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Australian Institute of Policy and Science is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and
extend access to The Australian Quarterly
Contempt by the
media: how the
courts define it*
Not just a state of mind
A principle under which one may be guilty?that is, liable to suffer criminal
penalties?of 'contempt of court' would seem to establish an example of what
George Orwell in Nineteen Eighty-Four called a 'thought-crime'. It would
appear that one may fall foul of the law for simply 'scorning or despising'
a court, or considering it to be 'mean, vile or worthless' (the phrases in
quotation marks are taken from the Macquarie Dictionary definition of
contempt). In fact, the usage of 'contempt' in the law is as a term with heavy
ideological overtones, describing a wide range of conduct involving some
element of affront or resistance to the authority of the courts, or some degree
of interference with the administration of justice by the courts. It did not always
have this focus on institutional authority. In the early days of its development
in English law, contempt of court was viewed as a species of contempt of the
personal authority of the King to exercise absolute, divinely bestowed power
over all his subjects. Travelling royal justices who conducted assize courts
throughout the realm were the major manifestation of royal authority amongst
communities outside London, and it was not surprising that resistance to their
authority was conceptualised in this way within the law. This view of things
provided an ideological basis for them to punish contempts in a peremptory
and highly draconian fashion. An accused man in 1631, for instance, who
responded to the announcement of his conviction for murder by throwing a
portion of a brick at the judge, was rewarded for this by having his right hand
cut off then and there, in the presence of the court. He was then hanged for
the murder and the amputated hand was fixed in a prominent place near the
courthouse, as an example to others similarly minded. Nowadays, not only
are the punishments milder in tone, but also the law more explicitly speaks
of contempt of institutions, such as courts or houses of parliament, or even
(by statutory extension) of royal commissions or tribunals.
This is not to say that the vernacular meanings of contempt?focusing as
they do on states of mind?have no relevance in the law. One occasionally
encounters statutory provisions which employ contempt in its ordinary
meaning: for example, it is an offence under the Defence Act 1903 (Common
wealth), section 84, to wear any uniform of the Defence Force 'in such a manner
or under such circumstances as to be likely to bring contempt upon that
* A paper prepared for the July 1986 Conference of the Sociological Association of Australia and
New Zealand, held at the University of New England, Armidale, NSW. The views expressed are
those of the author, not of the Australian Law Reform Commission.
uniform'. (This suggests that uniformed soldiers should stay away from nuclear
disarmanent rallies.) More relevantly to the present topic, one finds that under
the present law of contempt, the vernacular notion of contempt?scorning
or despising something?may be an element in conduct amounting to
contempt, but this is not necessarily the case. The legal concept of contempt
has stretched far enough to embrace a wide range of activities which interfere
in some way or other with the administration of justice by the courts, but
are not necessarily accompanied by a contemptuous state of mind. I shall
illustrate these two propositions with reference to the impact of contempt law
upon the operation of the media.
The editor and publisher of the Argus only escaped imprisonment for contempt
by tendering a formal apology to a Bench of three judges of the Queen's Bench
Division. He was ordered to pay a fine of 100 pounds and costs. It is important
to note that the branch of contempt law under which he was convicted?it
is called 'scandalising the court?is not framed in terms of casting insults or
abuse at courts or judges, but more generally in terms of publishing statements
which 'tend to undermine public confidence in the administration of justice'.
First, I must again mention the law of scandalising. This is because, as the
law stands, it may be possible for well-founded allegations of judicial
impropriety, even when honestly believed to be true, to constitute 'scandalising'
because they have the relevant tendency to undermine public confidence in
the administration of justice. In 1981, the Builders Labourers' Federation
proceeded against Mr Malcolm Fraser for contempt for implying in a media
interview that the Federal Court of Australia would pay deference to his wishes
in determining the deregistration proceedings against the Federation. In
dismissing the claim, the judge made the following remarkable observation:
A statement made which scandalises or otherwise lowers the authority of the court
does not cease to constitute a contempt of the court if the statement is false [sic].
For this purpose, the truth or validity of the statement is immaterial.2
As things turned out, the same judge found Mr Norm Gallagher guilty of
contempt in the following year, in proceedings brought by the Commonwealth
Attorney-General, for alleging that the Federal Court deferred to the industrial
muscle of the BLF.3 I should make it clear that this view of the irrelevance
of the truth or falsity of a 'scandalising' remark is not established with complete
certainty in contempt law. But it does suggest that even a media publication
which contained worthwhile evidence of impropriety within the administration
of the system of justice (such as the 'Four Corners' program dealing with the
events which subsequently led to the conviction of the NSW Chief Stipendiary
Magistrate, Mr Farquhar) may attract contempt sanctions.
Secondly, and of day-to-day significance for the operations of news and
current affairs programs, there is the sub judice rule. This rule, like the doctrine
of 'scandalising', is expressed in broad terms. It is to the effect that a publication
will amount to contempt if, as a 'matter of practical reality', it has a 'real
and definite tendency to prejudice' a current or forthcoming trial, by virtue
of exerting influence on the deliberations of the person or persons responsible
for adjudicating the issues the stake.4 As every journalist who has worked in
the area of news or current affairs knows, this rule is of crucial importance
when one is dealing with issues or individuals involved in a criminal jury trial,
current or pending. The recent case involving Mr Derryn Hinch5 gives a good
illustration of the type of publication caught by the sub judice rule. Hinch
was convicted and sentenced to six weeks' imprisonment and a fine (subject
to appeal) for broadcasting particulars of an accused man's prior conviction
and of two prior charges, which had been laid against him, but resulted in
acquittals. These all were for sexual offences and the charges for which the
accused man was shortly to stand trial were also of a sexual nature. The element
of prejudice arose from the fact that the details of an accused person's prior
criminal record, or of criminal charges that have been laid in the past, are
in the normal course of a criminal trial withheld from the jury, on the grounds
that they are thought to be of limited probative value but are likely to
influence the jury unduly in its deliberations. This case illustrates that a major,
though not the sole, preoccupation of the sub judice rule is to act in aid of
rules of evidence and criminal procedure which have been devised in support
of the presumption of innocence. But it is an untypical case, in so far as Hinch
made the last of his three broadcasts after having been warned that contempt
proceedings might be instigated against him. The judge found that he acted
recklessly, in the sense that he knew of the risk of being found guilty of
contempt and, indeed, deliberately decided not to take legal advice on the
matter. More commonly, the sub judice rule is infringed by publications which
are neither intended to prejudice the relevant trial, nor made recklessly, but
which occur through inadvertence or inexperience on the part of those
responsible for the publication, in failing to appreciate that the trial might
be put at risk, or even that the trial existed. In this context of contempt, one
can indeed be found guilty without having the slightest realisation that one
is commiting a contempt, or any desire to evince a scornful or contemptuous
attitude of mind towards the courts.
I should add that liability under the sub judice rule is subject to two defences
of major importance. First, with a few minor exceptions, a publication will
not infringe the rule if it constitutes a fair and accurate report of legal
proceedings or of parliamentary proceedings. Secondly, there is a 'public
interest' defence which, as formulated in New South Wales, is to the effect
that prejudicial material contained in a discussion of matters of general public
interest which bears only indirectly and unintentionally upon a current or
forthcoming trial may be exonerated from liability.6
The third and final strand of contempt liability affecting media publications
is called the prejudgment principle. It is to the effect that a publication may
be held in contempt on the ground that, although it does not influence the
outcome of particular proceedings or undermine public confidence in the
administration of justice, it nonetheless prejudges issues at stake in a current
or forthcoming trial. The mere presence of a significant element of prejudgment
is enough to attract liability. This principle was firmly established by the
decision of the House of Lords in the leading case of Attorney-General v Times
Newspapers Ltd,1 arising out of the thalidomide affair. Following the marketing
of thalidomide as a tranquillising drug suitable for use by pregnant women
in relieving the effects of morning sickness (and for other purposes as well),
a number of children brought civil claims for damages in England, as in other
parts of the world, alleging that they had been born with deformities because
their mothers had taken thalidomide during pregnancy. The claims were against
Distillers Ltd, the distributor of the drug in England. While these claims were
awaiting trial, the Sunday Times prepared two major articles on the matter.
The first, calling on Distillers to pay damages to the children, was published.
The second contained evidence allegedly establishing that Distillers had been
guilty of negligence in distributing the drug without proper warnings as to
its side effects. It accordingly prejudged one of the main issues at stake in
the litigation between the children and Distillers. The House of Lords held
unanimously that an injunction, granted in the Queen's Bench Division at
the instance of the Attorney-General to restrain publication of the second
article, should be sustained. The crux of the decision is that the House of
Lords was satisfied that there was no significant risk of prejudice to the
judgments in the various civil actions, because these actions would be heard
by judges sitting alone, who would not be influenced by the article. Nevertheless,
the article constituted a contempt because it amounted to a form of 'trial by
media':
. . . 'trial by newspaper', ie, public discussion or comment on the merits of a dispute
which has been submitted to a court of law or on the alleged facts of the dispute
before they have been found by the court on the evidence adduced before it, is
calculated to prejudice the . . . requirement . . . that parties to litigation should
be able to rely on there being no usurpation by any other person of the function
of that court to decide their dispute according to law. If to have recourse to civil
litigation were to expose a litigant to the risk of public obloquy [this is a somewhat
overblown word for 'reproach' or 'disgrace'] or to public and prejudicial discussion
of the facts or merits of the case before they have been determined by the court,
potential suitors would be inhibited from availing themselves of courts of law for
the purpose for which they are established.8
This decision has been applied on occasions in Australia9 and has not been
significantly questioned, despite the breadth of the prejudgment principle. It
will be apparent again that nothing in the nature of a contemptuous state of
mind is needed to attract liability under this principle. The article by the Sunday
Times was conceded on all sides to be a thoroughly responsible product of
investigative journalism, in no way suggesting that courts were things to be
despised.
An overgrown octopus?
It can now be asked: how has it come about that the various tentacles of the
law of contempt have grown so as to extend such a long way from the original
concept of an act evincing a scornful or contemptuous state of mind towards
the courts? Furthermore, why have the tentacles sought to take such a firm
hold on the operations of the media? A major contributing factor, particularly
so far as the first question is concerned, is undoubtedly that the judiciary not
only defines what constitutes contempt (as implied in the title to this paper),
but also applies its own definition to individual cases. Ever since a judgment
which was prepared in unusual circumstances for a 'scandalising' case in 1765,
and which is strictly not authoritative because it was never actually delivered,10
it has been recognised that the normal mode of trial for contempt cases is
trial by a judge, or bench of judges, sitting without a jury. The familiar modes
of trial applicable to criminal offences?trial by jury on indictment, when the
offence is a major one: summary trial before a magistrate, in other cases?
are simply not available.11 It follows that neither the collective wisdom of juries
composed of non-lawyers, nor the wisdom (if that is the right word) of
Parliament has been brought to bear in determining what forms of publication,
if any, should be deemed to have such an intrusive effect on the workings of
the court system as to warrant legal repression through the use of criminal
sanctions.
It does not follow, however, that if juries were used to decide contempt cases,
or if the field were taken over by legislatures in Australia, there would be no
legal restrictions on publications such as I have just outlined. In European
countries, whose systems of law are not derived from English common law
public advocacy in favour of one particular side or some particular points of view
but also the courts, I think, owe it to the parties to protect them either from the
prejudices of prejudgment or from the necessity of having themselves to participate
in the flurries of pre-trial publicity. In this connection I agree with Lord Denning
MR when he said?We must not allow "trial by newspaper" or "trial by television"
or trial by any medium other than the courts of law'.16
Coupled with the references in the House of Lords decision, exemplified earlier,
to the notion of 'usurping' the role of the courts, this passage displays a judicial
fear that, while the courts will undoubtedly remain the state agencies
empowered to determine and enforce legal rights and liabilities, the media may
appear in the public mind to be the 'true' dispensers of law and justice. Such
a fear may have been inspired particularly by the special circumstances of the
thalidomide litigation. This involved numerous plaintiffs whose misfortunes
had attracted wide publicity, seeking in a semi-collective way (though by
individual claims) to obtain compensation from a single corporation whose
alleged negligence had caused widespread harm. The restraint of public
prejudgment by the media in situations such as this may appear as an essential
step in ensuring that the ultimate resolution of the issues raised by this public
disaster should remain within the context of privately litigated disputes
adjudicated by the courts and the courts alone. But as long as mass production
and marketing of potentially dangerous commodities subsist in our society,
situations in which the legal implications of a major disaster break the bounds
of private litigation will inevitably recur, and the public discussion in the media
will threaten to swamp the operations of the courts.
Chiefly because the prejudgment principle was born out of the sub judice
rule, which only applies while a trial is current or pending, the prohibition
which it imposes does not cover 'post-judgments' as well as prejudgments.
It is permissible for the media, subject only to the law of scandalising, to re
enact, criticise or adopt any stand at variance with, a judgment in a case, once
it has been delivered. Thus, although the media may seek to capture the minds
and hearts of the public in relation to the decision in a given case, they must
let the courts have the first bite at this cherry. This is something of an illogicality,
if one accepts the underlying premise of the principle that the courts are
justified in seeking to protect their image against media organisations which
purport, at some level or other, to be the true dispensers of justice in the
community.
for the fair and accurate reporting of legal proceedings. Its prohibitions fo?us
primarily on reports and comments relating to things said or done outside
the court. This argument by the media also tends to gloss over the fact that,
due to such contemporary factors as the demand for 'instant news', the tyranny
of rigid deadlines and the desire amongst most media outlets to package the
news in such a way as to attract readers and viewers away from competitors,
'fair and accurate reporting' of court proceedings is something of a myth.
Reports are often inaccurate in what they specifically say, and almost invariably
misleading through what they leave out. This is not to deny, however, that
the best investigative journalism relating to crime or the court system could
not occur if contempt law placed such a disincentive on court reporting as
to render it unprofitable for a media organisation to send its journalists to
courtrooms.
Much play is also made of the need for the media to discuss matters which
are 'of public interest'. But in tending to equate the 'public interest' with issues
which the media believe will attract readers and viewers, the media endeavour
constantly to widen the scope of defences based on 'public interest' in the
context of the sub judice rule. The predilections of dingoes, for example, can
suddenly become a matter of acute 'public interest' from the moment of the
first reporting of the death of Azaria Chamberlain. There would be no problem
with this if it did not give scope for the media to seek to justify allegations
and comments which might be prejudicial to the trial of the person concerned
in the relevant affair.
Finally, the media are loath to acknowledge the influence of their broad
depictions of 'crime waves' or 'organised crime', or of marginal groups
concerned in alleged offences (such as the Ananda Marga), let alone other
more generalised distortions of reality, which are likely, in many criminal trials,
to bear significantly on the deliberations of the jury. 'Freedom of publication'
would seem to include the freedom to half-persuade the public to think in
cetain ways about crime, which may be anything but supportive to the aim
of ensuring a fair trial in a particular criminal case.