in essence, those within the market who receive less
than 25,000 therms per year, Gas Act 1986 s.14. Large industrial concerns are
therefore not included.
145 Vickers and Yarrow, Privatization, An Economic Analysis (1988), p.265.
192 Sir G. Borrie, “The Regulation of Public and Private Power” [1989] P.L. 552,
560−561.
193 This Act has been amended by the Utilities Act 2000 ss.90−96 in relation to
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
12–001 i. The initial chapters on judicial review deal with process rights:
whether an individual has a right to be heard before certain action
is taken and if so the content of that right. There are three
principal ways in which individuals can be affected by
governmental action: through primary legislation, rulemaking and
adjudication. Individuals are not accorded any formal rights to be
consulted before primary legislation is enacted, although the
government will often consult on proposed legislation.
Rulemaking connotes a generalised measure, which can take the
form of delegated legislation or administrative rules. The
common law rules concerning process rights do not apply to
rulemaking. The reasons for this, and the extent to which process
rights are protected through other means, are considered in Ch.15.
Adjudication connotes some form of individualised act addressed
to a particular person, or persons. The process rights that attach to
adjudication are considered in this chapter and the two which
follow.
ii. Process rights in relation to individualised decisions have
traditionally been based on natural justice, which encapsulates
two ideas: that the individual be given adequate notice of the
charge and an adequate hearing (audi alteram partem), and that
the adjudicator be unbiased (nemo judex in causa sua).1 The
former will be dealt with in this chapter and the next, and the
latter in that which follows.
iii. The audi alteram partem principle has a long lineage and
developed from various types of case. An early group of cases
was concerned with deprivation of offices,2 requiring notice and a
hearing prior to the deprivation. Another somewhat later group
involved the clergy: penalties or disciplinary measures to which
the clergy were subjected had to be preceded by notice and a
hearing.3 In the 19th century the audi alteram partem principle
was applied to a wide variety of bodies, private as well as public.
Clubs,4 associations5 and trade unions6 were included within its
ambit. The increase in the regulatory role of public authorities
provided a further opportunity for the generalised application of
the maxim.
iv. The generality of the requirement of a hearing was evident in
Cooper v Wandsworth Board of Works,7 where it was held that
demolition powers vested in the defendant Board were to be
subject to notice and hearing requirements. The court made clear
that the omission of positive words in the statute requiring a
hearing was not conclusive, since the justice of the common law
would supply the omission of the legislature.8 The generality and
flexibility of the audi alteram partem maxim, were brought out
once again by Lord Loreburn.9 He stated that the maxim applied
to “everyone who decides anything”, while recognising that the
manner in which a person’s case was heard did not necessarily
have to be the same as an ordinary trial. The breadth of the audi
alteram partem principle was, however, limited in the first half of
this century for reasons that will be explored below.
v. There are two rationales for natural justice. The instrumental
rationale emphasises the connection between the provision of
hearing rights and the correctness of the outcome on the
substance of the case. The non-instrumental rationale focuses on
the ways in which process rights protect human dignity.
vi. It is necessary in any legal system for there to be some criteria
through which to decide on whether natural justice is applicable.
In the UK these criteria have been fashioned largely by the courts
and require the existence of a right, interest or legitimate
expectation before natural justice is applicable. The common law
criteria have, however, been complemented by those drawn from
art.6 of the European Convention of Human Rights.
vii. It is also necessary for a legal system to decide on the content of
natural justice, assuming that it is applicable to a particular case.
This can vary significantly, from a very full set of process rights
that approximates to an ordinary trial, to something more modest.
This decision is made by the courts and is influenced by three
factors: the importance of the interest infringed; the value to the
claimant of the additional process right; and the cost of providing
the additional procedural safeguard.
viii. The applicability and content of natural justice has proven
especially problematic in relation to legislation dealing with
terrorism post-9/11. These problems are considered in the next
chapter.
ix. Natural justice is predicated on a model of process rights that
reflects that used in an ordinary court. The process rights are
modified in their application to administrative bodies, but this
does not alter the force of this point. Process rights fashioned in
this way are termed adjudicatory, which
captures the background model of court procedures that frames
natural justice. It is however important to recognise that this is not
the only type of process right. Non-adjudicatory process rights
may be more suitable for certain types of administrative decision-
making, and better attain the instrumental and non-instrumental
values that process rights are designed to serve. The
circumstances where this is so will be explored at the end of this
chapter.
A. Administrative v Judicial
12–004 In the 19th century the right to a hearing was applied in a number of
areas that were administrative. In so far as the term judicial was used it
was automatically implied whenever a decision was made that affected
a person’s rights in a broad sense.19 Despite this the courts began to
draw a dichotomy between administrative and judicial decisions, to
take a narrow view of what constituted a judicial or quasi-judicial
decision and to require this as a condition precedent for a right to a
hearing.
For example, in Errington20 it was argued that the minister was in
breach of natural justice by conferring with the local authority and
receiving further evidence after the close of a public inquiry. The
Court of Appeal found that there had been a breach, but the phrasing
of the judgment was nonetheless restrictive. Maugham LJ stated that if
the minister acted administratively natural justice would not apply, that
the minister was acting quasi-judicially, but only because the situation
was “triangular”, in that the minister was deciding a legal action
between the local authority and objectors.21 In cases where the legal
action had not yet been joined the applicant was less successful.22
C. Rights v Privileges
12–006 Closely allied to the previous reasons for the limitation of natural
justice was the distinction drawn between rights and privileges. In
Nakkuda Ali one reason the Privy Council denied the application of
natural justice was because the cancellation of a licence was
characterised as the withdrawal of a privilege and not the
determination of a right27; and in Parker28 the cab licence that was
withdrawn was said to be just a “permission”.
A. Ridge v Baldwin
12–008 While some cases limited the audi alteram partem principle,32 there
were nonetheless indications in England,33 Australia,34 Canada35 and
New Zealand36 of a less rigid application of the principle. However,
natural justice was at a low ebb prior to Ridge v Baldwin.37 Their
Lordships held that a chief constable who could be dismissed only for
cause was entitled to notice of the charge and an opportunity to be
heard before being dismissed. The importance of the case lies in the
general discussion of the principles of natural justice, especially by
Lord Reid. His Lordship reviewed the 19th-century case law that
showed the broad application of natural justice, and gave three reasons
why the law had become confused.
The first was that natural justice could have only a limited
application in the context of the wider duties or discretion imposed
upon a minister, but the courts had applied these limits to areas where
the constraints were unnecessary.38 The second reason was that the
principle had received only limited application during the war, but this
should not affect the ambit of natural justice now. The third was the
confusion between rights and remedies in the requirement of a
superadded duty to act judicially for certiorari, and the way that this
had stilted the development of natural justice.39
For Lord Reid, the judicial element in natural justice should be
inferred from the nature of the power and its effect on the individual.
Lord Morris of Borth-y-Gest also based his judgment on the 19th-
century jurisprudence.40 For Lord Hodson41 the absence of a legal
action between the parties was not decisive, nor was the
characterisation of the act as judicial, administrative or executive.42
Their Lordships therefore revived the principles of natural justice
in two connected ways. They rediscovered the older jurisprudence,
which had applied
the principle to a broad spectrum of interests and a wide variety of
decision-makers. They disapproved 20th-century impediments: the
requirements of a formal action between parties, and a superadded
duty to act judicially were said to be false constraints. However, there
was little positive guidance as to when natural justice should apply.
The closest to any general formulation is that the applicability of
natural justice was dependent on the nature of the power and its effect
upon the individual. In the years following Ridge the courts were
therefore faced with many cases concerned not just with the content of
natural justice, but with the criterion for its applicability.
A. Rights
12–013 The term right in this context clearly covers instances in which the
challenged action affects a recognised proprietary or personal right of
the applicant. Thus, if, for example, the public body’s action impinges
upon a person’s real property, process rights will be required for the
action to be legal.62 This has been equally the case in respect of
personal property, and process rights will be applicable
where a job is regarded as an office and a species of personal
property.63 Some form of hearing right will also be demanded if the
action affects the personal liberty of the individual, more particularly if
that action entails some actual loss of liberty.64 Thus, in the post-Ridge
era the courts have insisted that procedural fairness applies to
disciplinary actions that impact on liberty interests, or adversely affect
the individual.65
B. Interests
12–014 The term interest is looser than that of right, and has been used as the
basis for some type of hearing even where the individual would not be
regarded in law as having any substantive entitlement or right.66 Many
cases concerning natural justice in the context of clubs, unions and
trade associations provide examples of the courts demanding that
process rights be accorded where the applicant has an interest as such,
rather than any substantive right.67 The application of natural justice or
fairness in the context of, for example, licensing and aliens is also
based on possession of an interest as opposed to a right stricto sensu.68
The willingness to accept that interests that fall short of rights
stricto sensu can trigger the applicability of procedural protection is
correct in principle. The technical distinction between rights and
privileges should not be determinative of the applicability of
procedural protection. Many interests may be extremely important to
an individual even though they would not warrant the label “right” or
“Hohfeldian right”.69 The absence of a substantive right to a particular
benefit should not lead to the conclusion that procedural rights are
inapplicable, although it might impact on the content of the procedural
rights. The absence of substantive protection may well render
procedural rights even more important, a point made cogently by Lord
Wilberforce in Malloch.70 Thus, the mere fact that, for example, an
office is held at pleasure should not lead to the denial of
procedural protection, more especially because the dividing line
between officers who can be dismissed for cause71 and those who can
be dismissed at pleasure can be hard to draw,72 as can the line between
an office and a pure master–servant relationship.73
C. Legitimate Expectation
12–015 The concept of legitimate expectations adds to those of right and
interest in three different ways.74
First, the court may decide that the interest, although not presently
held, is important enough that an applicant should not be refused it
without having some procedural rights. The courts protect future
interests. They make a normative judgment that a consequence of
applying for a substantive interest is that some procedural protection is
warranted. Thus, in McInnes75 Megarry VC held that there was a class
of case in which the applicant could be said to have a legitimate
expectation that an interest would be granted. This was where the
applicant was a licence holder who was seeking the renewal of a
licence, or where a person was already elected to a position and was
seeking confirmation of the appointment from a different body.
Precisely which future interests should be deserving of this procedural
protection may be contestable.76
A second way in which the concept of legitimate expectation adds
to the ideas of right and interest is where there is a clear and
unequivocal representation.77 This can be important in two types of
case.
On the one hand, there are cases in which the representation
provides the foundation for the procedural rights, and it is unlikely that
the substantive interest
would entitle the applicant to natural justice or fairness in the absence
of the representation. The conduct of the public body, through its
representation, provides the foundation for the procedural protection.
In AG of Hong Kong v Ng Yuen Shiu78 it was held that although the
rules of natural justice or fairness might not generally be applicable to
an alien who had entered the territory illegally, a person could claim
some elements of a fair hearing if there was a legitimate expectation of
being accorded such a hearing. Such an expectation could arise if, as
was the case, the government had announced that illegal immigrants
would be interviewed with each case being treated on its merits, albeit
there being no guarantee that such immigrants would be allowed to
remain in the territory. The point is well captured by Elias, who states
that79:
“[I]t was only the legitimate expectation arising from the assurance given by the Government
that enabled the court to intervene on behalf of the illegal immigrant: his status as an illegal
immigrant would not of itself have created any entitlement to a hearing.”
On the other hand, the representation that gives rise to the legitimate
expectation may augment the applicant’s procedural rights, as
exemplified by the Liverpool Taxi case.80 The council had a policy of
limiting the number of licensed taxis to 300. The applicants were
repeatedly assured that the figure would not be increased without their
being consulted, but the council did so nonetheless. It is unclear
whether the court believed that the applicants would have had any
procedural rights in the absence of the initial council assurances.81 The
content of the applicants’ procedural rights were however enhanced by
the representations. Thus, Lord Denning MR stated that the council
ought not to depart from the undertaking, “except after the most
serious consideration and hearing what the other party has to say” and
then only if “they are satisfied that the overriding public interest
requires it”.82 Roskill LJ held that the council could not resile from
their undertaking, “without notice to and representations from the
applicants”, and only after “due and proper consideration of the
representations of all those interested”.83
The third way in which legitimate expectations can arise is closely
related to, but distinct from, the second. This is where the defendant
institution has established criteria for the application of policy in a
certain area, an applicant has relied on these criteria, and the defendant
then seeks to apply different criteria. In
Khan84 the applicant sought to adopt his brother’s child from Pakistan.
The Home Office, while stating that there was no formal provision in
the immigration rules, provided a circular stating the criteria used by
the Home Secretary. The applicant sought entry clearance for the child
based on these criteria, but was refused, and the Home Office
indicated that different tests had been used. The court found for the
applicant. Parker LJ held that while there was no specific undertaking
in this case, the principle from Liverpool Taxi was nonetheless
applicable. Thus, if the Home Secretary stipulated certain general
entry conditions he should not be allowed to depart from them
“without affording interested persons a hearing and then only if the
overriding public interest demands it”.85 A new policy could be
implemented, but the recipient of the letter that set out the previous
policy must be given the opportunity to argue that the “old” policy be
applied to the particular case.
A. Balancing: Factors
12–020 The courts take account of a wide variety of factors within this
balancing test. These include the nature of the individual’s interest; the
type of decision challenged; whether it was final or preliminary; the
type of subject-matter; how far it was necessary to supplement
statutory procedures; and the cost of imposing further procedural
requirements. In more general terms, the result is arrived at after
balancing three types of factor: the individual’s interest; the benefits to
be derived from added procedural safeguards; and the costs to the
administration, both direct and indirect, of complying with these
procedural safeguards.
The more important the individual interest, the greater the
procedural protection. Thus, in Wilson118 the court was concerned with
whether the applicant who was given a discretionary life sentence
should be told the reasons why the Parole Board had refused to
recommend his release on licence. In deciding that the applicant
should be entitled to this information the court was strongly influenced
by the fact that the liberty of the subject was involved.119 This justified
departure from previous authorities, which had held that this
information did not have to be disclosed.
The balancing process is exemplified by Pergamon Press.120
Inspectors had been appointed to investigate two companies under the
control of Robert Maxwell. The directors were unwilling to respond to
questions unless given assurances, and on condition that a judicial type
inquiry was conducted. When the inspectors refused to give all the
detailed assurances the directors claimed a breach of natural justice.
The Court of Appeal found for the inspectors. Although they were
under a duty to act fairly, they had not broken this duty. While the
potentially serious effect of the report required some procedural
protection, this
was weighed against the interest of the administration in ensuring
confidentiality, the need for speed and the preliminary nature of the
proceedings.
12–021 The GCHQ121 case exemplifies judicial “balancing” in a very different
context. Their Lordships decided that past practice in the operation of
GCHQ generated a legitimate expectation that those who worked there
would be consulted before important changes were made in the terms
of their employment. The government decision that workers at GCHQ
could no longer belong to national trade unions, which was reached
without prior consultation, was prima facie in breach of natural justice.
Considerations of national security were, however, held to outweigh
those of procedural fairness. The court accepted the view of the
executive that to give prior notice of their intentions would run the risk
of actions that would disrupt the intelligence services. Whether this
approach to considerations of national security was too deferential will
be considered below.
The way in which the nature of the affected interest can impact on
the procedural rights accorded is evident in licensing cases. Thus in
McInnes,122 Megarry VC held that in the case of forfeiture the
individual was entitled to an unbiased tribunal, notice and a hearing,
whereas in the case of an application less was required. Since nothing
had been taken away the duty in such a case was to reach an honest
conclusion without bias and not in pursuance of a capricious policy.
Renewal of a licence fell into an intermediate category. Here, the
individual might have a legitimate expectation that the licence would
be renewed. These cases were, said Megarry VC, to be treated as
closer to forfeiture than to those of initial application.
These distinctions should not however be allowed to become over-
rigid. There may well be areas where the interest at stake in an
application for a licence is considerably more important than that
involved in a forfeiture or failure to renew in a different context.
Moreover, the duty owed to the applicant may well be higher in certain
areas than that indicated by Megarry VC. This was recognised in
Quark Fishing,123 where it was accepted that elements of procedural
fairness could be required even in application cases, especially where
the licence constituted a valuable commodity. The public body could
be required to afford the applicant the opportunity to make
representations, and to provide information on which the decision was
founded.
B. Balancing: Limits
12–022 While the courts generally undertake balancing to determine the
content of procedural rights in a particular case, the reality is that core
process rights, such as notice and some form of hearing, are applicable
in all cases. The balancing therefore normally operates outside this
core, relating to matters such as whether
the claimant has an oral or written hearing, whether legal
representation is always available, and whether there can be cross-
examination, etc.
Thus, as Lord Denning stated, if “the right to be heard is to be a
real right which is worth anything, it must carry with it a right in the
accused man to know the case which is made against him”.124 This
was forcefully reaffirmed in Anufrijeva.125 Lord Steyn held that notice
of a decision was essential to enable the person affected to be able to
challenge it. It was an “application of the right of access to justice”,
which was a “fundamental and constitutional principle of our legal
system”.126 The rule of law required that a constitutional state should
accord individuals the right to know of a decision before their rights
could be affected.
The heightened security concerns of the post-9/11 world posed
serious challenges for liberal governments. The implications for
process rights were thrown into sharp relief by legislation to combat
terrorism that severely curtailed process rights. This will be examined
in more detail below.127 Suffice it to say for the present that the
existence of a core minimum of process rights was confirmed by the
House of Lords in AF, at least for cases involving deprivation of
liberty.128
The appellants were subject to non-derogating control orders,
which were made pursuant to the Prevention of Terrorism Act 2005 s.2
(PTA), on the ground that the secretary of state had reasonable
grounds for suspecting that the appellant was, or had been, involved in
terrorism-related activity, and that he considered it necessary to make
such an order to protect the public from a risk of terrorism. The issue
before the House of Lords was whether the procedure for the making
of a control order complied with art.6 ECHR. The appellants argued
that art.6 was violated because the judge who made the order relied on
material in closed hearing that was not disclosed.
Lord Phillips gave the leading judgment. The House of Lords held
that there was a core minimum of procedural justice and that this could
not be overridden by arguments that the procedural rights would not
have made any difference. Their Lordships reached this conclusion
from case law and principle, with the consequence that the relevant
provisions of the PTA 2005 were read down so as to be compatible
with Convention rights. The person subject to the control order must
be given sufficient information so as to allow effective instructions to
be given in relation to the allegations. Provided that this requirement
was satisfied there could be a fair trial notwithstanding that the person
subject to the control order was not provided with the detail or sources
of the evidence forming the basis of the allegations. Where, however,
the open material consisted purely of general assertions and the case
against the person was based solely, or to a
decisive degree, on closed materials the requirements of a fair trial
would not be satisfied, however cogent the case based on the closed
materials might be.129
The precise boundaries of the ruling in AF are, however, not
entirely certain. It is clear from Tariq,130 discussed in the next chapter,
that providing the claimant with the gist of the case against him, what
has become known as gisting, is not required in a case of security
vetting. It seems clear also from Tariq that gisting will not be
mandatory except where the liberty of the subject is at stake, provided
that the closed material procedure contains appropriate procedural
safeguards. It nonetheless remains unclear precisely what constitutes
the liberty of the subject for these purposes. It is moreover also not
entirely clear whether the gisting requirement is only applicable in
cases where art.6 ECHR applies.
C. Balancing: Causation
12–023 An important issue is whether the applicability of procedural
protection can be affected by the likelihood that the hearing would
make a difference to the result in the case. There are a number of
authorities holding that this should be irrelevant.131 This is surely
correct. The path of the law is, as Megarry J stated,132 strewn with
examples of unanswerable charges that were completely answered. A
reviewing court is, moreover, not in a good position to calculate
whether a hearing would have made a difference.133 In Evans134 the
House of Lords explicitly disapproved of statements made in the Court
of Appeal that a court could exercise a general power to consider
whether the decision reached was fair and reasonable. It stated that
where review was based upon breach of natural justice, the court
should only be concerned with the manner in which the decision was
reached, and not with the correctness of the decision itself.135 Some
courts have, however, looked to the causal link between the existence
of a hearing and the final outcome.
First, a court may regard the likelihood of the hearing making a
difference as a reason for denying the existence of natural justice or
fairness. In Cinnamond136 a number of minicab drivers had been
repeatedly prosecuted by the BAA for
touting for passengers at the airport. The BAA prohibited the drivers
from entering the airport except as bona fide passengers. The drivers
sought a declaration that the ban was in breach of natural justice, since
they had not been given an opportunity to make representations before
it was imposed. Lord Denning MR stated that where there was no
legitimate expectation of being heard there was no requirement for a
hearing. Because the drivers had a long record of bad behaviour and
convictions no such expectations were held to exist.
Secondly, the likelihood of the hearing making a difference may
influence the discretionary power to grant a remedy. In Glynn137 the
court found that there had been a breach of natural justice by the
failure to give a hearing to a student who had been disciplined. A
remedy was refused, the court holding that nothing the student could
have said could have affected the decision reached.
Where review is based on procedural grounds the applicability of
such protection should not be placed in jeopardy by the court second-
guessing whether a hearing would have made a difference. The weight
of authority is firmly against such an approach, and arguments of
principle firmly support the predominant approach of the case law.
Natural justice is predicated not merely on the chance that the outcome
would have been different, but also on the non-
instrumental/dignitarian argument that provision of a hearing is part of
what it means to treat someone as a person, as acknowledged by the
Supreme Court in cases such as Osborn138 and Pathan.139 The dangers
of taking causation into account are forcefully revealed by Sedley
LJ140:
“[I]t is in my respectful view seductively easy to conclude that there can be no answer to a
case of which you have only heard one side. There can be few practising lawyers who have
not had the experience of resuming their seat in a state of hubristic satisfaction, having called
a respectable witness to give apparently cast-iron evidence, only to see it reduced to
wreckage by ten minutes of well-informed cross-examination or convincingly explained
away by the other side’s testimony. Some have appeared in cases in which everybody was
sure of the defendant’s guilt, only for fresh evidence to emerge which makes it clear that
they were wrong. As Mark Twain said, the difference between reality and fiction is that
fiction has to be credible. In a system which recruits its judges from practitioners, judges
need to carry this kind of sobering experience to the bench. It reminds them that you cannot
be sure of anything until all the evidence has been heard, and that even then you may be
wrong. It may be, for these reasons, that the answer to Baroness Hale’s question—what
difference might disclosure have made?—is that you can never know.”
The legal position has regrettably been altered by the Criminal Justice
and Courts Act 2015 Pt 4, hereafter the CJCA, which imposes
substantive constraints on courts and the Upper Tribunal when
exercising judicial review. The CJCA s.84 amends the Senior Courts
Act 1981 s.31, the latter statute containing the principal framework for
judicial review in primary legislation. It does so by limiting the
circumstances in which permission to proceed and the award of relief
at the substantive hearing can be given.
In deciding whether to grant leave/permission the High Court is
now empowered to consider of its own motion whether the outcome
for the applicant would have been substantially different if the conduct
complained of had not occurred, and it must consider that question if
the defendant asks it to do so.141 If it appears to the High Court to be
highly likely that the outcome would not have been substantially
different, the court must refuse to grant leave,142 subject to the caveat
that the court can disregard the preceding requirement if it considers
that it is appropriate to do so for reasons of exceptional public interest,
but must certify that it is making use of this proviso.143 There are
analogous conditions limiting the award of relief if the case proceeds
to the substantive hearing, the court being instructed to refuse relief
and/or a monetary award if it appears to be highly likely that the
outcome for the applicant would not have been substantially different
if the conduct complained of had not occurred, subject to the proviso
concerning exceptional public interest.144 The same provisions are
rendered applicable to the Upper Tribunal when it exercises its judicial
review powers.145 It remains to be seen how these provisions are
interpreted, but they are regrettable for the reasons given above.
D. Balancing: Execution
12–024 Balancing necessitates not only identification of the individual’s
interest, but also some judgment about how much we value it, or the
weight which we accord to it. Thus to take some position, as Megarry
VC did in McInnes,146 as to whether the renewal of a licence is a
“higher” interest than an initial application, is not to engage in rigid
conceptualism, but is rather a necessary step in reaching any decision.
Provided that we do not assume that all renewal cases warrant more
protection than all initial application cases, irrespective of the nature of
the subject-matter, then such ranking is necessary and helpful. It
should also be acknowledged that valuation of the nature of the
interest and the other elements in the balancing process, the social
benefits and costs of the procedural safeguards, may be problematic.
This is not simply a “mathematical” calculus.147
We should not moreover conclude that all judicial balancing is
necessarily premised on the same assumptions. The premises which
underpin an essentially law and economics approach to natural justice
or fairness, may be far removed
from those that underlie a more rights-based approach to process
considerations.148 A law and economics approach to judicial balancing
is apparent in the following extract from Posner149:
“[W]hile most lawyers consider that the question whether there is a right to a trial-type
hearing in various administrative contexts, such as the exclusion of aliens…turns on some
irreducible concept of ‘fairness’, the economic approach enables the question to be broken
down into objectively analysable, although not simple, inquiries. We begin by asking, what
is the cost of withholding a trial-type hearing in a particular type of case? This inquiry has
two branches: first, how is the probability of an error likely to be affected by a trial-type
hearing? … Second, what is the cost of an error if one occurs? … Having established the
costs of error, we then inquire into the costs of the measures—a trial-type hearing or
whatever—that would reduce the error costs. If those direct costs are low … then adoption
can be expected to reduce the sum of error and direct costs and thus increase efficiency.”
A. Notice
12–027 Notice is central to natural justice. This was recognised by Lord
Denning who said that if the right to be heard is to be a real right
which is worth anything, “it must carry with it a right in the accused
man to know the case which is made against him”.172
Thus, it is contrary to natural justice to inform an individual of
only one complaint if there are two,173 or to find the person guilty of a
different offence from the one that she was charged with.174 Similarly,
it was held to be contrary to natural justice to confirm an order on facts
that the individual had no opportunity to show to be erroneous.175 The
right to notice extends also to giving the individual a reasonable
amount of time in which to prepare the case.176
The importance of the right to notice was reaffirmed in
Anufrijeva.177 The claimant was an asylum seeker, whose income
support was terminated after the Home Secretary rejected her asylum
application. This determination was not, however, communicated to
the claimant. Lord Steyn held that notice of a decision was essential in
order to enable the person affected to be able to challenge it. It was an
“application of the right of access to justice”, which was a
“fundamental and constitutional principle of our legal system”.178 The
rule of law required that a constitutional state should accord to
individuals the right to know of a decision before their rights could be
affected:
“The antithesis of such a state was described by Kafka: a state where the rights of individuals
are overridden by hole in the corner decisions or knocks on doors in the early hours”.179
B. Consultation
12–028 There is no general duty to consult imposed either by common law or
statute. When consultation is specified by statute this may be a
mandatory requirement or it may only be directory. Where the statute
states that consultation “shall” take place the former construction is
more common.189 The legislation will determine who must be
consulted. In some areas there will be a general discretion to consult
such interests as appear to be appropriate. In other areas the statute
may be more explicit as to which interests should be consulted.190
Where a statutory duty to consult exists it requires the authority to
supply sufficient information to those being consulted to enable them
to tender advice, and a sufficient opportunity to tender that advice
before the mind of the authority becomes unduly fixed.191 Where the
obligation to consult is mandatory, failure to comply with the duty will
result in the order subsequently made being held void. The courts’
approach is evident in Gunning192:
“First, that consultation must be at a time when proposals are still at a formative stage.
Secondly, that the proposer must give sufficient reasons for any proposal to permit
intelligent consideration and response. Thirdly, that adequate time must be given for
consideration and response and finally, fourthly, that the product of the consultation must be
conscientiously taken into account in finalising statutory proposals.”
C. The Hearing
12–030 While hearings will normally be oral, there is no fixed rule that this
must be so.210 An oral hearing will, however, be required where this is
necessary for the applicant to be able to present his case effectively to
the tribunal or body making the decision, more especially when a
liberty interest is at stake.211 Thus in Osborn the Supreme Court held
that the parole board had to hold an oral hearing whenever fairness to
the prisoner so required, in order to comply with common law
standards of procedural fairness and to act compatibly with art.5(4)
when determining an application for release or transfer to open
conditions.212
The courts will, moreover, avoid construing a statute so as to
dispense with a hearing completely. A statute empowering a public
body to dispense with a hearing will, for example, be interpreted to
allow oral hearings to be omitted, and courts do not look kindly on
interference with the right to a hearing through retrospective
legislation.213 There are some cases that appear to hold that natural
justice may not require a hearing.214 These statements must be treated
with great reserve. While the type of hearing may differ within
different areas, and while it might vary depending upon, for example,
the stage the proceedings have reached, or the nature of the interest
being asserted, to go further than this would be contrary to principle.
To assert that, quite apart from the above factors, natural justice could
be satisfied even though there was nothing in the nature of a hearing at
all would be to denude the concept of all content.215
12–031 It is axiomatic that the hearing should accord the affected party the
opportunity to respond to allegations made against him,216 the
corollary being that the evidence against him should be made known
to the affected party.217 Courts will therefore lean strongly against
allowing a tribunal to decide a matter without giving the individual a
chance to see the opposing case and have his own considered,218
although the difficulties created in this respect by the procedures in the
anti-terror legislation will be considered below.219 There may also be a
breach of natural justice where the tribunal referred in its decision to
an authority that the parties did not have the opportunity to address,
provided that the authority was central to the decision and that a
material injustice resulted.220
The application of these basic precepts can however be
contentious, as is evident from Roberts.221 The claimant challenged
the decision of the Parole Board that certain sensitive material placed
before it by the Home Office should be withheld from the claimant and
his solicitor, and that it should only be disclosed to a specially
appointed advocate, who would represent the claimant at a closed
hearing of the Parole Board. The case provoked sharp division of
opinion in the House of Lords. The majority held that this procedure
was prima facie compatible with natural justice, and within the powers
of the Parole Board. Lord Bingham and Lord Steyn dissented. They
held that the procedure was incompatible with the principle that the
affected party should have the opportunity to respond to allegations
made against him, the corollary being that the evidence should be
made known to the affected party.222 They held moreover that the
Parole Board had no power to adopt such a procedure, and that the
principle of legality meant that statutes should be interpreted as not
interfering with fundamental rights, in this context the right to a fair
hearing.223
An individual can waive the right to a hearing,224 but this option
will not always be open. Thus, in Hanson225 it was held that where the
matter was one in which there was a wider public interest it might not
be possible for one party to withdraw without the assent of the other
once the proceedings had begun. Even if both parties agreed the issue
might not be withdrawn if the tribunal objected.
However, where an individual has lost the opportunity to present the
case through the fault of her own advisers this could not constitute a
breach of natural justice.226
D. Rules of Evidence
12–032 The strict rules of evidence do not have to be followed.227 Diplock LJ
set out the following general principles: the tribunal is not restricted to
evidence acceptable in a court of law; provided that it has some
probative value the court will not reassess its weight. Where there is an
oral hearing, written evidence submitted by the applicant must be
considered, but the tribunal may take account of any evidence228 of
probative value from another source, provided that the applicant is
informed and allowed to comment on it. An applicant must also be
allowed to address argument on the whole of the case,229 but there is
no right to cross examine in all cases.230
These general principles are, however, subject to the following
reservation. The overriding obligation is to provide the applicant with
a fair hearing and a fair opportunity to controvert the charge.231 This
may in certain cases require not only that the applicant be informed of
the evidence, but that the individual should be given a sufficient
opportunity to deal with it,232 more especially when a public
consultation has taken place.233 This may involve the cross-
examination of the witnesses whose evidence is before the hearing
authority in the form of hearsay.234 Where there are insuperable
difficulties in arranging for that evidence to be questioned it should not
be admitted in evidence, or the hearing authority should exclude it
from their consideration.
E. Representation
12–033 The legal position as to whether an individual can choose a
representative, including a lawyer, can be summarised as follows.235
First, there appears to be no absolute right to such
representation.236 Legal representation may be counterproductive,
unnecessary or overly cumbersome in cases where a matter must be
speedily resolved, and hence the courts have resisted claims that there
should be a right to such representation. This must, however, now be
seen in the light of the decision in Ezeh,237 where the ECtHR held that
a person charged with a criminal offence who does not wish to defend
himself in person must be able to have recourse to legal assistance of
his own choosing, and that the denial of legal representation
constituted a breach of the second limb of art.6(3)(c) of the
Convention.
Secondly, the courts have, however, emphasised that tribunals
possess discretion as to whether to allow such representation, and are
willing to review the manner in which the discretion is exercised. A
tribunal controls its own procedure, and this provides the foundation
from which it can permit such representation.238 Consideration of the
statutory scheme within a particular area may convince the court that
representation by a lawyer should on construction be excluded.239
However, the courts are in general reluctant to exclude the possibility
of such legal representation in a particular area, and if a tribunal did
this it might be regarded as a fetter on discretion.240 In exercising their
discretion whether to permit such representation, tribunals should take
the following factors into account241: the seriousness of the charge or
penalty; whether any points of law are likely to arise; the capacity of a
person to present their own case; procedural difficulties; the need for
speed in reaching a decision; and the need for fairness as between the
individual and the officers concerned.
Thirdly, there does not appear to be any general right to attend a
hearing as the friend or adviser of the individual directly concerned.
Whether such a right exists depends on the nature of the tribunal in
question. Any such tribunal does, however, have discretion to allow
the individual to be assisted by such an adviser.242
F. Reasons
12–036 The general relevance of the ECHR for the content of procedural
norms will be considered below. Article 6 ECHR has implications for
the provision of reasons where there are civil rights and obligations.
While there is no express requirement to give reasons, the ECtHR
regards this as implicit in the obligation to provide a fair hearing.
Reasons do not have to be given on every single point, but they must
be sufficient to enable a party to understand the essence of the decision
to be able to exercise appeal rights.257 The Privy Council recognised in
Stefan258 that the advent of the HRA, which brought art.6 into
domestic law, would therefore require the courts to pay close attention
to the giving of reasons in cases involving civil rights and obligations.
12–037 There is no general common law duty to give reasons,259 but there are
none the less a number of ways in which the common law has imposed
such a duty indirectly.
First, it can be argued that the absence of reasons renders any right
of appeal or review nugatory, or that it makes the exercise of that right
more difficult. This reasoning was originally developed in the context
of appeal as illustrated by Wrights’ Canadian Ropes.260 Wrights’
Canadian Ropes Ltd complained that the minister should have allowed
claims for expenses to be set off against tax. The Privy Council held
that although the minister was not bound to disclose his reasons, he
could not thereby render the company’s right of appeal nugatory. The
court could look at the facts, and if those were insufficient in law to
support the ministerial determination then the court would deem it
arbitrary. The same approach has been adopted in later cases.261
If this line of argument were applied to the courts’ powers of
review it would lead to a general right to a reasoned decision.262 There
are some indications of such a development. Doody263 was concerned
with life sentences for murder, and whether the secretary of state
should tell the prisoner the reasons why he was
deciding on a certain period of time for imprisonment. Lord Mustill
reiterated the orthodoxy that there was no general duty to provide
reasons. However, there was a duty to give reasons in this instance,
because the reasons would facilitate any judicial review challenge by
the prisoner, who might wish to argue that the secretary of state had
erred in departing from the sentence originally recommended by the
judges.
Secondly, the courts can indirectly impose a requirement to give
reasons by labelling the result reached in their absence as arbitrary.
This approach was adopted in Padfield,264 but the scope of this
exception to the general rule was limited by Lonrho.265 It was claimed
that the secretary of state should have referred a merger between AIT
(Lonrho’s rivals), and the House of Fraser to the Monopolies and
Mergers Commission. It was argued that in the absence of convincing
reasons for not having done so, the decision not to refer should be
regarded as irrational. Their Lordships disagreed. They held that if
there was no duty to provide reasons in a particular instance, then their
absence could not, of itself, provide support for the suggested
irrationality of the decision. The only significance of the absence of
reasons was that if all known facts appeared to point overwhelmingly
in favour of a decision other than that reached, then the decision-maker
could not complain if the court drew the inference that there was no
rational reason for the decision actually taken.
Thirdly, courts can indirectly inquire into the reasoning process by
examining the evidence the decision-maker used to arrive at the
jurisdictional findings. The court can then assess whether that evidence
justified the findings made.266
Fourthly, if a public body has created a legitimate expectation that
it will act in a certain manner then this may lead to the imposition of a
duty to provide reasons as to why it has departed from the course of
action which was expected of it.267
v. Reasons and the common law: direct link
12–038 The courts have also imposed a duty to provide reasons more directly,
by linking the provision of reasons to fairness itself. The court will
consider the nature of the decision-maker, the context in which it
operates and whether the provision of reasons is required on grounds
of fairness.
This was the approach in Cunningham.268 Lord Donaldson MR
reaffirmed previous orthodoxy that there was no general duty to
provide reasons. However, he imposed such a duty on the Civil
Service Appeal Board, which had given the applicant far less
compensation for unfair dismissal than he would have received under
the normal employment protection legislation. The duty was imposed
because the CSAB was held to be a judicial body performing functions
analogous to those of an industrial tribunal. The latter would have to
provide reasons, and fairness demanded that so too should the CSAB.
The same approach is evident in later cases.
Thus, in Wilson,269 Taylor LJ based his decision that the applicant
should be entitled to know the reasons why the Parole Board was not
recommending him for release, on the general ground of natural
justice. This method is also apparent in Doody.270 Lord Mustill noted
the recent tendency to greater transparency and openness in the
making of administrative decisions, and gave an alternative rationale
for his judgment to that considered above. His Lordship stated that the
statutory scheme should be operated as fairly as possible, which meant
that the refusal to give reasons must be fair. It was not so in the instant
case, because the prisoner had a real interest in understanding how
long might be the term of imprisonment and why this particular period
was imposed.
The general trend of the case law has been for the courts, while
accepting that there is no general duty to provide reasons, none the less
to demand them on the facts of the particular case,271 and to justify this
in the light of the reasoning in Cunningham, Wilson, Doody, and the
Dental Surgery case.272
12–039 Thus, in Matson273 the applicant complained that he had not been told
the reasons why the Court of Aldermen had not confirmed his election.
The Court of Appeal held that it must do so. It was influenced by the
fact that the applicant had been duly elected, that the Court of
Aldermen’s verdict was a matter of public record, and that it had made
suggestions during an interview with the applicant which indicated
that it felt that he was unsuited for the post, but without saying why. In
Hickey274 the Home Secretary had ordered substantial police inquiries
to decide whether to refer a case of a person who had been convicted
to the Court of Appeal. The court held that he must allow the affected
individuals to make effective representations concerning the material
revealed by his inquiries before deciding whether to make the referral.
In Stefan275 the Privy Council decided that the General Medical
Council was under a common law duty to provide reasons when
suspending a practitioner indefinitely, even though there was no
express or implied statutory duty to do so.
In Fayed276 the applicants were seeking naturalisation as British
citizens. Their application was refused without reasons, and s.44 of the
British Nationality Act 1981 expressly provided that reasons did not
have to be given. Lord Woolf MR held, however, that while reasons as
such did not have to be given, s.44 did not exclude the right to notice,
which was a separate aspect of natural justice. This right to notice was
then used as the conceptual foundation for an obligation to provide the
applicants with sufficient information in order for them to understand
the essence of what troubled the Home Secretary.
In some cases the court has denied a duty to give reasons. In the
Institute of Dental Surgery case277 the applicants sought judicial
review of the decision by the Higher Education Funding Council,
which rated the Institute for research purposes at a lower level than the
Institute believed was correct. The Institute challenged the rating
because reasons for the assessment were not provided. Sedley J
rejected the application, because it was a challenge to informed
academic judgment, and thus fairness alone would not require reasons
to be given.
Notwithstanding this decision on the facts, the judgment indicates
the progress the common law has made in this area. The judgment
accepted that reasons should be given either when the interest at stake
was so important that fairness demanded the provision of reasoned
explanation, or where the decision appeared aberrant. Sedley J also
held that failure to provide reasons led to the impugned decision being
a nullity.
12–040 Lord Bingham CJ in Murray278 distilled certain principles concerning
the duty to give reasons from earlier decisions. His Lordship stated
that there was at present no general duty to give reasons, and that the
public interest might outweigh the advantages of giving reasons in a
particular case. He held that certain factors militated against the giving
of reasons: it could place an undue burden on the decision-maker;
demand the articulation of inexpressible value judgments; and offer an
invitation to the captious to comb the reasons for grounds of challenge.
Lord Bingham recognised, however, that there was a perceptible trend
towards greater transparency in decision-making. He acknowledged
that there were significant factors in favour of giving reasons: it could
concentrate the mind of the decision-maker; demonstrate to the
recipient that this was so; show that the issues had been properly
addressed; and alert the individual to possible justiciable flaws in the
process.
Where a body had power to affect individuals a court would
therefore readily imply procedural safeguards in addition to any
stipulated in the relevant statute if they were necessary to ensure
fairness. If a just decision could not be given without the provision of
reasons then they should be provided, and so too where the decision
appeared to be aberrant. In deciding whether reasons should have been
given, the court would take into account the absence of any right of
appeal, and the role reasons can play in detecting the kind of error
which would entitle
the court to intervene by way of review. The fact that a tribunal was
carrying out a judicial function was a consideration in favour of the
giving of reasons, particularly where personal liberty was concerned.
The courts have made great strides in this area. The criteria in
Murray afford courts ample opportunity to justify the imposition of a
duty to give reasons should they so wish. It would none the less be
desirable to shift the focus still further. The general rule should be that
reasons should be given, subject to exceptions where warranted. The
courts are coming close to this proposition, as evident from the dictum
of Lord Clyde in Stefan. He stated that while there was no general duty
to give reasons there was a strong argument for the view that “what
were once seen as exceptions to a rule may now be becoming
examples of the norm, and the cases where reasons are not required
may be taking on the appearance of exceptions”.279 It would do much
to simplify and clarify matters if the legal rule could be expressed in
this way.
It may well be the case that the very concept of adjudication as applied
to disputes between private individuals has to be modified in its
application to litigation involving public bodies. This does not negate
the point being made by Fuller and MacDonald: it may still be the case
that a different decisional form is more appropriate in a particular
area.301 A brief example of this idea may be given.
10. CONCLUSION
12–047 The courts have not been idle since the landmark decision in Ridge v
Baldwin.308 While many of the subsequent developments are to be
welcomed, continuing analysis is required to determine whether the
content of the rules in general, and their application to particular areas,
is being pitched at the “right” level. There is, for example, a cogent
argument for the recognition of a general duty to provide reasons,
while improvements in the context of employment relationships and
aliens could be made. More thought should also be given to
understanding the general nature of the balancing process that operates
within fairness. The extent, to which this should be viewed as a
utilitarian calculus of some kind, or whether a more dignitarian
approach should be pursued, is of considerable importance.
The concluding comments thus far have been directed towards the
application and content of natural justice and fairness, seeing both of
these terms against an adjudicative framework. This is how they
operate at present. Procedures derived from a backdrop of adjudication
may not, however, be the most appropriate or effective in particular
areas. Other decisional forms, whether they be mediation or
managerial direction, may be better in certain contexts. The
recognition and development of other types of decision-making, with
the procedures necessarily consequent upon them, is one of the
important tasks for the administrative lawyer, just as important as the
workings of fairness within the traditional adjudicative context.
1 J. Mashaw, Due Process in the Administrative State (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1985); D. Galligan, Due Process and Fair Procedures
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996).
2 Bagg’s Case (1615) 11 Co. Rep. 93b; R. v Chancellor of the University of
Cambridge (1723) 1 Str. 557; Osgood v Nelson (1872) L.R. 5 HL 636; Fisher v
Jackson (1891) 2 Ch. 84.
3 Capel v Child (1832) 2 Cr. & J. 558; Bonaker v Evans (1850) 16 Q.B. 162; R. v
North, Ex p. Oakey [1927] 1 K.B. 491 CA.
4 Dawkins v Antrobus (1881) 17 Ch. D. 615; Fisher v Keane (1878) 11 Ch. D.
353.
5 Wood v Woad (1873−74) L.R. 9 Ex. 190; Lapointe v L’Association de
8 Cooper (1863) 14 C.B. (NS) 180 at 194; Hopkins v Smethwick Local Board of
Health (1890) 24 Q.B.D. 712; Bank Mellat v HM Treasury [2013] UKSC 39.
9 Board of Education v Rice [1911] A.C. 179 HL at 182.
in Pennock and Chapman (eds), Due Process (1977), Ch.4; Mashaw, Due
Process in the Administrative State (1985), Chs 4−7.
14 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Doody [1994] 1 A.C.
531 HL at 551.
15 R. (Osborn) v Parole Board [2014] A.C. 1115 SC at [68]–[72].
32 A further reason for the non-applicability of the rules of natural justice was
said to be if the decision-maker was acting in a disciplinary manner Ex p. Fry
[1954] 1 W.L.R. 730 at 733. See now Buckoke v Greater London Council [1971]
1 Ch. 655 at 669; R. v Board of Visitors of Hull Prison, Ex p. St. Germain [1979]
Q.B. 425 at 445, 455.
33 Hoggard v Worsbrough UDC [1962] 2 Q.B. 93.
Hewart CJ’s requirement of a superadded duty to act judicially which had been
developed in Church Assembly [1928] 1 K.B. 411 and disapproved also of
Nakkuda Ali [1951] A.C. 66 in so far as that case supported the requirement.
40 Ridge [1964] A.C. 40 at 120−121.
42 Lord Devlin based his judgment primarily upon the application of the police
regulations, Ridge [1964] A.C. 40 at 137−141. Lord Evershed dissented, at
82−100, and his judgment is considered in Ch.24.
43 Re HK [1967] 2 Q.B. 617 at 630.
Denning MR, “fairly”) at 402−403 (Sachs LJ, “natural justice”) at 407 (Buckley
LJ, “not a judicial function”).
47 McInnes [1978] 1 W.L.R. 1520 at 1530.
of Cambridge (1723) 1 Str. 557; Osgood (1872) L.R. 5, HL 636; Fisher (1891) 2
Ch. 84; Capel (1832) 2 Cr. & J. 558; Bonaker (1850) 16 Q.B. 162; Oakey [1927]
1 K.B. 491; Dawkins (1881) 17 Ch. D. 615; Fisher (1878) 11 Ch. D. 353; Wood
(1873−74) L.R. 9 Ex. 190; Lapointe [1906] A.C. 535; Cooper (1863) 14 C.B.
(NS) 180 at 194; and Hopkins (1890) 24 Q.B.D. 712.
51 See Ch.13.
52 The thesis holds up best in the context of statutory inquiries, where the nature
of the subject-matter did influence the courts in reaching the conclusion that it
was not suitable for fully adjudicative procedures, and in the unwillingness to
accord procedural rights in “legislative” contexts.
53 Rice [1911] A.C. 179 at 182, where Lord Loreburn LC openly acknowledged
the necessity for flexibility in the operation of the procedural safeguards; Russell
v Duke of Norfolk [1949] 1 All E.R. 109 CA at 118. See also the cases on notice,
hearing and representation, paras 12–031, 12–034, 12–037.
54 See paras 12–001, and 12–023 to 12–030, for further consideration of this
point.
55 The shift in terminology from natural justice to fairness does not, of itself,
demand any particular one of these meanings.
56 Rice [1911] A.C. 179 at 182.
Baker [1993] C.O.D. 138 QBD; R. (BAPIO Action Ltd) v Secretary of State for
the Home Department [2007] EWCA Civ 1139 at 43−46, affirmed on different
grounds [2008] 1 A.C. 1003. Compare R. v Liverpool Corp, Ex p. Liverpool Taxi
Fleet Operators’ Association [1972] 2 Q.B. 299 CA (Civ Div).
60 See Ch.15.
61 Schmidt v Secretary of State for Home Affairs [1969] 2 Ch. 149 CA (Civ Div).
76 Megarry VC in McInnes [1978] 1 W.L.R. 1520 held that even a pure applicant
would be entitled to a measure of procedural protection, in that the deciding
authority should reach its decision without bias and without pursuing a
capricious policy.
77 R. v Falmouth and Truro Port Health Authority, Ex p. South West Water Ltd
83 Liverpool Taxi Fleet [1972] 2 Q.B. 299 at 311. See also, R. v Secretary of
State for Health, Ex p. United States Tobacco International Ltd [1992] Q.B. 353
DC at 370; R. (Gates Hydraulics Ltd) v Secretary of State for Communities and
Local Government [2009] EWHC 2187 (Admin); R. (Niazi) v Secretary of State
for the Home Department [2008] EWCA Civ 755 at [29]−[31]; R. (Kelly) v
Hounslow LBC [2010] EWHC 1256 (Admin); R. (Save Britain’s Heritage) v
Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government [2019] 1 W.L.R.929
CA (Civ Div). Compare R. v Devon CC, Ex p. Baker [1993] C.O.D. 138 QBD.
84 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Asif Mahmood Khan
87 HRA s.6.
88 See Ch.20.
E.H.R.R. 380.
96 Feldbrugge (1986) 8 E.H.R.R. 425; Deumeland v Germany (1986) 8 E.H.R.R.
448; Salesi v Italy (1998) 26 E.H.R.R. 187; Mennitto v Italy (2002) 34 E.H.R.R.
1122.
97 Le Compte, van Leuven and de Meyere v Belgium (1982) 4 E.H.R.R. 1; H v
99 Van Dijk and van Hoof, Theory and Practice of the European Convention on
Human Rights (1998), p.405; Schabas, The European Convention on Human
Rights: A Commentary (2015), pp.274–275.
100 P. Craig, “The HRA, art.6 and Procedural Rights” [2003] P.L. 753.
103 Craig, “The HRA, art.6 and Procedural Rights” [2003] P.L. 753.
104 See also, R. (Primary Health Investment Properties Ltd) v Secretary of State
for Health [2009] EWHC 519 (Admin); R. (Wright) v Secretary of State for
Health [2009] 1 A.C. 739; R. (Khaled) v Secretary of State for Foreign and
Commonwealth Affairs [2011] EWCA Civ 350; R. (G) v X School Governors
[2011] UKSC 30; R. (Puri) v Bradford Teaching Hospitals NHS Foundation
Trust [2011] EWHC 970 (Admin); Mattu v University Hospitals of Coventry and
Warwickshire NHS Trust [2012] EWCA Civ 641.
105 R. (Hamid Ali Husain) v Asylum Support Adjudicator [2001] EWHC 852
(Admin).
106 Feldbrugge (1986) 8 E.H.R.R. 425; Deumeland (1986) 8 E.H.R.R. 448.
107 Runa Begum v Tower Hamlets LBC [2002] 2 All E.R. 668 at [23]−[24].
110 Poshteh v Kensington and Chelsea RLBC [2017] A.C. 624 SC.
112 See cases, Primary Health Investment Properties Ltd [2009] EWHC 519
(Admin); Wright [2009] 1 A.C. 739; Khaled [2011] EWCA Civ 350; G [2011]
UKSC 30; Puri [2011] EWHC 970 (Admin); Craig, “The HRA, art.6 and
Procedural Rights” [2003] P.L. 753.
113 Craig, “Perspectives on Process: Common Law, Statutory and Political”
119 See also, R. v Life Assurance and Unit Trust Regulatory Organisation Ltd, Ex
p. Ross [1993] 1 Q.B. 17; United States Tobacco International Ltd [1992] Q.B.
353 DC at 370.
120 Re Pergamon Press Ltd [1971] Ch. 388 CA (Civ Div); Wiseman [1971] A.C.
124 Kanda v Government of Malaya [1962] A.C. 322 at 337; Attorney General v
Ryan [1980] A.C. 718; Hadmor Productions Ltd v Hamilton [1982] 2 W.L.R.
322, HL; Al Rawi v Security Service (Justice and others intervening) [2011]
UKSC 34.
125 R. (Anufrijeva) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2004] 1 A.C.
604 HL.
126 Anufrijeva [2004] 1 A.C. 604 at [26].
128 Secretary of State for the Home Department v AF [2010] 2 A.C. 269 HL; AT
v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2012] EWCA Civ 42; Craig,
“Perspectives on Process: Common Law, Statutory and Political” [2010] P.L.
275; A. Kavanagh, “Special Advocates, Control Orders and the Right to a Fair
Trial” (2010) 73 M.L.R. 836.
129 AF [2010] 2 A.C. 269 at [59].
134 Chief Constable of North Wales Police v Evans [1982] 1 W.L.R. 1155 HL;
Brent LBC [1982] Q.B. 593.
135 Evans [1982] 1 W.L.R. 1155 at 1160−1161, 1174−1175. Compare Cheall v
146 McInnes [1978] 1 W.L.R. 1520; Judge Friendly, “Some Kind of Hearing”
154 Mashaw, Due Process in the Administrative State (1985), p.113. See also,
161 The case is Mathews v Eldridge, 424 US 319 (1976), in which the Supreme
Court of the United States held that the availability of procedural rights would
depend on the following factors: the interest of the individual; the risk of any
erroneous deprivation of that interest through the procedures actually used, and
the probable value of additional procedural safeguards; and the governmental
interest, including the costs imposed by the additional procedural requirement.
162 Mashaw, Due Process in the Administrative State (1985), Chs 4−7.
Galligan (eds), Law, Rights and the Welfare State (London: Croom Helm, 1986),
pp.139−141; Galligan, Due Process and Fair Procedures (1996), pp.104−107.
164 A. Adams and J. Prassl, “Systemic Unfairness, Access to Justice, and
172 Kanda [1962] A.C. 322 at 337; Ryan [1980] A.C. 718; Hamilton [1982] 2
W.L.R. 322.
173 Board of Trustees of the Maradana Mosque v Mahmud [1967] 1 A.C. 13 at
24−25.
174 Lau Liat Meng v Disciplinary Committee [1968] A.C. 391.
175 Fairmount Investments Ltd v Secretary of State for the Environment [1976] 1
W.L.R. 1255 HL at 1260, 1265−1266. See also, R. v Deputy Industrial Injuries
Commissioner, Ex p. Jones [1962] 2 Q.B. 677 DC at 685; Sabey & Co Ltd v
Secretary of State for the Environment [1978] 1 All E.R. 586 QBD; R. v
Secretary of State for the Environment, Ex p. Norwich City Council [1982] Q.B.
808 CA (Civ Div); Mahon v Air New Zealand Ltd [1984] A.C. 808; R. (X) v
Chief Constable of the West Midlands Police [2004] 2 All E.R. 1 QBD; R.
(London Reading College Ltd) v Secretary of State for the Home Department
[2010] EWHC 2561 (Admin).
176 Polemis [1974] 1 W.L.R. 1371 at 1375; R. v Grays Justices, Ex p. Graham
186 There is some indication that more would have to be disclosed to the
applicant if a charge was made against the person, or if the refusal constituted a
slur against the applicant or deprived the individual of a statutory right, McInnes
[1978] 1 W.L.R. 1520 at 1535.
187 R. (Children’s Rights Alliance for England) v Secretary of State for Justice
189 May v Beattie [1927] 2 K.B. 353; Rollo v Minister of Town and Country
194 R. (easyJet Airline Co Ltd) v Civil Aviation Authority [2008] EWCA Civ
1361; R. (Save our Surgery Ltd) v Joint Committee of Primary Care Trusts
[2013] EWHC 439 (Admin).
195 See para.12–017.
196 Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister for the Civil Service [1985] A.C.
374 HL at 408−409; Khan [1985] 1 All E.R. 40; R. v Secretary of State for the
Home Department, Ex p. Ruddock [1987] 1 W.L.R. 1482 QBD; R. v
Birmingham City Council, Ex p. Dredger [1993] C.O.D. 340.
197 Compare Khan [1985] 1 All E.R. 40; Dredger [1993] C.O.D. 340; R. v
Alnwick DC, Ex p. Robson [1998] C.O.D. 241; R. (Greenpeace Ltd) v Secretary
of State for Trade and Industry [2007] EWHC 311 (Admin); Re Findlay [1985]
A.C. 318.
198 Dredger [1993] C.O.D. 340; R. v BBC, Ex p. Kelly [1998] C.O.D. 58; R. v
Secretary of State for Education, Ex p. Southwark LBC [1994] C.O.D. 298; R.
(BAPIO Action Ltd) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2007]
EWCA Civ 1139; affirmed on different grounds [2008] 1 A.C. 1003; R.
(Moseley) v Haringey LBC [2014] UKSC 56 at [35].
199 Bates v Lord Hailsham [1972] 1 W.L.R. 1373 at 1378; R. (BAPIO Action
Ltd) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2007] EWCA Civ 1139 at
[43]−[46]; affirmed on different grounds [2008] 1 A.C. 1003; R. (Hillingdon
LBC) v Lord Chancellor [2008] EWHC 2683 (Admin); Niazi [2008] EWCA Civ
755.
200 R. (National Association of Guardians Ad Litem and Reporting Officers) v
Children and Family Court Advisory and Support Service [2001] EWHC 693
(Admin); R. (Law Society) v Lord Chancellor [2018] EWHC 2094.
201 R. (LH) v Shropshire Council [2014] EWCA Civ 404.
202 R. (Greenpeace Ltd) v Secretary of State for Trade and Industry [2007]
EWHC 311 (Admin); Niazi [2008] EWCA Civ 755; easyJet [2009] EWCA Civ
1361; J. Thornton, “Greenpeace and the Law of Consultations” [2007] J.P.L.
975.
203 The potential implications of this case are far-reaching. If a government
(Civ Div).
205 Moseley [2014] UKSC 56.
210 R. v Amphlett (Judge) [1915] 2 K.B. 223 KBD; Kavanagh v Chief Constable
of Devon and Cornwall [1974] Q.B. 24 CA (Civ Div); Attorney General v Ryan
[1980] A.C. 718; R. (Heather Moor & Edgecomb) v Financial Ombudsman
Service [2009] EWHC 2701 (Admin); R. (Lynch) v Secretary of State for the
Home Department [2012] EWHC 1597 (Admin); Clayton v Army Board of the
Defence Council [2014] EWHC 1651 (Admin).
211 R. (Smith) v Parole Board [2005] 1 All E.R. 755 HL.
212 R. (Osborn) v Parole Board [2014] A.C. 1115 SC; R. (Howard League for
(Admin).
214 Roffey [1969] 2 Q.B. 538 at 552, 556; Breen v Amalgamated Engineering
216 R. (Shoesmith) v Ofsted [2011] EWCA Civ 642; Miller v Health Service
Commissioner for England [2018] EWCA Civ 144.
217 Official Solicitor v K [1965] A.C. 201 HL; Re D (Minors) (Adoption Reports:
Confidentiality) [1996] A.C. 593 HL at 603−604, 615; Wilson [1992] 1 Q.B. 740
at 751−752; Doody [1994] 1 A.C. 531 at 562; R. (Soar) v Secretary of State for
Justice [2015] EWHC 392 (Admin); Re Allister’s Application for Judicial
Review [2019] NIQB 79.
218 R. v Housing Appeal Tribunal [1920] 3 K.B. 334 KBD; Wilson v Colchester
Justices [1985] A.C. 750 HL; R v Birmingham JJ, Ex p. Lamb [1983] 1 W.L.R.
339 DC; R. v Central Criminal Court, Ex p. Boulding [1984] Q.B. 813 QBD;
Wright [2009] 1 A.C. 739.
219 See Ch.13.
220 Sheridan v Stanley Cole (Wainfleet) Ltd [2003] 4 All E.R. 1181 CA (Civ
Div).
221 Roberts v Parole Board [2005] 2 A.C. 738 HL.
456, CA at 489−490. The onus placed on the individual to request a hearing may
well be inappropriate.
225 Hanson v Church Commissioners [1978] Q.B. 823 CA (Civ Div).
820−821.
228 For the extent to which personal knowledge and impression can be used, R. v
City of Westminster Assessment Committee, Ex p. Grosvenor House (Park Lane)
Ltd [1941] 1 K.B. 53 CA; Crofton Investment Trust Ltd v Greater London Rent
Assessment Committee [1967] 2 Q.B. 955 at 967; Wetherall v Harrison [1976]
Q.B. 773 QBD.
229 Mahon [1984] A.C. 808 at 820−821; R. (Afzal) v Election Court [2005]
EWCA Civ 647.
230 Kavanagh v Chief Constable of Devon and Cornwall [1974] Q.B. 624 CA
(Civ Div); Bushell v Secretary of State for the Environment [1981] A.C. 75 HL;
R. v Commission for Racial Equality, Ex p. Cottrell and Rothon [1980] 1 W.L.R.
1580 DC; Chilton v Saga Holidays Plc [1986] 1 All E.R. 841 CA (Civ Div); R. v
Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Tarrant [1985] Q.B. 251 DC,
288−289; Public Disclosure Commission v Isaacs [1989] 1 All E.R. 137; R. (N)
v M [2002] EWCA Civ 1789 at [39]; R. (JB) v Haddock (Responsible Medical
Officer) [2006] EWCA Civ 961 at [64]; R. (Bonhoeffer) v General Medical
Council [2011] EWHC 1585 (Admin); R. (St Matthews (West) Ltd) v HM
Treasury [2014] EWHC 2426 (Admin).
231 St Germain (No.2) [1979] 1 W.L.R. 1401 at 1408−1412.
232 R. (Smith) v Parole Board for England and Wales [2005] 1.W.L.R 350
233 Smith [2005] 1 W.L.R. 350; R. (Smith) v East Kent Hospital NHS Trust
[2002] EWHC 2640 (Admin).
234 Bonhoeffer [2011] EWHC 1585 (Admin); R. (Evans) v Chief Constable of
Sussex [2011] EWHC 2329.
235 J. Alder, “Representation Before Tribunals” [1972] P.L. 278; Galligan, Due
Process and Fair Procedures (1996), pp.361−369.
236 Enderby Town Football Club Ltd v Football Association Ltd [1971] Ch. 591
at 605; Fraser v Mudge [1975] 1 W.L.R. 1132 at 1133, 1134; R. v Secretary of
State for the Home Department, Ex p. Tarrant [1985] Q.B. 251, 270−272,
295−296; R. v Board of Visitors of HM Prison, The Maze, Ex p. Hone [1988] 1
A.C. 379.
237 Ezeh and Connors v United Kingdom (2002) 35 E.H.R.R 28; Bell v United
Kingdom (2007) 45 E.H.R.R. 24; Kulkarni v Milton Keynes Hospital NHS Trust
[2009] EWCA Civ 789.
238 Tarrant [1985] Q.B. 251 at 273.
239 Maynard v Osmond [1977] Q.B. 240 CA (Civ Div) at 253, 255.
241 Tarrant [1985] Q.B. 251 at 284−286; R. v Secretary of State for the Home
Department, Ex p. Anderson [1984] Q.B. 778 QBD; Hone [1988] 1 A.C. 379; R.
(Howard League for Penal Reform) v Lord Chancellor [2017] 4 W.L.R. 92, CA
(Civ Div).
242 Tarrant [1985] Q.B. 251 at 282−283, 298.
2018), Ch.12; J. Mendes, “The Foundations of the Duty to Give Reasons and a
Normative Reconstruction”, in Fisher, King and Young (eds), The Foundations
and Future of Public Law (2020), Ch.15.
245 Administrative Justice, Some Necessary Reforms (Oxford: Oxford University
247 Eagil Trust Co v Piggott-Brown [1985] 3 All E.R. 119 CA (Civ Div); R. v
250 Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1958 s.12(1), replaced by the Tribunals and
Inquiries Act 1992 s.10(1).
251 R. v Minister of Housing and Local Government, Ex p. Chichester RDC
[1960] 1 W.L.R. 587 DC; Givaudan & Co Ltd v Minister of Housing and Local
Government [1967] 1 W.L.R. 250 QBD; Brayhead (Ascot) Ltd v Berkshire CC
[1964] 2 Q.B. 303 QBD; French Kier Developments Ltd v Secretary of State for
Environment [1977] 1 All E.R. 296 QBD; R. v Secretary of State for the Home
Department, Ex p. Dannenberg [1984] Q.B. 766, CA (Civ Div); Bone v Mental
Health Review Tribunal [1985] 3 All E.R. 330 QBD; R. v Mental Health Review
Tribunal, Ex p. Pickering [1986] 1 All E.R. 99 QBD; Westminster City Council
v Great Portland Estates Plc [1985] A.C. 661 HL.
252 Poyser and Mills’s Arbitration [1964] 2 Q.B. 467 QBD at 478; Westminster
City Council v Great Portland Estates Plc [1985] A.C. 661 HL at 673; R. v City
of Westminster, Ex p. Ermakov [1996] C.O.D. 391 CA (Civ Div); R.
(Mevagissey Parish Council) v Cornwall Council [2013] EWHC 3684 (Admin);
Dover DC v Campaign to Protect Rural England [2017] UKSC 79.
253 Save Britain’s Heritage v Secretary of State for the Environment [1991] 1
W.L.R. 153 HL; South Bucks DC v Porter (No.2) [2004] 1 W.L.R. 1953 HL;
Dover DC [2017] UKSC 79 at [45].
254 Emery Reimbold [2002] 1 W.L.R. 2409; Adami v Ethical Standards Officer
257 Helle v Finland (1998) 26 E.H.R.R. 159; Van de Hurk v The Netherlands
(1994) 18 E.H.R.R. 481.
258 Stefan v General Medical Council [2000] H.R.L.R. 1.
259 Minister of National Revenue v Wrights’ Canadian Ropes Ltd [1947] A.C.
109 at 123; Gaming Board [1970] 2 Q.B. 417 at 431; McInnes [1978] 1 W.L.R.
1520 at 1532; R. v Civil Service Appeal Board, Ex p. Cunningham [1991] 4 All
E.R. 310 CA (Civ Div).
260 Wrights’ Canadian Ropes [1947] A.C. 109.
Ex p. Tsahl [1990] C.O.D. 230 QBD at 231; Dover DC [2017] UKSC 79 at [51].
264 Padfield v Minister of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food [1968] A.C. 997 HL.
265 Lonrho Plc v Secretary of State for Trade and Industry [1989] 2 All E.R. 609
HL.
266 Secretary of State for Education and Science v Tameside MBC [1977] A.C.
1014 HL; Mahon [1984] A.C. 808 at 832−833; R. v Sykes (1875) 1 Q.B. 52; R. v
Thomas [1892] 1 Q.B. 426.
267 See para.12–017.
270 Doody [1994] 1 A.C. 531; R. v Dairy Produce Quota Tribunal and Minister
for Agriculture, Fisheries and Food, Ex p. Cooper [1993] C.O.D. 277.
271 R. v Criminal Injuries Compensation Board, Ex p. Cobb [1995] C.O.D. 126
QBD; R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Pegg [1995]
C.O.D. 84 DC; R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Hickey
(No.2) [1995] C.O.D. 164; R. v City of London Corp, Ex p. Matson [1997] 1
W.L.R. 765, CA (Civ Div); R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex
p. Follen [1996] C.O.D. 169; R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department,
Ex p. Murphy [1997] C.O.D. 478; R. v Secretary of State for the Home
Department, Ex p. McAvoy [1998] C.O.D. 148; R. (Wooder) v Fegetter [2002] 3
W.L.R. 591; R. (Savva) v Kensington and Chelsea RLBC [2010] EWCA Civ
1209; R. (T) v Legal Aid Agency [2013] EWHC 960 (Admin); Re PL’s
Application for Judicial Review [2019] NIQB 74; Dover DC [2017] UKSC 79 at
[50]–[59]; R. (Citizens UK) v Secretary of State for the Home Department
[2018] 4 W.L.R. 123 CA (Civ Div); R. (Help Refugees Ltd) v Secretary of State
for the Home Department [2018] 4 W.L.R. 168.
272 R. v Higher Education Funding Council, Ex p. The Institute of Dental
274 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Hickey (No.2) [1995]
C.O.D. 164.
275 Stefan [2000] H.R.L.R. 1; Madan [2001] EWHC Admin 577.
276 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Fayed [1997] 1 All
E.R. 228.
277 Dental Surgery [1994] 1 W.L.R. 242. In Fegetter [2002] 3 W.L.R. 591 it was
held that the Dental Surgery case might now be decided differently on its facts,
but see Millennium Commission [2003] EWCA Civ 88.
278 R. v Ministry of Defence, Ex p. Murray [1998] C.O.D. 134 DC.
[1964] A.C. 40 at 79; R. (New London College Ltd) v Secretary of State for the
Home Department [2011] EWHC 856. This must be subject to a caveat for cases
where failure to give an initially fair hearing prejudiced the individual in a way
that could not be cured by the later rehearing.
283 Calvin [1980] A.C. 574 at 592−593; Leary v National Union of Vehicle
Builders [1971] Ch. 34 Ch D at 48−58; Roffey [1969] 2 Q.B. 538; Wright [2009]
1 A.C. 739.
284 Calvin [1980] A.C. 574 at 593.
286 Barnard v National Dock Labour Board [1953] 2 Q.B. 18 CA; Vine v
National Dock Labour Board [1957] A.C. 488 HL; Jeffs v New Zealand Dairy
Board [1967] 1 A.C. 551 at 568, 569; R. v Race Relations Board, Ex p.
Selvarajan [1975] 1 W.L.R. 1686 CA (Civ Div).
287 Selvarajan [1975] 1 W.L.R. 1686 at 1695−1696, 1698; R. v Commission for
Racial Equality, Ex p. Cottrell and Rothon [1980] 1 W.L.R. 1580 DC at 1589.
288 Evans [1982] 1 W.L.R. 1155 at 1161, 1165.
294 Osborn v Parole Board [2013] UKSC 61; A v BBC [2014] UKSC 25.
296 Osborn [2013] UKSC 61 at [57]; citing R. (Daly) v Secretary of State for the
Home Department [2001] 2 A.C. 532; and R. (West) v Parole Board [2005] 1
W.L.R. 350 as examples of this juridical technique.
297 “The Forms and Limits of Adjudication” (1978) 92 Harv. L.R. 353, 364; J.
Allison, “The Procedural Reason for Judicial Restraint” [1994] P.L. 452;
Galligan, Due Process and Fair Procedures (1996), Chs 8 and 9.
298 This does not mean that the principal aim of natural justice was to impose
others so that a change in any one will produce ramifications in the whole: the
decision of the team captain to move X from centre-back to half-back may
necessitate alteration in the whole team; Fuller (1978) 92 Harv. L.R. 353, 384–
405; Chayes (1976) 89 Harv. L.R. 1281; Eisenberg (1978) 92 Harv. L.R. 400,
426–431; J. King, “The Pervasiveness of Polycentricity’ [2008] P.L. 101.
307 Fuller, “Mediation: Its Forms and Functions” (1971) 44 S. Cal. L.R. 305; M.
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
13–001 i. The previous chapter considered the general principles of natural
justice as they pertain to hearings. The reality is, however, that
the type of hearing available to the individual has always been
affected by rules designed to safeguard the national interest. This
has been increasingly the case post-9/11. These developments
raise important issues of principle. The broad outline of the story
is as follows.
ii. The type of hearing available to the claimant has always been
subject to the rules on public interest immunity. These rules are of
common law origin. The courts transformed this area of the law
in the 1960s. Prior to then, the area was conceptualised as Crown
privilege, this name carrying the implication that it was for the
government to decide whether evidence should be withheld. The
new language of public interest immunity carried the connotation
that the court would decide that certain evidence should be
excluded from the case because the public interest in withholding
the evidence outweighed the public interest in its disclosure.
iii. The normal rules concerning hearings and natural justice have
more recently been qualified by the introduction of what are
known as closed material procedures, which are statutory
creations. A danger is that such proceedings squeeze out the
balancing that takes place within public interest immunity. Closed
material procedures were introduced by statute in specific areas,
such as national security, where it was felt that the public interest
so demands. These proceedings have both “open” and “closed”
elements. All the material, open and closed, which the
government relies on, is placed before the court and a lawyer
known as the special advocate. The individual concerned and his
legal representatives can be present at the open hearings, and see
all the open material used in those hearings. They cannot be
present at the closed parts of the proceedings, or see the closed
material. The special advocate attends all parts of the
proceedings, and sees all the material, including the closed
material not disclosed to the individual. He can take instructions
from the individual before he reads the closed material, and
written instructions after he has seen the closed material. A
special advocate can also communicate with the individual after
he has seen the material, provided it is with the permission of the
court, but
this is relatively rare. There are however, difficulties in ensuring
that the special advocate can adequately represent the individual’s
interests within this system.
iv. The compatibility of the closed material procedure with the rules
of natural justice was tested before the courts. The Supreme Court
made it clear in AF1 that natural justice placed limits on the range
of material that could be excluded from the individual, at least in
cases concerning liberty where art.6 ECHR was applicable. It
subsequently held in Tariq2 that the limits devised in AF did not
apply to all cases that fell within art.6 ECHR. The Supreme Court
further decided in Al Rawi3 that there had to be statutory
foundation for the closed material procedure, and that it could not
be invoked in the absence of such foundation.
v. The government introduced legislation to clarify certain of these
issues and provide the general foundation for closed material
proceedings.4 This has now been done in the Justice and Security
Act 2013, which is analysed at the end of the chapter.
A. “Crown Privilege”
13–002 The overall story concerning hearings and restricted material begins
with what is now known as public interest immunity. Prior to 1968 it
was known as Crown privilege. When an action takes place discovery
of documents will often be necessary. A party will ask the other side to
produce documents that may be material to the question. Where a
party resisted disclosure the court would not order the production of
the documents unless it believed that it was necessary either for
disposing fairly of the cause or matter, or for saving costs.5
Until 1968 the Crown possessed what was known as Crown
privilege.6 It could refuse to reveal documents because it would be
contrary to the public interest. This principle was widely drawn as
exemplified by Duncan.7 A submarine built by the defendants for the
Admiralty sank while on trial. The plaintiff, the widow of one of those
drowned, brought an action for negligence. She sought discovery of
plans of the submarine. The Admiralty withheld them and claimed
Crown privilege. The House of Lords found for the Crown and
propounded a broad rule allowing the Crown to withhold documents of
two types. They could be withheld either if the disclosure of the
“contents” of a particular document would injure the public interest, or
where the document was one of a “class” of documents that must be
withheld to ensure the proper
functioning of the public service. A ministerial statement in the proper
form that a document fell into one of these categories would it seems
not be challenged by the courts.
The Duncan case sanctioned the withholding of documents to a
greater extent than had been allowed previously.8 The potential
breadth of the “class category” enabled the government to protect
documents that might not have required blanket protection.9
Dissatisfaction led the Lord Chancellor in 1956 to announce that the
government would henceforth not claim privilege in certain areas.10
This welcome self-denying ordinance proved to be a double-edged
sword. The areas where privilege would not be claimed had little if
any analytic coherence. Pressure for judicial reconsideration of
Duncan came from Scotland11 and the Court of Appeal.12 The
common link was the refusal to accept that the court was bound by
every class claim put forward by the government. Despite these
promising omens, the Court of Appeal13 then returned once more to
the rigidity of the Duncan approach. It was fortunate that the case went
to the House of Lords, which took the opportunity for legal reform.
B. From Crown Privilege to Public Interest Immunity
13–003 In Conway v Rimmer14 the plaintiff was a former probationary police
constable who began an action for malicious prosecution against his
former superintendent. The secretary of state objected to the
production of five documents, certifying that they fell within classes of
document whose disclosure would be injurious to the public interest.
The defendant made four of the reports about the plaintiff during his
probationary period. The fifth was a report made by him to his chief
constable in connection with the prosecution of the plaintiff on a
criminal charge on which he was acquitted. It was this criminal charge
that was the foundation of the action for malicious prosecution.
The Duncan case was overturned. The House of Lords asserted the
courts’ power to hold a balance between the public interest as
expressed by the minister who wished to withhold certain documents,
and the public interest in ensuring the proper administration of justice.
The formulations as to how the balancing was to operate differed.
These should not cloud the main principle that was unequivocally
asserted: the courts would balance the competing public interests to
determine whether disclosure should be ordered. If the court was in
doubt as to
the outcome of this balancing it could inspect the documents before
ordering production. This was done and the court concluded that the
documents should be produced. Class claims and contents claims for
public interest immunity persisted after Conway. What the judgment
made clear was that all such claims would be subject to the balancing
test.
Given the nature of the balancing operation the Conway case
required, the name “Crown privilege” was obviously inappropriate.
The Crown could not simply decide to withdraw documents from the
court. This was recognised in Rogers.15 An application for a gaming
certificate had been refused and Rogers wished to know the contents
of a letter written by the chief constable to the Gaming Board about
him. The Home Secretary sought to prevent discovery of the document
and pleaded Crown privilege. While the House of Lords agreed that
the letter should not be produced, they disapproved of the term Crown
privilege. Lord Reid16 stated that the term privilege was misleading,
and that the real issue was whether the public interest in not disclosing
the document outweighed the interest of the litigant in having all the
evidence before the court.
13–013 Ministers will only claim public interest immunity when it is believed
that disclosure of a document will cause real damage or harm to the
public interest. The harm might be direct or indirect. Ministers will
therefore perform the balancing exercise specified in Wiley. The
damage might relate to the safety of an individual, to the regulatory
process, to international relations, the nation’s economic interests or
national security. The nature of the harm will be explained by the
minister when immunity is claimed.
The former division into class claims and contents claims will no
longer be applied. Ministers will not therefore claim immunity to
protect, for example, internal advice or national security merely by
pointing to the general nature of the document. The factors which will
be taken into account in a properly reasoned certificate relating to, for
example, internal advice, will include: the public importance of the
topic; the level of the discussion; the degree of controversy; the
expectation of the parties that the exchanges would be confidential;
and the likelihood that the disclosure will have damaging
consequences of a specific and important nature.
ii. Evaluation
A. Key Features
13–022 The government published a wide-ranging Green Paper in which it
addressed issues concerning natural justice, public interest immunity
and the closed material procedure in the light of the case law
considered above.
The government’s approach to reform was predicated on seeking
to maximise “the amount of relevant material that is considered by the
court while at the same time ensuring that, where the material is
sensitive, it is protected from potentially harmful disclosure”.112 The
assumption was that it is “fairer in terms of outcome to seek to include
relevant material rather than to exclude it from consideration
altogether”.113 It proposed legislation to make CMPs available
wherever necessary in civil proceedings, thereby overcoming the
obstacles of Al Rawi.114
Most worrying was the proposal to vest the decision whether to use
a CMP in the secretary of state on the ground that he is “best placed to
assess the harm that may be caused by disclosing sensitive
information”.115 It was accepted that this decision could be judicially
reviewed, but it would have been difficult for the claimant to succeed,
since in most instances the court would be asked to review the exercise
of ministerial discretion and this would be subject to limited rationality
review. This proposal was strongly criticised in the consultation
process.
The Justice and Security Act 2013 did not retain this feature. It is
for the court to make a declaration allowing a CMP procedure in
relevant civil proceedings.116 The application may be made by the
secretary of state, or any party to the proceedings, or it may be made of
the court’s own motion.117 Two conditions must be satisfied before the
court issues such a declaration. The first condition is that a party to the
proceedings would be required to disclose sensitive material in the
course of the proceedings to another person; or that a party to the
proceedings would be required to make such a disclosure were it not
for one or more circumstances specified in the Act.118 The secretary of
state resisting disclosure must consider making an application for
public interest immunity before seeking a closed material
procedure.119 The second condition is that it is in the interests of the
fair and effective administration of justice in the proceedings to make
a declaration.120 There is, however, no residual common law right to a
core minimum of disclosure under the 2013 Act.121 Sensitive material
is defined to be material the disclosure of which would be damaging to
national security.122 Nothing in ss.6–14 of the 2013 Act is to be read
as requiring a court to act inconsistently with art.6 ECHR.123 The court
has a duty to keep the CMP under review, and may revoke it at any
time if it considers that it is no longer in the interests of the fair and
effective administration of justice in the proceedings.124
Special advocates are part of the CMP regime.125 The secretary of
state has an obligation to report on the use of the CMP procedure each
year,126 and must appoint a person to review the operation of the CMP
schema in the 2013 Act.127
B. Evaluation
13–023 Tomkins is assuredly right that the Justice and Security Act 2013
benefited from close scrutiny by the House of Lords, which secured a
number of valuable amendments during the legislative process.128
There is also little doubt that there are tensions integral to the closed
material procedure, and that its generalised availability through the
2013 legislation exacerbates those tensions.
i. Legislative premise
13–024 The premise to the reforms was that extension of CMPs was the most
just way to ensure that sensitive cases were litigated with the
maximum available material before the court. This would, in the
government’s view, be preferable to the public interest immunity
system, since it would allow the court to consider all the relevant
material, regardless of security classification; render it less likely that
cases would have to be dropped or settled; “enable the courts to deal
effectively with the challenges in all the contexts in which they
arise”129; and reduce the risk of damaging disclosure of sensitive
material. This premise seems uncontroversial, but on further reflection
it is not, for the reason given by Lord Kerr in Al Rawi130:
“The defendants’ second argument proceeds on the premise that placing before a judge all
relevant material is, in every instance, preferable to having to withhold potentially pivotal
evidence. This proposition is deceptively attractive—for what, the defendants imply, could
be fairer than an independent arbiter having access to all the evidence germane to the dispute
between the parties? The central fallacy of the argument, however, lies in the unspoken
assumption that, because the judge sees everything, he is bound to be in a better position to
reach a fair result. That assumption is misplaced. To be truly valuable, evidence must be
capable of withstanding challenge. I go further. Evidence which has been insulated from
challenge may positively mislead. It is precisely because of this that the right to know the
case that one’s opponent makes and to have the opportunity to challenge it occupies such a
central place in the concept of a fair trial. However astute and assiduous the judge, the
proposed procedure hands over to one party considerable control over the production of
relevant material and the manner in which it is to be presented. The peril that such a
procedure presents to the fair trial of contentious litigation is both obvious and undeniable.”
The preceding concerns are borne out by the Justice and Security Act
2013, which reflects the government preference for CMPs over PII.
This is apparent from the combination of s.6(7) and s.6(4).135 Section
6(7) merely requires the secretary of state to have “considered”
whether to make an application for PII before seeking to invoke the
CMP. Section 6(4) sets out the first condition for seeking a CMP,136
which is that a party would be required to disclose sensitive material to
another person, or that a party would be required to make such a
disclosure were it not for the possibility of a claim for public interest
immunity in relation to the material.137 The tensions between PII and
CMP were explored by Irwin J in CF.138 He took the view that the two
procedures were antithetical, and that particular difficulties could exist
where a case involved issues of national security, which could justify a
CMP, and other issues, such as harm to international relations, which
might be the ground for PII.
iii. CMPs and special advocates
13–026 The special advocate system is crucial to the CMP and the Green
Paper considered ways in which its effectiveness could be enhanced,
by providing for better arrangements for communication with the party
whose interests they are representing after service of closed material.
Concerns in this respect have been central to the critique of the special
advocate system. The limit of what they can
achieve has been noted by those with first-hand experience of the role.
Thus, Chamberlain pointed to assumptions that underpinned judicial
treatment of special advocates.139
It was assumed that the special advocates’ ability to adduce
evidence to rebut the closed material contributed to their ability to
ensure procedural justice. The reality was that special advocates lacked
access to independent expertise and advice, such that it was difficult to
proffer evidence to challenge expert assessments of the Security
Service. A second assumption was that special advocates could
challenge effectively the government’s objections to disclosure of the
closed case. However, without access to independent expert evidence,
the special advocate could not contest the government’s argument that
disclosure could cause harm to the public interest. The result was that
unless the special advocate could point to an open source for the
information in question, governmental assessment about what could be
disclosed could not effectively be challenged. A third assumption was
that the fact that the special advocate could communicate with the
claimant after seeing the closed material, albeit with the court’s
permission, was significant in achieving procedural justice. This was
however, not very effective since the government would often object
to such communication and the special advocate would not wish to
disclose litigation strategy.140
Some of these limitations have been appreciated by the courts. The
difficulties were captured by Lord Dyson141:
“[I]t is obviously true that party A who is in possession of the closed material will know
whether there is material on which it may wish to rely and will therefore be in a position to
decide whether to ask the court to order a closed procedure in relation to that material. But it
is difficult to see how opposing party B will know whether his case will be assisted by, or
even depend to a significant extent on, the closed material held by A without knowing what
the material is and what it contains. If a special advocate is appointed, he might be able to
assess the importance of some of the documents, but the scope for doing so without being
able to take instructions from B is bound to be limited. It follows that, if the power to order a
closed material procedure turns on such considerations, it is likely to operate in favour of A
and to the disadvantage of B. In my view, this is an approach which is inherently unfair. It is
certainly not necessary in the interests of justice.”
should be left in absolutely no doubt that what is happening … has absolutely nothing to do
with the traditions of adversarial justice as we have come to understand them in the British
legal system.’ Indeed, we were left with the very strong feeling that this is a process which is
not just offensive to the basic principles of adversarial justice in which lawyers are steeped,
but it is very much against the basic notions of fair play as the lay public would understand
them.”
5. CONCLUSION
13–027 Reconciliation of the demands for procedural justice and the need to
safeguard national security is an endemic problem for all liberal states.
The case law reveals the difficult judgments that have to be made in
this respect. There is little doubt that enactment of a general statute
legitimating recourse to closed material procedure has a significant
impact on pre-existing hearing rights. These concerns are heightened
by the fact that the Justice and Security Act 2013 severely constrains
proceedings whereby the claimant seeks disclosure of material from a
person to prove wrongdoing by another.145 It remains to be seen how
the courts interpret the legislation. Lord Neuberger’s guidelines in
Bank Mellat prior to the 2013 Act about use of the CMP nonetheless
remain relevant.146
1 Secretary of State for the Home Department v AF [2010] 2 A.C. 269 HL.
3 Al Rawi v Security Service (Justice and others intervening) [2011] UKSC 34.
4 Green Paper, Justice and Security (2011) Cm.8194; Justice and Security Bill
2012.
5 RSC Ord.24 r.13.
12 Re Grosvenor Hotel (London) Ltd (No.2) [1965] Ch. 1210 CA; Merricks v
Nott-Bower [1965] 1 Q.B. 57 CA; Wednesbury Corp v Ministry of Housing and
Local Government [1965] 1 W.L.R. 261 CA (Civ Div).
13 Conway v Rimmer [1967] 1 W.L.R. 1031 CA (Civ Div).
15 Rogers v Secretary of State for Home Department [1973] A.C. 388 HL.
16 Rogers [1973] A.C. 388 at 400. See also, 406, 408 and 412.
19 BL Cars Ltd (Formerly Leyland Cars) v Vyas [1980] A.C. 1028 HL; Buckley v
Law Society (No.2) [1984] 1 W.L.R. 1101 Ch D; British Steel Corp v Granada
Television Ltd [1981] A.C. 1096 HL; Shah v HSBC Private Bank (UK) Ltd
[2011] EWHC 1713.
20 CPR r.31.19(1); Frankson v Secretary of State for the Home Department
[2003] 1 W.L.R. 1952 CA (Civ Div) at [9].
21 CPR r.31.19(8).
22 Rogers [1973] A.C. 388; Lonrho Ltd v Shell Petroleum Co Ltd (No.2) [1982]
A.C. 173 HL; Y. Cripps, “Judicial Proceedings and Refusal to Disclose the
Identity of Sources of Information” [1984] C.L.J. 266.
23 Alfred Crompton Amusement Machines Ltd v Customs and Excise
Commissioners (No.2) [1974] A.C. 405 HL; R. (Mohamed) v Secretary of State
for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs (No.2) [2011] Q.B. 218 CA (Civ Div).
24 D v National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children [1978] A.C.
171 HL; Re D (Infants) [1970] 1 W.L.R. 599 CA (Civ Div); Gaskin v Liverpool
City Council [1980] 1 W.L.R. 1549 CA (Civ Div); Buckley v Law Society (No.2)
[1984] 1 W.L.R. 1101 Ch D.
25 See also Norwich Pharmacal Co v Customs and Excise Commissioners [1974]
P.L. 514; A. Tomkins, “Public Interest Immunity after Matrix Churchill” [1993]
P.L. 650, 662−665.
28 R. v Chief Constable of the West Midlands Police, Ex p. Wiley [1995] 1 A.C.
274 HL; Tchenguiz v Director of the Serious Fraud Office [2015] 1 W.L.R. 797
CA.
29 Edwards v United Kingdom (1993) 15 E.H.R.R. 417; Rowe and Davis v
United Kingdom (2000) 30 E.H.R.R. 1; Jasper v United Kingdom (2000) 30
E.H.R.R. 441; Atlan v United Kingdom (2002) 34 E.H.R.R. 33; Edwards and
Lewis v United Kingdom [2005] 40 E.H.R.R. 24.
30 The application of these principles was considered in R. v Botmeh [2002] 1
W.L.R. 531 CA (Crim Div); R. v H [2003] 1 W.L.R. 3006 CA (Crim Div).
31 R. v H [2004] 2 A.C. 134 HL; R. v May [2005] 1 W.L.R. 2902 CA (Crim
Div); R. v Lewis [2005] EWCA Crim 859; R. (XY) v Crown Court [2016] EWHC
1872 (Admin); R. v Kelly [2018] EWCA Crim 1893.
32 RSC Ord.24 r.13; Air Canada v Secretary of State for Trade (No.2) [1983] 2
A.C. 394 HL.
33 Burmah Oil Co Ltd v Bank of England [1980] A.C. 1090 HL at 1117.
38 CPR r.31.3.
39 CPR r.31.5(1).
40 CPR r.31.5(2).
41 CPR r.31.6.
42 CPR r.31.12.
43 See Ch.27.
48 Three of their Lordships held that in order to warrant inspection the plaintiff
must show that there was a reasonable probability that the material was
necessary for fairly disposing of the case, and that the documents would help his
or her case or damage that of the other side, Air Canada [1983] 2 A.C. 394 at
435, 439, 442−443. Two of their Lordships held that the plaintiff must show that
the documents were likely to be necessary for fairly disposing of the case, and
that the court could inspect the documents when it considered that their
disclosure might materially assist either of the parties or the court in the
determination of the issues, 445−446, 447−449.
49 R. (Al-Sweady) v Secretary of State for Defence [2009] EWHC 1687 DC
(Admin).
50 In Burmah Oil [1980] A.C. 1090 Lord Wilberforce spoke of a claim for public
58 See, e.g. Wiley [1995] 1 A.C. 274; R. (Mohammed) v Secretary of State for
Defence [2012] EWHC 3454 (Admin); Worcestershire CC v HM Coroner for
Worcestershire [2013] EWHC 1711 (QB); R. (Evans) v Secretary of State for
Defence [2013] EWHC 3068 DC (Admin); R.(A) v Chief Constable of C
Constabulary [2013] EWHC 4120 (Admin); Commissioner of Police of the
Metropolis v Bangs [2014] EWHC 546 DC (Admin); R.(X) v Chief Constable of
Y [2015] EWHC 484 (Admin); Re C (A Child) (Application for Public Interest
Immunity) [2017] EWHC 692 (Fam); Competition and Markets Authority v
Concordia International Rx (UK) Ltd [2018] EWHC 3448 (Ch); HTF v Ministry
of Defence [2018] EWHC 1623 (QB).
59 R. (Hoareau) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
71 Burmah Oil [1980] A.C. 1090 at 1145. Even where the balance is against
disclosure there may be a temporal limit upon the secrecy, R. v Inland Revenue
Commissioners, Ex p. Rossminster Ltd [1980] A.C. 952 HL.
72 See also the opinion of Lord Fraser in Air Canada [1983] 2 A.C. 394.
73 The Report of the Inquiry into the Export of Defence and Dual Use Goods to
83 J. Ip, “The Rise and Spread of the Special Advocate” [2008] P.L. 717.
85 K. Ewing, “The Futility of the Human Rights Act” [2004] P.L. 829; A. Lester,
“The Utility of the HRA: A Reply to Keith Ewing” [2005] P.L. 249; K. Ewing
and J. Tham, “The Continuing Futility of the Human Rights Act” [2008] P.L.
829; A. Sandell, “Liberty, Fairness and the UK Control Order Cases: Two Steps
Forward, Two Steps Back” [2008] E.H.R.L.R. 120; A. Kavanagh, “Judging the
Judges under the Human Rights Act: Deference, Disillusionment and the ‘War
on Terror’” [2009] P.L. 287.
86 A v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2005] 2 A.C. 68 HL.
89 Secretary of State for the Home Department v MB [2008] 1 A.C. 440 HL.
95 AF [2010] 2 A.C. 269 at [59], [81], [85], [96], [101], [108], [114].
102 AH v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2011] EWCA Civ 787;
Secretary of State for the Home Department v CD [2011] EWHC 2087; Bank
Mellat v HM Treasury [2014] EWHC 3631 (Admin).
103 W (Algeria) (FC) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2012]
UKSC 8.
104 Green Paper, Justice and Security, p.54.
105 Tariq [2011] UKSC 35; CF v Security Service [2014] EWHC 3171 (QB).
[143]−[147], [158].
107 See, however, Bank Mellat v HM Treasury [2016] 1 W.L.R. 1187 CA (Civ
Div).
108 Green Paper, Justice and Security, paras 2.39−2.46.
109 Al Rawi [2011] UKSC 34; R. (B) v Westminster Magistrates’ Court [2014] 3
W.L.R. 1336 SC; A Zuckerman, “Closed Material Procedure—Denial of Natural
Justice: Al Rawi v Security Service” (2011) 30 C.J.Q. 345.
110 Bank Mellat v HM Treasury [2014] A.C. 700 SC at [38]–[42].
114 Al Rawi [2011] UKSC 34; Green Paper, Justice and Security, para.2.5.
116 Relevant civil proceedings are defined in the Justice and Security Act 2013
118 Justice and Security Act 2013 s.6(4); Re Gallagher’s Application for Judicial
Review [2016] NIQB 95; Rahmatullah v Ministry of Defence [2017] EWHC 547
(QB); HTF v Ministry of Defence [2018] EWHC 1623 (QB); Abdule v Foreign
and Commonwealth Office [2018] EWHC 3594 (QB).
119 Justice and Security Act 2013 s.6(7); R. (Sarkandi) v Secretary of State for
Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs [2015] EWCA Civ 687.
120 Justice and Security Act 2013 s.6(5); XH v Secretary of State for the Home
123 Justice and Security Act 2013 s.14(2)(c); R. (K) v Secretary of State for
Defence [2017] 1 W.L.R. 1671, CA (Civ Div).
124 Justice and Security Act 2013 s.7(2).
128 A. Tomkins, “Justice and Security in the United Kingdom” (2014) 47 Israel
L. Rev. 305.
129 Green Paper, Justice and Security, para.2.3.
of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs [2015] EWCA Civ 687.
136 Justice and Security Act 2013 s.6(4)(a).
142 Counter-Terrorism Policy and Human Rights: 28 days, intercept and post-
charge questioning, 19th Report of Session 2006–07, HL Paper No.157/HC
Paper No.394 (Session 2006–07), para.210; Counter-Terrorism Policy and
Human Rights (16th Report), Annual Renewal of Control Orders Legislation
2010, 9th Report of Session 2009–2010, HL Paper No.64/HC Paper No.395
(Session 2009–10).
143 Green Paper, Justice and Security, paras 2.33−2.34.
146 Bank Mellat [2014] A.C. 700 SC at [68]–[74]. They can be summarised as
follows. First, where a judge gives both open and closed judgments, it is highly
desirable in the open judgment, that the judge identifies every conclusion
reached using closed material, and says that this is what has been done.
Secondly, a judge who has relied on closed material in a closed judgment should
say in the open judgment as much as possible about the closed material relied
upon. Thirdly, on appeal against an open and closed judgment, an appellate court
should only be asked to conduct a closed hearing if it was strictly necessary for
fairly determining the appeal. Fourthly, if the appellate court decided to look at
closed material, careful consideration should be given by the advocates, and by
the court, to whether it would nonetheless be possible to avoid a closed
substantive hearing. Fifthly, if the court decided that a CMP was necessary, the
parties should try and agree a way of avoiding, or minimising the extent of, a
closed hearing. Sixthly, if there is a closed hearing, the lawyers representing the
party relying on the closed material, as well as that party itself, should ensure in
advance of the appeal that the excluded party is provided with as much
information as possible about closed documents relied on, and the special
advocates are given as full information as possible regarding the nature of the
passages relied on in closed documents and the arguments that will be advanced
in relation thereto. Lastly, appellate courts should be robust about acceding to
applications to go into closed session or even to look at closed material.
CHAPTER 14
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
14–001 i. The second limb of natural justice is that decisions should be
made free from bias or impartiality.1 The issue can arise in two
main contexts. First, the decision-maker might have some
pecuniary or personal interest in the proceedings. Secondly, there
can be problems where the decision-maker is interested in the
result of an inquiry or investigation, not in any personal sense, but
because the institution that is represented wishes to attain a
certain objective.
ii. There has been considerable discussion about the appropriate test
for bias. The legal test has now become more settled. The chapter
will examine the controversies surrounding the test for bias and
consider how the current test has been interpreted by the courts.
iii. The Human Rights Act 1998 added a further dimension to this
inquiry. Article 6 of the European Convention on Human Rights
(ECHR) establishes a right to a fair trial. The relevance of art.6
for the applicability and content of procedural rights was
considered in an earlier chapter.2 The present discussion will
focus on another important aspect of art.6 ECHR: the requirement
that the hearing should be by “an independent and impartial
tribunal established by law”.
iv. The application of art.6 can be problematic, because it may
require significant modification of the pre-existing methods for
the making of administrative decisions. The extent to which the
administrative landscape should be altered because of art.6 will
be considered in this chapter.
B. Personal Interests
14–003 Other personal interests may disqualify the decision-maker if the
courts find that the interest gave rise to a reasonable suspicion or real
danger of bias. Much will depend on the factual nexus between the
decision-maker and another party involved in the dispute. Family
relationship,11 business connections, and commercial ties12 are
examples of the interests that can disqualify the decision-maker, as is
membership of an organisation interested in the dispute.13 It may, on
occasion, be someone other than the actual adjudicator who has been
involved. Nevertheless, provided that he has, or may appear to have,
an influence on the decision given, then that will be sufficient to
render the determination invalid.14
3. BIAS: INSTITUTIONAL
B. Institutional Opinion
14–005 Administrators of a particular scheme may well have “strong views” or
“preconceived ideas” concerning the regulatory issue before them.25
They may have guidelines to help interpret a broadly worded statute,
the application of which should not in itself constitute bias. Clear pre-
judgment of a case is to be disapproved of, but the success of
legislation may well depend on the administrator enforcing the
institution’s policies with rigour. Indifference to the end in view, even
if it were possible, might well be undesirable.26
Seen against this background the decision in Franklin,27 although
influenced by the judicial conservatism of the time, would probably
not be different today.28 The House of Lords stated that the Minister
had a duty to give genuine consideration to a report of an inspector
concerning the siting of a new town at Stevenage and to consider
objections to that position. It was held that reference to bias was out of
place in this context. However, while the result might well be the
same, the reasoning of the Court of Appeal is to be preferred: complete
impartiality could not be expected and the term impartiality when used
in the context of a minister making a decision such as the siting of a
new town, would not necessarily be the same as when applied to a
magistrate deciding a case of nuisance.
While complete impartiality cannot always be expected in such a
case, natural justice may still require that a minister hear
representations. In the Brent LBC case,29 the applicant local authorities
claimed that they should be entitled to make representations to the
minister as to how he should exercise his powers concerning local
authority grants. Representations had been made prior to the passage
of the legislation, but the court held that the minister was still under a
duty to act fairly in the way in which he exercised his discretion under
the legislation. He should, therefore, have listened to representations
made after the Act received the Royal Assent, but before he actually
exercised his discretion. The court accepted that the minister would
not be expected to hear such representations as if he were a judge. The
minister would not be expected to approach the matter with an empty
mind, but his mind should, in the words of the court, at least be ajar.
The problem adverted to above can also manifest itself at local as
well as at central level. Thus, licensing justices are not precluded from
hearing an appeal for a licence, even though some had been concerned
with an earlier application: the nature of the licensing function
required those with local knowledge to form a policy for their area
which they could have regard to when hearing individual applications,
and the limited number of licensing justices meant that they might, on
occasion, hear an appeal when they had been concerned with an earlier
application.30
A. Past Confusion
14–006 There has been considerable confusion concerning the test for
determining bias in cases other than those concerning pecuniary
interest. Two tests were espoused by the courts, that of “real likelihood
of bias”, and that of “reasonable suspicion of
bias”.31 In the 19th-century cases the former test held sway: if there
was no pecuniary interest the court inquired whether there was a real
likelihood of bias.32 However, in McCarthy,33 Lord Hewart CJ said
that a reasonable suspicion of bias was sufficient to quash the
determination. The tide appeared to be shifting back to the higher test,
since in two prominent cases the courts expressly adopted that criteria
and disapproved of Lord Hewart CJ’s formulation.34 Certainty was not
however to last for in Lannon Lord Denning MR “rescued” Lord
Hewart’s reasonable suspicion test.35 The root of the confusion for
later cases was that Lord Denning MR began by approving the Hewart
test and ended by talking of real likelihood. Not surprisingly, later
cases found Lannon difficult to interpret.36
5. BIAS: EXCEPTIONS
A. Necessity
14–009 The normal rules against bias will be displaced where the individual
whose impartiality is called in question is the only person empowered
to act. Thus, in the Dimes55 case it was held that the Lord Chancellor’s
signature on an enrolment order that was necessary for the case to
proceed to the House of Lords, was unaffected by his shareholding in
the company, because no other person was empowered to sign.
Similarly, in Phillips56 it was held that the Governor of a colony could
validly assent to an Act of Indemnity that protected his own actions,
because the relevant Act had to receive this signature.
B. Statute
14–010 Parliament has made statutory exceptions to the rule against bias,
allowing justices to sit who have some interest in the subject-matter of
the action.57 The courts have construed such statutory provisions
strictly.58 Thus, in Shaw59 s.258 of the Public Health Act 1872, which
enabled a justice of the peace to sit even though a member of a local
authority, was held not to protect him where he acted in a prosecutorial
and adjudicatory capacity. In other areas statute may, for example,
create an offence to take part in a decision on a matter in relation to
which a person has a pecuniary interest, and yet will allow acts thus
made to remain valid.60
C. Waiver
14–011 It is permissible for an individual to waive the interests of an
adjudicator,61 and the courts were quick to infer such a waiver.62 Later
courts have been more reluctant to so infer, particularly where the
applicant did not know of the right to object at that stage. In order for a
waiver to be valid the party waiving the right had to be aware of all the
material facts and the consequences of the choice open
to him and should be given a fair opportunity to reach an unpressured
decision.63 This restriction on waiver is to be welcomed. Such a
surrender of rights should not be inferred lightly. It is open to question
whether it should be allowed at all, at least in certain types of cases.
The premise behind the ability to waive is that it is only the individual
who is concerned, and thus if that person “chooses” to ignore the fact
that the adjudicator is an interested party then so much the worse for
the applicant. However, there may well be a wider interest at issue, in
that it may be contrary to the public interest for decisions to be made
where there may be a likelihood of favour to another influencing the
determination.
14–016 There was a marked difference of view between the Divisional Court
and the House of Lords on the role of the minister. Both courts
regarded the legality of the ministerial power to make policy, and
adjudicate thereon, as the nub of the issue.
The premise of the Divisional Court’s judgment was that this
duality of function was wrong. It felt that the minister made important
policy decisions in these areas, and also adjudicated on individual
matters, without there being sufficient safeguards to prevent him
acting in his own self-interest when making such decisions.86
The premise of the House of Lords’ judgment was precisely the
opposite. Their Lordships felt that the ministerial role was quite
proper. Lord Slynn refused to accept that a policy maker could not be a
decision-maker, or that the final decision could not be that of a
democratically elected person or body.87 Lord Nolan held that a degree
of central control was essential to orderly planning. Parliament had
entrusted this task to the minister, who was accountable to it. To
substitute for the minister an “independent and impartial body with no
electoral accountability would not only be a recipe for chaos: it would
be profoundly undemocratic”.88 Lord Clyde stated that once it is
recognised that there should be a national planning policy under a
central supervision, it was consistent with democratic principle that the
responsibility for that work “should lie on the shoulders of a minister
answerable to Parliament”.89 Lord Hutton noted that the minister
would be answerable to Parliament for the exercise of his power.90
Lord Hoffmann was most forceful in this respect. He accepted,
with the Divisional Court, that the minister was not an independent
and impartial tribunal. Lord Hoffmann, however, strongly disagreed
with the lower court that it was objectionable in terms of art.6 that the
minister should be judge in his own cause where his policy was in
play. For Lord Hoffmann, the question was not whether he should be a
judge in his own cause, but whether he should be regarded as a judge
at all.91 Lord Hoffmann did not think of the minister in this way: the
minister’s constitutional role was to formulate and apply government
policy.92
14–017 The differing views on the propriety of the minister’s role had a
marked effect on the second issue, which was the sufficiency of the
controls provided by judicial review. The Strasbourg jurisprudence
stipulated that art.6 could be met either if the initial decision-maker
was independent and impartial, or if there was control
by a judicial body with full jurisdiction, which provided the guarantees
of art.6.93 In Alconbury the Divisional Court found that the
“safeguards” mentioned in Bryan were insufficient where the minister,
rather than the inspector, made the decision. This was because he was
free to make his own decision after taking account of internal legal and
policy elucidation.94
The House of Lords reached the opposite conclusion. Lord Slynn
emphasised the detailed procedural rules applicable when the minister
made a decision on a called in planning application, or recovered
appeal. These rules were pertinent when the minister differed from the
inspector on a matter of fact, or took into account new evidence, and
was disposed to disagree with the inspector. He was required to notify
persons entitled to appear at the inquiry, to give reasons for his
differences with the inspector and to allow written representations.95 It
was this, combined with judicial review, which Lord Slynn felt to be
determinative in concluding that the procedure as a whole was
compatible with art.6.96
Lord Clyde examined the factors mentioned in Bryan relevant to
the sufficiency of control by way of review. He considered the subject-
matter of the dispute, the manner in which the decisions were taken,
and the content of the dispute. His conclusion was that, judged by
these criteria, judicial review was sufficient to ensure that the decision-
making process as a whole complied with art.6.97 Lord Hutton was of
the opinion that the principles in Bryan could be applied to the instant
case, notwithstanding that the minister rather than the inspector made
the decision.98
Lord Hoffmann held that the lower court had misunderstood the
relevance of the “safeguards” mentioned in Bryan, by finding that they
were necessary before appeal or review could satisfy art.6 whatever
the issues actually were.99 This was, he said, the opposite of what had
been intended in Bryan. Where the question was one of policy or
expediency these “safeguards” were irrelevant. The reason why
judicial review was sufficient in such cases had nothing to do with the
“safeguards”, but depended on respect for the ministerial decision on
matters of expediency. The fact that the parties were not privy to
departmental processes of decision-making was “no more than one
would expect”,100 given that the constitutional role of the minister in
formulating and applying government policy required the advice and
assistance of civil servants. It was only where findings of fact, and
evaluation of fact, were in issue that the safeguards were essential for
the acceptance of limited review of fact by the appellate tribunal.101 In
this respect the procedural rules on planning, combined with controls
on fact-finding through judicial review, were sufficient to satisfy
art.6.102
7 In the Rand case those challenged were two justices who were trustees for a
hospital and friendly society respectively, which bodies had funds invested in a
corporation which had applied to the justices.
8 R. v McKenzie [1892] 2 Q.B. 519.
10 R. v Gaisford [1892] 1 Q.B. 381 QBD, the interest of a ratepayer was held to
be a pecuniary interest.
11 Metropolitan Properties (FGC) Ltd v Lannon [1969] 1 Q.B. 577 CA (Civ
Div).
12 R. v Barnsley Licensing JJ, Ex p. Barnsley and District Licensed Victuallers
Association [1960] 2 Q.B. 167 CA; R. v Hendon RDC, Ex p. Chorley [1933] 2
K.B. 696 KBD; R. v Chesterfield BC, Ex p. Darker Enterprises Ltd [1992]
C.O.D. 466.
13 Leeson [1889] 43 Ch. D. 366; Allinson v General Council of Medical
Education and Registration [1894] 1 Q.B. 750 CA.
14 R. v Sussex Justices, Ex p. McCarthy [1924] 1 K.B. 256 KBD (clerk to the
justices was member of a solicitor’s firm acting for one of the parties in a
collision out of which the prosecution of the other party arose); Cooper v Wilson
[1937] 2 K.B. 309 CA (chief constable who had purported to dismiss a
policeman sat with the Watch Committee when they heard the policeman’s
case); R. v Kent Police Authority, Ex p. Godden [1971] 2 Q.B. 662 CA (Civ Div)
(in deciding whether a policeman should be compulsorily retired a report should
not be sought from a psychiatrist who had already formed an adverse view of the
person); R. v Barnsley MBC, Ex p. Hook [1976] 1 W.L.R. 1052 CA (Civ Div)
(market manager in the position of a prosecutor should not give evidence to a
committee in the absence of the accused).
15 R. v Lee, Ex p. Shaw [1882] 9 Q.B.D. 394.
16 See also R. v Gaisford [1892] 1 Q.B. 381 QBD; R. v Pwllheli JJ, Ex p. Soane
[1948] 2 All E.R. 815 DC; Frome United Breweries Co Ltd v Bath Justices
[1926] A.C. 586 HL; Roebuck v National Union of Mineworkers (Yorkshire
Area) (No.2) [1978] I.C.R. 676 Ch D.
17 Leeson [1889] 43 Ch. D. 366; Re S (A Barrister) [1981] Q.B. 683 Visitors to
the Inns Court.
18 See also, Allinson [1894] 1 Q.B. 750; Burton [1897] 2 Q.B. 468. Compare
1168.
21 R. v Bow Street Metropolitan Stipendiary Magistrate, Ex p. Pinochet Ugarte
(No.2) [2000] 1 A.C. 119 HL; T. Jones, “Judicial Bias and Disqualification in
the Pinochet case” [1999] P.L. 391; Sir D. Williams, “Bias, the Judges and the
Separation of Powers” [2000] P.L. 45.
22 Leeson [1889] 43 Ch. D. 366; Allinson [1894] 1 Q.B. 750; Meerabux v
Attorney General of Belize [2005] 2 A.C. 513.
23 ILEX [2011] EWCA Civ 1168.
29 R. v Secretary of State for the Environment, Ex p. Brent LBC [1982] Q.B. 593
DC.
30 R. v Crown Court at Bristol, Ex p. Cooper [1990] 2 All E.R. 193 CA (Civ
[1979] P.L. 237; H. Rawlings, “The Test for the Nemo Judex Rule” [1980] P.L.
122.
32 Rand (1866) L.R. 1 Q.B. 230; R. v Sunderland JJ [1901] 2 K.B. 357 CA.
Spirit Ltd [2002] I.C.R. 486 EAT; Taylor v Williamsons (A Firm) [2002] EWCA
Civ 1380; Jones v DAS Legal Expenses Insurance Co Ltd [2003] EWCA Civ
1071; Lawal v Northern Spirit Ltd [2004] 1 All E.R. 187 HL; R. (Carroll) v
Secretary of State for the Home Department [2005] 1 W.L.R. 688 HL; Gillies v
Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2006] 1 W.L.R. 781 HL; El Farargy v
El Farargy [2007] EWCA Civ 1149; R. v Abdroikov [2007] 1 W.L.R. 2679 HL;
Virdi v Law Society [2010] EWCA Civ 100; De-Winter Heald v Brent LBC
[2010] 1 W.L.R. 990 CA (Civ Div); Belize Bank Ltd v Attorney General of
Belize [2011] UKPC 36; O’Neill (Charles Bernard) v HM Advocate [2013]
UKSC 36; Mitchell v Georges [2014] UKPC 43 (PC); Rasool v General
Pharmaceutical Council [2015] EWHC 217 (Admin); Almazeedi v Penner
[2018] UKPC 3; Archie v Law Association of Trinidad and Tobago [2018]
UKPC 23; R. (Short) v Police Misconduct Tribunal [2020] EWHC 385 (Admin).
45 Davidson v Scottish Ministers (No.2) [2004] H.R.L.R. 34 HL.
(Admin).
51 Miller v Health Service Commissioner for England [2018] EWCA Civ 144.
53 Lewis [2009] 1 W.L.R. 83; R. (Berky) v Newport City Council [2012] EWCA
Airport) Compulsory Purchase Order (1935) 153 L.T. 219; Jeffs v New Zealand
Dairy Production and Marketing Board [1967] 1 A.C. 551.
57 Justices Jurisdiction Act 1742.
58 Frome United Breweries Co Ltd v Bath Justices [1926] A.C. 586 HL.
59 Shaw [1882] 9 Q.B.D. 394. Compare Soane [1948] 2 All E.R. 815.
60 Local Government Act 1972 ss.82, 94 and 97. Similar provisions in licensing
legislation have been strictly construed, Barnsley Licensing Justices [1960] 2
Q.B. 167. It is unclear whether actual bias would have to be shown in order to
circumvent the statutory provisions, see Rawlings, “The Test for the Nemo
Judex Rule” [1980] P.L. 122, 125−126.
61 Nailsworth Licensing Justices [1953] 1 W.L.R. 1046.
70 Kaplan v UK (1981) E.C.C. 297; ISKCON v UK (1994) 76A D.R. 90. See,
however, W v UK (1988) 10 E.H.R.R. 29.
71 Crompton v UK (2010) 50 E.H.R.R. 36 at [71].
93 Albert (1983) 5 E.H.R.R. 533; R. (Kehoe) v Secretary of State for Work and
Pensions [2004] Q.B. 1378 CA (Civ Div).
94 Alconbury [2003] 2 A.C. 295 at [94]−[95].
105 Friends Provident Life & Pensions Ltd v Secretary of State for Transport,
108 Runa Begum v Tower Hamlets LBC [2002] 2 All E.R. 668, CA (Civ Div); R.
(Personal Representatives of Beeson) v Dorset CC [2002] EWCA Civ 1812.
109 Runa Begum v Tower Hamlets LBC [2003] 2 A.C. 430 HL.
118 Begum [2003] 2 A.C. 430 at [50]; R. (XH) v Secretary of State for the Home
121 R. (Wright) v Secretary of State for Health [2009] 1 A.C. 739 HL.
125 See also, Walsall MBC v Secretary of State for Communities and Local
Government [2013] EWCA Civ 370; R. (Derrin Brothers Properties Ltd) v
Customs and Revenue Commissioners [2016] 1 W.L.R. 2423 CA (Civ Div);
Poshteh v Kensington and Chelsea RLBC [2017] A.C. 624 SC; R. (XH) v
Secretary of State for the Home Department [2018] Q.B. 355 CA (Civ Div).
126 Medicaments [2001] 1 W.L.R. 700 at [35].
RULE-MAKING
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
15–001 i. We saw in an earlier chapter that people may be affected not only
through individualised adjudication, but also through the
application of predetermined rules. These rules must be applied to
the case at hand, but they will often be determinative of the result,
or will influence the outcome. This chapter considers the
procedural and substantive constraints on rule-making.
ii. The term rule-making is used here, instead of delegated
legislation, because the latter is but one species of the former. The
test of whether a rule is subject to legislative checks is one of
form. A primary statute that empowers a minister to make rules
will specify whether they are to be regarded as statutory
instruments for the purposes of the Statutory Instruments Act
1946. This Act contains the provisions for publication and
legislative scrutiny. There are two areas not touched by the
legislative controls: there are rules that are not expressed to be
statutory instruments and are therefore outside the 1946
legislation; and there are areas in which administrative
institutions develop rules, even if they are not expressly
empowered to do so.
iii. The making of detailed rules pursuant to a primary statute is a
common feature of all polities. There are a number of reasons
why this is so. First, the area may be technically complex, making
it difficult to set out all the permutations in the original statute.
Secondly, the subject-matter may be novel. Time may be needed
to experiment and to determine how the legislation is operating,
making delegated legislation the most appropriate tool. Thirdly,
the Executive may wish to implement the legislation at a later
stage, or to alter its detail.
We are concerned about rule-making, whatever form it takes, because
iv. our ideas of representative government tell us that legislative
norms achieve validation and legitimacy through consent by the
legislature. The existence of rules of a legislative character, other
than primary statutes, poses the problem of how this is to be
accomplished. That is the central concern of this chapter.
v. There are four broad mechanisms for the control of rule-making:
consultation, publication, legislative scrutiny and judicial review.
Consultation is designed to secure consideration of the rule by
interested parties prior to its passage. Publication ensures
knowledge of the rule. Legislative supervision takes the form of
parliamentary scrutiny. Consultation and
legislative scrutiny are general methods of control, and the focus
is on the merits of the rule as well as its technical legality.
Judicial supervision by way of contrast is ex post facto, particular
and focuses on the legality of the measure and not its merits. It
takes place when the rule has been made.1 It is dependent on an
individual invoking the court’s assistance and is in this sense
particular, and because of the constitutional position of our courts
they cannot attack the merits of the rule. Judicial decisions may
nonetheless impact on the making of future rules by prescribing
procedural standards, or by decisions on aspects of legality. The
judicial process is nonetheless unsuited to any generalised control
over the content of rules. For this, checks in the form of
consultation, legislative supervision and publication remain the
chief weapons.
vi. We will examine first the existing constraints on delegated
legislation and then take a closer look at the problem of
administrative rule-making.
A. History
15–002 Delegated legislation is not a new phenomenon.2 While the Statute of
Proclamations 1539 giving Henry VIII extensive powers to legislate
by proclamation proved to be a relatively short-lived measure, the
Statute of Sewers 1531 was the harbinger of a more general trend. The
latter vested the Commissioners of Sewers with full powers to make
laws and decrees concerning drainage schemes and the levying of rates
to pay for them.3
It was, however, the social and economic reforms of the 19th
century that was the origin of delegated legislation on the scale to
which we have now become accustomed. The Poor Law Amendment
Act 1834 vested the Poor Law Commissioners with power to make
rules for the management of the poor,4 and many other 19th-century
statutes contained power to make rules. After 1890 statutory rules and
orders were published annually. Between 1901–1914 the average
number of orders made was 1,349, which increased in the war years to
1,459.5
The advent of war increased not only the amount, but also the
complexity and generality of delegated legislation. The Defence of the
Realm Act 1914 gave the government power to make regulations for
securing public safety and the defence of the realm, a power liberally
used. Regulations were made on dog shows and the supply of cocaine
to actresses, neither of which was of prime concern to the war effort.
While the generality of the empowering provisions diminished
immediately after the First World War, it did not entirely wane. Thus,
the Emergency Powers Act 1920 gave the government extensive
powers to deal with peace-time emergencies.6 The advent of the
Second World War found the draftsmen ready with the Emergency
Powers (Defence) Acts 1939 and 1940. This legislation empowered
the Crown to make regulations for public safety, the defence of the
realm, the maintenance of order, the maintenance of supply and the
detention of persons whose detention appeared to the secretary of state
to be expedient in the interests of public safety, or the defence of the
realm.
While wide delegated powers could be accepted during war or civil
emergency, there was growing disquiet about their scope in peacetime.
Some, like Lord Hewart,7 felt that delegated legislation was out of
control. While controls over delegated legislation were desirable Lord
Hewart’s general attack upon such delegation was overplayed, as was
made apparent by the Committee on Ministers’ Powers. The
Committee was appointed to consider delegated legislation and the
making of judicial or quasi-judicial decisions by ministers.8 Its
conclusions were that delegated legislation was inevitable, but could
be improved by a clearer use of terminology; by defining the delegated
powers as clearly as possible; and by adequate facilities for publication
and legislative scrutiny.
C. Form
15–004 There are a bewildering variety of names for delegated legislation.
Orders in Council, rules, regulations, byelaws and directions all jostle
one another upon the statute book. The key to sanity is the realisation
that nothing turns upon the precise nomenclature.19 A word about the
differing devices is nonetheless necessary. Orders in Council tend to
be the more important pieces of subordinate legislation. The Executive
will draft the legislation, but it will be enacted as an Order of the Privy
Council. The authority to make such Orders will be derived from
statute.20 Regulations and rules are used widely to denote subordinate
law-making power. The power will normally be conferred upon a
minister of the Crown. Agencies and local authorities may also pass
regulations, rules or orders. Byelaws are commonly promulgated by
local authorities, but can also be made by agencies.21
“1(1) Where by this Act or any Act passed after the commencement23 of this Act power to
make, confirm, or approve orders, rules, regulations or other subordinate legislation is
conferred on His Majesty in Council or on any Minister of the Crown then, if the power is
expressed—
(a) in the case of a power conferred on His Majesty, to be exercised by Order in Council;
(b) in the case of a power conferred on a Minister of the Crown, to be exercisable by
statutory instrument,
any document by which that power is exercised shall be known as a ‘statutory instrument’
and the provisions of this Act shall apply thereto accordingly.”
The Act therefore provides for two different types of cases. All Orders
in Council made pursuant to a statutory power must be exercised by
statutory instrument.24 Other rules, regulations or orders must be
exercised by statutory instrument only when the particular statute
states that the power must be so exercised. The test is one of form.
Moreover, s.1(1)(b) only applies when the power is conferred on a
minister of the Crown. This is defined flexibly: if there is any question
whether any board, commissioner or other body on whom any such
power is conferred is a government department, or which minister of
the Crown is in charge of them, the question is to be referred to the
minister for the Civil Service.25 As s.1 makes clear, it is sufficient if
the minister of the Crown has power to make, confirm or approve the
subordinate legislation.26
E. Conclusion
15–022 The political dimension to consultation is to be welcomed. The very
fact that there is a centralised initiative that is regarded as binding on
government departments and agencies, even if it is not enshrined in
law, is a step forward. It can moreover be argued that this approach to
consultation avoids the excessive legalism that can be attendant upon
affording legally binding consultation rights. There is some force in
this argument.
The limits of the non-legal approach should, however, also be
borne in mind. Thus, there is evidence of room for improvement in the
way that consultation exercises are conducted in relation to, for
example, delegated legislation.106 Departments have considerable
discretion as to whether to undertake consultation pursuant to the 2018
Principles. There is moreover considerable variance in the use of
consultation across government departments.
We should moreover not forget that where the relevant statute does
not mandate consultation, claimants who are not consulted have no
legal redress, unless they can show a legitimate expectation. This will
be so even though they are affected significantly by the change in
policy.
The Greenpeace case107 demonstrates, however, the potential
implications of the legitimate expectations doctrine. If a government
department or agency formally announces that it will engage in
consultation on a particular policy matter then it is arguable that this
creates a legitimate expectation that such consultation will occur, and
allows the courts to adjudicate on the adequacy of the consultation
exercise. This could therefore open the door to judicial review of the
adequacy of consultation exercises that are undertaken pursuant to the
Consultation Principles.108 Niazi109 provides some support for this
view. It held that while the Code did not commit the government to
hold a consultation, the Code nonetheless applied when the
government chose to consult. Moreover, in EasyJet110 it was held that
that even where consultation was not a legal requirement, if it was
embarked on it had to be conducted properly and fairly. This principle
was endorsed in Rusal, where the Court of Appeal held that the
principles from Gunning as to the adequacy of the consultation would
be applied.111 It is nonetheless clear from Rusal that the public body
has discretion as to which options require consultation, and that the
adequacy of the consultation depended on the sufficiency of the
information in the context of the particular case.112
E. Delegation
15–029 The normal principles concerning delegation apply. These will be dealt
with below,138 and can be briefly summarised here. The general rule is
that a power must be exercised by the person on whom it is conferred.
A necessary qualification exists in the case of ministers, where
officials will exercise powers in the name of the minister. How far
delegation will be allowed will depend upon the nature of the power
and the circumstances of the case. In principle, legislative power
should be exercised by those in whom it is vested.139
F. Remedies
15–030 The presumption is that invalidity may be raised collaterally or
directly.140 This is particularly so when a criminal sanction may be
imposed pursuant to, for example, a byelaw which the individual
claims to be invalid. This can be challenged by way of defence to the
criminal action. Collateral challenge may also take the form of a
defence to a contract or tort action. There may, however, be instances
where the statute is held to indicate that a direct challenge by judicial
review is the only way to raise certain kinds of error.141
A statutory instrument may be attacked directly through the
declaration. Subject to the doubts voiced below,142 the direct action
should be brought as an application for judicial review for a
declaration or injunction. The prerogative orders of certiorari and
prohibition were traditionally regarded as applying only to judicial
functions and hence as being inapplicable to delegated legislation. The
inroads that have been made on this principle are considered below.143
The scope of locus standi to challenge secondary legislation is not
entirely clear. It has traditionally been assumed to be quite wide.
However, in Bugg it was held that individuals have no right to
complain of procedural defects in delegated legislation, unless they
have been prejudiced by the default.144 It is unclear whether this aspect
of the ruling survives the overruling of the case on other grounds. The
possibilities of an injunction to prevent a minister from proceeding
with making an instrument145 and the possible immunisation of
delegated legislation from judicial control146 are considered later.
15–032 The Commission made its views on the present arrangements for
publication and access to the law very clear150:
“At present the accessibility of statute law to users and the wider public is slow, inconvenient,
complicated and subject to several impediments. To put it bluntly, it is often very difficult to
find out what the text of the law is—let alone what it means. Something must be done.”
It recommended that as far as possible new laws should not come into
effect before they are published, and that the government should press
ahead with a Statute Law Database, which would facilitate the
publication and updating of statute law.151 There should, moreover, be
financial assistance provided to bodies such as Citizens Advice
Bureaus to help them to explain the law to the public.152
The Commission also addressed the problems that exist where a
primary statute is to be implemented by delegated legislation. It
suggested that the government should indicate the general nature of the
regulations it intended to introduce, and that this could be done by a
White Paper, or through an explanatory statement published with the
Bill.153
v. Consultation
B. Legal Status
15–042 The precise legal status of these rules differs depending on the type of
rule in question. Three points of general importance can, however, be
made.
First, the fact that a department or agency does not have express
power to make rules does not render them invalid. The capacity to
make such rules flows from the way in which they are allowed to
exercise their discretion. The courts have held that rules or policy
guidelines are valid, provided that they are not too rigidly applied, and
provided that certain other conditions are met.176
Secondly, the precise legal status of any particular rule can only be
discerned by examining the relevant statutory provisions. Thus
legislation may, for example, stipulate that a code, such as the
Highway Code, should have a certain degree of legal force in legal
proceedings, by identifying the weight to be given to a breach of the
code in any such action.177 Codes may also possess “indirect” legal
effect.178 Non-compliance with the provisions may provide a reason
why, for example, a television programme contractor should not have
its franchise renewed.179 Non-compliance with a code may also
furnish the rationale for the passage of a statutory instrument, the
object of which is to provide “full” legal force for the attainment of the
code’s objectives.180 It is not therefore surprising that the judiciary can
be divided as to the status of a rule, even within a particular area.181
Thirdly, even if a particular rule is not “related to” primary
legislation in any of the ways considered earlier, it may still have legal
consequences in a double sense: provided that the rule is not too
rigidly applied, it can be dispositive of a person’s case182; and the
existence of such a rule may, as we have seen, generate consultation
rights if the public body seeks to resile from the application of its
rule.183
C. Consultation
15–046 Consultation in the rule-making process is another option. The extent
to which statute and the common law presently provide consultation
rights has been considered earlier. Consultation is even more central
here than in the context of delegated legislation. The latter will at least
see the light of day through publication and will be subject to some
legislative scrutiny. If we decide that other forms of rule-making are
not suited to legislative scrutiny, then validation and control by a
different method becomes more important. Consultation through the
representation of interested parties can go some way to achieving this.
The previous discussion is relevant here, as are the Cabinet Office’s
Consultation Principles.
D. Judicial Control
15–047 There is clearly an overlap between judicial control and consultation
rights, since it is the judiciary that interprets such rights. However, the
judiciary have a role to play independent of the issue of consultation.
The courts’ role is as follows.190
First, the court will decide whether the code or circular is
susceptible to judicial review. For example, in Gillick191 Lord Bridge
stated that the general rule was that the reasonableness of advice
contained in non-statutory guidance could not be subject to judicial
review, but that there was an exception to this general rule. If a
government department promulgated advice in a public document that
was erroneous in law the court could correct this.
Secondly, in so far as codes, circulars, etc. are given certain
evidentiary or substantive force within legal proceedings, it is the
judiciary who will interpret the meaning they should bear.192 They will
also review the interpretation of a code where it has been applied by an
administrative agency.193 The intensity of any such review may vary
from area to area,194 and courts may disagree upon the appropriate
intensity of review in a particular area.195
Thirdly, the existence of an agency rule or code will generate an
obligation of consistency in relation to its application, such that it
should not be departed from without cogent reasons,196 and it might
lead to enforceable legitimate expectations.197
Finally, the courts can apply the tests of purpose, relevancy,
reasonableness and fettering of discretion to determine whether a rule
is within the ambit of the relevant empowering legislation, or whether
undue weight has been given to one circular and another has been
ignored.198 These tests are normally applied to the individual exercise
of discretion. Departmental or agency choices should not however, be
immune from such oversight merely because they assume the form of
a rule.199 The courts’ willingness to invalidate a rule on the grounds of,
for example, unreasonableness may differ from area to area. It appears
that the courts are more willing to consider this where the rule is made
in the context of a relatively clear statutory framework, against which
its vires and reasonableness can be judged.200 The court will then
pronounce upon the legality of the rule, even if it is non-statutory.
E. Conclusion
15–048 Quasi-legislation has been present for a considerable time. The term
was already current in the 19th century,201 and concern was expressed
70 years ago.202 Renewed interest is timely,203 given the importance of
the issue addressed. No single, simple solution is likely to be
forthcoming. There is a range of options, none of which is free from
difficulty. At the very least quasi-legislation should be published, and
rendered accessible to those affected by it.
1 Subject to the judicial role in enforcing compliance with the requirements of
consultation. As to whether the courts would intervene by injunction to prevent
the passage of delegated legislation, see Ch.26.
2 C. Allen, Law and Orders: An Inquiry into the Nature and Scope of Delegated
Legislation and Executive Powers in English Law, 3rd edn (London: Stevens,
1965), Ch.2; C. Carr, Delegated Legislation: Three Lectures (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1921); J. Griffith and H. Street, Principles of
Administrative Law, 5th edn (London: Pitman, 1973), Chs 2 and 3; R. Baldwin,
Rules and Government (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995); E. Page,
Governing by Numbers: Delegated Legislation and Everyday Policy Making
(Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2001).
3 The Commissioners of Sewers are also a good example of a body vested with
5 Allen, Law and Orders: An Inquiry into the Nature and Scope of Delegated
the 1955 rail strike, the 1966 seamen’s strike, the 1970 dock strike and the coal
strike of 1973.
7 Lord Hewart, The New Despotism (London: Ernest Benn, 1929).
(1932), Cmd.4060.
9 See https://www.legislation.gov.uk [accessed 26 January 2021].
10 Report of the Inquiry into the Export of Defence Equipment and Dual-Use of
Goods to Iraq and Related Prosecutions, HC Paper No.115 (Session 1995−96)
(the “Scott Report”).
11 G. Ganz, “Delegated Legislation: A Necessary Evil or a Constitutional
Outrage?”, in P. Leyland and T. Woods (eds), Administrative Law Facing the
Future: Old Constraints and New Horizons (Oxford: Blackwell, 1997), Ch.3.
12 J. King, “The Province of Delegated Legislation”, in E. Fisher, J. King and A.
Young (eds), The Foundations and Future of Public Law (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2020), pp.163–169.
13 T. Hickman, “The Use and Misuse of Guidance during the Coronavirus
Lockdown”, SSRN 3686857 https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?
abstract_id=3686857 [accessed 31 March 2021].
14 Ganz, “Delegated Legislation: A Necessary Evil or a Constitutional
Outrage?”, in Leyland and Woods (eds), Administrative Law Facing the Future:
Old Constraints and New Horizons (1997), pp.63−64.
15 King, “The Province of Delegated Legislation”, in Fisher, King and Young
(eds), The Foundations and Future of Public Law (2020), p.160.
16 Lord Rippon, “Henry VIII Clauses” (1989) 10 Stat. L. Rev. 205 and
“Constitutional Anarchy” (1990) 11 Stat. L. Rev. 184.
17 Ganz, “Delegated Legislation: A Necessary Evil or a Constitutional
Outrage?”, in Leyland and Woods (eds), Administrative Law Facing the Future:
Old Constraints and New Horizons (1997), pp.65−66; M. Freedland,
“Privatising Carltona: Part II of the Deregulation and Contracting Out Act”
[1995] P.L. 21, 22.
18 Human Rights Act 1998 s.10.
be used for a specific purpose, but their ideas were not implemented, Cmd.4060,
p.64.
20 The Privy Council can, however, pass legislation which is not subordinate
legislation on matters within the Royal Prerogative, provided that the power to
do so has not been restricted by statute, Attorney General v De Keyser’s Royal
Hotel [1920] A.C. 508 HL.
21 For special problems concerning byelaws see J. Garner, in B. Jones and K.
Thompson, Administrative Law, 8th edn (London: Butterworths, 1996),
pp.99−106. There are also devices known as Provisional Orders and Special
Procedure Orders (for the latter see the Statutory Orders (Special Procedure) Act
1945) which are intended to expedite the passage of private Acts, see Allen, Law
and Orders: An Inquiry into the Nature and Scope of Delegated Legislation and
Executive Powers in English Law (1965), pp.76−82.
22 Statutory Instruments Act 1946 (1946 Act) s.1(1A) makes provision for
Wales.
23 1 January 1948.
26 A third type of case is dealt with in the Statutory Instruments Act 1946 s.1(2),
which covers statutes passed before 1946, and provides the criterion as to when
rules passed pursuant to such statutes after 1946 should count as statutory
instruments. See further Statutory Instruments Regulations 1947 (SI 1948/1).
27 The Statutory Instruments (Production and Sale) Act 1996 was passed in order
to facilitate the contracting-out of the printing of statutory instruments.
28 1946 Act s.4(2).
30 General instruments are those in the nature of a public general Act, SI 1948/1
reg.4.
31 SI 1948/1 reg.5.
32 Two or more persons nominated by the Lord Chancellor and Speaker of the
37 R. v Sheer Metalcraft Ltd [1954] 1 Q.B. 586 QBD. See also, Jones v Robson
[1901] 1 Q.B. 673 QBD.
38 There is some doubt whether validity requires the instrument even to be laid
before Parliament, Starey v Graham [1899] 1 Q.B. 406 at 412, and in any event
not all instruments are required to be laid. However, when a statute provides that
a statutory instrument is to be laid before Parliament after being made the
general rule is that it must be laid before coming into operation, Statutory
Instruments Act 1946 s.4.
39 Allen, Law and Orders: An Inquiry into the Nature and Scope of Delegated
Locker [1948] 1 K.B. 349 CA at 369. Allen, Law and Orders: An Inquiry into
the Nature and Scope of Delegated Legislation and Executive Powers in English
Law (1965), pp.194−195, reaches no definite conclusion on the publication of
sub-delegated legislation.
41 See paras 15–043 to 15–051.
47 Allen, Law and Orders: An Inquiry into the Nature and Scope of Delegated
Legislation and Executive Powers in English Law (1965), p.123.
48 A. Adonis, Parliament Today, 2nd edn (Manchester: Manchester University
Press, 1993), p.113; Select Committee on Procedure, First Report: Delegated
Legislation, HC Paper No.48 (Session 1999−2000), paras 24−25.
49 This is the effect of s.5 of the 1946 Act which applies s.4 to the negative
resolution procedure.
50 The Report of the Hansard Society Commission on the Legislative Process,
Making the Law (1993), p.93.
51 1946 Act s.5.
52 Allen, Law and Orders: An Inquiry into the Nature and Scope of Delegated
Legislation and Executive Powers in English Law (1965), pp.128−133. Joint
Committee, Second Report: Delegated Legislation, HL Paper No.204, HC Paper
No.408 (Session 1972−73) recommended that the affirmative procedure should
be used for rules which substantially affect the provisions of primary legislation,
impose or increase taxation, or otherwise involve special considerations.
53 C. Himsworth, “The Delegated Powers Scrutiny Committee” [1995] P.L. 34.
standing orders as the result of the 2006 Act, pressed hard for the power to refer
a draft order for debate in a Delegated Legislation Committee, in order to
provide MPs with the opportunity to consider such draft orders that warranted
such scrutiny because of their political or legal significance, Regulatory Reform
Committee, Second Special Report 2006−07, Revised Standing Orders, HC
Paper No.385 (Session 2006−07); Regulatory Reform Committee, Government’s
Response, HC Paper No.610 (Session 2007−08).
83 Addendum to Standing Orders of the House of Commons (HMSO, 2020),
Orders 119, 143.
84 T. St J.N. Bates, “European Community Legislation before the House of
Commons” (1991) 12 Stat. L.R. 109; E. Denza, “Parliamentary Scrutiny of
Community Legislation” (1993) 14 Stat. L.R. 56;
https://committees.parliament.uk/committee/69/european-scrutiny-committee
[accessed 26 January 2021].
85 See, e.g. Select Committee on European Scrutiny, Twenty Seventh Report, HC
Paper No.34-xxvii (1999); European Union Scrutiny Committee, Third Report:
The European Union’s Annual Policy Strategy 2006, HC Paper No.34-iii (2005);
European Union Scrutiny Committee, Fourteenth Report, Aspects of the EU’s
Constitutional Treaty, HC Paper No.38-xiv-1 (2005); European Union Scrutiny
Committee, Fourteenth Report: 2008−09, Free Movement of Workers in the EU,
HC Paper No.324 (2009); European Scrutiny Committee, Eleventh Report,
Ukraine and Russia: EU Restrictive Measures, HC No. 219-xi (2014).
86 The European Union Scrutiny System in the House of Commons (2015).
Order 119:A. Energy and Climate Change; Environment, Food and Rural
Affairs; Transport; Communities and Local Government; Forestry Commission.
B. HM Treasury; Work and Pensions; Foreign and Commonwealth Office;
International Development; Home Office; Justice; and matters not otherwise
allocated. C. Business, Innovation and Skills; Children, Schools and Families;
Culture, Media and Sport; and Health.
88 See https://committees.parliament.uk/committee/176/european-union-
committee [accessed 26 January 2021]. There are six such subcommittees, which
deal with: EU financial affairs; EU internal market; EU external affairs; EU
Energy and Environment; EU Justice; EU Home Affairs.
89 See, e.g. Select Committee on the European Communities, Third Report, HL
Paper No.23 (1999), dealing with reforms to Comitology procedures; Select
Committee on the European Communities, Nineteenth Report, HL Paper No.101
(1999), dealing with the then forthcoming European Council meeting which was
the first such meeting to deal with justice and home affairs; European Union
Committee, Tenth Report: The Future Regulation of Derivatives Markets: Is the
EU on the Right Track? HL Paper No.93 (2010); European Union Committee,
Second Report: EU Data Protection Law: “A Right to be Forgotten?” HL Paper
No.40 (2014).
90 Bates v Lord Hailsham [1972] 1 W.L.R. 1373 Ch D at 1378; R. (BAPIO
Action Ltd) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2007] EWCA Civ
1139 at [43]−[46]; affirmed on different [2008] 1 A.C. 1003; R. (Hillingdon
LBC) v Lord Chancellor [2008] EWHC 2683 (Admin); R. (Niazi) v Secretary of
State for the Home Department [2008] EWCA Civ 755. The Rules Publication
Act 1893 was the nearest which we have ever come to providing any general
duty to consult.
91 Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1992 s.10(5)(b).
made on the record after opportunity for an agency hearing, s.553(c). This
criterion is narrowly construed, United States v Florida East Coast Railway, 410
US 224 (1973).
98 International Harvester Co v Ruckelshaus, 478 F 2d 615 (DC Cir 1973);
Portland Cement Assn v Ruckelshaus, 486 F 2d 375 (DC Cir 1973); Vermont
Yankee Nuclear Power Corp v Natural Resources Defence Council, Inc, 435 US
519 (1978); A. Aman and W. Mayton, Administrative Law, 3rd edn (St Paul,
MN: West, 2014), Chs 2−4.
99 See paras 1–030 to 1–034.
Consultation (2005).
102 Please see
https://webarchive.nationalarchives.gov.uk/20090609023708/http://www.berr.g
ov.uk/files/file47158.pdf [accessed 26 January 2021].
103 Cabinet Office, Consultation Principles,
https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/25
5180/Consultation-Principles-Oct-2013.pdf [accessed 26 January 2021].
104
https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/atta
chment_data/file/691383/Consultation_Principles__1_.pdf [accessed 26 January
2021]; see also the notice and comment provisions in art.GRP.7 of the Trade and
Cooperation Agreement between the EU and the UK [2020] OJ L444/14.
105 House of Lords Secondary Legislation Scrutiny Committee, Seventeenth
108 The court was influenced in Greenpeace by the fact that the UK was a
signatory to the Aarhus Convention, which required the government to provide
opportunities for public participation in relation to the environment. This
consideration however, affected the issue of whether it was open to the
government to grant or withhold consultation in this area. It does not affect the
point being made in the text that if the government does promise consultation
then this can trigger a legitimate expectation allowing the court to adjudicate on
the adequacy of the consultation.
109 Niazi [2008] EWCA Civ 755.
111 R. (United Company Rusal Plc) v London Metal Exchange [2015] 1 W.L.R.
1375 at [25] CA (Civ Div); R. v Brent LBC, Ex p. Gunning (1985) 84 L.G.R.
168.
112 See also, R. (Law Society) v Lord Chancellor [2018] EWHC 2094 (Admin);
R. (Pharmaceutical Services Negotiating Committee) v Secretary of State for
Health [2018] EWCA Civ 1925.
113 R. (C) v Secretary of State for Justice [2009] Q.B. 657 CA (Civ Div).
117 R. v Halliday [1917] A.C. 260 HL; Liversidge v Anderson [1942] A.C. 206
HL.
118 R. v Secretary of State for Social Security, Ex p. Joint Council for the Welfare
293.
120 R. (Asif Javed) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2002] Q.B.
129 CA (Civ Div); R. (MD (Gambia)) v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2011] EWCA Civ 121.
121 Attorney General v Wilts United Dairies Ltd (1922) 38 T.L.R. 781.
122 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Leech (No.2) [1994]
Q.B. 198 CA (Civ Div); Joint Council for the Welfare of Immigrants [1997] 1
W.L.R. 275 CA (Civ Div) at 293; R. v Lord Chancellor, Ex p. Witham [1998]
Q.B. 575 QBD; Chester v Bateson [1920] 1 K.B. 829.
123 R. (Unison) v Lord Chancellor [2017] UKSC 51.
124 Secretary of State for the Home Department v Pankina [2011] Q.B. 376 CA
(Civ Div).
125 A v HM Treasury [2010] 2 A.C. 534 SC; relying on R. v Secretary of State
for the Home Department, Ex p. Simms & O’Brien [2000] 2 A.C. 115 HL.
126 See Chs 19 and 21.
127 Attorney General for Canada v Hallett & Carey Ltd [1952] A.C. 427; R. v
Rylatt and J. Tomlinson, “Delegated Legislation, Brexit and the Courts” [2017]
J.R. 320.
129 Kruse v Johnson [1898] 2 Q.B. 91 QBD. See also, Munro v Watson (1887)
57 L.T. 366; Repton School Governors v Repton Rural DC [1918] 2 K.B. 133
CA; Sparks v Edward Ash Ltd [1943] 2 K.B. 223.
130 McEldowney v Forde [1971] A.C. 632 HL.
132 Percy v Hall [1997] Q.B. 924 CA (Civ Div). The Court of Appeal preferred
the formulation by Lord Denning in Fawcett Properties Ltd v Buckingham CC
[1961] A.C. 636 HL at 677−678, to that of Mathew J in Kruse v Johnson [1898]
2 Q.B. 91 QBD at 108.
133 See Ch.19.
139 See Hawke’s Bay Raw Milk Products Co-operative Ltd v New Zealand Milk
Board [1961] N.Z.L.R. 218. In the First World War sub-delegation of legislative
power was not expressly authorised, but the Emergency Powers (Defence) Act
1939 allowed further delegation. This could produce as many as five tiers of
authority; a veritable wedding cake of regulations.
140 Boddington v British Transport Police [1999] 2 A.C. 143 HL.
143 See Ch.26. Mandamus seems to be subject to no such limitations and has
(1993), p.109.
152 Hansard Society Commission on the Legislative Process, Making the Law
(1993), p.113.
153 Hansard Society Commission on the Legislative Process, Making the Law
(1993), p.112.
154 Hansard Society Commission on the Legislative Process, Making the Law
(1993), p.93.
155 Hansard Society Commission on the Legislative Process, Making the Law
158 Hansard Society Commission on the Legislative Process, Making the Law
(1993), p.91.
159 Hansard Society Commission on the Legislative Process, Making the Law
(1993), p.90.
160 The Procedure Committee also recommended the use of a departmental
select committee for very important orders, coupled with the two-stage
procedure which applies in the case of deregulation orders, Procedure
Committee Delegated Legislation para.9.
161 Hansard Society Evidence to the House of Commons Liaison Committee,
The Effectiveness and Influence of the Select Committee System (April 2019),
https://assets.ctfassets.net/rdwvqctnt75b/7f5fhuTXLAERnn7Iol3Kzs/b8f0e62a95
dea7192fade6301f04c3b3/Hansard_Society_Commons_Liaison_Committee_DS
Cs_review_April_2019.pdf [accessed 26 January 2021].
162 Hansard Society Commission on the Legislative Process, Making the Law
(1993), p.42.
163 Hansard Society, The Devil is in the Detail: Parliament and Delegated
Legislation (2014).
164 Select Committee on Procedure, Delegated Legislation, HC Paper No.152
(Session 1995−96). See also, Select Committee on Modernisation of the House
of Commons, First Report, HC Paper No.190 (Session 1997−98), para.83.
165 Select Committee on Procedure, First Report: Delegated Legislation, HC
Paper No.48 (Session 1999−2000).
166 Select Committee on Procedure, Delegated Legislation, paras 33−36; Select
para.54.
169 House of Lords Merits of Statutory Instruments Committee, Twenty-ninth
(1987), pp.97−98.
176 See Ch.18.
(1987), pp.16−18.
179 Communications Act 2003 ss.319 and 325.
(1993), para.382.
190 Ganz, Quasi-Legislation: Recent Developments in Secondary Legislation
198 JA Pye (Oxford) Estates Ltd v West Oxfordshire DC and the Secretary of
State for the Environment [1982] J.P.L. 557.
199 See Ch.18.
200 Gillick [1986] A.C. 112; Royal College of Nursing of the UK v Department of
Health and Social Security [1981] A.C. 800 HL.
201 A. Todd, On Parliamentary Government in England (1867−1869), Vol.I,
p.288; H. Parris, Constitutional Bureaucracy (1969), pp.193−194.
202 R. Megarry, “Administrative Quasi-Legislation” (1944) 60 L.Q.R. 125.
203 Baldwin and Houghton “Circular Arguments: The Status and Legitimacy of
ERROR OF LAW
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
16–001 i. A public body is given authority to decide on a particular issue. If
a furnished tenancy exists the public body may adjudicate on the
rent. If an employee is unfairly dismissed she may be awarded
compensation. All such grants of authority may be expressed in
the following manner: if X exists the public body may or shall do
Y. X may consist of a number of different elements, factual, legal
and discretionary. An individual contends that the public
authority has made an error of law in the meaning of the term
employee, which is part of the X question.
ii. Judicial review traditionally dealt not with the correctness of the
findings, but with their legality. For a full rehearing of the merits,
appeal, a creature of statute, is required. The inherent power of
the courts to review the findings of a public body has, by way of
contrast, been concerned with ensuring that the decision-maker
remains within its jurisdiction. The distinction between review
and appeal will be considered more fully in due course.
iii. If judicial review is drawn too narrowly then the spectre is raised
of the public body becoming a power unto itself. The Albert Hall
is deemed to be a furnished tenancy and a rent set for it.
However, if review is drawn too broadly it will approximate to
appeal on law. The findings made by the public body will be
binding only if judged right by the reviewing court.
iv. The conceptual basis for judicial review over the conditions of
jurisdiction was examined above.1 In essence control over
jurisdiction was premised on the assumption that the courts
ensured that the public body remained within the boundaries of
what Parliament intended it to examine by ensuring that the
statutory conditions were present. However, this gave little
guidance as to the extent of control.
v. The courts from the 16th to the 20th century used either the
collateral fact doctrine, or the commencement theory of limited
review, to determine the extent of control. Both theories were
premised on a distinction between jurisdictional and non-
jurisdictional issues, although they drew the divide differently.
The assumption was that a jurisdictional error of law was
reviewable, but a non-jurisdictional error of law was not, unless
the error of
law was on the face of the record. The divide between
jurisdictional and non-jurisdictional error was, however, always
fraught with difficulty for reasons explained below.
vi. The modern approach, which dates from the latter part of the 20th
century, rejected the jurisdictional/non-jurisdictional divide. The
starting assumption is that all errors of law are subject to judicial
review and that the reviewing court will substitute judgment for
that of the primary decision-maker on such issues.
vii. This approach avoids the difficulties of the jurisdictional/non-
jurisdictional divide. There are, however, difficulties with the
modern approach. It is based on the twin assumptions that
reviewing courts should substitute judgment on all legal issues
and that this is the only way to maintain control over the organs
of the administrative state. The courts have more recently
signalled variation in the test for review primarily in the context
of decisions made by tribunals.
viii. The final part of the chapter will consider the broader policy
arguments concerning the scope of review, and will examine
experience in some other common law jurisdictions, notably the
USA and Canada.
The elements in the bracket represent the need for time certain, intent
of the parties, amount of fixture and fittings, etc. The premise
underlying Gordon’s argument was that scope or subject-matter meant
simply the assertion of the existence of a furnished tenancy by the
public body. Any error concerning a, b, c, etc. would, at most, be an
error within jurisdiction. What Gordon sought to do, therefore, was to
avoid the pitfalls of the collateral fact doctrine by erecting a wall
between the words furnished tenancy and the bracket. The court was
not allowed to consider the meanings assigned to those elements,
except to find a non-jurisdictional error. Gordon’s argument was
therefore premised on a formal separation between the term furnished
tenancy, which went to scope, and the elements within the bracket
which constituted it. An error relating to scope would be jurisdictional
and thus, if the wrong term was used instead of furnished tenancy, a
court should intervene. Mistakes concerning elements within the
bracket were, however, non-jurisdictional at most.
The words furnished tenancy are, however, only a shorthand
description of the presence of the elements, factual and legal, within
the bracket, and therefore to
regard an error relating to them as jurisdictional, but mistakes
concerning a, b, c or d as not, makes little sense. People may disagree
as to whether, for example, an assault has in fact occurred. But to
argue from this that we can divorce the term furnished tenancy, or
assault, from the elements within the bracket does not follow. It would
mean that an assault could exist without any of the elements which
comprise that term. No one would, for example, have to be placed in
fear for their bodily safety. This would have fundamental
consequences for the way we use legal language. The words furnished
tenancy or assault would be empty vessels into which anything could
be poured. The formal incantation of such words would suffice for the
public body to remain within the scope of its authority.
It might be argued that the content of the bracket constituting the
term furnished tenancy, employee or assault should be for the relative
opinion of the public body. This might happen in a particular area.
There is nothing to prevent the legislature preferring a public body’s
interpretation of the term “employee”, to that of the reviewing court.
Gordon’s argument is however dependent upon showing not just that
this might happen, but that it must happen. There is no reason why this
should be so.
i. Parliamentary intent
16–011 Legal issues are “given” Gould argued because Parliament intended
them to be decided by the ordinary courts. This argument could be
regarded as a rebuttable presumption, but then the inexorable logic of
the theory would break down. It could not be said that legal rules were
always to be determined by the ordinary courts. Insofar as there is a
rebuttable presumption that all questions of law should be for the
ordinary courts this is not to be derived from an allegedly logical a
priori argument that all legal questions are “given”. The argument
must therefore be based upon an irrebuttable presumption as to
parliamentary intent. This might be derived from constitutional theory
or judicial practice.
There are difficulties with the argument based on constitutional
theory. Parliament is sovereign and in theory it can give the task of
determining the legal meaning of a term to, for example, a tribunal or
inferior court. It manifests an explicit intent to do so when it places a
privative clause in a statute empowering a public body. It is true that
the courts have construed such clauses narrowly to mean that
jurisdictional errors are not protected.6 It is equally true that Lord
Diplock stated7 that the normal presumption is that Parliament intends
questions of law to be decided by the courts, but his Lordship did not
state that this was an irrebuttable presumption. This presumption has
been repeated in Page, but their Lordships were clear that this was not,
in all cases, to be viewed as an irrebuttable presumption. The fact that
it is not an irrebuttable presumption was reinforced more recently in
Cart8 and Jones.9 It should, moreover, be emphasised that allowing a
public body to give the meaning to a statutory term does not entail the
absence of judicial control, since the courts could still review the
rationality of the public body’s interpretation.
There are also difficulties with the argument based on judicial
practice. It could be argued that Gould’s irrebuttable presumption
finds support in the fact that the judiciary makes the ultimate decision
on questions of law. However, the courts have not for the last 350
years acted on a logic that renders all questions of law jurisdictional.
To the contrary, review differed over time, but it is indisputable that
the judiciary accepted that non-jurisdictional errors of law could exist.
A number of courts gave substantial latitude to the decision-maker.
The judicial approach has altered in recent years, as the courts have
taken authority over most
legal questions. It is, however, difficult to build an irrebuttable
presumption on 50 years’ judicial practice, given the contrary position
that prevailed for 350 years hitherto.10
16–012 It would not, said Gould, be possible to talk of error of law at all
unless such elements had a “given” meaning, because such language
implied a departure from a criterion laid down by the courts. This is to
confuse cause and effect. When the legal meaning of a term is
determined by the courts, then the phrase “error of law” implies a
deviation from that standard. It cannot provide the reason why all
matters of law should have an interpretation provided by the ordinary
courts. It is possible for the legal meaning to be provided by the public
body, subject to control through rationality review.
The possibility of the latter occurring is not contrary to the rule of
law. Many legal terms have a number of possible meanings, each of
which is reasonable. Words or phrases such as “furnished tenancy”,
“successor in title”, “course of employment”, “trade dispute”, “boat”
and “resources”, are open to a spectrum of reasonable meanings. The
statement that the public body made an “error of law” means that the
construction placed on the term by the court is preferred to that of the
public body. Parliament might, however, prefer the particular
construction adopted by the specialist public body to that given by the
generalist court. The courts can maintain control through review of the
rationality of the public body’s interpretation, rather than simply
substituting their own preferred meaning.
Fourthly, there is a duality latent in the meaning given to the ultra vires
principle by Lord Browne-Wilkinson.20 One reading sees it as being
based on legislative intent, in the sense that Parliament intended that
all errors of law should be open to challenge. Thus, his Lordship stated
that Parliament “had only conferred the decision-making power on the
basis that it was to be exercised on the correct legal basis”,21 with the
consequence that misdirection in law when making the decision
rendered it ultra vires. A different reading of the ultra vires principle is
found later in the judgment. Ultra vires is equated with the general law
of the land, which includes the common law. On this view the ultra
vires principle is no
longer based exclusively on legislative intent. It simply becomes the
vehicle through which the common law courts develop their controls
over the administration22:
“[T]he constitutional basis of the courts’ power to quash is that the decision of the inferior
tribunal is unlawful on the grounds that it is ultra vires. In the ordinary case, the law
applicable to a decision made by such a body is the general law of the land. Therefore, a
tribunal or inferior court acts ultra vires if it reaches its conclusion on a basis erroneous
under the general law.”
A. Impact of Anisminic
16–021 The passing of the Victorian age, significant in so many spheres,
brought no great change in this area. There is no magic in the divide
between the 19th and 20th centuries so far as the scope of judicial
review is concerned. There were still cases advocating only limited
review.32 These were the heirs of Brittain and Bolton. There were also
decisions which adopted a more interventionist attitude,33 using the
collateral or preliminary fact doctrine. These were the descendants of
Bunbury. It was still difficult to determine which matters should be
characterised as collateral or preliminary, and it was admitted that
there could be errors of law within jurisdiction which, if they appeared
on the face of the record, would be quashed.34
The scope of review was markedly affected by Anisminic.35 The
plaintiff was an English company that owned property in Egypt prior
to 1956. In November 1956 the property was sequestrated by the
Egyptian authorities, and in April 1957 the sequestrator sold the
property to TEDO, an Egyptian organisation. Anisminic put pressure
on their customers not to buy ore from TEDO, as a result of which an
agreement was reached in November 1957 whereby the plaintiff sold
the mining business to TEDO for £500,000. In February 1959 a Treaty
was made between the UK and the United Arab Republic, which
provided for the return of sequestrated property, except property sold
between October 1956 and August 1958. A sum of £27,500,000 was
paid by the United Arab Republic in final settlement of claims to
property which was not being returned. Orders in Council were passed
setting out the conditions for participation in the fund. The Foreign
Compensation Commission (FCC) found that Anisminic did not
qualify. The Foreign Compensation (Egypt) (Determination and
Registration of Claims) Order 196236 stated in art.4(1)(b)(ii) that the
applicant and the successor in title should be British nationals on 31
October 1956 and 28 February 1959. The FCC interpreted this to mean
that they had to inquire whether there was a successor in title and, if
so, whether the person qualified under art.4(1)(b)(ii). TEDO was a
successor in title according to the FCC and was not a British national
at the relevant dates, therefore the plaintiff failed. The plaintiff claimed
that the nationality of the successor in title was irrelevant where the
claimant was the original owner and sought a declaration that the
determination was a nullity.
The House of Lords37 found for the plaintiffs. Lord Reid stated
that jurisdiction in a narrow sense meant only that the tribunal should
be entitled to enter on the inquiry. There were, however, a number of
ways in which, having correctly begun the inquiry, the tribunal could
do something which rendered its decision a nullity. Misconstruction of
the enabling statute so that the tribunal failed to deal with the question
remitted to it, failure to take account of relevant considerations, and
asking the wrong question were, said Lord Reid, examples of this.38
The plaintiff’s construction of successor in title was correct and the
decision by the FCC was a nullity. Lord Reid’s judgment significantly
broadened the scope of review. A court, if it wished to interfere, could
always characterise an alleged error as having resulted from asking the
wrong question, or having taken account of irrelevant considerations.
Lord Pearce and Lord Wilberforce reached their conclusions in
similar way.39 The tribunal had a limited authority, and it was for the
reviewing court to keep it within its assigned area. It was for the court
to determine the true construction of a statute delineating that area.
Lack of jurisdiction could arise in various ways, such as absence of a
condition precedent to the tribunal’s jurisdiction, irrelevancy, and
asking the wrong question. Lord Pearson agreed that if there had been
an error it would have been jurisdictional, but found no such
mistake.40 Lord Morris dissented. He realised the implications of the
majority judgments and pointed out that the Order “bristled” with
words requiring statutory construction. It could not, said his Lordship,
be the case that any misconstruction of any of these terms would
involve a jurisdictional error.41 Three points can be made about the
case.
16–022 First, “asking the wrong question” or “irrelevancy” tell one that an
error has been made, not whether the error was jurisdictional.42 The
step from “asking the wrong question”, to the error being regarded as
jurisdictional, presupposes that any “condition” to the exercise of
jurisdiction becomes jurisdictional. The assumption is that questions of
law are for the ordinary courts. The tribunal must give what the
reviewing court regards as the correct meaning to the statutory terms,
before the tribunal can be properly within the sphere of its jurisdiction.
Concepts such as “asking the wrong question” simply function as the
vehicle through which the court substitutes its views on the meaning of
the statutory term for that of the tribunal. This reasoning reduces the
division between jurisdictional and non-jurisdictional error to
vanishing point.
Secondly, the language of judicial intervention should not conceal
the issue in cases such as Anisminic, which is the meaning of an X
condition. The language of “asking the wrong question” and the like is
simply an indirect way for the court to express the conclusion that it
believes that a different construction of the term should be substituted
for that adopted by the agency.
Thirdly, notwithstanding the broad potential for jurisdictional
error, Lord Reid reaffirmed the continued existence of errors of law
within jurisdiction.43 This is difficult to reconcile with the general
tenor of his judgment. Later case law has drawn out the implications of
Anisminic more fully, and held that the case eradicated the distinction
between jurisdictional and non-jurisdictional error.
16–030 The traditional case law on judicial review prior to Anisminic provided
little guidance as to the divide between law and fact. This was because
the test for judicial review was the collateral fact doctrine or the
commencement theory of limited review. Both theories applied
equally to law and fact: provided for example that the court
categorised the issue as collateral it would substitute judgment,
whether the issue was one of fact or law.74
The shift in Page to the idea that all errors of law are jurisdictional
meant that the distinction between law and fact became more
significant. Much of the literature on the law/fact distinction arose
from cases concerned with appeal, which is commonly only available
on questions of law. The case law has been discussed above.75 There
are three themes in the literature.
16–031 First, there can be analytical disagreement as to whether a question
should be deemed to be one of law or fact.76 Thus the case law and the
academic commentary display diversity of opinion on whether the
meaning given to a
statutory term such as employee, trade, boat or successor in title
should always be regarded as a question of law. The answer on
analytical grounds is probably in the affirmative.77
Secondly, there can be disagreement as to the conclusions that
follow from attachment of the labels law and fact. Thus, some courts
have reasoned that if an issue is deemed to be one of law then this
must inevitably lead to substitution of judgment by the court;
conversely where a statutory term is open to a spectrum of reasonable
interpretations some courts have held that it must be a question of
fact.78 Both propositions are contestable: judicial review over issues of
law may take the form of rationality review, it does not have to lead to
substitution of judgment; and a legal issue does not cease to be such
simply because the term in question is open to a range of possible
meanings.
Thirdly, the courts have not always adopted an analytic approach.
The labels law and fact have been attached depending on whether the
courts wished to intervene or not. This is exemplified by Lord
Hoffmann’s dictum that “there are questions of fact; and there are
questions of law as to which lawyers have decided that it would be
inexpedient for an appellate tribunal to have to form an independent
judgment.”79 This approach informed the ruling in Jones.
ii. Jones
16–032 In Jones the claimant was injured when his car was hit by a lorry that
swerved to avoid a person who stepped into the road. His claim for
compensation was rejected by the Criminal Injuries Compensation
Authority because there had been no crime of violence, which was the
trigger for payment under the scheme. The claimant contended that the
crime of grievous bodily harm had been committed, but this was
rejected by the First-tier Tribunal (FTT) because the deceased’s aim
was to commit suicide and therefore there was no mens rea for the
criminal offence. This decision was challenged by way of judicial
review before the Upper Tribunal (UT),80 which upheld the FTT’s
decision. The UT’s decision was then challenged by way of appeal,
which is available on a point of law, to the Court of Appeal and then to
the Supreme Court.81 The Supreme Court rejected the claim. It is
important to disaggregate two linked issues that arose in the case, both
of which concerned the law/fact distinction albeit in different ways.
First, there was the issue as to whether the tribunal should be
accorded some interpretive leeway in the legal meaning of “crime of
violence”. The Supreme Court held that where the interpretation and
application of a specialised statutory scheme had been entrusted by
Parliament to the new tribunal system, it was for
the UT to develop structured guidance on the use of expressions that
were central to the scheme, so as to reduce the risk of inconsistent
results by different panels at the First-tier level. The development of a
consistent approach to the expression “crime of violence” within the
statutory scheme was primarily for the tribunals, not the appellate
courts. The extent of the leeway accorded to the tribunal is not entirely
clear from the judgments. Thus, Lord Hope gave interpretive leeway in
part because of the tribunal’s relative expertise and in part because he
believed that issues concerning “crimes of violence” would often be
factual, while recognising that the legal meaning/application of other
offences might admit of only one legal answer.82 Lord Carnwath
framed the issue more broadly. He emphasised that the distinction
between law and fact could be affected by policy and expediency, and
that relevant factors in this regard included the relative competence of
the tribunal and court. He was, moreover, willing to give interpretive
weight to a tribunal’s conclusion on an issue of law.83 How much
interpretive weight the courts are willing to give, and what test of
review is brought to bear in such instances, remains to be seen.84
Secondly, the law/fact distinction was also relevant in relation to
the determination of when an appeal could lie to the ordinary courts
from the tribunal, and also from one the FTT to the UT. The Supreme
Court held that a pragmatic approach should be taken to the dividing
line between law and fact, so that the expertise of tribunals at the FTT
and that of the UT could be used to best effect. An appeal court should
not venture too readily into this area by classifying as law issues that
were best left for determination by the specialist appellate tribunals.
H. Summary
16–033 i. The courts have the power to review any error of law, and will in
general no longer use distinctions between jurisdictional and non-
jurisdictional error. When an error has been made the court will
normally substitute its view for that of the body subject to review.
There appears to be no distinction between administrative
authorities and inferior courts in this respect.85 There are five
qualifications to this basic proposition.
ii. The error of law must be relevant or material in the sense
discussed above.
iii. The court will not necessarily substitute its judgment for that of
the agency where having defined the meaning of the statutory
term, the particular interpretation is still inherently imprecise. In
such instances the court will only intervene if the application of
the term is so aberrant as to be irrational.86
If the institution subject to review is the Upper Tribunal and there have
iv.
been two unsuccessful appeals within the tribunal regime
then judicial review to the ordinary courts will only be available
where the claimant can show that the claim raises an important
point of principle or practice, or where there is some other
compelling reason for the reviewing court to give permission for
judicial review.87
v. If the institution subject to review is a tribunal within the
Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007 then it will be
accorded interpretive leeway when making decisions on issues of
law, and the reviewing court will take pragmatic considerations
into account, including relative expertise, when deciding on the
division between law and fact.88 The standard of review that is
applicable in such cases is unclear. The interpretive leeway
accorded to tribunals must be bounded by something akin to a
rational basis test of the kind that is used in the USA and Canada.
It is, moreover, unclear how far this interpretive leeway will
apply to other decision-makers.
vi. The courts continue to regard the grant of a remedy as
discretionary, and will not necessarily grant the remedy merely
because an error of law has been committed during, for example,
an inquest.89
J. Statutory Review
16–035 A number of statutes contain provisions allowing review only within a
limited period, commonly six weeks. The effect of the six-week time
limit will be considered in the context of exclusion of remedies.99
What is considered here is the effect of a specific statutory formula
which allows challenge within the six-week period on certain grounds.
The statute will normally establish two grounds of review. These are
that the order impugned is not within the powers of the Act, or that any
requirement of the Act has not been complied with. If the latter is the
ground of attack, there is often the additional requirement that the
interests of the applicant have been substantially prejudiced.
There has been considerable difference of judicial opinion as to the
construction of these clauses. If such statutory clauses were ever
intended to reflect the common law, and this is not clear, the
distinction between the two heads of review now makes little sense
given the expansion of non-statutory review. Moreover, the very
existence of the two heads of control has exacerbated the problem as
judges sought to find a meaning for each of the terms.
This can be seen in Smith100 where there were differing views as to
the meaning of “not within the powers of this Act”. Lord Reid101 held
that bad faith and unreasonableness were outside the statute
completely and therefore could be impugned even after six weeks. A
similar result was reached by Lord Somervell.102 The majority,
however, decided that challenge for fraud was precluded after six
weeks. Lord Morton construed the statutory terms extremely narrowly
as permitting challenge only if express statutory requirements were
violated.103
16–036 The sensible interpretation would be to read the phrase, “not within the
powers of this Act” so as to include any traditional head of ultra vires,
and there is authority for this position.104 Later courts have given the
formula a broad interpretation. It has been held to encompass not only
traditional forms of jurisdictional error, but also no evidence, and any
error of law.105 The puzzles of East Elloe will therefore probably be
quietly forgotten.
Despite this broad formulation, the courts continued to use the
second limb of the formula: “a requirement of the Act has not been
complied with”.106 It may well be best that this should be confined to
the challenge of directory provisions, allowing a court to quash an
order if non-compliance with such provisions has caused substantial
prejudice to the applicant.
i. Constitutional principle
ii. Certainty
16–043 It might be felt that the approaches considered above would produce
uncertainty. It is important in this respect to distinguish between two
different senses of uncertainty.
First, uncertainty might relate to the difficulty of predicting which
test for review, rational basis or rightness would be adopted in any
particular case. This objection can be conceded. If the courts
rigorously applied the idea that all errors of law are jurisdictional,
defined the word law in a purely analytical way so that it embraced
any application of a statutory term and substituted judgment on the
meaning of that term, then a claimant would be clear that the courts
would intervene using that standard. This certainty would mean
reducing the competence of the initial decision-maker to a mere fact-
finder, denying any weight to its opinion on the interpretation of the
constituent parts of the X question, and embroiling the courts in the
minutiae of all the elements which comprise the conditions of
jurisdiction.
A second meaning of certainty relates to the probability that the
court would uphold the initial decision-maker’s findings, which is a
practical concern for the claimant. It may be difficult for an
experienced adviser to predict whether the reviewing court will accept
that the interpretation of a term adopted by the initial decision-maker
was right. There would, by way of contrast, be greater certainty in
those areas covered by the rational basis part of the test, since this is a
narrower standard of review. There is a greater chance that the original
decision will be upheld as having a rational basis, even if the
interpretation is not the precise one which the court itself would have
chosen.
iii. Criteria
16–044 There are two key issues involved in the application of variable
intensity of review. The first is the type of criterion used to distinguish
between the standards of review. The US criterion focuses
predominantly on whether Congress has spoken to the meaning of the
contested issue. If it has the court substitutes its judgment for that of
the agency; if it has not then rationality review is used instead. Many
difficulties in the US case law stem from different judicial
interpretations as to whether Congress has spoken to the meaning of
the contested term. While this should be a relevant factor, it should not
be the only consideration that conditions the test for review. It is
indeed somewhat paradoxical that in the pre-Chevron case law the
courts used a wider range of factors in determining the applicable
standard of review. This coheres with the approach in Cart,137 Eba138
and Jones139 where the Supreme Court justified the interpretive
leeway given to tribunals by looking at a range of factors, including
relative expertise, and the nature of the contested issue considered by
the tribunal.
The second issue is the type of body that is subject to the variable
test for review. Thus, for example, the Chevron approach in the USA
applies across the spectrum of administrative institutions broadly
conceived. In the UK the reasoning in Cart and Jones has been crafted
for tribunals, and it is clear that the court-like nature of such bodies,
combined with their expertise, was central to the judgments. It remains
to be seen whether the court is willing to apply such reasoning to other
parts of the administrative state, and if so which.
1 See Ch.1.
was, at most, one within jurisdiction. It did not relate to the “kind” of case into
which the FCC could inquire. No indication is given as to why the error was
categorised in this way. See, further, the examples given in D. Gordon, “The
Relation of Facts to Jurisdiction” (1929) 45 L.Q.R. 458.
4 Gordon, “The Relation of Facts to Jurisdiction” (1929) 45 L.Q.R. 458;
“Observance of Law as a Condition of Jurisdiction” (1931) 47 L.Q.R. 386, 557;
“Conditional or Contingent Jurisdiction of Tribunals” (1959−1963) 1 U.B.C.L.
Rev. 185; “Jurisdictional Fact: An Answer” (1966) 82 L.Q.R. 515; “What did
the Anisminic Case Decide?” (1971) 34 M.L.R. 1. See also P. Hogg, “The
Jurisdictional Fact Doctrine in the Supreme Court of Canada; Bell v Ontario
Human Rights Commission” (1971) 9 Osgoode Hall L.J. 203.
5 B. Gould, “Anisminic and Jurisdictional Review” [1970] P.L. 358; H.
Rawlings, “Jurisdictional Review after Pearlman” [1979] P.L. 404.
6 See Ch.28.
7 Re Racal Communications Ltd [1981] A.C. 374 HL; O’Reilly v Mackman
[1983] 2 A.C. 237 HL.
8 R. (Cart) v Upper Tribunal [2011] UKSC 28.
13 Lord Slynn and Lord Mustill dissented on other grounds, but agreed with the
16 See para.16–040.
20 P. Craig, “Ultra Vires and the Foundations of Judicial Review” [1998] C.L.J.
63, 79−80; Laws, “Illegality: The Problem of Jurisdiction”, in Supperstone and
Goudie (eds), Judicial Review.
21 Page [1993] A.C. 682 at 701.
26 Bunbury (1853) 9 Ex. 111 at 140; R. v Badger (1856) 6 El. & Bl. 137; R. v
Stimpson (1863) 4 B. & S. 301; Ex p. Vaughan (1866) L.R. 2 Q.B. 114; Elston v
Rose (1868–69) L.R. 4 Q.B. 4; Ex p. Bradlaugh (1878) 3 Q.B.D 509.
27 R. v Bolton (1841) 1 Q.B. 66 KBD at 72−74. See also, Brittain v Kinnaird
(1819) 1 B. & B. 432 at 442; Ackerley v Parkinson (1815) 3 M. & S. 411;
Wilson v Weller (1819) 1 B. & B. 57; Fawcett v Fowlis (1827) 7 B. & C. 394; R.
v Justices of Cheshire (1838) 8 Ad & E 398; Re Baines (1840) Cr. & Ph. 31;
Cave v Mountain (1840) 1 M. & G. 257.
28 See Bolton (1841) 1 Q.B. 66; Brittain (1819) 1 B. & B. 432; Ackerley (1815)
3 M. & S. 411; Wilson (1819) 1 B. & B. 57; Fawcett (1827) 7 B. & C. 396;
Justices of Cheshire (1838) 8 Ad & E 398; Re Baines (1840) Cr. & Ph. 31; Cave
(1840) 1 M. & G. 257; Mould v Williams (1844) 5 Q.B. 469; Allen v Sharp
(1848) 2 Ex 352; R. v Buckinghamshire JJ (1843) 3 Q.B. 800; R. v Wilson
(1844) 6 Q.B. 620; R. v Wood (1855) 5 El. & Bl. 49; Revell v Blake (1871–72)
L.R. 7 C.P. 300; Usill v Hales (1878) 3 C.P.D. 319; R. v Whitfield, Ex p. Hillman
(1885) 15 Q.B.D 122; R. v Justices of the Central Criminal Court (1886) 17
Q.B.D 598.
29 Lord Denman CJ decided R. v Bolton (1841) 1 Q.B. 66 and Governors of
37 Anisminic [1969] 2 A.C. 147. The case was also concerned with privative
clauses, Ch.28.
38 Anisminic [1969] 2 A.C. 147 at 171.
904−905. See also R. v Furnished Houses Rent Tribunal for Paddington and St.
Marylebone, Ex p. Kendal Hotels Ltd [1947] 1 All E.R. 448 at 449; R. v
Paddington North and St. Marylebone Rent Tribunal, Ex p. Perry [1956] 1 Q.B.
229 at 237−238.
43 Anisminic [1969] 2 A.C. 147 at 174.
Unions v Minister for the Civil Service [1985] A.C. 374 HL at 410−411.
54 R. v Registrar of Companies, Ex p. Central Bank of India [1986] Q.B. 1114
59 The visitor was regarded as being in a special position in this respect, since he
was not applying the general law, but a special domestic legal regime.
60 Page [1993] A.C. 682 at 702.
69 Cart [2011] UKSC 28; Eba v Advocate General for Scotland [2011] UKSC
29; Privacy International [2020] A.C. 491 SC at [81]–[97], [132]; J. Bell,
“Rethinking the Story of Cart v Upper Tribunal and its Implications for
Administrative Law” (2019) 39 O.J.L.S. 74.
70 Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007 s.13(1) and (8)(c).
Secretary of State for the Home Department [2011] EWCA Civ 988; R. (Amir) v
Secretary of State for the Home Department [2012] EWHC 4229 (Admin); JD
(Congo) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2012] EWCA Civ 327;
A v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2013] EWHC 1272 (Admin);
Thakrar v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2018] UKUT 336.
73 R. (Jones) v First-tier Tribunal [2013] UKSC 19.
74 The courts might have felt less inclined to intervene in relation to matters
which were purely factual, but the juridical basis of intervention was never
premised on the need to distinguish between law and fact. The only real occasion
for the distinction was when the court intervened to quash an error of law on the
face of the record.
75 See paras 9–022 to 9–024; W. Wilson, “A Note on Fact and Law” (1963) 26
M.L.R. 609; and “Questions of Degree” (1969) 32 M.L.R. 361; E. Mureinik,
“The Application of Rules; Law or Fact?” (1982) 98 L.Q.R. 587; J. Beatson,
“The Scope of Judicial Review for Error of Law” (1984) 4 O.J.L.S. 22; T.
Endicott, “Questions of Law” (1998) 114 L.Q.R. 292; R. Williams, “When is an
Error not an Error? Reform of Jurisdictional Review of Error of Law and Fact”
[2007] P.L. 793; L. Jaffe, “Judicial Review: Question of Law” (1955) 69 Harv.
L.R. 239; and “Judicial Review: Question of Fact” (1955) 69 Harv. L.R. 1020; J.
Grant, “Reason and Authority in Administrative Law” [2017] C.L.J. 1.
76 Moyna v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2003] 1 W.L.R. 1929 HL.
77 See paras 9–022 to 9–024; and the articles, Wilson, “A Note on Fact and
Law” (1963) 26 M.L.R. 609; and “Questions of Degree” (1969) 32 M.L.R. 361;
Mureinik, “The Application of Rules; Law or Fact?” (1982) 98 L.Q.R. 587; R. v
Barnet LBC, Ex p. Shah (Nilish) [1983] 2 A.C. 309 HL; ACT Construction Ltd v
Customs and Excise Commissioners [1981] 1 W.L.R. 49; affirmed [1981] 1
W.L.R. 1542. For a different view, see Endicott, “Questions of Law” (1998) 114
L.Q.R. 292 who argues that there can be an analytical approach which does not
lead to this conclusion. This argument, however, explicitly builds pragmatic
considerations into the analytical approach.
78 Edwards v Bairstow [1956] A.C. 14 at 33−36.
79 Moyna [2003] 1 W.L.R. 1929 at [44]; Lawson v Serco [2006] ICR 250 at [34].
A.C. 374 HL; Lee v Ashers Baking Co Ltd [2018] UKSC 49; but was
disapproved in Privacy International [2019] UKSC 22 at [65]–[68], [74], [154]–
[162].
86 South Yorkshire Transport [1993] 1 W.L.R. 23.
and Francis Ltd v Patents Appeal Tribunal [1959] A.C. 663 HL; R. v
Knightsbridge Crown Court, Ex p. International Sporting Club (London) Ltd
[1982] Q.B. 304 QBD; R. v Chertsey JJ, Ex p. Franks [1961] 2 Q.B. 152 DC.
95 Anisminic [1969] 2 A.C. 147.
104 Webb v Minister of Housing and Local Government [1965] 1 W.L.R. 755 HL
at 770 (Lord Denning MR). See cases, Ashbridge Investments Ltd v Minister of
Housing and Local Government [1965] 1 W.L.R. 1320 CA; Coleen Properties
Ltd v Minister of Housing and Local Government [1971] 1 W.L.R. 433 CA (Civ
Div); Gordondale Investments Ltd v Secretary of State for the Environment
(1971) 70 L.G.R. 158 CA (Civ Div); Peak Park Joint Planning Board v
Secretary of State for the Environment (1980) 39 P. & C.R. 361 QBD.
105 Ashbridge [1965] 1 W.L.R. 1320; Coleen Properties [1971] 1 W.L.R. 433;
Gordondale (1971) 70 L.G.R. 158; Peak Park (1980) 39 P. & C.R. 361.
106 Gordondale (1971) 70 L.G.R. 158; Miller v Weymouth and Melcombe Regis
Corp (1974) 27 P. & C.R. 468 QBD.
107 P. Craig, “Jurisdiction, Judicial Control and Agency Autonomy”, in I.
22, 43.
110 South Yorkshire Transport [1993] 1 W.L.R. 23 at 29. Their Lordships
decided on the meaning of the open-textured statutory term, even though the
primary decision-maker had very considerable expertise. The latitude afforded
the primary decision-maker was at a second-order level: where the meaning
given by the court was itself inherently open-textured then it would only
intervene if the agency’s decision was irrational.
111 R. (CENTRO) v Secretary of State for Transport [2007] EWHC 2729
(Admin).
112 Eba [2011] UKSC 29; R. (Wiles) v Social Security Commissioners [2010]
EWCA Civ 258.
113 Cart [2011] UKSC 28.
116 Chevron USA Inc v NRDC, 467 US 837 (1984). There is a vast literature on
Chevron, some of the leading works are considered in P. Craig, “Judicial Review
of Questions of Law: A Comparative Perspective”, in S. Rose-Ackerman and P.
Lindseth (eds), Comparative Administrative Law, 2nd edn (Cheltenham: Edward
Elgar, 2017), Ch.23. See also, P. Daly, “Deference on Questions of Law” (2011)
74 M.L.R. 694; M. Aronson, “Should We Have a Variable Error of Law
Standard?”, in M. Elliott and H. Wilberg (eds), The Scope and Intensity of
Substantive Review, Traversing Taggart’s Rainbow (Oxford: Hart Publishing,
2015), Ch.10.
117 Chevron, 467 US 837 (1984) at 842−844.
118 National Labour Relations Board v Hearst Publications, Inc, 322 US 111
(1944).
119 National Labour Relations Board, 322 US 111 (1944) at 126.
123 MCI Telecommunications Corp v American Telephone & Telegraph Co, 512
US 218 (1994); Brown v Gardner, 513 US 115 (1994); Food and Drug
Administration v Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corp, 529 US 120 (2000).
124 Brown & Williamson Tobacco, 529 US 120 (2000).
S.C.R. 982.
129 Dunsmuir v New Brunswick [2008] 1 S.C.R. 190.
655.
133 P. Daly, “The Vavilov Framework and the Future of Canadian Administrative
ERROR OF FACT
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
17–001 i. The previous chapter considered review for error of law. We saw
that the divide between issues of law and fact could be
contentious.1 This chapter considers the test for judicial review of
questions of fact and how far the courts will review evidentiary
material.
ii. It was surprising that until recently the courts had not addressed
the criteria for judicial review and appeal of fact in a principled
manner. Text writers advocated expansion and consolidation of
this head of review.2 The Court of Appeal in Ev Secretary of State
for the Home Department3 attempted to bring order into this area,
and the issue was also addressed by the House of Lords in
Croydon.4
iii. The discussion begins by considering the situations covered by
mistake of fact. The meaning of fact for the purposes of judicial
review is under-explored, and the discussion sheds light on the
different meanings that the term mistake of fact can bear.
iv. This is followed by an overview of the earlier case law. The
rationale for the confusion in the case law will be explained, and
was evident in the existence of broad and narrow views
concerning the scope of review for error of fact.
v. The discussion then shifts to analysis of the reasoning in the E
case, and the four-part test for review of fact established by the
Court of Appeal. This decision was not however, referred to by
the House of Lords in the Croydon case, and the four-part test
was not used. The best “legal fit” between the two authorities will
be analysed.
vi. The E case has nonetheless been much cited and applied in
subsequent case law dealing with a variety of subject-matter. The
four parts of the test are examined in the light of this subsequent
case law, as is the judicial approach to the admission of fresh
evidence to prove the existence of a factual error.
vii. The chapter concludes by considering the limits of judicial
intervention in relation to factual claims, with particular
emphasis on the respective roles of the court and initial decision-
maker in relation to factual findings.
B. Narrow View
17–006 The narrower view was that judicial review for error of fact only
existed in limited circumstances. It was accepted that review could lie
for jurisdictional fact.18 These were facts that related to the existence
of the public body’s power over the relevant area. Thus, as seen in the
previous chapter, a statute will always stipulate certain preconditions
for the exercise of the agency’s power. In a simple
paradigm it will state that if an employee is injured at work then
compensation can or should be granted. The statutory conditions may
be factual, legal or discretionary in nature. A classic factual
precondition is that a person should be of a particular age to qualify for
a benefit; a simple legal stipulation is provided by the meaning of the
term employee; a discretionary precondition is where the statute
provides that if a minister has reasonable grounds to believe that a
person is a terrorist then he may be detained. Claims of factual error
can arise in all three types of case. It might be argued that the agency
was mistaken about the applicant’s age, because it confused the
applicant with a different person. It might be claimed that the agency
misapplied the legal meaning of the term employee to the applicant’s
case because of a factual error. It might be contended that the minister
did not have sufficient factual material to sustain a reasonable ground
for believing that the applicant was a terrorist.
In addition to review for jurisdictional fact, it was accepted that
review was also available where the fact was the only evidential basis
for the decision,19 or where the fact related to a matter that had,
expressly or impliedly, to be taken into account. However, leaving
aside special considerations in relation to planning and asylum, there
was no general right to challenge the decision of a public body on fact
alone.20
C. Broad View
17–007 There was also authority for a broader view of review for error of fact.
Thus, Scarman LJ in Tameside held that misunderstanding or
ignorance of an established and relevant fact could be a ground for
review.21 Lord Wilberforce in Tameside stated that if a judgment
required, before it could be made, the existence of certain facts, then
while the evaluation of those facts was for the minister, the court could
inquire whether the facts existed and had been taken into account,
whether the judgment was made on a proper self-direction as to those
facts, and whether irrelevant facts had been taken into account.22
There were also planning cases in which the courts intervened where
there was factual error.23
More recent support for the broader view was evident in other
cases. In the CICB case24 Lord Slynn was willing to characterise a
failure to take account of certain factual evidence as justifying judicial
review on the grounds of unfairness. It was Lord Slynn once again
who alluded to the courts’ powers over fact finding
in Alconbury,25 stating that they could quash for misunderstanding or
ignorance of an established and relevant fact.26 Lord Clyde noted that
fact could be subject to review where the decision-maker was mistaken
or where account had been taken of irrelevant facts,27 while Lord
Nolan was willing to countenance review of fact at least where the
factual finding had no justifiable basis.28
17–008 It was this uncertainty that prompted the Court of Appeal in the E
case29 to take stock and attempt to bring some order to this area. The
decision of the Court of Appeal arose out of two joined cases
concerned with immigration and asylum.
A. The Facts
17–009 In one of the cases E, an Egyptian national, who had lived outside
Egypt all his life, came to the UK in 2001 from Bangladesh and
claimed asylum. He argued that if he returned to Egypt he would be at
risk of detention and torture, because he was a sympathiser with the
Muslim Brotherhood and his family were involved in its activities. His
application for asylum was refused by the Home Secretary, and this
was confirmed by the adjudicator and by the IAT. The decision was
based in part on the factual assumption that membership of the Muslim
Brotherhood would not render him liable to persecution, more
especially since his involvement had been at a low level. E sought to
rely on subsequent evidence in the form of two reports revealing that
membership of the Muslim Brotherhood would lead to a serious risk of
detention and torture. The IAT refused permission to appeal to the
Court of Appeal, stating that the IAT could only decide a case on the
evidence before it at the time of hearing, and the reports relied on by E
were not before the tribunal when it made its decision.
In the other case R was an Afghan national who came to the UK in
2001 and claimed asylum because he was a convert from Islam to
Christianity, and would face persecution if he was returned home. His
claim was refused because the adjudicator and the IAT felt that he did
not have a well-grounded fear of persecution, since the Taliban were
no longer in power. The IAT hearing was held in April 2003, but the
decision was not promulgated until August 2003. R sought permission
to appeal to the Court of Appeal. He claimed that the IAT should have
taken into account a report from April 2003, which indicated that
apostates were still at risk of persecution or death. The IAT refused
permission to appeal, holding that the relevant report was not available
until May 2003, and that it decided the case on the material available
at the time.
B. Judicial Review, Appeal and Fact
17–010 The essence of E and R’s claim was that the IAT had erred by not
admitting the relevant evidence, and that this could be appealed even
where, as under this statutory regime, the right of appeal was limited to
questions of law. Carnwath LJ gave the judgment of the Court of
Appeal.
The judgment proceeded on the assumption that there should be no
material difference as to whether the case arose as an application for
judicial review, or an appeal on a point of law. There had been a
general assimilation of the various forms of review, statutory and
common law, such that “it has become a generally safe working rule
that the substantive grounds for intervention are identical”.30 The main
practical dividing line was between instances where appeal or review
was accorded on fact and law, and those where it was confined to law.
The key issue was whether a decision reached on an incorrect basis of
fact could be challenged on an appeal that was limited to points of law.
appellant (or his advisers) must not have been responsible for the mistake. Fourthly, the
mistake must have played a material (not necessarily decisive) part in the Tribunal’s
reasoning.”
A. Jurisdictional Error
17–019 Whether there should be different tests for review of jurisdictional fact
and other factual error will be considered later.66 The existing law, as
exemplified by the Croydon case,67 is, however, predicated on the
continued existence of the distinction in the following sense: if the
claimant can show that the error concerns a jurisdictional fact then the
court will review the determination and will not require the claimant to
prove the four criteria in the E case. In other instances the claimant
must show that the four criteria in the E case have been met. It is to
these that we now turn.
17–024 The requirement that the fact should be uncontentious may, however,
relate to the extent to which it is crucial and reliable to the initial
determination, rather than complexity.83 This appears to be the
meaning accorded to it by Brooke LJ in Shaheen.84 He expressed
concern about a prior case, Cabo Verde,85 where the court held that
there was a mistake of fact because the IAT had made its asylum
determination on the basis that the applicant was badly treated in
Angola, whereas subsequent evidence indicated that he was in
Portugal at the relevant time. In Shaheen Brooke LJ expressed his
concern in the following terms86:
“We seem to be in danger, in this area, of slipping from the identification of an uncontentious
and objectively verifiable fact such as the prior existence of crucial and reliable documentary
evidence into a willingness to re-open appeals for error of law merely because a witness has
been subsequently found who could have made a witness statement challenging the factual
conclusions that were reached by the original decision-maker in ignorance of such
evidence.”
Controls over fact and evidence should not lead to decisions being
challenged on questionable or spurious grounds. It is nonetheless
necessary to disaggregate two related, albeit distinct, issues.
The first is whether the fact or evidence is uncontentious and
objectively verifiable, which clearly entails that it is reliable, and
perhaps also that it is crucial to the initial determination, although this
is captured by the fourth limb of
the test. The second issue is whether fresh evidence should be
admitted. If the fresh evidence could with reasonable diligence have
been obtained when the initial determination was made, or is not
credible, it should be rejected on these grounds. If however this is not
so then it should be admitted to prove the initial mistake and the matter
remitted to the primary decision-maker.
9. CONCLUSION
17–036 The doctrine concerning review for error of fact has been clarified by
recent case law, but issues still require resolution. It is important to be
mindful of the respective roles of courts and initial decision-makers in
deciding whether a factual error has occurred. There are, as seen
above, well-developed tests for maintaining judicial control over facts
without the courts thereby assuming the role of primary fact-finder.
The divide between issues of law and fact is also important, and
reference should be made to the previous discussion of this issue.121
2 P. Craig, Administrative Law, 5th edn (London: Sweet and Maxwell, 2003),
pp.502−510; S. de Smith, Lord Woolf and J. Jowell, Judicial Review of
Administrative Action, 5th edn (London: Sweet and Maxwell, 1995), paras
5−091 to 5−096; H.W.R. Wade and C. Forsyth, Administrative Law, 8th edn
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp.266−268, 278−285.
3 E v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2004] Q.B. 1044 CA (Civ
Div).
4 R. (A) v Croydon LBC [2009] 1 W.L.R. 2557 SC.
6 Nichols v Walker (1632−1633) Cro. Car. 394; Milward v Caffin (1778) 2 Black
W. 1330; Lord Amherst v Lord Somers (1788) 2 T.R. 372; Weaver v Price
(1832) 3 B. & Ad. 409; Governors of Bristol Poor v Wait (1834) 1 A. & E. 264;
Fernley v Worthington (1840) 1 Man. & G. 491.
7 Romain Kibiti v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2000] Imm. A.R.
13 Secretary of State for Education and Science v Tameside MBC [1977] A.C.
1014 HL.
14 E [2004] Q.B. 1044; See also, A v Secretary of State for the Home Department
16 Bulent Polat v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2003] EWCA Civ
1059.
17 T. Jones, “Mistake of Fact in Administrative Law” [1990] P.L. 507; M. Kent,
“Widening the Scope of Review for Error of Fact” [1999] J.R. 239; P. Craig,
“Judicial Review, Appeal and Factual Error”, [2004] P.L. 788; C. Forsyth and E.
Dring, “The Final Frontier: The Emergence of Material Error of Fact as a
Ground for Judicial Review”, in C. Forsyth, M. Elliott, S. Jhaveri, A. Scully-Hill
and M. Ramsden (eds), Effective Judicial Review: A Cornerstone of Good
Governance (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), Ch.15.
18 Nichols (1632−1633) Cro. Car. 394; Milward (1778) 2 Black W. 1330; Lord
Amherst (1788) 2 T.R. 372; Weaver (1832) 3 B. & Ad. 409; Wait (1834) 1 A. &
E. 264; Fernley (1840) 1 Man. & G. 491; Eleko [1931] A.C. 662.
19 R. v Secretary of State for Education, Ex p. Skitt [1995] C.O.D. 270; R. v
Bedwelty Magistrates, Ex p. Williams [1997] A.C. 225 HL.
20 R. v London Residuary Body 24 July 1987; Wandsworth LBC v A [2000] 1
W.L.R. 1246 CA (Civ Div).
21 Tameside [1977] A.C. 1014 at 1031−1032.
295 HL at [53].
26 This was relevant in deciding whether the courts’ powers were sufficient for
38 CPR 52.11(2).
54 See para.17–020.
55 R. (CJ) v Cardiff CC [2011] EWCA Civ 1590; R. (S) v Croydon LBC [2011]
EWHC 2091 (Admin); R. (AS) v Ealing LBC [2012] EWHC 356 (QB); R. (AA
(Afghanistan)) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2013] UKSC 49;
R. (Bluefin Insurance Ltd) v Financial Ombudsman Service Ltd [2014] EWHC
3413 (Admin); R. (GE (Eritrea)) v Secretary of State for the Home Department
[2014] EWCA Civ 1490.
56 Bubb v Wandsworth BC [2011] EWCA Civ 1285; R. (AA (Sudan)) v Secretary
of State for the Home Department [2017] 1 W.L.R. 2894 CA (Civ Div).
57 Bubb [2011] EWCA Civ 1285 at [52].
58 See para.16–005.
68 R. (Iran) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2005] EWCA Civ
982, asylum; R. (Ross) v West Sussex Primary Care Trust [2008] EWHC 2252
(Admin), primary care; MS (Democratic Republic of Congo) v Secretary of State
for the Home Department [2009] EWCA Civ 744, asylum; R. (Lunt) v Liverpool
City Council [2009] EWHC 2356 (Admin), disability discrimination; Historic
Buildings and Monuments Commission for England (English Heritage) v
Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government [2009] EWHC 2287
(Admin), planning; R. (Connolly) v Havering LBC [2009] EWCA Civ 1059,
planning; R. (Nukajam) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2010]
EWHC 20 (Admin), human rights; Jobson v Secretary of State for Communities
and Local Government [2010] EWHC 1602 (Admin), planning; Cox v Secretary
of State for Communities and Local Government [2010] EWHC 104 (Admin),
planning; H v Parole Board [2011] EWHC 2081 (Admin), parole; Hiam v
Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government [2014] EWHC 4112
(Admin), planning; R. (SO (Eritrea)) v Barking & Dagenham LBC [2014]
EWCA Civ 1486 (social welfare); R. (Gopikrishna) v Office of the Independent
Adjudicator for Higher Education [2015] EWHC 207 (Admin), higher
education; R. (Watt) v Hackney LBC [2016] EWHC 1978 (Admin), planning; R.
(D) v DPP [2017] EWHC 1768, prosecutorial discretion; Johnson v Windsor and
Maidenhead RBC [2019] EWHC 160 (Admin), planning; R. (DPP) v Sunderland
Magistrates Court [2018] 1 W.L.R. 2195 DC, magistrates; R. (BACI Bedforshire
Ltd) v Environment Agency [2019] EWCA Civ 1962, environment; R. (Michael)
v Governor of Whitemoor Prison [2020] EWCA Civ 29, prisons.
69 Town and Country Planning Act 1990 s.288.
70 Kaydanyuk v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2006] EWCA Civ
368 at [20]−[21].
71 R. (L) v Wandsworth LBC [2006] EWHC 694 (Admin).
72 CICB [1999] 2 A.C. 330; R. (Michael) v Governor of Whitemoor Prison
[2020] EWCA Civ 29.
73 W v Staffordshire CC [2006] EWCA Civ 1676 at [25]−[26]; Phelps v First
Secretary of State [2009] EWHC 1676.
74 Richmond Upon Thames LBC v Kubicek [2012] EWHC 3292 (QB).
75 See para.17–002.
79 See Skitt [1995] C.O.D. 270; Williams [1997] A.C. 225; London Residuary
Body, 24 July 1987; A [2000] 1 W.L.R. 1246. Compare R. v Nat Bell Liquors Ltd
[1922] 2 A.C. 128 at 151−154.
80 See cases Moore [1965] 1 Q.B. 456, 488; Ashbridge Investments [1965] 1
W.L.R. 1320; Coleen Properties [1971] 1 W.L.R. 433; General Electric [1975]
I.C.R. 1; Ostler [1977] Q.B. 122; Mahon [1984] A.C. 808; Williams [1997] A.C.
225; Reid [1999] 2 W.L.R. 28; Allinson [1894] 1 Q.B. 750; Lee Showmen’s
Guild of Great Britain [1952] 2 Q.B. 329.
81 Tameside MBC [1977] A.C. 1014 at 1047; Mahon [1984] A.C. 808 at 821,
832−833; Alconbury [2003] 2 A.C. 295 at [53]; CICB [1999] 2 A.C. 330.
82 See para.17–007.
84 Shaheen v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2005] EWCA Civ
88 Montes v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2004] EWCA Civ 404;
R. (Morton) v Parole Board [2009] EWHC 188 (Admin); Hiam [2014] EWHC
4112 (Admin).
89 Speers v Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government [2014]
EWHC 4121 (Admin); Ecotricity Next Generation Ltd v Secretary of State for
Communities and Local Government [2015] EWHC 189 (Admin); R. (Wilson) v
Prime Minister [2019] 1 W.L.R. 4174 CA (Civ Div).
90 E [2004] Q.B. 1044 at [85]; Bagdanavicius [2003] EWCA Civ 1605 at [72];
JG (Jamaica) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2015] EWCA Civ
215.
91 Ladd [1954] 1 W.L.R. 1489.
93 Montes [2004] EWCA Civ 404; AM (Iran) v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2006] EWCA Civ 1813; Kabir v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2019] EWCA Civ 1162.
94 R. (Gungor) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2004] EWHC
2117 (Admin).
95 E [2004] Q.B. 1044 at [73]−[75], [77].
101 Citizens to Preserve Overton Park v Volpe, 401 US 402, 415 (1971).
106 Moyna v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2003] 1 W.L.R. 1929;
108 A. Aman and W. Mayton, Administrative Law, 2nd edn (St Paul, MN: West
110 P. Craig, EU Administrative Law, 3rd edn (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2018), Ch.15.
111 Associated Industries of New York State Inc v US Dept of Labor, 487 F 2d
342, 350 (2d Cir 1973); Association of Data Processing Service Organizations,
Inc v Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System, 745 F 2d 677, 683 (DC
Cir 1984).
112 Allentown Mack Sales and Service v National Labor Relations Board, 522
US 359 (1998).
113 Turgut [2001] 1 All E.R. 719.
121 See paras 9–022 to 9–024, 16–030, 16–032, 16–039, 16–043 and 16–044.
CHAPTER 18
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
18–001 i. We saw in the previous chapter that all grants of power to public
bodies could be broken into two parts: if X exists, you may or
shall do Y. This chapter is principally concerned with judicial
constraints on the Y level. Discretion may also exist on the X
level, in the conditions which determine the scope of the
tribunal’s jurisdiction.
ii. This is not the place for a jurisprudential analysis on the nature of
discretion.1 Discretion for the purposes of this and related
chapters will be defined as existing where there is power to make
choices between courses of action or where, even though the end
is specified, a choice exists as to how that end should be reached.
There are three principal ways in which such discretion can be
controlled. This and the following chapters deal with these topics.
iii. First, the courts can impose controls on the way in which the
discretion has been exercised, with the objective of ensuring that
there has been no failure to exercise the discretion. Limitations on
delegation, and on the extent to which an authority can proceed
through policies or rules, are the two principal controls.
iv. Secondly, there can be constraints to ensure that there has been no
misuse of power. The judiciary can impose substantive limits on
the power of an administrative body to ensure that it does not act
illegally, outside the remit of its power.
v. Thirdly, the courts can develop principles to make sure that the
administrative authority does not misuse its power by acting
irrationally, thereby placing substantive limits on the power of
that authority.
vi. The traditional rationale for judicial intervention has been
examined earlier.2 When the courts intervene to control the X
factor they do so in purported fulfilment of the legislative will, by
delineating the boundaries of one institution’s powers from that
of another. A public body adjudicating on furnished tenancies
cannot trespass on the territory of a different body dealing with
unfurnished tenancies. The rationale for judicial intervention on
the Y level has always been more indirect. The authority is within
its assigned area, in the sense that it is, for example, adjudicating
on furnished
tenancies. The issue now is as to the rationale for judicial control
over, for example, the fair rent that should be charged for such
premises. Traditional theory posited the link with sovereignty and
the ultra vires doctrine in the following manner: Parliament only
intended that such discretion should be exercised on relevant and
not irrelevant considerations, or to achieve proper and not
improper purposes. Any exercise of discretion which contravened
these limits was ultra vires. The ease with which the judicial
approach can be reconciled with sovereignty demonstrates the
limits of the ultra vires concept as an organising principle for
administrative law. Almost any such controls can be formally
squared with legislative intent.
vii. It is in part because of this that the more modern conceptual
rationale bases judicial intervention on rather different grounds.
Legislative intent and the will of Parliament are still regarded as
relevant, but the judicial controls are seen as being as much
concerned with supplementing legislative intent as with
implementing it. On this view, the judicial role is to fashion and
enforce principles of fair administration.3 The implications will
become apparent in the following discussion.
2. DELEGATION
A. General Principles
18–002 The general starting point is that if discretion is vested in a certain
person it must be exercised by that person. This principle finds its
expression in the maxim delegatus non potest delegare. The maxim is
however expressive of a principle and not a rigid rule. Whether a
person other than that named in the empowering statute is allowed to
act will depend on the statutory context. The nature of the subject-
matter, the degree of control retained by the person delegating, and the
type of person or body to whom the power is delegated, will be taken
into account.4
Thus in Allingham,5 the court held that it was unlawful for a
wartime agricultural committee, to which powers concerning
cultivation of land had been delegated by the Minister of Agriculture,
to delegate to an executive officer the choice of which particular fields
should be subject to a certain type of cultivation. In Ellis,6 a condition
imposed by the licensing committee of a county council that it would
not allow films to be shown unless certified for public exhibition by
the Board of Film Censors, was held invalid as involving a transfer of
power to the latter.7 There are numerous other instances where the
courts found that an unlawful delegation occurred.8
The type of power that is delegated will be important, though not
conclusive. Thus, the courts are reluctant to allow further delegation of
delegated legislative power.9 Similarly, the courts are reluctant to
sanction the delegation of judicial power. In Barnard,10 the National
Dock Labour Board had lawfully delegated powers, including those
over discipline, to the local Boards. The latter purported to delegate
these to the port manager who suspended the plaintiff from work. This
was held to be unlawful, the court stressing that a judicial function
could rarely be delegated. The House of Lords in Vine reached the
same conclusion, though emphasising that there was no absolute rule
that judicial or quasi-judicial functions could never be delegated. The
golden rule was always to consider the entire statutory context.11
H. Statutory Power
18–010 Power to delegate will often be granted by statute, a prominent
example of this being the Local Government Act 1972 authorising
local authorities to discharge any of their functions by committees,
officers, or acting jointly with other local authorities.51 Similar powers
exist in other areas such as planning.
A. General Principles
18–012 A public body endowed with statutory discretionary powers cannot
adopt a policy or rule that allows it to dispose of a case without any
consideration of the merits of the individual applicant. In Corrie52 the
court quashed a decision refusing the applicant permission to sell
pamphlets at certain meetings. The decision had been taken in reliance
upon a council bylaw that nothing was to be sold in parks. Darling J
stated that each application must be heard on its merits. There could
not be a general resolution to refuse permission to all.53 This does not
preclude the public body from having any general policy/rule. This is
allowed, provided there is due consideration of the merits of an
individual case, and the policy is intra vires.54
Most discretionary power is accorded by statute. The position in
relation to common law discretionary power has been treated
differently by the courts. In Elias,55 the claimant who had been
interned by the Japanese was denied access to the UK government’s ex
gratia compensation scheme, because only civilian internees who had
been born in the UK, or one of whose parents or grandparents had
been born in the UK, were eligible to receive payment. She argued, by
analogy with the case law on statutory discretion, that the secretary of
state had unlawfully fettered his common law power by refusing to
consider whether to make an exception to the criteria for
compensation.
The Court of Appeal rejected the analogy.56 It held that it was
lawful to formulate a policy for the exercise of statutory discretionary
power, but the person who fell within the statute could not be
completely debarred, and continued to have a statutory right to be
considered by the person entrusted with the discretion. These
considerations did not, said the court, apply in the case of an ordinary
common law power, since it was within the power of the decision-
maker to decide on the extent to which the power was to be exercised
when, for example, setting up a scheme. It might be decided that there
should be no exceptions to the criteria in the scheme, and that “bright
line” criteria should determine eligibility for payments from public
funds. Such criteria should not be regarded as a fetter on an existing
common law discretionary power to decide each application according
to the circumstances of each individual case.
The decision was endorsed by the Supreme Court in Sandiford,57
where the claimant challenged the blanket rule that financial assistance
would not be given to fund legal representation in death penalty cases.
The secretary of state’s power to provide assistance, including legal
funding, to British citizens abroad was derived from the prerogative,
not statute. There was, said the Supreme Court, no necessary
implication, from the mere existence of prerogative powers, that the
State as their holder must keep open the possibility of their exercise in
more than one sense. There was no necessary implication that a
blanket policy was inappropriate, or that there must always be room
for exceptions, when a policy was formulated for the exercise of a
prerogative power. The policy would, however, be subject to review
for irrationality.
C. Conclusion
18–022 The optimum balance between rules and discretion will vary from area
to area. Only careful analysis of particular regulatory contexts can
reveal that balance. Given that this is so, suggestions that the courts
should force or persuade agencies to develop rules should be treated
with considerable reserve. The judiciary are not in a good position to
assess whether the complex arguments for and against rule-making
should lead to an increase in the prevalence of such rules in a
particular area.
A. The Problem
18–023 The preceding discussion concerned the situation where a public body
has discretion and the extent to which it can nonetheless use rules to
determine the application of the relevant policy. We have seen that the
courts are willing to allow such rules provided that they do not unduly
fetter the exercise of the public body’s discretion.
A similar problem can arise where there is a clash between a
discretionary power and a contractual or proprietary obligation which
the public body has undertaken. More general issues concerning
contracts and public bodies were considered in an earlier chapter.105
The present discussion focuses on contract and
the fettering of discretion. A public body, whether a statutory
corporation, governmental department or local authority, has a variety
of statutory powers and duties to perform. The issue is the effect of a
clash between such a power or duty and an existing contractual
obligation that the public body has with a private individual.106 The
courts have to decide when the contractual obligation will be declared
ineffective as a fetter on the statutory power or duty, and whether the
private individual should have compensation. A public body cannot
however escape from a contract merely because it has made a bad
bargain.107
B. Frustration
18–033 A second possible way of granting compensation would be to say that
the contract had been frustrated. There are, however, a number of
difficulties.
First, it is not clear whether on normal principles the contract
would be held to be frustrated. For example, in the Cory case, although
the corporation had conceded frustration the point was not argued, and
it is unclear whether the contract would have been frustrated since the
essence of the claim was simply that it was now less profitable to do
the work. Moreover, the compensation available under the Law
Reform (Frustrated Contracts) Act 1943 might not be adequate or
appropriate.
Secondly, the suggestion that the public body’s action in this type
of case should be deemed self-induced frustration is misconceived.135
The premise behind this concept is that a party cannot rely on
frustration brought about by its own conduct, act or election. The party
is still liable to perform the contract or pay damages for breach,
because it has deliberately or perhaps negligently, without legal
constraint, brought about the event in question. A public body has no
freedom in this sense. It has either exercised a statutory duty with
which the contract is incompatible, or it has decided intra vires to
exercise its statutory powers in a particular way with the same result.
The action, unlike that of the private individual, is done under these
legal constraints and thus, cannot be deemed self-induced
frustration.136
The third difficulty is that frustration is predicated on the idea that
the contract should be at an end, and that neither the public body nor
the private party have any interest in its continuity. This was felt to be
the case by Lord Sumner in
Birkdale.137 This assumption is not sound, in many cases at least, as
exemplified by Cory.138 The plaintiffs in 1936 made a contract with
the defendant corporation to dispose of its refuse. In 1948 the
defendant, acting as Port of London Health Authority, made byelaws
which caused refuse disposal to be more expensive. Cory claimed that
this was a breach of contract, arguing that the 1936 contract contained
an implied term that the defendant would not do anything which made
the contract more onerous. This argument was rejected. The essence of
the plaintiff’s argument was that it had offered a price presuming that
certain costs would be involved and that these costs had risen due to
the byelaws. If Cory could not make any profit it would be forced into
liquidation. This was of no concern to Lord Sumner, since a different
company would undertake refuse collection. Yet, presuming that Cory
was a reasonably efficient firm, any other firm which tendered for the
contract would set its price taking account of the more expensive
nature of the job resulting from the 1948 byelaws. The defendant
corporation, therefore, had an interest in continuity of the task. The
simplest solution would be to allow the firm to revise their price
upwards to take account of the greater costs incurred. On the facts it
appeared that Cory had made a bad bargain from which it was seeking
to escape. The general point being made, that a public body may well
have an interest in the continuity of the relationship, is nonetheless still
important. If the firm undertaking the refuse collection had made a
reasonable bargain, which was only rendered unreasonable by
regulations that applied solely to that firm, then a remedy allowing
revision of the price would be beneficial.
C. A Specialised Remedy
18–034 The particular problems created by public authority contracts, where
the public body may be acting in a “public” and a “private” role, is the
key to understanding the remedy which should be given. Normal
contract principles are premised on one party showing that the other
has committed a wrong to found a claim for breach of contract. This
does not work here. A public body cannot promise not to exercise its
statutory or common law powers so as not to interfere with one of its
contracts. However, this may be hard on the private contracting party
who may have suffered considerable loss. What is required is a remedy
that recognises the legality of the public body’s action, but which
nevertheless accepts that compensation should be payable provided
that certain conditions are met.
Such remedies exist in other countries139 such as France, which
recognises administrative contracts as a separate entity.140 The central
idea is the predominance of the public interest. It is acknowledged that
in certain circumstances the public body may in its public role be
required to take action
that is detrimental to the other contracting party, and can to this end
suspend or vary the contract. Three remedies are of a particular
interest.
18–035 Imprévision is similar to frustration subject to two important
differences. It is based on the continuity of the relationship and not
necessarily its termination. It does not require that the contract should
have become legally or physically incapable of being performed, and
applies when circumstances upset the economic substance of the
contract, rendering it more difficult than contemplated, over and
beyond the normal risk. The contractor, when this occurs, may, for
example, continue to perform the contract, but at a revised rate.
The second and perhaps most interesting of the three is a remedy
called fait du prince. An unforeseeable loss may be shared by the two
parties, and the contractor can obtain an indemnity for increased costs.
This applies where the contract is affected by something done by the
public body in its public role, which renders the bargain less
profitable. The remedy may constitute an indemnity for the private
party, or an authorisation to increase the charge. Fait du prince will
not apply where the loss is caused by legislation affecting all people
equally.
A third doctrine, supervision, allows the administration to modify
the contractual terms in the public interest, but it has to pay an
indemnity to the other party if, on the facts, that is the fair balance.
3 See Ch.1; Sir H. Woolf, Protection of the Public—A New Challenge (London:
Lavender & Son Ltd v Minister of Housing and Local Government [1970] 1
W.L.R. 1231 QBD; Ratnagopal v Attorney General [1970] A.C. 974 PC (Cey).
Compare R. (Ealing LBC) v Audit Commission [2005] EWCA Civ 556; Thames
Water Utilities Ltd v Transport for London [2013] EWHC 187 (Admin).
9 King-Emperor v Benoari Lal Sarma [1945] A.C. 14; Noon v Matthews [2014]
EWHC 4330 (Admin); P. Thorp, “The Key to the Application of the Maxim
‘Delegatus non Potest Delegare’” (1972−1975) 2 Auck. U.L.J. 85.
10 Barnard v National Dock Labour Board [1953] 2 Q.B. 18 CA.
11 Vine v National Dock Labour Board [1957] A.C. 488 HL; Phonepayplus Ltd v
Ashraf [2014] EWHC 4303 (Ch).
12 Bowstead and Reynolds on Agency, 19th edn (London: Sweet & Maxwell,
2010), para.2.017.
13 Lever Finance Ltd v Westminster (City) LBC [1971] 1 Q.B. 222 CA (Civ Div).
15 Freeman & Lockyer v Buckhurst Park Properties (Mangal) Ltd [1964] 2 Q.B.
480 CA at 506.
16 Barnard [1953] 2 Q.B. 18 at 39−40. See also Western Fish Products Ltd v
Penwith DC [1981] 2 All E.R. 204 CA (Civ Div).
17 Firth v Staines [1897] 2 Q.B. 70; R. v Chapman, Ex p. Arlidge [1918] 2 K.B.
298 KBD; Bowyer, Philpott & Payne Ltd v Mather [1919] 1 K.B. 419 KBD;
Warwick RDC v Miller-Mead [1962] Ch. 441 CA.
18 Huth v Clark (1890) 25 Q.B.D. 391; Gordon Dadds & Co v Morris [1945] 2
All E.R. 616 at 621. Compare Battelley v Finsbury LBC (1958) 56 L.G.R. 165.
19 Blackpool Corp v Locker [1948] 1 K.B. 349 CA, Asquith LJ agreed with Scott
LJ.
20 Blackpool Corp [1948] 1 K.B. 349 at 365, 367−368, 377.
23 Robertson v Department for the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs [2004]
I.C.R. 1289 EAT. The matter was not considered in depth by the Court of
Appeal, Robertson v Department for the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs
[2005] EWCA Civ 138 at [41].
24 Carltona Ltd v Commissioners of Works [1943] 2 All E.R. 560.
25 Carltona [1943] 2 All E.R. 560; Roberts [1949] 2 K.B. 608; R. v Skinner
[1968] 2 Q.B. 700 CA (Crim Div); Golden Chemical Products Ltd, Re [1976]
Ch. 300 Ch D; Bushell v Secretary of State for the Environment [1981] A.C. 75
HL; R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Oladehinde [1991] 1
A.C. 254 HL; Castle v Crown Prosecution Service [2014] EWHC 587 (Admin);
D. Lanham, “Delegation and the Alter Ego Principle” (1984) 100 L.Q.R. 587.
26 Woollett v Minister of Agriculture and Fisheries [1955] 1 Q.B. 103 CA at
120−121.
27 Compare DPP v Haw [2007] EWHC 1931 at [29]; and R. (TM (Kenya)) v
Secretary of State for the Home Department [2019] 4 W.L.R. 109 CA (Civ Div)
at [68]–[71].
28 Oladehinde [1991] 1 A.C. 254 at 300, 303.
[52]. See also, e.g. R. v Skinner [1968] 2 Q.B. 700 CA (Crim Div) at 707; Nelms
v Roe [1970] 1 W.L.R. 4 DC at 8; Castle [2014] EWHC 587 (Admin).
30 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Oladehinde [1991] 1
A.C. 254 HL at 303; Haw [2007] EWHC 1931 at [33]; Bourgass [2016] A.C.
384 SC at [52].
31 Oladehinde [1991] 1 A.C. 254.
of the issue see, Re Golden Chemical Products Ltd [1976] Ch. 300 Ch D at
309−310; R. v Superintendent of Chiswick Police Station, Ex p. Sacksteder
[1918] l K.B. 578 CA at 585−586, 591−592; R. v Governor of Brixton Prison,
Ex p. Enahoro [1963] 2 Q.B. 455 QBD at 466; R. (Forsey) v Northern
Derbyshire Magistrates’ Court [2017] EWHC 1152 (QB).
33 R. (Bancoult) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
(No.3) [2018] UKSC 3 at [47]; Bourgass [2016] A.C. 384 SC at [52].
34 R. (National Association of Health Stores) v Secretary of State for Health
[2005] EWCA Civ 154; Secretary of State for the Home Department v AT
[2009] EWHC 512; R. (Seabrook Warehousing Ltd) v Revenue and Customs
Commissioners [2010] EWCA Civ 140.
35 R. (Chief Constable of the West Midlands Police) v Birmingham Justices
[2002] EWHC 1087 (Admin).
36 Nelms [1970] 1 W.L.R. 4.
41 See Ch.4.
43 Quaquah v Group 4 Securities Ltd (No.2) [2001] Prison L.R. 318 QBD.
Div).
56 R. (Elias) v Secretary of State for Defence [2006] 1 W.L.R. 3213 CA (Civ
Div) at [191]−[192].
57 R. (Sandiford) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
[2014] UKSC 44; [2014] 1 W.L.R. 2697 SC; R. (Adath Yisroel Burial Society
and another) v Inner North London Senior Coroner [2018] 3 W.L.R. 1354 DC.
58 D. Galligan, “The Nature and Function of Policy within Discretionary Power”
[1976] P.L. 332, 346−355.
59 R. v Port of London Authority, Ex p. Kynoch Ltd [1919] 1 K.B. 176 CA at
184; Boyle [1907] A.C. 45 at 57.
60 British Oxygen Co Ltd v Board of Trade [1971] A.C. 610 HL.
61 British Oxygen [1971] A.C. 610 at 625; Cummings v Birkenhead Corp [1972]
QBD at 1297−1298.
63 H Lavender & Son Ltd v Minister of Housing and Local Government [1970] 1
W.L.R. 1231 QBD at 1240−1241; Sagnata Investments Ltd v Norwich Corp
[1971] 2 Q.B. 614 CA (Civ Div).
64 R. v Rochdale MBC, Ex p. Cromer Ring Mill Ltd [1982] 3 All E.R. 761 QBD;
R. v Eastleigh BC, Ex p. Betts [1983] 2 A.C. 613 HL at 627−628; Re Findlay
[1985] A.C. 318, 334−336. Compare R. v Windsor Licensing Justices, Ex p.
Hodes [1983] 1 W.L.R. 685 CA (Civ Div); R. v Secretary of State for the
Environment, Ex p. Brent LBC [1982] Q.B. 593 DC at 640−642; P. v Hackney
LBC [2007] EWHC 1365.
65 D.J. Galligan, “The nature and functions of policies within discretionary
power” [1976] P.L. 332, 349.
66 British Oxygen [1971] A.C. 610 at 623−624; Cummings [1972] 1 Ch. 12 at
37−38; R. v Lambeth LBC, Ex p. Ghous [1993] C.O.D. 302.
67 See Ch.19.
70 The test should not be not what evidence a social scientist with full research
grant and expertise, etc. could produce, but what evidence would be available to
the corporation, apart from the general feeling that such places were a bad
influence on the young.
71 See Ch.15.
72 See, e.g. Kynoch [1919] 1 K.B. 176 at 184; Brockman [1951] 2 K.B. 784 at
applicant could challenge the policy itself, with British Oxygen [1971] A.C. 610,
where Lord Reid thought that there were instances where this was possible, at
625. The latter view is supported by Ince [1973] 1 W.L.R. 1334 at 1344.
75 See Ch.22.
Legal Action (1975), p.22; “For example, a parking meter will not show
understanding or mercy to the person who was one minute over the limit because
he was helping a blind man across the street”. See also J. Jowell, “Legal Control
of Administrative Discretion” [1973] P.L. 178.
87 C. Reich, “The New Property” (1964) 73 Yale L.J. 733.
pp.25−27.
104 Mashaw, Bureaucratic Justice (1983), pp.27−28; P. Craig, “Discretionary
111 York Corp v H Leetham & Sons Ltd [1924] 1 Ch. 557 Ch D; Amphitrite
[1921] 3 K.B. 500.
112 South Eastern Ry Co v Cooper [1924] 1 Ch. 211 CA.
114 Birkdale District Electricity Supply Co Ltd v Southport Corp [1926] A.C. 355
HL.
115 Leetham [1924] 1 Ch. 557.
118 British Transport Commission [1958] A.C. 126 at 143; Lord Radcliffe at
152−153.
119 See also Ransom and Luck Ltd v Surbiton BC [1949] Ch. 180 CA; Marten v
Flight Refuelling Ltd [1962] Ch. 115 Ch D; Triggs v Staines UDC [1969] 1 Ch.
10 Ch D; Board of Trade v Temperley Steam Shipping Co Ltd (1927) 27 L1. L.
Rep. 230; William Cory and Son Ltd v London Corp [1951] 2 K.B. 476 CA;
Commissioners of Crown Lands v Page [1960] 2 Q.B. 274 CA; Smith v Muller
[2008] EWCA Civ 1425.
120 British Transport Commission [1958] A.C. 126 at 144.
121 R. (Newhaven Port & Properties Ltd) v East Sussex CC [2015] A.C. 1547 SC
at [91]–[97]. See also, R. (Kilby) v Basildon DC [2007] EWCA Civ 479.
122 R. (Lancashire CC) v Secretary of State for the Environment, Food and Rural
Affairs [2019] UKSC 58; [2020] 2 W.L.R. 1.
123 Lancashire CC [2019] UKSC 58; [2020] 2 W.L.R. 1 at [55]–[71].
127 Dowty Boulton Paul Ltd v Wolverhampton Corp [1971] 1 W.L.R. 204 Ch D.
128 The case was decided differently, on other grounds, in Dowty Boulton Paul
Ltd v Wolverhampton Corp (No.2) [1976] Ch. 13 CA (Civ Div).
129 Blake (Valuation Officer) v Hendon Corp (No.1) [1962] 1 Q.B. 283 CA; R. v
Hammersmith and Fulham LBC, Ex p. Beddowes [1987] Q.B. 1050 CA (Civ
Div). Compare Kilby [2007] EWCA Civ 479.
130 A. Davies, “Ultra Vires Problems in Government Contracts” (2006) 122
134 William Cory and Son Ltd v London Corp [1951] 2 K.B. 476 CA;
http://dwp.gov.uk/supplying-dwp/doing-business-with-dwp/terms-and-
conditions; https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/model-services-
contract [accessed 27 January 2021].
144 Model Terms and Conditions for Goods cl.F3.3b.
CHAPTER 19
ABUSE OF DISCRETION
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
19–001 i. The courts have since the origins of judicial review exercised
control to prevent abuse of discretionary power. There are two
levels at which the judicial controls can operate. The courts can
intervene because the tribunal has used its discretionary power for
a purpose not allowed by the legislation. They can intervene
because the tribunal, while able in principle to use its power to
reach a certain end, has done so in a manner felt to be
unreasonable, irrational, or disproportionate. Lord Diplock’s
distinction in GCHQ1 between review for illegality and for
irrationality captures this idea.
ii. This chapter will be concerned with controls that relate to
illegality, while those pertaining to irrationality will be
considered in later chapters. It is not, however, always be easy to
distinguish between the two levels. Courts and commentators
may differ as to which category a particular case should be placed
in.
iii. The reason is that statutes conferring broad discretionary powers
do not have neat corners, nor is the process of statutory
construction self-executing. The determination of legitimate
purpose and relevant considerations may therefore entail judicial
value judgment and use of substantive principles, not merely
discernment of something that is evident from the face of the
enabling legislation.
iv. The discussion of illegality within this chapter will be structured
in the following manner. The next three sections address the basic
structure of the Wednesbury test, the types of power that can be
judicially controlled and the intensity of judicial review. There
will then be a discussion of the constraints that relate to illegality.
The principal common law controls focus on propriety of purpose
and relevancy. The Human Rights Act 1998 (HRA) added an
important head of statutory illegality, which will be analysed in
the following chapter.
A. Statutory Power
19–004 The UK courts have not traditionally held it to be within their power to
invalidate primary legislation, this being regarded as inconsistent with
parliamentary sovereignty, although there are dicta countenancing the
possibility that primary statute might be judicially challenged in
certain exceptional cases.6 The courts will, however, exercise control
over primary legislation in certain instances.
Thus, it is open to the courts to interpret primary legislation in the
manner that best fits with the precepts of judicial review. They are
subject to the HRA 1998, and the courts have a duty to interpret
legislation to be compatible with the Convention rights listed in the
Act. The courts have in addition heard a claim that primary legislation
was not properly made in accordance with the Parliament Acts, and
that the Parliament Act 1949 was invalid.7 Delegated or secondary
legislation is subject to judicial review.8 So too is discretionary power
exercised pursuant to a statute and the majority of cases are of this
nature.
B. Prerogative Power
19–005 Prerogative powers are subject to judicial review. The previous
orthodoxy was that courts would control the existence and extent of
prerogative power, but not the manner of exercise,9 although there
were dicta supporting a wider review power.10
This position was modified by the GCHQ11 case. Their Lordships
emphasised that the reviewability of discretionary power should be
dependent on the subject-matter, and not whether its source was statute
or the prerogative. Certain exercises of prerogative power would,
because of their subject-matter, be less justiciable, and Lord Roskill
compiled the broadest list of such forbidden territory.12 Thus, their
Lordships held that although the minister had to adduce evidence that
the decision to ban national unions at GCHQ was based on
considerations of national security, the question of whether such
considerations outweighed the prima facie duty of fairness was for the
minister himself to
decide.13 Subject to this important caveat, their Lordships were
willing, albeit in varying degrees, to consider the manner of exercise
of prerogative power, as well as adjudicating on its existence and
extent. The success of such a challenge might be affected by the
ground of attack,14 as well as the nature of the subject-matter.
Later courts have been prepared to reassess the extent to which any
particular prerogative subject-matter is immune from review, and the
general trend has been to reduce such islands of immunity. Thus in
Bentley,15 it was held that the prerogative of mercy was subject to
judicial review, and the court could stipulate the types of consideration
which could be taken into account when exercising this power. In
Abbasi16 the court held that it was no answer to a claim for judicial
review to say that the source of the power of the Foreign Office was
the prerogative, since it was the subject-matter that was determinative.
In Bancoult17 Sedley LJ opined that a number of the examples given
by Lord Roskill might be regarded as questionable in the modern day
and that the grant of honours for reward, the waging of a war of
manifest aggression or a refusal to dissolve Parliament could well call
in question immunity based purely on subject-matter. The House of
Lords in Bancoult held that there was no reason in principle why
prerogative legislation should not, like other prerogative acts, be
reviewable by the courts on ordinary principles of legality, rationality
and procedural impropriety.18 While the courts are more willing to
review prerogative power than hitherto, the nature of the particular
prerogative may still affect the incidence of review.19 The Supreme
Court in Miller 120 subjected the prerogative in relation to treaties to
judicial review, and in Miller 221 the prerogative relating to
prorogation was also subject to such review.
Certain prerogative powers, notably those relating to the civil
service and ratification of Treaties, have been placed on statutory
footing, thereby increasing parliamentary scrutiny and control over
what had hitherto been prerogative discretionary power.22
D. Non-statutory Bodies
19–008 The courts have also imposed controls on the way in which power is
exercised by bodies that are not the creature of statute. The law in this
area has been driven principally by developments relating to
remedies.34
4. JUDICIAL REVIEW: INTENSITY
19–009 Judicial review can vary in intensity, which alters depending on the
subject-matter of the action. The intensity of review can affect the
application of irrationality or proportionality, as exemplified by the
courts’ willingness to protect individual rights even prior to the HRA
1998,35 and by the variable intensity of review that prevails under the
HRA 1998, flowing from the fact that not all rights are equally
important.36 This can be briefly demonstrated by contrasting two
decisions.
In Brind,37 to be considered fully later, their Lordships made it
clear that if the exercise of discretionary power impinged upon a
fundamental right then the courts would require an important
competing public interest to be shown to justify this intrusion. By way
of contrast, in the Hammersmith case,38 the House of Lords reviewed
charge capping by the secretary of state, which the applicant local
authorities claimed was in breach of the relevant statute. Lord Bridge
held that while the court could intervene if the secretary of state had
acted illegally, that is for improper purposes, or on irrelevant
considerations, it should in the sphere of economic policy, be wary of
irrationality review unless there was some manifest absurdity or bad
faith.
It is nonetheless important to note that while intensity of review
can vary when the courts consider irrationality or proportionality, the
judicial approach taken to challenges cast in terms of improper
purposes and relevancy is different. The general judicial approach is
that courts substitute judgment for that of the primary
decision-maker as to whether a purpose is proper, or whether a
consideration is relevant. The rationale is, as noted above, that the
courts conceive of themselves as delimiting the ambit of what the
statute allows through a normal process of statutory interpretation.
This conceptualisation is reinforced by thinking of improper purposes
and relevancy as heads of illegality.
The reality is that whether a case concerning discretion is classified
as falling within purpose/relevancy, or whether it is held to come
within irrationality/proportionality, can be contestable and dependent
on the relative breadth with which the court defines the relevant
considerations.39 The reality is also that statutory construction can
often involve difficult value choices, and complex issues of
interpretation. It is therefore arguable that the courts should be willing
to accord some measure of deference or weight to the views of the
administration when determining whether a purpose is proper, or
whether a consideration is relevant. This does not mean that the
administration’s view should be determinative in this regard, but it
does mean taking seriously the considered judgment of the
administration as to why, for example, a consideration should or
should not be felt relevant to the exercise of discretion under a
particular statute.40
A. Improper Purposes
19–011 The general principle is, as noted by the House of Lords in Padfield,
that Parliament confers discretion with the intention that it should be
used to promote the policy of the legislation, with the consequence that
if the Minister uses the
discretion in a manner that is counter to that policy it is unlawful.42
There is no unfettered discretion. The purpose for which the discretion
is used has to be in accord with the statutory objectives.43
The law reports abound with examples of courts striking down
decisions where the discretion has been used for an improper purpose.
A public body with power to construct lavatories could not use that
power to build a subway under a street44; deportation could not be
used to achieve extradition45; the Home Secretary could not use his
powers to revoke television licences where people had bought a new
licence early to avoid a price rise46; a local authority had no power to
enter into speculative financial swap transactions47; a local authority
could not refuse to renew a lease for a solicitor’s firm in retaliation for
the firm bringing actions against it48; a local authority could not use its
conservation powers improperly to prevent demolition of a building49;
and a local authority could not use its power to dispose of land to
promote the electoral advantage of the dominant party on the
council.50
The courts determine the purpose from the particular statute, but
the construction can be contestable. For example, planning authorities
may grant planning permission unconditionally, or subject to such
conditions as they think fit. A number of cases have turned on the
legality of such conditions. The general judicial approach has been that
the conditions must fairly and reasonably relate to the permitted
development.51 In applying this test the courts have upheld fairly
broad conditions,52 but they have also struck down others by using
concepts that are open to debate. Thus, the court held invalid
conditions attached to the grant of a caravan site licence that required
site rents to be agreed with the council and security of tenure to be
provided for caravan owners.53 The House of Lords found that the
legislation only allowed terms to be attached that related to the use of
the site, and not to the types of contract the site owner could make
with the caravan owners. In reaching this conclusion the court held
that freedom of contract was a fundamental right, and that if
Parliament intended to empower a third party to make conditions that
affected the provisions of a contract between others then this should be
expressed in clear terms.54 In other cases the courts relied on the
principle that private rights of property should not be taken without
compensation unless there exists clear authority in the statute.55
This is not to say that either of the decisions was wrong. The
balance between presumptions as to freedom of contract and the
protection of private property rights unless due compensation is paid,
and the overall direction of the planning system, is a complex one on
which opinions may differ. There is, however, no doubt that the
denomination of a purpose as proper or improper raises issues of
political and social choice, which do not cease to be so by being
expressed in the language of vires. Later authority has held that
planning law is of a “public character”, and that the courts should not
introduce private law principles unless these are expressly authorised
by parliament or are necessary to give effect to the legislative
purpose.56
19–012 Cases raising such issues are not restricted to the planning field. In
Roberts,57 Poplar Council had decided to pay their low grade workers
£4 per week. The relevant statute empowered the council to pay such
wages as it thought fit.58 Despite this the House of Lords found that
the payment was excessive: the statute was to be read subject to an
implied condition that the wages should be reasonable, which was to
be judged by current rates payable in the industry. Anything above this
was a gratuity. The advancement of a social purpose, such as payment
of a minimum wage, was unlawful.59
The decision in Bromley further exemplifies the difficulties of
determining the purposes for which a statutory power can be used.60
The Transport (London) Act 1969 s.1 imposed on the GLC a duty to
develop policies that promoted the provision of integrated, efficient
and economic transport facilities for Greater London. The policies
were implemented by the London Transport Executive (LTE), which
was required, so far as practicable, to make up any deficit incurred in
one accounting period within the next.61 The legislation empowered
the GLC to take such action as was necessary and appropriate to
enable the LTE to comply with this obligation.62 The GLC also had
power to make grants to the LTE for any purpose.63
The GLC decided to implement a resolution, which had been
included by the majority group in their manifesto, to reduce fares by
25%. To this end, the GLC issued a supplementary precept for rates to
all London boroughs. The money would be paid by the GLC to the
LTE as a grant, to enable the latter to balance its accounts. An indirect
result of the fare reduction was that the GLC would lose
approximately £50 million of rate support grant. Bromley LBC sought
to quash the supplementary rate, arguing that it was either beyond the
powers of the GLC under the 1969 Act, or that it was an invalid
exercise of discretion under that legislation.
The House of Lords upheld the claim. Their Lordships recognised
that the power to make grants contained within s.3 conferred a wide
discretion, and that such grants could be made to supplement the
revenue received by the LTE from fares. This discretion was, however,
limited. The LTE’s basic obligation was to run its operations on
ordinary business principles, which the fare reduction contravened.
The GLC could not use its grant making powers to achieve a social
policy that was inconsistent with these obligations. Reduction of the
fares was also invalid because it involved a breach of fiduciary duty
owed by the GLC to the ratepayers. The effect of the 25% reduction in
fares would be to place an inordinate burden on the ratepayers, since it
would lead to a loss of rate support grant. Nor could the GLC defend
its policy on the basis that it possessed a mandate to lower fares. Those
who were elected were representatives and not delegates. They could
not regard themselves as irrevocably bound by their manifesto.
19–013 The case is interesting in many respects.64 The statutory language was,
Lord Diplock admitted,65 sometimes opaque and elliptical, and this is
reflected in the fact that although the House of Lords reached a
unanimous conclusion, their Lordships differed in their interpretation
of the legislation. The idea that a local authority owes a fiduciary duty
to its ratepayers is not new,66 but it was not subject to thorough
judicial investigation. The idea seems self-evident: a local authority
occupies a position of trust, or a fiduciary duty, in relation to the
ratepayers whose money it is using, and who are the beneficiaries of
its services.
Closer analysis reveals a shakier foundation.67 Ratepayers do not
provide even the majority of local authority revenue, which comes
from central government. The fiduciary duty operates, moreover, in an
asymmetrical fashion. It serves to quash expenditure deemed to be in
breach of this duty, but does not impose any obligation to spend
money that is unreasonably withheld.68 Given that ratepayers were, as
their Lordships admitted, only one part of those to whom the local
authority owed duties, it was then necessary to determine the balance
between their interests and those of others in local society. This was a
difficult determination and it is arguable that the determination made
by the elected representatives should have been allowed to stand.
The response of the House of Lords to the argument based upon
the election manifesto is, in many ways, incontrovertible. A person
who is elected is not a delegate for the voters, but a representative who
must act in the best interests of all constituents. The representative
cannot be irrevocably bound to fulfil election
promises. This is unexceptionable, but it does not sit easily with the
views of the House of Lords in the Tameside69 case, where their
Lordships emphasised that the local authority had a virtual mandate to
retain grammar schools in the area. It was a significant factor to be
taken into account when assessing the reasonableness of the local
authority’s conduct in attempting to allocate children to the correct
school.
19–014 Differences of judicial view as to legislative purpose are evident more
recently in the Palestine Solidarity case.70 It concerned the legality of
ministerial guidance issued pursuant to secondary legislation relating
to local authority pension funds. The guidance stated that use of
pension policies against foreign regimes was inappropriate, unless the
government had put in place formal legal sanctions, or something
equivalent thereto. The majority held that this was unlawful, since it
ran counter to the purpose that the Public Service Pensions Act 2013
was designed to serve. For the majority, the statutory objective was to
enable the minister to make regulations of a procedural nature
concerning the management and administration of pension schemes,
but not to provide an indirect vehicle for enforcement of substantive
government policy through the instrumentality of guidance made
pursuant to such regulations. For the dissent, the purposes of the
primary legislation included the public interest and good governance
in the reformed public sector pension schemes. It followed that
guidance as to their management could include establishing the role of
the Secretary of State in relation to investment, and the contested
guidance related to issues that fell within the proper purview of
government. The power to give guidance was not limited to procedural
matters.
The difficulties concerning interpretation of the scope of a power
and the divide between proper and improper purposes are not confined
to cases where the power is derived from statute. The issue is equally
apparent in cases where it is founded on the prerogative, as
exemplified by Bancoult.71 The case concerned the legality of Orders
in Council made pursuant to the prerogative that removed any right of
abode and disentitled the Chagos islanders from entry or presence on
the islands without permission from the UK. The claimants challenged
the legality and rationality of the Orders in Council. The majority held
that the Orders in Council should be regarded as lawful, in the sense
that they could exclude the islanders from returning to their island. The
right of abode was regarded as a “creature of the law”, which the law
gave and could take away.72 The minority, by way of contrast,
concluded that the Order in Council was invalid, because there was no
warrant for saying that it could be used to exclude an indigenous
population from its homeland. There was, said Lords Bingham and
Mance, no historical authority for such a power and it was contrary to
principle.73 There were similar differences of view in relation to
irrationality. For the majority, the exercise of the prerogative power
was consonant with ordinary
principles of judicial review. It should not be struck down because it
was not unreasonable to refuse resettlement, more especially because
of the security considerations relating to a US military base. For the
minority, the Order in Council forbidding resettlement was irrational,
in part because there was no good reason for making it74 and in part
because an order removing the islanders’ right of abode abrogated a
fundamental right and hence called for heightened scrutiny.75
It would be a simple world in which an authority always acted for
one purpose only. Complex problems can arise where one purpose is
lawful and one is unlawful. The courts have used various tests to
resolve this problem. One test considers the true purpose for which the
power was exercised. Provided that the legitimate statutory purpose
was achieved it is irrelevant that a subsidiary object was also
attained.76 A second approach analyses the dominant purpose for
which the power was exercised.77 A third test considers whether any
purpose was authorised, although this has less support in the case law
than the previous two tests. A fourth approach is to examine whether
any purpose was unauthorised and had an effect on the decision. If this
was so the decision was overturned as being based on irrelevant
considerations.78
B. Relevancy
19–015 The other principal method of controlling discretion is relevancy: a
decision will be ultra vires if it is based on irrelevant considerations, or
if relevant considerations are not taken into account. It is important to
disaggregate two senses of relevancy, since different conclusions flow
therefrom.
i. Mandatory considerations
19–017 There are considerations that are not mandatory in the preceding sense,
but which can be taken into account by the decision-maker. The notion
of “consideration” in this context is very broad, since it can
encapsulate all matters that the decision-maker adverts to when
making its discretionary decision. In such instances, it is for the
decision-maker, and not the court, to make the primary judgment as to
what should be considered relevant in a given case. The court does,
however, exercise a secondary judgment, framed in Wednesbury
terms.92 The court will intervene if no reasonable decision-maker
would have failed to advert to the consideration.93
The stringency with which the courts have applied this criterion
has varied in different areas,94 and there has been an unwillingness to
declare invalid administrative decisions simply because the applicant
could point to one
“relevant” factor that the authority did not take into account. This is
particularly so where the consideration did not have a causal effect
upon the authority’s determination and where the decision being
impugned was not determinative of rights, such as a decision by a
local authority to refer a landlord to a rent tribunal.95
C. Bad Faith
19–020 The concept of bad faith has remained either largely in the region of
hypothetical cases,103 or has been treated as synonymous with
improper purposes or relevancy.104 Bad faith would automatically
render applicable control mechanisms in terms of purpose or
relevancy. This is not to say that spite, malice or dishonesty may not
exist. It clearly can.105 It is to question the necessity of its being a
separate method of control.106
C. Secondary Literature
19–025 The preceding case law was complemented by a rich secondary
literature, in which many of the contributions were from judges.
Different strands of reasoning are apparent in this literature.
A prominent strand was that the courts should recognise and
employ a general presumption against interference with human rights,
which was grounded in the common law. Thus, Lord Browne-
Wilkinson125 argued that the presumption should apply not only when
there was ambiguity in the domestic provisions, but also where there
was general statutory language.126 Sir John Laws127 drew a distinction
between reliance upon the European Convention as a legal instrument
stricto sensu, and reliance upon the content of the Convention as a
series of propositions that were either already inherent in our law, or
could be integrated into it by the judiciary through the normal process
of common law adjudication. It was not for the courts themselves to
incorporate the Convention, since that would be to trespass on the
legislature’s sphere. The courts could, however, legitimately pursue
the latter approach and consider the Convention jurisprudence as one
source for charting development of the common law. The standard of
review would, moreover, be more intensive in rights-based cases128:
“[T]he greater the intrusion proposed by a body possessing public power over the citizen in an
area where his fundamental rights are at stake, the greater must be the justification which the
public authority must demonstrate … It means that the principles [of review] are neither
unitary nor static; it means that the standard by which the court reviews administrative action
is a variable one. It means, for example, that while the secretary of state will largely be left to
his own devices in promulgating national economic policy … the court will scrutinise the
merits of his decisions much more closely when they concern refugees or free speech.”
For Sir Stephen Sedley, it was equally important to realise that the
government of the day had no separate sovereignty: the sharpest of all
lessons from Eastern Europe was that “it is when state is collapsed into
party that democracy founders”.139
223 CA at 228−230.
3 Wednesbury Corp [1948] 1 K.B. 223 at 233−234.
4 Pickwell v Camden LBC [1983] Q.B. 962 QBD; Council of Civil Service
Unions v Minister for the Civil Service [1985] A.C. 374 HL at 410−411.
5 P. Craig, “Political Constitutionalism and the Judicial Role: A Response”
8 See Ch.15.
9 Case of Monopolies (1602) 11 Co. Rep. 84b; Prohibitions del Roy (1607) 12
Co. Rep. 63; Burmah Oil Co Ltd v Lord Advocate [1965] A.C. 75 HL; Attorney
General v De Keyser’s Royal Hotel Ltd [1920] A.C. 508 HL; Chandler v DPP
[1964] A.C. 763 HL; P. Craig, “Prerogative, Precedent and Power”, in C.
Forsyth and I. Hare (eds), The Golden Metwand and the Crooked Cord, Essays
in Honour of Sir William Wade (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998),
pp.65−91.
10 Chandler [1964] A.C. 763 at 809−810 (Lord Devlin); Laker Airways Ltd v
Department of Trade [1977] Q.B. 643 CA (Civ Div) (Lord Denning MR).
11 Council of Civil Service Unions [1985] A.C. 374 at 417−418.
12 Council of Civil Service Unions [1985] A.C. 374 at 418. The making of
treaties, the defence of the realm, the dissolution of parliament, the appointment
of Ministers, as well as other areas where the subject-matter was not justiciable.
13 Council of Civil Service Unions [1985] A.C. 374 at 402−403, 406−407,
412−413, 420−421, unless it seems the minister’s decision was one which no
reasonable minister could make, 406. See also, R. v Secretary of State for the
Home Department, Ex p. Ruddock [1987] 1 W.L.R. 1482, where the court
emphasised that the evidence concerning national security must be cogent and
that the court could, if necessary, hear such evidence in camera; R. v Secretary of
State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, Ex p. Everett [1989] 2 W.L.R.
224.
14 Lord Diplock stated that an applicant would be more likely to succeed if
alleging illegality or procedural impropriety, as opposed to irrationality, Council
of Civil Service Unions [1985] A.C. 374 at 411; C. Walker, “Review of the
Prerogative: The Remaining Issues” [1987] P.L. 62.
15 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Bentley [1994] Q.B.
349 DC.
16 R. (Abbasi) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
[2002] EWCA Civ 1598 at [106].
17 R. (Bancoult) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
[2007] EWCA Civ 498 at [46]. The Court of Appeal’s judgment was overturned
by the House of Lords, but this did not affect the point made in the text.
18 R. (Bancoult) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
[2008] UKHL 61; R. (Misick) v Secretary of State for Foreign and
Commonwealth Affairs [2009] EWHC 1039 (Admin).
19 R. (Harrow Community Support Ltd) v Secretary of State for Defence [2012]
EWHC 1921 (Admin).
20 R. (Miller) v Secretary of State for Exiting the European Union [2017] UKSC
5.
21 R. (Miller) v Prime Minister, Cherry v Advocate General for Scotland [2019]
UKSC 41. The application of the principles of judicial review in the Miller cases
gave rise to considerable discussion; see, e.g., M. Elliot, J. Williams and A.
Young (eds), The UK Constitution after Miller (London: Hart Publishing, 2018);
[2017] P.L. Spring Issue; P. Craig, “The Supreme Court, Prorogation and
Constitutional Principle” [2020] P.L. 248.
22 Governance of Britain (2007), Cm.7170, paras 14−51; Constitutional Reform
(1992) 109 L.Q.R. 626; M. Freedland, “Public Law and Private Finance—
Placing the Private Finance Initiative in a Public Law Frame” [1998] P.L. 288;
B.V. Harris, “The ‘Third Source’ of Authority for Government Action
Revisited” (2007) 123 L.Q.R. 225.
24 Dicey, Law of the Constitution, 10th edn (Liberty Fund, 1967), p.425.
Vol.I, p.239.
26 R. (Elias) v Secretary of State for Defence [2006] 1 W.L.R. 3213 CA (Civ
Div) at [185], [193].
27 R. v Somerset CC, Ex p. Fewings [1995] 1 W.L.R. 1037 CA (Civ Div); R. v
Secretary of State, Ex p. C [2000] 1 F.L.R. 627 CA (Civ Div); R. (Shrewsbury
and Atcham BC) v Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government
[2008] EWCA Civ 148.
28 Shrewsbury and Atcham [2008] EWCA Civ 148; R. (W) v Secretary of State
for Health [2014] EWHC 1532 (Admin).
29 R. (New London College Ltd) v Secretary of State for the Home Department
34 See Ch.27.
Q.B. 544 at 572; affirmed [1960] A.C. 260 HL; Newbury DC v Secretary of
State for the Environment [1981] A.C. 578 HL.
52 Fawcett Properties Ltd v Buckingham CC [1961] A.C. 636 HL.
53 Chertsey UDC v Mixnam Properties Ltd [1965] A.C. 735 HL.
55 Minister of Housing and Local Government v Hartnell [1965] A.C. 1134 HL.
Compare Kingston upon Thames RLBC v Secretary of State for the Environment
[1973] 1 W.L.R. 1549 DC.
56 Pioneer Aggregates (UK) Ltd v Secretary of State for the Environment [1985]
A.C. 132 HL at 140−141; R. v St Edmunsbury BC, Ex p. Investors in Industry
Commercial Properties Ltd [1985] 1 W.L.R. 1168 DC; R. (Thornton Hall Hotel
Ltd) v Thornton Hall Holdings Ltd [2019] EWCACiv 737.
57 Roberts v Hopwood [1925] A.C. 578. Compare Pickwell [1983] Q.B. 962.
59 See also, Prescott v Birmingham Corp [1955] Ch. 210 CA; Taylor v Munrow
[1960] 1 W.L.R. 151 DC; Bromley LBC v Greater London Council [1983] 1
A.C. 768 HL.
60 Bromley LBC [1983] 1 A.C. 768. See R. v London Transport Executive, Ex p.
Greater London Council [1983] Q.B. 484 DC, in which a revised fares reduction
scheme was held to be lawful.
61 Transport (London) Act 1969 s.7(3)(b).
64 J. Dignan, “Policy-Making, Local Authorities and the Courts: the ‘GLC Fares’
Case” (1983) L.Q.R. 605; M. Loughlin, Local Government in the Modern State
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), Ch.3.
65 Bromley LBC [1983] 1 A.C. 768 at 822–823.
81 R. v Hyde [1912] 1 K.B. 645 KBD; R. v Bowman [1898] 1 Q.B. 663 QBD; R.
Findlay [1985] A.C 318, 333–334; R. (Khatun) v Newham LBC [2004] EWCA
Civ 55 at [35]; DLA Delivery Ltd v Baroness Cumberlege of Newick [2018]
EWCA Civ 1305 at [22]–[24]; R. (Pharmaceutical Services Negotiating
Committee) v Secretary of State for Health [2018] EWCA Civ 1925; R. (DSD) v
Parole Board [2019] Q.B. 285 DC at [141]; R. (Samuel Smith Old Brewery
(Tadcaster)) v North Yorkshire CC [2020] UKSC 3 at [31]–[32].
93 DLA Delivery [2018] EWCA Civ 1305 at [22]–[24].
101 R. (Rogers) v Swindon NHS Primary Care Trust [2006] 1 W.L.R. 2649 CA
(Civ Div).
102 R. (Corner House Research) v Director of the Serious Fraud Office [2009] 1
A.C. 756 HL; R. (Monica) v DPP [2019] 2 W.L.R. 722 DC; JJ Management
Consulting LLP v Revenue and Customs Commissioners [2020] EWCA Civ 784.
103 Smith v East Elloe RDC [1956] A.C. 736 HL at 770.
104 Westminster Corp [1905] A.C. 426; Webb v Minister of Housing and Local
106 It may be easier to evade a clause excluding judicial review if the allegation
is of bad faith, Lazarus Estates Ltd v Beasley [1956] 1 Q.B. 702 CA at 712−713,
722. Compare R. v Secretary of State for the Environment, Ex p. Ostler [1977]
Q.B. 122 CA (Civ Div) at 138−139.
107 M. Hunt, Using Human Rights Law in English Courts (Oxford: Hart
Publishing, 1997).
108 Brind [1991] 1 A.C. 696.
[1995] C.O.D. 207 CA (Civ Div); R. v Secretary of State for the Home
Department, Ex p. Norney (1995) 7 Admin. L.R. 861 QBD; R. v Secretary of
State for the Home Department, Ex p. Moon [1996] Imm. A.R. 477; R. v
Secretary of State for Social Security, Ex p. Joint Council for the Welfare of
Immigrants [1997] 1 W.L.R. 275 CA (Civ Div); R. v Chief Constable for the
North Wales Police Area Authority, Ex p. AB and DC [1997] 3 W.L.R. 724 DC.
115 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Leech [1994] Q.B.
198 CA (Civ Div).
116 R. v Ministry of Defence, Ex p. Smith [1996] Q.B. 517 CA (Civ Div).
124 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Simms & O’Brien
[2000] 2 A.C. 115 HL; R. (Morgan Grenfell & Co Ltd) v Special Commissioner
of Income Tax [2003] 1 A.C. 563 HL; R. (Anufrijeva) v Secretary of State for the
Home Department [2004] 1 A.C. 604 HL; A v HM Treasury [2010] 2 A.C. 534
SC; P. Craig, “The Principle of Legality”, in P. Cane, H. Hofmann, E. Ip and P.
Lindseth (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Comparative Administrative Law
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020), Ch.42.
125 Lord Browne-Wilkinson, “The Infiltration of a Bill of Rights” [1992] P.L.
397, 404.
126 “The Infiltration of a Bill of Rights” [1992] P.L. 397, 406.
127 Sir J. Laws, “Is the High Court the Guardian of Fundamental Constitutional
Rights?” [1993] P.L. 59.
128 Laws, “Is the High Court the Guardian of Fundamental Constitutional
Rights?” [1993] P.L. 59, 69.
129 Lord Woolf, “Droit Public—English Style” [1995] P.L. 57.
133 Laws, “Law and Democracy” [1995] P.L. 72, 84−85. See also, Laws, “The
Constitution, Morals and Rights” [1996] P.L. 622 and “The Limitations of
Human Rights” [1998] P.L. 254.
134 Jackson [2006] 1 A.C. 262 at [102].
135 Sir S. Sedley, “Human Rights: A Twenty-First Century Agenda” [1995] P.L.
386.
136 Sedley, “Human Rights: A Twenty-First Century Agenda” [1995] P.L. 386,
389−390.
137 Sedley, “Human Rights: A Twenty-First Century Agenda” [1995] P.L. 386,
388.
138 Sedley, “Human Rights: A Twenty-First Century Agenda” [1995] P.L. 386,
389.
139 Sedley, “Human Rights: A Twenty-First Century Agenda” [1995] P.L. 386,
389.
CHAPTER 20
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
20–001 i. This chapter considers the impact of the Human Rights Act 1998
(HRA) on judicial review. The HRA brought certain rights from
the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) into UK
law.1 Prior to the HRA, the UK was bound by the ECHR as an
international Treaty, but the rights could not be directly relied on
in domestic law, although they were indirectly used in litigation
in a various ways. The Labour government in 1998 decided that
the Convention rights should be “brought home”, so that
claimants could use them in national courts. This had a significant
impact on judicial review by the emphasis thereby given to what
has been termed the culture of justification.2 This requires the
primary decision-maker not merely to explain the challenged
decision, but to proffer a reasoned argument, which the courts
will scrutinise within the framework of proportionality to
determine whether the limitation of the right was normatively
justified.
ii. The discussion begins with the structure of the HRA. This
includes analysis of the status of the ECHR prior to the HRA, and
the principal provisions of the HRA. It also includes discussion of
the status of case law from the European Court of Human Rights
in Strasbourg, (ECtHR), when national courts adjudicate under
the HRA.
iii. The focus then shifts to the HRA ss.3 and 4, which are concerned
with claims that primary legislation is contrary to Convention
rights. The framers of the HRA were influenced by UK precepts
of parliamentary sovereignty. The HRA does not therefore
embody what can be termed classic constitutional review,
whereby courts can invalidate a statute if it violates constitutional
rights. The HRA embodies a softer form of judicial
review, whereby the courts are obliged, insofar as possible, to
interpret national law in accord with Convention rights. If this is
not possible, the courts then issue a declaration of
incompatibility, with the consequence that the legislation is sent
back to Parliament, which can decide whether to amend it so that
it is consistent with Convention rights. The declaration of
incompatibility does not, however, affect the validity of the law
prior to any change by Parliament. The extent to which this is
really softer than classic constitutional review has been debated in
the literature.3
iv. The other principal provision is s.6 of the HRA, which renders it
illegal for a public authority to act incompatibly with Convention
rights. This enables claimants to argue that measures other than
primary legislation (or secondary legislation that is strictly
dependent on primary legislation), should be declared illegal for
breach of Convention rights.
v. This is followed by discussion of the standard of review under the
HRA. A claimant will only succeed if able to show breach of a
Convention right, and this depends on the standard of judicial
review under the HRA. There will be analysis of the
circumstances in which the courts substitute judgment under the
HRA, and the extent to which they apply proportionality when
reviewing legislation or governmental action. There has been
considerable debate as to the extent to which the courts should
show some measure of deference/respect/weight to the view of
the legislature or executive when adjudicating under the HRA.
This debate will be examined in the course of the subsequent
analysis.
vi. The chapter concludes by consideration of the extent to which
principles of EU law concerning rights remain relevant even post-
Brexit.
vii. The Conservative Party has posited the introduction of a British
Bill of Rights to replace the HRA. The detailed content of such a
measure, and how far it would differ from the HRA, is however
unclear at the time of writing.
B. Legislative History
20–009 The courts are instructed by s.3 that “so far as it is possible to do so”
legislation must be read and given effect in a way which is compatible
with the Convention rights.51 The more the courts are willing to
construe legislation to be in conformity with Convention rights, the
less is the need to issue declarations of incompatibility. A strident
approach to the interpretation of s.3 means that the courts retain the
matter in their own hands. Parliamentary choice as to whether to
comply with a declaration of incompatibility will not arise where no
such declaration is issued.
The legislative history of s.3 provided little by way of firm
guidance as to the meaning of s.3.52 The Lord Chancellor thought that
it gave the courts broad power to interpret legislation whenever
possible so as to be compatible with the Convention.53 It was not
necessary to find an ambiguity.54 In relation to statutes passed after the
HRA, Parliament should be presumed to legislate compatibly with the
Convention, and the courts should only find the contrary where it was
impossible to construe a statute in that way.55 The Home Secretary,
however, noted that the courts should not distort the meaning of
statutory language so as to produce implausible meanings.56
i. An example: Wilkinson
20–023 The scope of s.6 of the HRA is clearly important.111 Section 6(1)
provides that it is unlawful for a public authority to act in a way that is
incompatible with a Convention right. Section 6(3) provides that a
public authority includes: “a court or tribunal” (s.6(3)(a)), and “any
person certain of whose functions are functions of a public nature”
(s.6(3)(b)). It does not include either House of Parliament, or a person
exercising functions in connection with proceedings in Parliament.
The guidance is augmented by s.6(5), which states that in relation to a
particular act, a person is not a public authority by virtue only of s.6(3)
(b) if the nature of the act is private. Private action by a private body is
not therefore within the remit of the HRA, subject to what will be said
below concerning the horizontal effect of the HRA.
These sections draw a distinction between core public bodies
stricto sensu, such as government departments, which are always
within the ambit of s.6 whatever the nature of the act complained of,
and other hybrid bodies that are only caught because certain of their
functions are of a public nature within
s.6(3)(b). This is important because bodies caught by virtue of s.6(3)
(b) can argue, based on s.6(5), that they are not within the HRA if the
nature of the act was private.
The distinction between core public authorities, which are bound
by the HRA in respect of everything they do, and hybrid public
authorities, which are bound by the HRA in respect of their public but
not their private functions, is apparent in the debates on the Bill in
Parliament, and in subsequent case law.
Thus in the debates in Parliament, the Home Secretary stated that it
would not be possible to list all the bodies to which the HRA would be
applicable, and that a non-exhaustive definition of a public authority
was adopted in s.6. He then added that “obvious public authorities,
such as central Government and the police are caught in respect of
everything they do”, and that “public—but not private—acts of bodies
that have a mix of public and private functions are also covered”.112
20–024 This distinction has been recognised in the case law. Thus, in Aston
Cantlow113 their Lordships accepted the distinction between core and
hybrid public authorities. Lord Nicholls stated that a core public
authority was bound by the HRA in respect of “everything it does”,114
as did Lord Rodger115; Lord Hope stated that core public bodies were
public authorities “through and through”116 with the consequence that
s.6(5) did not apply to them, the assumption being that everything
done by such an authority constituted a public function for the
purposes of the HRA117; and Lord Hobhouse held that core public
authorities were those bodies all of whose functions were of a public
nature, so that s.6 applied to all of their actions.118 Hybrid public
authorities, by way of contrast, were only bound by the HRA in
relation to functions of a public nature. Similarly in YL119 Lord
Neuberger held that a core public authority was bound by s.6 in
relation to “every one of its acts whatever the nature of the act
concerned”,120 with the consequence that there was no need to
distinguish between private and public acts or functions of a core
public authority. A hybrid public authority was, however, only bound
by s.6 in relation to an act which was not private in nature, and which
was pursuant to, or in connection with, a public function.
This twin-track approach fits with that adopted by the ECtHR. It
has applied the Convention to state institutions stricto sensu, even
where the challenged action concerned the exercise of power by the
state qua employer rather than qua
legislator or Executive, and it rejected the contention that the
Convention could not impose obligations on the state which were not
incumbent on private employers.121
It is interesting to reflect on the rationale for subjecting all actions
of core public authorities to the HRA. It might be felt that such bodies
never do anything that could be regarded as private. This empirical
claim is debatable. It might, alternatively, be argued that bodies that
are “so public” should set an example and that acts which might be felt
to be private if performed by others should none the less be subject to
the HRA when undertaken by a core public authority. This is a
normative claim that might well be warranted, but which should be
openly acknowledged. A third possible rationale might be a mix of the
previous two. It might be felt that “not many” acts of such bodies
would be classified as private, and that it would not be good if these
bodies were to seek to evade the HRA in such instances, since this
would send the wrong message about the government’s overall
commitment to the legislation.
ii. Core public authorities: the criteria
20–025 It follows that there must be some criterion for dividing between core
and hybrid public authorities. The principal judicial criterion for a core
public authority is whether the relevant body is, in the words of Lord
Nicholls, “governmental in a broad sense of that expression”,122 such
that the government is answerable for the relevant body under the
ECHR. Lord Nicholls gave by way of example government
departments, local authorities, the police and the armed forces.
Underlying this classification were factors such as the “possession of
special powers, democratic accountability, public funding in whole or
in part, an obligation to act only in the public interest, and a statutory
constitution”.123 The judicial interpretation of core public authority has
been influenced by the consequences of inclusion within this category:
the core public authority is bound by the HRA in respect of all its
actions, and cannot enjoy Convention rights.124 The latter
consideration has inclined the courts to be cautious about defining core
public authority too broadly. They have concluded that, for example,
nongovernmental organisations should not generally be regarded as
falling within the category of core public authorities, since this would
thereby deny them the benefit of Convention rights, more especially
because such organisations are included within the list of those who
are allowed to bring actions before the ECtHR under art.34 ECHR.125
The courts have also provided guidance as to the criteria that
should not be determinative of the category of core public authority.
Thus, the case law on the amenability of a body to judicial review is
properly regarded as not being conclusive, since it was developed for
different purposes.126 The courts have in
addition made it clear that case law concerning the meaning of the
“state” developed by other courts is of limited utility in answering the
salient issues under the HRA.127
20–026 The courts have also furnished guidance concerning hybrid public
authorities, indicating the relevant criteria and those that are not
determinative. The dominant approach is to consider a range of factors
to decide whether the function performed by the body can be regarded
as public and hence render it subject to the HRA as regards that
function. This is apparent from the judgment of Lord Nicholls in
Aston128:
“What, then, is the touchstone to be used in deciding whether a function is public for this
purpose? Clearly there is no single test of universal application. There cannot be, given the
diverse nature of governmental functions and the variety of means by which these functions
are discharged today. Factors to be taken into account include the extent to which in carrying
out the relevant function the body is publicly funded, or is exercising statutory powers, or is
taking the place of central government or local authorities, or is providing a public service.”
20–027 The very fact that a range of factors are taken into account in deciding
whether a body falls within s.6(3)(b) of the HRA means that there can
be differences of view as to the application of those factors in a
particular case.
This is exemplified by Aston Cantlow. The parochial church
council served a notice on the defendants to repair the chancel of the
parish church. The defendants resisted payment, alleging that the
notice infringed its rights under art.1 of the First Protocol. The Court
of Appeal concluded that the parochial church council could be
regarded as within the HRA, either because it was a core public
authority, or that it fell within the category of hybrid public
authority.135
The House of Lords, however, held that the parochial church
council could not be regarded as falling in either category.136 It
concluded that although the Church of England had special links with
central government and performed certain public functions, it was
essentially a religious organisation and not a governmental
organisation. The functions of parochial church councils were
primarily concerned with pastoral and administrative matters. They
were not wholly of a public nature, and therefore were not core public
authorities under s.6(1). The fact that the public had certain rights in
relation to their parish church was not sufficient to characterise the
actions of a parochial church council in maintaining the fabric of the
parish church as being of a public nature, so that when the plaintiff
took steps to enforce the defendants’ liability for the repair of the
chancel, it was not performing a function of a public nature, which
rendered it a hybrid public authority under s.6(3)(b).
not what the Human Rights Act 1998 intended … Section 6(3) means that hybrid bodies,
who have functions of a public and private nature are public authorities, but not in relation to
acts which are of a private nature. The fact that through the act of renting by a private body a
public authority may be fulfilling its public duty, does not automatically change into a public
act what would otherwise be a private act …”.
Lord Woolf set out a list of factors to determine whether a body such
as the housing association should be regarded as a public authority for
the purposes of the HRA139: the existence of statutory authority could
mark out the act as being public; so too could the extent of control
over the function exercised by a body that was a public authority; and
the more closely enmeshed were the prima facie private acts with the
activities of a public body, the more likely they were to be treated as
public. However, the mere fact that a public regulatory authority
supervised the acts would not suffice in this respect. The housing
association was, judged by these criteria, deemed to be performing a
public function and subject to the HRA: the housing association had
been created by the local authority, members of the local authority sat
on its board, and it was subject to guidance by the local authority. The
housing association was therefore subject to the HRA and Convention
rights. The court, however, held that there was no breach of art.8
ECHR.
20–029 The Court of Appeal considered the issue again in the Leonard
Cheshire case.140 The appellants were long-term patients in a home
run by the Leonard Cheshire Foundation (LCF), and sought judicial
review of LCF’s decision to close the home. They argued that they had
been promised a “home for life” in their current accommodation, that
the decision to close the home was in breach of art.8 ECHR, and that
this was so even though alternative accommodation in community
based units would be provided. The majority of the residents had been
placed there by the social services departments of their local authority
or by their health authority. The placements were paid for by the
authorities and were made pursuant to statutory powers.141 The
legislation made it clear that the accommodation could be provided
either “in house”, by the local authority itself,142 or it could be
contracted-out to third parties.143
Lord Woolf CJ adhered to the approach in Donoghue. If the local
authority itself provided accommodation, it would be performing a
public function. This would also be so where it made arrangements for
the accommodation to be provided by LCF. This did not however
mean that LCF should be regarded as performing a public function so
as to come within the HRA.144 Lord Woolf then considered the factors
in Donoghue to determine whether the LCF should be regarded as a
public authority for the purposes of the HRA.145 He concluded that it
should not. The mere fact of public funding by the local authority for
the
accommodation was not determinative of whether the functions were
public or private.146 There was, said Lord Woolf, no other evidence of
there being a public flavour to the functions of LCF or LCF itself,
which did not exercise statutory powers in caring for the appellants.147
20–030 The reasoning and result in Leonard Cheshire were challenged before
the House of Lords in YL.148 The claimant, who was 84, suffered from
Alzheimer’s disease. The defendant council had a statutory duty under
the National Assistance Act 1948 to make arrangements for providing
her with residential accommodation,149 and it chose to fulfil that duty,
as it was allowed to,150 by contracting with the second defendant
company, an independent provider of health and social care services,
for the claimant to be placed in one of its care homes, which
accommodated both privately funded residents and those whose fees
were paid by the council in full or in part. The claimant’s fees were
paid by the council, save for a small top-up fee paid by her relatives.
The company subsequently sought to terminate the contract for her
care and remove her from the home. The claimant argued that the
company fell within s.6(3)(b) of the HRA and that its actions were in
breach of arts 2, 3 and 8 ECHR.
The majority of the House of Lords rejected the claim. The
reasoning was complex, but in essence was as follows. The majority
distinguished between the function of a local authority in making
arrangements pursuant to the 1948 Act for those in need of care and
accommodation who were unable to make such arrangements for
themselves, and that of a private company in providing such care and
accommodation under contract with the authority, on a commercial
basis rather than by subsidy from public funds. They held that the
actual provision of such care and accommodation by the private
company, as opposed to its regulation and supervision pursuant to
statutory rules, was not an inherently public function and thus fell
outside s.6(3)(b). Thus, while the claimant retained public law rights
as against the local authority that had arranged the accommodation,
she did not have Convention rights as against the care home.
There was a powerful dissent by Lord Bingham and Baroness
Hale, who reasoned as follows. The duty imposed on the local
authority by the 1948 legislation could be discharged either by
arranging for residential care itself, or through another local authority
or a voluntary organisation, such as the second defendant. These were
“alternative means by which the responsibility of the state may be
discharged”.151 They rejected the distinction, which was crucial to the
majority’s reasoning, between arranging for and providing such
accommodation. Parliament intended that residential care should be
provided. This duty had to be performed, and the means by which it
was done were not important.152 The factors listed by Lord Bingham
as indicative of a “public function” undertaken by
a hybrid public authority all inclined to the conclusion that the second
defendant fell within this category.153 Lord Bingham concluded154:
“When the 1998 Act was passed, it was very well known that a number of functions formerly
carried out by public authorities were now carried out by private bodies. Section 6(3)(b) of
the 1998 Act was clearly drafted with this well-known fact in mind. The performance by
private body A by arrangement with public body B, and perhaps at the expense of B, of what
would undoubtedly be a public function if carried out by B is, in my opinion, precisely the
case which s.6(3)(b) was intended to embrace. It is, in my opinion, this case.”
20–031 The application of s.6(3)(b) of the HRA to cases where a public body
contracts-out the performance of its duties remains highly problematic
in the light of YL and the dissent is to be preferred. The reasons are as
follows.155
First, s.6(3)(b) may be applicable either in cases where there is no
contracting-out, such as Aston Cantlow, or where there is, such as YL.
This has implications for the test to determine “public function” under
s.6(3)(b). It may well be right to apply the “list of factors” approach
developed in Aston Cantlow to the former situation, precisely because
there is no single criterion that can be used to determine whether a
nominally private body should be subject to the HRA. It is, however,
questionable whether this approach should be relevant to the latter
cases, where there is contracting-out. If it is decided that a core public
authority is performing a public function pursuant to a statutory duty
or power cast upon it, then that should be decisive. The nature of the
function does not change if the task is contracted-out to a body that is
nominally private. That is the essence of the quotation from Lord
Bingham set out above, and it is surely correct. The same point can be
put in a different way. The fact that a core public authority is bound
under the HRA in respect of all its actions, does not preclude us from
deciding that, as will commonly be the case, its action in a particular
instance is properly regarded as fulfilment of a public function cast
upon it in the
public interest by legislation. Where this is so the fact that it contracts-
out the performance of the task to a private body does not alter its
nature: if it was properly regarded as a public function when
performed by the public authority itself, then it should be so regarded
when the same task is performed by the body to whom the power has
been contracted-out.
Secondly, it cannot be correct as a matter of principle for the
availability of Convention rights to be dependent upon the fortuitous
incidence as to how the core public authority chooses to discharge its
functions. Public authorities contract-out some duties cast upon them.
There may be good reasons for this. The choice whether to do so
should not, however, place in jeopardy the applicability of Convention
rights, since this would make the protections secured by the HRA a
lottery.
20–032 Thirdly, the preceding arguments can be tested against the facts of YL
itself. The statutory duty cast on local authorities by the National
Assistance Act 1948 to make arrangements for providing
accommodation for those who could not do so for themselves for
reasons of age, infirmity, disability, etc. was, as recognised by
Baroness Hale, part of the post-war Beveridge social welfare
reforms.156 It was quite clearly a public function, imposed in the
public interest. It did not change its nature by the fact that it could be
fulfilled through a voluntary organisation. The distinction that lies at
the heart of the majority judgment between making arrangements for
such accommodation, and the provision of such accommodation, is,
with respect, not supported by the words of the statute,157 or by the
legislative intent underlying the statutory scheme. The legislative
intent was, as Lord Bingham noted, that residential care should be
provided, while leaving choice as to the means by which this was
done.158 The dissent is to be preferred. This is so whether one applies
the “list of factors” approach to conclude that the second defendant
was performing a public function,159 or whether, as argued above, one
reaches the same conclusion by saying that the local authority was
performing a public function in the public interest, such that when the
task was contracted-out the second defendant was also performing a
public function and hence bound by the HRA.
Fourthly, the majority in YL were concerned that if the HRA was
applicable to the instant case then there would be inequality between
those who were resident in care homes as a result of the local authority
fulfilling its statutory duties, and others who resided in a purely private
capacity. There is some force in this argument. The counter argument
is, however, that the schema of the HRA as applied to this type of case
means that there will always be an equality issue. The decision in YL
means that there will be differential treatment in terms of the HRA
between the infirm, ill, etc. who are housed in local authority
accommodation,
who benefit from Convention rights, and those housed in
accommodation pursuant to a contracting-out scheme, who are denied
such rights.
Finally, the actual decision in YL was reversed by the Health and
Social Care Act 2008, s.145 of which made provision of care home
accommodation an exercise of a public function for the purposes of
s.6(3)(b) of the HRA.160 It has now been replaced by the Care Act
2014 s.73. The 2008 and 2014 legislation did not, however, alter the
general reasoning in YL, which is still applicable to other instances
where functions are contracted out. A Private Members’ Bill, the
Human Rights Act (Meaning of Public Authority) Bill 2009–2010,
would have made this change if it had been enacted. It followed the
lead of the Joint Committee on Human Rights161 and defined “function
of a public nature” to include a function which is required or enabled
to be performed wholly or partly at public expense, irrespective of the
legal status of the person who performed the function, and irrespective
of whether the person who performed the function did so pursuant to a
contract. The Bill was not, however, taken up by the government and
did not become law.
20–033 Any legal system that protects fundamental rights must decide how far
those protections are to apply.162 The traditional sphere of application
for such protections is “vertical”, operating between state and
individual. An important issue is how far they can apply “horizontally”
as between private individuals, or between the public body acting in a
private capacity and an individual. The vertical view is premised, as
Hunt has argued, on a:
“… rigid distinction between the public and private sphere and presupposes that the purpose
of fundamental rights protection is to preserve the integrity of the private sphere against
coercive intrusion by the state”.163
(a) bring proceedings against the authority180 under this Act in the appropriate court or
tribunal, or,
(b) rely on the Convention right or rights concerned in any legal proceedings, but only if he
is (or would be) a victim of the unlawful act.”
Section 7(3) makes it clear that the need for the claimant to be a victim
operates when the proceedings are brought by way of judicial review.
The phrase “appropriate court or tribunal” within s.7(1)(a) means such
court or tribunal as may be determined in accordance with rules181 to
be made by the secretary of state or the Lord Chancellor.182 The
phrase “legal proceedings” within s.7(1)(b) includes proceedings
brought by, or at the instigation of, a public authority, and an appeal
against the decision of a court or tribunal.183 Proceedings brought
under s.7(1)(a) in respect of a judicial act184 may be brought only by
exercising a right of appeal, or by way of judicial review, or in such
other forum as may be prescribed by rules.185 This does not, however,
affect any rule of law, which prevents a court from being the subject of
judicial review.186
The time limits are specified in s.7(5).187 Where proceedings are
brought under s.7(1)(a) they must be commenced before the end of one
year from the date when the act complained of took place, or such
longer period as the court or tribunal considers equitable having regard
to all the circumstances.188 This is, however, expressly subject to any
rule imposing a stricter time limit in relation to the procedure in
question. The effect of this proviso is that if, for example, the
procedure chosen is the application for judicial review then the shorter
time limit applicable to such proceedings will operate.
Convention rights can be used offensively as covered by s.7(1)(a),
whereby the individual instigates the action based on infringement of
s.6(1). Convention rights can also be used defensively as covered by
s.7(1)(b), where the action is brought against an individual by a public
authority and the former relies on a breach of s.6(1) by the authority as
a defence. The limitation period in s.7(5) only applies to offensive
actions. Where the individual relies on a breach of Convention rights
by way of defence pursuant to s.7(1)(b) she will often have no control
over the timing of the action, and might be unaware of the possible
s.6(1) illegality until the public authority seeks to enforce an order,
which she believes to violate Convention rights.189
20–038 Many s.6(1) actions are brought by way of application for judicial
review and will be linked with other possible heads of illegality. The
implications which this has for the operation of the ordinary judicial
review procedure will be considered later.190
The test for standing in relation to s.6(1) is that the person must be
a victim of the unlawful act.191 A person will only be deemed to be a
“victim” if he would be a victim for the purposes of art.34 ECHR as
interpreted by the ECtHR.192 This criterion is different from that in
ordinary judicial review applications, where the test is one of
sufficiency of interest. This caused some disquiet during the passage
of the Bill. The meaning of the term victim in the jurisprudence of the
ECtHR will be discussed within the general context of standing.193
If it should transpire that a s.6(1) action is not allowed to proceed,
because the applicant is not deemed to be a victim, then the courts can
use the common law jurisprudence. This was considered earlier,194 and
there is nothing in the HRA that overrules this body of doctrine. If,
therefore, a public interest group which complained of a violation of a
Convention right was held not to be a victim for the purposes of the
HRA, it could argue that the challenged action was ultra vires in
accord with the common law protections for fundamental rights.
F. Section 6: Remedies
20–039 Section 8(1) of the HRA provides that “in relation to any act (or
proposed act) of a public authority which the court finds is (or would
be) unlawful, it may grant such relief or remedy, or make such order,
within its powers as it considers just and appropriate”. The courts are
therefore given a wide discretion concerning remedies. They may
award a declaration, an injunction, a quashing order or a mandatory
order. It is clear, moreover, that a court or tribunal may disregard
secondary legislation that is inconsistent with Convention rights, even
if it has not been repealed. They can do so where this is possible,
provided that removal of the offending provision does not undermine
the more general legislative scheme.195
Section 8(1) contains the proviso that the remedy must be within
the powers of the court that makes it, and s.8(6) defines court to
include a tribunal. We have seen that actions for breach of s.6(1) may
be brought before an appropriate court or tribunal. It may well be that
a particular tribunal lacks the power to award certain types of remedy.
This issue is addressed by s.7(11). It states that the minister who has
power to make rules in relation to a particular tribunal may by order
add to the relief or remedies which the tribunal may grant, or the
grounds
on which it may grant them, to the extent to which he considers this
necessary to ensure that the tribunal can provide an appropriate
remedy for the purposes of a s.6(1) action.
The application of s.8(1) to cases where the defendant public
authority is a court or tribunal poses interesting problems. The acts of
superior courts are not amenable to judicial review and therefore there
would be no power to issue certiorari to such a body. The decision of
the offending court could be set aside on appeal, on the ground of error
of law.
20–040 The HRA also provides for the possibility of a remedy in damages.
This will be considered in detail when discussing damages.196 The
bare outline of the relevant provisions will be given here. Section 8(1)
is framed broadly enough to include such a remedy, and this is clearly
contemplated by the legislation since s.8(2) stipulates that “damages
may be awarded only by a court which has power to award damages,
or to order the payment of compensation in civil proceedings”. While
damages can be given for breach of s.6(1), the intention is that they
should be awarded only where other relief cannot afford just
satisfaction to the claimant. This is the import of s.8(3):
i. Proportionality: Daly
696 HL.
6 Lord Bingham, HC Deb., col.146 (3 July 1996).
Intentionalism in the Supreme Court: Horncastle and Cadder” [2011] P.L. 475.
21 Begum v Tower Hamlets LBC [2002] H.R.L.R. 24 CA (Civ Div) at [17]; R.
(ProLife Alliance) v British Broadcasting Corp [2002] 3 W.L.R. 1080 CA (Civ
Div) at [33]−[34].
22 In P (Adoption: Unmarried Couples), Re [2008] 3 W.L.R. 76 HL; Rabone v
Pennine Care NHS Foundation Trust [2012] UKSC 2 at [112]; Sugar v BBC
[2012] UKSC 4 at [59]; Surrey CC v P [2014] A.C. 896 SC at [62]; Moohan v
Lord Advocate [2015] A.C. 901 SC at [105].
23 Ambrose [2011] UKSC 43 at [128].
31 HRA s.19(1)(b).
32 HRA s.3(2)(a).
33 HRA s.3(2)(b).
34 HRA s.3(2)(c).
35 HRA s.4(1)−(2).
36 HRA s.4(3)−(4); A. Bradley, “The Impact of the Human Rights Act 1998
upon Subordinate Legislation Promulgated before October 2, 2000” [2000] P.L.
358; R. Allen and P. Sales, “Joint Note for the Court of Appeal in R. v Lord
Chancellor, Ex p. Lightfoot” [2000] P.L. 361.
37 The courts which can make such a declaration are listed in HRA s.4(5).
38 I. Leigh and L. Lustgarten, “Making Rights Real: The Courts, Remedies and
41 HRA s.5.
42 See Ch.15.
45 HRA s.20.
46 See Ch.15.
51 There was an interpretative obligation flowing from EU law; Von Colson and
Kamann v Land Nordrhein-Westfalen (14/83) [1984] E.C.R. 1891; Marleasing
SA v La Comercial Internacional de Alimentacion SA (C-106/89) [1990] E.C.R.
I-4135.
52 F. Klug, “The Human Rights Act 1998, Pepper v Hart and All That” [1999]
P.L. 246, 252−255.
53 Hansard, HL Deb., col.795 (24 November 1997).
Secretary of State for the Home Department [2002] EWHC 2805 (Admin);
Poplar Housing & Regeneration Association Ltd v Donoghue [2002] Q.B. 48
CA (Civ Div); R. (H) v Mental Health Review Tribunal for the North and East
London Region [2002] Q.B. 1 CA (Civ Div).
65 Matthews v Ministry of Defence [2002] 3 All E.R. 513 CA (Civ Div).
67 Matthews [2002] 3 All E.R. 513 at [76]. The point was not considered in the
House of Lords, Matthews v Ministry of Defence [2003] 1 A.C. 1163 HL.
68 R. (International Transport Roth GmbH) v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2003] Q.B. 728 CA (Civ Div).
69 International Transport Roth GmbH [2003] Q.B. 728 at [66].
74 Ghaidan [2004] 2 A.C. 557 at [31]. See also [49], Lord Steyn.
76 Ghaidan [2004] 2 A.C. 557 at [33]; R. (Anderson) v Secretary of State for the
Home Department [2003] 1 A.C. 837 HL.
77 Ghaidan [2004] 2 A.C. 557 at [33].
81 Bellinger v Bellinger [2003] 2 A.C. 467 HL. See also, R. (Chester) v Secretary
UKHL 32; R. (Wright) v Secretary of State for Health [2009] 1 A.C. 739 HL; R.
(F) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2011] 1 A.C. 331 SC;
Benkharbouche v Embassy of Sudan [2015] EWCA Civ 33; In re Z a (A Child)
(Surrogate Father: Parental Order) [2015] 1 W.L.R. 4993 FC; R. (Miranda) v
Secretary of State for the Home Department [2016] 1 W.L.R. 1505 CA (Civ
Div); R. (Reilly) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2016] EWCA Civ
413; R. (Independent Workers Union of Great Britain) v Central Arbitration
Committee [2018] EWHC 3342 (Admin); Steinfeld [2020] A.C. 1; S. Wilson
Stark, “Finding Facts: Judicial Approaches to Section 4 of the Human Rights
Act 1998” (2017) 133 L.Q.R 631.
87 A v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2005] 2 A.C. 68 HL; R.
(Wilkinson) v Inland Revenue Commissioners [2005] 1 W.L.R. 1718 HL; R.
(Clift) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2007] 1 A.C. 484 HL.
88 G. Marshall, “Interpreting Interpretation in the Human Rights Bill” [1998]
P.L. 167; D. Pannick, “Principles of Interpretation of Convention Rights under
the Human Rights Act and the Discretionary Area of Judgment” [1998] P.L.
545; G. Marshall, “Two Kinds of Compatibility: More about Section 3 of the
Human Rights Act 1998” [1999] P.L. 377; Lord Lester of Herne Hill, “The Art
of the Possible: Interpreting Statutes under the Human Rights Act” in University
of Cambridge Centre for Public Law, The Human Rights Act and the Criminal
Justice and Regulatory Process (1999); F. Bennion, “What Interpretation is
‘Possible’ under Section 3(1) of the Human Rights Act 1998?” [2000] P.L. 77;
C. Gearty, “Reconciling Parliamentary Democracy and Human Rights” (2002)
118 L.Q.R. 248; R. Clayton, “The Limits of What’s ‘Possible’: Statutory
Construction under the Human Rights Act” [2002] E.H.R.L.R. 559; G.
Phillipson, “(Mis)-reading Section 3 of the Human Rights Act” (2003) 119
L.Q.R. 183; C. Gearty, “Revisiting Section 3(1) of the Human Rights Act”
(2003) 119 L.Q.R. 551; R. Ekins, “A Critique of Radical Approaches to Rights
Consistent Statutory Interpretation” [2003] E.H.R.L.R. 641; D. Nicol, “Statutory
Interpretation and Human Rights after Anderson” [2004] P.L. 274; A. Kavanagh,
“Statutory Interpretation and Human Rights after Anderson: A More Contextual
Approach” [2004] P.L. 537; A. Kavanagh, “The Elusive Divide between
Interpretation and Legislation under the Human Rights Act 1998” (2004) 24
O.J.L.S. 259; A. Kavanagh, “Unlocking the Human Rights Act: The ‘Radical’
Approach to Section 3(1) Revisited” [2005] E.H.R.L.R. 259; A. Young,
“Ghaidan v Godin-Mendoza: Avoiding the Deference Trap” [2005] P.L. 23; A.
Kavanagh, “The Role of Parliamentary Intention in Adjudication under the
Human Rights Act 1998” (2006) 26 O.J.L.S. 179; P. Sales, “A Comparison of
the Principle of Legality and Section 3 HRA” (2009) 125 L.Q.R. 598; R.
Buxton, “The Future of Declarations of Incompatibility” [2010] P.L. 213.
89 See, e.g. the critique by Buxton, “The Future of Declarations of
Incompatibility” [2010] P.L. 213 of R. (H) v Secretary of State for Health [2006]
1 A.C. 441 and R. (Nasseri) v Secretary of State for the Home Department
[2010] 1 A.C. 1.
90 Ghaidan [2004] 2 A.C. 557.
92 Sir J. Beatson, “Common Law, Statute and Constitutional Law” [2006] Stat.
L. Rev. 1, 13−14.
93 For consideration of the territorial scope of s.6 of the HRA, Quark Fishing
99 See also R. (H) v Secretary of State for Health [2006] 1 A.C. 441 HL.
100 RR v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2019] 1 W.L.R. 6430 SC.
101 R. (Hooper) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2005] 1 W.L.R.
1681 HL.
102 Hooper [2005] 1 W.L.R. 1681 at [51], [70], [92], [105].
104 Hooper [2005] 1 W.L.R. 1681 at [72]−[73], Lord Hope gave the following
cases as examples: Alconbury [2003] 2 A.C. 295; and R. v Kansal (No.2) [2002]
A.C. 69 at [86]−[88].
105 Hooper [2005] 1 W.L.R. 1681 at [73].
111 D. Oliver, “The Frontiers of the State: Public Authorities and Public
Functions under the Human Rights Act” [2000] PL. 476; G. Morris, “Public
Employment and the Human Rights Act 1998” [2001] P.L. 442.
112 HC Deb., col.775 (16 February 1998).
113 Aston Cantlow and Wilmcote with Billesley Parochial Church Council v
Wallbank [2004] 1 A.C. 546 HL.
114 Aston Cantlow [2004] 1 A.C. 546 at [7].
129 YL [2008] 1 A.C. 95 at [5]−[11]. Lord Bingham dissented on the facts, but
that does not undermine the force of his observations as to the approach to be
adopted to deciding on the meaning of a hybrid public authority; TH v Chapter
of Worcester Cathedral [2016] EWHC 1117; Warsama v Foreign and
Commonwealth Office [2020] 3 W.L.R. 351 CA (Civ Div); R. (Cornerstone
(North East) Adoption and Fostering Service Ltd) v OFSTED [2020] EWHC
1679; Ali v Serco Ltd, 2020 S.C. 182.
130 YL [2008] 1 A.C. 95 at [64]−[72].
134 Aston Cantlow [2004] 1 A.C. 546 at [52], [55], [87]; YL [2008] 1 A.C. 95 at
[12].
135 Aston Cantlow PCC v Wallbank [2002] Ch. 51 CA (Civ Div).
(Civ Div).
141 The National Assistance Act 1948 s.21(1), required the local authority to
provide accommodation for the claimants, being people who by reason of age,
illness or disability were in need of care and attention that was not otherwise
available to them.
142 National Assistance Act 1948 s.21(4)−(5).
155 P. Craig, “Contracting Out, the Human Rights Act and the Scope of Judicial
Review” (2002) 118 L.Q.R. 551; M. Sunkin, “Pushing Forward the Frontiers of
Human Rights Protection: The Meaning of Public Authority under the Human
Rights Act” [2004] P.L. 643; C. Donnelly, “Leonard Cheshire Again and
Beyond: Private Contractors, Contract and Section 6(3)(b) of the Human Rights
Act” [2005] P.L. 785; H. Quane, “The Strasbourg Jurisprudence and the
Meaning of a ‘Public Authority’ under the Human Rights Act” [2006] P.L. 106;
Joint Committee on Human Rights, Ninth Report: The Meaning of Public
Authority under the Human Rights Act, HL Paper No.77, HC Paper No.410
(Session 2006−07); C. Donnelly, Delegation of Governmental Power to Private
Parties, A Comparative Perspective (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007),
Ch.6; S. Palmer, “Public, Private and the Human Rights Act 1998: An
Ideological Divide” (2007) 66 C.L.J. 559; A. Williams, “YL v Birmingham City
Council: Contracting out and ‘Functions of a Public Nature’” [2008] E.H.R.L.R.
524; Lord Pannick, “Functions of a Public Nature” [2009] J.R. 109; C.
Campbell, “The Nature of the Power as Public in English Judicial Review”
(2009) 68 C.L.J. 90; C. Donnelly, “Positive Obligations and Privatisation”
(2010) 61 N.I.L.Q. 209; A. Williams, “A Fresh Perspective on Hybrid Public
Authorities under the Human Rights Act 1998: Private Contractors, Rights-
stripping and ‘Chameleonic’ Horizontal Effect” [2011] P.L. 139; S. Choudry,
“Children in ‘Care’ after YL—The Ineffectiveness of Contract as a means of
Protecting the Vulnerable” [2015] P.L. 519; K. Gledhill, “The Public Function
Test: Have we Been Asking the Right Question?” [2015] J.R. 73; A. Williams,
“Public Authorities and the HRA 1998: Recent Trends” [2017] J.R. 247.
156 YL [2008] 1 A.C. 95 at [49].
157 The actual wording of the National Assistance Act 1948 s.21(1) is that the
local authority shall “make arrangements for providing”. This is simply
reflective of the fact that the local authority has choice under the legislation as to
how the duty should be fulfilled. It does not mean that there is no duty in relation
to the provision of the accommodation. This reading would make no sense of the
legislative scheme and is inconsistent with, for example s.21(4).
158 YL [2008] 1 A.C. 95 at [16].
159 R. (Weaver) v London and Quadrant Housing Trust [2010] 1 W.L.R. 363 CA
(Civ Div).
160 This did not however render all relations between the care home and local
authority to be of a public nature for the purposes of judicial review, R.
(Broadway Care Centre Ltd) v Caerphilly CBC [2012] EWHC 37 (Admin).
161 Joint Committee on Human Rights, Ninth Report: The Meaning of Public
Authority under the Human Rights Act, para.150.
162 M. Hunt, “The ‘Horizontal Effect’ of the Human Rights Act” [1998] P.L.
165 See, e.g. Ashdown v Telegraph Group Ltd [2002] Ch. 149; Ghaidan [2004] 2
A.C. 557; CGU International Insurance Plc v Astrazeneca Insurance Co Ltd
[2006] EWCA Civ 1340; Mykoliw v Botterill [2010] CSOH 84.
166 The argument for direct horizontality is put by Wade, “Horizons of
Horizontality” (2000) 116 L.Q.R. 217; and Pattinson and Beyleveld, “Horizontal
Applicability and Horizontal Effect” (2002) 118 L.Q.R. 623.
167 Hammerton v Hammerton [2007] EWCA Civ 248.
168 Hunt, “The ‘Horizontal Effect’ of the Human Rights Act” [1998] P.L. 423,
440.
169 HL Deb., col 783 (24 November 1997).
170 Hunt, “The ‘Horizontal Effect’ of the Human Rights Act” [1998] P.L. 423;
173 Young, “Remedial and Substantive Horizontality: The Common Law and
Douglas v Hello! Ltd” [2002] P.L. 232; Phillipson, “The Human Rights Act,
‘Horizontal Effect’ and the Common Law: A Bang or a Whimper” (1999) 62
M.L.R. 824.
174 Young, “Remedial and Substantive Horizontality: The Common Law and
Douglas v Hello! Ltd” [2002] P.L. 232, 236.
175 Hunt, “The ‘Horizontal Effect’ of the Human Rights Act” [1998] P.L. 423,
434−435, 441−442.
176 Du Plessis v Du Klerk, 1996 3 S.A. 850 at 914−915, Kriegler J.
A.C. 1 SC.
182 HRA s.7(9).
183 HRA s.7(6).
184 Defined as a judicial act of a court, including an act done on the instructions,
or on behalf, of a judge, HRA s.9(5).
185 HRA s.9(1).
187 Dunn v Parole Board [2009] 1 W.L.R. 728 CA (Civ Div); M (A Child) v
Ministry of Justice [2009] EWCA Civ 419.
188 Cameron v Network Rail Infrastructure Ltd (formerly Railtrack Plc) [2007] 1
W.L.R. 163 QBD; XYZ v Chief Constable of Gwent [2014] EWHC 1448 (QB);
O’Connor v Bar Standards Board [2017] 1 W.L.R. 4833 SC.
189 Similar considerations affect judicial review actions, see Ch.27.
191 Savage v South Essex Partnership NHS Foundation Trust [2009] 1 A.C. 681
195 Mathieson v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2015] UKSC 47; JT v
First-tier Tribunal [2019] 1 W.L.R. 1313; RR v Secretary of State for Work and
Pensions [2019] 1 W.L.R. 6430.
196 See Ch.30.
W.L.R. 840 CA (Civ Div) at 857. See also, R. v Secretary of State for the Home
Department, Ex p. Isiko [2001] H.R.L.R. 15 CA (Civ Div) at [30]−[31].
204 R. v Ministry of Defence, Ex p. Smith [1996] Q.B. 517 CA (Civ Div).
205 Smith and Grady v United Kingdom (2000) 29 E.H.R.R. 493 at [138].
211 Pham v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2015] UKSC 19 at
[60], [95], [109]–[110]. Lord Neuberger, Lord Wilson and Lady Hale agreed
with Lord Carnwath, Lord Mance and Lord Sumption.
212 R. (Begum) v Denbigh High School Governors [2007] 1 A.C. 100 HL.
213 Huang [2007] 2 A.C. 167; Machado v Secretary of State for the Home
216 R. (Lord Carlile of Berriew QC) v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2014] UKSC 60.
217 Denbigh [2007] 1 A.C. 100 at [30].
218 Miss Behavin’ [2007] 1 W.L.R. 1420 at [13], [44], [88]; DL v Newham BC
[2011] EWHC 1127; R. (Law Society) v Lord Chancellor [2018] EWHC 2094
(Admin) at [132]; Dulgheriu v Ealing LBC [2020] 1 W.L.R. 609 CA (Civ Div)
at [64], [69].
219 Bank Mellat [2013] UKSC 39 at [21], [71]; R. v Ministry of Agriculture,
Fisheries and Food Ex p. First City Trading [1997] 1 C.M.L.R. 250 at 278−279.
220 Carlile [2014] UKSC 60 at [20], [31], [57]–[58], [67]–[68], [86]–[89], [105],
[111]. See also, R. (Keyu) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth
Affairs [2016] A.C. 1355 SC at [272]; R. (Begley) v Secretary of State for Justice
[2018] EWHC 2714.
221 General Medical Council v Michalak [2017] 1 W.L.R. 4193, SC at [20]–[22].
222 The relevant legislation may, however, be interpreted so as to give the court
broader power to decide the issue de novo, as in Huang [2007] 2 A.C. 167.
223 R. (R) v Chief Constable of Greater Manchester Police [2018] 1 W.L.R.
4079 SC at [53].
224 Ali v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2016] 1 W.L.R. 4799 SC
at [39]–[50].
225 Kiarie v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2017] 1 W.L.R. 2380
SC at [42]–[43].
226 Bank Mellat [2013] UKSC 39 at [74]; In Re Brewster [2017] 1 W.L.R. 519
231 Samaroo [2001] U.K.H.R.R. 1150; Farrakhan [2002] Q.B. 1391; Ponting
[2002] EWCA Civ 224; Langley v Liverpool City Council [2005] EWCA Civ
1173; Miss Behavin’ [2008] 1 A.C. 1420; Denbigh [2007] 1 A.C. 100;
Countryside Alliance [2008] 1 A.C. 719; R. (MM (Lebanon)) v Secretary of State
for the Home Department [2017] 1 W.L.R. 771 SC.
232 Roth [2003] Q.B. 728 at [83]−[87]; R. (Wilson) v Wychavon DC [2007]
EWCA Civ 52.
233 Denbigh [2007] 1 A.C. 100 at [33].
258 R. (P and Q and QB) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2001] 1
W.L.R. 2002 CA (Civ Div); Samaroo [2001] U.K.H.R.R. 1150; Farrakhan
[2002] Q.B. 1391.
259 R. (ProLife Alliance) v BBC [2004] 1 A.C. 185 HL at [75]−[76]; Carlile
[2015] A.C. 945 SC at [22].
260 ProLife Alliance [2004] 1 A.C. 185 at [76].
261 Huang v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2007] 2 A.C. 167 HL
at [14].
262 Huang [2007] 2 A.C. 167 at [16].
280 A reading of the leading cases on arts 8−11 reveals the close attention paid
by the ECtHR to the reasons given by the national authorities to determine
whether they could be said to meet the criterion of pressing social need. Many
cases are decided at this point, with the ECtHR deciding that the reasons
advanced by the state do not suffice to show a pressing social need.
281 R. (Aguilar Quila) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2011]
UKSC 45.
282 Clayton, “Judicial Deference and ‘Democratic Dialogue’: The Legitimacy of
Judicial Intervention under the Human Rights Act” [2004] P.L. 33; Clayton,
“Principles for Judicial Deference” [2006] J.R. 109; Hickman, “Constitutional
Dialogue, Constitutional Theories and the Human Rights Act” [2005] P.L. 306;
D. Nicol, “Law and Politics after the Human Rights Act” [2006] P.L. 722; T.
Hickman, “The Courts and Politics after the Human Rights Act: A Comment”
[2008] P.L. 84; A. Young, “Is Dialogue Working under the Human Rights Act
1998?” [2011] P.L. 773; P. Sales and R. Ekins, “Rights-Consistent Interpretation
and the Human Rights Act 1998” (2011) 127 L.Q.R. 217; Young, Democratic
Dialogue and the Constitution (2017).
283 Hickman, “Constitutional Dialogue, Constitutional Theories and the Human
Rights Act” [2005] P.L. 306.
284 Nicol, “Law and Politics after the Human Rights Act” [2006] P.L. 722.
285 Hickman, “The Courts and Politics after the Human Rights Act: A
288 Sales and Ekins, “Rights-Consistent Interpretation and the Human Rights Act
1998” (2011) 127 L.Q.R. 217.
289 Subject to the discussion concerning HRA s.2 at para.20–004.
291 P. Hogg and A. Bushell, “The Charter Dialogue between Courts and
Legislatures (or perhaps the Charter isn’t such a bad thing after all)” (1997) 35
Osgoode Hall L.J. 75; P. Hogg, A. Bushell-Thornton and W. Wright, “Charter
Dialogue Revisited—Or ‘Much Ado About Metaphors’” (2007) 45 Osgoode
Hall L.J. 51.
292 C. Manfredi and J. Kelly, “Six Degrees of Dialogue: A Response to Hogg
and Bushell” (1999) 37 Osgoode Hall L.J. 513; P. Hogg and A. Thornton,
“Reply to Six Dialogues” (1999) 37 Osgoode Hall L.J. 529.
293 G. Huscroft, “Rationalizing Judicial Power: The Mischief of Dialogue
Theory”, in C. Manfredi and J. Kelly (eds), Contested Constitutionalism:
Reflections on the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms (Vancouver:
University of British Columbia Press, 2009), Ch.3.
294 G. Huscroft, “Constitutionalism from the Top Down” (2007) 45 Osgoode
Hall L.J. 91; A. Petter, “Taking Dialogue Theory Much Too Seriously (Or
Perhaps Charter Dialogue Isn’t Such a Good Thing After All)” (2007) 45
Osgoode Hall L.J. 147.
295 Huscroft, “Constitutionalism from the Top Down” (2007) 45 Osgoode Hall
L.J. 91.
296 Allan, “Human Rights and Judicial Review: A Critique of ‘Due Deference’”
[2006] C.L.J. 671; and “Judicial Deference and Judicial Review: Legal Doctrine
and Legal Theory” (2011) 127 L.Q.R. 96.
297 Allan, “Common Law Reason and the Limits of Judicial Deference”, in D.
Dyzenhaus (ed.), The Unity of Public Law (2004), p.97.
298 See, e.g. Samaroo [2001] U.K.H.R.R. 1150; R. (Bloggs 61) v Secretary of
State for the Home Department [2003] 1 W.L.R. 2724; Denbigh [2007] 1 A.C.
100.
299 Dyzenhaus, “The Politics of Deference: Judicial Review and Democracy”, in
Taggart (ed.), The Province of Administrative Law (1997); Taggart, “The Tub of
Public Law”, in Dyzenhaus (ed.), The Unity of Public Law (2004).
300 P. Craig, “Constitutional Principle, the Rule of Law and Political Reality:
The European Union (Withdrawal) Act 2018” (2019) 82 M.L.R. 319; M. Elliott
and S. Tierney, “Political Pragmatism and Constitutional Principle: the European
Union (Withdrawal) Act 2018” [2019] P.L. 37.
301 EUWA Sch.1 para.2.
2018), pp.508–511.
307 Charter of Fundamental Rights art.52(2).
310 Agreement on the withdrawal of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and
Northern Ireland from the European Union and the European Atomic Energy
Community, [2019] OJ C384 I/01, art.127.
CHAPTER 21
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
21–001 i. This chapter is concerned with rationality and proportionality,
and their respective roles in judicial review of administrative
action.
ii. The traditional position in UK law has been to test administrative
action for rationality. This control is exercised after the court is
satisfied that the challenged action withstands scrutiny under the
tests of propriety of purpose and relevancy considered in an
earlier chapter.1 The traditional form of rationality review has
been limited: the court has to be satisfied that the challenged
decision was so unreasonable that it would not have been made
by any reasonable public authority. This narrow test was
fashioned on the assumption that the public body had passed the
hurdles of purpose and relevancy and was therefore within the
“four corners” of its power. It was felt therefore that judicial
intervention on grounds of rationality should be very limited.
Whether this assumption is warranted will be considered later.
iii. The judiciary modified this very narrow form of rationality
review in fundamental rights cases. Courts have also used more
searching rationality review even in some cases where there are
no fundamental rights, because the traditional version of
rationality review, literally interpreted, would almost never give a
claimant protection.
iv. Review for proportionality is at present required in a limited
number of areas, principally in cases decided under the Human
Rights Act 1998, and in some instances where EU law is still
binding on the UK pursuant to the Withdrawal Agreement. It is
also used in some cases dealing with legitimate expectations.
Proportionality is not at present a general head of review in UK
law. Whether it should be will be examined later.
v. This chapter begins by considering two foundational points: the
limits of substantive intervention, and the interrelationship
between procedural and substantive review. The focus then shifts
to the Wednesbury test of rationality review, and considers the
assumptions underlying the test, the way in which it is used at
present and its likely future. This leads to discussion of
proportionality. It begins with analysis of the meaning of
proportionality, followed by examination of its place in UK law.
The chapter concludes by considering the future roles of
rationality and proportionality and whether the latter should be a
general head of judicial review.
cannot pay their nurses as much as they would like; they cannot provide all the treatments
they would like; they cannot purchase all the extremely expensive medical equipment they
would like; they cannot carry out all the research they would like; they cannot build all the
hospitals and specialist units they would like. Difficult and agonising judgments have to be
made as to how a limited budget is best allocated to the maximum advantage of the
maximum number of patients. That is not a judgment which the court can make. In my
judgment, it is not something that a health authority such as this authority can be fairly
criticised for not advancing before the court.”
21–003 While all accept that it is not for the courts to substitute judgment, it is
also recognised that there should be some control over the rationality
of the decisions made by the administration. This is exemplified by
Rogers.6 The defendant had funds available to provide treatment with
a breast cancer drug for all patients who fulfilled the clinical
requirements for such treatment and whose clinician prescribed it.
However, its policy was to refuse funding for such treatment, save
where exceptional personal or clinical circumstances could be shown.
The Court of Appeal held that the defendant’s policy was irrational,
since there were no relevant exceptional circumstances that could
justify giving the drug to one patient rather than another.
The theme that runs throughout this area is therefore the desire to
fashion a criterion that will allow judicial control, without thereby
leading to substitution of judgment, or too great an intrusion on the
merits. The distinction found in some case law and literature between
merits review and non-merits review is, nonetheless, not especially
helpful. All tests of substantive judicial review entail the judiciary in
taking some view of the merits of the contested action. This is so even
in relation to the classic Wednesbury test.7 What distinguishes
different tests for review is not whether they consider the merits or not,
but the stringency of the judicial scrutiny. It is possible to range
different tests for review along a spectrum. Classic, limited
Wednesbury review is at one end of the spectrum, judicial substitution
of judgment, whereby the court imposes what it believes to be the
correct result lies at the opposite end of the spectrum. Heightened
Wednesbury review and proportionality occupy intermediate
positions,8 with the latter being more intensive than the former.
21–011 The courts have “loosened” the Wednesbury test in some cases that
have nothing to do with fundamental rights. They have, for example,
applied the test to discretionary decisions that could not, whether right
or wrong, be classified as of the “red hair type”. The test has been used
in the planning sphere to invalidate conditions attached to planning
permission. An obligation on the developer to construct an ancillary
road over the frontage of the site, to which rights of passage should be
given to others,29 was struck down, so too was an obligation that a
property developer should allow those on a council housing list to
occupy the houses with security of tenure for 10 years.30 The test has
also been adopted
in the context of industrial relations.31 These cases may have been
correctly decided. It is, however, difficult to regard the challenged
subject-matter as determinations that were so unreasonable that no
reasonable authority could have made them, at least not when viewed
as Lord Greene MR visualised the notion. The test was applied in a
way that made it closer to asking whether the court believed that the
exercise of discretion was reasonable.32
This became more explicit in later cases. In Saville,33 Lord Woolf
MR held that to label a decision as irrational would often not do justice
to the decision-maker, who could be the most rational of persons. In
many such cases the true explanation for the decision being flawed
was that although such perversity could not be established, the
decision-maker had misdirected itself in law. In Balchin,34 Sedley J
held that a decision would be Wednesbury unreasonable if it disclosed
an error of reasoning, which robbed the decision of its logical
integrity. If such an error could be shown then it was not necessary for
the applicant to demonstrate that the decision-maker was “temporarily
unhinged”. In Coughlan,35 the court held that rationality covered not
only decisions that defied comprehension, but also those made by
“flawed logic”.36 In Kennedy,37 Lord Mance held that the common law
no longer insisted on the uniform application of the rigid test of
irrationality once thought applicable under the so-called Wednesbury
principle and that the nature of judicial review in each case depended
upon the context.38 This was reiterated in Pham.39 It is nonetheless
still the case
that the traditional Wednesbury test can be a significant hurdle in many
cases,40 and that the great majority of such challenges fail.
The loosening of Lord Greene’s test received explicit support from
Lord Cooke in the ITF case.41 He regarded the formulation used by
Lord Greene as tautologous and exaggerated. It was not, said Lord
Cooke, necessary to have such an extreme formulation in order to
ensure that the courts remained within their proper bounds as required
by the separation of powers. He advocated a simpler and less extreme
test: was the decision one that a reasonable authority could have
reached. Lord Cooke returned to the topic in more forthright terms in
Daly42:
“[I] think that the day will come when it will be more widely recognised that … Wednesbury
… was an unfortunately retrogressive decision in English administrative law, insofar as it
suggested that there are degrees of unreasonableness and that only a very extreme degree can
bring an administrative decision within the legitimate scope of judicial invalidation. The
depth of judicial review and the deference due to administrative discretion vary with the
subject matter. It may well be, however, that the law can never be satisfied in any
administrative field by a finding that the decision under review is not capricious or absurd.”
i. Proportionality: Brind
The court will decide how intensively to apply these criteria, which
may require the court to consider alternative strategies for attaining
the desired end. This follows from the fact that the court will, in
fundamental rights cases, consider whether there was a less restrictive
method for attaining the desired objective. The need to consider
alternative strategies may well also arise in other cases. Where the
decision is of a technical or professional nature it may require
specialist evidence as to the practicability of alternative strategies.93
C. Proportionality: Application
21–022 The proportionality test might well produce differing results depending
upon the circumstances of the case. That much is obvious. We can,
however, go further in providing some guidance as to how
proportionality will be applied in differing types of case. Three types
of case can be differentiated. It will be seen that proportionality is
easier to apply in the first two situations than it is in the third.
21–023 The first type of situation is where the discretion impinges upon, or
clashes with, a recognised fundamental right. Proportionality is part of
the test for review under the HRA, and there is authority that
proportionality also applies in relation to fundamental rights
recognised at common law.94 UK courts must take the jurisprudence of
the European Court of Human Rights on proportionality into account,
even though it is not binding on them.
It is clear as a matter of principle that some such test should apply
in this area, quite apart from the persuasive force of the Strasbourg
case law. The reason is as follows. If we recognise certain interests as
being of particular importance, and categorise them as fundamental
rights, then this renders proportionality the natural standard of review.
This is because the very denomination of an interest as a
fundamental right means that any invasion should be kept to a
minimum. It can be accepted that many rights are not absolute, and
that therefore some limitations may be warranted. Nonetheless there is
a presumption that any inroad should interfere with the right as little as
possible, and no more than is merited by the occasion. It is natural,
therefore, to ask whether the interference with the fundamental right
was the least restrictive possible in the circumstances. Proportionality
review is facilitated because the fundamental nature of the interest,
such as freedom of speech, has been acknowledged, although the court
must still decide whether the invasion of the right was proportionate,
and this may well be controversial.
21–025 The third type of case covers those situations not dealt with by the
previous two. There are no fundamental rights at stake, and no
excessive penalties. The paradigm of this third category is where the
public body decides to exercise its discretion in a particular manner,
this necessitates the balancing of various interests, and a person
affected argues that the balancing was disproportionate. The
application of a proportionality test may be more difficult in this type
of case.
This is in part because it requires us to weight, for example, the
respective values of ratepayers and transport users in a Fares Fair96
type of case. It is in part because many administrative decisions
involve balancing, which is the essence of political determinations and
administrative choices. It cannot therefore be right
for the judiciary to overturn a decision merely because the court would
have balanced the conflicting interests differently. This would amount
to substitution of judgment by any other name.
This does not mean that proportionality has no role to play in this
type of case. This is especially so given that administrative policy
choices should be susceptible to judicial scrutiny.97 What it does mean
is that the intensity of proportionality review is crucial in this type of
case. A less intensive form of proportionality review can, however, be
utilised for cases in this area, as exemplified by the EU jurisprudence
on proportionality.98
i. Practical objection
21–029 The practical objection is that rationality review cast in these terms110
would almost never avail claimants. We live in the real world, and the
consequences of any test must be evaluated with respect to real world
situations, not hypothetical examples, however famous they might be.
The classic example of the decision that is so unreasonable that no
reasonable public authority would have made it is the dismissal of the
teacher because of the colour of her hair. Lord Diplock spoke in
similarly extreme terms.
Taggart’s solution is therefore dependent on the claimant in a case
concerning “public wrongs” being able to prove irrationality of this
magnitude. It will rarely
if ever be possible. This test, if taken seriously, constitutes an almost
insurmountable hurdle for claimants. Decisions of such extremity
might in principle occur. This should not mask the reality, which is
that it is very difficult to come up with real world cases in which such
extreme irrationality has been present. It is for this very reason that the
reality in terms of positive law111 is that the courts have stretched the
concept of rationality, often without admitting that they are doing so,
and used it to catch administrative action that could not be regarded as
coming within the very narrow sense of rationality advanced by Lord
Greene and Lord Diplock. We shall return to this point.
There is a further reason why the protection afforded by the
Taggart approach would be so limited. Standard theory is predicated,
as we have seen, on the assumption that controls cast in reasonableness
only come into play when the public body has successfully negotiated
the hurdles of purpose and relevancy. This is indeed the assumption
that underpins the Wednesbury test. It furnishes in part the rationale for
the limited nature of reasonableness review, since the assumption is
that the public body has taken account of all relevant considerations.
The legal reality is rather different. Controls cast in terms of relevancy
can only be used where the claimant can show that the legislation
required the particular consideration to be taken into account. If the
claimant cannot do so, then the choice of considerations is left to the
public body, subject only to review on Wednesbury grounds.112 The
legislation may, however, be unclear in this respect. This serves to
explain why there are relatively few successful challenges framed in
terms of relevancy. The salient point for present purposes is that in
many cases Wednesbury reasonableness review is the only control
over discretion, which if interpreted in the very narrow sense
articulated by Lord Greene and Lord Diplock affords very limited
control over discretion and scant protection for the claimant.
i. Simplicity
21–034 It would, other things being equal, be advantageous for the same test to
be used to deal with claims arising under the HRA, and other non-
HRA domestic law challenges. This is particularly so because it will
be common to find two such claims in an application for judicial
review. There will, moreover, be difficult borderline cases concerning
application of the HRA. The nature of the test to be applied should not
differ radically depending on which side of the borderline a case is
said to fall.
21–037 EU law shows that proportionality can be applied with varying degrees
of intensity so as to accommodate different types of decision subject to
judicial review.118 Thus, low intensity proportionality review is used
whenever there is broad discretion involving political, economic or
social choices requiring complex assessments to be made. A decision
will only be overturned if it is “manifestly disproportionate” to the
objective being pursued.119 If proportionality were to become a
general head of review this does not therefore mean that it would apply
in the same way to rights and non-rights cases. This has not been
advocated by any commentator, it is not demanded by the concept of
proportionality, nor is it required by judicial doctrine. There is an
emerging sophisticated body of work elaborating the types of factor
that should be taken
into account in deciding on the appropriate intensity of review in cases
concerned with resource allocation and social and economic rights.120
EU law reveals the benefits of proportionality review, even where
it is applied with low intensity. It is often assumed that low intensity
proportionality review is much the same as the Wednesbury test. The
conclusion reached on the respective tests may be the same, but this
nonetheless masks important differences in the way they are applied.
Thus, the structured form of the proportionality inquiry will normally
lead the ECJ to examine the arguments of the parties in a degree of
detail that is rarely found in cases employing the Wednesbury test.121
D. Proportionality as the General Criterion of Review:
Arguments Against
i. Intrusive
21–038 It is argued that proportionality allows too great an intrusion into the
merits. Proportionality does not, however, entail substitution of
judgment on the merits by the courts for that of the agency.122
Proportionality does entail some view about the merits, since
otherwise the three-part inquiry could not be undertaken. The test is
also applied with varying intensity of review. However, the way in
which Lord Greene’s test has been applied in practice to strike down
agency action falling short of the absurd also demands some view of
the merits. The same can be said a fortiori about the revised meaning
of the reasonableness test proposed by Lord Cooke. Arguments to the
effect that proportionality is too intrusive are therefore predicated on
some assumption as to what the appropriate intensity of review should
be, which brings us back to the earlier inquiry.
I do not believe that adherence to very low intensity rationality
review cast in terms of the Lord Greene/Diplock test is desirable, nor
do I believe that it is demanded by the separation of powers. In
practical terms, litigants would rarely get beyond the court door if the
strictures of this version of the rationality test were taken seriously. In
normative terms, it has never been apparent precisely why the
separation of powers is thought to demand this exiguous form of
judicial oversight. Nor is it self-evident why the divide between rights
and non-rights based cases is felt to warrant this chasm in the test for
judicial review. This is more especially so, given that the more
demanding test used in relation to rights is premised on the assertion
that a right might have been infringed, not that it necessarily has been.
There are many interests falling short of rights that are of
real importance for individuals, which warrant meaningful judicial
oversight, even if this is not as intense as that which pertains in rights-
based cases.123
There is, moreover, no reason to believe that the level of
proportionality protection would be pitched at too high a level, simply
because the test is cast in terms of necessity. This is a concern voiced
by King.124 He argues that rationality admits of more than one
solution, and hence is capable of embracing the disagreement that
characterises plural societies. He maintains that necessity is an
absolute and precludes the taking account of such differences of view.
This does not cohere with the application of the necessity test by
courts in the UK, EU or ECHR. Thus to take one example, Lord
Sumption in Bank Mellat rejected counsel’s suggestion that a measure
would be disproportionate if any more limited measure was capable of
achieving the objective. The “effectiveness of the measure and the
degree of interference are not absolute values but questions of degree,
inversely related to each other”, and thus the question was whether “a
less intrusive measure could have been used without unacceptably
compromising the objective”.125 The very fact that some measure of
deference/respect/weight is accorded to the primary decision-maker
even in rights-based cases serves, moreover, to moderate the
application of necessity, thereby enabling the views of the executive or
legislature to be taken into account when deciding whether the action
was indeed necessary. This is reflective of the fact that people can
disagree as to whether action is indeed necessary, and that the views of
the legislature or executive may be deserving of respect/weight in that
regard. This is of course a fortiori so in relation to the application of
proportionality in non-rights based cases.
ii. Inappropriate
iv. Cost
1 See Ch.19.
9 First City Trading [1997] 1 C.M.L.R. 250 at 279; R. (L) v Manchester City
Council [2002] A.C.D. 45 QBD at [15]−[16].
10 R. (Aguilar Quila) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2011]
UKSC 45.
11 C. Lindblom, “The Science of Muddling Through” (1959) 19 Pub. Adm. Rev.
79; D. Braybrooke and C. Lindblom, A Strategy of Decision, Policy Evaluation
as a Social Process (New York: Free Press, 1963).
12 I. Harden and N. Lewis, The Noble Lie, The British Constitution and the Rule
18 Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister for the Civil Service [1985] A.C.
374 HL at 410.
19 Short v Poole Corp [1926] Ch. 66.
20 Williams v Giddy [1911] A.C. 381; UKAPE v ACAS [1981] A.C. 424 HL.
21 See paras 19–015 to 19–020; R. (DSD) v Parole Board [2019] Q.B. 285 DC.
31 UKAPE [1981] A.C. 424. See also, R. v Boundary Commission for England,
CA (Civ Div).
36 Coughlan [2001] Q.B. 213 at [65].
37 Kennedy [2014] UKSC 20 at [51]. Lord Neuberger and Lord Clarke agreed.
[2000] 1 W.L.R. 1115 CA (Civ Div) at 1130; Sheffield City Council v Smart
[2002] EWCA Civ 4 at [42].
39 Pham [2015] UKSC 19 at [94], [109]–[110]. Lord Neuberger, Lady Hale and
Lord Wilson agreed.
40 See, e.g., R. (J) v Special Educational Needs and Disability Tribunal
and the Crooked Cord, Essays in Honour of Sir William Wade (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1998).
50 P. Craig, “Unreasonableness and Proportionality in UK Law”, in E. Ellis (ed.),
The Principle of Proportionality in the Laws of Europe (Oxford: Hart
Publishing, 1999), pp.85−106.
51 See, however, Sir J. Laws, “Law and Democracy” [1995] P.L. 72; and “The
Constitution: Morals and Rights” [1996] P.L. 622; Lord Woolf, “Droit Public—
English Style” [1995] P.L. 57.
52 This is so even taking account of the discussion in the previous section.
58 See also, R. (S) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2007] EWCA
Civ 546 at [39]−[45].
59 See Ch.22.
60 See para.20–044.
71 See, e.g. R. v International Stock Exchange of the United Kingdom and the
Republic of Ireland Ltd, Ex p. Else (1982) Ltd [1993] B.C.C. 11 CA (Civ Div);
R. v Chief Constable of Kent, Ex p. Absalom, 5 May 1993; R. v Secretary of
State for the Home Department, Ex p. Hargreaves [1997] 1 All E.R. 397.
72 R. (Association of British Civilian Internees: Far East Region) v Secretary of
State for Defence [2003] Q.B. 1397 CA (Civ Div) at [34]−[35].
73 Keyu v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs [2015]
UKSC 69; Browne v Parole Board for England and Wales [2018] EWCA Civ
2024.
74 P. Craig, “Proportionality and Judicial Review: A UK Historical Perspective”,
Civ 1363.
78 Brind [1991] 1 A.C. 696 at 751.
79 Smith [1996] Q.B. 517; Bugdaycay v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [1987] A.C. 514 HL at 531; R. v Secretary of State for the Home
Department, Ex p. Leech [1994] Q.B. 198 CA (Civ Div); R. v Secretary of State
for the Home Department, Ex p. McQuillan [1995] 4 All E.R. 400 QBD; Saville
[1999] 4 All E.R. 860 at [34]−[37]; See para.19–022.
80 R. (Youssef) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
Wilson and Lady Hale agreed with Lord Carnwath, Lord Mance and Lord
Sumption.
87 Pham [2015] UKSC 19 at [105], [107].
90 Daly [2001] 2 A.C. 532 at 547. See also, Sudesh Madan v General Medical
Council [2002] A.C.D. 3 QBD; Samaroo v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2001] EWCA Civ 1139 at [29]−[35]; Manchester City Council
[2002] A.C.D. 45 QBD at [21]; Southampton Port Health Authority v Seahawk
Marine Foods Ltd [2002] EWCA Civ 54 at [34]; Farrakhan [2002] 3 W.L.R.
481, CA (Civ Div) at [65]; Chaudhury [2002] UKPC 41.
91 Kennedy [2014] UKSC 20 at [54]; Pham [2015] UKSC 19 at [60], [95],
94 Quila v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2010] EWCA Civ 1482.
The point was not addressed by the Supreme Court Quila [2011] UKSC 45. See
more generally A. Barak, Proportionality, Constitutional Rights and their
Limitations (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012).
95 Customs and Excise Commissioners v P&O Steam Navigation Co [1993]
C.O.D. 164 DC.
96 Bromley LBC v Greater London Council [1983] 1 A.C. 768.
97 Harden and Lewis, The Noble Lie, The British Constitution and the Rule of
Law (1986).
98 P. Craig, EU Administrative Law, 3rd edn (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2018), Chs 19−20.
99 R. (Begum) v Denbigh High School Governors [2007] 1 A.C. 100 HL.
100 Huang v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2007] 2 W.L.R. 581
HL.
101 Belfast City Council v Miss Behavin’ Ltd [2007] 1 W.L.R. 1420 HL.
104 See, e.g. Miss Behavin’ [2007] 1 W.L.R. 1420 at [31] per Baroness Hale; at
[45] per Lord Mance.
105 A. Kavanagh, “Reasoning about Proportionality under the Human Rights Act
107 See also D. Mead, “Outcomes Aren’t All: Defending Process-Based Review
of Public Authority Decisions under the Human Rights Act” [2012] P.L. 61.
108 M. Elliott, “The Human Rights Act 1998 and the Standard of Substantive
471−472, 477−479.
110 It is of course possible to find cases that come within broader tests of
Promotions [1999] C.O.D. 265; Tawfick [2001] A.C.D. 28; Wagstaff [2001] 1
W.L.R. 292; Howard [2002] EWHC 396 (Admin); Von Brandenburg [2002]
Q.B. 235; Paul-Coker [2006] EWHC 497 (Admin); Walker [2008] EWCA Civ
30; LH [2006] EWHC 1190 (Admin); Rogers [2006] 1 W.L.R. 2649; Bradley
[2008] EWCA Civ 36; Boyejo [2009] EWHC 3261 (Admin); Barnett [2009]
EWHC 2004 (Admin); Paine 2009 WL 4248563; Stagecoach Group [2010]
C.A.T. 14; Budd [2010] EWHC 1056 (Admin); Technoprint Plc [2010] EWHC
581 (Admin); Pampisford Estate Farms [2010] EWHC 131 (Admin); O [2011]
EWCA Civ 925; A. Le Sueur, “The Rise and Ruin of Unreasonableness?”
[2005] J.R. 32; A [1999] 4 All E.R. 860; Balchin [1997] C.O.D. 146; Campaign
against the Arms Trade [2019] 1 W.L.R. 5765 CA (Civ Div); Wells [2019]
EWHC 2710; Pantellerisco [2020] EWHC 1944.
112 R. (Khatun) v Newham LBC [2004] EWCA Civ 55 at [35]; R. (DSD) v Parole
Board [2019] Q.B. 285 DC at [141].
113 ITF [1999] 2 A.C. 418 at 452; Daly [2001] 2 A.C. 532 at 549.
114 See Niarchos [1981] J.P.L. 118; Rafferty [1987] 1 W.L.R. 457; Prime Time
Promotions [1999] C.O.D. 265; Tawfick [2001] A.C.D. 28; Wagstaff [2001] 1
W.L.R. 292; Howard [2002] EWHC 396 (Admin); Von Brandenburg [2002]
Q.B. 235; Paul-Coker [2006] EWHC 497 (Admin); Walker [2008] EWCA Civ
30; LH [2006] EWHC 1190 (Admin); Rogers [2006] 1 W.L.R. 2649; Bradley
[2008] EWCA Civ 36; Boyejo [2009] EWHC 3261 (Admin); Barnett [2009]
EWHC 2004 (Admin); Paine 2009 WL 4248563; Stagecoach Group [2010]
C.A.T. 14; Budd [2010] EWHC 1056 (Admin); Technoprint Plc [2010] EWHC
581 (Admin); Pampisford Estate Farms [2010] EWHC 131 (Admin); O [2011]
EWCA Civ 925; A. Le Sueur, “The Rise and Ruin of Unreasonableness?”
[2005] J.R. 32; A [1999] 4 All E.R. 860; Balchin [1997] C.O.D. 146; Wei Wang,
“From Wednesbury Unreasonableness to Accountability for Reasonableness”
(2017) 76 C.L.J. 72.
115 Hickman, Public Law after the Human Rights Act (2010), pp.272−273;
122 First City Trading [1997] 1 C.M.L.R. 250 at 278−279; Bank Mellat v HM
125 Bank Mellat [2013] UKSC 39 at [20]; Michalak [2017] 1 W.L.R. 4193 SC at
[20]–[22].
126 Taggart, “Proportionality, Deference, Wednesbury” [2008] N.Z.L.R. 423,
477.
127 Craig, EU Administrative Law (2018), Ch.19.
128 Lord Hoffmann, “The Influence of the European Principle of Proportionality
upon English Law”, in Ellis (ed.), The Principle of Proportionality in the Laws
of Europe (1999), pp.107−115.
129 Stoke on Trent City Council v B&Q [1991] 1 A.C. 49.
132 R. (Sinclair Collis) v Secretary of State for Health [2011] EWCA Civ 437.
133 This was a relatively common feature in the arguments deployed in the case
law.
134 See for example Niarchos [1981] J.P.L. 118; Rafferty [1987] 1 W.L.R. 457;
Balchin [1997] C.O.D. 146; Prime Time Promotions [1999] C.O.D. 265; A
[1999] 4 All E.R. 860; Tawfick [2001] A.C.D. 28; Wagstaff [2001] 1 W.L.R.
292; Howard [2002] EWHC 396 (Admin); Von Brandenburg [2002] Q.B. 235;
Paul-Coker [2006] EWHC 497 (Admin); Walker [2008] EWCA Civ 30; LH
[2006] EWHC 1190 (Admin); Rogers [2006] 1 W.L.R. 2649; Bradley [2008]
EWCA Civ 36; Boyejo [2009] EWHC 3261 (Admin); Barnett [2009] EWHC
2004 (Admin); Paine 2009 WL 4248563; Stagecoach Group [2010] C.A.T. 14;
Budd [2010] EWHC 1056 (Admin); Technoprint Plc [2010] EWHC 581
(Admin); Pampisford Estate Farms [2010] EWHC 131 (Admin); O [2011]
EWCA Civ 925; A. Le Sueur, “The Rise and Ruin of Unreasonableness?”
[2005] J.R. 32; Campaign against the Arms Trade [2019] 1 W.L.R. 5765 CA
(Civ Div); Wells [2019] EWHC 2710; Pantellerisco [2020] EWHC 1944; Wei
Wang, “From Wednesbury Unreasonableness to Accountability for
Reasonableness” (2017) 76 C.L.J. 72.
135 P. Craig, “Judicial Review and Anxious Scrutiny: Foundations, Evolution
137 Hickman, Public Law after the Human Rights Act (2010), pp.275−277.
138 Kennedy [2014] UKSC 20; Pham [2015] UKSC 19.
145 T. Tridimas, The General Principles of EU Law, 2nd edn (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2006); Craig, EU Administrative Law (2018).
146 EUWA 2018 Sch.1 para.3(1).
LEGITIMATE EXPECTATIONS
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
22–001 i. The present chapter considers the way in which legal certainty
and legitimate expectations affect the exercise of discretion.1
ii. The phrase “procedural legitimate expectation” denotes the
existence of some process right the applicant claims to possess as
the result of a promise or behaviour by the public body that
generates the expectation. The procedural role of legitimate
expectations has been discussed earlier.2
iii. The phrase “substantive legitimate expectation” captures the
situation in which the applicant seeks a particular benefit or
commodity, such as a welfare benefit or a licence, as the result of
some promise, behaviour or representation made by the public
body. The claim to such a benefit is founded on governmental
action that is said to justify the existence of the relevant
expectation.
iv. The issue concerning substantive legitimate expectation can arise
where the representation, behaviour or promise made by the
public body was prima
facie lawful, in the sense that it was within the powers accorded
to that body and the officer who made the representation. This is
dealt with in the first half of the chapter. Important doctrinal
issues that arise in this area include: the rationale for according
protection to such expectations; the conditions that must be
satisfied before a prima facie expectation can be said to arise; and
the test for judicial review that should be applied when a public
body seeks to resile from an unambiguous and specific
representation.
v. The issue concerning substantive legitimate expectation can also
arise where the representation was ultra vires the power of the
public body, or officer who made the representation. This is
considered in the second half of the chapter. The case law
establishes that there can be no actionable legitimate expectation
flowing from an ultra vires representation. The rationale for this
will be examined below, as will the limited exceptions to this
proposition. The current law can cause hardship to an individual
who may have bona fide relied on a representation and had no
reason to suspect that it was ultra vires. Possible reforms will be
considered in the course of the analysis.
The EU and many continental systems recognise that these cases raise
problems concerning legal certainty and legitimate expectations.11
Cases in the fourth category are normally treated as the strongest. This
is because an unequivocal representation carries a particular moral
force, and because holding the public body to that representation is
less likely to have serious consequences for the administration. Cases
in the first category are, by way of contrast, generally regarded as
more problematic for reasons to be discussed later. Different principles
of judicial review may, therefore, be appropriate in this type of case.
A. Arguments in Favour12
22–005 There are a number of arguments in favour of a doctrine of substantive
legitimate expectations. There is, however, no reason to suggest that
the doctrine should rest entirely on any one such argument. It is
common for legal doctrine to be predicated on a range of values.13
iii. Equality
22–009 The argument thus far can be reinforced by rule of law considerations.
The concept of legal certainty, which underlies much continental and
EU thinking,16 has close connections with the formal conception of the
rule of law, with its concern for autonomy and the ability to plan one’s
life.
There is one aspect of the rule of law that is of particular relevance.
It is concerned with the importance of considering matters across time.
This idea is to be found in Raz’s work.17 Space precludes detailed
examination of his thesis. Suffice it to say for the present that Raz
stresses the “principled faithful application of the law”,18 in which the
courts, while faithful to legislation, act in
a principled manner so as to “facilitate the integration of particular
pieces of legislation with the underlying doctrines of the legal
system”.19 This is justified in part to mix “the fruits of long-
established traditions with the urgencies of short-term exigencies”.20
It is precisely because the legislature or the executive can be
susceptible to short-term influences, whether generated by elections or
the need to respond quickly to public pressure, that the courts should
have a role as the guardians of longer-term tradition. This argument is
important where the applicant has an expectation that is normatively
justified. Raz’s thesis can best be met by ensuring that the new policy
choice should be interpreted by the courts in a manner which takes
account of that expectation.
B. Arguments Against
22–010 The central argument against a doctrine of substantive legitimate
expectations is that the government must be free to make policy
changes,21 and therefore existing policy should not be ossified or
unduly fettered. The following points are relevant in this context.
First, the relevant aspect of the no fettering of discretion principle
is derived from case law concerning the extent to which public bodies
can be bound by contracts, which was considered earlier.22 The limits
of the argument must be borne firmly in mind. In a literal sense any
contractual arrangement, more especially a long-term contract,
circumscribes the ability of the public body to make choices
concerning the relevant subject-matter. If the no fettering argument
were taken absolutely then such contracts would be illegal. Public
bodies need, however, to make contracts in many areas, and thus a
public body is only precluded from making contracts where they are
incompatible with the statutory power or duty. The doctrine of
legitimate expectations should be subject to the same limit, but this
does not preclude recognition of substantive legitimate expectations. It
merely places a limit thereon.
Secondly, we should moreover be mindful of the reality of public
contracting and the limited application of the no fettering principle.
This principle did not preclude the creation of PFI contracts worth
billions of pounds.23 This was so notwithstanding the fact that such
contracts placed constraints on discretion in the relevant area, and
were often scheduled for terms of 10, 15 or 25 years. The constraints
placed by PFI contracts far exceeded any such constraining effect
flowing from the doctrine of legitimate expectations. This is more
especially so
given that many such cases are concerned with the timing of the new
policy, rather than precluding the policy choice.24
22–011 Thirdly, a doctrine of substantive legitimate expectations still requires
an applicant to prove the requisite expectation on the facts of the case.
The mere fact that there has been some change of policy does not
mean that those who operated under the old policy would be able to
prove the existence of such an expectation. EU law and German law,
both of which protect substantive legitimate expectations, contain
helpful jurisprudence on this issue.
Fourthly, the proof of the expectation is but the first step in the
analysis. There is a second legal step, in which the courts inquire
whether the public body had sufficient reasons to depart from the
expectation. The test that should apply at this level will be examined
below.
Finally, the preceding points help to explain why there is no
evidence that recognition of substantive legitimate expectations in
other legal systems has had any undue impact on the administration’s
freedom to develop policy.
A. Prior to Coughlan
22–013 There was, prior to Coughlan, uncertainty as to whether substantive
legitimate expectations were recognised within UK law, especially in
the first type of case dealing with change of policy. In Hamble
Fisheries26 Sedley J argued strongly in favour of substantive
legitimate expectations. Hamble Fisheries had purchased two small
fishing vessels with the purpose of transferring fishing licences from
those vessels to a larger vessel. At the time of purchase, the policy of
the Ministry was to allow such transfers. When that policy was
subsequently changed, Hamble Fisheries claimed a breach of
legitimate expectations. It accepted that policy could be altered for the
future, but argued that the introduction of severe measures such as a
moratorium with immediate effect constituted a breach of its
legitimate expectations. Sedley J held, for the reasons given above,
that a policy
or practice could create legitimate expectations protected by
administrative law. Moreover, in Unilever,27 the Court of Appeal held
that the Inland Revenue could not without prior warning discontinue a
practice, applied for 25 years, of accepting annual tax refund claims
after the expiry of a statutory time limit. Its sudden change of conduct
was an unfair breach of the applicant’s legitimate expectations and
therefore an abuse of power.
There was another line of authority, which cast doubt on
substantive legitimate expectations. In Hargreaves,28 the Home
Secretary had changed policy on prisoners’ home leave with
immediate effect in the light of concerns over crimes committed by
prisoners on leave. This change had a traumatising effect on some
prisoners. However, the Court of Appeal held that the Home Office
had acted lawfully. Relying primarily on Findlay,29 it rejected the
approach taken in Hamble Fisheries as “heresy” and “wrong in
principle”.30 There were aspects of the judgment that could be read as
being opposed to any doctrine of substantive legitimate expectations.
An alternative reading of the judgment was that no such expectation
existed on the facts, and if it did exist the court would review the
change of policy which disappointed that expectation only on the
Wednesbury test.
22–014 There was, however, authority for substantive legitimate expectations
in the second type of case, where a general policy or practice had been
departed from in a particular case. In Khan,31 the applicant alleged that
the Home Office had departed from a policy, communicated in
writing, concerning approval of adoption of family members from
abroad. Parker LJ held, drawing on Lord Denning’s dicta in HTV32 and
Laker Airways,33 that a public authority could only go back on a
legitimate expectation after granting a hearing and then only if the
overriding public interest demanded it.34 In Ruddock,35 the applicant
sought judicial review of a decision to intercept her telephone calls.
Taylor J accepted her argument that fairness might require more than
procedural protection, and that she could legitimately expect that the
police would comply with published criteria for when telephone
interception would take place, unless a departure was required for
reasons of national security. In Gangadeen,36 the Court of Appeal
reaffirmed that “the Home Secretary is in ordinary circumstances
obliged to act in accordance with his declared policy”37 concerning
deportation of foreigners with children lawfully residing in Britain.
There was also authority for a concept of substantive legitimate
expectations in the fourth type of case, where a public body made an
individual representation, which was relied on and the body
subsequently sought to go back on the representation. In Preston,38 the
applicant was assured by the Revenue in 1978 that it would not raise
further inquiries on certain tax affairs if he agreed to forgo interest
relief he had claimed and to pay certain capital gains tax. The House of
Lords held that the Revenue could not bind itself not to perform its
statutory duties. It could therefore in principle go back on its assurance
when it received new information about the applicant’s dealings. A
court could, however, hold the Revenue to its assurance where the
unfairness to the applicant caused by exercising the statutory duty
would amount to an abuse of power. The principles laid down in
Preston were developed further in MFK.39 These judgments were
couched in terms of abuse of power and substantive fairness, rather
than explicitly in terms of legitimate expectations. However, the
reason why the administration’s actions could be deemed abusive was
that the representations had created normatively justified expectations
and reliance in the affected individuals.
B. Coughlan
22–015 The law must now be seen in the light of Coughlan.40 Coughlan had
been very seriously injured in a traffic accident in 1971, and was cared
for in Newcourt Hospital. The hospital was considered unsuited for
modern care, and therefore Coughlan and other patients were moved to
Mardon House in 1993. The patients were persuaded to move by
representations made on behalf of the Health Authority that Mardon
House would be more appropriate for their needs. The patients relied
on an express assurance that they could live there for as long as they
chose. In October 1998 the Health Authority decided to close Mardon
House, and to move patients to other facilities. A consultation paper
issued in August 1998 preceded this decision, and recognised the force
of the promise made to the residents in 1993. The consultation paper
was placed before the Health Authority when it made its decision in
October 1998. The Health Authority recognised that it had a number of
options. It could continue to support Mardon House; it could, in breach
of the original promise, assist residents to move elsewhere; or it could
move other NHS services into Mardon House. In October 1998 the
Health Authority decided to close the facility and move the residents
elsewhere. The applicant challenged this as being in breach of the
promise that she would have a home for life. The Court of Appeal
distinguished between three situations.
In the first, the court might decide that the public authority was
only required to bear in mind its previous policy or other
representation, giving it the weight it
thought fit before deciding to change course. In such cases the court
was confined to reviewing the decision on Wednesbury grounds.
Findlay41 and Hargreaves42 were treated as examples of this type of
case.43
The second situation was where the court decided that there was a
legitimate expectation of being consulted before a decision was taken.
In such cases the court would require there to be an opportunity for
consultation, unless there was an overriding reason to resile from the
undertaking. The court would judge for itself the adequacy of the
reason for the change of policy.44 This situation was regarded as one
where the court exercised “full review”, deciding for itself whether
what happened was fair.45 The decision in Ng Yuen Shiu46 was cited as
an example of this type of case.
The third situation was where the court considered that a lawful
promise had induced a substantive legitimate expectation. The court
relied on previous authority for review in this type of case.47 The court
would decide whether the frustration of the expectation was so unfair
that to take a new and different course of action would amount to an
abuse of power. When the legitimacy of the expectation had been
established, the court would weigh “the requirements of fairness
against any overriding interest relied upon for the change of policy”.48
Most cases within this category were likely to be those where the
expectation was confined to one person, or a few people. The present
case was held to come within the third category.
22–016 The recognition of substantive legitimate expectations as part of UK
law is to be welcomed. The House of Lords acknowledged the concept
in subsequent cases.49 The divide between the three types of case in
Coughlan should, nonetheless, be treated with caution. The first
category was created in order to deal with cases, primarily
Hargreaves, which might have hindered recognition of substantive
legitimate expectations within UK law. This category is now confined
to cases where the original promise was merely to consider taking
action.50 The second
category is concerned primarily with procedural legitimate
expectations. The dividing line between the first and third categories
cannot however be regarded as “hermetically sealed”.51
A. Coughlan
i. Judgment
22–018 The distinction between the types of case was regarded as important in
Coughlan for the standard of review. In the first type of case the
normal Wednesbury test would apply. In the second, the court would
engage in “full review”, deciding for itself whether the departure from
a procedural legitimate expectation was fair. It is the standard of
review in the third type of case that is of particular interest. This will
be a live issue where, as in Coughlan, the public body seeks to resile
from the legitimate expectation on the ground that the public interest
demands that this should be so.
The court in Coughlan accepted that public bodies must be able to
change policy, and that undertakings were therefore open to
modification or abandonment.71 It followed that the court’s task was:
“… not to impede executive activity but to reconcile its continuing need to initiate or respond
to change with the legitimate interests or expectations of citizens or strangers who have
relied, and have been justified in relying, on a current policy or an extant promise”.72
This was especially so given that there were two lawful exercises of
power in this type of case: the promise and the policy change.73 This
consideration led the court to distinguish between two standards of
judicial review of discretion.
There was, on the one hand, bare or intrinsic irrationality, through
which a court could quash a decision that defied comprehension in the
sense articulated by Lord Greene74 and Lord Diplock.75 Such cases
were rare. Rationality also embraced decisions made on the basis of
flawed logic. The court in Coughlan rejected this criterion. Where
there were, as here, two lawful exercises of power:
“… a bare rationality test would constitute the public authority judge in its own cause, for a
decision to prioritise a policy change over legitimate expectations will almost always be
rational from where the authority stands, even if objectively it is arbitrary or unfair”.76
ii. Assessment
22–019 The reasons given in Coughlan for rejecting the Wednesbury test87 as
articulated by Lord Greene MR are convincing. It would require the
individual to show that the agency’s decision to act inconsistently with
the legitimate expectation was so unreasonable that no reasonable
agency would have done it. It would, as recognised in Coughlan, be
almost impossible for the individual to succeed on this criterion.88
The court in Coughlan preferred to use abuse of power as the
criterion for testing whether a public body could resile from a prima
facie legitimate expectation. This is, however, problematic for the
following reason. Abuse of power may well be regarded as the
conceptual rationale for judicial intervention to protect substantive
legitimate expectations.89 It encapsulates the conclusion that the
applicant had some normatively justified expectation, since there
would otherwise have been no foundation for finding such an abuse.
The term abuse of power can also capture the conclusion that the court
has found the public body’s argument for going back on the
expectation to be unconvincing. Abuse of power does not, however,
furnish a standard of review for deciding whether a public body can
resile from a proven substantive expectation. It can be used to express
the conclusion reached under any such standard, but does not itself
constitute a standard of review.90
B. Nadarajah
i. Judgment
ii. Assessment
22–021 The proportionate response test articulated by Laws LJ for deciding
whether a public body can go back on or depart from a legitimate
expectation has beneficially clarified this area of the law,96 although
the application of the test to the facts was more questionable. Abuse of
power does not encapsulate a standard of review, although it might
well be a fitting conclusory label to append to the application of any
other test. The traditional Wednesbury test would be too narrow. The
applicant would almost never win on such a test and it was ruled out
by Coughlan. The Wednesbury test could be applied more intensively
in cases of this kind,97 or the courts could adopt the interpretation of
the reasonableness test by Lord Cooke.98 We have, however, seen that
the factors taken into account when reasonableness is interpreted in
this manner would be very like those considered in proportionality.99
Proportionality review is therefore the best option, and it will only
be relevant if the applicant establishes a substantive legitimate
expectation. If the applicant surmounts this hurdle then it is fitting in
normative terms that a proportionality test should be used to determine
the legality of action that purports to resile from the substantive
legitimate expectation. The proportionality test provides a structured
analysis which facilitates review, and forces the agency to give a
reasoned justification for its course of action. The reasoning used in
Coughlan to decide whether the public body could resile from the
applicant’s expectation was very close to a proportionality inquiry.
The way in which the standard of review is applied will depend on the
nature of the case. The courts will be more reluctant to interfere with
general changes of policy, than with cases where a representation is
made to a discrete group.100 This variability can, however, be
accommodated within a proportionality inquiry. It is moreover
incumbent on the public body to adduce evidence as to why it believes
that the public interest requires it to resile from the legitimate
expectation,101 and the reviewing court will be influenced by the
importance of the public interest that is said to justify departure from
the legitimate expectation.102
The precise meaning of the condition that a public authority could
depart from a prima facie expectation where it had the legal duty to do
so is not entirely clear. It could be intended to capture the situation
where the initial representation was intra vires, but where there was
then some supervening legal duty embodied in a subsequent statute
that required the public authority to depart from the representation. It
could, in addition, be intended to cover the case where the initial
representation was ultra vires.
C. Bibi
i. Judgment
22–022 The court might decide to remit the case to the original decision-maker
where a legitimate expectation has been found to exist. The Bibi case
provides a good example.103 The applicants had been provided with
accommodation for the homeless. The local authority promised that it
would provide them with security of tenure. It had made this promise
because it thought, wrongly, that it was under a duty to provide
permanent accommodation. The local authority sought to renege on
the promise, having become aware that it did not have a duty to give
permanent accommodation. Schiemann LJ held that the promise had
created a substantive legitimate expectation.104 He held further that
when an authority, without even considering that it is in breach of a
promise giving rise to a legitimate expectation, acts at variance with
the promise, then the authority is abusing its power.105
The court did not, however, order the local authority to provide the
secure accommodation. It remitted the case to the local authority and
imposed a duty on it to consider the applicants’ housing on the basis
that they had a legitimate expectation that they would be given secure
accommodation. The reason for this strategy was that while the
applicants had a legitimate expectation, so too did other people on the
council’s accommodation list, and the overall stock of housing was
limited. The local authority might be able to help the applicants in
some other way, if it felt unable to give them secure housing.106 The
court nonetheless made it clear that the assumption was that effect
should be given to the legitimate expectation. If the local authority
decided not to do so, it had to provide reasons, which the applicants
could test in court.107
ii. Assessment
22–023 The option of remitting the case back to the public body is useful. This
is especially so, in cases such as Bibi, where there are others who can
be directly
affected by enforcement of the legitimate expectation. The assumption
is that the public body will give effect to the expectation, and if this
transpires it side steps difficult issues about the standard of review. If
this assumption is not borne out, the applicant can challenge the
resultant decision.
A. Change of Policy
22–025 The cases in this category are the most problematic. Public bodies
must be able to change their policy.108 The fact that a policy will
normally continue until the time for its cessation, or until there is a
shift in thinking about the area, will not therefore suffice to ground a
substantive legitimate expectation.109 This does not mean that the
doctrine could never apply to this type of case. This would create
difficult boundary problems between this category and the others,
since the line between a general policy and an individual
representation may be difficult to draw. It does mean as Laws LJ
stated110 that a claimant will have to show a “specific undertaking,
directed at a particular individual or group, by which the relevant
policy’s continuance is assured”.
The fact situations in cases such as Hamble Fisheries,111
Hargreaves,112 and Godfrey113 provide examples of situations in
which a change of policy might give rise to a substantive legitimate
expectation claim. This is so notwithstanding the fact that the claims
failed in these cases. The individual may nonetheless properly argue
that there was a legitimate expectation based on the old policy, which
was ignored in the transition to the new policy. This argument would
be stronger where there were no transitional provisions between the
two policies. Whether the individual can show the legitimate
expectation will depend on the facts and the public body can argue that
there was an overriding public interest to defeat any such expectation.
Whether such an expectation exists can be controversial, as
exemplified by Bancoult.114 The inhabitants of the Chagos Islands
were compulsorily removed
from their land by an Immigration Ordinance in 1971, which was
quashed because exclusion of an entire population from its land was
ultra vires the relevant order. The government stated that it accepted
the court’s ruling and would allow the Chagossians to return home.
However, the government later decided that resettlement was not
feasible and that the territory was still wanted for defence purposes. It
therefore enacted Orders in Council, which prevented the Chagossians
from returning home.
The Court of Appeal held that the secretary of state had
impermissibly frustrated the claimants’ legitimate expectation that
they would be allowed to return home.115 The public promise made by
the secretary of state to right the wrong exposed by the earlier
judgment had been implemented by the enactment in 2000 of a right of
return for Chagossians, and the Orders in Council of 2004 had gone
back on that undertaking. The majority of the House of Lords held,
however, that the ministerial statement in 2000 was not sufficiently
unambiguous to create a legitimate expectation that the islanders
would be allowed to return home. The dissenting view of Lords
Bingham and Mance, who held that there was an unequivocal
assurance given in 2000, better coheres with the facts and is to be
preferred.
C. Individualised Representations
22–028 A number of the cases are concerned with representations made to
specific individuals. Thus, in Preston,130 P made an agreement with
the Revenue in 1978 to forgo interest relief that he had claimed and he
also paid capital gains tax. In return, the inspector said that he would
not raise any further inquiries on certain tax affairs. The Revenue,
however, decided to apply provisions of the tax legislation in 1982,
following receipt of new information concerning the same transaction.
P sought judicial review of this decision. Lord Templeman stated that
P would have no remedy for breach of the representation as such,
because the Revenue could not bind itself in 1978 not to perform its
statutory duty in 1982.131 Judicial review was, however, available132: a
court could direct the Revenue to abstain from performing its statutory
duties, or exercising its powers, where the unfairness to the applicant
of doing so rendered such insistence an abuse of
power.133 Conduct by the Revenue that was equivalent to a breach of
representation could constitute such abuse of power.134 The Revenue’s
action could only have been thus regarded if its prior representation
gave rise to some normative expectation that was worthy of protection.
Further authority is provided by the MFK case.135 The applicants
approached the Inland Revenue as to whether investments would be
taxed as capital or income. The initial response convinced the
applicants that the investments would be taxed as capital, but the
Revenue later taxed the assets as income. Bingham LJ held that the
applicants must fail if the representation was in breach of the
Revenue’s statutory duty. This was not so, since the Revenue was
exercising its managerial discretion. The Revenue could not, therefore,
withdraw from its representation if this would cause substantial
unfairness to the applicant, and if the conditions for relying on the
representation were present: the applicant should give full details of
the transaction on which the Revenue’s ruling was sought; the
applicant should make it apparent that it was seeking a considered
ruling on which it intended to rely; and the ruling should be clear and
unambiguous.136 It is clear from Matrix Securities137 that the courts
will insist strictly on full disclosure of the relevant material, more
particularly where the purported assurance has been given in relation
to, for example, a tax avoidance scheme which should never have been
authorised in this manner.
If the public body argues that there is some public interest
justifying departure from its initial representation it must give the
person who has a substantive legitimate expectation the opportunity to
present arguments as to why the expectation should not be defeated by
the public body’s subsequent change of view,138 and the Nadarajah
test of proportionality139 will be applicable to this type of case. The
argument for more intensive review is especially forceful here, since
where a public body seeks to resile from an individual representation it
is less likely for there to be wider repercussions of the kind that can
arise where there is a shift from one policy to another.
The assumption in the preceding cases was that the representation
was intra vires.140 However, if a court believes that no balancing
should be undertaken if the representation is ultra vires, but it wishes
to consider the effects of the representation on the individual, this may
cause the court to categorise the representation as intra rather than
ultra vires.141 This is because if a public authority has made an ultra
vires representation the courts are reluctant to accord the
representation any binding force.
i. Final determinations
22–029 The discussion in the previous section was concerned with cases where
there has been a representation, which the individual seeks to rely on.
This should be distinguished from the case where there has been a
final determination, which cannot be altered because it is a dispositive
decision in that case.
This is exemplified by the Denton Road case.142 The plaintiff’s
house was damaged during the war and later demolished by the local
authority. The preliminary determination by the War Damage
Commission was that the property was a total loss. This was later
altered, the Commission saying that the loss was non-total. A third
turn of the wheel caused them to revert to the categorisation of total
loss. Greater compensation would be paid where the loss was non-
total. It was held that the second determination was final and that
where Parliament had imposed a duty of deciding a question that
affected the rights of subjects, such a decision, when made and
communicated in terms which were not preliminary, was final and
conclusive. It could not, in the absence of express statutory power or
the consent of the person affected, be withdrawn.143 The intra vires
decision was binding as a valid decision.144
The scope of the holding in this case is not, however, clear. In
Rootkin145 the plaintiff’s daughter was given a place at a school, which
the local authority believed to be over three miles from her home.
They thereby were obliged to provide transport or to reimburse
travelling expenses, and decided upon the latter. They later measured
the distance once again and, having decided that it was less than three
miles, withdrew the funding. The plaintiff relied on the Denton Road
case. The argument was rejected, the court saying that it had no
application where the citizen was receiving only a discretionary
benefit as opposed to a statutory right, since this would fetter the
discretion of the public body.146
22–030 The principle in Denton Road is surely correct. When a public body
makes a lawful final decision this should be binding on it, even in the
absence of detrimental reliance. A citizen should be entitled to assume
that it will not be overturned by a second decision, even if the latter is
equally lawful. The principle of legal certainty has a particularly
strong application in these circumstances. Where the initial decision is
changed because of a mistake or misinterpretation of the facts then, if
there has been detrimental reliance, compensation should be
granted. Provided that the applicant has not misled the public body
then the onus of ensuring that the facts are correctly applied should be
on the public body.
It should make no difference whether the initial decision was the
determination of a statutory right or the exercise of discretion. The line
between the two may well be a fine one. Moreover, once discretion is
exercised the argument that the person should be able to rely upon it is
equally strong as in the case of a decision about rights. This is
supported by MFK.147 The applicant failed on the facts, but the case
clearly demonstrates that a discretionary determination will not
necessarily be defeated by the argument that to sanction such a result
would be a fetter on the general discretion of that body.148 Any lawful
decision will perforce limit the way in which discretion can be used by
ruling out other options.
ii. Estoppel by record
We have seen that a decision may be ultra vires in one of two senses:
the decision may be outside the powers of the public body, or within
its power but incapable of being made by that public officer. The
decision in Lever was clearly not ultra vires in the former sense, but it
almost certainly was in the latter sense, because the statute gave no
power to delegate to the officer.169 If delegation is forbidden by a
statute, expressly or impliedly, then it will be ultra vires. It cannot be
converted into an intra vires act by saying that what the officer does
with ostensible authority will bind the principal. There cannot be
ostensible or apparent authority to bind the principal where the act
committed is ultra vires in either sense identified above.170 Even if the
delegation had been permissible in the Lever case, Lord Denning
MR’s words were broad enough to allow estoppel to validate ultra
vires decisions, which is inconsistent with higher authority.171
22–037 The decision in Western Fish172 reaffirmed orthodoxy. The plaintiff
company purchased an industrial site that had previously been used for
production of fertiliser from fish and fishmeal. The company intended
to make animal fertiliser from fishmeal and also to pack fish for
human consumption. It alleged that it had
an established user right, which would entitle it to carry on business
without the need for planning permission. The planning officer wrote a
letter which, the plaintiff claimed, represented that the officer had
accepted the established user right. Work on renovating the factories
was begun even though planning permission had not yet been
obtained. This permission was subsequently refused by the full council
and enforcement notices were served on the plaintiff. The latter
claimed that the statements of the planning officer estopped the
council from refusing planning permission. This was rejected by the
Court of Appeal.
Megaw LJ stated that the planning officer, even acting within his
apparent authority, could not do what the Town and Country Planning
Act 1971 required the council itself to do. The Act required that the
decision concerning planning permission be made by the council, not
the officer. No representation by the planning officer could inhibit the
discharge of these statutory duties. While specific functions could be
delegated to the officer, the determination of planning permission had
not been thus delegated.173
i. Procedural irregularity
22–041 There was also authority that where a power had been delegated to an
officer to determine specific questions, any decision made could not be
revoked, this being regarded as akin to res judicata.183 This suggests
that the conceptual rationale for the exception was more akin to the
finality of completed decisions,184 than estoppel by representation.
Sullivan J doubted whether this exception survived Reprotech.185
The exception, even if it does survive, is limited. The statute must
allow the power to be delegated to this type of officer, since otherwise
the force of the
proposition that a representation cannot validate an ultra vires act
would be negated. If the delegation is lawful there is a further issue as
to how far an individual can assume that it has occurred. The answer
from Western Fish was that it depends on the circumstances.186 The
individual could not assume that any resolution necessary to delegate
authority had been passed, nor was the seniority of the officer
conclusive. If, however, there was some further evidence that the
officer regularly dealt with cases of a type which the individual might
expect that official to be able to determine, this could be sufficient to
entitle the individual to presume that delegation had occurred even if it
had not.
22–043 The preceding conclusions have a pristine symmetry. The logic of the
jurisdictional principle is followed through to its inexorable end. A
moment’s reflection will, however, reveal the hardship to the
individual. The person who reasonably relies on a representation made
by a public body is left without a remedy. It may be possible in theory
for the individual to ascertain the limits of the public body’s power,
and that of its officers, but theory does not always accord with
practical reality. This hardship may well incline courts to construe the
empowering legislation so as to, for example, confer validity on a
mistaken certificate unless and until it has been revoked,189 or
otherwise interpret the legislation so as to render the public body’s
action intra rather than ultra vires.190 This will, however, not always be
plausible and the cogency of the traditional theory must now be
examined.191
i. Government–proprietary distinction
22–048 It is possible to modify the ultra vires principle beyond the options
considered above. The ultra vires principle is the embodiment of the
principle of legality. This principle can, however, clash with the
principle of legal certainty, and does so when an individual has
detrimentally relied on an ultra vires representation. Where the harm to
the public would be minimal compared to that to the individual, there
is good reason to consider allowing the representation to bind. This
would be to recognise that the principle of legality might, on occasion,
be outweighed by that of legal certainty. There will nonetheless be
many situations where the public interest must take precedence over
that of the individual. The existence of a legitimate expectation would
be a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for the representation to
bind the public body.
It might be objected that a representee could never have a
“legitimate” expectation if the representation was ultra vires. This is,
however, merely a restatement of the general rule that ultra vires
representations cannot bind, which is the very question in issue. It adds
nothing to that statement. It is in any event inconsistent with
Convention jurisprudence, which is premised on the assumption that
an expectation can be legitimate, even if it is based on an ultra vires
representation. It is also misleading in that it conveys the impression
that the individual harboured an illegitimate or unwarranted
expectation that the representation would be fulfilled. The reality is
that the representee may have had no reason to expect that the
representation was outside the complex powers of the public body.
The existence of a legitimate expectation is not, however, a
sufficient condition for binding the public body, precisely because the
representation is ultra vires. The existence of a legitimate expectation
serves, nonetheless, as a signal that issues of legal certainty are
involved in a case. The existence of such an expectation should,
therefore, operate as a trigger to alert a court that a balance between
the principles of legality and legal certainty may be required.
22–051 The central objection to the judicial balancing test is that it would
offend against constitutional principle. If Parliament has laid down
limits to the powers of a body it might be felt that the courts should not
balance the public versus individual interest in the manner suggested
above.219 There is force in this objection. The strength of the argument
is, however, diminished because there are
at least five areas in which the jurisdictional principle is compromised,
and balancing is accepted as legitimate or inevitable: in the law
relating to invalidity, de facto officers, waiver, delay and remedial
discretion. Those who object to judicial balancing in relation to
representations must therefore explain why it is acceptable in other
areas, or distinguish them. This normative exercise is not undertaken
by critics.220 If the constitutional objection is determinative then it
assumes the following principle: it is forbidden for courts to use any
public law doctrine whereby the ultra vires nature of a public body’s
act is mitigated or qualified. This proposition is, however, untenable as
a matter of positive law.
In the law relating to invalidity there are situations where the
courts have qualified the concept of retrospective nullity, because the
effect on the administration or an individual are regarded as
unacceptable.221 This also underlies the doctrine of de facto officers.
We allow waiver to operate with the effect that there will be no
remedy for an ultra vires decision.222 This is so also in relation to
remedies and delay. Section 31(6) of the Senior Courts Act 1981
allows the court to refuse a remedy where there has been undue delay
in making the application, if it considers that the granting of relief
would cause substantial hardship to, or substantially prejudice the
rights of, any person or would be detrimental to good administration.
Moreover, s.31(2A) of the Senior Courts Act 1981 mandates courts to
refuse relief if it is highly likely that the outcome would have been the
same notwithstanding the illegality.
The effect of the law in these areas is to countenance balancing,
usually against the individual, where an ultra vires act has occurred,
even though we deny any such balancing in favour of the innocent
individual who has been misled by an ultra vires representation made
by a public body. A number of objections might be made to this
analysis.
22–052 First, it might be argued that balancing is justified in the context of, for
example, delay because there is legislative sanction. This will not
withstand examination. The argument misconstrues the position at
common law prior to the Senior Courts Act 1981.223 The courts, prior
to this Act, took a wide variety of factors into account in determining
whether to withhold a remedy or not, including: administrative
convenience, effectiveness, hardship to third parties, and broad notions
of justice.224 The courts were, in such instances, balancing the ultra
vires nature of the conduct against the consequences of granting a
remedy. Viewed in this way s.31(6) was little more than a declaration
of the previous common law position.
A second objection might be that in the areas considered above the
ultra vires nature of the act is not touched. It is simply the remedy that
is refused or modified. This will not do. We should not allow form to
blind us to substance: in whichever way the balancing is expressed it is
still balancing. The full effects of the ultra vires principle are still
being compromised. There is, moreover, no
reason why balancing in the context of representations could not be
expressed in the same way. If such balancing were to be allowed we
would not be saying that the public body could now lawfully do
something outside its powers. We would accept that the public body
had made an ultra vires representation, but conclude that because of
the minimal effect on the public interest, as compared to the harm to
the representee, that the representation should bind in this instance.
A third possible objection is that there might be third party
interests affected, who would have no opportunity to put their views
when determining whether the representation should bind. This will be
taken into account in the balancing process. The problem of third party
interests is, however, every bit as real when the balancing takes place
in relation to invalidity, waiver, delay or remedial relief, yet it has not
been regarded as a reason for rejecting balancing in these areas.
A final objection is that the balancing within these other areas is
justified because it is in favour of the public body, and is warranted
because the public body represents a wider public interest. A process
of weighing is not, it might be argued, legitimate “the other way
round”, where the only interest affected by the misleading
representation is that of the individual. This objection is unconvincing.
Granted that the public body represents a wider public interest, this
does not explain why an ultra vires representation should never be
allowed to bind if the detriment to the individual outweighs the harm
to the public interest. The argument is, in any event, mistaken in its
own terms. When the courts balance within invalidity, waiver, and
delay they do not only take account of administrative convenience.
They have considered a much broader range of factors, such as
effectiveness, third party interests, the detriment to the applicant, and
more amorphous considerations of justice.
C. Compensation
22–053 It might be argued that it would be much simpler to give compensation
to the aggrieved representee than to allow an ultra vires representation
to bind. A monetary remedy would be helpful in this context and
should be developed.225 There are, however, two points that should be
made in relation to this suggestion.
The first is that in some circumstances it would be tantamount to
doing the same thing. Giving compensation in cases like Robertson226
would have the same effect as holding the agency to the
representation.
The second point is more important. Let us assume that X has been
given an assurance that alterations to property do not require further
planning permission. X builds the property with the alterations. The
assurance given was ultra vires the representor. The cost of
compensating X will be £20,000.227 Let us assume that Y received an
assurance that he could operate a new transport service, and invested
£25 million. The assurance was ultra vires the body that made it.228
Any system of compensation will derive funds from society,
directly or indirectly. It is a trite, though important, proposition that
funds for compensation are scarce. If by balancing the public and
private interest it can be shown that the detriment to the former is
outweighed by the latter, it is not clear why we should give
compensation rather than allow the representation to bind. The ultra
vires principle operates to keep bodies within the ambit of their
powers, and does so to protect society or a certain section of it.
If it can be shown that society is not going to suffer in comparison
to the individual, then to insist that, for example, Y’s investment
should lay idle, and that Y should be compensated, would be a waste
of these resources. It is doubtful whether this is the most pressing
object on which to spend scarce societal resources. Compensation for
wrongful administrative action may well be needed.229 It should not,
however, be an alternative to allowing the representation to bind when
there has been an ultra vires assurance. It should be a complement.
1 C. Forsyth, “The Provenance and Protection of Legitimate Expectations”
[1988] C.L.J. 238; P. Elias, “Legitimate Expectation and Judicial Review”, in J.
Jowell and D. Oliver (eds), New Directions in Judicial Review (London: Sweet
& Maxwell, 1988), pp.37−50; P. Craig, “Legitimate Expectations: A Conceptual
Analysis” (1992) 108 L.Q.R. 79; R. Singh, “Making Legitimate Use of
Legitimate Expectations” (1994) 144 N.L.J. 1215; P. Craig, “Substantive
Legitimate Expectations in Domestic and Community Law” [1996] C.L.J. 289;
P. Craig, “Substantive Legitimate Expectations and the Principles of Judicial
Review”, in M. Andenas (ed.), English Public Law and the Common Law of
Europe (London: Key Haven, 1998), Ch.3; Y. Dotan, “Why Administrators
should be Bound by their Policies” (1997) 17 O.J.L.S. 23; P. Craig and S.
Schonberg, “Substantive Legitimate Expectations after Coughlan” [2000] P.L.
684; S. Schonberg, Legitimate Expectations in Administrative Law (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2000); R. Clayton, “Legitimate Expectations, Policy,
and the Principle of Consistency” [2003] C.L.J. 93; P. Sales and K. Steyn,
“Legitimate Expectations in English Public Law: An Analysis” [2004] P.L. 564;
I. Steele, “Substantive Legitimate Expectations: Striking the Right Balance?”
(2005) 121 L.Q.R. 300; R. Moules, Actions Against Public Officials: Legitimate
Expectations, Misstatements and Misconduct (London: Sweet and Maxwell,
2009); C. Knight, “Expectations in Transition: Recent Developments in
Legitimate Expectations” [2009] P.L. 15; J. Watson, “Clarity and Ambiguity: A
New Approach to the Test of Legitimacy in the Law of Legitimate Expectations”
(2010) 30 L.S. 633; C. Forsyth, “Legitimate Expectations Revisited” [2011] J.R.
429; P. Reynolds, “Legitimate Expectations and the Protection of Trust in Public
Officials” [2011] P.L. 330; F. Ahmed and A. Perry, “The Coherence of the
Doctrine of Legitimate Expectations” (2014) 73 C.L.J. 61; M. Groves and G.
Weeks (eds), Legitimate Expectations in the Common Law World (Oxford: Hart
Publishing, 2016); J. Tomlinson, “The narrow approach to substantive legitimate
expectations and the trend of modern authority” (2017) 17 O.U.C.L.J. 75; J.
Tomlinson, “Do We Need a Theory of Legitimate Expectations?”, forthcoming.
2 See Ch.12.
2018), Ch.18.
4 J. Schwarze, European Administrative Law (London: Sweet & Maxwell,
1992), Ch.6.
5 Schwarze, European Administrative Law (1992), p.1120.
17 J. Raz, Ethics in the Public Domain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994),
Ch.17.
18 Raz, Ethics in the Public Domain (1994), p.373.
21 Hughes v Department of Health and Social Security [1985] 1 A.C. 776 at 778;
R. (Niazi) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2008] EWCA Civ 755
at [41]; Forsyth, “Revisited” [2011] J.R. 429.
22 See Ch.18. The fettering of discretion argument is also deployed to prevent a
public body from adopting a policy that precludes it from disposing of a case
without consideration of the merits of the individual applicant. This is not
relevant here.
23 See Ch.5.
[1990] 1 W.L.R. 1545 QBD. See also Matrix Securities Ltd v Inland Revenue
Commissioners [1994] 1 W.L.R. 334 HL.
40 Coughlan [2001] Q.B. 213; R. v Merton, Sutton and Wandsworth Health
46 Attorney General For Hong Kong v Ng Yuen Shiu [1983] 2 A.C. 629; British
Dental Association v General Dental Council [2014] EWHC 4311 (Admin); R.
(LH) v Shropshire Council [2014] EWCA Civ 404; R. (Save Britain’s Heritage)
v Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government [2019] 1 W.L.R.
929 CA (Civ Div).
47 Coughlan [2001] Q.B. 213 at [61], [67]−[69]; relying on Preston [1985] A.C.
835; Laker Airways [1977] Q.B. 643; HTV [1976] I.C.R. 170; MFK [1990] 1
W.L.R. 1545; Unilever [1996] S.T.C. 681; Khan [1984] 1 W.L.R. 1337;
Ruddock [1987] 1 W.L.R. 1482; and Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister
for the Civil Service [1985] A.C. 374, HL at 410−411 were also seen as
recognising substantive legitimate expectations, Coughlan [2001] Q.B. 213 at
[77].
48 Coughlan [2001] Q.B. 213 at [57].
58 Hamble [1995] 2 All E.R. 714; United States Tobacco [1992] Q.B. 353.
59 Solar Century Holdings Ltd v Secretary of State for Energy and Climate
Change [2016] EWCA Civ 117; R. (Drax Power Ltd) v HM Treasury [2017]
Q.B. 1221 CA (Civ Div).
60 Kingsley [1996] C.O.D. 241.
65 The Association of British Civilian Internees [2003] EWCA Civ 473 at [36].
67 Bibi [2002] 1 W.L.R. 237 at [29]−[30]; R. (Rashid) v Secretary of State for the
Home Department [2005] EWCA Civ 744; R. (K. and A.C. Jackson & Son) v
Department for the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs [2011] EWHC 956
(Admin).
68 MFK [1990] 1 W.L.R. 1545 at 1569; Matrix Securities [1994] 1 W.L.R. 334.
69 Kingsley [1996] COD 241, 243; Matrix Securities [1994] 1 W.L.R. 334.
79 Unilever [1996] S.T.C. 681; HTV [1976] I.C.R. 170; Laker [1977] Q.B. 643;
89 Coughlan [2001] Q.B. 213; Unilever [1996] S.T.C. 681; Zeqiri [2002] UKHL
3.
90 See further, R. (S) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2007]
108 Niazi [2008] EWCA Civ 755 at [41]; R. (WL (Congo)) v Secretary of State
for the Home Department [2012] 1 A.C. 245, SC; Hely Hutchinson [2018] 1
W.L.R. 1682 at [62].
109 Niazi [2008] EWCA Civ 755 at [34]−[36].
110 Niazi [2008] EWCA Civ 755 at [43]; R. (Jefferies) v Secretary of State for
the Home Department [2018] EWHC 3239 (Admin), DC; R. (Asbestos Victims
Support Groups’ Forum UK) v Lord Chancellor [2020] EWHC 2108 (Admin).
111 Hamble Fisheries [1995] 2 All E.R. 714.
118 The applicant failed on the facts because the court held that the minister
could have concluded that the criteria were applicable.
119 Bibi [2002] 1 W.L.R. 237 at [29]−[30]; Y. Dotan, “Why Administrators
should be Bound by their Policies” (1997) 17 O.J.L.S. 23.
120 Forsyth, “Legitimate Expectations Revisited” [2011] J.R. 429.
121 Mandalia v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2015] UKSC 59 at
[29]–[31].
122 Nadarajah [2005] EWCA Civ 1363 at [68]; R. (WL (Congo)) v Secretary of
State for the Home Department [2012] 1 A.C. 245 at [35].
123 Urmaza [1996] C.O.D. 479; Gangadeen [1998] 1 F.L.R. 762; R. v Secretary
the Home Department [2018] 1 W.L.R. 389 CA (Civ Div) at [38]; Hemmati
[2019] 3 W.L.R. 1156 at [69].
125 Urmaza [1996] C.O.D. 479 at 484.
133 Preston [1985] A.C. 835 at 864. Lord Templeman drew on Lord Denning
MR in HTV [1976] I.C.R. 170 at 185−186.
134 Preston [1985] A.C. 835 at 866−867. The applicant failed on the facts, at
867−871.
135 MFK [1990] 1 W.L.R. 1545; Davies [2011] UKSC 47.
137 Matrix Securities [1994] 1 W.L.R. 334; Corkteck Ltd v Revenue and Customs
144 Re 56 Denton Road [1953] Ch. 51 at 57. No reliance on the original decision
will be possible where that decision was based upon facts which have been
falsified by the applicant, R. v Dacorum BC, Ex p. Walsh [1992] C.O.D. 125
QBD.
145 Rootkin v Kent CC [1981] 1 W.L.R. 1186 CA (Civ Div).
148 See also, Preston [1985] A.C. 835; Gillingham BC v Medway (Chatham
2007), pp.94−105.
150 R. (Shamsun Nahar) v Social Security Commissioners [2002] A.C.D. 28
QBD, for an unsuccessful attempt to plead issue estoppel against a public body.
151 Thrasyvoulou v Secretary of State for the Environment [1990] 2 A.C. 273 HL
156 Society of Medical Officers of Health v Hope [1960] A.C. 551 HL; Caffoor v
Income Tax Commissioner (Colombo) [1961] A.C. 584.
157 Caffoor [1961] A.C. 584 at 597−599.
Q.B. 480 CA at 506; Bowstead and Reynolds on Agency, 21st edn (London:
Sweet & Maxwell, 2018), arts 5, 22, 72, 73.
160 Attorney General for Ceylon v AD Silva [1953] A.C. 461; R. (Bloggs 61) v
Secretary of State for the Home Department [2003] 1 W.L.R. 2724 CA (Civ
Div); The Law Debenture Trust Corp Plc v Ukraine [2019] Q.B. 1121 CA (Civ
Div).
161 Silva [1953] A.C. 461 at 473−478.
[1949] 1 K.B. 227 KBD; which was criticised in Howell v Falmouth Boat
Construction Co Ltd [1951] A.C. 837.
169 Craig, “Representations by Public Bodies” (1977) 93 L.Q.R. 398, 405−406.
172 Western Fish Products Ltd v Penwith DC [1981] 2 All E.R. 204; Brooks and
Burton Ltd v Secretary of State for the Environment (1976) 75 L.G.R. 285 at
296; Rootkin [1981] 1 W.L.R. 1186; South Bucks DC v Flanagan [2002] 1
W.L.R. 2601 at [18].
173 Western Fish [1981] 2 All E.R. 204 at 219. Compare the more liberal
approach to delegation in R. v Southwark LBC, Ex p. Bannerman [1990] C.O.D.
115.
174 R. v East Sussex CC, Ex p. Reprotech (Pebsham) Ltd [2003] 1 W.L.R. 348
HL. See also, Flanagan [2002] 1 W.L.R. 2601; Powergen UK Plc v Leicester
City Council [2000] J.P.L. 1037 CA (Civ Div); Coghurst Wood Leisure Park Ltd
v Secretary of State for Transport, Local Government and the Regions, Rother
DC [2002] EWHC 1091 (Admin); R. (Clear Channel UK Ltd) v Southwark LBC
[2006] EWHC 3325 (Admin); Flattery v Secretary of State for Communities and
Local Government [2010] EWHC 2868 (Admin).
175 Reprotech [2003] 1 W.L.R. 348 at [33].
177 Reprotech [2003] 1 W.L.R. 348 at [35]; Finucane [2019] UKSC 7 at [159].
182 Western Fish [1981] 2 All E.R. 204 at 221; Wells v Minister of Housing and
Local Government [1967] 1 W.L.R. 1000; Re L.(A.C.) (an infant) [1971] 3 All
E.R. 743 at 752.
183 Western Fish [1981] 2 All E.R. 204 at 221−222.
187 Stretch v United Kingdom [2004] 38 E.H.R.R. 12; Europlus Trading Ltd v
189 Ejaz v Secretary of State for the Home Department [1995] C.O.D. 72 CA
(Civ Div).
190 MFK [1990] 1 W.L.R. 1545; Bibi [2002] 1 W.L.R. 237.
191 It has been shown that sovereign immunity did not prevent estoppel applying
against the Crown, F. Farrer, “A Prerogative Fallacy—‘That the King is not
Bound by Estoppel’” (1933) 49 L.Q.R. 511; H. Street, Governmental Liability, A
Comparative Study (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953), p.157.
192 Hulkin, unreported but cited in Mathews [1950] 1 K.B. 148. For similar
reasoning in the US, Utah Power, 243 US 389 (1917); Merrill, 332 US 380
(1947); Hansen, 450 US 785 (1981); Richmond, 496 US 414 (1990).
193 Silva [1953] A.C. 461 at 481; Merrill, 332 US 380 (1947).
194 Local Government Act 1972 s.161; and Dickson v Hurle-Hobbs [1947] K.B.
879 DC.
195 Clairborne Sales Co v Collector of Revenue, 99 So 2d 345 (1957).
197 Maritime Electric Co Ltd v General Dairies Ltd [1937] A.C. 610 at 620;
199 G. Ganz, “Estoppel and Res Judicata in Administrative Law” [1965] P.L.
237, 244−245.
200 Henry Boot [2002] EWCA Civ 983; Wandsworth [2003] EWHC 622
208 Mansell, 476 P 2d 423 (1970) at 448. The court did, however, reserve the
question of what would happen where the body totally lacked the power to
achieve that which estoppel would accomplish against it, at 450.
209 Laker Airways [1977] Q.B. 643 at 707.
Taxi Fleet Operators’ Association [1972] 2 Q.B. 299; and HTV [1976] I.C.R.
170.
211 Reprotech [2003] 1 W.L.R. 348; Flanagan [2002] 1 W.L.R. 2601; Powergen
[2000] J.P.L. 1037; Coghurst [2002] EWHC 1091 (Admin); Clear Channel
[2006] EWHC 3325 (Admin); Flattery [2010] EWHC 2868 (Admin).
212 MFK [1990] 1 W.L.R. 1545; Bibi [2002] 1 W.L.R. 237; Ejaz [1995] C.O.D.
72.
213 Craig, EU Administrative Law, 3rd edn (2018), Ch.18.
215 This is one reason why the example given by Y. Vanderman, “Ultra Vires
Legitimate Expectations: An Argument for Compensation” [2012] P.L. 85, 92, is
wrong, the other being that the claimant would not satisfy the conditions for an
actionable expectation.
216 Flanagan [2002] 1 W.L.R. 2601; Powergen UK Plc v Leicester City Council
[2000] J.P.L. 1037 CA (Civ Div); Reprotech [2003] 1 W.L.R. 348; Coghurst
[2002] EWHC 1091 (Admin); Henry Boot Homes Ltd v Bassetlaw DC [2002]
EWCA Civ 983; Rainbow Insurance Co v Financial Services Commission
[2015] UKPC 15 at [53].
217 See in the USA Portal-to-Portal Act 1947, 29 USCA ss.258 and 259; Trust
Indenture Act 1939, 15 USCA s.77(c); Public Utility Holding Act 1939, 15
USCA s.79 I(d); Defence Production Act 1950, 50 USCA s.2157.
218 F. Newman, “Should Official Advice be Reliable?—Proposals as to Estoppel
220 The arguments in this section are not addressed in Vanderman, “Ultra Vires
223 Moreover, if legislative sanction was held to be required then Ord.53 r.4
would have been ultra vires prior to the passage of the Senior Courts Act 1981.
224 See paras 26–010, 26–016, 26–024 to 26–026, 26–035 and 27–046 to 27–
051.
225 Rowland [2005] Ch. 1 at [80]; A. Brown, “Justifying Compensation for
229 Chapter 30. There may, for example, be good reason to compensate Z who
has suffered loss of amenity due to the ultra vires assurance given to X.
CHAPTER 23
EQUALITY
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
23–001 i. The relevance of equality for judicial review has been touched on
in previous discussion. It is nonetheless important to treat this
topic separately.1 This chapter does not purport to cover all
equality law, since this would require book-length treatment. The
focus is on equality as a precept of judicial review. Equality
features in judicial actions in four principal ways.
ii. First, although slow to develop, there is now case law concerning
equality as a common law precept of judicial review, such that
differential treatment of like groups can lead to invalidation of the
contested decision.
iii. Secondly, statute has made the major contribution to equality law,
with specific statutes dealing with different aspects of equality,
such as race, sex and disability. This legislation has been brought
together in the Equality Act 2010. The details of this legislation
are outside the scope of this book, but there is discussion of the
public sector equality duty that imposes important procedural
obligations on public bodies.
iv. Thirdly, the Human Rights Act 1998 (HRA) brought Convention
rights into UK law, including art.14 ECHR, which enshrines the
principle of equality. It has been relied on in numerous important
cases under the HRA.
v. Fourthly, EU law was, prior to Brexit, a source of equality rights
that could be enforced through national courts, for cases that
come within the scope of EU law. It remained binding on the UK
during the transitional period, which ended on 31 December
2020, and is of some relevance thereafter, as will be explained.
2. COMMON LAW
A. The Principle: Treating Like Groups Alike
23–002 Historically, the common law was not at the forefront in the protection
of equality. The common law was, as McCrudden states, often a
source of discrimination,2 especially for women, although there were,
as he points out, several islands of non-discrimination norms in the
common law, as exemplified by those dealing with the obligations of
common carriers.3
The idea that like groups should be treated in a like manner, and
that different groups should be treated differently, is a central precept.4
The decision as to whether a certain group should be regarded as the
same or different from another inevitably requires value judgments.
Moreover, the basic precept of treating like cases alike conceals
choices as to whether to think of equality in terms of consistency,
results or opportunity.5 The choice can have a marked impact on the
legitimacy of distinctions drawn by government, including the
legitimacy of affirmative action.6
23–003 Thus, formal equality, or equality as consistency, dictates that like
should be treated alike and that different cases should be treated
differently. This important precept is integral to equality law in most
legal systems. It does not, however, dictate any particular substantive
result, and can be met whether people are treated equally badly or
equally well.7
Equality of results, by way of contrast, “goes beyond a demand for
consistent treatment of likes, and requires instead that the result be
equal”, thereby recognising that “apparently identical treatment can in
practice reinforce inequality because of past or on-going
discrimination”.8 There are, however, as Fredman notes, ambiguities
in the meaning accorded to results for these purposes. The focus might
be on the particular individual, it might be on the group to which the
individual belongs, or it might be on equality of outcome designed to
overcome under-representation of a particular group within certain
types of employment.9
Equality of opportunity constitutes a third conception of equality,
and is a middle way between formal equality and equality of result.
Using the metaphor of a race, equality of opportunity is premised on
the assumption that real equality cannot be achieved if individuals
begin this race from different starting points.
There are difficulties with the more precise meaning of this conception
of equality, with some emphasising its procedural dimension, and
others placing greater emphasis on substance so as to ensure that
“persons from all sections of society have a genuinely equal chance of
satisfying the criteria for access to a particular social good”.10
23–005 The legal status of equality must, however, now be seen in the light of
Gallaher where the Supreme Court held that UK domestic law did not
recognise equal treatment as a distinct principle of administrative law.
Consistency was a generally desirable objective, but not an absolute
rule, and it would normally be considered via a challenge for
irrationality, proportionality or legitimate expectation.20 The case must
nonetheless be seen in the light of the facts. The equality argument
was that the claimants should be entitled to the same treatment by the
Competition and Markets Authority as another company, even though
it was acknowledged that the beneficial treatment of the latter
company was erroneous. The Supreme Court held that there was no
obligation of equal treatment or substantive fairness that would require
the CMA to replicate the
error. The result on the facts of Gallaher can be accepted. We should
nonetheless think further about whether equality should only be
capable of being invoked via a rationality challenge. Two points
should be disaggregated in this respect.
First, the rejection of equality as a ground of review in its own
right is based in part at least on the assumption that this would entail
the courts making the conclusive determination of where boundary
lines should be drawn between different categories of people. This
concern is evident in the extract from Lord Hoffmann in Matadeen,
which was quoted with approval in Gallaher. This concern is, with
respect, misconceived. Recognition of equal treatment as a ground of
review does not necessarily entail substitution of judgment by the
reviewing court for that of the primary decision-maker as to where the
line is drawn between different groups. This is readily apparent from
the developed jurisprudence on the application of art.14 ECHR,
pursuant to the HRA. The courts, as will be seen below,21 have
developed differing intensities of review in such equality claims,
depending on the nature of the interest infringed. They have regularly
accorded the primary decision-maker latitude, intervening only where
there was no reasonable foundation for the contested distinction. It
would therefore clearly be possible to do this in the context of non-
HRA claims.
Secondly, it might be argued that there is little if any difference
between the approach in Gallaher and the suggestion in the previous
paragraph. The former frames judicial review in terms of rationality,
with the lack thereof informed by inequality. The latter frames judicial
review in terms of equality, applied such that the court intervenes if
the contested distinction lacks reasonable foundation. The outcome
might be the same, but the latter approach is preferable. The latter
approach avoids the complex case law concerning the precise meaning
of rationality review and how this should be applied in equality cases.
The latter approach also has the merit of placing the “correct concept”
in the driving seat: the claim is that the administration exercised its
discretion unequally, in the sense that it drew distinctions between
categories of people that were not sustainable. This unequal treatment
is the core rationale for intervention. Reasonableness can then properly
be considered as part of the intensity of review, thereby affording
latitude to the administration as to the making of such distinctions.
3. STATUTORY INTERVENTION AND STATUTORY
INTERPRETATION
A. General
23–006 This is not the place for detailed analysis of the complex body of
statute law concerning various aspects of equality.22 Suffice it to say
for the present that Parliament intervened and dealt with
discrimination on a variety of grounds. These include race,23 gender
discrimination and equality24 and disability.25 This
legislation has now been consolidated by the Equality Act 2010.26 The
very existence of these prohibitions on discrimination means that
groups cannot be validly distinguished merely because of, for
example, their respective ethnic backgrounds. These foundational
statutes were amended, in part, because of the need to comply with EU
law.
The centrality of non-discrimination can also be seen in the way in
which the courts use this principle as an interpretative device when
considering statutes. Thus, in Fitzpatrick27 the House of Lords was
willing to construe the word “family” within legislation to include a
same sex partner. The word could legitimately bear a different
meaning in 1999, as compared to the meaning when it was initially
enacted in 1920.28
23–008 The duty applies to public authorities as listed in Sch.19 of the 2010
Act and to bodies exercising a public function, which is defined as a
function of a public nature for the purposes of the HRA 1998.33 It is,
moreover, open to a minister of the Crown to impose specific duties on
public authorities for the better performance of the duties contained in
s.149(1).34 Failure in respect of these duties does not give rise to a
cause of action in private law,35 but it can be the subject of judicial
review. The nature of the duty in s.149 can be best understood through
the case law interpreting the analogous duties under the earlier
legislation on race, sex and disability discrimination.
The initial case law was not especially promising,36 but the
potential of the new duties was revealed in Elias.37 The applicant was
born in Hong Kong, her mother was from Iraq and her father from Iraq
or India. They were all British subjects, and were interned by the
Japanese for four years in 1941. The applicant had lived in the UK
since 1976. The government in 2000 introduced an ex gratia payment
of £10,000 for British civilians interned by the Japanese during the
war, but imposed a birth link such that a person did not qualify unless
the claimant, or a parent/grandparent was born in the UK. The
applicant argued that the government was in breach of its equality duty
under the Race Relations Act 1976. Elias J held that the criteria for
compensation had an obvious discriminatory effect, and that even if
this was not so obvious consideration of the race equality duty was still
required. There was no evidence that the defendant had assessed the
extent of any adverse impact, nor other ways in which it might have
been eliminated or minimised. This omission could not be corrected
after the policy had been adopted. While this aspect of the case was
not contested on appeal, Arden LJ nonetheless stated that38:
“It is the clear purpose of s.71 to require public bodies to whom that provision applies to give
advance consideration to issues of race discrimination before making any policy decision
that may be affected by them…this provision must be seen as an integral and important part
of the mechanisms for ensuring the fulfilment of the aims of anti-discrimination legislation.”
4. THE HRA
The Protocol entered into force in 2005 for those states that had
ratified, when the requisite ten ratifications had been secured. The UK
has not, however, signed or ratified this Protocol.57
i. Michalak
23–011 Article 14 ECHR has been applied by the UK courts pursuant to the
HRA. The issues to be considered were initially laid down by Brooke
LJ in Michalak.58 The House of Lords expressed reservations about
this approach, but it was influential in the early case law and their
Lordships’ reservations can only be understood in the light of Brooke
LJ’s approach:
“(i) Do the facts fall within the ambit of one or more of the substantive Convention provisions
…(ii) If so, was there different treatment as respects that right between the complainant on
the one hand and other persons put forward for comparison (‘the chosen comparators’) on
the other? (iii) Were the chosen comparators in an analogous situation to the complainant’s
situation? (iv) If so, did the difference in treatment have an objective and reasonable
justification: in other words, did it pursue a legitimate aim and did the differential treatment
bear a reasonable relationship of proportionality to the aim sought to be achieved? The third
test addresses the question whether the chosen comparators were in a sufficiently analogous
situation to the complainant’s situation for the different treatment to be relevant to the
question whether the complainant’s enjoyment of his Convention right has been free from
article 14 discrimination.”
The initial question was therefore whether the facts fell within the
ambit of a Convention right. If they did so the court had to consider
whether there was different treatment as respects that right, as between
the complainant and other persons put forward for comparison, the
chosen comparators. It was for the court to decide whether the chosen
comparators were in an analogous situation to the complainant. It was
also for the court to decide whether the difference of treatment was on
a ground that fell within art.14 ECHR. This article lists a number of
specific discriminatory grounds, but these are prefaced by the words
“on any grounds such as”. It has been held that if the ground relied on
is not specifically listed in art.14 then it must be broadly of the same
kind.59
If there is some prima facie discriminatory treatment judged by the
above criteria, the court will then determine whether there is an
objective and reasonable justification for the difference in treatment.
This requires the court to decide whether the difference in treatment
was in pursuit of a legitimate aim, and whether there was a reasonable
relationship to the aim sought to be achieved. In general terms, the test
for review will be that laid down by Lord Steyn in Daly,60 which has
been considered earlier.61
ii. Carson
23–012 The approach in Michalak for deciding on art.14 ECHR was called
into question in Carson,62 the facts of which will be considered later.
Doubts had been raised in earlier case law,63 and these concerns were
reiterated in Carson and later cases.64 The essence of the concern was
that the Michalak approach could be over rigid, and there could be
overlap between the different stages of the analysis, more especially
questions two, three and four.65 There is force in this view and the
taxonomy of issues to be decided in discrimination cases should not
hinder the resolution of cases by forcing the courts to divide stages of
the analysis in an overly rigid manner.
It should, however, also be recognised that the substance of the
issues set out in the Michalak formula will normally have to be
addressed by the court. Thus, it is axiomatic that an applicant will have
to satisfy the court that the facts fall
within a provision of the ECHR, since if they do not then art.14 cannot
be invoked. The applicant will also have to show that the alleged
discrimination is on a ground covered by art.14. Nor is it possible to
avoid discussion of comparators. To be sure this discussion should not
obscure resolution of the case before the court, but it is nonetheless
central to the very idea of discrimination. It is important moreover to
recognise that objective justification is a separate issue that becomes
pertinent once a prima facie case of discrimination has been found to
exist.66
23–013 Given that this is so, it is interesting to reflect on why the Michalak
test was problematic. The difficulty with the Michalak formula resides
in the division between questions two and three and in that between
questions three and four.
The very division between question two and three was premised on
the assumption that one could identify in relatively abstract terms a
person or group as the appropriate comparator with the applicant, and
then make a separate, more concrete determination as to whether the
chosen comparators were in an analogous situation to the applicant,
and hence whether the difference in treatment constituted
discrimination. This division can be problematic and artificial,
especially where on closer examination the applicant and the chosen
comparator are not truly in a sufficiently analogous situation for the
difference in treatment to constitute prima facie discrimination.67 The
natural inclination is to run together questions two and three from
Michalak and simply ask whether the applicant and the chosen
comparator really are in an analogous situation.68
This is in effect the approach taken by the Strasbourg Court, as
exemplified by a case such as Van der Mussele.69 The applicant
argued that provisions of Belgian law requiring advocates to give legal
assistance to those who needed it were contrary to arts 4 and 14
ECHR, given that such obligations were not placed on other
professionals, such as doctors, dentists, veterinary surgeons and the
like. The Strasbourg Court rejected the claim, holding that the
applicant and the other professionals were not in an analogous
situation, since there were differences concerning their legal status,
manner of entry to the profession, the nature of their functions and the
manner in which they were performed. Each profession was
characterised by a corpus of rights and obligations and it would be
artificial to isolate one aspect thereof.70
The Strasbourg Court did not consider whether the applicant and
another individual or group might in abstract terms be regarded as
comparators, and then decide whether in more concrete terms they
were in an analogous situation. It proceeded directly to the latter stage
of the inquiry to decide whether, in relation to the provision of services
to those in need, the applicant and members of other professions were
in an analogous situation. It did not thereby ignore the comparator
issue. This is, as stated above, central to the very idea of
discrimination. The Strasbourg approach indicates that it is only by
paying attention to the specific allegations of differential treatment that
one can decide whether the two individuals really are in an analogous
situation, and hence whether there has been discrimination.
23–014 The division between stages three and four of the Michalak formula
can also be problematic. Courts may simply go straight to the issue of
objective justification, where they believe that this is the heart of the
issue, without bothering unduly with the other stages of the inquiry.
The very idea of objective justification can, moreover, be brought into
play within stage three as well as within stage four.71 Thus, it is open
to a court to conclude that a relevant difference between two groups
means that they are not in an analogous situation and hence that there
has been no discrimination. In such instances, the existence of the
relevant difference is the justification for the difference in treatment.
The concept of objective justification is also used in cases where a
court has found that the two groups are in an analogous situation, and
hence the differential treatment is prima facie discriminatory, but can
be saved because there is some objective justification for the
difference, such as the need to correct past discrimination. It will
normally be for the state, or public body, to discharge the burden of
proof if a case is resolved on objective justification in this second
sense.72
The difficulties of maintaining the distinction between questions
two and three, and between questions three and four, are exemplified
by Carson itself. The applicant had immigrated to South Africa from
the UK. She received a pension to which she was entitled at the age of
60, since she had paid all necessary national insurance contributions.
Pensioners who were resident in the UK received annual cost of living
increases, as did those living in countries that had reciprocal Treaty
arrangements with the UK, but the applicant did not receive any such
increases. She argued that this constituted discrimination contrary to
art.14 ECHR, read in conjunction with art.1 of the First Protocol.
The House of Lords rejected the claim. The relevant comparator
for the applicant was the way in which pensioners in the UK were
treated in relation to annual increments to the pension. The essence of
their Lordships’ decision was, however, that while pensioners in the
UK and abroad might, in abstract terms, be regarded as the appropriate
comparator, closer inquiry revealed that they were not in an analogous
situation, because the provision of pensions was regarded as but one
part of the overall regime of taxation and social security and the
former paid tax in the UK while the latter did not. The distinction
between the two groups was therefore justified, in the first of the
senses identified above: the relevant difference was the justification
for the difference in treatment.
C. Strict Scrutiny and Rationality Review: The
Distinction
23–015 The issue as to how far the court should defer to the Executive, or
accord it a discretionary area of judgment, has arisen in litigation
under art.14, in much the same way as it has in relation to other
Convention articles. There was an
interesting tension in the courts’ jurisprudence. Some courts were
willing to accord such a discretionary area of judgment where the
justification for the differential treatment raised issues of social and
economic policy.73 Other courts were less willing to do so, even where
the subject-matter related to social and economic policy. The very fact
that the claim concerned discrimination in relation to such policy was
seen as raising issues of high constitutional importance, with the
consequence that there was searching scrutiny to determine whether
there was a proper and rational justification for the difference in
treatment.74 This issue should now be seen in the light of the House of
Lords’ decision in Carson.
It is common for legal systems to distinguish between different
types of equality claims and to apply different degrees of scrutiny
accordingly. This approach has been endorsed by the House of Lords
in Carson,75 the facts of which were set out above. It was accepted that
pension rights constituted possessions within the meaning of art.1 of
the First Protocol and that her foreign residence was a “personal
characteristic” for the purposes of art.14 ECHR. The key issue was
whether the differential treatment between the applicant and those who
received annual increases constituted discrimination for the purposes
of art.14. The House of Lords held that it did not.
It was acknowledged that the applicant was treated differently
from a pensioner who lived in the UK. Discrimination meant,
however, the failure to treat like cases alike, or treating cases alike
where there were differences between them.76 Whether cases were
sufficiently alike was “partly a matter of values and partly a matter of
rationality”.77 A differential standard of review applied depending on
the ground of the alleged discrimination.
Thus, Lord Hoffmann stated that characteristics such as race, caste,
noble birth, membership of a political party, gender and sexual
orientation were seldom if ever acceptable grounds for difference in
treatment and the courts would carefully examine the reasons for
differential treatment in relation to such characteristics. Discrimination
on such grounds could not be justified on utilitarian grounds, since that
would offend the “notion that everyone is entitled to be treated as an
individual and not a statistical unit”.78 Lord Walker also followed US
law and treated such grounds of discrimination as suspect, such that
they would be subject to especially severe scrutiny.79
23–016 The standard of review for other forms of discrimination was less
demanding. Where differences of treatment were made on grounds
such as ability, occupation, wealth or education the courts would
demand some rational
justification. These differences in treatment were, said Lord
Hoffmann, normally dependent on considerations of the public
interest, which were “very much a matter for the democratically
elected branches of government”.80 Lord Walker also endorsed less
exacting rationality scrutiny for this second general category of
differential treatment.81
Their Lordships in Carson placed the present case firmly in the
second category. There was no discrimination on a suspect ground
such as sex or race. The case therefore fell to be decided on criteria of
rationality, taking due account of the choices made by the
democratically elected government. The differential treatment of
pensioners at home and abroad was justified because pensions were
regarded as part of the overall system of taxation and social security.
The fact that the applicant paid national insurance contributions was
not a sufficient condition for entitlement to the same retirement
pension as paid to pensioners in the UK. Such contributions were not
exclusively linked to pensions, but were rather a source of revenue
used to fund social security in general as well as the NHS. The
interlocking nature of the taxation and social security system viewed
as a whole meant that it was impossible to separate a single element,
retirement pensions, and treat it in a disaggregated manner.82 There
were therefore valid reasons for differentiating between the applicant
resident abroad, and pensioners resident in the UK. Given that this was
so, the courts should, moreover, respect the choice made by Parliament
as to how much she should receive.83
This approach has been affirmed in subsequent cases. Thus, the
Supreme Court held in SG and DA that where the discrimination claim
raised issues of socio-economic policy the claimant would have to
show that the contested policy was manifestly without reasonable
foundation.84
5. EU LAW
A. Pre-Brexit
23–021 Prior to Brexit, EU law on equality and discrimination had a
significant effect on UK law.101 The principle of equality and the
prohibition of discrimination are found expressly within a number of
Treaty articles,102 but the ECJ held at an early stage that these were
merely specific enunciations of the general principle of equality as one
of the fundamental principles of EU law,103 which must be observed
by any court.104 The principal areas to which equality applied were as
follows.
First, EU law proscribed discrimination on the grounds of
nationality in art.18 TFEU. The proscription of nationality
discrimination was recognized more specifically in arts 45, 49 and 56
TFEU, which prohibit discriminatory treatment in relation to free
movement of workers, freedom of establishment and freedom to
provide services in another Member State. Secondly, EU law
prohibited discrimination in relation to pay on gender grounds, and
this was extended to cover equal treatment, art.157 TFEU. Thirdly, EU
legal intervention in relation to equality was also evident through
art.19 TFEU, which gives the EU legislative competence to take
appropriate action to combat discrimination based on sex, racial or
ethnic origin, religion or belief, disability, age or sexual orientation.105
Fourthly, the proscription of discrimination was further evident in
relation to the EU’s common policies, such as the Common
Agricultural Policy. Fifthly, EU law is also relevant for equality
because of the Charter of Fundamental Rights, which is accorded the
same legal value as the Treaties.106 Chapter III of the Charter deals
with equality. It contains a basic equality before the law guarantee, as
well as a provision similar, though not identical, to that in art.19
TFEU. There is also a reference to positive action provisions in the
field of gender equality, protection for children’s rights, and some
weaker provisions guaranteeing “respect” for cultural diversity, for the
rights of the elderly and for persons with disabilities. The Charter is
binding on Member States whenever they act within the scope of EU
law.107
B. Post-Brexit
23–022 The UK left the EU on 31 January 2020, but remained bound by EU
law during the transitional period, which ended on 31 December
2020.108 This included the rules on equal treatment.
The UK remains bound by important provisions concerning equal
treatment after the end of the transitional period, pursuant to Part Two
of the Withdrawal Agreement, which concerns protection for the rights
of EU citizens in the UK, and UK citizens in the EU.109 These
protections have been enshrined in UK law through the European
Union (Withdrawal Agreement) Act 2020 ss.7–17.
The UK will not, subject to the above, be bound by EU law after
the end of the transitional period. However, the directives, regulations
and decisions relating to equal treatment form part of UK law,
pursuant to the European Union (Withdrawal) Act 2018 (EUWA), as
amended. Thus, the UK law implementing EU directives is preserved
through EUWA s.2; directly applicable regulations and decisions are
retained through EUWA s.3; and directly effective rights are preserved
through EUWA s.4. The EU law preserved as UK law in this manner
may be amended prior to the end of the transitional period, to ensure
that it makes
sense in a post-Brexit world. The UK Parliament can then decide
thereafter whether to retain, amend or repeal these provisions. Whether
the UK retains the provisions on equal treatment remains to be seen.
The status of the EU Charter of Rights post-Brexit was considered in a
previous chapter.110
Ch.1.
6 Fredman, Discrimination Law (2011), Ch.5.
Equality” [2010] P.L. 672; Sir P. Sales, “The Public Sector Equality Duty”
[2011] J.R. 1; S. Fredman, “The Public Sector Equality Duty” (2011) 40 I.L.J.
405; T. Hickman, “Too Hot, too Cold or Just Right? The Development of the
Public Sector Equality Duties in Administrative Law” [2013] P.L. 325.
30 Race Relations Act 1976 s.71(1); Sex Discrimination Act 1975 s.76A(1);
economic inequality in s.1 of the Equality Act 2010, which was brought partially
into force in April 2018; S. Fredman, “Positive Duties and Socio-Economic
Disadvantage: Bringing Disadvantage onto the Equality Agenda” [2010]
E.H.R.L.R. 290.
32 Equality Act 2010 s.149(7).
44 R. (Brown) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2008] EWHC 3158
(Admin); R. (Domb) v Hammersmith and Fulham LBC [2009] EWCA Civ 941;
R. (Bapio Action Ltd) v Royal College of General Practitioners [2014] EWHC
1416 (Admin); R. (MA) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2014]
EWCA Civ 13.
45 R. (Bailey) v Brent LBC [2011] EWCA Civ 1586.
46 Hickman, “Too Hot, Too Cold or Just Right?” [2013] P.L. 325.
State for Work and Pensions [2013] EWCA Civ 1345; London and Quadrant
Housing Trust v Patrick [2019] EWHC 1263 (QB); Kannan v Newham BC
[2019] EWCA Civ 57; R. (Williams) v Caerphilly CBC [2019] EWHC 1618
(Admin).
48 R. (Aspinall) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2014] EWHC 4134
(Admin); R. (A) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2015] EWHC 159
(Admin); IS v Director of Legal Aid Casework [2015] EWHC 1965 (Admin);
McMahon v Watford BC [2020] EWCA Civ 497; Luton Community Housing v
Durdana [2020] EWCA Civ 445.
49 Bailey [2011] EWCA Civ 1586.
50 Forward v Aldwyck Housing Group [2020] 1 W.L.R. 584 CA (Civ Div).
54 Jacobs, White and Ovey, The European Convention on Human Rights, 5th edn
60 R. (Daly) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2001] 2 A.C. 532 HL
at [26].
61 See paras 20–044 to 20–049.
62 R. (Carson) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2006] 1 A.C. 173
HL.
63 Nasser v United Bank of Kuwait [2002] 1 W.L.R. 1868 CA (Civ Div) at [56];
Ghaidan v Godin-Mendoza [2004] 2 A.C. 557 at [134]; Shamoon v Chief
Constable of the Royal Ulster Constabulary [2003] 2 All E.R. 26 at [11].
64 Esfandiari v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2006] H.R.L.R. 26 CA
(Civ Div); AL (Serbia) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2008]
UKHL 42; Langford v Secretary of State for Defence [2015] EWHC 875 (Ch).
65 Carson [2006] 1 A.C. 173 at [29]−[33], [61]−[70]; Esfandiari [2006]
H.R.L.R. 26 at [8].
66 A. Baker, “Comparison Tainted by Justification: Against a ‘Compendious
Question’ in Art 14 Discrimination” [2006] P.L. 476.
67 R. (Cossey) v Secretary of State for Justice [2013] EWHC 3029 (Admin); R.
(Mahoney) v Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government [2015]
EWHC 589 (Admin).
68 R. (UNISON) v Lord Chancellor [2017] 3 W.L.R. 409, SC; R. (Stott) v
Secretary of State for Justice [2020] A.C. 51 SC.
69 Van der Mussele v Belgium (1984) 6 E.H.R.R. 163.
75 Carson [2006] 1 A.C. 173. The leading judgments were given by Lord
Hoffmann and Lord Walker. Lord Nicholls and Lord Rodger agreed with both
judgments. Lord Carswell dissented; Baker, “Comparison Tainted by
Justification: Against a ‘Compendious Question’ in Art 14 Discrimination”
[2006] P.L. 476.
76 Carson [2006] 1 A.C. 173 at [14], Lord Hoffmann.
84 R. (SG) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2015] UKSC 16 at [92]–
[93]; R. (DA) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2019] UKSC 21 at
[55]–[59], [88], [92], [110]–[118], [124].
85 A v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2005] 2 A.C. 68 HL; Clift
92 R. (Hooper) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2005] 1 W.L.R. 1681
HL.
93 Welfare Reform and Pensions Act 1999.
C.D.E. 3.
103 Ruckdeschel v Hauptzollamt Hamburg-St Annen (117/76 and 16/77) [1977]
Press, 2002).
106 TEU art.6(1).
108 Agreement on the withdrawal of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and
Northern Ireland from the European Union and the European Atomic Energy
Community [2019] OJ C384 I/01, art.127.
109 Agreement on the withdrawal of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and
Northern Ireland from the European Union, arts.23, 24, Annex 1.
110 See para.20–066.
CHAPTER 24
INVALIDITY
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
24–001 i. This chapter is concerned with the result of finding that a decision
is ultra vires and the status of the decision pending such a finding.
A person who wishes to challenge a decision may do so directly
or collaterally, and the relationship between the two is considered
in the next section.
ii. The basic principle is as follows. If the decision-maker had no
power to take the contested action then the decision should have
no effect. It will be void ab initio, retrospectively null. Void is,
however, a relative not an absolute concept. Thus, if an ultra vires
act has occurred, and it is challenged by the right person in the
correct proceedings within the specified time limits, it will be
retrospectively null. There are nonetheless two principal
difficulties with application of this foundational proposition.
iii. First, if the correct person successfully challenges the
administrative act in the correct proceedings, within the time lime
limits, and there are no bars to relief then the act is retrospectively
void. However, the implications this has for other acts done after
the act that was successfully challenged is a separate conceptual
issue. The initial invalid act will often appear to be factually valid
and people may well have acted on that assumption. The validity
of the later acts depends on whether the second actor has legal
power to act, even though the first act is invalid. This issue is
determined by looking at the relationship between the two acts.
The empowering statute will normally provide little guidance on
this issue, and the reviewing court will decide whether any acts
done pursuant to the initial unlawful act can be regarded as valid.
iv. Secondly, the foundational proposition that invalid acts are
retrospectively void has on occasion been obscured by judicial
use of the term voidable to describe the consequences of invalid
action, rather than void. The rationale for doing so has varied, but
the general answer is that some courts have sought to escape from
the conclusions that will follow if they find that the contested
decision was made outside jurisdiction and hence retrospectively
invalid. They have used the term voidable to express the
conclusion that the contested order should only be ineffective
from the date when it was found to be invalid by the court, and
not from the date when it was first made. The nature of this
problem and the appropriate way of dealing with it will be
considered later in this chapter.
2. TYPES OF CHALLENGE
24–006 Boddington was distinguished in DPP v T.17 It was held that the
normal rule in relation to an order of the court was that it must be
treated as valid unless and until it was set aside. Thus, even if the order
should not have been made, a person could be liable for any breach
committed before it was set aside. The court held that the person
against whom an ASBO was made could challenge that order on
appeal, and there was no obvious reason why he should be allowed to
raise that
issue as a defence in subsequent breach proceedings rather than by
way of appeal. The policy consideration that influenced the finding in
Boddington that the magistrates’ court had jurisdiction to determine
the validity of a byelaw or administrative decision was absent when
the issue was the validity of an order of the court.
24–016 Lord Morris of Borth-y-Gest used the term voidable in this sense in
Ridge.53 In this context voidable is simply descriptive of the need for
the chief constable to challenge his dismissal. Unless he did so the
decision of the Watch Committee would prevail. In this sense all
decisions are voidable. His Lordship went on to say that if and when
the court found for the individual the decision would be null and void.
ii. An alternative to locus standi
24–018 In some cases the term voidable has been used to indicate the relative
gravity of the defect. This is exemplified by the Paddington case.55
The basis on which a rating list had been compiled was challenged in
the courts. The rating authority argued that if the list were struck down
there would be widespread administrative upheaval, particularly if the
invalidity meant that the list was retrospectively null. To circumvent
this problem Lord Denning MR said that a grave invalidity would
render the list a nullity. There would be no need for an order to quash a
list tainted by such a defect. Less serious defects would only render the
list voidable, with the result that any invalidity would only be
prospective, not retrospective. The rating assessments could remain
valid until replaced by a new list.
This reasoning is questionable. The concept of a grave defect
leading to a nullity which need not be challenged either directly or
collaterally, and yet can still be ignored without ill-effects to the
individual, is difficult to comprehend. The offending order will not
somehow disappear of its own accord. The formulation of the term
voidable is equally questionable. On the law as it existed at the time, a
non-jurisdictional error could only be struck down if it was an error of
law on the face of the record. There was no patent error in the
Paddington case. The reasons why Lord Denning MR distorted the
meanings of void and voidable in order to avoid the consequences of
retrospective nullity will be discussed below.
24–019 It was legitimate to use the term voidable to describe an error of law
within jurisdiction. Such mistakes were valid until quashed, and
actions taken in pursuance of an order tainted by a patent non-
jurisdictional error remained valid, even when the order had been
quashed.
Thus, in Head56 a man was convicted of carnal knowledge with a
mental defective. He argued by way of defence that he could not be
guilty since the medical certificates did not contain any evidence
showing the woman to be a moral defective. The majority of the
House of Lords upheld this argument and set the conviction aside.
Lord Denning concurred in this result, but his reasoning differed. He
stated that the defect in the detention order only rendered it voidable
and not void. A voidable order would remain good until set aside.
Thus, at the time of the offence the detention order was still good, the
woman was legally held, and the accused could be guilty of the crime
charged.
The expansion in the scope of jurisdictional error, and the
corresponding demise of the category of error of law within
jurisdiction means, however, that voidable will no longer have a role
to play in this regard.
i. First principles
24–022 It is not uncommon to see statements that the concepts of void and
voidable are unnatural inhabitants of the administrative law world,
viewed as alien concepts grafted onto public law from the world of
contract and status.63 This is mistaken. Even if those terms originated
within private law, and this is by no means clear, they have been in
administrative law ever since we have had such jurisprudence for over
400 years.64 The traditional meaning of the term void, in the sense of
retrospective nullity, captures the natural conclusion that if a decision-
maker had no power to act then the act should be of no consequences.
As Lord Diplock stated65:
“It would, however, be inconsistent with the doctrine of ultra vires as it has been developed in
English law as a means of controlling abuse of power by the executive arm of government if
the judgment of a court in proceedings properly constituted that a statutory instrument was
ultra vires were to have any lesser consequence in law than to render the instrument
incapable of ever having had any legal effect upon the rights or duties of the parties to the
proceedings.”
24–024 It has been argued that manipulation of void and voidable is often a
mask to avoid paying damages. Thus if English law developed a more
general compensatory remedy for harm caused by ultra vires acts
many problems concerned with void and voidable would disappear.
Lord Wilberforce expressed a powerful argument along these lines.79
There is no doubt an argument for a remedy for loss caused by ultra
vires administrative action, which will be considered below.80
The relevance of this to the general debate on void and voidable
must be kept in perspective. It is not a panacea that will solve all
complexities attendant upon use of these terms. The common case is
where the individual asserts the invalidity of an administrative act, and
the public body raises the argument that this could have drastic
administrative consequences. A developed system of damages could
be useful. If the public body’s fears are well founded, a court could say
that the action was void, but that the only remedy was compensation,
and not an order to quash the act.
The addition of a damages remedy does not, however, dispel the
need for judicial discretion. If there was a real prospect of
administrative upheaval the court could use its discretion to restrict the
results of the decision being void instead of juggling with void and
voidable. The invalidity would show only in the public body’s liability
to pay compensation. This may be a preferable way forward. The
presence of such a remedy would not, however, show that judicial
discretion was unnecessary. It would, rather, provide a more
convenient and equitable framework within which to exercise that
discretion.
iv. Relevance of parliamentary redress
24–025 The courts could turn a deaf ear to pleas of injustice or administrative
chaos, and contend that it would be for Parliament to redress any
resulting confusion. This may be warranted in some cases. There are
however difficulties with the idea that Parliament can remedy the
problem. In practical terms, it is unlikely that Parliament could pass a
series of one-off pieces of legislation to remedy the effects of
retrospective nullity. The constitutional problems are more severe, as
is apparent from the sequence of events. The court states that
administrative action is retrospectively void and this produces
problems because it will involve large expenditure, or losses.
Parliament is pressed to intervene. The problem with any such
intervention is that it would constitute retrospective legislation, which
takes
away peoples’ rights, those having been given by the court’s judgment.
Such legislation has always been frowned upon, and correctly so.81
A. Hearings
24–027 The majority view in Ridge82 was that failure to comply with the rules
as to hearings rendered the decision void. This is in accord with
precedent and principle. The rationale for regarding such a failure as
leading to a void decision was expressed by Lord Selbourne LC:
“there would be no decision within the meaning of the statute if there
were anything of that sort done contrary to the essence of justice”.83
There have been many other cases where the courts have stated that a
failure to hear renders the decision void or a nullity. Thus, the action
of a committee, which purported to expel a person from a club without
a hearing, was held to be null and void, as was the refusal of a pension
to a policeman who had resigned from the force.84 Cases of collateral
attack are also instructive.85 A number of these cases explicitly held
that a failure to hear rendered the decision void.86 Even where this was
not so stated it was implicit in the ability to attack the decision
collaterally: if a failure to hear constituted only an error within
jurisdiction the decision could not have been attacked collaterally.
Despite this long line of authority Lord Evershed in Ridge87
decided that failure to hear only made the decision voidable. His
Lordship did not find the above cases convincing, and relied on
Osgood88 as support for the proposition that the court should only
interfere if there had been a real and substantial miscarriage of justice.
Lord Evershed said that this meant that the decision must be voidable
and not void.89 His Lordship’s reasons for distinguishing cases holding
that a failure to hear made the decision void were however
unconvincing,
and the Osgood case did not in reality support Lord Evershed’s
argument.90 Moreover, even if the Osgood case did provide support
for the idea that a finding should only be quashed if there had been a
substantial miscarriage of justice, the conclusion that therefore the
decision must be voidable rather than void does not follow. It is, like
his Lordship’s reasoning concerning the declaration, based upon an
absolute rather than relative meaning of the term void. Lord Diplock
has stated91 that a breach of the rules of natural justice should render
the decision void. This has hopefully laid the argument to rest.
24–028 There are also several authorities for the proposition that bias results in
a decision being void: a biased judge ceases to be a judge at all.92
Further, if bias only made a finding voidable then declaration would
not on traditional theory have been available, and the court could not
have quashed in the presence of a no certiorari clause, but both
occurred.93 Despite these arguments some maintain that bias only
renders a decision voidable.94 This view is based on Dimes.95 A
decision of the Lord Chancellor in the Court of Chancery was
challenged on appeal on the basis that the Lord Chancellor possessed a
financial interest in the company that was the subject of the litigation.
Parke B, in giving advice to the House of Lords, stated that such bias
only resulted in the decision being voidable and not void. There are,
however, a number of points to notice about the case.96 It was
concerned with an appeal from one superior court to another and not
with review. Appeal is the classic instance of a voidable act,97 whereas
for review to be applicable the act must be void or voidable in the area
hitherto covered by patent errors of law within jurisdiction. Moreover,
the authorities cited by Parke B do not support his proposition.98
B. Waiver
24–029 An argument used to support the proposition that a breach of natural
justice only makes a decision voidable and not void is that such rules
can be waived.99 The argument is that jurisdictional defects cannot be
waived100 and, therefore, if the rules of natural justice can be waived
this is indicative that the defect is not jurisdictional. There are cases
indicating that a plaintiff can be barred from obtaining a remedy by
waiver,101 which will be discussed later.102 However, this does not
lead to the conclusion that a defect of natural justice only renders a
determination voidable.
In terms of principle, the rationale for saying that jurisdictional
defects cannot be waived is that the limits to an administrator’s
jurisdiction are imposed by statute, and by common law principles. It
should not, therefore, be open to the individual to disregard those
boundaries, which are not established solely for the individual’s
benefit, but for the general public interest. They cannot therefore be
waived at the instance of an individual. This may be correct as a
starting point. It is, however, modified in a number of respects.103 It
can be argued that defects of natural justice should be susceptible to
waiver, without this involving the conclusion that such defects are
only voidable and not void. A primary purpose of natural justice is to
protect the individual. If the individual is aware that the rules are not
being fully complied with, but is content to proceed, he should not be
able to raise the defect thereafter.104 There is nothing inconsistent in
admitting a doctrine of waiver and still regarding a procedural defect if
not waived as producing a void decision.
In terms of the case law, a number of cases see no inconsistency
between waiver and voidness. It would of course be open to society to
say that there is a wider public interest underlying the procedural rules
over and beyond that of the particular individual. The result would be
that procedural defects could never be waived. However, the current
case law does not in general adopt this attitude. While it continues to
regard the procedural rules as imposed primarily for the benefit of the
individual, there is no conceptual inconsistency in admitting that such
rules can be waived and yet denominating a breach of those rules as
jurisdictional leading to a void decision.105 It is to be hoped that the
remarks of Lord Diplock mentioned above have settled the law in this
area.
6. PROBLEMS OF PROOF
C. Partial Invalidity
24–035 A court may under certain conditions hold that the invalid part of an
order can be severed, while the remainder is still valid. The court will
not, however, “rewrite” the order, and the invalid part must not be
inextricably interwoven with the whole order.130 The leading decision
is Hutchinson.131 The appellants were convicted of offences under the
Greenham Common Byelaws, in that they entered a protected area as
defined by the byelaw. They contended by way of defence that the
byelaw
was invalid, because it was in breach of the enabling legislation. The
statute stated that byelaws could be made provided that they did not
interfere with rights of common, and the appellants claimed that the
byelaws interfered with such rights. The issue for the House of Lords
was, therefore, whether the invalid part of the byelaw could be
severed. Their Lordships distinguished between two situations.
The first was where textual severance was possible. In this instance
a test of substantial severability was to be applied, which would be
satisfied when the valid text was unaffected by, and independent of,
the invalid. The second situation was where textual severance was not
possible. The test was whether the legislative instrument with the parts
omitted would be a substantially different law from what it would have
been if the omitted parts had been included.
In National Association of Health Stores132 Sedley LJ extended the
reasoning in Hutchinson to cases of curable omissions in regulations.
He stated that:
“… to strike down an entire regulation because of a curable omission which appears to have
affected nobody, however cogent the case in legal theory for doing so, would represent a
triumph of logic over reason”.133
If therefore:
“… an omission can be made good without disrupting the existing, presumptively lawful, text,
and if so far the omission appears to have done no harm, I see no good reason why, instead
of permitting the rule-maker to insert the missing brick, the entire structure should be pulled
down.”134
3 Case of the Marshalsea (1612) 10 Co. Rep. 68b; Terry v Huntington (1668)
Hard 480; Fuller v Fotch (1700) Carth 346; Doswell v Impey (1823) 1 B. & C.
163.
4 Rubinstein, Jurisdiction and Illegality (1965), pp.39−46.
7 See further Groenvelt v Burwell (1700) 3 Salk 354; Gahan v Maingay (1793)
Ridg. L. & S. 20.
8 Gahan v Maingay (1793) Ridg. L. & S. 20.
9 Chief Adjudication Officer v Foster [1993] A.C. 754 HL; Howker v Secretary
of State for Work and Pensions [2003] I.C.R. 405 CA (Civ Div); Dong v
National Crime Agency [2014] UKFTT 369.
10 Boddington v British Transport Police [1999] 2 A.C. 143; Howker [2003]
DPP v T [2007] 1 W.L.R. 209 DC; Lindum Construction Co Ltd v Office of Fair
Trading [2014] EWHC 1613 (Ch); Lalli v Commissioner of Police of the
Metropolis [2015] EWHC 14 (Admin).
16 Compare Palacegate Properties Ltd v Camden LBC [2001] A.C.D 23 DC;
with Dilieto v Ealing LBC [2000] Q.B. 381 DC.
17 DPP v T [2007] 1 W.L.R. 209 DC; Stannard v Crown Prosecution Service
[2019] 1 W.L.R. 3229 DC; R. v Kirby [2019] 4 W.L.R. 131 CA (Crim Division).
18 See Ch.27.
20 Subject to the point about the interpretation of a particular statute made above.
25 Waterloo Bridge Co v Cull (1858) 1 El. & El. 213; affirmed (1859) 1 El. & El.
245.
26 Scadding v Lorant (1851) 3 H.L.C. 418.
Div).
29 Baldock [2006] Q.B. 315 at [15]. This is in accord with the preponderance of
earlier authority. In Crew (1627) Cro. Car. 97 the commissioners’ acts seemed
only to be valid until they received notice of the death of James I. In R. v
Bedford Level Corp (1805) 6 East 356 the officer in question was a deputy
whose principal had died. It was held that once the principal dies and this
becomes known the de facto authority of the deputy ceases. In Adams v Adams
[1971] P. 188 the court rejected the argument that a Rhodesian judge held office
de facto if not de jure, one reason being that the illegality of the Rhodesian
regime was widely known. The court in Aldridge (1893) 15 N.Z.L.R. 361 was
more divided on this question.
30 Coppard [2003] Q.B. 1428 at [18]; Fawdry & Co v Murfitt [2003] Q.B. 104
CA (Civ Div).
31 H.W.R. Wade, “Unlawful Administrative Action: Void or Voidable?” (1967)
37 Hoffmann-La Roche [1975] A.C. 295 at 366. See also Lord Wilberforce at
358.
38 Smith v East Elloe RDC [1956] A.C. 736 HL at 769, Lord Radcliffe.
the Rule of Law”, in Forsyth and Hare (eds), The Golden Metwand and the
Crooked Cord (1998), p.159.
45 Forsyth, “‘The Metaphysic of Nullity’: Invalidity, Conceptual Reasoning and
the Rule of Law”, in Forsyth and Hare (eds), The Golden Metwand and the
Crooked Cord (1998), pp.146−150.
46 Boddington [1999] 2 A.C. 143 at 164, 165; R. (Shrewsbury and Atcham BC) v
Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government [2008] EWCA Civ
148.
47 Percy v Hall [1997] Q.B. 924 CA (Civ Div) at 950−952; R. v Central London
CC, Ex p. London [1999] Q.B. 1260 CA (Civ Div); Tchenguiz v Director of the
Serious Fraud Office [2014] EWCA Civ 472; Secretary of State for the Home
Department v Draga [2012] EWCA Civ 842; White v Governor HMP
Pentonville [2015] EWHC 1886 (Admin).
48 R. (TN (Vietnam)) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2018]
EWCA Civ 2838; Secretary of State for the Home Department v SM (Rwanda)
[2018] EWCA Civ 2770.
49 R. (Detention Action) v FTT (Immigration and Asylum Chamber) [2015]
EWCA Civ 840.
50 R. v Governor of Brockhill Prison, Ex p. Evans (No.2) [2001] 2 A.C. 19 HL.
113, 114.
59 Evans (No.2) [2001] 2 A.C. 19 at 47.
67 There are analogies here with the condition-warranty distinction in the law of
69 See para.24–013.
70 For examples of cases where the courts have exercised discretion to refuse
[1988] P.L. 78; Sir Harry Woolf, Protection of the Public—A New Challenge
(London: Sweet & Maxwell, 1990), pp.53−56; Lady Arden, “Prospective
Overruling” (2004) 115 L.Q.R. 7.
72 Evans (No.2) [2001] 2 A.C. 19 at 26−27, 35−37.
81 Burmah Oil Co Ltd v Lord Advocate [1965] A.C. 75 HL; and the subsequent
War Damage Act 1965.
82 Ridge [1964] A.C. 40 at 80 Lord Reid; at 125−126 Lord Morris of Borth-y-
Gest; at 135−136 Lord Hodson.
83 Spackman v Plumstead District Board of Works (1885) 10 App. Cas. 229 at
240.
84 Fisher v Keane (1878) 11 Ch. D. 353; Lapointe v L’Association de
Smethwick Local Board of Health (1890) 24 Q.B.D 712; Capel v Child (1832) 2
C. & J. 558; Innes v Wylie (1844) 1 Car. & K. 257; Bonaker v Evans (1850) 16
Q.B. 162; Wood v Woad (1874) L.R. 9 Ex. 190.
86 As in Capel (1832) 2 C. & J. 558; Innes (1844) 1 Car. & K. 257; Bonaker
(1850) 16 Q.B. 162 and Wood (1874) L.R. 9 Ex. 190.
87 Ridge [1964] A.C. 40 at 87−92.
92 Serjeant v Dale (1877) 2 Q.B.D 558 at 566, 568; Allinson v General Council
of Medical Education and Registration [1894] 1 Q.B. 750 at 757; R. v Furnished
Houses Rent Tribunal for Paddington and St Marylebone, Ex p. Kendal Hotels
Ltd [1947] 1 All E.R. 448 KBD at 449; R. v Paddington North and St
Marylebone Rent Tribunal, Ex p. Perry [1956] 1 Q.B. 229 DC at 237; Anisminic
Ltd v Foreign Compensation Commission [1969] 2 A.C. 147 HL at 171.
93 Cooper v Wilson [1937] 2 K.B. 309 CA (declaration); R. v Cheltenham
Commissioners (1841) 1 Q.B. 467; and R. v Hertfordshire JJ (1845) 6 Q.B. 753
(no certiorari clauses).
94 Rubinstein, Jurisdiction and Illegality (1965), p.203.
785−786. See also, Wildes v Russell (1865−66) L.R. 1 C.P. 722 at 741−742;
Phillips v Eyre (1870−71) L.R. 6 Q.B. 1 at 22.
96 H.W.R. Wade, “Unlawful Administrative Action: Void or Voidable?” (1968)
84 L.Q.R. 95 at 106−108.
97 Rubinstein, Jurisdiction and Illegality (1965), pp.5−6.
103 The sanctity of the ultra vires principle is compromised by the balancing
process inherent within the time limits for remedies, and in the rules concerning
delay, acquiescence and the effect of alternative remedies, see para.22–050. See
also, the discussion of representations, para.22–051.
104 Jeyeanthan [2000] 1 W.L.R. 354.
105 Akehurst [1968] 31 M.L.R. 138 at 149; and Wade (1968) 84 L.Q.R. 95 at 109
107 Minister of National Revenue v Wrights’ Canadian Ropes Ltd [1947] A.C.
109 at 122.
108 Point of Ayr Collieries Ltd v Lloyd-George [1943] 2 All E.R. 546 at 547;
Potato Marketing Board v Merricks [1958] 2 Q.B. 316 QBD; Wilover Nominees
Ltd v Inland Revenue Commissioners [1973] 1 W.L.R. 1393 Ch D at 1396, 1399;
affirmed [1974] 1 W.L.R. 1342 at 1347; Fawcett Properties Ltd v Buckingham
CC [1959] Ch. 543, CA at 575; affirmed [1961] A.C. 636.
109 R. v Inland Revenue Commissioners, Ex p. Rossminster Ltd [1980] A.C. 952
HL.
110 Rossminster [1980] A.C. 952 at 1013.
111 See cases Wrights’ Canadian Ropes [1947] A.C. 109; Point of Ayr Collieries
[1943] 2 All E.R. 546; Merricks [1958] 2 Q.B. 316; Wilover Nominees [1973] 1
W.L.R. 1393; Fawcett Properties [1959] Ch. 543.
112 Rossminster [1980] A.C. 952 at 1011; R. v Secretary of State for the Home
Department, Ex p. Khawaja [1984] A.C. 74 HL.
113 See also St Pancras BC v Frey [1963] 2 Q.B. 586 DC at 592; Harpin v St
Albans Corp (1969) 67 L.G.R. 479. But see, Bristol DC v Clark [1975] 1 W.L.R.
1443 at 1448 where doubt was cast upon these cases.
114 R. v Governor of Brixton Prison, Ex p. Ahsan [1969] 2 Q.B. 222 DC;
explaining Greene v Secretary of State for Home Affairs [1942] A.C. 284 HL.
115 Ahsan [1969] 2 Q.B. 222. See also, Eshugbayi Eleko v Government of
Nigeria [1931] A.C. 662.
116 R. v Governor of Risley Remand Centre, Ex p. Hassan [1976] 1 W.L.R. 971
DC at 976−979.
117 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Khawaja [1984] A.C.
74, HL at 111−112; R. (Abbasi) v Secretary of State for Foreign and
Commonwealth Affairs [2002] EWCA Civ 1598 at [60]; Duggal v Secretary of
State for the Home Dept [2011] EWHC 736 (Admin); R. (Antonio) v Secretary
of State for the Home Department [2014] EWHC 3894 (Admin).
118 See Ch.17.
370−372.
121 Hoffmann-La Roche [1975] A.C. 295 at 354−360.
122 Wicks [1998] A.C. 92 at 116. This view was supported by Lord Steyn in
126 Hoffmann-La Roche [1975] A.C. 295 at 367; Rochdale BC v Anders [1988] 3
All E.R. 490.
127 Financial Services Authority v Sinaloa Gold [2013] UKSC 11; [2013] 2 A.C.
28; Pensions Regulator v Dalriada Trustees [2013] EWHC 4346 (Ch); Revenue
and Customs Commissioners v Rhino TV and Media Ltd [2020] EWHC 364
(Ch).
128 R. v Secretary of State for Transport, Ex p. Factortame Ltd (No.2) [1991] 1
130 Potato Marketing Board v Merricks [1958] 2 Q.B. 316 QBD; Kingsway
Investments (Kent) Ltd v Kent CC [1971] A.C. 72 HL; Dunkley v Evans [1981] 1
W.L.R. 1522 QBD; Thames Water Authority v Elmbridge BC [1983] Q.B. 570
CA (Civ Div); R. v Secretary of State for Transport, Ex p. GLC [1986] Q.B. 556
QBD; R. v North Hertfordshire DC, Ex p. Cobbold [1985] 3 All E.R. 486.
131 DPP v Hutchinson [1990] 2 A.C. 783; A. Bradley, “Judicial Enforcement of
Ultra Vires Byelaws: The Proper Scope of Severance” [1990] P.L. 293; R.
(Public and Commercial Services Union) v Minister for the Civil Service [2010]
EWHC 1463 (Admin); R. (Hemming (trading as Simple Pleasures Ltd)) v
Westminster City Council [2018] A.C. 676, SC at [9].
132 R. (National Association of Health Stores) v Secretary of State for Health
134 National Association of Health Stores [2005] EWCA Civ 154 at [20].
CHAPTER 25
REMEDIES: STANDING
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
25–001 i. Locus standi is concerned with whether a particular claimant is
entitled to invoke the jurisdiction of the court. This must be
distinguished from justiciability, which asks whether the judicial
process is suitable for the resolution of this type of dispute,
whoever brings it to court. It is also distinct from the issue known
in the USA as ripeness,1 under which premature questions are not
adjudicated upon. There is case law on both justiciability and
ripeness in the UK,2 although the concepts are not as developed
as in the USA.
ii. The law will be examined both prior to and consequent upon the
reforms of administrative law remedies.3 A brief historical
perspective is necessary for a proper understanding of the present
law. It will be seen that prior to 1978 different tests of standing
applied as between the prerogative orders on the one hand and
declaration and injunction on the other. There was, moreover,
variation in the tests that applied to different prerogative orders
and uncertainty as to the precise test that applied to particular
remedies.
iii. Reform was therefore required. A test of sufficiency of interest
was introduced as part of the remedial reforms in 1978. The
reform liberalised the test for standing, but still left questions to
be resolved in subsequent cases concerning the meaning of
sufficient interest, more especially when the claimant was an
interest group rather than an individual.
iv. The discussion of standing would be incomplete if it did not
include analysis of the rich literature as to what the standing rules
ought to be. This will be examined after the law on sufficiency of
interest has been clarified. The issue of who should be able to
invoke the judicial process has been much debated,4 and the
policy arguments will be considered below.5 We
shall see that assumptions concerning the nature of administrative law, and the role of the
courts, are inherent in any response.
A. Certiorari
25–003 There were at least two views as to standing requirements for
certiorari. The first was that certiorari had no standing limits as such.
Any person could apply for an order, and standing would only be
relevant to the granting of the remedy. If the application was made by
a person aggrieved, then the court would intervene ex debito justitiae,
in justice to the applicant. Where the applicant was a stranger, the
court considered whether the public interest demanded intervention.7
A second view was that an applicant must show some interest before
being accorded standing.8 The weight of authority favoured the former
view.9 The degree of practical difference between them should not,
however, be overemphasised. If a court did not wish to grant an
applicant standing, it could reach that conclusion either by adopting
the first view, but refusing in its discretion to admit the applicant, or
by adopting the second view and deeming the person not to be an
interested party.
B. Prohibition
25–004 The case law on standing to seek prohibition makes that on certiorari
seem simple.10 There was, however, one clear line of authority. The
cases held that prohibition must be granted to any applicant, because
an excess of jurisdiction by an inferior court was contempt against the
Crown, in the sense of being an infringement of the royal
prerogative.11 The applicant therefore approached the court to
represent the public interest. This reasoning was indicative of a citizen
action12 approach towards standing. There were, however, also cases
that adopted a private rights perspective. Thus, some authorities
appeared to require a specific interest in the applicant,13 while others
sought to side-step the reasoning in the first line of authority by
arguing that it applied only to patent and not to latent jurisdictional
defects.14
C. Mandamus
25–005 The diversity of approach towards standing is clearly evident in the
confused case law on mandamus. One line of cases required the
applicant to show infringement of a legal right in the traditional private
law sense, such that a cause of action in contract or tort could be
maintained against the public body.15 Other cases used the
terminology of private right, but gave the term “right” a broader
meaning by granting standing even where no contractual or tortious
right had been affected.16 Another line of authority explicitly regarded
a sufficient or special interest as satisfying the requirements for
standing.17
25–008 The rules of standing that operate in certain areas are distinct. These
will be examined before considering the general rules on standing that
operate in ordinary judicial review actions.
A. Attorney General
25–009 The Attorney General as the legal representative of the Crown
represents the interests of the Crown qua Sovereign, and also qua
parens patriae. This jurisdiction was initially invoked in relation to
public nuisance and the administration of charitable and public trusts.
The initial impetus seemed to stem from private law proprietary
interests, the Crown possessing a jus publicum for the use of highways
and rivers, coupled with the desire to prevent multiplicity of litigation.
The Attorney General may act on his own initiative, as guardian of the
public interest, to restrain public nuisances and prevent excess of
power by public bodies.32
Particular problems arise where the Attorney General seeks to
buttress the criminal law. In Attorney General v Smith33 an injunction
was granted to prevent S from making repeated applications for
planning permission for a caravan site, despite the presence of
penalties in the relevant legislation. In Attorney General v Harris34 a
flower vendor who contravened police regulations many times was
prevented from continuing to do so by an injunction. Their Lordships
in Gouriet35 felt that this power should be used sparingly, and should
be reserved for cases where there were continued breaches of the law,
or serious injury was threatened.
It is not entirely clear whether the Attorney General seeking an
injunction is in an especially privileged position. The law appears to be
as follows. The Attorney General has discretion to decide whether to
bring an action.36 If an action is brought and the breach proven the
court is not bound to issue an injunction in the Attorney General’s
favour, but exceptional circumstances would have to exist before the
claim was refused. It will be regarded as a wrong in itself for the law
to be flouted.37
The Attorney General may proceed at the relation of an individual
complainant where she does not possess the requisite interest to bring
a case in her own name. The consent of the Attorney General is
necessary, the procedure being known as a relator action. We have
already seen that the failure to secure this consent cannot be
circumvented.38 In a relator action the Attorney General is the
plaintiff, but in practice the private litigant will instruct counsel, and
will remain liable for costs.
B. Public Authorities
25–010 The courts in the past restrictively construed the locus standi of public
authorities. The public authority was required to show an interference
with proprietary rights, special damage or that it was the beneficiary of
a statutory duty, in order that the action could be maintained without
the Attorney General. Thus, in Tozer39 the corporation failed to obtain
an injunction when complaining that the defendant’s building
constituted the laying out of a new street in contravention of the
byelaws. No proprietary interest of the plaintiff was affected and the
courts deprecated the bringing of such actions in the absence of the
Attorney General.
Even where standing seemed to be accorded by a specific statute the
courts tended to construe such provisions restrictively,40 as they have
done with more general statutory terms.41
The legislature responded to the restrictive judicial approach
through the enactment of s.222 of the Local Government Act 1972.
This allows a local authority to maintain an action in its own name
where the authority considers it expedient for the promotion and
protection of the interests of the inhabitants of its area. It enables the
local authority to sue without joining the Attorney General, and has
been liberally interpreted,42 although the court will be mindful of the
interrelationship between the power given under s.222 and other
statutory schemes.43
C. Statutory Appeals
25–011 The question of standing can also arise where a statute allows a
“person aggrieved” to challenge a decision. The case law has
similarities with that discussed above. Thus, one line of cases adopted
a restrictive meaning of the term person aggrieved, requiring the
infringement of a private right or something closely akin thereto. The
modern case law has, however, embraced a more liberal philosophy.
A leading example of the more restrictive line is Sidebotham.44 S
had been declared bankrupt. It was alleged that the trustee in
bankruptcy had not been performing his duties properly, an allegation
verified by the Comptroller in Bankruptcy, who recommended that the
trustee make good certain losses. The latter did not do so and was
taken to the county court, which made no order compelling the trustee
to make good the deficiency. The Comptroller did not appeal this
decision, but S attempted to do so as a person aggrieved. He was
unsuccessful, the court interpreting a person aggrieved to require
something more than one who was disappointed in a benefit which he
might have received. There had to be a legal grievance, a wrongful
deprivation of something to which the appellant was entitled. It
became the leading decision and was often applied,45 even though it
could have been distinguished.46
The restrictive approach was challenged by Lord Denning.47 The
Sidebotham-Buxton interpretation was held to be too narrow. While
busybodies should, of course, be excluded, any person with a genuine
grievance whose interests were affected should be admitted. The
House of Lords applied the more liberal philosophy in Ende.48 Their
Lordships held that a ratepayer living in the same borough, or even in
the same precepting area, could qualify as a person aggrieved and
challenge the assessment of another’s rates as too low. The applicant
did not have to show financial detriment, and the infringement of a
legal right was not necessary to maintain a claim.49
25–012 The law was further clarified by Cook.50Woolf LJ reviewed the
authorities in this area. He recognised that some of the earlier
decisions had taken a restrictive view of the term “person aggrieved”,
but pointed to the liberal approach adopted in later jurisprudence, and
held that some of the foundational cases supporting the restrictive view
should no longer be treated as good law.51 Henceforth, the principles
set out below should apply when the phrase “person aggrieved”
appeared in any statute concerning appeal rights, subject to a clear
contrary intent in the particular statute. The principles are as follows.52
First, a body corporate, including a local authority, was just as
capable as being a person aggrieved as an individual. Secondly, any
person who had a decision made against him, particularly in
adversarial proceedings, would be a person aggrieved for the purposes
of appealing against that decision, unless the decision amounted to an
acquittal of a purely criminal case. Thirdly, the fact that the decision
against which the person wished to appeal reversed a decision which
was originally taken by that person, and did not otherwise adversely
affect him, did not prevent that person being a person aggrieved. To
the contrary, it indicated that he was a person aggrieved who could use
his appeal rights to have the original decision restored.
The court will nonetheless construe the term “person aggrieved” in
its statutory context. Thus, the term will, for example, be interpreted so
as to fit with the needs of the planning system,53 and the competition
regime.54 This approach was reaffirmed in Walton,55 where it was held
that the term “person aggrieved” should be interpreted in the light of
the relevant legislation; that a broad interpretation was warranted in
relation to legislation dealing with the environment, which was of
legitimate concern to everyone; and that a person would ordinarily be
regarded as aggrieved if they made objections or
representations as part of the procedure that preceded the decision
challenged, and if their complaint was that the decision was not
properly made.
A. Introduction
25–013 To describe the common law as unnecessarily confused would be to
pay it a compliment. While the general trend was towards
liberalisation of standing, particularly in the context of the prerogative
orders, the stricter test for injunctions and declarations remained.
There were, moreover, differing tests even within the prerogative
remedies.
The Law Commission disapproved of the restrictive formulations
of the legal right test, and of the different requirements that governed
each remedy. It recommended that any person adversely affected by a
decision should have locus standi.56 In its subsequent report the Law
Commission adopted the general flexible approach favoured by the
earlier Working Paper and proposed that a person should have
standing when there was a sufficient interest in the matter to which the
application relates. This was felt to represent the existing position with
regard to the prerogative orders. The law relating to declarations and
injunctions was to be liberalised by the application of the sufficiency
of interest test.57
The test proposed by the Law Commission was adopted in Ord.53
r.3(7). This has now been incorporated in what was previously the
Supreme Court Act 1981, now renamed the Senior Courts Act 198158
(the 1981 Act) s.31(3), which states:
“No application for judicial review shall be made unless the leave of the High Court has been
obtained in accordance with rules of court; and the court shall not grant leave to make such
an application unless it considers that the applicant has a sufficient interest in the matter to
which the application relates.”
i. Distinguishing Gouriet
25–015 In the lower courts the IRC relied on Gouriet, arguing that the
National Federation lacked standing to apply for a declaration because
it had no legal right that had been affected. The Gouriet61 decision was
treated as referring only to locus standi for declaration and injunction
in their private law roles, and as having nothing to say about the
standing for those remedies in public law. Order 53 r.1(2)62 was
interpreted to allow an applicant to claim a declaration or injunction
instead of a prerogative order, but only where a prerogative order
would have been available. If an applicant would have had standing to
seek a prerogative order then a declaration or injunction could be
granted instead, even though the traditional standing requirements for
declaration or injunction would not have been met.
To regard Gouriet as concerned only with standing in private law
is to allow form to blind one to substance. The parties in Gouriet might
appear “private”: a trade union and a private citizen. The real argument
in that case was, however, as to whether a private citizen should be
able to vindicate the public interest without joining the Attorney
General. This was how the case was argued, and this was how their
Lordships responded to the argument.
Gouriet and the IRC case reflect different philosophies. The former
conceived the private citizen as having no role in enforcing the public
interest, and thus preserved the dichotomy in the standing criteria for
the prerogative orders and declaration and injunction. This ignored the
fact that the private citizen was to some extent vindicating the public
interest when seeking prerogative relief. The IRC case eschewed the
historical distinction between the remedies, and took as its touchstone
the more liberal rules for prerogative relief, to which standing for
declaration and injunction were then assimilated.
25–016 The IRC case is complex because two matters were interwoven in the
judgments: whether there should be a uniform test for the prerogative
orders and whether there should be a uniform test for all the remedies.
Lord Diplock answered both
questions affirmatively.63 The other judgments were less clear. Lord
Fraser felt that the differences between the prerogative orders had been
eradicated, but that not all the older law had been overthrown.64 Lord
Scarman held that there should be no difference in standing between
the prerogative orders, and that the same test should apply when a
declaration or injunction was sought in a public law context.65 Lord
Roskill was clear that many of the old technical distinctions between
the remedies, particularly the prerogative orders, should be swept
away. The inference was that there should be a uniform test for all the
remedies, but this was never made absolutely clear.66 Lord
Wilberforce was, by way of contrast, of the opinion that there should
be a distinction even between the prerogative orders, with certiorari
being subject to a less strict test than mandamus.67
The general thrust of the IRC case was, nonetheless, that standing
should be developed to meet new problems, and that there should not
be an endless discussion of previous authority. This furthered the
tendency towards a unified conception of standing based upon
sufficiency of interest,68 notwithstanding the ambiguities in the
judgments. Arguments that the test for standing should differ between
the remedies have been generally absent from subsequent case law. It
should, however, be recognised that even when the courts adopt a
uniform test this does not mean that individual judges share the same
view as to what should count as a sufficient interest. This is evident
from the IRC case itself.69
25–017 We noted earlier that in private law the merits and standing were not
generally regarded as distinct: who could sue was answered by the
definition of the cause of action. In public law, by way of contrast,
standing was one matter, the merits another. This has to be revised to
some extent in the light of the IRC case.
Their Lordships agreed that standing and the merits could often not
be separated in this way. It might be possible to do so in relatively
straightforward cases, but for more complex cases it would be
necessary to consider the whole legal and factual context to determine
whether an applicant possessed a sufficient interest. The term merits
here meant that the court would look to the substance of the allegation
to determine whether the applicant had standing. This included the
nature of the relevant power or duty, the alleged breach, and the
subject-matter of the claim. The term fusion will be used to refer to the
process whereby the court considers these factors to determine
whether the applicant has standing.
To appreciate how this operates it is necessary to understand that
the Senior Courts Act 1981 s.31(3) requires the court to consider
sufficiency of interest at the leave stage. This would, prior to the CPR
reforms, often be ex parte, and thus
the court might only have evidence from one side. A court might feel
at this stage that the applicant demonstrated a sufficient interest. The
second stage is the hearing of the application, at which point the court
considered evidence from both parties. At this stage the court might
take the view that, on consideration of fuller evidence, the applicant
did not possess the interest claimed. This conclusion would be reached
from appraisal of the nature of the duty on the public body, the nature
of the breach, and the position of the applicant. Thus, in the IRC case
the only evidence at the ex parte stage was from the National
Federation. By the time of the hearing the IRC had prepared affidavits
giving its view of the case. This caused the House of Lords to dismiss
the case.
The reasoning of their Lordships was, however, subtly different.
Some70 relied most heavily on the statutory framework and
background to reach the conclusion that the applicant possessed no
sufficient interest. A qualification was added that such a person or
group might possess sufficient interest if the illegality were to be
sufficiently grave. Other Law Lords, while referring to the statutory
context, placed more emphasis on the absence of illegality. If at the
hearing of the application the applicant had established the allegations
made at the leave stage then the case would have proceeded.71
iv. Summary
25–018 The general message from the IRC case was that there would be a
unified test of standing based upon sufficiency of interest, shorn of
archaic limitations, which would probably operate in the same way
irrespective of the particular remedy sought. In this sense the test for
standing is uniform.
The relationship between standing at the leave stage and at the
substantive hearing was summarised by Lord Donaldson MR in
Argyll72 as follows. At the leave stage an application should be refused
only where the applicant has no interest whatsoever, and is a mere
meddlesome busybody. Where, however, the application appears to be
arguable and there is no other discretionary bar such as dilatoriness,
the applicant should be given leave and standing can then be
reconsidered as a matter of discretion at the substantive hearing. At
this stage the strength of the applicant’s interest will be one of the
factors to be weighed in the balance. Sedley J in Dixon73 emphasised
that the criterion at the leave stage is set merely to prevent an applicant
from intervening where there was no legitimate interest. This did not,
however, mean that the applicant must show some pecuniary or special
personal interest.
The fusion technique means that standing may vary from area to
area. It will depend upon the strength of the applicant’s interest, the
nature of the statutory power or duty in issue, the subject-matter of the
claim and the type of illegality asserted.
The application of these criteria may be unclear or uncertain.
Where this is so, the determination of standing will depend upon
certain more general judicial assumptions as to the role that individuals
should play in public law. This is readily apparent from the IRC case.
Thus, Lord Diplock approached the process of statutory construction
with the explicit assumption that it would be a grave lacuna in our law
if an interest group, or a private citizen, could not “vindicate the rule
of law and get the unlawful action stopped”.74 This is close to a citizen
action view of standing. This assumption was not shared by all of their
Lordships, and differences of this kind can affect the interpretive
process.
25–020 There are a number of cases in which the courts have treated the IRC
decision as a liberalisation of the pre-existing standing rules.75
Attempts to argue that an applicant must possess something akin to a
narrow legal right before being accorded standing have not been
successful. This more liberal approach has also been endorsed extra-
judicially.76 There has however been a cautionary note to the effect
that where it is apparent that there are claimants with standing to bring
a claim and address the relevant issues, the court will examine more
critically the claims of other claimants to have standing.77
The cases discussed in this section do not however show
attachment to the fusion technique. In reaching the decision to accord
the applicant standing the courts did not undertake any detailed
analysis of the nature of the relevant statutory powers, apart from
adverting to the seriousness of the alleged illegality.
Thus in Smedley a taxpayer who raised a serious question
concerning the legality of governmental action in connection with the
EC was accorded
standing.78 In Leigh a journalist as a “guardian of the public interest”
in open justice was held to have a sufficient interest to obtain a
declaration that justices could not refuse to reveal their identity.79 In
Percival the head of a set of chambers was accorded standing to
contest a decision by the Bar Council that another barrister should be
charged with a more serious, rather than a less serious, charge.80 In
Williams it was held that a wide range of people could legitimately
claim to have an interest in the implementation of a local authority’s
library policy, and the range extended beyond those who lived, worked
or paid taxes in the local authority’s area.81 In Hutchinson the court
accepted that health care professionals had standing to challenge the
legality of a significant shift in the way in which such care was
provided.82
In Dixon83 the applicant, who was a local resident, a local
councillor and a member of various bodies concerned to protect the
environment, challenged the grant of planning permission to extend
quarrying in a particular area. Sedley J held that standing at the leave
stage should only be refused if it was clear that the applicant was a
busybody with no legitimate interest in the matter. The applicant in the
instant case was not a busybody, and he was perfectly entitled as a
citizen to draw the attention of the court to what he considered to be an
illegality in the grant of planning permission which would have an
impact on the natural environment.
25–023 Cane92 has argued persuasively that there are three kinds of group
challenge: associational, surrogate and public interest. The line
between these categories can be contestable, but the taxonomy is
helpful nonetheless.
Associational standing is typified by an organisation suing on
behalf of its members. Standing has been accorded in such
circumstances where the group
consists of persons who are directly affected by the disputed
decision.93 There can equally be cases where one member of a group
brings the action on behalf of the group as a whole.94
Surrogate standing covers the case where a pressure group
represents the interests of others, who may not be well placed to bring
the action. The courts allowed challenges by the Child Poverty Action
Group (CPAG) to decisions concerning social security that affected
claimants. Woolf J reasoned that the CPAG was a body designed to
represent the interests of unidentified claimants, who could be
deprived of benefits by the secretary of state and that it had a sufficient
interest to argue the case.95 The court also construed the Highgate
Projects, a charitable body providing hostel accommodation to young
offenders, as being a “person affected” within the meaning of
regulations concerning housing benefit. The young people could have
acted for themselves, and were therefore competent to authorise the
Project to act as their agent in review proceedings.96
Public interest standing is asserted by those claiming to represent
the wider public interest, rather than merely that of a group with an
identifiable membership. In this type of case the decision may affect
the public generally, or a section thereof, but no one particular
individual has any more immediate interest than any other, and a group
seeks to contest the matter before the courts. Some such claims have
failed, but a number have succeeded.
25–024 A well-known claim that failed was the Rose Theatre case.97
Developers, who had planning permission for an office block,
discovered the remains of an important Elizabethan theatre. A number
of people formed a company to preserve the remains. They sought to
persuade the secretary of state to include the site in the list of
monuments under the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Areas
Act 1979. The secretary of state could do so if the site appeared to him
to be of national importance. If the site was thus designated no work
could be done without his consent. Although the secretary of state
agreed that the site was of national importance he declined to include it
within the relevant legislation. Schiemann J found that there had been
no illegality, but also held that the applicants had no locus standi. He
accepted that a direct financial or legal interest was not necessary for
an applicant to have standing, and that it was necessary to consider the
statute to determine whether it afforded standing to these individuals in
this instance. However, he also approached the matter with the view
that not
every person will always have sufficient interest to bring a case; that
the assertion of an interest by many people did not mean that they
actually possessed one; and that there might be certain types of
governmental action which no one could challenge. In the instant case
he held that no individual could point to anything in the statute which
would give her a greater right or interest than any other that the
decision would be taken lawfully. Schiemann J concluded that while in
a broad sense we could all expect that decisions be made lawfully that
was insufficient to give the applicants standing.98
In other cases public interest challenges have been successful. In
the Equal Opportunities Commission case,99 the EOC sought locus
standi to argue that certain rules concerning entitlement to redundancy
pay and protection from unfair dismissal were discriminatory and in
breach of EC law. The EOC’s duties included elimination of
discrimination, and promotion of gender equality.100 The House of
Lords held that the EOC had standing. Lord Keith, giving the majority
judgment, reasoned that if the contested provisions were
discriminatory then steps taken by the EOC to change them could
reasonably be regarded as working towards the elimination of
discrimination. It would, said his Lordship,101 be a retrograde step to
hold that the EOC did not have standing to “agitate in judicial review
proceedings questions related to sex discrimination which are of public
importance and affect a large section of the population”.
In Greenpeace102 the applicant group challenged the regulation of
the Sellafield nuclear site. Otton J made it clear that interest groups
would not automatically be afforded standing merely because the
members were concerned about a particular matter, but found that the
group had standing, and declined to follow the Rose Theatre decision.
He reached his conclusion by taking a number of factors into account,
including: the fact that Greenpeace was a respected international
organisation; that a number of its members lived in the Cumbria
region; that the issues were serious and complex; that Greenpeace was
well-placed to argue them; and that if it did not have standing there
might not be any effective way to bring the matter before the court.
25–025 A liberal attitude towards public interest challenges is also apparent in
the World Development Movement case.103 The WDM challenged the
minister’s decision to grant aid to fund the construction of the Pergau
dam in Malaysia, because it was outside the relevant statutory powers.
The court accorded the group standing,
taking into account the fact that no other challenger was likely to come
forward, and the importance of vindicating the rule of law by ensuring
that the minister remained within his statutory powers.104
The liberal approach was affirmed in Walton,105 which concerned
a challenge to a road scheme. Lord Reed, following the reasoning in
Axa General Insurance,106 opined that standing was to vindicate the
rule of law, as well as individual grievance against the state. In many
contexts it would be necessary for a person to demonstrate some
particular interest to demonstrate that he was not a mere busybody,107
and not every member of the public could complain of every potential
breach of duty by a public body:
“But there may also be cases in which any individual, simply as a citizen, will have sufficient
interest to bring a public authority’s violation of the law to the attention of the court, without
having to demonstrate any greater impact upon himself than upon other members of the
public. The rule of law would not be maintained if, because everyone was equally affected
by an unlawful act, no-one was able to bring proceedings to challenge it.”108
25–027 Two more general points are apparent from the courts’ jurisprudence,
and these should be borne in mind when reading the cases in this area.
First, it is clear that the fusion approach has been used by the
courts to varying degrees, and that the process of statutory
construction demanded by the IRC methodology can lead to
differences of opinion from members of the same court. This is
exemplified by the EOC case in the Court of Appeal, where three
differing views emerged from the process of statutory construction as
to whether the applicant body should have standing.116
Secondly, the process of statutory construction demanded by the
IRC case will often turn on views concerning the purpose of standing.
The very process of statutory construction, looking to the nature of the
duties and the subject-matter of the claim, is not self-executing, as
exemplified by the differences in the EOC case.
25–028 The judgment in Rose Theatre117 was premised on the assumption that
a citizen action view of standing was not to be accepted, in that area at
least. The idea underpinning the citizen action, that citizens should be
able to vindicate the public interest without showing individual harm
over and above that of the general community, particularly where such
harm would be difficult to substantiate, was rejected.
The EOC case provides a good contrast.118 The differences of view
as to the standing of the EOC as between the Court of Appeal and the
House of Lords are not explicable solely because of differences as to
statutory interpretation. It is clear that Lord Keith disagreed with the
majority in the Court of Appeal in part because he took a different
view as to the role that the EOC should have in the
regime of sex discrimination. His Lordship approached the statutory
interpretation with the view that the EOC should be able to raise
questions concerning discrimination, which were of public importance
and affected large sections of the population.
C. Citizen Action
i. Arguments in Favour
25–038 A citizen action or actio popularis is based on the premise that the
main aim of public law is to keep public bodies within their powers.
The presumption is that citizens generally should be enabled to
vindicate the public interest, without showing individual harm over
and above that of the general community. The arguments in favour of
such an approach are as follows.159 The first was put succinctly by
Lord Diplock in the IRC case160:
“It would, in my view, be a grave lacuna in our system of public law if a pressure group, like
the federation, or even a single public-spirited taxpayer, were prevented by outdated
technical rules of locus standi from bringing the matter to the attention of the court to
vindicate the rule of law and get the unlawful action stopped.”
25–039 The most oft-repeated practical objection is that it would open the
courthouse doors to vexatious litigants and busybodies. Scott has
provided the most succinct response to this criticism: “The idle and
whimsical plaintiff, a dilettante who litigates for a lark, is a spectre
which haunts the legal literature, not the courtroom”.163
A second practical objection is that an applicant who has no
personal interest will not be the most effective advocate. This is a non
sequitur. No one has demonstrated a correlation between the degree of
interest that an applicant has and the effectiveness of the advocacy.
The public spirited citizen who challenges
governmental action, with no personal stake in the outcome, may well
be a more effective litigant because the person will normally feel
strongly before bringing a claim.
A final practical objection is that the greater number of suits would
distract government from its primary task by taking up its time in
defending legal actions and, moreover, would take up scarce court
resources.164 This argument is contestable. The primary task of those
who govern is to do just that, but they should govern according to the
law. The key issue is, therefore, who should be able to bring potential
illegality before the court. It is not clear why an action that affects the
public at large, in which no individual is necessarily affected more
than any other, is a less deserving distraction from the primary task of
governing, or a less deserving use of court time, than an action in
which the applicant has some more particularised interest. This is
particularly so given that the subject-matter in the former case may
well be more important than in the latter.
25–040 Vining165 posits a situation in which the courts have discarded the
legal rights test and put nothing in its place, and asks whether that
would be possible, answering that it would not. He argues that people
possess a number of different identities such as father, businessman,
sports player, etc. When a person comes to the court he comes not as a
“natural person”, but in one of the more particularised guises set out
above.
The problem with this argument is that the conclusion follows
inevitably from the premise, but it is the premise which is in issue. If
the courts continue to require some harm personalised to the applicant
then the applicant will fail if he does not fall into the category, such as
fathers, which the courts regard as harmed by the activity impugned.
However, nothing in the argument demonstrates that the courts have to
require such harm. It would be possible for a court, faced with the
above example, to say that whether the applicant is or is not a father is
not conclusive, and that he possesses a citizen’s interest in preventing
the challenged regulations from being promulgated. The only identity
that the court would be concerned with would be the applicant’s
position as a citizen. The possibility of citizen actions cannot be
rejected on the basis that they would be inconsistent with the way in
which courts “see” people who come before them.
iv. Conceptual objections: inconsistent with judicial role
25–044 The most important qualification to the citizen action has been voiced
by one of its main proponents. Jaffe advocated broad rules of standing
to allow the “private attorney-general” or “non-Hohfeldian plaintiff” to
vindicate the public interest.172 However, Jaffe favoured a two-part
test for standing in which those with some interest would have
standing as of right, whereas the standing of the citizen applicant
would be at the discretion of the court. The rationale for this divide is
that there may well be cases in which the interests the law chooses to
protect are content with the situation. If this is so a stranger should not
be allowed to raise a possible invalidity. Any test of standing should
therefore include a concept of the zone of interests the legislation is
intended to protect, since this places control of the situation in the
hands of those most immediately concerned. Where those possessing a
defined legal interest do not adequately represent all interests protected
by the legislation and if there are no other devices for public control,
or if those devices are unresponsive to unrepresented interests, then the
court in its discretion can take jurisdiction at the instance of a private
attorney general.
The essence of his argument is that invalidity is relative and that
those who come within the “protected ambit” will differ depending
upon the nature of the legislation involved. Thus, there are many cases
where, if those affected do not complain, others should not be able to
do so. The key issue is whether in a case such as Ridge v Baldwin173 if
the person affected had decided not to challenge his dismissal anyone
else should have been able to do so. The answer will be a value
judgment. The most extreme view would be to say that any citizen has
an interest in any government wrong-doing and therefore should have
standing. Many would, however, believe that this is wrong. If the
Chief Constable does not wish to challenge the decision that is his
affair and his life should not be upset by someone else doing so.
Jaffe is surely correct in principle. The citizen action is premised
upon the sound reasoning that just because a very large number of
people are equally affected this does not mean that no one should have
standing if the subject-matter of the dispute is otherwise capable of
judicial resolution. This does not logically mean that any person must
always be accorded standing.174 There will be “Ridge type” cases
where none but the person or persons concerned will be granted locus
standi. If they choose not to complain, so be it.
D. Injury in Fact
25–045 Davis favoured a test based purely upon injury in fact.175 He argued
against the other part of the test established by the US Supreme Court,
the zone of interests test, saying that it was unworkable, conceptually
unsound, and historically unnecessary. Davis is undoubtedly correct in
pointing out the dangers in attempting to define legislative intent, but
his insistence that injury in fact can provide the sole requirement for
standing is questionable.
For Davis, such injury is both a necessary and a sufficient test of
standing. The effect of regarding such injury as a necessary test for
locus standi is the outright rejection of the citizen action in so far as
that allows a citizen who can demonstrate no such injury, apart from a
citizen’s concern for legality, to impugn governmental action. This,
however, leads to fortuitous distinctions being made. Thus, cases in
which there is ephemeral and indirect individual injury are approved,
while actions brought by public interest groups are disapproved.
Treating injury in fact as a sufficient requirement for standing is
also open to the objection that such injury is not, in many instances,
self-defining. What constitutes injury is itself a normative value
judgment, not simply an empirical observation. This value judgment
cannot be made in a vacuum and must be decided against the relevant
legislative background. The essence of the zone of interests test,
rejected by the front door, reappears in a veiled form by the side
entrance.
A. Standing
25–046 The optimal solution would be an approach akin to that propounded by
Jaffe. This involves acceptance of citizen actions, particularly in those
areas where a large number of people are equally affected by
governmental irregularity, but where no particular person is singled
out. To deny access in such cases seems indefensible. If the subject-
matter is otherwise appropriate for judicial resolution, and the
application is timely, to deny standing would be to render important
areas of governmental activity immune from censure for no better
reason than that they affect a large number of people. Common sense
would indicate the opposite conclusion, that the wide range of people
affected was a reason to allow challenge by someone.176 Judicial
support for this approach can be found in Sedley J’s judgment in the
Dixon case,177 and more recently by Lord Reed and Lord Carnwath in
Walton.178
25–047 Public law is concerned with abuse of power, even where there are no
private rights at stake. A person or organisation with no personal stake
in the outcome
may wish to call the court’s attention to such an abuse of power, and
there are a number of areas where any individual, simply as a citizen,
has a sufficient interest to bring the matter before the court.179 This
does not, as seen above, mean that any person should be allowed to
raise any issue of invalidity. There will be “Ridge type cases”, where if
the person directly affected does not challenge the act then no one
should be able to do so.
A citizen should therefore be entitled at the discretion of the court
to bring an action alleging invalid public activity, except where it can
be shown from a consideration of the statutory framework that the
range of persons with standing was intended to be narrower than this.
In this latter instance standing should be as of right and limited to the
protected class. This should be subject to the qualification that there
might be cases where those with a protected legal interest do not
adequately represent a wider group affected by the legislation. The
wider group should be admitted at the discretion of the court.
This formulation can be compared to that proposed by Lord Woolf.
He advocated a two-track test for standing. The applicant will have a
sufficient interest in cases where she has been personally adversely
affected by the challenged decision. In other cases, standing will be at
the discretion of the court, which will take into account matters such as
the allocation of scarce resources, the relationship between courts and
Parliament, and the screening out of busybodies.180 In a similar vein
the Law Commission proposed a two-track system.181 An applicant
who is personally adversely affected will generally be admitted as a
matter of course. Public interest challenges will lie at the discretion of
the court, the test being whether the court considers that it is in the
public interest for the applicant to make the application.
How far these formulations differ from that presented above
depends on the construction of the term “personal adverse effect”, and
how a court exercises its discretion to admit cases within the second
category. The broader the construction of the term personal adverse
effect, and the more liberally the court interprets the discretion to
admit a case in the second category, then the closer will this
formulation be to that proposed above.
B. Standing: Individuals and Groups
25–048 When we consider the appropriate test for standing, and whether it
should be different for individuals as opposed to groups, we should be
mindful of the insights from the literature on public choice concerning
the logic of collective action.182 Collective action entails both direct
and indirect costs. The direct costs are those of organising the group.
The indirect costs arise from the fact that some
individual autonomy is foregone. Collective action also has benefits.
The group will often be more powerful than any single individual; it
will bring together expertise from diverse areas; the workload will be
spread among the members; and it will normally have greater
resources than any individual. Collective action will be the preferred
option when the benefits of organising in this manner outweigh the
costs. In modern society this calculus increasingly comes down in
favour of collective action. The complexity of many issues between
state and citizen, the very power of the state itself, and the demands of
everyday life on individuals, often mean that collective action is
preferred. It is therefore to be expected that much of the pressure
brought to bear on governments will come from groups.183 This is
important when we think about standing and the tests for individuals
and groups.184
Associational standing is an obvious manifestation of the logic of
collective action. If the court is faced with a group that directly
represents its members then it should not treat this body less
favourably than if the action had been brought by an individual
member: if the individual would be admitted to court as a matter of
right, then so should the group.185
The courts should also be sympathetic to surrogate standing by
groups, especially where the applicant represents a section of the
public affected by the challenged decision and the case is unlikely to
be brought by those immediately affected. In this type of case the logic
of collective action combines with the relative weakness of those
immediately affected.
Public interest challenges by groups will always be more
controversial. It may well be that the test for standing in these
instances should be discretionary, along the lines of the two-track
approach considered above. When considering how this discretion
should be exercised we should, however, be mindful of the fact that a
group challenge to a matter that affects many individuals equally may
be the only realistic option. It is in these areas that the arguments for
collective action will be especially strong.
C. Intervention
25–049 Cases raising matters of public concern would be the most obvious
category in which to allow intervention.186 This is more especially so
if we accept that public interest challenges are warranted in some
circumstances, and if we acknowledge that public law litigation may
well have implications for people other than those who bring the case.
A study by Justice and the Public Law Project187 proposed a new
rule of court which would have the effect of recognising public interest
interveners as a class of litigant in its own right. Leave to intervene
would be needed; the court would have to be satisfied that the case
raised a matter of public interest and that the intervention would assist
the court. There would also be limits or guides to the form and length
of any intervention.
This suggestion has, however, not gone unchallenged.
Schiemann188 expressed concern at the breadth of discretion that
would be given to judges as to who should address the court and on
what issues. He was worried that such interventions would force the
court to consider social policy to a greater extent than hitherto, and
that the traditional judicial role would be undermined. Harlow voiced
similar concerns that intervention could undermine the bipolar,
adversarial nature of adjudication, and that intervenors are not
necessarily impartial or representative.189 These concerns should be
taken seriously, but intervention can nonetheless be very valuable, and
Fordham renewed the call for enhanced intervention rights.190
1 A. Aman and W. Mayton, Administrative Law, 2nd edn (St Pauls, MN: West
(eds), The Golden Metwand and the Crooked Cord, Essays on Public Law in
Honour of Sir William Wade (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998),
pp.221−252.
3 SI 1955/1977; SI 2000/1980; Senior Courts Act 1981 s.31.
13 Forster v Forster and Berridge (1863) 4 B. & S. 187; R. v Twiss (1869) L.R. 4
Q.B. 407 at 413−414.
14 Mayor and Aldermen of City of London v Cox (1867) L.R. 2 H.L. 239;
303 at 305.
23 The courts have, however, held that public law cases must generally be
brought within the new public law procedure save in exceptional cases, see
Ch.27.
24 (a) on declaration: Nicholls v Tavistock UDC [1923] 2 Ch. 18 Ch D; Prescott
v Birmingham Corp [1955] Ch. 210 CA; Brownsea Haven Properties v Poole
Corp [1958] Ch. 574 CA; Eastham v Newcastle United Football Club [1964]
Ch. 413 Ch D; Thorne RDC v Bunting [1972] Ch. 470 Ch D; Tito v Waddell
(No.2) [1977] Ch. 106 Ch D at 260; R. v Greater London Council, Ex p.
Blackburn [1976] 1 W.L.R. 550 CA (Civ Div); (b) on injunction: Chamberlaine
v Chester and Birkenhead Ry Co (1848) 1 Ex. 870; Bradbury v Enfield LBC
[1967] 1 W.L.R. 1311 CA (Civ Div), cf. RCA Corp v Pollard [1982] 3 W.L.R.
1007 CA (Civ Div); and Lonrho Ltd v Shell Petroleum (No.2) [1982] A.C. 173
HL; restrictively interpreting Ex p. Island Records Ltd [1978] Ch. 122 CA (Civ
Div); and Barrs v Bethell [1982] Ch. 294 Ch D; not following Prescott, or R. v
Greater London Council, Ex p. Blackburn.
25 Gouriet v Union of Post Office Workers [1978] A.C. 435 HL; Eaton v Natural
England [2012] EWHC 2401 (Admin); Law Society of England and Wales v
Shah [2015] 1 W.L.R. 2094 (Ch).
26 Gouriet [1978] A.C. 435 at 477−480, 483, 495, 498−499, 508. cf. the view in
28 Lord Wilberforce was the only one of their Lordships to mention special
damage, but this might be because special damage was not pleaded. In Barrs
[1982] Ch. 294 it was held that an individual could proceed in his own name if
he could prove such damage.
29 See para.25–034.
31 See para.25–015.
32 Attorney General v PYA Quarries Ltd [1957] 2 Q.B. 169, CA; Attorney
39 Devonport Corp v Tozer [1903] 1 Ch. 759 CA; Attorney General v Pontypridd
Elkenford Ltd [1977] 1 W.L.R. 324 CA (Civ Div); Thanet DC v Ninedrive Ltd
[1978] 1 All E.R. 703 Ch D; Kent CC v Batchelor (No.2) [1979] 1 W.L.R. 213
QBD; Stoke-on-Trent [1984] A.C. 754; Monks v East Northamptonshire DC
[2002] EWHC 473 (Admin); Guildford BC v Hein [2005] EWCA Civ 979;
Oldham MBC v Worldwide Marketing Solutions Ltd [2014] EWHC 1910 (QB);
Birmingham City Council v Afsar [2019] EWHC 1560 (QB).
43 Birmingham CC v Shafi [2009] 1 W.L.R. 1961 CA (Civ Div).
change has been brought about by the Constitutional Reform Act 2005 Sch.11(1)
para.1.
59 See Ch.27.
60 R. v Inland Revenue Commissioners, Ex p. National Federation of Self-
Employed and Small Businesses Ltd [1982] A.C. 617 HL; P. Cane, “Standing,
Legality and the Limits of Public Law” [1981] P.L. 322. When the IRC case was
decided the test for standing was still in Ord.53 and had not yet been
incorporated in a statute. This was important because the Rules of the Supreme
Court can only alter matters of procedure and not substance. If standing were to
be regarded as substantive then no change could be effectuated through Ord.53,
although the change could have been made by the court itself.
61 Gouriet [1978] A.C. 435.
70 IRC [1982] A.C. 617 at 632−633 Lord Wilberforce, at 646 Lord Fraser, at
667, 669−670.
79 R. v Felixstowe JJ, Ex p. Leigh [1987] Q.B. 582 QBD at 595−598; R.
91 R. (Bulger) v Secretary of State for the Home Department, and the Lord Chief
Justice of England and Wales [2001] 3 All E.R. 449 DC.
92 Cane, “Standing up for the Public” [1995] P.L. 276.
93 Royal College of Nursing of the UK v DHSS [1981] 1 All E.R. 545 HL at 551;
R. v Chief Adjudication Officer, Ex p. Bland, 6 February 1985; R. (National
Association of Guardians ad Litem and Reporting Officers) v Children Family
Court Advisory Service [2002] A.C.D. 44 QBD.
94 R. v Dyfed CC, Ex p. Manson [1994] C.O.D. 366 QBD.
95 Child Poverty Action Group [1990] 2 Q.B. 540 detailed argument on the
107 See, e.g. R. (Ramey) v University of Oxford [2014] EWHC 4847 (Admin).
111 R. (Save our Surgery Ltd) v Joint Committee of Primary Care Trusts [2013]
EWHC 439 (Admin).
112 R. v Darlington BC and Darlington Transport Co Ltd, Ex p. the Association
of Darlington Taxi Owners and the Darlington Owner Drivers Association
[1994] C.O.D. 424 QBD.
113 R. v Traffic Commissioner for the North Western Traffic Area, Ex p. “Brake”
120 J. Miles, “Standing under the Human Rights Act 1998: Theories of Rights
Enforcement and the Nature of Public Law Adjudication” [2000] C.L.J. 133.
121 The jurisprudence was in fact made under art.25 ECHR. This contained the
requirement that the applicant be a victim in order to bring a case before the
European Commission of Human Rights. The Convention has been modified by
Protocol 11, which abolished the Commission and remodelled the court. The
requirement that the applicant be a victim in order to bring a case before the
court is now to be found in art.34 of the Convention, but the jurisprudence
decided under art.25 will doubtless continue to be applied.
122 W. Schabas, The European Convention on Human Rights: A Commentary
138 Barrs [1982] Ch. 294; Steeples v Derbyshire City Council [1985] 1 W.L.R.
256 QBD at 290−298; Ashby v Ebdon [1985] Ch. 394 Ch D; Stoke-on-Trent
[1984] A.C. 754 at 766−767, 769−771; Mortimer v Labour Party, 14 January
2000; Shah [2015] 1 W.L.R. 2094 (Ch); Eaton v Natural England [2012] EWHC
2401 (Admin); Law Society of England and Wales v Shah [2015] 1 W.L.R. 2094
(Ch).
139 Gouriet [1978] A.C. 435 at 483, 501−502.
142 Lord Woolf, Access to Justice: The Final Report to the Lord Chancellor on
144 R. (McVey) v Secretary of State for Health [2010] EWHC 1225 (Admin).
145 R. (Howard League for Penal Reform) v Secretary of State for the Home
Department (No.1) [2002] EWHC 1750 (Admin); Secretary of State for Foreign
and Commonwealth Affairs v HM Assistant Deputy Coroner for Inner North
London [2013] EWHC 1786 (Admin); R. (British American Tobacco UK Ltd) v
Secretary of State for Health [2014] EWHC 3515 (Admin); R. (Crompton) v
South Yorkshire Police and Crime Commissioner [2017] 3 WLUK 26 DC.
146 R. v Home Secretary, Ex p. Sivakumaran [1988] A.C. 958 HL; R. v Coventry
149 Compare C. Reich, “The New Property” (1964) 73 Yale L.J. 733; and W.
Simon, “Rights and Redistribution in the Welfare System” (1986) 38 Stan. L.R.
1431.
150 Vining, Legal Identity, The Coming of Age of Public Law (1978), p.25; Cane,
“The Function of Standing Rules in Administrative Law” [1980] P.L. 303.
151 Vining, Legal Identity, The Coming of Age of Public Law (1978), p.20.
154 Their Lordships framed their judgments as if the fusion technique had been
an accepted part of the legal vocabulary. With respect, this was not so. It is true
that one can point to cases in which the courts have considered the ambit and
purposes of a statutory scheme in order to determine standing. However, these
are far outweighed by the cases in which the issue of locus standi has been
decided by abstracted categories, such as ratepayers or competitors, without any
detailed analysis of the scope of the duty or nature of the breach.
155 S. Deakin and Z. Adams, Markesinis and Deakin’s Tort Law, 8th edn
166 R. Brilmayer, “Judicial Review, Justiciability and the Limits of the Common
168 See also, Schiemann, “Locus Standi” [1990] P.L. 342, 348−349; Harlow
(1976).
170 Compare Harlow, “Public Law and Popular Justice” (2002) 65 M.L.R. 1, 10.
175 “Standing: Taxpayers and Others” (1967−1968) 35 U. Chic. L.R. 601; “The
Liberalised Law of Standing” (1969−1970) 37 U. Chic. L.R. 450; “Judicial
Control of Administrative Action: A Review” (1966) 66 Col. L.R. 635,
659−669.
176 IRC [1982] A.C. 617 at 644.
179 Sedley J expressly placed reliance on older case law which in effect endorsed
a citizen action view of standing: De Haber (1851) 17 Q.B. 171; Worthington
(1874–75) L.R. 10 C.P. 379; Speyer [1916] 1 K.B. 595.
180 Lord Woolf, “Judicial Review: A Possible Programme for Reform” [1992]
188 Sir K. Schiemann, “Interventions in Public Interest Cases” [1996] P.L. 240.
189 Harlow, “Public Law and Popular Justice” (2002) 65 M.L.R. 1, 10−11.
JUDICIAL REMEDIES
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
26–001 i. A citizen aggrieved by a decision of a public body has a variety
of remedies available.1 The prerogative orders of mandamus,
prohibition and certiorari are, after amendment to the Senior
Courts Act 1981 in 2004, known as mandatory, prohibiting and
quashing orders.2
ii. The High Court has jurisdiction to make mandatory, prohibiting
and quashing orders in those classes of case in which,
immediately before 1 May 2004, it had jurisdiction to make
orders of mandamus, prohibition and certiorari respectively.3
Thus, the grounds on which mandatory, prohibiting and quashing
orders can be made remain largely the same as prior to 2004.
iii. A citizen can also use the declaration and the injunction, which
have been applied to public bodies. Reference will also be made
to other remedies. The Crown’s involvement in judicial review
proceedings is nominal, and the action is between the applicant
and the public authority.4
iv. The law of remedies was hitherto highly complex, with differing
procedures applying to the prerogative orders and to declaration
and injunction. Some of this disorder was swept away by reform
considered in the following chapter. The reform was, however,
principally related to procedure. The grounds on which the
remedies can be given are not altered. The procedural reforms are
considered in the following chapter.
26–004 The general starting point is that certiorari and prohibition apply to
quash any decision of a public law nature. The scope of “public law”
for these purposes will be considered in the following chapter.
Certiorari and prohibition cannot be used to challenge the decision of a
superior court.12 The orders will issue to any person or body that
exercises statutory authority, including departments of state,13 local
authorities,14 individual ministers,15 magistrates16 and public bodies.17
It is assumed that they will not be available against the Crown, the
reason being that the orders are punishable by contempt, being
commands from the court. This is anachronistic since the existence of
a potentially coercive remedy against the Crown as an institution does
not imply that such measures would or could be taken against Her
Majesty in person. However, other provisions are based upon similar
reasoning.18 The availability of the prerogative orders against the
Crown will be considered later.19
The remedies are not restricted to those whose authority is based
on statute. They are available to protect common law rights of a public
nature,20 and also to prevent institutions or persons acting under
prerogative powers from exceeding their authority.21
26–005 The traditional assumption has been that certiorari will not be available
where a body is exercising powers that may be of a public nature if the
derivation of that power is contractual.22 There are, however,
statements to the contrary,23 but it is
nonetheless doubtful whether an institution that derives its powers
solely from contract is amenable to the prerogative orders.24 The case
law will be discussed in the following chapter.25
The argument underlying such cases is not that there is some
“analytical” reason precluding the application of the prerogative orders
to bodies that derive their power from contract. It is rather that the
facts of these cases disclosed no “public” law issue, but simply one of
a private or domestic character.26 The courts are, moreover, willing to
look beyond the source of a body’s power, and to inquire into its
nature, in order to determine whether it is susceptible to judicial
review.27
26–007 If the dichotomy between rights and privileges was one plague visited
upon administrative law, a second was that between administrative and
judicial functions. The history of the rise and fall of this confusion can
be traced as follows.
In the early years certiorari and prohibition were used partly to
control inferior courts, and hence bodies exercising judicial functions.
However, even in their early infancy the writs were also used to
control many activities of an administrative nature, such as those
undertaken by commissioners of sewers or of tithes.38 Government
departments, individual ministers and quasi-governmental
undertakings were all within their purview. Defences to the application
of certiorari or prohibition based upon the non-judicial nature of the
proceedings were treated dismissively by the courts.39
Atkin LJ spoke of certiorari applying where the rights of subjects
were affected and where the body had the duty to act judicially.40 He
saw the judicial element as inferred from the nature of the power and
its effect on individuals. Nonetheless, some later courts held that apart
from an effect on the rights of individuals there must be a superadded
duty to act judicially.41 This conceptual confusion led to bad decisions.
The courts held, for example, that disciplinary proceedings, not being
judicial, were not susceptible to certiorari.42
All was not darkness in these years, but the occasional ray of
clarity was the more apparent for being exceptional.43 In Ridge v
Baldwin44 one reason given by Lord Reid for natural justice becoming
unduly restricted was the confusion introduced by the requirement of a
superadded duty to act judicially as a condition for certiorari, which
was adopted in some natural justice cases. The judicial element was,
said Lord Reid, simply to be inferred from the nature of the power.45
Forty years on, the stance adopted by Atkin LJ in the Electricity
Commissioners case was restored both for remedies and natural
justice. Certiorari was subsequently held applicable to discipline by a
prison visitor46 and to decisions by a local planning authority.47 The
argument that the judicial or administrative nature of the proceedings
should not be relevant for the purposes of certiorari was confirmed by
O’Reilly v Mackman.48 Lord Diplock, giving the unanimous decision
of the court, stated that there was no longer a requirement of a
superadded duty to act judicially before the prerogative orders could
apply. It was, said his Lordship, no longer necessary to distinguish
between judicial and administrative acts.
26–008 It was assumed in the past that certiorari should not readily apply to
legislative functions. In Ridge Lord Reid, while disapproving of the
superadded duty requirement, agreed with the result in the Church
Assembly49 case, because the process involved was legislative. It is by
no means self-evident that this should be so. The prerogative orders
cannot be used to challenge primary legislation, because of the
sovereignty of Parliament. It is not evident why other “legislation”
should be immune from the prerogative orders, more particularly given
that the declaration will issue against secondary legislation. The
prerogative orders have issued to stages in the legislative process, as
exemplified by the Electricity Commissioners50 decision and other
cases where the courts expressed their willingness to award certiorari
where the function was defined as legislative.51 There is no reason on
principle why the prerogative orders should not be available against
secondary legislation stricto sensu and to impugn rules of a legislative
character made by a public body.52 There have been cases in which it
was assumed that certiorari was available to quash a statutory
instrument, even
though the courts decided in their discretion not to order the remedy.53
There have also been cases where they have quashed statutory
instruments.54
This is surely correct. The line between decisions made
individually or ad hoc, and those institutionalised into rules, may be
fine and fortuitous. Moreover, there is force in Buxton LJ’s
observation that:
“… the imperative that public life should be conducted lawfully suggests that it is more
important to correct unlawful legislation, that until quashed is universally binding and used
by the public as a guide to conduct, than it is to correct a single decision, that affects only a
limited range of people”.55
3. MANDAMUS/MANDATORY ORDER
A. Introduction
26–012 The early history of the writ of mandamus is by no means clear.
Commands from the King were, as de Smith points out, a common
feature among the early writs, but it is doubtful whether any real
connection existed between these early writs and what we now know
as mandamus.64 The seminal case for the emergence of the writ is
Bagg’s Case65 and few legal rules can be said to have had so colourful
a birth. Bagg was a chief burgess of Plymouth who had been removed
from office for unseemly conduct, consisting of calling the mayor “a
cozening knave”, threatening to make his “neck crack” as well as other
offensive gestures. Despite this behaviour a mandamus was issued
against Plymouth, because Bagg had been disenfranchised without a
hearing. Similar cases of deprivation of office followed.66 It was,
however, Lord Mansfield who fully exploited the potential in
mandamus stating that67:
“It was introduced, to prevent disorder from a failure of justice, and defect of police.
Therefore it ought to be used upon all occasions where the law established no specific
remedy, and where in justice and good government there ought to be one.”
i. Type of duty
26–013 For mandamus to lie there must be a public duty owed to the applicant.
This involves two distinct requirements.
First, the duty must be of a public as opposed to a private
character. The remedy was therefore held to be inappropriate when
requested against a private arbitral tribunal, and when sought in
relation to reinstatement in a trade union.69 Provided that the duty is
public, it may flow from statute, prerogative, common law, charter,
custom or even contract.70
Secondly, even if the duty is of a public character it must be owed
to an individual. In R. v Secretary of State for War71 an officer sought
mandamus to compel the secretary of state to upgrade the
compensation he received on his retirement. He failed. The duty
incumbent upon the secretary of state was held to be owed to the
Crown alone. This need not be so, as admitted in the case. Whether it
is or not will be a matter of construction. In the modern day the
general rule of construction is that duties imposed on ministers are
owed to the public, or a section thereof, rather than to the Crown
alone.
The courts might also decline mandamus where, although the duty
is of a public character, its terms are so open textured as to indicate
that the statute is not enforceable by individuals. The courts might
reach this conclusion by saying that the issue is not justiciable. It is
more likely that the courts will retain control in principle. They assert
that mandamus might issue, but find on the facts that there is no cause.
This approach will be considered in more detail later.
26–014 Mandamus will issue where the tribunal has made a jurisdictional
error, and has thereby declined to exercise a power or duty that it
ought to have exercised. Older cases distinguished between situations
where the tribunal reached an erroneous decision on the merits, and
those in which it refused to consider the merits at all, because it felt
that they were outside its power. Mandamus would issue in the latter,
but not in the former situation. This approach is now of questionable
validity. The case law was based upon the narrow commencement
theory of jurisdiction, under which very few defects would be
categorised as jurisdictional. The necessary corollary was that no
remedy would be available.
For example in Dayman72 the applicant claimed that expenses he
had incurred for paving a new street had not been met. The magistrate
decided after hearing
the parties that the street was not a new street, and the applicant sought
mandamus. His application failed. The magistrate had, said the court,
heard and determined the matter. That was all that was required of
him. It was irrelevant that the court might believe that the magistrate’s
view of “new street” was mistaken. The expansion in the concept of
jurisdictional error considered earlier73 would be likely to produce a
different result. The reviewing court would reassess for itself the
meaning of “new street”, the magistrate would be held to have made a
jurisdictional error, and mandamus would issue.
Mandamus can also be used to correct a mistaken exercise of
discretion. Thus, the remedy is available if a decision is reached on the
basis of irrelevant considerations or improper purposes,74 if a pre-
determined policy is applied too rigidly,75 if the wrong question is
answered,76 if the body has not properly considered whether to
exercise its discretion77 or for other misuses of power.78 Where,
however, the duties are broadly framed and involve competing claims
upon limited resources the court is less likely to find any ultra vires
behaviour or, even if it does, it may in its discretion refuse the
remedy.79
26–015 The traditional approach was that before seeking mandamus the
applicant must have made a specific demand to the respondent that the
latter perform the relevant duty. In exceptional circumstances this
requirement could be dispensed with,80 and the duty to make a specific
demand was never an absolute one.81 It is doubtful whether this
formalistic requirement will be insisted upon in the modern day. It will
normally be unrealistic to expect an individual to make a formal
demand that the duty should be performed.82
4. DECLARATION
A. Introduction
26–017 The development of declaration is interesting, largely because the
main catalyst was not the courts.93 Indeed, it might well be said that
declaration flowered despite judicial opposition. Declaratory
judgments, as opposed to purely declaratory orders, appear to be a
relatively novel development. A wealth of dicta can be found in the
mid-19th century asserting that the courts should not give a declaration
of rights per se.94 Moreover, as de Smith observes,95 Lord Brougham’s
campaign advocating the introduction of the declaration only makes
sense against such a background. Certain limited exceptions existed in
which the courts could grant some declaratory relief.
There was, however, judicial reluctance to make use of declaratory
relief and this was evident in the courts’ treatment of the Court of
Chancery Procedure Act 1852 s.50. This stated that no suit should be
open to objection on the ground that a merely declaratory decree or
order was being claimed, and that the courts could make binding
declarations of right without granting consequential relief. The
legislation was largely nullified by judicial interpretation: declaratory
relief was held to be available unaccompanied by any consequential
relief, but only where the plaintiff would have been entitled to other
relief if it had been sought.96
In 1883, consequent upon powers conferred by the Judicature Acts,
the Rule Committee passed Ord.25 r.5. This repeated the substance of
the 1852 legislation with the important alteration that a declaration
could be made whether any consequential relief “is or could be
claimed, or not”. This was intended to circumvent the restrictive
interpretation given to the 1852 legislation, but it was to be 30 years
before the courts exploited this new potential.
The breakthrough came in Dyson.97 Dyson was served with a
notice by the Inland Revenue Commissioners, which required him to
supply certain particulars under pain of a penalty. Dyson refused. He
sought declarations that the demand was unauthorised and was ultra
vires the Finance Act. He relied on Ord.25 r.5, and upon Exchequer
precedents prior to 1842. The Court of Appeal accepted that his
method of proceeding was a proper one, and regarded it as a
convenient and beneficial way to test the legality of government
action. The Dyson case represented a landmark in the development of
the declaration.98 The current rule omits any reference to rights and
provides that the court may make binding declarations whether or not
any other remedy is claimed.99
B. Declaration: Scope
i. Broad Scope
26–018 The period following Dyson was still characterised by judicial
restraint.100 However, as time progressed the courts became more
aware of its potential, especially when contrasted with limitations on
the prerogative orders. Judicial statements countenanced the broad
reach of the declaration and its freedom from constraint.101
The declaration can operate both as an original and a supervisory
remedy. In the former instance a court will declare what rights the
parties have, for example, under a contract or over land. In the latter
case, the remedy will control decisions made by other bodies, such as
declaring the attachment of planning conditions to be invalid. This
duality strengthens the declaration. It allows a court to declare
invalid action by a public body in pursuance of the supervisory role,
and then, if appropriate, to pronounce on the parties’ rights, in
pursuance of the original role.
No finite list of areas to which declaration applies can be provided.
The subject-matter includes administrative decisions or orders,102
subordinate legislation,103 and, in areas covered by EU law, primary
legislation.104 Rights to pursue a trade105 and issues of status106 are
also subject to declaration. In addition, the scope of a person’s
financial obligations is subject to the declaratory procedure,107 as are
questions relating to the scope of obligations imposed upon a public
body,108 or sporting body,109 and the construction of contracts with
public authorities.110
C. Declaration: Limits
26–020 The effect of alternative remedies on the availability of the declaration
will be considered in a later section.113
26–023 Whether the supervisory jurisdiction of the High Court has been
excluded will be considered as a separate topic.123 The difference
between exclusion of original and supervisory jurisdiction is clear in
Fullbrook.124 Section 35 of the Local Government Superannuation Act
1937 provided that any question concerning the rights and liabilities of
an employee should be determined initially by the local authority and
then, if the employee was dissatisfied, by the minister whose decision
would be final. The plaintiff was deprived of his superannuation
benefits. He challenged this by a declaration claiming that he had been
denied a hearing. The defendants relied on s.35 and on cases
mentioned in the previous section. This argument failed. While s.35
might exclude the original jurisdiction to grant a declaration, the
essence of the plaintiff’s claim was the invocation of the supervisory
jurisdiction of the courts, a power to declare void action that was ultra
vires. This survived and could not be abrogated by the finality clause
within s.35.
26–024 The issues of ripeness and mootness are integral to a rational system of
remedies, but are not as fully developed in the UK as they are in the
USA.125
The courts dislike deciding hypothetical questions. Historically,
this is because the Stuart monarchs placed pressure on judges to
respond to advisory opinions in the manner most favourable to the
Crown. More modern rationales for being wary of hypothetical
questions include: fear of a flood of litigation126; concern that there
might be a difference between the abstract question posed and the way
in which the issue arose in real terms, thereby casting doubt upon the
probative value of the earlier judgment; concern that the parties most
interested in the dispute might not be before the court127; and wastage
of judicial resources because the hypothetical event might never
materialise.128 If advice on difficult points is required then the Judicial
Committee Act 1833 s.4 empowers the Crown to seek legal advice
from the Privy Council.
There is, however, the important counter-argument that a legal
system should enable people to operate with knowledge of the legal
rights and obligations thereby entailed. If the concept of hypothetical
question is drawn too broadly it will prevent this function of a legal
system from being performed. It has been held that the courts possess
an inherent jurisdiction to make advisory declarations as a matter of
discretion.129 Lord Woolf noted that it may be advantageous for a
public body to be able to obtain an anticipatory ruling, particularly
where there is doubt as to the legality of its proposed action.130
Recommendations that there should be power to make advisory
declarations on matters of general public importance were made by
Lord Woolf in his report on the civil justice system,131 and by the Law
Commission.132
26–025 The courts have treated as hypothetical, questions which come too
early and are thus unripe, or which come too late and are therefore
moot. An example of the former is Draper.133 The defendant optical
association informed the plaintiff that
it believed him to be in breach of its code of ethics, and that a meeting
would be held to determine whether his name should be removed from
the list of members. In advance of this the plaintiff sought a
declaration that the association could not enforce the code against him
or remove him from the list of members. Farwell J held the application
premature: the association had not yet done anything to the plaintiff
and the meeting had not yet been held. The court is more likely to take
jurisdiction when it feels that a legal decision will prevent possible
disruptive action. In Lee,134 the plaintiff local authority asked for a
declaration that the defendant’s caravans were temporary buildings
and thereby liable to be removed. The defendant argued that no dispute
existed. In rejecting this argument the court was influenced by the
possibility of a fight if the local authority attempted to remove the
caravans without having first clarified the legal position.
Disputes may also be held to be hypothetical when they come too
late and are in this sense moot,135 where the point has become of
academic interest,136 or where the dispute has ceased to be of practical
importance.137 Thus, the courts refused to issue a declaration in
relation to the legality of a statutory scheme concerning the export of
live animals, where the scheme had been repealed prior to the
application for judicial review.138 However, where the courts feel that
an important point of legal principle is involved they may give
judgment even though the matter has ceased to have practical import
for the parties.139 In Salem,140 Lord Slynn held that the courts have
discretion to hear a case even where there is no longer a live claim that
will affect the rights and obligations of the parties. Lord Slynn held
that this discretion should, however, be exercised with caution.
Appeals that were academic between the parties should not be heard
unless there was a good reason in the public interest for doing so.
There would be a good reason where there was a discrete point of
statutory construction, which did not involve detailed consideration of
facts, and where there were likely to be a large number of similar cases
so that the point would, in any event, have to be decided in the near
future. The decision in Salem was overruled by the House of Lords in
Anufrijeva.141 The reasons for the overruling did not, however, affect
the issue of whether the courts have discretion to hear a case even
where there is no longer a live claim.142
Closely allied to but distinct from the cases discussed in the last
paragraph are those in which a declaration is refused because of the
practical impossibility of its terms being fulfilled, or because the
inconvenience caused by issuing the remedy would be great compared
with the benefits to be obtained. Coney143 provides an example of the
latter. A school reorganisation scheme was challenged for failure to
comply with minor requirements concerning the posting of notices.
The court characterised the requirements as directory rather than
mandatory, but it made clear that it would in any event have exercised
its discretion to refuse relief. Granting the remedy would at most have
postponed the whole scheme for a year.
iv. Justiciability
D. Declaration: Impact
26–027 The normal impact of a declaration is to render the decision challenged
retrospectively invalid, or void ab initio. There may, however, be
instances in which its impact is prospective rather than retrospective.
The court may in effect refuse to grant relief in the instant case, but
nonetheless proceed to give a declaration on the general point of
law.150 The reasons for employing this technique are similar to those
encountered when discussing invalidity.151 To render the contested
decision retrospectively null may have a profound effect on the
administration, or may adversely affect the rights of third parties. The
court may decide to refuse relief in the instant case,152 or it may, while
declining relief in the instant case, take the opportunity to clarify the
law in the area.153 The desirability of modifying the concept of
retrospective nullity in this fashion has been considered in the earlier
discussion of invalidity.154
5. INJUNCTION
A. Introduction
26–029 The injunction has had an impact on public law for many years,160 as
exemplified by case law on public nuisance and the administration of
charitable or public trusts. The latter was, as de Smith pointed out,161
of particular importance. The Attorney General’s intervention was
founded on the Crown as parens patriae. This role existed not only for
charities, infants, and those infirm in mind, but also included a
visitatorial authority over those charitable and ecclesiastical
corporations that lacked visitors of their own. Proceedings by the
Attorney General often arose because such bodies defaulted in
performance of their functions. The general right of the Attorney
General to prevent ultra vires action grew out of a broad conception of
the prerogative of protection.162
Despite the respectability of its historical lineage, the injunction
remained largely on the periphery of public law. The principal reason
was that the prerogative orders existed, but it was also because the
injunction remained shackled by its history. The criteria for individual
standing were derived from those of public nuisance.163 If these were
not satisfied the Attorney General had to bring the action. This
reasoning was criticised in the discussion of standing.164 The rules
were, however, reaffirmed in Gouriet.165 The fetters binding the
injunction have indeed been tightened. Whereas the old rules from
public nuisance could have been liberalised, the reasoning in the
Gouriet case rendered this much less likely. The court’s reasoning was
predicated on the assumption that the citizen could not protect the
public interest unless he was settling a private dispute, or one in which
he had a special interest, with a public body. The courts have,
however, taken a more liberal attitude to standing under the Senior
Courts Act 1981 s.31 than at common law.166
26–030 Injunctions can be negative or positive, prohibiting certain action from
being done or commanding the performance of certain action. In
addition, an injunction can be perpetual or interim. The former is
granted at the end of the action and conclusively determines the
respective rights and liabilities of the parties. Interim injunctions are
designed to preserve the status quo pending trial of the main
action.167 The plaintiff must show that there is some arguable point of
law and that the balance of convenience indicates that relief should be
granted pending trial of the main action.168
It has, however, been held by Lord Goff that a public authority
should not normally be restrained from enforcing an apparently valid
law unless the court is satisfied that the challenge to the validity of the
law is prima facie so firmly based as to justify so exceptional a course
being taken.169 It may be difficult to assess the balance of convenience
in public law cases, because the public body will be representing a
wider public interest when making the challenged decision. It is
therefore unsurprising that the courts are likely to take into account the
strength of the applicant’s case in challenging the act when deciding
where the balance of convenience lies. The party in whose favour the
interim relief is granted will normally have to give an undertaking in
damages lest he proves to be unsuccessful and the defendant suffers
loss. However, where the challenge is to government policy that is not
enshrined in legislation this will affect the weighing process and the
balance of convenience.170
The award of an interim injunction will be affected by the Human
Rights Act 1998 s.12(3), which provides that where a claim might
affect the right to freedom of expression, no such relief is to be granted
so as to restrain publication before trial unless the court is satisfied that
the applicant is likely to establish that publication should not be
allowed.171
i. Injunctions: general
26–034 An information in the nature of quo warranto was, until 1938, the
procedure by which challenges to the usurpation of a public office
were made. In 1938 the information in the nature of quo warranto was
abolished and replaced by the injunction.186 The substance of the
action remained the same, and only the form of the remedy was
altered. Thus, the office must be public in character, and the usurper
must have actually acted in pursuance of it; a claim per se was
insufficient. The office itself had to be not only public but
“substantive”, as distinct from mere employment at the will of others.
Standing to secure the remedy was broadly construed,187 but
acquiescence or undue delay would operate to defeat the plaintiff.
Specific statutory provisions govern challenges to particular types of
office.188
6. OTHER REMEDIES
26–037 A person aggrieved with action taken by a public body may be able to
bring a civil claim in tort or contract. The scope of these causes of
action will be considered below.197
A. Habeas Corpus
26–038 If an individual is detained the writ of habeas corpus may be sought to
challenge the legality of the administrative order on which the
detention was based.198 A brief outline of this remedy will be provided
here. Fuller treatment may be found elsewhere.199
The immediate progenitor of the present writ was the writ of
habeas corpus cum causa, which developed in the 14th century as a
mechanism for testing the legality of detention. Reforms expediting
the procedure were introduced by the Habeas Corpus Act 1679, which
also contained financial penalties for those, whether they were judges
or jailers, who refused service of the writ or impeded its effective
execution. The detainee will normally make the application, unless
the circumstances of the imprisonment preclude this and the writ will
be served on the person who has the applicant in custody.
The cases on scope of review in a habeas corpus action are a
minefield, evidencing a bewildering variety of terminology. Starting
from first principles, it seems clear that the writ cannot be used to
challenge the correctness of the detention, but only its validity.
Correctness can only be challenged on appeal.200 This is simply an
application of the traditional principles of judicial review.
Jurisdictional error provides a clear reason for awarding the writ.201 It
is less clear whether habeas corpus can be awarded for an error on the
face of the record, but the answer appears to be in the affirmative,202
and the courts will also consider whether the evidence justifies the
holding of the detainee.203 In general, while the courts insist that they
are looking at validity rather than correctness, they will not normally
be prevented from releasing a detainee who they feel ought to be
released by inquiry into the jurisprudential niceties of errors going to
and errors within jurisdiction.204 Such distinctions are, in any event,
now largely of historical interest given the courts’ expansion of the
concept of jurisdictional error. A purely technical flaw in the process
leading to detention may lead the court to decline to issue the writ.205
26–039 Habeas corpus will be available to determine whether the detention
itself was valid,206 and the courts will normally apply the general
principles of administrative law when determining this issue.207
Where, however, an applicant seeks to attack the underlying
administrative decision, which was the cause of the detention, judicial
review should be used rather than habeas corpus.208 There is a more
general tendency to prefer challenges by way of judicial review, with
resort to habeas corpus where no other mode of challenge is
available.209 Where a claimant challenged via judicial review and
habeas corpus, the proceedings should be harmonised.
The Lord Chancellor put forward proposals that affect the
relationship between judicial review and habeas corpus.210 The
principal recommendation was that habeas corpus should, subject to
permission, be available in judicial review proceedings for all civil
cases. The Lord Chancellor also sought views on whether habeas
corpus should be wholly subsumed into judicial review, and whether
the discretionary elements of judicial review in relation to permission,
time limits and remedies, should also apply to a claim for habeas
corpus within judicial review proceedings.211
B. Default Powers
26–040 Many statutes contain provisions which enable a more senior body in
the administrative hierarchy or the minister to exercise powers where
the original grantee has failed to do so. Normally the defaulting
authority will be warned and given time to fulfil its duties. Failing this,
the duties will be transferred to the minister, to an independent body,
or new members may be appointed to replace those in default.
The courts on some occasions have treated the existence of such
powers as excluding other remedies. Thus in Pasmore212 the existence
of default powers in the Public Health Act 1875 was held to prevent a
private person from obtaining mandamus to enforce a duty to provide
such sewers as might be necessary for draining a district. In other
cases the courts have held that other remedies are available despite the
presence of default powers in cases involving, for example,
education213 and television.214
It is odd to regard default powers as an alternative remedy that is
equally beneficial as a declaration or mandamus. In some ways it is
not a legal remedy at all.215 The cases which regard default powers as
excluding other remedies should therefore be narrowly construed.
Those cases where such powers have been regarded as exclusive are
perhaps better explained as ones in which the nature of the duty
rendered it unsuited to enforcement by individuals. There are
indications in the case law that the courts have had this factor in mind
when construing the relevant statute.216
Although default powers will only be used as a last resort they are
a potent threat, particularly when the relationship between central and
local government is under strain.217 The exercise of such powers will
be subject to judicial review. If
the minister acts on irrelevant considerations or misdirects himself in
fact or law, then the intervention will be ultra vires. The court should
not interfere simply because they took a different view from that of the
minister.218
1 C. Lewis, Judicial Remedies in Public Law, 5th edn (London: Sweet &
Maxwell, 2015).
2 Senior Courts Act 1981 s.29, as amended by SI 1033/2004 art.3. The Supreme
Court Act 1981 was renamed the Senior Courts Act 1981, see Constitutional
Reform Act 2005 Sch.11(1) para.1.
3 Senior Courts Act 1981 s.29(1)(A).
causes according to common law where the sum involved exceeded 40 shillings,
Rubinstein, Jurisdiction and Illegality (1965), p.57.
7 Groenvelt v Burwell (1700) 1 Ld Raym 454. See also, the reports in (1700) 1
Comyns 76; (1700) 12 Mod 386; Commins v Massam (1643) March NC 196,
197; R. v Hide (1647) Style 60; R. v Plowright (1685) 3 Mod 94.
8 Rubinstein, Jurisdiction and Illegality (1965), pp.71−80.
9 Mayor and Aldermen of City of London v Cox (1867) L.R. 2 H.L. 239 HL.
19 See Ch.28.
1060.
21 R. v Criminal Injuries Compensation Board, Ex p. Lain [1967] 2 Q.B. 864
QBD at 880–881, 884; Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister for the Civil
Service [1985] A.C. 374 HL.
22 R. v National Joint Council for the Craft of Dental Technicians (Disputes
Committee), Ex p. Neate [1953] 1 Q.B. 704 DC; Vidyodaya University Council v
Silva [1965] 1 W.L.R. 77; Herring v Templeman [1973] 3 All E.R. 569 CA (Civ
Div) at 585; R. v Post Office, Ex p. Byrne [1975] I.C.R. 221 DC at 226.
23 O’Reilly v Mackman [1982] 3 W.L.R. 604 (Lord Denning MR); [1983] 2 A.C.
237 HL at 279 (Lord Diplock).
24 R. v BBC, Ex p. Lavelle [1983] 1 W.L.R. 23 QBD at 31; Law v National
Greyhound Racing Club Ltd [1983] 3 All E.R. 300 CA (Civ Div); R. v Panel on
Take-overs and Mergers, Ex p. Datafin Plc [1987] Q.B. 815 CA (Civ Div) at
847; approving Ex p. Neate [1953] 1 Q.B. 704.
25 See para.27–027.
847−849.
27 See para.27–022.
A.C. 898 at 917; R. v Kent Police Authority, Ex p. Godden [1971] 2 Q.B. 662
CA (Civ Div); R. v Board of Visitors of Hull Prison, Ex p. St Germain [1979]
Q.B. 425 CA (Civ Div).
30 R. v St Lawrence’s Hospital Statutory Visitors, Ex p. Pritchard [1953] 1
W.L.R. 1158 DC.
31 R. (Shrewsbury and Atcham BC) v Secretary of State for Communities and
QBD.
43 R. v Manchester Legal Aid Committee, Ex p. R.A. Brand and Co Ltd [1952] 2
Inc [1992] Q.B. 353 DC; R. (C) v Secretary of State for Justice [2009] Q.B. 657
CA (Civ Div); R. (Evans) v Secretary of State for Justice [2011] EWHC 1146
(Admin); R. (British Blind and Shutter Assn) v Secretary of State for Housing,
Communities and Local Government [2019] EWHC 3162 (Admin).
55 R. (C) [2009] Q.B. 657 at [41].
808 HL; Rydqvist v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2002] 1 W.L.R.
3343 CA (Civ Div).
58 De Haber v Queen of Portugal (1851) 17 Q.B. 171 KBD; Worthington v
61 See Ch.24.
692.
72 R. v Dayman (1857) 7 El. & Bl. 672 at 676, 677, 679; R. v Cheshire JJ, Ex p.
78 Padfield v Minister of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food [1968] A.C. 997 HL.
84 See, e.g. R. v Churchwardens of All Saints Wigan (1876) 1 App. Cas. 611 at
620; Chief Constable of the North Wales Police v Evans [1982] 1 W.L.R. 1155
HL.
85 R. v Peak Park Joint Planning Board, Ex p. Jackson (1976) 74 L.G.R. 376 at
380; Chief Constable of the North Wales Police v Evans [1982] 1 W.L.R. 1155
HL.
86 R. v Northumberland Compensation Appeal Tribunal, Ex p. Shaw [1952] 1
97 Dyson v Attorney General [1911] 1 K.B. 410 CA. See also, [1912] 1 Ch. 158.
98 In Guaranty Trust Co of New York v Hannay and Co [1915] 2 K.B. 536 CA,
the court rejected the argument that Ord.25 r.5 was itself ultra vires.
99 CPR 40.20.
Commercial and Industrial Bank v British Bank of Foreign Trade Ltd [1921] 2
A.C. 438 at 445.
101 Pyx Granite Co Ltd v Ministry of Housing and Local Government [1958] 1
Q.B. 554 CA at 571; Ibeneweka v Egbuna [1964] 1 W.L.R. 219 at 224.
102 Hall and Co Ltd v Shoreham-by-Sea UDC [1964] 1 W.L.R. 240 CA;
Congreve v Home Office [1976] Q.B. 629 CA (Civ Div).
103 Nicholls v Tavistock UDC [1923] 2 Ch. 18 Ch D; Brownsea Haven
Properties Ltd v Poole Corp [1958] Ch. 574 CA.
104 R. v Secretary of State for Employment, Ex p. Equal Opportunities
Commission [1995] 1 A.C. 1 HL.
105 Eastham v Newcastle United Football Club Ltd [1964] Ch. 413 Ch D; Nagle
v Feilden [1966] 2 Q.B. 633 CA; Bucknell & Son Ltd v Croydon LBC [1973] 1
W.L.R. 534 QBD; Racal Communications Ltd v Pay Board [1974] 1 W.L.R.
1149 Ch D.
106 Sadler v Sheffield Corp [1924] 1 Ch. 483 Ch D; Ridge v Baldwin [1964] A.C.
40 HL.
107 Nyali v Attorney General [1957] A.C. 253 HL.
108 Attorney General v St Ives RDC [1961] 1 Q.B. 366 CA; Human Fertilisation
& Embryology Authority v Amicus Healthcare Ltd [2005] EWHC 1092 (Admin).
109 Mullins v McFarlane [2006] EWHC 986 (QB).
119 Pyx Granite [1960] A.C. 260 at 286−287, 290, 302, 304.
121 These factors influenced the court in the Pyx Granite case [1960] A.C. 260.
See also, Ealing LBC v Race Relations Board [1972] A.C. 342 HL.
122 Roberts [2004] EWCA Civ 940; Autologic Holdings [2006] 1 A.C. 118;
Opinions” (1985) 101 L.Q.R. 587; J. Beatson, “Prematurity and Ripeness for
Review”, in C. Forsyth and I. Hare (eds), The Golden Metwand and the Crooked
Cord, Essays on Public Law in Honour of Sir William Wade (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1998), pp.221−252.
126 Re Clay [1919] 1 Ch. 66 at 78−79.
129 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Mehari [1994] Q.B.
474 DC at 491; R. v Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food, Ex p. Live
Sheep Traders Ltd [1995] C.O.D. 297; Sir J. Laws, “Judicial Remedies and the
Constitution” (1994) 57 M.L.R. 213.
130 Sir H. Woolf, Protection of the Public—A New Challenge (London: Sweet &
Harbour Acts, Re [1937] Ch. 72; Re Barnato [1949] Ch. 258 CA; Lever Brothers
& Unilever Ltd v Manchester Ship Canal Co (1945) 78 Ll. L.R. 507; R. v
Personal Investments Authority Ombudsman, Ex p. Burns Anderson Independent
Network Plc [1997] C.O.D. 379 CA (Civ Div); R. (Robinson) v Torridge DC
[2007] 1 W.L.R. 871 QBD; R. (Yalland) v Secretary of State for Exiting the
European Union [2017] EWHC 630 (Admin); R. (Gill) v Cabinet Office [2019]
EWHC 3407 (Admin).
134 Ruislip-Northwood UDC v Lee (1931) 145 L.T. 208 at 214, 215.
135 Everett v Ryder (1926) 135 L.T. 302; Whyte, Ridsdale & Co Ltd v Attorney
General [1927] 1 Ch. 548 Ch D; Harrison v Croydon LBC [1968] Ch. 479 Ch D;
Howard v Pickford Tool Co [1951] K.B. 417.
136 R. v Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Pollution, Ex p. Chapman [1996] C.O.D.
154 QBD; MD v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2011] EWCA Civ
453.
137 R. v Head Teacher and Governors of Fairfield Primary School and
Hampshire CC, Ex p. W [1998] C.O.D. 106.
138 Live Sheep Traders Ltd [1995] C.O.D. 297.
139 Eastham v Newcastle United Football Club Ltd [1964] Ch. 413 Ch D; West
Ham Corp v Sharp [1907] 1 K.B. 445 KBD; R. v Secretary of State for the Home
Department, Ex p. Abdi [1996] 1 W.L.R. 298 HL.
140 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Salem [1999] 1 A.C.
450 HL at 456−457.
141 R. (Anufrijeva) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2004] 1 A.C.
604 HL.
142 R. (Zoolife International Ltd) v Secretary of State for the Environment, Food
and Rural Affairs [2007] EWHC 2995 (Admin); R. (Raw) v Lambeth LBC
[2010] EWHC 507 (Admin); PO (Nigeria) v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2011] EWCA Civ 132; Hutcheson v Popdog Ltd [2012] 1 W.L.R.
782 SC at [15]; Hamnett v Essex CC [2017] 1 W.L.R. 1155 CA (Civ Div) at
[37]; Rehoune v Islington LBC [2019] EWCA Civ 2142 at [18]–[19]; R.
(Liverpool Open and Green Spaces Community Interest Co) v Liverpool City
Council [2020] EWCA Civ 861 at [6].
143 Coney v Choyce [1975] 1 W.L.R. 422 Ch D at 436−437; Maerkle v British
and Continental Fur Co Ltd [1954] 1 W.L.R. 1242 CA; Attorney General v
Colchester Corp [1955] 2 Q.B. 207 QBD.
144 See Ch.30; Anns v Merton LBC [1978] A.C. 728 HL; Rowling v Takaro
165 Gouriet [1978] A.C. 435; Barrs v Bethell [1982] Ch. 294 Ch D.
168 American Cyanamid Co v Ethicon Ltd [1975] A.C. 396 HL; R. v Secretary of
State for Transport, Ex p. Factortame (No.2) [1991] 1 A.C. 603 HL; Douglas v
Hello! Ltd (No.1) [2001] Q.B. 967 CA (Civ Div); J. Martin, “Interlocutory
Injunctions: American Cyanamid Comes of Age” (1993−94) King’s Coll. L.J.
52.
169 Factortame (No.2) [1991] 1 A.C. 603.
170 R. (Medical Justice) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2010]
Newspapers Ltd [2005] Q.B. 972 CA (Civ Div); R. (Newby Foods Ltd) v Food
Standards Agency [2013] EWHC 2132 (Admin).
172 Broadbent v Rotherham Corp [1917] 2 Ch. 31 Ch D.
173 Pride of Derby and Derbyshire Angling Association Ltd v British Celanese
Ltd [1953] Ch. 149 CA.
174 Bradbury [1967] 1 W.L.R. 1311.
(Civ Div); South Buckinghamshire DC v Porter (No.1) [2003] 2 A.C. 558 HL.
177 Attorney General v Manchester Corp [1906] 1 Ch. 643 Ch D; Attorney
General v Fulham Corp [1921] 1 Ch. 440 Ch D.
178 Attorney General v Smith [1958] 2 Q.B. 173 QBD; Attorney General v
Chaudry [1971] 1 W.L.R. 1614 CA (Civ Div). See Ch.24.
179 P. Craig, “Parliamentary Sovereignty after Factortame” (1991) 11 Y.B.E.L.
221.
180 de Smith, Judicial Review of Administrative Action (1980), pp.465−466; de
Smith, Woolf and Jowell, Judicial Review of Administrative Action, 5th edn
(London: Sweet & Maxwell, 1995), pp.725−726.
181 Bilston Corp v Wolverhampton Corp [1942] Ch. 391 Ch D. However, in
Attorney General v London and Home Counties Joint Electricity Authority
[1929] 1 Ch. 513 Ch D, it was accepted that the Attorney General could have an
injunction to prevent unauthorised expenditure of corporate funds to promote a
bill.
182 Harper v Home Secretary [1955] Ch. 238 CA; Nottinghamshire CC v
Secretary of State for the Environment [1986] A.C. 240 HL. See, however,
Hoffman-La Roche & Co AG v Secretary of State for Trade and Industry [1975]
A.C. 295 HL.
183 Bradlaugh v Gossett (1884) 12 Q.B.D 271.
(Civ Div).
185 Factortame (No.2) [1991] 1 A.C. 603.
188 See, e.g. Local Government Act 1972 s.92 applies to challenges to the
191 Pride of Derby [1953] Ch. 149; Bradbury [1967] 1 W.L.R. 1311.
196 Supreme Court of Judicature Act 1873 s.25(8); Senior Courts Act 1981 s.37.
199 R. Sharpe, The Law of Habeas Corpus, 2nd edn (Oxford: Clarendon, 1989);
203 Armah [1968] A.C. 192; Knowles v Government of the United States of
America [2007] 1 W.L.R. 47 at [14]; Gibson v The Government of the United
States of America [2007] UKPC 52 at [18]; R. v Board of Control, Ex p. Rutty
[1956] 2 Q.B. 109 DC.
204 Rubinstein, Jurisdiction and Illegality (1965), p.115.
878 DC.
206 Rahmatullah v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
[2012] UKSC 48; Kaitey v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2020]
EWHC 1861 (Admin); Pommel v Crown Prosecution Service [2020] EWHC
2074.
207 R. v Governor of Pentonville Prison, Ex p. Osman [1990] 1 W.L.R. 277
QBD.
208 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Cheblak [1991] 1
W.L.R. 890 CA (Civ Div); R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex
p. Muboyayi [1992] Q.B. 244 CA (Civ Div); Re S-C (Mental Patient) [1996]
Q.B. 599 CA (Civ Div); R. v Stoke-on-Trent Justices, Ex p. Cawley [1996]
C.O.D. 292 DC; Re Rahman [1996] C.O.D. 465 QBD.
209 MB v The Managers of Warley Hospital, 30 July 1998; R. v BHB Community
Healthcare NHS Trust, Ex p. B [1999] 1 F.L.R. 106 CA (Civ Div); R. v Leeds
Crown Court, Ex p. Hunt [1999] 1 W.L.R. 841 DC; Sheikh v Secretary of State
for the Home Department [2001] A.C.D 33 CA (Civ Div); Sir S. Brown,
“Habeas Corpus—A New Chapter” [2000] P.L. 31.
210 Lord Chancellor’s Department Consultation Paper, The Administrative
Court: Proposed Changes to Primary Legislation following Sir Jeffrey
Bowman’s Review of the Crown Office List (2001), paras 3−10.
211 See, however, Rahmatullah [2012] UKSC 48, where the SC emphasised the
of Rochester v Bridges (1831) 1 B. & Ad. 847; Bradbury [1967] 1 W.L.R. 1311;
Wood v Ealing LBC [1967] Ch. 364 Ch D; Southwark LBC v Williams [1971]
Ch. 734 CA (Civ Div).
213 Meade v Haringey LBC [1979] 1 W.L.R. 637 CA (Civ Div).
217 Asher v Secretary of State for the Environment [1974] Ch. 208 CA (Civ Div).
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
27–001 i. The range of remedies available to a claimant described in the
previous chapter was always a mixed blessing. The principal
remedies of certiorari and declaration had advantages and
disadvantages.
ii. Certiorari could apply to all types of error, the standing rules were
relatively wide and interim relief was available. Its disadvantages
included the impossibility of combining certiorari with a damages
action, a relatively short time limit, and the difficulty of
adjudicating on fact.
iii. The declaration was meant to be the shining white charger cutting
through outmoded limitations encrusted on the prerogative
orders,1 and so it might have been. It was unencumbered by the
limitations mentioned above and its dual capacity as supervisory
and original remedy gave it added flexibility. It could be
combined with other claims for relief, was not subject to a short
time limit, and there could be full discovery. The promise that
declaration might bloom into a general remedy, with the
prerogative orders being left to atrophy from lack of use, did not
however come to pass. It was thought that no interim declaration
could be granted, there were question marks surrounding the
availability of declaration for non-jurisdictional error of law, and
the standing criteria, as laid down in the Gouriet case,2 were
restrictive.
iv. The preceding complexity led to reform of remedies, preceded by
Law Commission reports. The core of the procedure is now
termed the claim for judicial review. This is the mechanism by
which a range of remedies can be claimed against a public body.
The reforms introduced in the 1970s removed some complexities
from the previous law. It nonetheless brought new difficulties into
the law, two of which are especially significant.
v. First, the courts construed the new procedure as prima facie
exclusive, in the sense that claims against public bodies would
have to proceed via the new procedure. This was because the
procedure contained protections for public bodies: the claimant
had to secure permission before seeking judicial review, and there
were short time limits. It was felt that it would be an abuse of
process for a claimant to avoid these safeguards by proceeding
outside the new procedure. The courts nonetheless created
exceptions to this prima facie exclusivity, the scope and
application of which gave rise to much case law.
vi. Secondly, some claimants sought to bring their case within the
new procedure, because the remedy would be better than they
would otherwise secure, or there was doubt as to whether they
would be able to secure another remedy. The courts therefore had
to decide whether the case was “sufficiently public” to warrant
recourse to public law procedures.
D. O’Reilly v Mackman
27–005 The application for judicial review must be read in the light of the
decision in O’Reilly v Mackman.28 This case limited the circumstances
in which a declaration or an injunction in a public law case could be
sought outside the Senior Courts Act 1981 s.31. Lord Diplock gave
judgment for the House of Lords, and reasoned as follows. The
prerogative orders had, prior to the reforms, been subject to
limitations. There was no right to discovery, damages could not be
claimed in conjunction with the orders and cross-examination upon
affidavits occurred very rarely if at all. These limitations justified the
use of the declaration under Ord.15 r.16. However, the reformed
Ord.53 had removed these defects by providing for discovery,
allowing damages to be claimed, and making provision for cross-
examination. The reformed procedure also provided important
safeguards for the public body, including the requirement of leave to
bring the case and a time limit short enough so that the public body
would not be kept in suspense as to the validity of its actions. It would
therefore normally be an abuse of process to seek a declaration outside
of s.31.
Two exceptions were mentioned: certain types of collateral attack
and cases where none of the parties objected to a remedy being sought
outside s.31. The possibility that other exceptions might exist was left
open. Lord Diplock also felt that within s.31 the prerogative orders
should be the main remedies. The declaration was seen as useful,
while the prerogative orders were unduly limited. Now that the latter
had been liberated from their constraints, they should assume pride of
place within s.31. When the sole aim was to quash a decision,
certiorari and not declaration should be used.
The decision in O’Reilly raised a number of important questions.
First, what are the exceptions to O’Reilly: how do you “get out” of the
judicial procedure? Secondly, how public must a case be to be brought
within the judicial review procedure: how do you “get into” this
procedure? Finally, do we need a separate procedure for judicial
review cases?
G. Summary
27–015 It might be helpful to summarise the law and to state when an
individual will be allowed to proceed by an ordinary action outside
s.31:
i. The courts will only insist that a case must be brought via the
judicial review procedure if the primary aim is to challenge a
public law act or decision.60
ii. A civil case can be brought outside s.31 where the individual
seeks to establish private rights, even if this requires an
examination of the validity of the public law decision.
iii. A defendant in a civil case can challenge a public law decision in
the course of defending the private law action. It is not certain
whether it suffices to be the defendant, or whether the defendant
must also be able to assert that their rights are being infringed.
Some cases have emphasised the first of these factors, without
inquiring too closely whether the individual had private rights
affected, or what the precise nature of these rights were.61 Other
cases suggested that an individual should have some private right
to be able to raise the invalidity of a public body’s action by way
of defence in an ordinary action outside s.31.62 However, the
formulation by Lord Steyn
in Boddington indicated that being a defendant was sufficient in
itself, and this approach has been followed in later cases.63
iv A defendant in a criminal case will normally be able to raise the
invalidity of the subordinate legislation or order on which the
prosecution is based by way of defence to the criminal charge,
unless there is a clear indication from the relevant statute that
such a challenge can only be made via judicial review.
v. A person may be able to proceed outside s.31 even where no
private rights are present, if the court decides that to do so is not
an abuse of process.
vi. In cases of doubt, the advice of Lord Woolf64 was that the action
should be brought by way of judicial review. If the matter was
raised in an ordinary action and there was an application to strike
out the case on the ground that it should have been brought by
way of judicial review, it was open to the court to consider
whether leave would have been granted under the s.31 procedure.
If the answer was in the affirmative, then this was a good
indication that the ordinary action should not be struck out.
vii. The degree of difference between bringing an ordinary civil
action and a claim for judicial review has diminished under the
CPR, as interpreted in Clark.65 The court read the CPR to provide
some protection for public bodies even in ordinary civil actions,
thereby diminishing to some extent the incentive to proceed
outside the judicial review procedure.
H. Assessment
27–016 The approach in Roy, Boddington, Mercury and other cases has limited
the force of O’Reilly.66 The principle of presumptive exclusivity in
O’Reilly was based on the assumption that public bodies warranted the
protections of narrow time limits and leave, or permission as it is now
known, and that these protections should not be circumvented by
allowing applicants to proceed through a different action. The
reasoning in later cases indirectly undermined this assumption in two
ways, one practical, the other conceptual.
It undermined that principle in practical terms simply because
there are fewer cases to which the public body protections apply. They
do not apply in cases concerning private rights, or in the other
instances set out above. The term “private right” is, moreover, a
malleable one. This is exemplified by Roy, in which the House of
Lords gave a broad construction to “private rights”, without too nice
an inquiry as to the nature of the rights possessed by the applicant. The
very determination of whether a right should be characterised as a
private, as
opposed to a public right, and whether it can be viewed as distinctive
from a “public law” issue which the case raises, is not resolvable by
some mechanical formula.67
The conceptual foundation of O’Reilly was also weakened by later
decisions. The premise behind the post-O’Reilly jurisprudence is that
protections for the public body, in terms of time limits and leave, are
overridden when an individual asserts private rights against a public
body, and that this is so even if the case involves public law issues. It
is clear that even where a case concerns private rights it would be
mistaken to believe that it is principally about private rights, as
opposed to public law. This can be easily demonstrated. A public body
makes a demolition order on the claimant’s property which is said to
be ultra vires.68 The claimant brings an action in trespass. The action
involves a private right, but the action is not solely “about” private
rights. Whether the claimant wins in the trespass action will be
dependent on the validity of the demolition order. This will be the
issue in the case, and it is manifestly a public law matter, the
resolution of which depends on construction of the legislation. The
consequence of this finding will determine whether the claimant can
succeed in the tort claim, and in that sense vindicate their private
rights, but this does not mean that the case is principally about private
rights.69
27–017 The reality is that the courts are ambivalent about the principle in
O’Reilly. They wish to preserve the protections in s.31, in terms of
short time limits and permission. There is also a recurring theme in the
case law that the hurdles created by O’Reilly are merely technical and
legalistic, using those terms in a pejorative sense. Judges referred to
the complexity of the law in this area and compared it to the forms of
action in the 19th century,70 or to the difficulties in civil law systems
based on the public/private divide.71 The corollary was that it really
did not matter too much whether individuals were allowed to proceed
outside s.31.
The Clark decision72 is important in this respect. The premise
underlying the case was that the differences between ordinary actions
and those for judicial review should be minimised. It recognised that
an action involving private rights may well involve public law issues.
The civil procedure rules on ordinary civil actions were interpreted to
allow protection for public bodies, so as to stop hopeless actions and
modify the time in which they must be brought. Clark therefore
accepted that cases involving private rights could proceed by ordinary
action, as opposed to judicial review, but sought to diminish the
incentives for doing so. These incentives, although diminished,
nonetheless still exist. In a judicial review action the claimant must
still seek permission to proceed, and the time limit is three months. In
an ordinary action, even as interpreted by Clark, it will be for the
defendant to establish that the case should be stopped because it has no
prospect of success. It will also be for the defendant to convince the
court that bringing the action within, for example, 18 months,
constituted an abuse of process, even though it was well within the
limitation period.
A third factor that has influenced the courts is that if these bodies are
deemed to fall within public law it would be difficult to decide where
to stop. Thus, Rose J reflected that if the FA were sufficiently public
for judicial review, then so too would the governing authorities of
other sports.129 It was then difficult to see why the exercise of power
by private corporate undertakings with a monopolistic position should
not be subject to public law.130 This led to concerns about the courts’
capacity to deal with this material without becoming “even more
swamped with applications than they are already”.131
Commentators differ as to the cogency of these reasons. Pannick
has argued that the exercise of monopolistic power should bring bodies
within the ambit of judicial review. To speak of a consensual
foundation for a body’s power is largely beside the point where those
who wish to partake in the activity have no realistic choice but to
accept that power.132 Black has argued that the emphasis given to the
contractual foundations for a body’s power as the reason for
withholding review is misplaced. She contends that the courts are
confusing contract as an instrument of economic exchange, with
contract as a regulatory instrument.133 Black argues further that the
reliance placed on private law controls, such as restraint of trade and
competition law, may be misplaced here. Such controls are designed
for the regulation of economic activity in the market place, and they
may not be best suited to control potential abuse of regulatory power
itself.134
J. Future Prospects
27–037 It remains to be seen how far the courts will be willing to take the
scope of judicial review. The reservations of some judges have been
noted above. Others advocate a broader approach. Thus, Lord Woolf
would, it seems, extend review to cover all bodies that exercise
authority over another person or body in such a manner as to cause
material prejudice to that person or body. These controls could, in
principle, apply to bodies exercising power over sport and religion.149
If the scope of review is extended thus far, then careful attention
must be given to whether the procedural and substantive norms applied
against traditional public bodies should also be applied against private
bodies. Many cases considered within this section were concerned
with the application of procedural norms. If we were to follow Lord
Woolf’s suggestion then we would also have to consider whether
substantive public law should be applied to such bodies.
We would then have to decide whether sporting bodies with
monopoly power or large companies with similar power, should take
account of all relevant considerations before deciding on a course of
action, and whether their actions should be subject to proportionality.
This would be a significant change to say the very least, and have
ramifications for subjects such as company law, commercial law and
contract. It would increase the courts’ judicial review case load. It
would involve difficult questions as to how such substantive public
law principles fit with accepted doctrines of private law. This is not to
deny that similar broad principles can operate within the public and
private spheres.150 It is to argue that
the broader the reach of “public law”, the more nuanced we would
have to be about the application of public law principles to those
bodies brought within the ambit of judicial review.151
The courts could alternatively insist, as they have done, that s.31 is
presumptively exclusive for public law cases, with all the attendant
problems this has entailed.
A. Permission: Rationale
27–040 The central issue is therefore whether we should retain the protection
for public bodies in the form of permission, which has only been
required since 1933.154 Two senses of “protection” should be
distinguished.
It could be argued that public bodies must be protected from
vexatious litigants and that permission achieves this. This argument is
suspect. The vexatious litigant appears to be a hypothetical rather than
a real problem. In so far as this spectre assumes a solid form the
problem can be solved by adequate provisions as to costs.155 The case
law and literature on the declaration and injunction prior to 1977
contains no evidence that this was a problem, even though there was
no permission requirement, and evidence about the reformed
procedure indicates that the frivolous nature of the application is a
very rare ground for refusing permission.156
It could alternatively be argued that public bodies must be
protected in a broader sense. The argument is that public bodies exist
to perform public duties, which are for the benefit of the general
public. In deciding whether an action should proceed this wider public
interest must be taken into account, as well as that of the applicant,
because the public has an interest in seeing that litigation does not
unduly hamper the governmental process.157 A corollary is that the
permission requirement exists to protect public bodies from applicants
who do not have a chance of winning their case. It is a screening
mechanism to prevent the public body from being troubled by cases
that are unlikely to succeed.
A crucial issue concerns the test to be applied at the permission
stage. There are indications that the test applied by the courts has
become stricter over time.158 Thus the early approach was to refuse
leave only in cases that were hopeless or wholly unarguable.159
Relatively few such cases are likely to exist.160 However, the test has
become stricter, such that the claimant will only be granted
permission if the case really was arguable. Thus, judges should refuse
permission where they believe that there is no reasonable chance of
success, or that the case is not reasonably arguable.161 This
formulation will inevitably enable more cases to be disposed of at the
permission stage. To refuse permission because the judge believes that
the applicant did not have a reasonable chance of success, or some
similar test, is nonetheless problematic. The judge will be making a
difficult evaluation on fact and law and this evaluation will, after the
CPR, be based on written documentation. As Megarry J has stated,
albeit in a different context, the law is full of cases which appeared to
be open and shut, but which turned out not to be so straightforward.162
D. Permission: Conclusion
27–045 It was argued prior to the new CPR that suitable techniques for
protecting public bodies in ordinary actions could be devised when
such protection was warranted. These could take the form of expedited
procedures and dismissal of the claim on the ground of undue delay.
This choice was favoured by many academics181 and it has been
argued that the changes enshrined in the CPR relating to striking out
and summary judgment could be used to protect public bodies, even if
separate public law procedures were abolished.182 Many among the
judiciary and government remained convinced that these protections
were nonetheless necessary, particularly in the light of the increase in
the number of applications for judicial review. It was felt that the
ordinary procedures would be too cumbersome for most judicial
review applications.183 There is no doubt that the CPR have narrowed
the differences between the judicial review procedure and that in
ordinary actions. The former has become more inter partes, and to that
extent more like an ordinary action. The latter are now subject to
greater judicial control pursuant to the general strategy behind the
Woolf reforms. There are nonetheless still real differences between the
two forms of procedure.
The Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007 is relevant here.
It was based on the recommendations of the Leggatt Report184 on
tribunals. It is clear that those who favour the retention of the
permission requirement are influenced in part by the case load on
judicial review in the ordinary courts. The Tribunals,
Courts and Enforcement Act 2007 should alleviate this problem. First-
tier Tribunal decisions are subject to a right of appeal on law to the
Upper Tribunal, and then, subject to certain limits, to the Court of
Appeal.185 The Act also makes provision for the Upper Tribunal to
exercise judicial review powers, and enables the High Court to transfer
a judicial review case to an Upper Tribunal.186
11. PROCEDURE
A. Permission
27–053 A claimant must seek permission to apply for judicial review, CPR
54.4, and the application must be made promptly and in any event
within three months after the grounds for making it first arose, CPR
54.5. The court has powerful weapons to deter vexatious litigants.233
The claim for judicial review is made using the CPR 8 claim form,
which must in addition to the usual requirements state the following
information, CPR 54.6. The claimant must give the name and address
of any person considered to be an interested party. The claimant must
state that they are requesting permission to seek judicial review, and
the remedy being claimed.234 Where the claimant is raising a point
under the HRA, they must specify the Convention right alleged to have
been infringed. A Practice Direction issued pursuant to CPR 54
stipulates that the claim form must also state, or be accompanied by, a
detailed statement of the claimant’s grounds for bringing the claim, a
statement of the facts relied on, copies of documents relied on by the
claimant, relevant statutory material, and a copy of any order that the
claimant seeks to have quashed.235
The claim form must be served on the defendant and other
interested parties within seven days of the date of issue, CPR 54.7. If a
person served with the claim form wishes to take part in the judicial
review proceedings, they must
acknowledge service within 21 days of being served, CPR 54.8(2)(a).
This acknowledgement must be served on the claimant and any other
person named in the claim form, CPR 54.8(2)(b). The
acknowledgement must state whether the person intends to contest the
claim, the grounds for doing so, and give the names and addresses of
any other person considered to be an interested party, CPR 54.8(4). A
person who fails to file an acknowledgement is not allowed to take
part in the permission hearing, unless the court allows him to do so,
CPR 54.9(1). There is provision for urgent cases.236
The criterion that applies to the grant of permission has been
considered above.237 Permission will not be granted unless the
applicant has a sufficient interest in the matter to which the application
relates.238 Where permission is given the court may give directions,
which may include a stay of the proceedings to which the claim
relates, CPR 54.10. Permission decisions will often be made without a
hearing. The court must provide reasons for its decision, CPR
54.12(2). A claimant that is refused permission without a hearing may
not appeal, but may request, within seven days, for the decision to be
reconsidered at a hearing, CPR 54.12(3). It is not however open to the
defendant or any other person served with the claim form to apply to
have the permission set aside, CPR 54.13. Where permission has been
refused after a hearing, the claimant may apply to the Court of Appeal
for permission to appeal, which may, instead of giving permission to
appeal, give permission for judicial review, CPR 52.8(5). The case will
then be heard in the High Court unless the Court of Appeal indicates to
the contrary, CPR 52.8(6).
The issue is now regulated through CPR 31, which deals with
disclosure and inspection of documents. An order for disclosure is,
unless the court otherwise directs, an order to give standard
disclosure.253 It is open to the court to dispense with or limit standard
disclosure,254 and the Practice Direction made pursuant to CPR 54
states that disclosure in judicial review is not required unless the court
orders otherwise.255 Where a court does make such an order it requires
a party to disclose the documents on which it relies, and the documents
which adversely affect its own or another party’s, case, or support
another party’s case, and such documents which it is required to
disclose by a relevant practice direction.256 The
court is also empowered to make an order for specific disclosure or
specific inspection, requiring the party to disclose those documents
specified in the order.257
27–057 The House of Lords’ decision in Tweed is important concerning
disclosure.258 The claimant sought judicial review of a decision
placing restrictions on a parade in Northern Ireland, on the ground that
it infringed his rights to assembly and free speech protected by the
HRA 1998. He sought disclosure of documents referred to in an
affidavit sworn by the chairman of the Parades Commission, which
made the decision. Their Lordships acknowledged that disclosure had
been ordered less readily in judicial review cases than in ordinary
actions, in part because judicial review cases often turned on issues of
law rather than fact.
They held that disclosure would, however, be more necessary in
judicial review cases raising issues of proportionality. This was so
here, since the decision of the Parades Commission that imposed
restrictions on Convention rights had to be proportionate. The
disclosure of documents referred to in affidavits would not, however,
always take place where proportionality was in issue. The
proportionality issue formed part of the context in which the court had
to consider whether it was necessary for fairly disposing of the case to
order the disclosure of such documents. It did not give rise
automatically to the need for disclosure of all documents. Whether
disclosure should be ordered would depend on a balancing of several
factors, of which proportionality was only one, albeit one of some
significance. In cases involving issues of proportionality, disclosure
should be carefully limited to the issues required in the interests of
justice.
Their Lordships also modified the previous practice concerning
disclosure and general judicial review actions. The House of Lords
held that disclosure would only be necessary in limited cases, but that
it was no longer the rule that disclosure would only be ordered where
the decision-maker’s affidavit could be shown to be materially
inaccurate or misleading and the courts should now adopt a more
flexible, less prescriptive approach and judge the need for disclosure
on the facts of the individual case to see whether it was required to
resolve the matter fairly and justly.259 This liberalisation has been
embraced in some later cases, which have ordered disclosure where it
was necessary to dispose of the matter fairly and justly.260
27–058 A reason why the rules on disclosure are more qualified in their
application in judicial review cases is because public bodies are
subject to a duty of candour and cooperation that does not apply in
ordinary civil litigation. The duty derives from Lord Donaldson MR’s
judgment in Huddleston. The public authority may resist the claim, but
it must do so with “all the cards face upwards on the table and the
vast majority of the cards will start in the authority’s hands”.261 It is a
self-policing duty, but there is an obligation on lawyers acting for
public authorities “to assist the court in ensuring that these high duties
on public authorities are fulfilled”.262 It is also in some respects more
demanding, since while disclosure might be satisfied by giving
documentation to the claimant, the duty of candour and co-operation
requires public authorities “to assist the court with full and accurate
explanations of all the facts relevant to the issues which the court must
decide”.263 This in turn is predicated on the normative assumption that
public authorities are engaged in a “common enterprise with the court
to fulfil the public interest in upholding the rule of law”.264
There are also some decisions showing a greater willingness to
order cross-examination in judicial review proceedings. Thus in
Wilkinson265 the Court of Appeal held that cross-examination should
be ordered where there was a challenge to a decision to administer
medical treatment to a patient in judicial review proceedings. The
court would have to form its own view as to whether the treatment
infringed the applicant’s human rights, and cross-examination would
be required in order to do this where there were disputed questions of
fact. This decision must however be seen in the light of the ruling by
the Court of Appeal in N.266 It held that it should not often be
necessary to adduce oral evidence with cross-examination where there
are disputed issues of fact and opinion in cases where the need for
forcible medical treatment of a patient is being challenged on human
rights grounds, and that Wilkinson should not be regarded as a charter
for routine applications to the court for oral evidence in human rights
cases generally. Much would depend on the nature of the right that had
allegedly been breached and the nature of the alleged breach. A very
cautionary approach to the possibility of cross-examination is also
evident in Bubb.267
C. Conclusion
27–063 The courts have been mindful not to usurp Parliament’s choice where
it has established a special statutory mechanism to adjudicate on a
particular issue. The assumption that litigants must use available
statutory machinery has been influenced by the courts’ desire to
control the case load on judicial review. Specialised statutory appeal
mechanisms may, in addition, be better suited to resolving complex
issues of fact, and may possess expertise in the relevant area. These are
sensible considerations for the courts to take into account. However, as
the Law Commission stated,298 there may well be advantages in
determining the effect of alternative remedies at the permission stage.
13. CONCLUSION
27–064 There will be no attempt to summarise the discussion in this and the
previous chapter concerning remedies. Cane has rightly pointed out
that the way in which we think about remedies in public law should
not however, be taken for granted. The claimant is presently required
to choose from the range of remedies on offer. The applicant cannot
come to court, state the desired object and then ask the court to select a
remedy to achieve this end299:
“Just as, under the modern system of pleading, claimants plead facts and ask the court to
recognise those facts as giving rise to a cause of action in law, so public law claimants
should be free to specify the result they want to achieve by their claim and ask the court to
provide an appropriate remedy. A claimant should not be required to specify which remedy
is sought; rather it should be for the court to decide if a remedy is available to achieve the
claimant’s desired end.”
3 Law Commission No.20 (1969), Cmnd 4059; Law Commission Working Paper
5 SI 2000/1980.
6 The change was brought about by the Constitutional Reform Act 2005
Sch.11(1) para.1.
7 C. Lewis, Judicial Remedies in Public Law, 5th edn (London: Sweet &
Maxwell, 2015).
8 Lord Woolf, Access to Justice: The Final Report to the Lord Chancellor on the
Civil Justice System in England and Wales (1997); SI 3132/1998.
9 Review of the Crown Office List (LCD, 2000); Lord Chancellor’s Department
Consultation Paper, The Administrative Court: Proposed Changes to Primary
Legislation following Sir Jeffrey Bowman’s Review of the Crown Office List
(2001).
10 SI 2092/2000; M. Fordham, “Judicial Review: The New Rules” [2001] P.L. 4;
T. Cornford and M. Sunkin, “The Bowman Report, Access and the Recent
Reforms of the Judicial Review Procedure” [2001] P.L. 11.
11 See paras 27–053 to 27–059.
16 Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007 s.19, inserting s.31A into the
Senior Courts Act 1981.
17 Senior Courts Act 1981 s.31(1).
30−31.
21 These are the new names for mandamus, prohibition and certiorari, Senior
HL at 1027.
30 O’Reilly [1983] 2 A.C. 237; R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department,
Ex p. Khawaja [1984] A.C. 74 HL; Air Canada v Secretary of State for Trade
(No.2) [1983] 2 A.C. 394 HL; Lonrho Plc v Tebbit [1992] 4 All E.R. 280 CA
(Civ Div); R. v Inland Revenue Commissioners, Ex p. Taylor [1989] 1 All E.R.
906, CA (Civ Div); R. v Secretary of State for the Environment, Ex p. Doncaster
BC [1990] C.O.D. 441; R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p.
BH [1990] C.O.D. 445; R. v Secretary of State for Education, Ex p. J [1993]
C.O.D. 146; R. v Secretary of State for Transport, Ex p. APH Road Safety Ltd
[1993] C.O.D. 150 QBD; R. v Secretary of State for Health, Ex p. Hackney LBC
[1994] C.O.D. 432 QBD; R. v Arts Council of England, Ex p. Women’s
Playhouse Trust [1998] C.O.D. 175 QBD.
31 Sir H. Woolf, “Public Law–Private Law: Why the Divide? A Personal View”
[1986] P.L. 220, 229, 231.
32 Tweed v Parades Commission for Northern Ireland [2007] 1 A.C. 650 HL.
42 Lonrho Plc v Tebbit [1991] 4 All E.R. 973 Ch D; [1992] 4 All E.R 280;
Trustees of the Dennis Rye Pension Fund v Sheffield CC [1998] 1 W.L.R. 840
CA (Civ Div); British Steel Plc v Customs and Excise Commissioners [1997] 2
All E.R. 366 CA (Civ Div); Bunney v Burns Anderson Plc [2007] EWHC 1240
(Ch).
43 Boddington v British Transport Police [1999] 2 A.C. 143 HL.
45 Lord Steyn referred to Roy [1992] 1 A.C. 624; Winder [1985] A.C. 461; Chief
51 There could, on the one hand, be cases where the statute required the
prosecution to prove that the contested act was not open to challenge on any
ground available in public law, or where it might be a defence to show that it
was open to challenge in that way. In such cases it would be for the court before
which the prosecution was brought to rule on the validity of the act. There could,
on the other hand, be cases where the statute on its true construction merely
required that the act which had been done under statutory authority appeared to
be formally valid and had not been quashed by judicial review. In this latter type
of case, only the formal validity of the act was of relevance to an issue before the
court in a prosecution.
52 P. Craig, “Proceeding Outside Order 53: A Modified Test?” (1996) 112
L.Q.R. 531.
53 Mercury [1996] 1 W.L.R. 48.
60 Jones v Powys Local Health Board [2008] EWHC 2562 (Admin); Trim v
North Dorset DC [2011] 1 W.L.R. 1901 CA (Civ Div); R. (Townsend) v
Secretary of State for Works and Pensions [2011] EWHC 3434 (Admin) are
examples where the courts insisted that the public law procedure should be used.
61 West Glamorgan CC v Rafferty [1987] 1 W.L.R. 457 CA (Civ Div); R. v
Crown Court at Reading, Ex p. Hutchinson [1987] 3 W.L.R. 1062 QBD.
62 Waverley BC v Hilden [1988] 1 W.L.R. 246 Ch D; Avon CC v Buscott [1988]
2 W.L.R. 788 CA (Civ Div).
63 Boddington [1999] 2 A.C. 143 at 172−173; Bunney v Burns Anderson Plc
[2007] EWHC 1240 (Ch); R. (WL (Congo)) v Secretary of State for the Home
Department [2011] 2 W.L.R. 671 SC at [70].
64 Dennis Rye Pension Fund [1998] 1 W.L.R. 840.
“Public Law−Private Law: Why the Divide? A Personal View” [1986] P.L. 220,
233−236. Compare J. Beatson, “‘Public’ and ‘Private’ in English Administrative
Law” (1987) 103 L.Q.R. 34, 59−61; (b) the reasoning in Gillick v West Norfolk
and Wisbech Area Health Authority [1986] A.C. 112 HL at 163, 177−178.
68 Cooper v Wandsworth Board of Works (1863) 14 C.B. (N.S.) 180.
69 This point applies equally to Roy [1992] 1 A.C. 624. The case involved
private rights, arising from Roy’s relationship with the Family Practitioner
Committee and the fact that he was seeking a contract-type remedy. However,
the case also raised general public law matters. The committee had statutory
powers to allocate fees derived from public funds. Whether Roy won on the
substance of the case turned on the construction of the statutory norms, in order
to determine what it meant to say that a doctor must devote a substantial amount
of his time to NHS work.
70 Doyle v Northumbria Probation Committee [1991] 4 All E.R. 294 at 300.
L.Q.R. 34; P. Cane, “Public Law and Private Law: A Study of the Analysis of
and Use of a Legal Concept”, in J. Eekelaar and J. Bell (eds), Oxford Essays in
Jurisprudence, 3rd Series (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), Ch.3; J.
Allison, A Continental Distinction in the Common Law: A Historical and
Comparative Perspective on English Public Law (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1996); N. Bamforth, “The Public Law–Private Law Distinction: A
Comparative and Philosophical Approach”, in P. Leyland and T. Woods (eds),
Administrative Law Facing the Future: Old Constraints and New Horizons
(Oxford: Blackstone, 1997), Ch.6; C. Campbell, “The Nature of Power as Public
in English Judicial Review” [2009] C.L.J. 90.
79 See Ch.26; Groenvelt v Burwell (1700) 1 Ld. Raym. 454.
82 H.W.R. Wade, “Procedure and Prerogative in Public Law” (1985) 101 L.Q.R.
180.
83 Datafin [1987] Q.B. 815 at 846−869.
85 See Ch.4.
86 See Ch.5.
90 R. v North and East Devon Health Authority, Ex p. Coughlan [2001] Q.B. 213
CA (Civ Div).
91 Servite had lawfully terminated its contract with Wandsworth, the applicants
had no contract with Servite, and Wandsworth had discharged its obligation by
making the initial arrangements with Servite. Wandsworth could not compel
Servite to keep the house open, although the local authority would be under an
obligation to find alternative accommodation for the applicants.
92 Servite Houses (2000) 2 L.G.L.R. 997 at 1010, 1025.
97 P. Craig, “Contracting-out, the Human Rights Act and the Scope of Judicial
Review” (2002) 118 L.Q.R. 551.
98 S. Arrowsmith, “Judicial Review and the Contractual Powers of Public
Authorities” (1990) 106 L.Q.R. 277; S.H. Bailey, “Judicial Review of
Contracting Decisions” [2007] P.L. 444.
99 R. v Barnsley MBC, Ex p. Hook [1976] 1 W.L.R. 1052 CA (Civ Div); R. v
103 R. (Tucker) v Director General of the National Crime Squad [2003] I.C.R.
Oliver (eds), The Changing Constitution, 3rd edn (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1994), Ch.8; S. Fredman and G. Morris, “The Costs of Exclusivity: Public
and Private Re-examined” [1994] P.L. 69, 76−78.
107 S. Arrowsmith, “Judicial Review and the Contractual Powers of Public
Authorities” (1990) 106 L.Q.R. 277, 291; S.H. Bailey, “Judicial Review of
Contracting Decisions” [2007] P.L. 444, 462−463.
108 R. (Molinaro) v Kensington and Chelsea RLBC [2001] EWHC 896 (Admin);
R. (A) v B Council [2007] EWHC 1529 (Admin); R. (Birmingham and Solihull
Taxi Association) v Birmingham International Airport Ltd [2009] EWHC 1462
(Admin); R. (A) v Chief Constable of B [2012] EWHC 2141 (Admin); Dudley
Muslim Association v Dudley MBC [2015] EWCA Civ 1123.
109 Molinaro [2001] EWHC 896 (Admin) at [66].
120 Datafin [1987] Q.B. 815 838−839. See also, R. v Panel on Take-Overs and
Insurance Ombudsman, Ex p. Aegon Life Assurance Ltd [1994] C.O.D. 426 DC;
R. v Panel of the Federation of Communication Services Ltd, Ex p. Kubis [1998]
C.O.D. 5 QBD; R. v Association of British Travel Agents, Ex p. Sunspell Ltd
[2001] A.C.D 16 QBD; R. v British Standards Institution, Ex p. Dorgard Ltd
[2001] A.C.D 15; R. (West) v Lloyd’s of London [2004] 3 All E.R. 251 CA (Civ
Div).
127 Aga Khan [1993] 1 W.L.R. 909 at 932−933.
130 G. Borrie, “The Regulation of Public and Private Power” [1989] P.L. 552.
136 Walsh [1985] Q.B. 152; R. v Derbyshire CC, Ex p. Noble [1990] I.C.R. 808
139 McLaren v Home Office [1990] I.C.R. 824 CA (Civ Div) at 836−837; Gokool
v Permanent Secretary of Health and Quality of Life [2008] UKPC 54; R.
(Davies) v Pennine Acute Hospitals [2010] EWHC 2887 (Admin).
140 Lavelle [1983] 1 W.L.R. 23.
141 S. Fredman and G. Morris, “Public or Private: State Employees and Judicial
Review” (1991) 107 L.Q.R. 298; and “A Snake or a Ladder: O’Reilly v
Mackman Reconsidered” (1992) 108 L.Q.R. 353.
142 R. v Civil Service Appeal Board, Ex p. Bruce [1988] I.C.R. 649 QBD; [1989]
I.C.R. 171; McLaren [1990] I.C.R. 824.
143 See Ch.5; G. Morris and S. Fredman, “Is There a Public/Private Labour Law
149 Lord Woolf, “Judicial Review: A Possible Programme for Reform” [1992]
P.L. 221, 235.
150 Sir J. Laws, “Public Law and Employment Law: Abuse of Power” [1997]
P.L. 467; D. Oliver, “Common Values in Public and Private Law and the
Public/Private Divide” [1997] P.L. 630; Bradley [2005] EWCA Civ 1056.
151 P. Craig, “Public Law and Control over Private Power”, in Taggart (ed.), The
153 Lord Woolf, “Judicial Review: A Possible Programme for Reform” [1992]
wrong further back in the system. Public or private money would be wasted by
lawyers encouraging the pursuit of such cases. The rational individual is unlikely
to wish to press a case if advised by a lawyer that the action was wholly
unarguable.
161 R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department, Ex p. Begum [1990] C.O.D.
163 Review of the Crown Office List (LCD, 2000); Lord Chancellor’s
168 T. Cornford and M. Sunkin, “The Bowman Report, Access and the Recent
Reforms of the Judicial Review Procedure” [2001] P.L. 11, 19; V. Bondy and M.
Sunkin, “Accessing Judicial Review” [2008] P.L. 647.
169 Cornford and Sunkin, “The Bowman Report, Access and the Recent Reforms
of the Judicial Review Procedure” [2001] P.L. 11, 15.
170 CPR Pts 1, 3.
173 John v Rees [1970] Ch. 345 at 402; Secretary of State for the Home
178 Bondy and Sunkin, “Accessing Judicial Review” [2008] P.L. 647, 656.
179 Bondy and Sunkin, “Accessing Judicial Review” [2008] P.L. 647, 656−657.
180 Le Sueur and Sunkin, “Applications for Judicial Review: the Requirement of
Leave” [1992] P.L. 102, 126.
181 S. Fredman and G. Morris, “The Costs of Exclusivity” [1994] P.L. 69.
182 Cornford and Sunkin, “The Bowman Report, Access and the Recent Reforms
of the Judicial Review Procedure” [2001] P.L. 11, 15; D. Oliver, “Public Law
Procedures and Remedies—Do We Need Them?” [2002] P.L. 91, 93.
183 LCCP, para.5.8; Law Commission, Administrative Law: Judicial Review and
Statutory Appeals (Report No.226) HC Paper No.669 (1994), para.3.5; Sir J.
Laws, “Procedural Exclusivity”, paper delivered at Robinson College,
Cambridge (15 May 1993).
184 Report of the Review of Tribunals by Sir Andrew Leggatt: Tribunals for
Users—One System, One Service, (16 August 2001).
185 Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007 ss.11−14.
187 M. Beloff, “Time, Time, Time It’s On My Side, Yes It Is”, in C. Forsyth and
I. Hare (eds), The Golden Metwand and the Crooked Cord, Essays on Public
Law in Honour of Sir William Wade (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998),
pp.267−295.
188 J. Beatson and M. Matthews, “Reform of Administrative Law Remedies: The
First Step” (1978) 41 M.L.R. 437, 442−444.
189 SI 2000/1980 r.3, amending Ord.53 r.4.
193 Ord.53 r.4 stated that where an order of certiorari is sought in respect of any
judgment, order, conviction or other proceeding, the date when grounds for the
application first arose shall be taken to be the date of that judgment, order,
conviction or proceeding. There is no such provision in CPR 54.5.
194 Hereward & Foster Ltd v Legal Services Commission [2010] EWHC 3370
(Admin).
195 In R. v Redbridge LBC, Ex p. G [1991] C.O.D. 398 DC, it was assumed that
time ran from when a policy was actually made, but that the fact that the
applicant had no knowledge of the policy until it was published later was
regarded as a good reason for extending the time limit. However, in R. v
Secretary of State for Trade and Industry, Ex p. Greenpeace (No.2) [2000]
C.O.D. 141 QBD, the court held that time did not begin to run from the date of
the contested regulations, since any such claim at that date would have been
made in a vacuum; R. (Nash) v Barnet LBC [2013] EWCA Civ 1004.
196 R. (DSD) v Parole Board [2019] Q.B. 285 DC at [167].
197 R. (Badmus) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2020] EWCA
212 Owen [2001] A.C.D 14; A. Lindsay, “Delay in Judicial Review Cases: A
Conundrum Solved?” [1995] P.L. 417, 425−426.
213 Caswell [1990] 2 A.C. 738 at 746.
214 R. (Brown) v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions [2008] EWHC 3158;
R. (007 Stratford Taxis Ltd) v Stratford on Avon DC [2011] EWCA Civ 160; R.
(Gerber) v Wiltshire Council [2016] 1 W.L.R. 2593 CA (Civ Div) at [59]–[64];
R. (Thornton Hall Hotel Ltd) v Wirral MBC [2019] EWCA Civ 737 at [7]–[8].
215 Maharaj v National Energy Corp of Trinidad and Tobago [2019] UKPC 5;
340−342.
217 Lichfield [2001] 3 L.G.L.R. 35 at [33].
221 Lord Clyde and D. Edwards, Judicial Review (Edinburgh: W. Green, 2000),
para.13.4; Burkett [2002] 1 W.L.R. 1593 at [59]−[66].
222 Law Commission, Administrative Law: Judicial Review and Statutory
228 Lord Woolf, Access to Justice: The Final Report to the Lord Chancellor on
the Civil Justice System in England and Wales (1997), p.251.
229 Cowl v Plymouth CC [2002] 1 W.L.R. 803 CA (Civ Div); Practice Statement
(Administrative Court: Listing and Urgent Cases) [2002] 1 W.L.R. 810 QBD; R.
(C) v Nottingham CC [2010] EWCA Civ 790; R. (Crawford) v Newcastle Upon
Tyne University [2014] EWHC 1197 (Admin); R. (Archer) v Revenue and
Customs Commissioners [2019] 1 W.L.R. 6355 CA (Civ Div).
230 S. Fredman and G. Morris, “The Costs of Exclusivity: Public and Private Re-
234 R. (Bhatt) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2015] EWHC 1724
(Admin).
235 Practice Direction (PD) 54A at [5.6]−[5.7].
A.C.D. 64.
237 See paras 27–040 to 27–045.
239 R. (Howard League for Penal Reform) v Secretary of State for the Home
Department (No.1) [2002] EWHC 1750 (Admin); R. v National Lottery
Commission, Ex p. Camelot Group Plc [2001] EMLR 3 QBD at [3]; M.
Fordham, “‘Public Interest’ Intervention: A Practitioner’s Perspective” [2007]
P.L. 410.
240 Senior Courts Act 1981 s.31(5)−(5A).
243 Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007 ss.15−19. See Ch.9.
245 R. (Corner House Research) v Secretary of State for Trade and Industry
[2005] 1 W.L.R. 2600 CA (Civ Div); R. (Buglife: The Invertebrate Conservation
Trust) v Thurrock Thames Gateway Development Corp [2008] EWCA Civ 1209;
R. (Public Interest Lawyers Ltd) v Legal Services Commission [2010] EWHC
3259 (Admin).
246 Criminal Justice and Courts Act 2015 s.88(6).
249 See para.27–006; Khawaja [1984] A.C. 74; Air Canada [1983] 2 A.C. 394.
251 Le Sueur and Sunkin, “Applications for Judicial Review: the Requirement of
258 Tweed v Parades Commission for Northern Ireland [2007] 1 A.C. 650.
259 Tweed [2007] 1 A.C. 650 at [3], [32], [56]; Sky Blue Sports & Leisure Ltd v
Coventry CC [2013] EWHC 3366 (Admin); R. (Bredenkamp) v Secretary of
State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs [2013] EWHC 2480 (Admin); R.
(Perry) v Hackney LBC [2014] EWHC 1721 (Admin).
260 R. (Al-Sweady) v Secretary of State for Defence [2009] EWHC 2387
270 C. Forsyth, “The Rock and the Sand: Jurisdiction and Remedial Discretion”,
University of Cambridge, Legal Studies Research Paper Series, 31/2013.
271 Lord Bingham, “Should Public Law Remedies be Discretionary?” [1991]
P.L. 64.
272 See Ch.12.
QBD.
278 See Ch.22.
279 Pyx Granite Co Ltd v Ministry of Housing and Local Government [1960]
288 Leech v Deputy Governor of Parkhurst Prison [1988] A.C. 533 HL.
294 Clark v Epsom RDC [1929] 1 Ch. 287 Ch D; Preston [1985] A.C. 835;
Smeeton v Att Gen [1920] 1 Ch. 85 Ch D; Coney v Choyce [1975] 1 W.L.R. 422
Ch D at 434; Hilditch v Westminster CC [1990] C.O.D. 434 CA (Civ Div).
295 R. v DPP, Ex p. Camelot Group Plc (No.2) [1998] C.O.D. 54 QBD.
and T. Woods (eds), Administrative Law Facing the Future: Old Constraints
and New Horizons (London: Blackstone, 1997), p.245.
CHAPTER 28
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
28–001 i. The legislature has attempted to limit judicial review through
various formulae inserted in legislation. These efforts have not in
general been successful, since the courts have restrictively
construed such legislation. The legislature has attempted to limit
judicial review in two ways.
ii. First, it has devised a range of clauses, the detailed wording of
which differs, designed to exclude judicial review by the ordinary
courts. The legislative ingenuity in drafting has been matched by
judicial insistence on preservation of the essentials of judicial
review. The courts have limited the effect of such clauses through
interpretation, which has been informed by the background legal
principle concerning the desirability of ensuring that government
is subject to legal control.
iii. Secondly, the legislature has imposed clauses that limit the time
within which judicial review can be claimed. This device has
been especially prevalent in areas where certainty of government
action is at a high premium, such as planning and land use. The
courts have been more tolerant of such clauses than those that
seek to oust the jurisdiction of the courts completely.
2. COMPLETE EXCLUSION
A. Finality Clauses
28–002 Finality clauses are statutory terms that purport to render the decision
of a particular agency unassailable. The courts have given them short
shrift, holding that they only protect decisions made on facts and not
law.1 Jurisdictional defects were not immune from judicial scrutiny by
such clauses,2 nor were errors on the face of the record. Thus, in
Gilmore3 it was held that the decision of the tribunal was open to
attack despite the existence of a finality clause. Denning LJ reviewed
the authorities and concluded that the clause only prevented an appeal.
Judicial review, whether for jurisdictional error or error on the face of
the record,
remained unimpaired.4 Even this limited effect was subsequently
diminished. Thus, the case law authority for the proposition that a
finality clause can prevent an appeal5 has been characterised as out of
date. The Court of Appeal held that, notwithstanding the existence of
finality provisions, it was still possible to state a case, at least where
declaration or certiorari would themselves have been available.6
E. Statutory Intervention
28–007 In 1958 parliamentary intervention took a different form. There had
been much criticism of exclusion clauses. The Franks Committee
advocated removal of clauses that purported to oust the prerogative
orders.34 The Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1958 implemented a number
of the proposals of the Franks Committee. That Act was replaced by
the Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1971, which was replaced by the
Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1992 s.12(1) of which provides that as
respects England and Wales:
any provision in an Act passed before 1st August 1958 that any order or determination
“(a) shall not be called into question in any court, or
(b) any provision in such an Act which by similar words excludes any of the powers of the
High Court, shall not have effect so as to prevent the removal of the proceedings into
the High Court by order of certiorari or to prejudice the powers of the High Court to
make orders of mandamus.”
3. TIME LIMITS
28–008 In some contexts it may be particularly important to know whether a
decision can safely be acted upon. This is particularly so in areas such
as planning, compulsory acquisition and the like. Statutes in such areas
normally provide a cut-off period of six weeks, after which the
decision shall not be called in question in any legal proceedings.
Within the allowed time there are statutory grounds on which an order
can be attacked. The present discussion focuses on the effect of expiry
of the six weeks. The scope of review within that period has already
been considered in earlier discussion.37
The starting point for discussion is the Smith case.38 Smith alleged
that a local authority had compulsorily acquired her property in bad
faith. Despite the possible presence of fraud their Lordships held that
the clause protected the local authority after the expiry of the six
weeks.39 It was unclear how far Anisminic
affected this decision.40 The latter also involved a shall not be
questioned clause, the difference being that the provision in the
Foreign Compensation Act 1950 purported to exclude the courts
altogether, whereas in the Smith case there was a six-week time limit
within which an order could be challenged. In the Anisminic case little
favour was shown to the Smith decision. It was not expressly
overruled, although it was distinguished on a variety of grounds. The
distinction between complete ouster of jurisdiction and time
limitations was not, however, foremost in their Lordships’ reasoning.41
28–009 Smith survived despite this censure. In Ostler42 the applicant sought to
quash a road scheme and compulsory purchase order, alleging breach
of natural justice and bad faith. The facts of the case were particularly
strong. Ostler argued that he was only applying outside the six-week
time limit because a covert agreement between a departmental officer
and a local merchant had been hidden from him and had changed the
whole complexion of the scheme. If the facts had been revealed earlier
he would have objected within the time limit.
The six-week time limit was, nonetheless, upheld. Anisminic was
distinguished for a number of reasons. The distinction between a
complete ouster clause and a time limit43; the administrative nature of
the proceedings in Smith as compared with the more judicial nature of
the Foreign Compensation Commission44; and the allegedly differing
degrees of nullity ensuing from the defects in the two cases,45 were
advanced to uphold the clause. The Court of Appeal was also
influenced by the fact that a significant part of the scheme had been
begun and that nullification would have resulted in considerable
disruption and expense.46
The decisions in Smith and Ostler have been followed on a number
of occasions. Thus, in Huntington47 it was held that an order subject to
a six-week time limit clause could only be challenged within that
period, and by the method stipulated in the statute. An applicant could
not choose to use the ordinary judicial review procedure instead. It
made no difference whether the body whose decision was being
challenged was quasi-judicial or administrative; and it was irrelevant
whether the invalidity was fundamental or not.
However, in Richards48 the Court of Appeal held that time limit
clauses should, for constitutional reasons, be narrowly construed. This
meant that even if the initial order was immune from review after six
weeks because of Ostler and
Huntington, it did not necessarily preclude judicial review of
instruments made under that order, since the validity of those
instruments depended ultimately on the enabling statute.
The problem considered within this section is now of greater
importance given that the time limits for seeking judicial review within
proceedings under s.31 of the Senior Courts Act 1981 are short, and
given also that the judiciary have insisted that some cases can only be
brought by this route. While these provisions on time limits do not
contain any explicit “shall not be challenged” clause, the courts have
not, on the whole, been willing to allow actions outside this period.49
5. CONCLUSION
B. Time Limits
28–013
Statutes containing time limit clauses raise somewhat different
problems. In the modern state there will necessarily be a trade-off
between the need for administrative certainty, on the one hand, and
justice for the individual and administrative legality on the other. This
balancing appears in varying guises throughout administrative law. It
arises in the creative decision as to how to
categorise an alleged error, as jurisdictional or not, or as law or fact. It
rears its head in the way in which we deal with waiver, delay, and
representations. It lies behind some of the judicial manipulation of
void and voidable.
The effect to be given to time limits is another manifestation of this
problem. If the Ostler57 decision had gone the other way then some
other device, judicial or legislative, would have been required. Where
an expensive planning and building project is undertaken then the
traditional response of retrospective nullity will be difficult to apply.
The method of distinguishing Anisminic may or may not have been
convincing,58 but some limit to challenge is required in such areas.
This does not mean that we can be complacent or that there is no
room for improvement. Two matters require special attention. The first
is to consider whether the length of the time limit is adequate. Six
weeks is short and thought needs to be given as to what would be the
appropriate balance between the needs of the individual and the
requirements of the administration. Secondly, the provision of a
compensatory remedy for those unable to complain needs to be
thought through. This is particularly important where the individual’s
recourse to the statutory machinery is effectively foreclosed by bad
faith or fraud. The possibility of such a remedy will be considered
later.59
2 R. v Moreley (1760) 2 Burr. 1040; R. v Jukes (1800) 8 T.R. 542; cf. where
certiorari is the creature of statute, R. v Hunt (1856) 6 El. & Bl. 408.
3 R. v Medical Appeal Tribunal, Ex p. Gilmore [1957] 1 Q.B. 574 CA.
4 Gilmore [1957] 1 Q.B. 574 at 583−585. See also R. v Nat Bell Liquors Ltd
10 Wood (1855) 5 El. & Bl. 49 at 55. See also Ex p. Bradlaugh [1878] 3 Q.B.D.
509 at 512−513.
11 South East Asia Fire Bricks Sdn Bhd v Non-Metallic Mineral Products
Manufacturing Employees Union [1981] A.C. 363.
12 South East Asia Fire Bricks [1981] A.C. 363 at 369−370; following Gilmore
[1957] 1 Q.B. 574; Re Waldron [1986] Q.B. 824 CA (Civ Div).
13 South East Asia Fire Bricks [1981] A.C. 363 at 370.
14 See Ch.16.
170−171, 181, 200−201, 210; R. v Secretary of State for the Home Department,
Ex p. Mehta [1992] C.O.D. 484 DC. cf. R. v Acting Returning Officer for the
Devon and East Plymouth European Constituency, Ex p. Sanders [1994] C.O.D.
497 QBD.
16 R. (Privacy International) v Investigatory Powers Tribunal [2020] A.C. 491
SC.
17 R. (Privacy International) v Investigatory Powers Tribunal [2018] 1 W.L.R.
2572 CA (Civ Div) at [34]–[38].
18 Privacy International [2020] A.C. 491 SC at [99], [104]–[111], [165].
19 Privacy International [2020] A.C. 491 SC at [168], Lord Lloyd did not
address the second issue.
20 Privacy International [2020] A.C. 491 SC at [113]–[144].
SC. See also Farley v Secretary of State for Work and Pensions (No.2) [2006] 1
W.L.R. 1817.
25 The Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000 s.67(8) contained an ouster
Minister of Health v R., Ex p. Yaffe [1931] A.C. 494 HL at 520, 532−533; but
see also Graddage v Haringey LBC [1975] 1 W.L.R. 241 Ch D; County and
Nimbus Estates Ltd v Ealing LBC (1978) 76 L.G.R. 624.
29 R. v Registrar of Companies, Ex p. Central Bank of India [1986] Q.B. 1114
CA (Civ Div), distinguishing such clauses from the type used in the Anisminic
case.
30 Institute of Patent Agents v Lockwood [1894] A.C. 347 HL.
39 See also Woollett v Minister of Agriculture and Fisheries [1955] 1 Q.B. 103
(Civ Div).
43 Ostler [1977] Q.B. 122 at 135.
46 See also Jeary v Chailey RDC (1973) 26 P. & C.R. 280 CA (Civ Div); Routh
v Reading Corp (1970) 217 E.G. 1337.
47 R. v Cornwall CC, Ex p. Huntington [1992] 3 All E.R. 566 QBD; affirmed
[1994] 1 All E.R. 694; R. v Secretary of State for the Environment, Ex p. Kent
[1990] J.P.L. 124 CA (Civ Div); R. v Secretary of State for the Environment, Ex
p. Upton Brickworks Ltd [1992] C.O.D. 301; R. v Camden LBC, Ex p. Woolf
[1992] C.O.D. 456; Croke v Secretary of State for Communities and Local
Government [2019] EWCA Civ 54.
48 R. (Richards) v Pembrokeshire CC [2004] EWCA Civ 1000 at [46]−[47].
50 See Ch.14.
52 The Australian courts have retained power in the face of such terms if there is
a clear excess of power, while not interfering if the agency has made a bona fide
attempt to exercise its authority in a matter relating to the subject with which the
legislation deals, M. Aronson and M. Groves, Judicial Review of Administrative
Action, 5th edn (Sydney: Lawbook/Thomson Reuters Australia, 2013), Ch.18.
53 Privacy International [2020] A.C. 491 SC.
54 This statement must be qualified in two ways: (a) Parliament enacted the
Tribunals and Inquiries Act 1992 s.12; and (b) it has acquiesced, in the sense of
continuing to use certain terms even after the legal effect ascribed to them by the
courts has become clear.
55 R. Rawlings, “Review, Revenge and Retreat” (2005) 68 M.L.R. 378; de
CROWN LIABILITY
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
29–001 i. The Crown’s contractual liability has already been considered.1
Three matters will be considered in this chapter, which are
concerned with the Crown’s position in relation to litigation and
tort liability.
ii. First, there are specific legal rules that apply to statutes and the
Crown. The law was more satisfactory 300 hundred years ago,
where the simple principle was that the Crown was bound by a
statute that was intended to bind it. This principle was, however,
lost sight of in subsequent case law, with the consequence that the
current law as to when a statute will bind the Crown is more
limited than hitherto.
iii. Secondly, there have been complications as to the remedies that
can be awarded against the Crown. The law in this area is now
clearer than hitherto, because of statutory changes and case law.
iv. Thirdly, the law prior to 1947 rendered it difficult to claim
damages in tort against the Crown. The Crown Proceedings Act
1947 reformed the law, and the applicable rules are, with some
modifications, the same as those pertaining to ordinary tort
actions.
A. Injunctive Relief
29–008 The courts took different views as to whether the Crown or its officers
were subject to injunctive relief, and hence whether they were also
liable for interim injunctive relief. The Crown Proceedings Act 1947
s.21 allows the court in civil proceedings to award any relief against
the Crown as it could in proceedings between subjects, provided that it
cannot grant injunctions or specific performance, but can instead make
a declaratory order. Section 21(2) further provides that the court
should not grant an injunction against an officer of the Crown if the
effect of doing so would be to give any relief against the Crown, which
could not have been obtained in proceedings against the Crown itself.
Civil proceedings do not include proceedings for judicial review,24 but
prior to the reform of Ord.53 injunctions could not be sought in
judicial review actions. The accepted wisdom was, therefore, that
injunctive relief could not be sought against the Crown or its officers.
The 1977 reforms in the law of remedies allowed injunctions to be
claimed when applying for judicial review and this was given statutory
force by the Senior Courts Act 1981 s.31. Certain decisions suggested
that the absence of injunctive relief had been cured by these reforms,
and that injunctions could be
sought against officers of the Crown via judicial review.25 These
decisions were overruled in the first Factortame case,26 where Lord
Bridge stated that the reforms in the law of remedies could not be
taken to have changed the law in this respect: interim injunctive relief
against the Crown or officers of the Crown acting as such was not
possible.
It was, somewhat paradoxically, the Factortame litigation that
fuelled the demand for this gap to be filled. The ECJ held that the
absence of interim relief against the Crown was itself a breach of
Community law, and that any national rule preventing this relief from
being claimed must be set aside.27 In Factortame (No.2)28 the House
of Lords accepted the ECJ’s ruling and acknowledged that interim
relief had to be applicable against the Crown.29 In formal terms
Factortame (No.2) only applied to cases with an EU law element. This
created an uneasy dualism, since interim injunctive relief could be
obtained in cases with an EU law element, but not in domestic cases.
The matter rested there until the decision of the House of Lords in
M v Home Office.30 The Home Secretary was held in contempt of
court for action he had taken in relation to M, who had been refused
political asylum. The availability of injunctions against the Crown was
relevant because if the courts had no power to make such coercive
orders then the judge who made the finding of contempt might have
done so without jurisdiction. Lord Woolf, giving the judgment of the
court, in effect reversed the holding in the first Factortame case, and
held that injunctions, including interim injunctions, were available
against ministers of the Crown, given the unqualified language of the
Senior Courts Act s.31. These remedies could, moreover, be issued
even prior to the granting of leave where this was appropriate. The
general jurisdiction to issue injunctions should, however, only be
exercised in limited circumstances, and his Lordship left open the
possibility of the courts being able to grant interim declarations.
B. Interim Declarations
29–009 The courts, in the past, set their face against the grant of interim
declarations.31 In Rossminster,32 their Lordships differed as to whether
interim relief should be available against the Crown. Lord
Wilberforce, Viscount Dilhorne and Lord Scarman all expressed
doubts about the availability of interim relief against the Crown, and
about the advisability of providing this remedy.33 Lord Diplock was
of a different view: the absence of such relief was seen as a serious
procedural defect.34 There have been three main objections to the
granting of such relief.
The first was that the very idea of an interim declaration, even
between private parties, was simply illogical. A declaration necessarily
declared the final rights of the parties and could not simply preserve
the status quo. This reasoning is questionable. Thus, it is said that there
cannot be an interim declaration because declarations exist to tell
people what their rights are and this cannot be achieved until the final
judgment.35 However, the claimant is not seeking a final determination
of their rights at this stage but is simply asking the court to preserve
the status quo. This objection to the grant of interim declaratory relief
was rejected by some other high authorities, which saw nothing odd
about an interim declaration.36 It has also been argued that the final
declaration might be in different terms from the interim order, and
therefore should not be available.37 Yet it is difficult to see the logic of
the argument that because a final order can differ from the interim
relief, therefore the interim relief cannot be given. Final injunctions
will often differ from an interim injunction granted to preserve the
status quo.
The second argument was that to grant an interim declaration
would indirectly infringe against the principle that the decisions of the
state are presumptively valid unless and until shown to be wrong.38
This argument is flawed. There is nothing inconsistent in regarding,
quite correctly, such decisions as presumptively valid and still leaving
open the possibility of granting interim relief. The presumption of
validity places the burden of proof upon the party challenging the
decision. It does not tell us whether that party should be able to claim
interim relief. Provided that the claimant is required to show a
sufficiently strong prima facie case of invalidity and provided that the
balance of convenience is properly assessed, interim relief is not
inconsistent with this principle.39
The third argument against the interim declaration was that it
would have much the same effect as would the grant of an
injunction.40 This argument is difficult to understand, since the Crown
Proceedings Act 1947 s.21 provides for a declaration to be granted
instead of an injunction or specific performance. The argument might
be that the Crown would feel duty bound to abide by the court’s order.
This could, however, be said just as much about final declarations. The
Crown does comply with them.
29–010 The procedure for judicial review is now governed by CPR Pt 54. The
judicial review procedure under CPR Pt 54 is a modification of CPR Pt
8.41 CPR Pt 25
sets out a number of interim orders that a court can grant, including an
interim declaration.42 This is to be welcomed since it provides a
valuable additional remedy that can be used against the Crown where
it is felt that an injunction is inappropriate.
C. Contempt
29–011 The leading decision is M v Home Office.43 The applicant, M, arrived
from Zaire and sought political asylum in the UK. The claim for
asylum was rejected by the secretary of state and he made a direction
for the removal of M back to Zaire. M then sought leave to apply for
judicial review. The judge thought that there was an arguable point and
wished M to remain in the UK until the following day when the point
could be fully argued. Counsel for the secretary of state then gave
what the judge believed to be an undertaking that M would not be
removed from the UK pending the hearing. There followed a series of
mistakes and mishaps, which culminated in M being returned to Zaire.
The judge then issued a mandatory order to the Home Secretary
demanding that M be returned to the UK. The Home Secretary
challenged this order, after taking legal advice, and the judge, at a
hearing on the issue, discharged the order on the basis that he, the
judge, had no power to make it. An action was then brought on behalf
of M for contempt of court by the Home Secretary on the basis that he
had broken the undertaking and the judge’s order while it was in force.
The House of Lords held that coercive orders, such as injunctions,
could lie against ministers of the Crown, and that if a minister acted in
disregard of an injunction made against him in his official capacity the
court had jurisdiction to make a finding of contempt against him or his
department, albeit not against the Crown itself. The contempt
proceedings would, however, differ from normal proceedings of this
kind, in that they would not be either personal or punitive: fines and
sequestration of assets would not be appropriate in cases involving
departments or ministers, although they might be necessary in other
instances. There would, said Lord Woolf, still be a point in the finding
of contempt since such a finding would vindicate the requirements of
justice, and this could be underlined by awarding costs against the
government. It would then be for Parliament to decide upon the
consequences of the contempt. Any such finding of contempt would be
against the authorised department, the minister or the Attorney
General, rather than the Crown. It would, moreover, be more normal to
make the finding of contempt against the department as opposed to the
minister personally. The constitutional precept that the Crown itself
can do no wrong was preserved, by presuming that the minister had
acted without the authority of the Crown in such circumstances.
The decision was significant for emphasising that the government
must obey the law not just as a matter of choice, but ultimately by way
of compulsion.
Instances of contempt are likely to be rare in practice, although this
should not diminish the important point of principle in the House of
Lords’ ruling, which was brought out by Lord Templeman44:
“My Lords, the argument that there is no power to enforce the law by injunction or contempt
proceedings against a minister in his official capacity would, if upheld, establish the
proposition that the executive obey the law as a matter of grace and favour and not as a
matter of necessity, a proposition which would reverse the result of the Civil War.”
2 H. Street, “The Effect of Statutes upon the Rights and Liabilities of the Crown”
5 Province of Bombay v Municipal Corp of the City of Bombay [1947] A.C. 58;
Madras Electric Supply Co Ltd v Boarland [1955] A.C. 667 HL; Gorton Local
Board v Prison Commissioners [1904] 2 K.B. 165 KBD; British Broadcasting
Corp v Johns [1965] Ch. 32 CA; cf. Att Gen v De Keyser’s Royal Hotel Ltd
[1920] A.C. 508 HL.
6 Lord Advocate v Dumbarton DC [1990] 2 A.C. 580 HL.
EWHC 1586 (Admin); R. (Black) v Secretary of State for Justice [2015] EWHC
528 (Admin).
8 G. Treitel, “Crown Proceedings: Some Recent Developments” [1957] P.L. 321,
322−326.
9 R. (Black) v Secretary of State for Justice [2018] A.C. 215 SC at [33]–[37].
16 Padfield v Minister of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food [1968] A.C. 997 HL;
R. v Customs and Excise Commissioners, Ex p. Cooke and Stevenson [1970] 1
W.L.R. 450 DC at 455; M v Home Office [1994] 1 A.C. 377 HL.
17 R. v Powell (1841) 1 Q.B. 352 QBD at 361.
C.M.L.R. 867.
28 R. v Secretary of State for Transport, Ex p. Factortame Ltd (No.2) [1991] 1
527.
30 M v Home Office [1994] 1 A.C. 377. See also Davidson v Scottish Ministers
(No.1) [2005] UKHL 74; Beggs v Scottish Ministers [2007] 1 W.L.R. 455.
31 Underhill v Ministry of Food [1950] 1 All E.R. 591 Ch D; International
HL.
33 Rossminster [1980] A.C. 952 at 1001, 1007, 1027.
37 Underhill [1950] 1 All E.R. 591 at 593; Rossminster [1980] A.C. 952 at 1027.
41 CPR 54.1(2)(e).
42 CPR 25.1(1)(b); R. v R [2000] 1 F.L.R. 451 Fam Div; X NHS Trust v T [2005]
W.L.R. 1658 QBD; R. (Lamari) v Secretary of State for the Home Department
[2012] EWHC 1895 (Admin).
44 M v Home Office [1994] 1 A.C. 377 at 395. See also Beggs v Scottish
57 Crown Proceedings Act 1947 s.10. Adams v War Office [1955] 1 W.L.R. 1116
QBD; Pearce v Secretary of State for Defence [1988] A.C. 755 HL; Mulcahy v
Ministry of Defence [1996] QB 732 CA; Matthews v Ministry of Defence [2003]
1 A.C. 1163 HL; Roche v United Kingdom [2006] 42 E.H.R.R. 30; Smith v
Ministry of Defence [2013] UKSC 41. The Crown Proceedings (Armed Forces)
Act 1987 s.1 repealed s.10 of the 1947 Act except in relation to anything done
prior to 1987, subject to s.2 of the 1987 Act, which allows for the revival of s.10
in certain circumstances.
CHAPTER 30
1. CENTRAL ISSUES
30–001 i. It is important at the outset to consider the foundations of the
present law1 and the options when thinking about damages
liability. All legal systems have to decide on the conceptual
foundation for damages liability in actions involving public
bodies. The principles that underlie the common law regime can
be succinctly stated.
ii. A public body that acts ultra vires is liable in tort if a cause of
action is established, just like any private individual would be.
There is no general cloak of immunity.2 However, the basic
premise is that an ultra vires act per se will not give rise to
damages liability.3 The claim must therefore be fitted into a
recognised private law cause of action.
iii. There are a number of causes of action that might avail a claimant
against a public body.4 These include: negligence; breach of
statutory duty; misfeasance in a public office; nuisance; Rylands v
Fletcher; false imprisonment5; and damages under the Human
Rights Act 1998. There is no cause of action based simply upon
the careless performance of a statutory duty in the absence of any
other common law right of action.6
iv. We do not therefore have what would be recognised by other
legal systems as a general principle of damages liability, nor do
we have any wholly separate body of law dealing with damages
actions against public bodies.
v. There are eight basic options available when thinking about
monetary liability. Liability can be imposed for: illegality or ultra
vires action per se; negligence; a serious breach of duty or
discretion; intentional wrongdoing; liability for lawfully caused
governmental loss; ex gratia compensation; restitutionary relief;
or there can be immunity from suit. The term “fault” may be an
imperfect guide for distinguishing between these options, since it
is used differently in different legal systems.
vi. First, it may be treated as equivalent to illegality, which is the
approach in some civil law systems.7 Thus, in France, the starting
assumption is that illegality connotes fault and hence
responsibility in damages. This is also the case in EU law for acts
where there is no real discretion. The only circumstance in which
the common law approximates to this position is where there has
been a finding that a breach of a statute gives rise, in and of itself,
to liability in damages.
vii. Secondly, fault may be seen as distinct from illegality, which is
the general approach taken in common law jurisdictions. Proof of
illegality, in the sense of an ultra vires act, is not treated as the
equivalent of fault for the purposes of damages liability. The
claimant has to prove the existence of a duty of care, a breach
thereof, and recoverable damage.
viii. A third sense of the term fault is to be found in EU law. Where
there is some significant measure of discretion, and/or where the
meaning of the EU norm is imprecise, illegality per se will not
suffice for liability. The applicant will have to prove that the
breach was sufficiently serious. There is, however, no
requirement of fault going beyond proof of the serious breach of
EU law.
ix. This chapter examines the principal causes of action that are used
by individuals when claiming for loss caused by public bodies.
The difficulties with sustaining a damages claim against a public
body under the existing law will be analysed and the chapter
concludes by considering various options for reform that are
available.
30–012 The third reason for the appellation “cautious” or “restrictive” is the
approach taken to omissions. It was clear from Lord Hoffmann’s
majority judgment in Stovin that the courts would only rarely impose a
duty of care on a public body for failure to exercise a statutory power.
He reasoned as follows.
It was for the court to decide in the light of the statute conferring
the power whether the authority was not only under a duty in public
law to consider exercising the power, but also under a private law duty
to act, which might give rise to a claim in damages.52 The plaintiff had
to show that it was irrational for the authority not to have exercised the
power, so that there was in effect a public law duty to act; and there
had to be exceptional grounds for holding that the policy of the statute
conferred the right to compensation on those who suffered loss if the
power was not exercised. The very fact that Parliament had conferred
discretion on the public body, rather than a duty, was some indication
that the policy of the statute was not to create a right to
compensation.53
Lord Hoffmann accepted the doctrine of general reliance,
developed in the Australian High Court,54 but only in limited
circumstances. The doctrine as propounded by Mason J was based on
the idea that the legislature might well have imposed powers on a
public body in relation to matters of such complexity or magnitude
that individuals could not be expected to take adequate steps for their
own protection. Such a situation generated an expectation in the
individual that the power would be exercised, and a realisation in the
public authority that there would be general reliance on the exercise of
that power.
Lord Hoffmann held55 that it was essential to this doctrine that the
benefit or service provided under statutory powers should be of a
uniform or routine nature, so that one could describe exactly what the
public authority was supposed to do, as in the case of inspection for
defects. If a service were provided as routine it would therefore be
irrational for a public authority to provide it in one case and arbitrarily
to withhold it in another. It was, however, also necessary for the
plaintiff to show that there was some policy to provide compensation
where the power had not been exercised.
i. Duty of care
30–014 The greater unwillingness to exclude the duty of care in its entirety is
evident in two ways in case law at the turn of the millennium.
First, there is reluctance to decide cases on claims that the action
should be struck out. Many important cases had been decided in this
way. This involved a preliminary determination of whether the facts as
pleaded disclosed a cause of action or not. The dangers of dealing with
cases in this way were acknowledged in Barrett.58 Thus, Lord Hutton
stated that the court simply could not really know at this stage of the
proceedings whether there were non-justiciable matters involved in the
claimant’s claim, since it was not known what factors the defendant
took into account when making decisions about the claimant. It might,
said his Lordship, transpire that there were no such issues in the case,
so that the trial judge could decide the matter according to normal
principles.59
Secondly, we have seen that it was common for claims to fail
because the court decided that it was not fair, just or reasonable to
impose a duty of care. The decisions in Barrett and Phelps indicate a
greater reluctance to exclude a duty of care on this ground.
30–015 In Barrett,60 the defendant local authority contended that it would not
be fair, just and reasonable to impose a duty of care in relation to their
responsibilities when undertaking foster care for a child. This
argument succeeded in the Court of Appeal.61 Lord Woolf MR held
that the local authority stood in place of the natural parents, and in the
same way that a child should not be able to sue the latter for the
decisions made as to the child’s future, neither should he be able to sue
the local authority. The House of Lords disagreed. Lord Hutton stated
that the comparison between the local authority and the parent was not
entirely apt, since the former would have to take a number of
decisions, such as whether a child should be placed with foster parents
or sent to a residential home, which would
never have to be taken by natural parents.62 His Lordship also
distinguished the policy considerations taken into account in the X
case, set out above. Lord Hutton felt that these were less persuasive in
relation to fostering, than they were in relation to child abuse.63
An unwillingness to reject the existence of a duty of care is
apparent once again in Phelps.64 There were four separate cases
concerning errors allegedly made in the educational system, such as
the failure to diagnose dyslexia and the provision of inadequate
education to a person with muscular dystrophy. The House of Lords
adverted to the considerations that had caused Lord Browne-Wilkinson
to exclude the duty of care in the X case, but concluded that they were
not sufficiently compelling to exclude a duty of care in the instant
cases.65
30–016 There are two aspects of the recent case law that are pertinent to the
shift in emphasis from duty to breach. They will be considered in turn.
First, the House of Lords in Barrett and Phelps limited the
instances in which the courts would deem the matter to be non-
justiciable and emphasised that matters concerning discretion could
often be dealt with when determining whether there was a breach of
the duty of care. Thus, Lord Hutton in Barrett accepted that the effect
of prior decisions66 was that the courts would not permit a claim in
negligence to be brought where a decision on the existence of
negligence would involve the courts in considering matters of policy
raising issues that were not justiciable. It was, said Lord Hutton, only
where the decision involved the weighing of competing public
interests which the courts were not fitted to assess that they would hold
that the matter was non-justiciable on the ground that it was made in
the exercise of a statutory discretion.67 It followed said his Lordship
that there was nothing to preclude a ruling in the instant case that
although the decisions of the defendant were within the ambit of its
statutory discretion, nevertheless those decisions did not involve the
type of policy considerations which rendered the decisions non-
justiciable.68 It followed also, that provided that no such non-
justiciable matters were raised in a particular case, it was preferable for
the courts to decide the matter by applying directly the common law
concept of negligence. There was no need to advert to any preliminary
public law test of Wednesbury unreasonableness to determine whether
the decision was outside the ambit of the statutory discretion.69 Lord
Slynn in Barrett reasoned somewhat differently, but reached a similar
conclusion.70 Lord Slynn reaffirmed the Barrett approach in Phelps.71
This approach is clearly sensible. It avoids the necessity for the
courts to become embroiled in issues of vires, which are not necessary
for the resolution of the case. This conclusion is reinforced by the fact
that a finding of ultra vires will not, in itself, be determinative in a
subsequent negligence action. Thus, if a policy decision to inspect all
buildings of a certain type by tests one and two, rather than half of
them by tests one to four, is found to be ultra vires because it was, for
example, based upon irrelevant considerations, this merely tells us that
the public body in fact took irrelevant considerations into account. It
does not in itself show negligence.72
30–017 Secondly, if the courts decide that there is a duty of care, the nature of
the statutory discretion and the way in which it was exercised will be
relevant in deciding whether there was a breach of that duty.73 The
courts take into account, when assessing breach, the probability that
harm will occur, the degree of harm that will occur if that probability
comes to pass, and the cost of taking precautions. These factors feature
in the determination of whether the defendant has taken reasonable
care in all the circumstances.
It will not be easy for the claimant to show that a defendant public
authority is in breach of its duty of care, more especially where, as in
Barrett, there were difficult discretionary decisions to be made as to
the appropriate foster home. The claimant raised various claims of
negligence as to the way in which he had been frequently moved
between foster homes. It is clear that their Lordships did not regard all
such matters as non-justiciable. It is equally clear that they accepted
that in determining whether any duty of care had been broken, the
court would have regard to the difficult nature of the tasks involved. It
will be necessary for the claimant to show that the defendant was in
breach of the duty of care, as judged by the Bolam test.74 This test
requires a professional to exercise the skill of an ordinary competent
person exercising that particular art. It was made clear in Phelps that
this test would apply to determine breach in actions brought against
professionals such as teachers, and educational psychologists.75 It was
made equally clear that the courts would not look kindly on those who
sought to use negligence actions to pursue ill-founded claims that, for
example, a child had underperformed at school.
30–018 The impact of Barrett and Phelps is apparent in subsequent cases. The
general pattern was for the courts to decide that a duty of care exists
and then to determine whether the duty had been breached.76
There were, however, instances in the post Barrett/Phelps case law
where the courts have felt that the policy concerns are sufficiently
strong to deny the existence of the duty of care in its entirety. It can be
accepted on the Barrett/Phelps approach that in some cases it may be
correct to decide that it is not fair, just and reasonable to impose a duty
of care at all. What Barrett and Phelps properly emphasise is that this
conclusion should only be reached when it is clear that the relevant
policy factors really warrant such a conclusion, and there may be
disagreement on whether this is so by judges and commentators.
Thus, in JD77 the House of Lords decided that no duty of care was
owed by the health care officials to parents accused of child abuse.
The majority of the House of Lords felt that the imposition of such a
duty would lead to a conflict of interest for officials in the protection
of the child and the protection of the parent. Lord Bingham dissented
on the ground that a duty of care could nonetheless be imposed in
favour of the parents, albeit making clear that it would be difficult for
them to succeed at trial in proving a breach. Whatever one’s view
about the rightness of the decision reached in this case, it clearly does
raise singular problems. The decision that a duty of care should not be
imposed in this case should not lead to retreat from the Barrett/Phelps
approach more generally.
In Brooks78 and Michael79 the House of Lords, while not
endorsing all the statements made in Hill,80 nonetheless reaffirmed the
general principle that the police owed no duty of care to victims or
witnesses in their investigation of crime. Their Lordships rejected the
claimant’s attempts to fashion certain more specific duties of care that
should be imposed on the police in relation to victims and witnesses of
crime. They held that this would have detrimental effects on law
enforcement and that the attempt to create more specific duties would
create invidious distinctions between those who could sue in
negligence and those who could not. The common law did not
generally impose negligence liability for the acts of a third party,
subject to exceptions where the defendant was in control of the third
party, or where the defendant had made a representation and assumed
a positive duty to safeguard the claimant.81
30–020 The judgments have implications for the three-part test from Caparo.86
Lord Reed in Robinson held that it was not necessary to address the
three-part Caparo test on all occasions. There were many situations
where it was clearly established that a duty of care did or did not exist,
as exemplified by the duty of care owed by motorists to other road
users, by manufacturers to consumers, by employers to their
employees, and by doctors to their patients.
Where the existence, or non-existence, of a duty of care had been
established, considerations of justice and reasonableness formed part
of the basis on which the law arrived at the relevant principles. It was
therefore unnecessary and inappropriate to reconsider whether the
existence of the duty is fair, just and reasonable, unless the Supreme
Court was being invited to depart from an established line of
authority.87
The fair, just and reasonableness test would, therefore, normally
only be relevant in deciding whether there should be a duty of care in
novel situations. When making such a decision it was important to be
cognisant of the fact that the law of negligence developed
incrementally and by analogy with established authority.88
30–021 Lord Reed in Robinson affirmed that the public bodies were “generally
subject to the same liabilities in tort as private individuals and
bodies”,89 and this was reaffirmed in GN.90 Thus, if conduct would be
tortious if committed by a private person or body, it was generally
tortious if committed by a public authority, subject to the possibility
that the common law or statute might provide otherwise. It followed
that public authorities were generally under a duty of care to avoid
causing actionable harm in situations where a duty of care would arise
under ordinary principles of the law of negligence, unless the law
provided otherwise,91 but the police would not normally be liable for
negligence in the way in which crimes were investigated.92
Lord Reed further affirmed that the limits to the liability of public
bodies in negligence were generally the same as for private parties.
There were four such limits.
First, there was no liability for omissions: “public authorities, like
private individuals and bodies, are generally under no duty of care to
prevent the occurrence of harm”.93 Secondly, there was, as evident
from Stovin94 and
Gorringe,95 no liability for failure to exercise statutory power, unless
the public body had created the source of danger, or “did acts or
entered into relationships or undertook responsibilities giving rise to a
duty of care on an orthodox common law foundation”.96
Thirdly, there was no duty to confer a benefit. There could be
circumstances in which public authorities, like private individuals and
bodies, were under a duty of care to prevent the occurrence of harm.
This would normally require an assumption of responsibility by the
defendant.97 In the absence of such circumstances, public authorities
generally owed no duty of care towards individuals to confer a benefit
upon them by protecting them from harm, any more than would a
private individual or body. Fourthly, there was no duty to prevent
harm caused by a third party: public authorities, like private
individuals and bodies, generally owed no duty of care towards
individuals to prevent them from being harmed by the conduct of a
third party.98
30–022 The reasoning in Robinson and GN built on and explained prior case
law. Thus, the general rule is that a person is not liable for a negligent
omission, since a person owes no general duty to assist another.99 A
corollary is that the law will often only award compensation to the
person who intervenes carelessly, if the intervention has made the
position of the injured party worse than it would otherwise have
been.100 There are well-recognised exceptions: a case will be regarded
as one of misfeasance rather than nonfeasance if the defendant was
already under some pre-existing duty, such as the driver who fails to
apply the brakes; there may be duties to act affirmatively to assist
others in certain situations because of the relationship between the
parties101; and there may be circumstances where courts will impose a
duty on the defendant to take care that a third party does not act to the
detriment of the claimant, as exemplified by Dorset Yacht,102 and
cases where liability will be imposed because the defendant is taken to
have assumed a responsibility to the claimant.103
Notwithstanding these exceptions, part of the disquiet caused by
Anns was because of Lord Wilberforce’s willingness to impose
liability even on the assumption that the council had not inspected the
building at all. His Lordship stated that a public body did not have an
unfettered discretion as to whether to exercise its powers, since this
discretion could be subject to judicial review. This, said Lord
Wilberforce, undermined the argument that if there was no duty to
inspect, there was no duty to take care in inspection.104 Later
authorities rejected
this reasoning.105 Thus, the link between a public law duty concerning
the control of discretion, and the imposition of a duty of care, was
contested.106 Lord Bridge in Curran,107 was critical of Anns for
extending the circumstances in which a public body might be under a
duty to control the actions of a third party, and for blurring the
distinction between misfeasance and nonfeasance.
Lord Hoffmann in Stovin108 was equally reluctant to impose
liability for nonfeasance. There were, said his Lordship, two minimum
conditions for basing a duty of care on the existence of a statutory
power in respect of an omission to exercise the power. It must have
been irrational for the authority not to have exercised the power, so
that there was in effect a public law duty to act; and there must be
exceptional grounds for holding that the policy of the statute conferred
the right to compensation on those who suffered loss if the power was
not exercised. The very fact that Parliament had conferred discretion
on the public body, rather than a duty, was some indication that the
policy of the statute was not to create a right to compensation.
30–023 This limiting approach was further emphasised in Gorringe.109 The
claimant suffered serious injuries when her car collided with a bus.
She had braked sharply just before the crest in the road, but her brakes
locked and she skidded into the bus. She argued that the local highway
authority was liable, since it had not painted the word “SLOW” on the
road surface just below the crest. The House of Lords denied liability.
Lord Hoffmann stated that the exceptions he had adverted to in Stovin
may have been ill-advised and that he now found it difficult to imagine
a case in which a common law duty could be founded simply upon the
“failure (however irrational) to provide some benefit which a public
authority has the power (or a public law duty) to provide”.110 This
statement applies to both powers and duties and renders it even more
difficult for a claimant to succeed than hitherto. Lord Scott was
similarly restrictive, stating that if a statutory duty did not give rise to a
private right to sue for breach, then the duty could not create a duty of
care that would not have been owed at common law if the statute were
not there.111 The decision is problematic and not easy to reconcile with
other relevant case law.112
This approach was reaffirmed in GN. Lord Reed, having surveyed
the authorities, including Stovin and Gorringe, summarised the
position113:
“It follows (1) that public authorities may owe a duty of care in circumstances where the
principles applicable to private individuals would impose such a duty, unless such a duty
would be inconsistent with, and is therefore excluded by, the legislation from which their
powers or duties are derived; (2) that public authorities do not owe a duty of care at common
law merely because they have statutory powers or duties, even if, by exercising their
statutory functions, they could prevent a person from suffering harm; and (3) that public
authorities can come under a common law duty to protect from harm in circumstances where
the principles applicable to private individuals or bodies would impose such a duty, as for
example where the authority has created the source of danger or has assumed a responsibility
to protect the claimant from harm, unless the imposition of such a duty would be inconsistent
with the relevant legislation”.
E. Comment
30–024 The case law concerning negligence and public authorities has
developed over time, as attested to by the preceding discussion. The
period has, as noted by Lord Reed, “been marked by shifting
approaches by the highest court”.114 It is therefore especially important
to stand back and reflect on central features of this development and
the status quo as reflected in the case law. The ensuing points are
related, albeit distinct.
30–026 The choices open to the judiciary in this respect are reflected in the
differences of view as between Lord Reed, giving the majority
judgment in Robinson, and Lord Mance in his concurring judgment.
Thus, both agreed that courts are not policy-making bodies akin to the
Law Commission, and both acknowledged that
the exercise of judgement on the consequences of a decision on
negligence liability could play a role in deciding whether a novel duty
of care existed.115
Lord Mance, however, emphasised the judicial choice in deciding
whether a case fell within an established category, thereby obviating
the need for separate consideration of policy. He noted that Lord Reed
treated physical loss resulting foreseeably from positive conduct “as
constituting axiomatically such a category, whatever the precise
circumstances”.116 Lord Mance treated that principle as generally
correct, but was not “persuaded that it is always a safe guide at the
margins”.117 Policy considerations could, said Lord Mance, shape
police liability even where it took the form of positive action, rather
than an omission, although he agreed with the conclusion on the facts
reached by the majority.118
It should moreover be recognised that policy considerations can be
relevant in deciding whether a tortious claim based on assumption of
responsibility can be sustained. This is particularly relevant in relation
to public authorities, since for the reasons explicated below such
actions will commonly turn on this issue.
iii. Duty of care: limits
30–027 The line between the general principles of negligence liability and
their application to public bodies is apparent in discussion of whether
the general limits to the duty of care should apply in the same manner
to cases involving public bodies, as to those involving private parties.
The limits were set out above, the general rule being that there is no
liability for: omissions; failure to exercise a statutory power; failure to
confer a benefit; or acts of third parties.119 These limits to liability may
arise in the same case. We should, however, be mindful of the
assumptions that underlie the limits of negligence liability as applied
to public bodies.
First, the limits render it more difficult for a claimant to maintain
an action against a public authority than against a private party. The
principle in Robinson/GN, to the effect that public authorities may owe
a duty of care in circumstances where the principles applicable to
private individuals would impose such a duty, is subject to the
qualification that the duty may be excluded where it is inconsistent
with the legislation from which the powers or duties are derived. This
can be accepted, but much turns on a value judgment as to when a duty
of care would be inconsistent with the relevant legislation.
Secondly, it is in any event difficult for the plaintiff to establish
that such a duty of care at common law does or should exist: public
authorities do not owe a duty of care at common law merely because
they have statutory powers or duties, even if, by exercising their
statutory functions, they could prevent a person from suffering
harm.120 This limit applies to duties as well as powers; it applies even
if it is reasonably foreseeable that harm would be suffered; it applies at
the duty level, thereby forestalling nuanced consideration of whether
the public authority
would have been in breach of a duty of care, if one were held to exist;
and the limit does not depend on there being supervening policy
considerations that preclude a duty of care.
Thirdly, the limit discussed in the previous paragraph is predicated
on certain assumptions concerning the relation between a common law
duty of care and statutory duties/powers that are hidden and
contestable. The assumption takes various forms, but the starkest
variant is as follows: a public body acts pursuant to statute, and
therefore any duty of care should prima facie be found to flow from
the statute; if that cannot be found then the absence thereof cannot be
circumvented by reliance on a common law duty of care.121 Public
bodies act pursuant to statute in roughly 95% of instances where they
exercise power, so the reasoning is important. There are two
difficulties with this reasoning. It is not consistent with that in breach
of statutory duty cases, wherein the courts decide whether a cause of
action should be available pursuant to the statute by considering, inter
alia, whether there is an existing remedy at common law. It is,
moreover, premised on assumptions concerning judicial analysis when
deciding whether there is an action for breach of statutory duty. The
reality is, as will be seen below, that courts normally work on the
assumption that liability pursuant to a statute must be strict, and hence
are reluctant to impose such a duty, even though there is no a priori
reason why the duty must be conceived in these strict terms. There is
therefore no consideration of whether a statutory duty of care might be
appropriate. The plaintiff is then placed in a circular dilemma: the
attempt to plead a common law duty of care is conceptualised as
seeking to achieve what cannot be achieved through recourse to
construction of the statute, even though the courts when construing the
statute in the context of an action for breach of statutory duty
commonly given no cognisance to a statutory duty of care, or anything
other than strict liability.
30–028 Fourthly, the consequence of the foregoing reasoning is that in many
instances the case will turn on whether the claimant can convince the
court that the public body assumed a responsibility that warrants
imposition of a duty of care. This determination is an admixture of the
construction of the particular statute, and the behaviour of the public
body. However, it also irreducibly entails consideration of policy, in
the sense of a judicial determination whether the public body should
be subject to such liability, given the nature of its statutory powers and
duties.122
Fifthly, it is overly formalistic to draw a radical division between
those instances in which a public body is granted a statutory
discretionary power, and those areas where it is vested with a statutory
duty. The distinction may be difficult to draw as a matter of statutory
interpretation. The legislature will often not have given any great
thought as to whether the statute is framed in one form rather than the
other. Many statutory duties contain discretionary elements. Perhaps
most important is the fact that the general assumption underlying the
grant of discretionary powers is that they will be exercised in some
shape, manner or form. The reason for casting the statute in
discretionary rather than mandatory
terms is normally reflective of the fact that the problem requires
choices to be made by the public body as to how it carries out the
statutory remit.
Sixthly, the position of a public body vested with a discretionary
power is not the same as that of a private individual who simply
“happens” upon some accident. The reasons for the reluctance to
impose liability in cases of pure omission concerning private
individuals are questionable,123 and are not necessarily transferable to
public bodies with discretionary powers. As Arrowsmith notes124:
“[O]ne of the main policy reasons for the reluctance to develop duties in private law is that it
would impose an unfair burden, and constitute an excessive interference with private
autonomy, to require positive action. This argument has no application where there is a
public duty to consider whether and how to exercise a particular power.”
C. Comment
30–035 Three related comments on this jurisprudence are relevant. The first is
that there has been a marked reluctance to find that the conditions for
breach of statutory duty have been met in cases concerning public
bodies. The statutory construction demanded by the criteria for breach
of statutory duty has been explicitly or implicitly underpinned by
unwillingness to impose damages liability, more especially where the
state is undertaking welfare functions to which the claimant, in the
absence of the relevant legislation, would have no “right”. The courts’
jurisprudence has therefore been premised on certain background
assumptions about the correlation, or lack thereof, between statutory
duties and consequent monetary claims that are contestable.
The second comment concerns the standard of liability. The
impression given in the X case is that breach of statutory duty will or
must always mean strict liability.156 This does not have to be so. The
standard of liability will depend on construction of the legislation.157
The duty may be strict, it may simply be one of reasonable care, or it
may be an obligation to take action that is reasonably practicable.158
There is, moreover, no reason why the courts should not be able to
apply other standards of liability such as the serious breach test used
by the CJEU in assessing state liability in damages.159 This criterion
gives a court room for manoeuvre, which a strict liability standard
does not readily provide. The House of Lords decided not to find for
the plaintiffs in X and O’Rourke in part because this would impose
strict liability on the defendants. It did not wish to impose an onerous
strict duty on the defendants when they had to make complex
discretionary determinations. A test akin to that used by the CJEU
would have given their Lordships an extra option. They could have
held that the statute was intended to give rights to individuals, but that
proof of a serious breach was required for a damages action.
Thirdly, it is readily apparent that certain statutory duties contain
discretion as to how they should be carried out160 or they may entail
difficult points of statutory construction.161 The courts have been
disinclined to impose strict liability in such circumstances. A test like
that used by the CJEU does, however, enable the court to consider
such factors in the determination as to whether there has been a serious
breach on the facts of a particular case.
C. Comment
30–043 It is clear that the courts wish to place limits on the recovery of
damages under s.8. This is evident in the repeated emphasis on the
discretionary nature of the remedy, coupled with the related idea that a
declaration is the primary means of vindicating violations of
Convention rights. The factors identified by the courts as relevant to
the exercise of their discretion under s.8, such as the balancing of
public and private interest, and the limits placed on quantum, serve to
reinforce this. There is no doubt that the wording of s.8 of the HRA
renders the award of damages discretionary. It can nonetheless be
questioned as to whether the courts have interpreted the statutory
provisions too restrictively.
Thus, as Clayton has argued in relation to Anufrijeva, while the
principle of fair balance as between the individual and the public may
be inherent in the ECHR as a whole, the ECtHR has not applied “the
fair balance principle to questions of just satisfaction”, and hence the
“idea that the court should expressly balance an individual’s rights
with the general interest of the community before awarding damages
has no basis in ECtHR case law”.188 It is, moreover, doubtful whether
the language of s.8(4) of the HRA, which is cast in terms of taking
account of the principles from the ECtHR’s case law in deciding
whether to award damages, and the amount of any such award,
justifies the conclusion in Greenfield that HRA damages should
generally be at the same level as that in Strasbourg.
In more general terms Varuhas has argued that damages under the
HRA should be informed by a tort-based approach, and that this would
provide a more coherent foundation for the remedy than the current
approach of the courts.189 In a related vein Steele contends that
damages in tort are more regularly given for violation of rights than
under the HRA where monetary compensation is somewhat
peripheral.190
30–045 In Bourgoin194 it was held that there could be an action where the
public body exceeded its powers either maliciously or knowingly. It is
accepted that there are two limbs to the tort. A public officer can be
liable for misfeasance in public office either: where the public officer
performed or omitted to perform an act with the object of injuring the
claimant, what is known as targeted malice; or where he performed an
act which he knew he had no power to perform, and which he knew
would probably injure the claimant.
It was made clear in Three Rivers that these were alternative and
not cumulative ingredients of the cause of action. Malice in the sense
of intent to injure was central to the first limb of the tort, while
knowledge on the part of the public officer that he did not have the
power to do the act in question was the central element of the second
limb of the tort. The litigation in Three Rivers was directed towards
the more specific requirements necessary to prove the second limb of
the cause of action, since there was no allegation that the Bank had
been guilty of targeted malice.
30–046 It is, however, necessary to consider some of the older case law to
understand the way in which the argument proceeded in the Three
Rivers case. Malicious excess of power had its origin in Ashby v
White195 and the dissent by Holt CJ. The plaintiff was wrongfully
prevented from voting and he brought an action on the case against the
returning officer. He failed in the King’s Bench, where the majority
gave various reasons for rejecting the claim.196 But Holt CJ’s spirited
dissent was upheld by the House of Lords. The plaintiff had a right to
vote and he must have a remedy to vindicate that right. It was
questionable whether Holt CJ required malice or not.197 However,
later cases held that malice was the essence of the action.198
There is, however, a crucial ambiguity in the meaning ascribed to
malice in this context. This could be taken to mean that there has to be
some intent to injure the claimant. It could alternatively mean
something rather broader, akin to a deliberate and wilful abuse of
power, albeit without the need to prove any intent to injure as such. In
the Three Rivers case the Bank argued for the former reading of the
older case law, and the claimants for the latter.
This ambiguity as to the meaning of malice persisted in later case
law. A number of authorities provide some support for a tort based on
malicious excess of power. In Smith199 the plaintiff could not set aside
a compulsory purchase order because she was outside the six-week
time limit. The House of Lords believed that she could seek damages
against the clerk for knowingly, and in bad faith, procuring the
confirmation of the order. In Abdul Cader200 the plaintiff alleged that
he had been wrongfully and maliciously refused a licence. The court
held that if the licence had been maliciously refused a damages action
might be brought.201
30–047 There is also a group of cases that either deny the need for malice
entirely, requiring only a knowing excess of power, or so define
malice as to make it equivalent to knowledge. Farrington202 concerned
the withdrawal of the plaintiff’s liquor licence as a result of which he
had to close his hotel. Smith J said that the tort of misfeasance in a
public office was constituted by a public officer doing an act which to
his knowledge is an abuse of his office and thereby causing damage to
another. The defendant had withdrawn the licence knowing
that he did not have power to do so. Malice was not needed. In
Roncarelli203 the plaintiff claimed that his liquor licence had been
withdrawn arbitrarily as punishment for his support of the Jehovah’s
Witnesses. Rand J in delivering judgment against the defendant, the
Prime Minister of Quebec, described the cancellation of the licence on
this ground as malicious, but then proceeded to define malice as acting
for a reason and purpose knowingly foreign to the administration.204
The tensions as to the precise elements of the cause of action for
misfeasance in public office were also apparent in Commonwealth
cases. In Mengel205 the action was brought by the owners of two cattle
stations whose plans to sell their cattle were frustrated by the action of
two inspectors who placed the cattle under quarantine without
statutory authority to do so. The plurality in the High Court held that
misfeasance was not constituted simply by an act of a public officer,
which he knew was beyond power and which resulted in damage. It
was said that policy and principle required that liability should be
more closely confined. The tort should be limited in the same way as
other torts that imposed liability for the intentional infliction of harm.
Liability required an act that the public officer knew was beyond his
power, including reckless disregard of the means of ascertaining the
extent of his power, and a foreseeable risk of harm, or reckless
indifference to the harm which was caused.206 In a separate judgment
there were dicta by Brennan J, which could be taken to mean that
foreseeability of damage was not relevant, provided that the other
requisite elements of the cause of action, including causation were
present.
C. Comment
30–052 The contending arguments in Three Rivers threw into sharp relief the
nature and reach of the tort of misfeasance in public office. The
claimants wished to extend the tort so as to cover damage caused by
unlawful governmental action, and hence argued that knowledge of the
illegality should embrace objective recklessness. The House of Lords
was unwilling to take this step. Subsequent case law has emphasised
that the claimant must prove knowledge or subjective recklessness as
to the lawfulness of the public officer’s acts and the consequences of
them, and that mere reckless indifference will not suffice for
liability.216 This renders it difficult for any action to succeed, more
especially because it is for the claimant to prove the requisite
recklessness. The case law on misfeasance therefore directly raises the
issue of whether there should be some redress for those who suffer loss
as a result of unlawful governmental action, which will be considered
below.217
6. NUISANCE
C. Comment
30–055 There are difficulties with the case law in this area, which relate to the
internal coherence of the courts’ jurisprudence and its normative
foundations.
There are problems concerning the internal coherence of the case
law. It is, for example, doubtful whether the test in Allen can reconcile
all the cases.230 The test of inevitability set out above may also be
inappropriate in the context of statutory powers that require a public
body to do a variety of work in a given area as and when the body
deems it expedient to do so.231 More important is the fact that whether
the test of inevitability is satisfied can be fortuitous, being dependent
on the wording of the enabling statute. Whether the statute is framed in
terms of a duty or a power, or within the latter category a power that
specifies a site and method, is often dependent upon factors that should
not be determinative of whether an action for nuisance survives or not.
Many modern statutes are framed in permissive terms for
administrative reasons and contain no indication of site or
method because the matter is too complex, or best decided by the
public body. This tells us nothing about whether a private law action
should be sustainable or not.
The normative foundations of the courts’ jurisprudence are also
problematic. It is harsh to make the individual bear the loss arising
from socially beneficial activities. There is a strong argument for
placing the cost on those who take the benefit of the relevant activity.
This was recognised by Lord Blanesburgh in Farnworth.232 It was
acknowledged more recently by Lord Phillips MR in the Court of
Appeal in Marcic.233 He stated that where a single house was at the
risk of flooding by sewerage once every five years, this might not
justify the investment to remove the risk. It did not, however, follow
that the householder should receive no compensation. The flooding
was the consequence of a sewerage system that benefited many. Those
who used the sewerage system should therefore be charged a sufficient
amount to cover the cost of paying compensation to the minority that
suffered damage. The House of Lords reiterated orthodoxy and held
that a cause of action in nuisance would be contrary to the statutory
scheme,234 although there were, as will be seen below, dicta
recognising the point made by Lord Phillips MR.
30–056 It is, in any event, not clear that nuisance is the most appropriate
medium whereby compensation should be granted. The criteria for
whether private rights of action survive derived from the case law are
ill-suited to much modern legislative activity.235 This is an area where
it is necessary to break away from the confines of “normal” legal
reasoning, which requires an actionable legal wrong as a pre-condition
for the payment of compensation. Justice may require that
compensation should be paid even where the public body’s action is
lawful.236 This “just result” has to some extent been achieved by
particular statutes and may flow more generally from the HRA. These
will be considered in turn.
The Land Compensation Act 1973 provides compensation where
the value of an interest in land is depreciated by physical factors
caused by the use of public works, whether highways, aerodromes, or
other works on land provided or used under statutory powers.237
Physical factors are defined as noise, smell, smoke, fumes, artificial
lighting, and the discharge of any substance onto the land.238 Interest
in land is defined to cover a freeholder or a leaseholder, with three
years of the term unexpired. The Act applies to any nuisance which
occurred on or after
17 October 1969.239 The compensation is assessed at prices current on
the first day when a claim could be made.240 Cases where
compensation could be obtained through an action in nuisance are in
general excluded from the Act.241
The HRA is also of relevance for the attainment of the “just result”
set out above. Claimants may be able to plead breach of a Convention
right in classic nuisance cases. Thus, in Hatton,242 the ECtHR found
that the noise flowing from the night-time landing regime at Heathrow
airport infringed the applicants’ right to family life guaranteed by art.8,
and awarded compensation. However, in a subsequent action the
ECtHR held in Hatton that although a person who was significantly
affected by noise or pollution could bring a claim under art.8, states
had a margin of appreciation that required them to weigh all the
competing interests involved. The extent of the margin of appreciation
depended on the facts of each case and the question as to whether the
appropriate balance had been struck depended on the weight given to
the different rights and interests involved. When assessing the
appropriateness of the balance, the measures available to mitigate the
effect of interference with those rights had to be considered and the
Strasbourg Court held that the UK had not exceeded the margin of
appreciation.243
30–057 The possibility of using the HRA and Convention rights was
considered in Marcic. The claimant’s garden and house were
periodically flooded by water and sewerage from a system that was
adequate when initially constructed, but had become inadequate
because of increase in the usage of the system. The Court of Appeal244
affirmed the claim based on a breach of art.8, protection of the home,
and breach of art.1 of the First Protocol, peaceful enjoyment of
possessions. The water authority could have prevented the flooding of
the claimant’s land, but argued that under its system of priorities there
was no prospect of the work being carried out in the future. The Court
of Appeal decided that the company’s scheme of priorities did not
strike a fair balance between the competing interests of the claimant
and other customers.245 It doubted moreover whether such a scheme
could ever be compatible with art.8, if this meant that the claimant
would suffer and receive no compensation. There is Strasbourg case
law to the effect that while the building of, for example, a power
station may be for the public good, the interference with the
applicant’s right might nonetheless be disproportionate where the
individual had to bear an unreasonable burden.246 Lord Phillips MR
said that this case law suggested that:
“… where an authority carries on an undertaking in the interest of the community as a whole
it may have to pay compensation to individuals whose rights are infringed by that
undertaking in order to achieve a fair balance between the interests of the individual and the
community”.247
The House of Lords reversed the Court of Appeal, and relying on the
approach in the second Hatton case,248 held that there was no breach
of Convention rights because the statutory scheme balanced the
interests of the defendant’s customers whose properties were subject to
flooding, with the remainder of its customers whose properties were
drained by the sewers, by imposing a general drainage obligation on
the defendant and entrusting enforcement to an independent regulator.
Lord Nicholls did, however, echo the sentiments of Lord Phillips MR.
Thus, Lord Nicholls stated that in principle, if it was not practicable
for reasons of expense to carry out remedial works for the time being,
those who enjoyed the benefit of effective drainage should bear the
cost of paying some compensation to those whose properties endured
the sewer flooding, since the flooding was the consequence of the
benefit to those making use of the system. Thus, “the minority who
suffer damage and disturbance as a consequence of the inadequacy of
the sewerage system ought not to be required to bear an unreasonable
burden”.249 This did not however give rise to any enforceable legal
claim, but was regarded as a matter to be considered by the relevant
administrative authorities.
The HRA can nonetheless be of assistance,250 although it is
dependent on a finding of a breach of the relevant Convention right,
which may not be easy.251 In Andrews there was a claim under art.8
ECHR to recover the cost of noise insulation to combat excessive
traffic noise consequent upon a traffic regulation made by the
defendants.252 The court held that a relevant factor in assessing
whether the right balance had been struck between the interests of the
individual and those of the community was the availability of
measures to mitigate the effects of noise. Although the rights of
residents were not afforded absolute protection under the 1998 Act, the
absence of any possibility of grant, or of any consideration whether
such a possibility of compensation should exist, could negate
justification for the measure advanced by the defendants. A court
subsequently granted compensation.253 Similarly, in Dennis254
Buckley J held that noise flowing from military aircraft engaged in
training was justified in the public interest. However, it was not
proportionate for specific individuals to bear the cost of the public
benefit. The noise was held to constitute a breach of art.8 ECHR and
art.1 of the First Protocol and compensation was awarded.
7. RYLANDS V FLETCHER
8. RESTITUTION
30–061 An individual may wish to claim the return of money that has been
paid to a public body rather than damages.268 A claim for judicial
review can include a claim for damages, restitution or the recovery of
a sum due, provided that these could have been awarded on a private
law claim. However, the claimant may not
seek such a remedy alone.269 Restitutionary claims present a strong
case for relief. The law has been shaped by important decisions of the
House of Lords in the Woolwich case270 and in Kleinwort Benson.271
In order to appreciate the impact of these decisions it is necessary to
understand the previous law. It was generally accepted that to recover
money that had been demanded without authority an individual would
have to bring the case within a recognised category in which such
recovery was allowed under private law.272 Duress and mistake were
the two principal foundations for a claim to restitution.
A. Duress
30–062 The classic situation is that of money paid to obtain fulfilment of a
duty, which the payee is not entitled to charge for at all, or for which a
lesser amount should be charged.273 This is an established category
within duress.274 The utility of the action for money had and received
depends upon the meaning given to “compulsion”. The broader the
idea of compulsion becomes, the more closely will a restitutionary
claim approximate to a finding of ultra vires. In Steele,275 the plaintiff
applied to the defendant, a parish clerk, for authorisation to search the
parish register. The charge was not levied until the search had been
completed and there was no right to make the charge at all. Martin
B276 based his decision on a broad ground. The defendant had a duty
to receive only what the Act of Parliament allowed him to take and
nothing more. It was irrelevant whether the actual payment took place
before or after the search had been made. To call such a payment a
voluntary payment would be an abuse of language.
There is support for treating demands by a public body differently
from those made by an individual in the Commonwealth,277 and in
cases concerning public utilities.278 In the latter the courts have
allowed recovery because of the wrongful demand per se. The
compulsion flows from the excess charge, and the claimant does not
have to prove any express threat to withhold the service. The statutes
are often either technically complex, or contain criteria such as “undue
discrimination”, which may be difficult for either party to interpret. In
this context, to require overt threats by the public body or even protest
by the individual is unrealistic. The force implicit in a demand from a
public body should suffice.
There was a problem that flowed from a wide construction of the term
compulsion, in that it came close to granting compensation for pure
mistake of law, and such mistakes were, until relatively recently, not
thought to ground a restitutionary claim.
B. Mistake
30–063 The general principle was that money paid under mistake of fact was
recoverable, but that money paid under mistake of law was not.279 The
inability to recover for mistake of law was criticised judicially280 and
academically.281 The problem in the past for those seeking recovery
was that the wider recovery for duress became, the finer was the
dividing line between cases characterised as involving duress and
those classified as involving simple mistake of law.282
The typical fact situation dealt with until now has been where the
claimant has paid money for a service, which the public body should
provide for less or for no charge at all. Where, however, the public
body simply demanded money that it believed it was entitled to, but
the claim was misconceived because of a misconstruction of a statute,
the position of the private party was even more difficult. The private
party might pay, discover the error and attempt to reclaim the money.
This would normally fail because the payment would be made on a
mistake of law. Alternatively, the private party might resist the claim.
This would be met by an express threat by the public body. The threat
would, however, normally be a threat to litigate and such threats were
held not to be actionable. This was a development of the principle that
a judgment is binding between the parties to it.283
The law was transformed by Kleinwort Benson.284 The case was
one of many285 that arose out of interest rate swaps agreements made
by local authorities. These agreements were held to be ultra vires.286
The agreements were thought to be valid when they were made and
had been fully performed. The claim by the bank was struck out in the
lower courts, because there was no recovery for mistake of law. The
case then went to the House of Lords which held that mistakes,
whether of fact or law, could ground a restitutionary claim, subject to
general restitutionary defences such as change of position. A blanket
rule prohibiting recovery for mistake of law was, said their Lordships,
inconsistent with a law of restitution based on unjust enrichment. A
claim for mistake of law
could also cover the case where payments had been made under a
settled understanding of the law, which was subsequently departed
from by judicial decision. Payment made under a view of the law that
later proved to be erroneous was still money paid over under mistake
of law, since the payer believed when making the payments that there
was an obligation to do so. If it subsequently appeared that on the law
held to be applicable at the date of payment that there was no such
obligation then there should be recovery of the amount paid over. It is,
however, clear from the Supreme Court decision in Prudential
Assurance that the declaratory theory of the law on which the
reasoning in Kleinwort Benson is based can lead to problems in
relation to limitation periods and impact on public finances.287
The House of Lords subsequently held in Deutsche Morgan
Grenfell288 that the principle from Kleinwort Benson could apply to
recovery of taxes paid under a mistake of law. The claimants had paid
certain money to the revenue and the statutory regime had been found
contrary to EU law by the ECJ. It was held that the claimants could
avail themselves of restitutionary relief for mistake of law. This was
important on the facts, since the characterisation of the cause of action
as mistake of law affected the limitation period that applied and when
it would start from.289
D. Discretionary Payments
30–068 If a claimant cannot sustain a right to repayment of sums paid to a
public body, an action may still be brought challenging the
discretionary refusal to reimburse such money. Thus, in Chetnik
Developments318 the local authority possessed a statutory discretion to
refund overpaid rates, but refused to reimburse the applicant because
the payments had been made under a mistake of law, which would not
be recoverable at common law. The House of Lords held that the
discretion was not unfettered, and struck down the refusal to reimburse
the applicant. It held that such sums paid under a mistake of law or
erroneous valuation should not in general be retained unless there were
special circumstances warranting the retention. The financial position
of the applicant and the general finances of the local authority should
not be relevant considerations for the exercise of this discretionary
decision. However, there are also indications that the principle in the
Chetnik case will only apply where there is an express statutory
discretion to repay, where the courts will ensure that the discretion is
exercised in accordance with the statutory intent.319
9. JUDICIAL IMMUNITY
30–070 The law draws a distinction between liability for intra vires and ultra
vires acts, and between different types of courts. The precise metes
and bounds of liability are not entirely clear, but would appear to be as
follows.
No judge, whether of a superior or inferior court, is liable if acting
within jurisdiction, even if this is done maliciously.324 This immunity
would appear to apply to justices of the peace.325
No judge of a superior court is liable in damages for an act done
outside jurisdiction, provided that this was done by the judge in the
honest belief that the act was within jurisdiction.326 Liability will only
attach for knowingly acting outside jurisdiction.327
An inferior court is one that is subject to the control of the
prerogative orders. Justices of the peace can be liable for acts done
outside their jurisdiction,328 and it appears that this liability attaches to
other inferior courts.329 The phrase acting without or in excess of
jurisdiction is, however, interpreted more narrowly than in the context
of an ordinary action for judicial review which seeks to quash the
finding of a public body.330
10. REFORM
F. Conclusion
30–079 The general conclusions to be drawn about tort liability and public
bodies are deceptively simple: we either live with what we have or we
create something new. The prospects of reform in the short term are
not good, given the fate of the Law Commission study. It might be
argued that this is a welcome outcome and that any reform should be
piecemeal rather than general. It should nonetheless be recognised that
any decisions made about a particular area will have broader
ramifications. Thus, the decision to grant a novel form of
compensation in one area necessarily leads to consideration of whether
it is fair or just that it should be absent in a different context. Reform
may be piecemeal in practice, but the broader issues outlined above
cannot be ignored.
2002; Cooper v Wandsworth Board of Works (1863) 14 C.B. (N.S.) 180; Pride
of Derby and Derbyshire Angling Association Ltd v British Celanese Ltd [1953]
Ch. 149, CA; P. Craig, “Compensation in Public Law” (1980) 96 L.Q.R. 413.
3 X (Minors) v Bedfordshire CC [1995] 2 A.C. 633 HL at 730.
7 Thus, in France the starting point is that “toute illegalité constitue par elle-
meme une faute”.
8 H. Street, Governmental Liability (1953), pp.40, 56−80; C. Harlow,
Compensation and Government Torts (1982); S. Arrowsmith, Civil Liability and
Public Authorities (1992), Ch.6; G. Ganz, “Compensation for Negligent
Administrative Action” [1973] P.L. 84; C. Harlow, “Fault Liability in French
and English Public Law” (1976) 39 M.L.R. 516; P. Craig, “Negligence in the
Exercise of a Statutory Power” (1978) 94 L.Q.R. 428; M. Bowman and S.
Bailey, “Negligence in the Realms of Public Law—A Positive Obligation to
Rescue” [1984] P.L. 277; T. Weir, “Governmental Liability” [1989] P.L. 40; M.
Andenas and D. Fairgrieve, “Sufficiently Serious? Judicial Restraint in Tortious
Liability of Public Authorities and the European Influence”, in M. Andenas
(ed.), English Public Law and the Common Law of Europe (London: Key
Haven, 1998), Ch.14; S. Bailey and M. Bowman, “Public Authority Negligence
Revisited” [2000] C.L.J.; P. Craig and D. Fairgrieve, “Barrett, Negligence and
Discretionary Powers” [1999] P.L. 626; D. Fairgrieve, “Pushing Back the
Frontiers of Public Authority Liability” [2002] P.L. 288; T. Hickman, “Tort
Law, Public Authorities and the Human Rights Act 1998”, in D. Fairgrieve, M.
Andenas and J. Bell (eds), Tort Liability of Public Authorities in Comparative
Perspective (2002): T. Hickman, “The Reasonableness Principle: Re-assessing
its Place in the Public Sphere” [2004] C.L.J. 166; R. Bagshaw, “Monetary
Remedies in Public Law—Misdiagnosis and Misprescription” [2006] L.S. 4; Sir
B. Markesinis and J. Fedtke, “Damages for the Negligence of Statutory Bodies:
The Empirical and Comparative Dimensions to an Unending Debate” [2007]
P.L. 299.
9 X [1995] 2 A.C. 633 at 732−733.
15 Geddis v Proprietors of Bann Reservoir (1878) 3 App. Cas. 430 at 438, 452,
455−456; East Fremantle Corp v Annois [1902] A.C. 213 at 217−219; Great
Central Ry Co v Hewlett [1916] 2 A.C. 511 HL at 519, 525; Fisher v Ruislip-
Northwood UDC and Middlesex CC [1945] K.B. 584 CA.
16 Donoghue v Stevenson [1932] A.C. 562 HL.
18 East Suffolk Rivers Catchment Board v Kent [1940] 1 K.B. 319 CA; [1941]
A.C. 74 HL.
19 Dorset Yacht Co Ltd v Home Office [1970] A.C. 1004 HL.
1066−1068.
21 For an interesting comparison see, Evangelical United Brethren Church of
24 On the alternative hypothesis that the defendant had not exercised the power,
Lord Wilberforce held that although the defendant was under no duty to inspect
it was under a duty to consider whether it should inspect or not. Negligence
liability would ensue if the defendant failed to take reasonable care in its acts or
omissions to secure compliance with the byelaws, Anns [1978] A.C. 728 at 755.
25 Rowling v Takaro Properties Ltd [1988] A.C. 473. See also Stovin v Wise
[1996] A.C. 923 HL at 951−952; Barrett v Enfield LBC [2001] 2 A.C. 550 HL.
26 M. Bowman and S. Bailey, “Negligence in the Realms of Public Law—A
28 Caparo Industries Plc v Dickman [1990] 2 A.C. 605 HL; Governors of the
Peabody Donation Fund v Sir Lindsay Parkinson and Co Ltd [1985] A.C. 210
HL; Investors in Industry Commercial Properties Ltd v South Bedfordshire DC
[1986] Q.B. 1034 DC; Murphy v Brentwood DC [1991] 1 A.C. 398 HL; D.
Nolan, “Deconstructing the Duty of Care” (2013) 129 L.Q.R. 559.
29 X [1995] 2 A.C. 633.
31 Caparo Industries [1990] 2 A.C. 605; Michael v Chief Constable of the South
36 See also Alexandrou v Oxford [1993] 4 All E.R. 328 CA (Civ Div); Vellino v
Chief Constable of Greater Manchester [2002] 1 W.L.R. 218 CA (Civ Div);
Cowan v Chief Constable of Avon and Somerset [2002] H.L.R. 44 CA (Civ Div).
Compare, however, Swinney v Chief Constable of the Northumbria Police
[1997] Q.B. 464 CA (Civ Div); Swinney v Chief Constable of the Northumbria
Police (No.2) [1999] Admin. L.R. 811.
37 Capital and Counties Plc v Hampshire CC [1997] Q.B. 1004 CA (Civ Div).
38 OLL Ltd v Secretary of State for the Home Department [1997] 3 All E.R. 897
QBD.
39 X [1995] 2 A.C. 633.
51 Stovin [1996] A.C. 923 at 949, 953. It was also made clear that any such claim
would be limited to those instances where the action of the public body had
made things worse than if it had not acted at all. There would be no such claim
where the plaintiff alleged that there had been a failure to confer a benefit on the
plaintiff or a failure to protect him from loss, Stovin [1996] A.C. 923 at 949.
52 Stovin [1996] A.C. 923 at 949−950.
54 Sutherland Shire Council v Heyman (1985) 157 C.L.R. 424 at 464, Mason J.
The doctrine now seems to have passed out of favour, Pyrenees Shire Council v
Day (1998) 192 C.L.R. 330.
55 Stovin [1996] A.C. 923 at 953−955.
59 Barrett [2001] 2 A.C. 550 at 586−587; Phelps [2001] 2 A.C. 619 at 659−660,
662; Richards (t/a Colin Richards & Co) v Hughes [2004] EWCA Civ 266;
Mutua v Foreign and Commonwealth Office [2011] EWHC 1913.
60 Barrett [2001] 2 A.C. 550.
66 Dorset Yacht [1970] A.C. 1004; Anns [1978] A.C. 728; Rowling [1988] A.C.
473.
67 Barrett [2001] 2 A.C. 550 at 583.
72 The claimant might argue that the public body failed to take reasonable care in
determining the limits of its powers. However, to reason from a decision of
invalidity, to the conclusion that the policy choice when made prior to that
decision was made without reasonable care as to the limits of the public body’s
statutory powers, will only be possible in rare cases where those statutory limits
are laid down in clear unambiguous terms. This is not often the case, see,
Dunlop v Woollahra Municipal Council [1982] A.C. 158; Rowling [1988] A.C.
473.
73 Barrett [2001] 2 A.C. 550 at 591; Phelps [2001] 2 A.C. 619 at 655, 665,
667−668, 672.
74 Bolam v Friern Hospital Management Committee [1957] 1 W.L.R. 582 QBD
at 586−587.
75 Phelps [2001] 2 A.C. 619 at 655, 672; Bradford-Smart v West Sussex CC
97 Robinson [2018] UKSC 4 at [35]; referring to Barrett [2001] 2 A.C. 550; and
Benefit” (2011) 127 L.Q.R. 260; Rice [2007] EWCA Civ 289.
113 GN [2019] UKSC 25 at [65].
123 P. Cane, Atiyah’s, Accidents, Compensation and the Law, 7th edn
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006).
124 S. Arrowsmith, Civil Liability and Public Authorities (1992), pp.183−184.
127 Robinson [2018] UKSC 4 at [35]; GN [2019] UKSC 25 at 28, 73, 81–82.
133 Lord Hoffmann, “Human Rights and the House of Lords” (1999) 62 M.L.R.
159; T. Weir, “Down Hill—All the Way” [1999] C.L.J. 4; M. Lunney, “A Tort
Lawyer’s View of Osman v UK” [1999] K.C.L.J. 238; P. Craig and D.
Fairgrieve, “Barrett, Negligence and Discretionary Powers” [1999] P.L. 626; A.
Davies, “The European Convention and Negligence Actions: Osman
‘Reviewed’” (2001) 117 L.Q.R. 521. Support for Osman can be found in J.
Wright, “The Retreat from Osman: Z v United Kingdom in the European Court
of Human Rights and Beyond’, in D. Fairgrieve, M. Andenas and J. Bell (eds),
Tort Liability of Public Authorities in Comparative Perspective (2002), Ch.3.
134 Z v UK (2002) 34 E.H.R.R. 3.
137 R. (K) v Camden and Islington Health Authority [2002] Q.B. 198 CA (Civ
Div) at [54].
138 K. Stanton, Breach of Statutory Duty in Tort (London: Sweet & Maxwell,
1986); R. Buckley, “Liability in Tort for Breach of Statutory Duty” (1984) 100
L.Q.R. 204; K. Stanton et al., Statutory Torts (London: Sweet & Maxwell,
2003); K. Stanton, “New Forms of the Tort of Breach of Statutory Duty” (2004)
120 L.Q.R. 324.
139 Com Dig tit “Action Upon Statute”, F; Sterling v Turner (1672) 1 Ventris
206; Rowning v Goodchild (1773) 2 W. Black 906; Schinotti v Bumsted (1796) 6
T.R. 646; Barry v Arnaud (1839) 10 Ad. & E. 646; Ferguson v Kinnoull (1842)
9 Cl. & F. 251; Pickering v James (1872–73) L.R. 8 C.P. 489.
140 Atkinson v Newcastle & Gateshead Waterworks Co (1877) 2 Ex. D. 441;
restricting the broad approach in Couch v Steel (1854) 3 E. & B. 402. Despite
occasional reference to the broad view as in Dawson v Bingley UDC [1911] 2
K.B. 149 CA at 159, the courts have applied the criteria which govern breach of
statutory duty generally; Pasmore v Oswaldtwistle UDC [1898] A.C. 387 HL;
Read v Croydon Corp [1938] 4 All E.R. 631; Reffell v Surrey CC [1964] 1
W.L.R. 358 QBD; De Falco v Crawley BC [1980] Q.B. 460 CA (Civ Div);
Booth v NEB [1978] 3 All E.R. 624 QBD; Lonrho Ltd v Shell Petroleum (No.2)
[1982] A.C. 173 HL; R. v Deputy Governor of Parkhurst Prison, Ex p. Hague
[1992] 1 A.C. 58 HL; X [1995] 2 A.C. 633 at 731−732; Peabody [1985] A.C.
210 at 241; Curran [1987] A.C. 718.
141 Atkinson (1877) 2 Ex. D. 441 at 448; Hague [1992] 1 A.C. 58; X [1995] 2
A.C. 633 at 731−732; Morrison Sports Ltd v Scottish Power Plc [2010] UKSC
37.
142 Phillips v Britannia Hygienic Laundry Co Ltd [1923] 2 K.B. 832 CA.
146 Atkinson (1877) 2 Ex. D. 441; Groves v Lord Wimborne [1898] 2 Q.B. 402,
CA; Cutler v Wandsworth Stadium Ltd [1949] A.C. 398 HL.
147 Gorris v Scott (1873–74) L.R. 9 Ex. 125; Peabody [1985] A.C. 210 at 241;
Curran [1987] A.C. 718.
148 Watt v Kesteven CC [1955] 1 Q.B. 408 CA; Wood v Ealing LBC [1967] Ch.
364 Ch D; Cummings v Birkenhead Corp [1972] Ch. 12 CA (Civ Div); cf.
Meade v Haringey LBC [1979] 1 W.L.R. 637 CA (Civ Div); Att Gen ex rel
Mcwhirter v Independent Broadcasting Authority [1973] Q.B. 629 at 649; P.
Cane, “Ultra vires Breach of Statutory Duty” [1981] P.L. 11.
149 Compare Ching v Surrey CC [1910] 1 K.B. 736 CA; and Reffell v Surrey CC
[1964] 1 W.L.R. 358 QBD; with Watt [1955] 1 Q.B. 408; and Wood [1967] Ch.
364.
150 X [1995] 2 A.C. 633 at 731−732.
155 Clunis v Camden & Islington Health Authority [1998] Q.B. 978 CA (Civ
Div); Olotu v Home Office [1997] 1 W.L.R. 328 CA (Civ Div); Cullen v Chief
Constable of the Royal Ulster Constabulary [2003] 1 W.L.R. 1763; Gorringe
[2004] 1 W.L.R. 1057 HL; Neil Martin Ltd v Revenue and Customs
Commissioners [2007] EWCA Civ 1041; St John Poulton’s Trustee in
Bankruptcy v Ministry of Justice [2010] EWCA Civ 392; Morrison [2010]
UKSC 37.
156 X [1995] 2 A.C. 633 at 731−732.
157 R.A. Buckley, “Liability in Tort for Breach of Statutory Duty” (1984) 100
L.Q.R. 204, 222−225; K.M. Stanton, “New Forms of the Tort of Breach of
Statutory Duty” (2004) 120 L.Q.R. 324, 331−333.
158 Jayne v National Coal Board [1963] 2 All E.R. 220; Edwards v National
Coal Board [1949] 1 K.B. 704 CA.
159 Brasserie du Pecheur SA v Germany, R. v Secretary of State for Transport,
Ex p. Factortame Ltd (C-46 & 48/93) [1996] E.C.R. I-1029.
160 See, e.g. Haydon v Kent CC [1978] Q.B. 343 CA (Civ Div).
162 Law Commission No.266 and Scot Law Commission No.180, Damages
under the Human Rights Act 1998 (2000), Cmnd.4853; D. Fairgrieve, “The
Human Rights Act 1998, Damages and Tort Law” [2001] P.L. 695.
163 Law Commission No.266 and Scot Law Commission No.180, Damages
under the Human Rights Act 1998, paras 3.4−3.15; Judge Jean-Paul Costa, “The
Provision of Compensation under Article 41 of the European Convention on
Human Rights”, in D. Fairgrieve, M. Andenas and J. Bell (eds), Tort Liability of
Public Authorities in Comparative Perspective (2002), Ch.1; A. Mowbray, “The
European Court of Human Rights Approach to Just Satisfaction” [1997] P.L.
647.
164 42 USC section 1983; Bivens v Six Unknown Named Agents of the Federal
Law” [2001] P.L. 695, 696; Law Commission No.266 and Scot Law
Commission No.180, Damages under the Human Rights Act 1998, para.4.20; A.
Lester and D. Pannick, “The Impact of the Human Rights Act on Private Law:
The Knight’s Move” (2000) 116 L.Q.R. 380, 382; Lord Woolf, “The Human
Rights Act 1998 and Remedies”, in M. Andenas and D. Fairgrieve (eds),
Judicial Review in International Perspective: Volume II (Arnhem: Kluwer Law
International, 2000), p.432.
169 Except to compensate a person to the extent required by art.5(5) ECHR.
170 Lord Woolf, “The Human Rights Act 1998 and Remedies”, in M. Andenas
and D. Fairgrieve (eds), Judicial Review in International Perspective: Volume II
(2000), p.433.
171 D. Fairgrieve, “The Human Rights Act 1998, Damages and Tort Law” [2001]
P.L. 695, 700.
172 Anufrijeva v Southwark LBC [2004] Q.B. 1124 CA (Civ Div); Husson [2020]
EWCA Civ 329; R. (Idolo) v Bromley LBC [2020] EWHC 860 (Admin).
173 Anufrijeva [2004] Q.B. 1124 at [45].
176 R. (Infinis Plc) v Gas and Electricity Markets Authority [2013] EWCA Civ
70.
177 Idolo [2020] EWHC 860.
180 Anufrijeva [2004] Q.B. 1124 at [64], [66]−[68]; Lord Woolf, “The Human
185 Greenfield [2005] 1 W.L.R. 673 at [19]; R. (Sturnham) v Parole Board for
England and Wales [2013] UKSC 23.
186 Greenfield [2005] 1 W.L.R. 673 at [19].
Act 1998” (2009) 72 M.L.R. 750; J. Varuhas, Damages and Human Rights
(Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2016).
190 J. Steele, “Damages in Tort and under the Human Rights Act: Remedial or
CA (Civ Div) at 775−778, 788; Dunlop [1982] A.C. 158; Calveley v Chief
Constable of the Merseyside Police [1989] A.C. 1228 HL. The courts
disapproved of the potentially broad application of Beaudesert Shire Council v
Smith (1966) 120 C.L.R. 145 in Dunlop [1982] A.C. 158 at 170−171; and in
Lonhro Ltd v Shell Petroleum (No.2) [1982] A.C. 173 HL at 188.
195 Ashby v White (1703) 2 Ld. Raym. 938; 3 Ld. Raym. 320.
196 The matter was judicial; that it was for Parliament; multiplicity of similar
actions, see Ashby (1703) 2 Ld. Raym. 938 at 941−942, 943, 947; cf. Holt CJ at
950−954.
197 His dissent in the Kings Bench did not require malice but, cf. Tozer v Child
200 David v Abdul Cader [1963] 1 W.L.R. 835; A. Bradley, “Liability for
204 Roncarelli [1959] 16 D.L.R. (2d) 689 at 706; Ferguson v Kinnoull (1842) 9
Cl. & F. 251 at 303.
205 Northern Territory v Mengel (1995) 69 A.L.J.R. 527.
206 Mengel (1995) 69 A.L.J.R. 527 at 540; Garrett v Att Gen [1997] 2 N.Z.L.R.
332; Rawlinson v Rice [1997] 2 N.Z.L.R. 651.
207 Three Rivers DC v Bank of England (No.3) [1996] 3 All E.R. 558 QBD.
209 Three Rivers DC v Bank of England (No.3) [2000] 2 W.L.R. 1220 HL.
212 Three Rivers DC v Bank of England (No.3) [2000] 2 W.L.R. 1220 HL; Three
HL; Muuse v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2010] EWCA Civ
453.
215 Watkins v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2006] 2 A.C. 395
Chagos Islanders v Att Gen [2004] EWCA Civ 997; Merelie v General Dentist
Council [2009] EWHC 1165 (QB).
217 See paras 30–071 to 30–078.
220 Failure to take care may be relevant where the defendant did not create the
initial nuisance, Sedleigh-Denfield v O’Callaghan [1940] A.C. 880 HL;
Goldman v Hargrave [1967] 1 A.C. 645; Holbeck Hall Hotel Ltd v Scarborough
BC [2000] Q.B. 836 CA (Civ Div).
221 R. v Pease (1832) 4 B. & Ad. 30; Vaughan v Taff Vale Ry Co (1860) 5 H. &
N. 679; Hammersmith & City Ry Co v Brand (1869–70) L.R. 4 H.L. 171;
London Brighton & South Coast Ry Co v Truman (1885) 11 App. Cas. 45;
Manchester Corp v Farnworth [1930] A.C. 171 HL; Dept of Transport v North
West Water Authority [1984] A.C. 336 HL at 359; A. Linden, “Strict Liability,
Nuisance and Legislative Authorization” (1966) Osgoode Hall LJ 196.
222 Pease (1832) 4 B. & Ad. 30; Vaughan (1860) 5 H. & N. 679; Brand (1869)
L.R. 4 H.L. 171; Truman (1886) 11 App. Cas. 45; Farnworth [1930] A.C. 171;
North West Water Authority [1984] A.C. 336; Metropolitan Asylum District
Managers v Hill (No.2) (1881) 6 App. Cas. 193 at 212.
223 Farnworth [1930] A.C. 171; Tate & Lyle Industries Ltd v Greater London
225 Re Simeon and Isle of Wight RDC [1937] Ch. 525 Ch D; Marten v Flight
233 Marcic v Thames Water Utilities Ltd [2002] Q.B. 929 CA (Civ Div) at [114].
235 The view of the House of Lords in the Allen case [1981] A.C. 1001 should be
237 Land Compensation Act 1973 s.1; R. (Plymouth City Airport Ltd) v Secretary
of State for the Environment, Transport and the Regions [2001] EWCA Civ 144;
Chrisostomou v Manchester CC [2007] R.V.R. 207; Robertson v Manchester
Airport [2010] UKUT 370; Thomas v Bridgend CBC [2011] EWCA Civ 862.
238 Land Compensation Act 1973 s.1(2).
241 Land Compensation Act 1973 s.1(6). See also Local Government, Planning
249 Marcic [2004] 2 A.C. 42 at 45. Lords Steyn, Scott and Hope agreed with
Lord Nicholls.
250 Dobson [2011] EWHC 3253 (TCC).
255 Rylands v Fletcher (1866) L.R. 1 Ex. 265 at 279−280; (1868) L.R. 3 H.L.
330.
256 Markesinis and Deakin’s Tort Law (2013), pp.518–523; R. Bagshaw,
“Rylands Confined” (2004) 120 L.Q.R. 388; D. Nolan, “The Distinctiveness of
Rylands v Fletcher” (2005) 121 L.Q.R. 421.
257 Rickards v Lothian [1913] A.C. 263 at 280; Cambridge Water Co Ltd v
Eastern Counties Leather Plc [1994] 2 A.C. 264; Transco Plc v Stockport MBC
[2004] 2 A.C. 1 HL.
258 Charing Cross Electricity Supply Co v Hydraulic Power Co [1914] 3 K.B.
772 CA; Midwood v Manchester Corp [1905] 2 K.B. 597 CA. A nuisance clause
is a specific section in the enabling statute preserving liability in nuisance. Such
a clause which preserves liability in nuisance has been construed to exclude
liability unless the public body has been negligent, Hammond v Vestry of St
Pancras (1874) L.R. 9 C.P. 316 at 322. Not perhaps the most natural
construction of such a clause.
259 Dunne v North Western Gas Board [1964] 2 Q.B. 806 CA at 837−838 (the
262 Compare the view of Sellers LJ in Dunne [1964] 2 Q.B. 806 at 832; with
267 Smeaton [1954] Ch. 450 would be covered, but Dunne [1964] 2 Q.B. 806
would not, since the Act is not concerned with physical injury, but with
depreciation in the value of land.
268 R. Williams, Unjust Enrichment and Public Law, A Comparative Study of
England, France and the EU (Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2010).
269 Senior Courts Act 1981 s.31(4); CPR 54.3(2).
276 Steele (1853) 8 Ex. 625 at 632−633. See also Morgan v Palmer (1824) 2 B.
& C. 729.
277 Mason v State of New South Wales (1958−1959) 102 C.L.R. 108.
278 Great Western Railway Co v Sutton (1869−70) L.R. 4 H.L. 226; South of
Scotland Electricity Board v British Oxygen Co Ltd (No.2) [1959] 1 W.L.R. 587
HL.
279 Bilbie v Lumley (1802) 2 East 469. The reasons given were that: there must
be an end to litigation, multiplicity of litigation, and the fact that everyone was
presumed to know the law.
280 Martindale v Falkner (1846) 2 C.B. 706 at 718−720; R. v Mayor of
Tewkesbury (1867−68) L.R. 3 Q.B. 629 at 635−638; Kiriri Cotton Co Ltd v
Dewani [1960] A.C. 192 at 203−205; Nepean Hydro Electric Commission v
Ontario Hydro (1982) 132 D.L.R. (3d) 193, Dickson J.
281 P. Winfield, “Mistake of Law” (1943) 59 L.Q.R. 327; Law Commission
No.227, Restitution: Mistakes of Law and Ultra vires Public Authority Receipts
and Payments (1994), Cmnd.2731.
282 Compare Morgan (1824) 2 B. & C. 729; and Steele (1853) 8 Ex. 625; with
Slater v Mayor of Burnley (1888) 59 L.T. 636.
283 J. Beatson, “Duress as a Vitiating Factor in Contract” [1974] C.L.J. 97; W.
Whiteley Ltd v King (1909) 101 L.T. 741.
284 Kleinwort Benson [1999] 2 A.C. 349.
285 Westdeutsche Landesbank Girozentrale v Islington LBC [1996] A.C. 669 HL.
[2007] 1 A.C. 558 HL; B. Hacker, “Still at the Crossroads” (2007) 123 L.Q.R.
177; G. Virgo, “Restitution from Public Authorities: Past, Present and Future”
[2006] J.R. 370; Sempra Metals Ltd (formerly Metallgesellschaft Ltd) v Inland
Revenue Commissioners [2007] 3 W.L.R. 354 HL.
289 Limitation Act 1980 s.32(1)(c).
290 For qualifications to the general rule that recovery was not possible see, Law
Commission No.227, Restitution: Mistakes of Law and Ultra Vires Public
Authority Receipts and Payments, pp.53−59.
291 Law Commission No.120, Restitution of Payments made under Mistake of
Law (1991), pp.74−84; Law Commission No.227, Restitution: Mistakes of Law
and Ultra Vires Public Authority Receipts and Payments.
292 Woolwich [1993] A.C. 70; Test Claimants in the FII Group Litigation v
Revenue and Customs Commissioners [2010] EWCA Civ 103; R. (Hemming (t/a
Simply Pleasure Ltd)) v Westminster CC [2013] EWCA Civ 591, decided on
other grounds [2017] UKSC 50; Ipswich Town Football Club v Chief Constable
of Suffolk [2017] EWHC 375 (QB); Vodafone Ltd v Office of Communications
[2020] Q.B. 857 (CA Civ); P. Birks, “‘When Money is Paid in Pursuance of a
Void Authority …’A Duty to Repay?” [1992] P.L. 580.
293 R. v Inland Revenue Commissioners, Ex p. Woolwich Equitable Building
304 Law Commission No.227, Restitution: Mistakes of Law and Ultra Vires
306 British Steel [1997] 2 All E.R. 366. See also Deutsche Morgan Grenfell
318 R. v Tower Hamlets LBC, Ex p. Chetnik Developments Ltd [1988] A.C. 858
HL.
319 Woolwich [1993] A.C. 70 at 171.
320 Auckland Harbour Board v R. [1924] A.C. 318; R. v Secretary of State for
326 Sirros [1975] Q.B. 118 at 134−135; McC [1985] A.C. 528 at 541, 550; Pius v
Fearnley [2013] EWHC 2216 (Ch).
327 Sirros [1975] Q.B. 118 at 136, 149; McC [1985] A.C. 528 at 540.
328 McC [1985] A.C. 528 at 541, 550, disapproving in this respect Sirros. See
631.
330 McC [1985] A.C. 528 at 542G, 543B, 544E, 546. The precise breadth of this
335 J. Fleming, “Drug Injury Compensation Plans” (1982) 30 Am. J. Comp. Law.
297.
336 Dorset Yacht [1970] A.C. 1004.
339 R. v Knowsley MBC, Ex p. Maguire [1992] C.O.D. 499 QBD. See also R.
(Quark Fishing Ltd) v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
(No.2) [2003] EWHC 1743; [2006] 1 A.C. 529.
340 There may, however, be cases where the disadvantage to the individual is not
the object of the legislation, but only an incident of it. This is a difficult line to
draw. In France there is a limited principle allowing recovery for losses caused
by legislation, N. Brown and J. Bell, French Administrative Law (1998),
pp.199−200.
341 Thus, a case in which public works affects property values is regarded as a
prime candidate for a risk theory, while one in which public action affects the
livelihood of a particular manufacturer is regarded as a candidate for
compensation only if there is invalidity.
342 P. Craig, “Compensation in Public Law” (1980) 96 L.Q.R. 413, 438−443.
343 Dunlop [1982] A.C. 158.
347 See, e.g. Takaro [1988] A.C. 473 and many others.
The breadth of the word “wrongful” is conveyed at p.333. In so far as the Report
considered these problems they were unmoved by them, p.364.
350 Lord Woolf, Protection of the Public—A New Challenge (London: Sweet &
scheme was given a statutory base, Criminal Justice Act 1988 Pt VII, Criminal
Injuries Compensation Act 1995; C. Harlow and R. Rawlings, Law and
Administration, 3rd edn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009),
pp.777–783.
360 R. v Criminal Injuries Compensation Board, Ex p. Lain [1967] 2 Q.B. 864
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