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Noemí Pérez Vásquez, Women’s Access to Transitional Justice in Timor-Leste: The Blind Letters, Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2022
Full text linkReview of Noemí Pérez Vásquez, Women’s Access to Transitional Justice in Timor-Leste: The Blind Letters, Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2022
Social Reproduction in the Realm of the Intangible
Full text linkThe discourse of intellectual property rights demonstrates an almost total marginalisation of questions of social reproduction. This rhetorical aporia in what is already an invisible space has operated to obscure these questions in at least two significant ways. First, it has resulted in a failure to engage with the sublimation of social reproduction in the creation of a range of culturally, politically and economically distinct and significant property relations. Secondly, it operates to obscure the role of social reproduction in legal regimes governing technological innovation. By focusing on the figure of the “author” in copyright law and the “inventor” in patent law, this article aims to sketch the formation of a strategic position in the so-called “intellectual property wars” that is capable of recognising the role of social reproduction in the realm of the intangible
Introduction to the Symposium - Decarcerating Disability, Criminal Justice and Law: New Writing on Disability, Abolition and the Limits of Rights
Full text linkLiat Ben-Moshe and Linda Steele introduce a Symposium on their 2020 publications Decarcerating Disability: Deinstitutionalization and Prison Abolition (Ben-Moshe) and Disability, Criminal Justice and Law: Reconsidering Court Diversion (Steele). Ben-Moshe and Steele introduce their own books and then identify connections between the books. They situate their discussion in the anti-carceral activism that emerged during 2020 and in longer term activist and scholarly work on deinstitutionalisation, prison abolition and rights in the criminal justice system
‘Blackness’ is a key site through which surveillance is practiced, narrated and enacted. In short, as S. Browne puts it: ‘Surveillance is nothing new to black folks. It is the fact of antiblackness’.
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“We were hemmed in upon every side”.[1] This statement by Frederick Douglass, although short and concise, powerfully conveys the implications of being constantly overlooked and observed, with no ability of escaping other's gaze, a process familiar in the lives of black slaves. An absence of privacy is what one recognizes as the effect of being interminably watched from every corner, with different methods of surveillance used to strip the observed from their rights, including what Simone Browne describes as 'racializing surveillance'.[2] Racializing surveillance is defined as an exercise of social control enacted through methods of surveillance practices and techniques that allow for the “power to define what is in or out of place”.[3] This suggests an interpretation of surveillance as the act of defining what constitute social norms based on race, whilst giving the watcher the ability to control another’s social standing. Racializing surveillance involves strategies of observation and tracking used by the privileged white society during postcolonialism and the transatlantic slave trade; strategies which privilege the white man while conducting discriminatory treatment against those being racialized.[4] Although many understand surveillance as a phenomenon of contemporary technological advances, and as providing protection against criminal behaviour, what many do not understand is that its enactment can be tracked back to the emergence of slavery. One needs to consider the techniques used for controlling the lives of black societies in earlier epochs, in order to recognize the relationships and similarities between those and the surveillance methods we are familiar with, whilst also understanding their long-lasting effects of racializing surveillance.[5] This paper will argue that surveillance is not a contemporary aspect of society enacted through technological advances, but rather stems from an era of slave trade and postcolonialism that targeted black peoples, and enforced methods to control their social standing by taking away their rights. Browne’s ‘racializing surveillance’ can be explored in depth by looking at ways in which black slaves were treated as property white slaveholders were entitled to, an aspect found in the methods of tracking through runaway advertisements, biometric surveillance techniques such as branding, and the introduction of the Book of Negroes. Other surveillance methods, enacted for social control included constant observation using the elements of space and light, creating a depiction of black criminalisation partnered with suspicious behaviour, one that has since evolved into gratuitous racial profiling. In addition, this essay will explore relationships between methods used during postcolonialism and the transatlantic slave trade, and the surveillance techniques apparent today such as CCTV, passports, and fingerprint scanning.
Tracing back to black slavery, the entities of light and space, as well as their interconnection, were predominantly used in creating systematic racialized surveillance. Light and space were used in architecture to enforce the power of the sovereign by creating discipline through observation. In 1786, the Panopticon was conceived by Jeremy Bentham, transferring the idea of discipline into a tangible being; a circular prison with an observation tower standing in the centre.[6] The central concept of this architectural design was viewpoints and sight, the ‘inspector’s’ process of watching all.[7] Foucault interpreted the Panopticon as an act of disciplinary surveillance, with the focus falling upon the prisoners and their inability of knowing whether at any specific time they are being watched. Surveillance in the Panopticon can be discerned through its use of space. The prison cells placed on the circumference of the building meant that the observation tower could see all at every moment. Nothing could be done around the prison that would not be witnessed by the inspector. Cells were also built using methods which minimized communication between the prisoners. Small lamps were placed on each of the tower’s windows during night-time, so that the security apparent in the day could be extended to the night, creating an inability of knowing whether one is being watched or not at any given time, due to the blinding light. There were rules and strict timetables prisoners had to follow to avoid punishment. These factors, took away the prisoner’s rights and privacy, and allowed 'the sovereign' to force discipline and self-surveillance upon its subjects.
It is important to recognize the argument that Foucault’s interpretation of the Panopticon is not necessarily what Bentham intended. Bentham’s implications of liberalism within its design suggests this distinction from Foucault’s understanding and theory, as he aimed to free prisoners from coercion (in the form of violence) within the prison, whilst giving a certain autonomy to the prisons’ administration by disallowing superiors from commenting on a prison’s performance.[8] This provides an argument against the idea that surveillance was used throughout history to limit the power of people while handing superiority to the sovereign. Having said this, Foucault’s interpretation holds importance in conveying that this design did in fact create an all-seeing sovereign through the central observation tower, and therefore a power-relationship whereby space and light were used to strip prisoners of their rights, provide the sovereign with the power, and the prisoners with discipline and self-surveillance.
It is important to consider the parallels apparent between self-surveillance due to an all-knowing sovereign within the Panopticon, and the present widespread use of CCTV and surveillance cameras that forces discipline upon all who have knowledge of their existence.[9] Furthermore, Bentham’s Panopticon has evolved into the now panoptic society constantly watched through CCTV and via data gathered through technological tracking; examples supporting Foucault’s explanation of the observer holding disciplinary power over the one being watched.[10] Thus the surveillance people are now familiar with, stems from methods of surveillance holding connotations of power.
The use of light in enforcing discipline can also be seen in a different form of racialized surveillance, one that criminalized black people and punished them for not complying. The New York Lantern Laws were enforced in the 18th Century, carrying similar connotations to the Panopticon, where light was seemingly used to allow for the security found in the day to be carried into the night. These 1731 laws stated that unattended black, mulatto and Indian slaves of over fourteen years of age, when walking in New York after dark, were obliged to hold lit lanterns in order to be easily detected.[11] If a slave was found without one, they were sentenced to a public whipping. Such laws were passed in order to allow “the black body to be constantly illuminated”[12] from day to night, so that their location was always known and their ability of escape, diminished. These laws gave the power of an all-knowing sovereign to the observer.[13] They also marked all black people as a security risk to the rest of the community, consistently criminalised and in need of supervision both in light and darkness. This process of criminalisation is comparable to the present use of CCTV cameras.[14] Whoever enters a shop, for example, is criminalised and seen as being at risk of committing theft or other criminal actions. Such surveillance and criminalisation can be seen to have developed from laws of surveillance directed at black people. This problematic concept of racialized surveillance, and specifically of the New York Lantern Laws, can be summarized by the following quotation from Browne’s Dark Matters, which refers to a letter by an unnamed author published within the New York Journal and State Gazette, which questioned ‘a law that allowed “a white drunkard” to “disturb the street til midnight, with impunity; when a poor black girl of fifteen if a gale of wind unfortunately extinguishes the candle in the lanthorn, is hurried to gaol, and next morning ignominiously scourged in public.”’[15] This method of surveillance did not simply criminalize black people, it also categorized non-whites as less than ‘human’ based on the their being referenced as property of the slave owners, and as property that needed monitoring.[16] Thus surveillance arose in the context of ‘antiblackness’, and was practiced through ‘blackness’. Indeed, with the Lantern Laws white people were obliged to stop black people who did not have lit lanterns after dark; reflecting the contemporary act of stop-and-search policing.[17] Similarly, the policing method of Omnipresence, which is the use of strong lights to illuminate housing or people, and coupled with an abundance of policing and lights in specific areas, parallel the Lantern Laws' subjection of people to a play of light.[18]
When one becomes aware of the possibility of being consistently watched through surveillance at any given moment, a “performative sensibility”[19] arises, as Richard Iton suggests. Where there is an expectation of being watched from the observation tower In the Panopticon, for example, with the tower illuminated at night so that prisoners do not know whether they are actually being observed, a pressure to be on their best behaviour arises. The same can be said of the lanterns, with the fear of being caught and whipped governing behaviour whether or not under observation. This performative sensibility is illustrated in Frederick Douglass’s experience of the overseers during his time on a plantation, where Covey, his overseer, undertook a method of surprise.[20] He would appear at unknown times, and know of the slaves’ actions. So, this coupled with the fear of punishment allowed him to be everywhere at once.[21] Slaves, therefore 'self-surveilled' themselves in fear of being caught. The contemporary mass use of CCTV can be understood in the same way. Although this system created a form of racialized surveillance and criminalisation, there was actually great resistance in the forms of ethnic tradition and art.[22] Using Iton’s Idea of “visual surplus”, it can be seen that performing freedom during slave escapes and expressive art were paired with performative sensibility based on acting in certain ways without the knowledge of when they were being watched. These were acts of refusing to be recognized as less than human and as the white's property.[23]
Foucault’s theory of power and knowledge classifies the regulation of society, and more specifically of black populations, as a practice of disciplinary power through surveillance.[24] He argues that a new power relationship is created through surveillance, in which observation and discipline play an integral part. The finalization of torture as a public spectacle marks the beginning of this new power relationship, interlinked with racialized surveillance and rising from Foucault’s view that knowledge is power.[25] The shift from public torture to the prison system modified the exercise of power from having a hold on the body to having a hold on the soul.[26] This comes from stripping people of their rights, in forms such as obligations and prohibitions rather than physical pain, including imprisonment, deportation, strict timetables and obligatory labour. In the prison system within the Panopticon, for example, prisoners are confined in cells, are bound by rules, strict timetables that could not be avoided, and the constant overlooking through the observation tower.[27] The observers and the sovereign can constantly gather knowledge of the prisoners, with the latter self-surveilling themselves due to their inability to know if they are being watched. Achille Mbembe argued that constant watchful eyes over black people and their forceful acceptance of a strict timetable not only takes away the peoples’ rights, but also acts as a form of punishment[28] that, as Foucault argued, can go beyond the body. As Foucault analysed, the one who holds the knowledge holds the power, creating a systematic control over prisoners.[29] He also suggested that knowledge can arise from power, so that the white sovereign given the power of watching gains knowledge that can be further used to control the black population.[30] A disciplinary situation therefore arises from this relationship, by which the surveilled acknowledges their lack of power in this relationship and the sovereign’s ability to practice control.
The power relationship existing in the act of surveillance leads to what is referred to as ‘dark sousveillance’ and counter-surveillance. In slavery, dark sousveillance was used to allow one to be out of sight, allowing for a flight to freedom, while confronting the methods used on slaves.[31] The Underground Railroad was an achievement of black sousveillance that allowed slaves to escape surveillance.[32] Now, it can take the form of filming from mobile devices during encounters with the police. As Douglass stated, even if a hundred people witnessed the murder of a man, their word alone would not be acknowledged.[33] Anti-surveillance tactics, including singing to warn off observers, were used to avoid watching eyes, suggesting that the surveillance methods used for controlling slaves were not adequate in making them obliging.[34]
Technologies used for surveillance, more specifically racialized surveillance, instituted through the period of slavery to track blackness as ‘property’ were also articulated through the act and narratives of slave escapes. They are found in the reasoning behind passports and other national identification, which can be tracked back to black slavery, where the white ‘owners’ enacted methods of surveillance to track down runaways. These forms of surveillance monitor where an individual is at a specific point in time and can control one’s ability to move from one place to the next. Nowadays, this takes the forms of passports and identification requirements, as well as newfound tracking technologies on mobile phones and other devices. Historically, this tracking surveillance was enacted in the form of the Book of Negroes, formulated as a public record of black people in North America, which allowed slaveholders to track down their property that attempted to escape.[35] It was the first document of migration surveillance enacted by the government, and like passports, stated whether one had the right of travelling, whilst making one easily identifiable.[36] This record held information such as a physical description, a date of birth, as well as the name of the black slave and their claimant or master they were owned by. Due to attempted escapes during the British evacuation, Birch Certificates were given to those permitted to travel, and those granted ‘freedom’.[37] These certificates acted as de facto passports.[38] Thus was the introduction of surveillance through passports a racialized process. The relationship between passports and The Book of Negroes is easily recognised as a record for treating black slaves as property rightfully owned by a white slaveowner, as well as defining the extent of control black people had over their own bodies. Indeed, the surveillance of slaves was further epitomised through branding of slaves’ bodies to allow for easy identification.
When looking at the relationship between current surveillance methods and the surveillance of black slaves, it is important to recognise the methods used to track and control black people in earlier years, treating them as property. Objectified ways of treating black slaves included treaties that stated during British evacuation, “carrying away Negroes” or “other Property of the American inhabitants” was not permitted, and where it was found that the British did in fact do so, slaveowners were compensated for their loss of property.[39] Due to Art.7 of a provisional peace treaty, inspections were performed on ships, whereby masters could repossess their property – the slaves.[40] These examples illustrate the objectification of black people during this period. Others include the use of the census and runaway advertisements. The census was a way of categorizing populations and allowing them to be made legible and easily trackable based on race and gender.[41] Similarly, the runaway advertisements used to track down runaway slaves included stereotypical racial profiling, physical description and unique features, and descriptions of the slaves’ suspicious behaviour.[42]
Obtaining social control through the practice of biometric surveillance has remained abundantly familiar to people involved in the present time of immigration. During black slavery, the biometric surveillance slaves were exposed to, created a prototypical basis for the biometric surveillance people experience in the contemporary world.[43] During the transatlantic slave trade, slaves were marked and scarred in particular ways that could either confirm their status as a slaveholder’s property and part of a plantation, or aid in tracking them in case they tried to escape.[44] Whipping was a method abundantly used as a form of punishment, which surveilled slaves and instilled fear within the plantation to keep them from disobeying their owners or trying to run away.[45] Furthermore, some were marked with a branding iron so that they were easily locatable in case of escape.[46] Another method of aimed at preventing slaves from running away from their plantations was the impregnation of female slaves, which physically and emotionally tied the women slaves to their plantation, more so when in 1662 it was codified into law that children born of women slaves were the property of the mother’s slaveholder.[47] One can find also see a connection between the biometric surveillance of branding, and the contemporary use of fingerprint scanning,[48] both policing methods the latter now exercised through mobile devices.
Fanon defined epidermalization as the process of assigning certain meanings to specific races or bodies.[49] The Western population used this as a disassociation between the black race and the rest of the world, conveying the black body as a black object capable of being defined by them[50], creating a hierarchy of knowledge obtained by the two.[51] The black body was then able to be treated in specific ways based on colour and characteristics, comparable to the different treatment given to white people, something established during the transatlantic slave trade.[52] A connection can be formed between epidermalization and contemporary forms of biometric surveillance, such as e-passport verifications, that digitally produce the ‘truth’ of one’s body.
There is an evident relationship between biometric surveillance used during black slavery and in the contemporary era of immigration, both consistent with the mapping of the colonized body by the colonizer, and the branding of the black slave body.[53] States have responded to the issue of dispossession and foreign arrivals by using surveillance methods to practice control over these people, and either imprison them or try to prevent them from entering the country. For example, those entering European countries from Afghanistan are faced with the rejection of their asylum claims and given contradictory reasoning for this.[54] So, when an individual is above the age of eighteen, they are no longer an unaccompanied adult, and the state does not have an obligation to provide asylum. In an article based on Danish response to immigrants, it is argued that when doctors conduct examinations on the immigrants to establish their age, most cases are found to be over the age of eighteen, even though the individuals are aware of their age and claim to be younger than that.[55] An example of approach is the case of twin boys who were deemed to have different ages.[56] Through tests, several physical aspects are noted down, suggesting that these ‘special characteristics’ found can be used for biometric surveillance, similarly to the methods used on black slaves.[57] Again, it is important to understand the similarity of the colonisers or slaveholders mapping the bodies of the colonized or slaves, with the data collection apparent in these examinations made on people seeking asylum. During one interview conducted on an individual seeking asylum, it was mentioned that their experience with the doctors included scarce conversation, with a translator instructing them on what to do being the only thing said.[58] This can be linked with the briefness of doctor-patient relationships in colonial contexts, where doctors did not indulge in questioning the patient but rather conducted examinations they could use to control the subject, as well as mapping the colonized bodies[59] in order to gain knowledge that could give them power over them.[60] In finding further links between the enactment of surveillance in controlling people of a certain race, and the use of surveillance now, Francis Galton expresses that fingerprints need to be considered.[61] Fingerprints have been used widely in categorizing populations of certain races, and the increase of fingerprint use in the contemporary reenforces the closeness of surveillance methods that were introduced for issues of controlling race.
Racial profiling is an issue talked about copiously in the present day, creating issues of stereotypical racism. Although voiced as a contemporary issue, racial profiling occurred throughout history. 'Prototypical whiteness' is a phrase that encompasses the
The Crisis in Metaphors: Climate Vocabularies in Adivasi Literatures
Full text linkThis paper attempts to recover some elisions of Indigenous thought in contemporary literary readings of the non-human, especially those from the Global South. I will focus on Indigenous conceptions of what I term ‘climate vocabularies’ in order to re-read Indigenous articulations of the non-human that have signalled climate as a ‘common organising concept’ (Todd 8) and provided early concerns on anthropogenic impact that has resulted in the current form of the climate emergency. This paper will trace an abridged climate history of eastern India by examining protest songs on mineral extraction, particularly focusing on the recent movements in Kashipur and Niyamgiri. I frame the call for jal, jangal, jameen (water, forests, land) as climate vocabulary because increased human exploitation of the past few centuries on these elements have heavily altered micro-climates of east-Indian geographies. Given Adivasi (Indian Indigenous) communities have been residents of these regions, the call for protection and ownership of jal, jangal, jameen in its many local articulations and transmutations has acquired essential presence across Adivasi movements in South Asia. Here, the materiality of the elements of water, land and forests in its literal sense is paramount. This paper will discuss the poetry of Kondh leader from Kashipur Bhagban Majhi, and Dongria Kondh poet Dambu Praska, to examine the ways in which they present changes in local ecologies brought about by mining as evidentiaries to communicate climate breakdown
International medical schools have insufficient training addressing LGBTQ+ health needs.: International Summer Conference: Inequalities in Medicine, In2MedSchool (I2MS), 2nd July 2022.
Full text linkBackground: The LGBTQ+ community constitutes a significant proportion of society with unique health needs. However, healthcare services and doctors often inadequately address their needs, with insufficient training proposed as a major contributory factor. This international observational study aimed to investigate the level of training in LGBTQ+ medicine during medical school.Method: Following validation with LGBTQ+ organisations, a survey was created to assess medical students’ knowledge, sources of understanding, and areas for improvement for LGBTQ+ health issues in the curricula. The survey consisted of multiple-choice and Likertscale questions. Following a pilot, the online survey was disseminated at two medical schools in London and Singapore. Findings: 330 respondents completed the survey, with comparable absolute numbers from both universities. At least one-third of respondents were unclear on terminologies such as ‘out-of-the-closet’ and ‘men who have sex with men’. Additionally, respondents lacked knowledge of clinical topics such as conversion therapy. 84.2% of respondents expressed inadequacy in learning about LGBTQ+ medicine at university, with only 27.9% of respondents indicating they learnt general LGBTQ+ issues from medical curricula. Sexual health (90.9%) was well-learnt at medical schools, whilst many other topics such as genderaffirming care were not learnt (56.7%). Conclusions: This study highlights the lack of training surrounding LGBTQ+ medicine that medical schools provide for students, with much information gathered from outside sources. Medical school curricula should be reviewed to better incorporate important issues surrounding LGBTQ+ medicine. This would better equip the next generation of doctors to address the LGBTQ+ community’s health needs
Managing a Professional Identity as Abortion Care Providers in a Time of Uncertainty
Full text linkNo abstrac
Interview with Lord Reed: KLR Editorial Board interviews
No full textLord Reed Interview Transcript
Jireh: Firstly, thank you for sitting down with us. How are you enjoying your time here at Kent Law School so far?
Lord Reed: It’s a great pleasure to be here. I’ve been made very welcome by the staff and the students I’ve met, and I’ve met some very impressive young people doing lots of good work!
Jireh: You have held various roles and different positions in your career, now leading to the Presidency of the Supreme Court; congratulations on that. How have you found the role so far, especially given the start of the pandemic soon after you were appointed, did it change anything for the role?
Lord Reed: It’s always a challenge to lead an institution; especially one that’s as important and prominent as the Supreme Court. It would be a challenge at the best of times; the pandemic brought a whole set of challenges that I hadn’t anticipated.
We had to adapt to working online, just like the University. We had the same sorts of problems of people not being able to come together and having to work from their homes; often without a quiet place to work, or with children still at home. Or people who live alone finding it depressing to be unable to go into work.
We had a number of new judges join the court during the lockdown, some of whom had never met the other members of the court.
The format of working online made hearings more constrained and formal than they would normally be.
At the same time, the lockdown also prompted the introduction of changes, which I had in mind, faster than they would have otherwise happened. For example, instead of having enormous bundles of papers, having electronic files, with the documents for the cases being filed electronically. And having an electronic library, rather than using books.
The court was able to cope with the pandemic very well, all things considered, but we are very pleased to be back in the building, having live hearings; as I’m sure you’re all happy to be back at university having live classes.
Apart from the pandemic, it has been an interesting time for a number of reasons. One is that the government has had a variety of ideas for changes which could affect the courts. So we’ve had consultation papers to respond to, and discussions with government.
Following the prorogation case, in particular, I was keen to try to build a stronger relationship with Parliament and ensure that our role was better understood than it may have been. And so I’ve been able to plan how best to go about that with the Speaker of the House of Commons, and the Speaker of the House of Lords. Although constraints on social gatherings have delayed going into that as fully as I’d have liked to. The opportunity will arise, probably next year.
In the meantime we’ve taken steps to address a number of issues where I’ve felt the court could be doing more, for example, in relation to diversity and inclusion, and in relation to our international relationships with other courts around the world.
Amber: In the past you’ve been the President of the EU Forum of Judges for the Environment; with COP26 having just ended, what is your view on agreements reached, and do you think we are doing enough to reach the goal of cutting emissions by 45% by 2030?
Lord Reed: My impression is that we are probably not doing enough. I don’t mean we, personally, in the UK; my impression is that the UK is one of the countries doing more than the average. But I don’t think we are doing enough.
The difficulty is that there are obviously all sorts of reasons why different countries are reluctant to do as much as they could, and we’ve no means of compelling them.
I’m worried about the consequences in the long run. It really has to be a matter of diplomacy to persuade other people to do more than they seem currently willing to do. One can only hope that by the time they become prepared to do more, it isn’t too late for serious consequences to be averted.
Amber: Do you think that there is a legal route that we might be able to take, to help the cause [climate crisis] along, so to speak?
Lord Reed: Well, courts can help by enforcing environmental laws, obviously. Our Court, for example, has repeatedly made rulings requiring air pollution to be addressed, particularly in London, and that helps. But at the end of the day, in a democracy, courts apply the laws which the legislature approves, and the problem is more one to do with the state of public opinion.
People watch a David Attenborough documentary, and they’re anxious about the fate of polar bears, but when it comes to the daily reality of their central heating, their cars, and all the other things which contribute to global warming, people are reluctant to make real changes unless they are compelled to do so.
Jireh: Being an ad hoc judge on the European Court of Human Rights, do you feel that Brexit has affected your role in any way, and the connection between the British and the European Union judicial systems?
Lord Reed: Well, our leaving the EU is obviously a profoundly important step, which will affect the law in many ways. One thing it won’t affect is the European Court of Human Rights, because that’s quite separate from the EU; I can continue to sit, if I am invited to, on the Strasbourg court.
Also, it’s not affecting the relationship between judges in Britain and judges on the Continent. For example, I remain a associate member of the EU network of Presidents of Supreme Courts, by invitation; so I have regular meetings with the presidents of the 27 remaining member states’ Supreme Courts; we have a meeting with the French judiciary coming up at the end of this month [November], and we will be meeting the Irish and German judiciaries next year [2022].
The consequences for the law, of leaving he EU, haven’t yet really hit the courts. We haven’t yet had a case where we’ve had to consider EU retained law; so the consequences still lie ahead of us.
Jireh: With the European Union relationship changing, do you feel like there will still be connections with the British judicial system, but just not as deep as before?
Lord Reed: I think that’s probably true. It depends a lot on what the government’s strategy is going forward. They may want us to continue following a path which is aligned to that of the EU in some areas, I don’t know, but it is possible, for example, in the field of data protection. But there may well be areas of the law where they want to follow a quite different approach in the future, and the courts will go where domestic legislation leads them.
Amber: It is evident that you’ve an interest in human rights and justice. The University of Kent, in partnership with the City of Canterbury, actually recently hosted a chapter of the Walk with Amal, to raise awareness for refugees. With your international legal experience, and understanding of human rights and justice, what is your view on the current refugee crisis, and how refugees are treated by human rights and by the legal systems?
Lord Reed: I see the refugee crisis as something which is likely to be exacerbated by climate change, and I think it’s one of the most troubling aspects of modern life, which is likely to get much worse as life goes forward, as parts of the world which are currently inhabitable, become uninhabitable.
The decent treatment of refugees is something which I regard as a moral imperative. I think we can be proud of how this country welcomed Jewish refugees in the Second World War and welcomed refugees from Uganda in the 1970s. Indeed we have a long history of welcoming refugees going back, for example, to the Huguenots who came over from France in the 17th century to escape religious persecution.
Human Rights Law has an important part to play in the decent treatment of refugees, and it’s built into the legislation which governs asylum claims and immigration in the UK, and it’s the responsibility of the Courts to see that it’s properly applied.
Amber: I’m actually in the Law, Literature and Film seminar group that I believe you’re going to be seeing later on.
Lord Reed: Oh good! I enjoy films…and literature!
Amber: We’ve just studied the Beekeeper of Aleppo, and there’s a process which all refugees go through where they’re not subject to any one legal system. Do you think there’s more that can be done, in terms of co-operation, between countries, in order to help with the refugee crisis?
Lord Reed: I’m sure there is. It’s one of the unfortunate consequences of Brexit, that we lost the benefit of the Dublin convention. One sees at the moment on the Polish borders what can happen in the absence of international co-operation.
I think the scale of the problem is such that you can’t reasonably expect countries to bear a disproportionate share of the burden, looking after those in need, because we’re talking about millions of people. It’s important that nations be prepared to share the burden, in order to ensure that there is a humanitarian response, rather than a tendency of each country to try to pass the problem onto its neighbour.
Jireh: Do you think this is more the responsibility of the humanitarian organisations, given the issue’s global nature?
Lord Reed: Humanitarian organisations have a very important role to play, but ultimately, the critical decisions are going to be made by national governments.
It’s rather like climate change, that finding a solution at the level of an individual government is really not possible; so international co-operation between governments is the best way forward. But I say that as a member of the public, that’s nothing to do with my role as a judge.
Amber: Finally, we wanted to thank you again for taking the time to sit down with us, we know you’re very, very busy. We would like to ask you: what parting words would you like to leave with the students of Kent Law School?
Lord Reed: I think the most important thing, possibly, for any law student to understand is that, the law is not a series of incontestable propositions.
Even if you open a text book, and you find a proposition supported by 10 authorities in the footnotes, you’re never going to be a successful lawyer and I think will have rather missed the point of studying law, if you would take that as a definitive answer.
The law is very often contestable. When you read cases, and it’s important that you do read cases, you’ll often find that they either don’t support the proposition for which they’re cited, or it’s debateable that they do, or even if it’s clear that they do, they may have been decided at some time in the past when social life, and attitudes, were different from what they are now; there may be room for argument as to whether the same approach should still be followed, without modification, at the present time.
This university is famous for an approach to the law which sets it in the context of society. Learning that lesson, you should always be aware that people create the law for their own time, and that precedents are there to be studied but, sometimes, departed from.
Amber: What’s your highlight of your career where you felt you achieved that [departing from a precedent that needed to be departed from], either when you were a lawyer or when you were a judge, what’s your proudest moment?
Lord Reed: One of the cases I heard when I was sitting on the European Court of Human Rights, was the case of Thompson and Venables, which was the case of the two boys convicted of killing James Bulger. It was obviously an appalling case, but the decision of the European Court established some important principles which had some profound consequences, not only for English law but for many legal systems.
One of the most important of those was that there should be child appropriate ways of dealing with children in the justice system. So children of their age would nowadays be dealt with in a youth court rather than, as they were, in an ordinary adult crown court. There is also greater protection for children nowadays than there was at that time, such as from the psychological consequences that could follow from the treatment that they received.
The other major change that the case brought about, was the ending of the role of politicians in criminal sentencing. At that time, the period to be served, by the boys, in custody, was fixed by the Home Secretary. As a result of the decision, it would now be fixed by the courts.
That would now be taken for granted. It seems extraordinary now that a politician was deciding a criminal sentence. But that just shows how far we’ve come as a consequence of that judgment.
Amber: Thank you so much Judge. Truly, thank you for your time
Equality: an evaluation of the experience of LGBTQ+ healthcare students at university. : International Summer Conference: Inequalities in Medicine, In2MedSchool (I2MS), 2nd July 2022.
Full text linkBackground:Evaluate lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, non-heterosexual, non-cisgender (LGBTQ+) and cisgender/heterosexual (CisHet) healthcare students’ experiences of social inclusion, mental health and wellbeing, staff support, discrimination, and diversity at university between 2018 and 2021. Method:Statistical analysis using non-parametric (Mann-Whitney, Kruskal-Wallis, Dunn’s multiple comparison test) and parametric (unpaired t-test) analyses on LGBTQ+ and CisHet students’ responses to two questionnaires; Questionnaire A to students in the faculty of medicine and healthcare science in 2018, and Questionnaire B to medical students in 2021. Findings:LGBTQ+ and CisHet students similarly felt welcome, however, LGBTQ+ students agreed significantly more than CisHet students that their sexual orientation influenced their sense of belonging, and they experienced or witnessed significantly more discrimination than CisHet students. In 2021, both groups felt less supported by their tutors, with LGBTQ+ students feeling more supported by their friends. LGBTQ+ students disagreed significantly more than CisHet students that there was sufficient LGBTQ+-diversity amongst staff and students and agreed less that the university encouraged LGBTQ+ diversity in staff. From 2018 to 2021, both groups’ awareness of equality, diversity and inclusion policies increased, they found maintaining their wellbeing more difficult, and they felt similarly neutral regarding the diversity of resources. Conclusions:While both groups’ experiences were similar in many aspects, LGBTQ+ healthcare students had different experiences of inclusion, representation and discrimination than CisHet students. Recommendations included improving LGBTQ+ representation amongst staff and in the curriculum, increase signposting for wellbeing services, and make reporting of discrimination and harassment easier
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