EXTRADITION TO THE U.S.
It is not only in the U.K. that there are problems with extradition arrangements to the U.S. Last September the Danish authorities agreed for the first time to extradite one of its citizens to a country outside the EU. Camilla Broe, a 43-year old single mother, was wanted by the Americans for alleged drug smuggling.
Yesterday, after spending 6 months in a U.S. jail, Ms. Broe was released, and she will fly back to Denmark tonight. When she eventually came before a judge, it was held that the case should be dropped, since it was out of time (the charges relate to events that happened back in the 1990's). This decision says nothing about Ms. Broe's innocence or guilt in relation to those events.
Since the case failed on procedural grounds, it is worrying that it was allowed to proceed for so long, and on two continents. Surely somebody, somewhere, in either the U.S. or Danish Ministries of Justice, must have known that this would happen? The suspicion lingers that Denmark, a staunch supporter of the Bush administration in its foreign adventures in Iraq and Afghanistan, didn't dig deep enough and ask the right sort of question before making its decision to extradite.
Cooperation between countries in criminal matters is vital, given the internationalisation of many illegal activities. However, there must be corresponding safeguards for individuals, particularly since there is no real world court to appeal to, if things go wrong. The history of Ms. Broe's case, like that of Binyam Mohamed, makes for uncomfortable reading.
Walter Blotscher
Sunday 28 February 2010
Saturday 27 February 2010
BINYAM MOHAMED (2)
There was an interesting coda to the U.K. Court of Appeal's decision in the Binyam Mohamed case (see my blog of 15/2/10). The Court's three senior judges had unanimously ruled that seven paragraphs detailing Mr Mohamed's ill-treatment/torture should indeed be published as part of the Divisional Court's original judgment in the same case, despite the Foreign Secretary's claim that they represented intelligence material supplied by the U.S. that should be kept secret.
The twist in the case concerned one paragraph of the judgment by Lord Neuberger, the Master of the Rolls. In going through the pros and cons of the Foreign Secretary's arguments, he highlighted as a con the fact that the Foreign Secretary's claim of public interest immunity (i.e. secrecy) in respect of the seven paragraphs had come about following advice from the secret services. Although there was no doubt about the Foreign Secretary's own good faith, that advice could well be seen to be tainted, given the fact that one member of the secret services, Witness B, was under police investigation for a possible breach of the law in helping Mr. Mohamed's torturers. Other members of the secret services might also have known about Witness B's actions.
As is customary, the draft judgment was sent out to both parties' counsel, asking for comments prior to formal publication. The Foreign Secretary's counsel thought that the wording of the relevant paragraph was too sweeping in its conclusions about the intelligence community in general, conclusions that were not justified by the evidence of the particular case. Lord Neuberger accordingly redrafted the paragraph, though when the judgment was published (under time pressure, the case being of major public interest), he made it clear that the paragraph was still in draft form. Mr. Mohamed's counsel then objected to the second draft, pointing out that the original Divisional Court judgment had in fact established quite definite conclusions about the intelligence community, based on the evidence. Lord Neuberger then redrafted the relevant paragraph for a third time.
Unfortunately, in the media frenzy accompanying the Court of Appeal's decision, the Foreign Secretary's counsel's letter of objection to the court was leaked, and Lord Neuberger's comment that the relevant paragraph was still in draft was lost in the rush. The impression was thus given that the Court of Appeal had been leaned on to change its view.
That impression was one, which the learned judges were - understandably - very, very keen to dispel, taking 9 pages in their subsequent judgment to set out in precise detail what had happened, why, and when. They also gave a general warning against anyone tempted to leak counsel's letters to the court in future; as they put it:
"The circumstances here are, we believe, unique. They will not be repeated."
All eyes now move to the outcome of the police investigation into Witness B. Expect that to cause ripples, whatever the outcome.
Walter Blotscher
There was an interesting coda to the U.K. Court of Appeal's decision in the Binyam Mohamed case (see my blog of 15/2/10). The Court's three senior judges had unanimously ruled that seven paragraphs detailing Mr Mohamed's ill-treatment/torture should indeed be published as part of the Divisional Court's original judgment in the same case, despite the Foreign Secretary's claim that they represented intelligence material supplied by the U.S. that should be kept secret.
The twist in the case concerned one paragraph of the judgment by Lord Neuberger, the Master of the Rolls. In going through the pros and cons of the Foreign Secretary's arguments, he highlighted as a con the fact that the Foreign Secretary's claim of public interest immunity (i.e. secrecy) in respect of the seven paragraphs had come about following advice from the secret services. Although there was no doubt about the Foreign Secretary's own good faith, that advice could well be seen to be tainted, given the fact that one member of the secret services, Witness B, was under police investigation for a possible breach of the law in helping Mr. Mohamed's torturers. Other members of the secret services might also have known about Witness B's actions.
As is customary, the draft judgment was sent out to both parties' counsel, asking for comments prior to formal publication. The Foreign Secretary's counsel thought that the wording of the relevant paragraph was too sweeping in its conclusions about the intelligence community in general, conclusions that were not justified by the evidence of the particular case. Lord Neuberger accordingly redrafted the paragraph, though when the judgment was published (under time pressure, the case being of major public interest), he made it clear that the paragraph was still in draft form. Mr. Mohamed's counsel then objected to the second draft, pointing out that the original Divisional Court judgment had in fact established quite definite conclusions about the intelligence community, based on the evidence. Lord Neuberger then redrafted the relevant paragraph for a third time.
Unfortunately, in the media frenzy accompanying the Court of Appeal's decision, the Foreign Secretary's counsel's letter of objection to the court was leaked, and Lord Neuberger's comment that the relevant paragraph was still in draft was lost in the rush. The impression was thus given that the Court of Appeal had been leaned on to change its view.
That impression was one, which the learned judges were - understandably - very, very keen to dispel, taking 9 pages in their subsequent judgment to set out in precise detail what had happened, why, and when. They also gave a general warning against anyone tempted to leak counsel's letters to the court in future; as they put it:
"The circumstances here are, we believe, unique. They will not be repeated."
All eyes now move to the outcome of the police investigation into Witness B. Expect that to cause ripples, whatever the outcome.
Walter Blotscher
Thursday 25 February 2010
BANK BONUSSES
I am having problems with the idea of bonusses. I am having a particular problem with the Royal Bank of Scotland, now 84% owned by the U.K. Government (i.e. the taxpayer), paying out £1,3 billion in bonusses to its staff, despite the fact that it lost £3,6 billion in 2009.
The word "bonus" has connotations - to me, at least - of something extra and special. An extra payment for a special effort. I can't see how a company that makes losses can justify any bonus. The fact of the matter is that any bonus paid merely increases the loss made.
If we were in any other industry except finance, then this would be self-evident. However, things work differently in the City. As RBS' chief explains it, you have to pay bonusses in order to retain productive staff. Even when the company makes a loss, and is state-owned.
I think that this is self-serving tosh. It is time for banks' Boards and senior management to remember that they ultimately work for shareholders, not employees. Employees should be well remunerated, if the company can afford it; and there is nothing wrong (indeed, quite the opposite) with giving employees more when the company has more. However, employees should not be entitled to bonusses when the company patently cannot afford them. The concept of "guaranteed bonusses" is an oxymoron, that should be ditched. And if employees say that they will walk unless they get them, then that bluff should be called; let them walk.
More on this later ...
Walter Blotscher
I am having problems with the idea of bonusses. I am having a particular problem with the Royal Bank of Scotland, now 84% owned by the U.K. Government (i.e. the taxpayer), paying out £1,3 billion in bonusses to its staff, despite the fact that it lost £3,6 billion in 2009.
The word "bonus" has connotations - to me, at least - of something extra and special. An extra payment for a special effort. I can't see how a company that makes losses can justify any bonus. The fact of the matter is that any bonus paid merely increases the loss made.
If we were in any other industry except finance, then this would be self-evident. However, things work differently in the City. As RBS' chief explains it, you have to pay bonusses in order to retain productive staff. Even when the company makes a loss, and is state-owned.
I think that this is self-serving tosh. It is time for banks' Boards and senior management to remember that they ultimately work for shareholders, not employees. Employees should be well remunerated, if the company can afford it; and there is nothing wrong (indeed, quite the opposite) with giving employees more when the company has more. However, employees should not be entitled to bonusses when the company patently cannot afford them. The concept of "guaranteed bonusses" is an oxymoron, that should be ditched. And if employees say that they will walk unless they get them, then that bluff should be called; let them walk.
More on this later ...
Walter Blotscher
Wednesday 24 February 2010
THE FALKLAND ISLANDS
After 28 years of relative quiet the Falkland Islands (otherwise known to Latin America as Las Malvinas) are back in the news. The islands, located in the South Atlantic Ocean off the coast of South America, were taken over by the British in 1833, when largely uninhabited, and are now home to 2500 people, nearly all British citizens. Argentina, which has a long-standing claim to the islands, was in the process of negotiating some form of sovereignty transfer, when in April 1982 its military junta lost patience and invaded. The British responded by sending an amphibious task force. After a landing and a series of short, fierce battles, the Argentines surrendered. 258 British and 649 Argentines lost their lives in the conflict.
The war did not resolve the various territorial claims, but led to an uneasy peace. Britain poured money into developing the islands, with the result that the standard of living there is higher than in Argentina. Now, however, a potential flashpoint has arisen; oil. The waters around the islands are thought to contain substantial oil reserves; and the arrival this week of the first exploration drilling rig has caused Argentine pulses to quicken.
In the modern world, should the U.K. continue to exercise sovereignty over relatively small bits of territory on the other side of the globe? No, in my view. Back in 1982 I must admit to feeling a twinge of pride that Britain could still cut it militarily (though it was, by all accounts, a very close-run affair). But successive wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have rather taken the shine off military action in general. Nor is there any great issue of principle such as protecting citizens. Hong Kong was the case for principle, and the U.K. could not uphold it. Besides, the Government was already trying to get rid of the islands when the war broke out. It was only afterwards that British sovereignty became non-negotiable.
It is easy to see a potential formula whereby Argentina obtained sovereignty, but the existing islanders (plus any children born during the next - say- 20 years) retained British citizenship. But such a solution requires a bit more statesmanship from the British Government than they have shown for the past 20 years.
Walter Blotscher
After 28 years of relative quiet the Falkland Islands (otherwise known to Latin America as Las Malvinas) are back in the news. The islands, located in the South Atlantic Ocean off the coast of South America, were taken over by the British in 1833, when largely uninhabited, and are now home to 2500 people, nearly all British citizens. Argentina, which has a long-standing claim to the islands, was in the process of negotiating some form of sovereignty transfer, when in April 1982 its military junta lost patience and invaded. The British responded by sending an amphibious task force. After a landing and a series of short, fierce battles, the Argentines surrendered. 258 British and 649 Argentines lost their lives in the conflict.
The war did not resolve the various territorial claims, but led to an uneasy peace. Britain poured money into developing the islands, with the result that the standard of living there is higher than in Argentina. Now, however, a potential flashpoint has arisen; oil. The waters around the islands are thought to contain substantial oil reserves; and the arrival this week of the first exploration drilling rig has caused Argentine pulses to quicken.
In the modern world, should the U.K. continue to exercise sovereignty over relatively small bits of territory on the other side of the globe? No, in my view. Back in 1982 I must admit to feeling a twinge of pride that Britain could still cut it militarily (though it was, by all accounts, a very close-run affair). But successive wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have rather taken the shine off military action in general. Nor is there any great issue of principle such as protecting citizens. Hong Kong was the case for principle, and the U.K. could not uphold it. Besides, the Government was already trying to get rid of the islands when the war broke out. It was only afterwards that British sovereignty became non-negotiable.
It is easy to see a potential formula whereby Argentina obtained sovereignty, but the existing islanders (plus any children born during the next - say- 20 years) retained British citizenship. But such a solution requires a bit more statesmanship from the British Government than they have shown for the past 20 years.
Walter Blotscher
Monday 22 February 2010
OLYMPIC ICE HOCKEY
I got up at 5.00am this morning to watch the Canada-U.S.A. round-robin tie. Big brother versus little brother in one of the few settings in which Canada is big brother. 18,000 Canadians roaring the home side on. Some of the world's best players in action.
What a match! The game was played at 100mph, with some brutal, albeit fair, checking. And the underdog Americans won 5-3, deservedly in my view. It helps if you score after only 41 seconds. But although the Canadians had the more shots, they didn't hustle quite as much, and their big guns didn't seem to work together as well. Canada's superstar Sid "the Kid" Crosby had a quiet game, despite scoring a goal.
In the end, the main difference was between the goaltenders. Canada's 37-year old Martin Brodeur, gold-medal winner in Salt Lake City and also the goalie in Torino, had an off night by his normal standards. The U.S.A.'s Ryan Miller, on the other hand, played out of his skin.
With Russia and unfancied defending champions Sweden also automatically through to the quarter finals, the tournament is beginning to hot up. Any one of five or six teams could win it.
Walter Blotscher
I got up at 5.00am this morning to watch the Canada-U.S.A. round-robin tie. Big brother versus little brother in one of the few settings in which Canada is big brother. 18,000 Canadians roaring the home side on. Some of the world's best players in action.
What a match! The game was played at 100mph, with some brutal, albeit fair, checking. And the underdog Americans won 5-3, deservedly in my view. It helps if you score after only 41 seconds. But although the Canadians had the more shots, they didn't hustle quite as much, and their big guns didn't seem to work together as well. Canada's superstar Sid "the Kid" Crosby had a quiet game, despite scoring a goal.
In the end, the main difference was between the goaltenders. Canada's 37-year old Martin Brodeur, gold-medal winner in Salt Lake City and also the goalie in Torino, had an off night by his normal standards. The U.S.A.'s Ryan Miller, on the other hand, played out of his skin.
With Russia and unfancied defending champions Sweden also automatically through to the quarter finals, the tournament is beginning to hot up. Any one of five or six teams could win it.
Walter Blotscher
Sunday 21 February 2010
CABINET GOVERNMENT
The most surprising aspect of the recent fall of the Dutch Government was not that it fell (the Government was a left-right coalition and such combinations are often unstable), nor that it fell because of disagreement over extending the Dutch military mission to Afghanistan (wars are likely to give rise to differing views), but that it took place after an inconclusive Cabinet meeting that lasted for 16 hours! That is in sharp contrast to the evidence emerging from the U.K. inquiry to the Iraq War, where the Cabinet decision to invade seems to have been taken almost on the nod. The Attorney General was present in order to answer questions about his advice that the invasion was legal; but nobody asked him any.
Cabinet Government has been around since the 18th century. The idea is that decisions are taken and defended collectively by all Government Ministers, the Prime Minister being merely "primus inter pares"; he/she has the same single vote as all of the others. The reality is somewhat different. All Ministers rely to a greater or lesser extent on the Prime Minister's patronage, first to obtain the job and then to keep it. A Minister who continually disagreed with their Prime Minister would find it hard to remain in Cabinet.
The exception is in a coalition, where the dissent can come from one of the parties, as in the Dutch case, rather than from an individual. The stakes are higher, since the end of the coalition may well spell the end of the Government. But the standard of Cabinet debate is probably rather better.
Commentators are often lamenting the decline of Cabinet Government and the concomitant rise of Presidential Prime Ministers. That is likely to be most pronounced in countries such as the U.K. and U.S.A., where coalitions are rare.
Walter Blotscher
The most surprising aspect of the recent fall of the Dutch Government was not that it fell (the Government was a left-right coalition and such combinations are often unstable), nor that it fell because of disagreement over extending the Dutch military mission to Afghanistan (wars are likely to give rise to differing views), but that it took place after an inconclusive Cabinet meeting that lasted for 16 hours! That is in sharp contrast to the evidence emerging from the U.K. inquiry to the Iraq War, where the Cabinet decision to invade seems to have been taken almost on the nod. The Attorney General was present in order to answer questions about his advice that the invasion was legal; but nobody asked him any.
Cabinet Government has been around since the 18th century. The idea is that decisions are taken and defended collectively by all Government Ministers, the Prime Minister being merely "primus inter pares"; he/she has the same single vote as all of the others. The reality is somewhat different. All Ministers rely to a greater or lesser extent on the Prime Minister's patronage, first to obtain the job and then to keep it. A Minister who continually disagreed with their Prime Minister would find it hard to remain in Cabinet.
The exception is in a coalition, where the dissent can come from one of the parties, as in the Dutch case, rather than from an individual. The stakes are higher, since the end of the coalition may well spell the end of the Government. But the standard of Cabinet debate is probably rather better.
Commentators are often lamenting the decline of Cabinet Government and the concomitant rise of Presidential Prime Ministers. That is likely to be most pronounced in countries such as the U.K. and U.S.A., where coalitions are rare.
Walter Blotscher
Friday 19 February 2010
THE WONDER OF MATHEMATICS
At various times in my life I have been a mathematics teacher. Ad hoc surveys of my pupils have shown that most children believe that mathematics is "important". But other adjectives - surprising, relevant, beautiful - get a decided thumbs-down.
That is a pity, since there is much in the subject that is both surprising and relevant. Take the humble right-angled triangle, for instance. It has been known since the time of the Ancient Greeks that the sum of the squares of the two smaller sides equals the square of the hypotenuse (Pythagoras' Theorem). Many people also know the easy solution (3,4,5) and the less-easy one (5,12,13). What is surprising about Pythagoras is that, of all the zillions of possible right-angled triangles, there is both a solution with whole numbers and that solution involves SMALL numbers.
The latter fact is very relevant. We know that the square-based Pyramids are extremely precise, and that their right-angles are almost exactly 90 degrees. How would an Egyptian overseer be able to build such a structure, even if he knew his Pythagoras? Plastic set-squares didn't exist in the time of Ramases II. But the overseer could make a rope out of papyrus, with knots at each end and 11 knots in the middle, each knot the same distance from its neighbours. Then he would put a stick in the middle of the fifth knot, one in the middle of the eighth knot and one in the middle of the first and thirteenth knots together. Hey presto, he now has a right-angled triangle and can start building a stone building that doesn't fall down. If there were no whole number solution to Pythagoras, or if there were one and the numbers were large (and why shouldn't they be large?), then the whole history of architecture would have been very different. Humans would probably have gotten there in the end, but it would have taken a much longer time.
Another surprising feature of mathematics is the large number of equations that are linear. By linear, I mean one in the form y = ax; double x and you double y. Linear equations are the simplest of all, easy to work with. You don't need a computer to find a solution.
Two of the most important equations for the whole development of science are linear. One of Newton's laws of motion is F = ma; force equals mass times acceleration. The other is Ohm's law V = IR, voltage equals current times resistance. A priori there is no reason why either of these equations should be linear; and if we looked at them in terms of probability, then the chances would be that they were not. Yet the world would probably have turned out very differently if Newton and Ohm had had to wrestle with non-linear relationships. Again, humans would probably have gotten there in the end, but it would have taken a much longer time.
Mathematics is of course entirely man-made, so it is not as if these finds are part of nature. However, it does seem as if nature is prodding us along in our endeavours, saying "find an easy relationship, guys, and I'll make sure that it works in practice". If true, that would be the most surprising and relevant fact of all. Beautiful even.
Walter Blotscher
At various times in my life I have been a mathematics teacher. Ad hoc surveys of my pupils have shown that most children believe that mathematics is "important". But other adjectives - surprising, relevant, beautiful - get a decided thumbs-down.
That is a pity, since there is much in the subject that is both surprising and relevant. Take the humble right-angled triangle, for instance. It has been known since the time of the Ancient Greeks that the sum of the squares of the two smaller sides equals the square of the hypotenuse (Pythagoras' Theorem). Many people also know the easy solution (3,4,5) and the less-easy one (5,12,13). What is surprising about Pythagoras is that, of all the zillions of possible right-angled triangles, there is both a solution with whole numbers and that solution involves SMALL numbers.
The latter fact is very relevant. We know that the square-based Pyramids are extremely precise, and that their right-angles are almost exactly 90 degrees. How would an Egyptian overseer be able to build such a structure, even if he knew his Pythagoras? Plastic set-squares didn't exist in the time of Ramases II. But the overseer could make a rope out of papyrus, with knots at each end and 11 knots in the middle, each knot the same distance from its neighbours. Then he would put a stick in the middle of the fifth knot, one in the middle of the eighth knot and one in the middle of the first and thirteenth knots together. Hey presto, he now has a right-angled triangle and can start building a stone building that doesn't fall down. If there were no whole number solution to Pythagoras, or if there were one and the numbers were large (and why shouldn't they be large?), then the whole history of architecture would have been very different. Humans would probably have gotten there in the end, but it would have taken a much longer time.
Another surprising feature of mathematics is the large number of equations that are linear. By linear, I mean one in the form y = ax; double x and you double y. Linear equations are the simplest of all, easy to work with. You don't need a computer to find a solution.
Two of the most important equations for the whole development of science are linear. One of Newton's laws of motion is F = ma; force equals mass times acceleration. The other is Ohm's law V = IR, voltage equals current times resistance. A priori there is no reason why either of these equations should be linear; and if we looked at them in terms of probability, then the chances would be that they were not. Yet the world would probably have turned out very differently if Newton and Ohm had had to wrestle with non-linear relationships. Again, humans would probably have gotten there in the end, but it would have taken a much longer time.
Mathematics is of course entirely man-made, so it is not as if these finds are part of nature. However, it does seem as if nature is prodding us along in our endeavours, saying "find an easy relationship, guys, and I'll make sure that it works in practice". If true, that would be the most surprising and relevant fact of all. Beautiful even.
Walter Blotscher
Wednesday 17 February 2010
JURY TRIALS
It is beyond reasonable doubt that the British public remains wedded to the concept of trial by jury. It is seen as an ancient tradition, dating back to Magna Carta, that a man should be judged by twelve good men and true, and the export of the practice to England's colonies and dominions is held to be a cherished part of the country's contribution to world civilisation. Yet the practice is odd, for a number of reasons.
1. First, the link with Magna Carta is almost certainly a myth. What spurred the development of the jury was the Church's decision at the 4th Lateran Council in 1215 (the same year, coincidentally, as Magna Carta) to prohibit the clergy's participation in ordeals, the then standard procedure throughout Europe for trying crime. Ordeals, either ducking in a pond, or carrying a hot iron, were seen as the judgement of God. However, without the participation of a priest or monk, the practice lost its validity; and secular authorities had to scramble around for something else. In some nascent states, rulers plumped for the undoubtedly effective solution of torture. But torture in England has, albeit with exceptions, never really caught on. What came gradually into being instead was the jury, which had previously been used in some ad hoc situations, and seemed a promising alternative.
2. Secondly, despite the jury's high profile, less than 1% of criminal cases in England and Wales are decided by jury trial, the standard procedure being a hearing before (lay) magistrates. Furthermore, of the charges brought against defendants in a Crown Court, almost 60% result in a plea of guilty, thereby obviating the need for a trial. It is, therefore, only a very small minority of cases that require a jury. These are, however, cases involving the most serious crimes, such as murder, rape and criminal damage.
3. Thirdly, in an age in which public decision-makers of every kind are increasingly both required to give detailed reasons for their decisions, and to have those decisions potentially subject to judicial review by the courts, juries remain a striking exception. Once a jury has given a verdict of not guilty, that is that, however perverse that verdict may appear to third parties or the judge (a guilty verdict can be appealed by the defendant, but a not guilty verdict can not). How and why the jury came to their decision is off limits; and there are severe penalties under the Contempt of Court Act for both jurors who spill the beans and outsiders, such as newspapers, who try to find out what went on.
Might a greater understanding of how juries make their decisions help debunk the myths surrounding them? The first, tentative, steps in that direction have come about by the publication this week of Professor Cheryl Thomas' research on juries for the Judicial Studies Board. This analysed all 551,669 charges laid in all of the Crown Courts in England and Wales between 1 October 2006 and 31 March 2008, quite an undertaking. Her conclusions were broadly positive. The jury system is "fair, effective and efficient", and she managed to get rid of two major myths along the way; that all-white juries discriminate against black and other ethnic minority defendants, and that the conviction rate for rape offences is low (it is in fact 55%, higher than the conviction rate for other serious crimes such as manslaughter and grievous bodily harm).
Nevertheless, a lot more remains to be done (as Professor Thomas herself recognised), in two areas in particular. First, the current system is that the judge explains the law, and the jury then applies the facts (i.e. the evidence) to the law. However, the research showed that many jurors have difficulty in understanding the law, with only 31% understanding the instructions "fully in the legal terms used by the judge". To be fair, this is not all the fault of jurors. The mental element required for murder was only finally decided by the House of Lords in 1998 (R v Woollin), the mental element required for criminal damage was overturned by them in 2003 (R v G), the partial defence to murder of provocation was not cleared up until Holley (2005) and the defence of consent in rape was amended by the Sexual Offences Act 2003. If the substantive law for long-standing common law offences is changing, then it is perhaps not surprising that jurors have difficulties keeping up. One sensible suggestion from the research is for the judge always to give his directions on the law in writing (they currently have a discretion). The percentage of jurors' understanding rose to 48% in the study when this was done, an improvement which is understandable, given the complexities of some parts of the criminal law.
Secondly, almost half of jurors said that they did not know what to do, or were uncertain about what to do, if there was impropriety in the jury deliberating room. Many jurors also admitted to looking for information about the case on the internet, something they are not supposed to do. These two things are obviously linked, since the theory of juries is that they make a decision based on the evidence submitted in court and on that evidence alone. Information obtained elsewhere (whether for or against the defendant) punctures that theory, and if one knowledgeable juror persuades the others to change their view on the basis of that information, then impropriety may occur.
To address some of these problems, Professor Thomas recommended that jurors be given written guidelines, setting out what they can and cannot do during a trial. However, while that may tackle some issues, they don't in my view tackle the biggest, namely the completely sacrosanct nature of the jury's deliberations. The public body responsible for deciding less than 1% of criminal trials is, alone of virtually all public bodies, exempted from giving reasons for its decisions. I don't believe that that exemption should continue.
Walter Blotscher
It is beyond reasonable doubt that the British public remains wedded to the concept of trial by jury. It is seen as an ancient tradition, dating back to Magna Carta, that a man should be judged by twelve good men and true, and the export of the practice to England's colonies and dominions is held to be a cherished part of the country's contribution to world civilisation. Yet the practice is odd, for a number of reasons.
1. First, the link with Magna Carta is almost certainly a myth. What spurred the development of the jury was the Church's decision at the 4th Lateran Council in 1215 (the same year, coincidentally, as Magna Carta) to prohibit the clergy's participation in ordeals, the then standard procedure throughout Europe for trying crime. Ordeals, either ducking in a pond, or carrying a hot iron, were seen as the judgement of God. However, without the participation of a priest or monk, the practice lost its validity; and secular authorities had to scramble around for something else. In some nascent states, rulers plumped for the undoubtedly effective solution of torture. But torture in England has, albeit with exceptions, never really caught on. What came gradually into being instead was the jury, which had previously been used in some ad hoc situations, and seemed a promising alternative.
2. Secondly, despite the jury's high profile, less than 1% of criminal cases in England and Wales are decided by jury trial, the standard procedure being a hearing before (lay) magistrates. Furthermore, of the charges brought against defendants in a Crown Court, almost 60% result in a plea of guilty, thereby obviating the need for a trial. It is, therefore, only a very small minority of cases that require a jury. These are, however, cases involving the most serious crimes, such as murder, rape and criminal damage.
3. Thirdly, in an age in which public decision-makers of every kind are increasingly both required to give detailed reasons for their decisions, and to have those decisions potentially subject to judicial review by the courts, juries remain a striking exception. Once a jury has given a verdict of not guilty, that is that, however perverse that verdict may appear to third parties or the judge (a guilty verdict can be appealed by the defendant, but a not guilty verdict can not). How and why the jury came to their decision is off limits; and there are severe penalties under the Contempt of Court Act for both jurors who spill the beans and outsiders, such as newspapers, who try to find out what went on.
Might a greater understanding of how juries make their decisions help debunk the myths surrounding them? The first, tentative, steps in that direction have come about by the publication this week of Professor Cheryl Thomas' research on juries for the Judicial Studies Board. This analysed all 551,669 charges laid in all of the Crown Courts in England and Wales between 1 October 2006 and 31 March 2008, quite an undertaking. Her conclusions were broadly positive. The jury system is "fair, effective and efficient", and she managed to get rid of two major myths along the way; that all-white juries discriminate against black and other ethnic minority defendants, and that the conviction rate for rape offences is low (it is in fact 55%, higher than the conviction rate for other serious crimes such as manslaughter and grievous bodily harm).
Nevertheless, a lot more remains to be done (as Professor Thomas herself recognised), in two areas in particular. First, the current system is that the judge explains the law, and the jury then applies the facts (i.e. the evidence) to the law. However, the research showed that many jurors have difficulty in understanding the law, with only 31% understanding the instructions "fully in the legal terms used by the judge". To be fair, this is not all the fault of jurors. The mental element required for murder was only finally decided by the House of Lords in 1998 (R v Woollin), the mental element required for criminal damage was overturned by them in 2003 (R v G), the partial defence to murder of provocation was not cleared up until Holley (2005) and the defence of consent in rape was amended by the Sexual Offences Act 2003. If the substantive law for long-standing common law offences is changing, then it is perhaps not surprising that jurors have difficulties keeping up. One sensible suggestion from the research is for the judge always to give his directions on the law in writing (they currently have a discretion). The percentage of jurors' understanding rose to 48% in the study when this was done, an improvement which is understandable, given the complexities of some parts of the criminal law.
Secondly, almost half of jurors said that they did not know what to do, or were uncertain about what to do, if there was impropriety in the jury deliberating room. Many jurors also admitted to looking for information about the case on the internet, something they are not supposed to do. These two things are obviously linked, since the theory of juries is that they make a decision based on the evidence submitted in court and on that evidence alone. Information obtained elsewhere (whether for or against the defendant) punctures that theory, and if one knowledgeable juror persuades the others to change their view on the basis of that information, then impropriety may occur.
To address some of these problems, Professor Thomas recommended that jurors be given written guidelines, setting out what they can and cannot do during a trial. However, while that may tackle some issues, they don't in my view tackle the biggest, namely the completely sacrosanct nature of the jury's deliberations. The public body responsible for deciding less than 1% of criminal trials is, alone of virtually all public bodies, exempted from giving reasons for its decisions. I don't believe that that exemption should continue.
Walter Blotscher
CRASHES AT THE OLYMPICS
After the seriousness of Guantanamo Bay and the Court of Appeal, something more light-hearted.
Didn't you love the final of the 1500m short-track speed skating competition? Coming into the final bend, three Koreans had forged ahead of two Americans. Everything looked set for a Korean grand slam, when whoops, a couple of skates touched, and two of them went sliding into the foam barriers, handing the U.S. an ill-deserved silver and bronze. Television showed this wonderful slow-motion sequence, focussing on the anguish on one of the Koreans' faces, as he watched the finish line gradually slide - literally - into the distance.
Yes, it was unfair. And yes, it's hard on athletes that have trained for 4 years in order to have a chance of Olympic glory. But the fact of the matter is that the possibility of crashes is what makes short-track speed skating interesting to watch. The classical version is rather dull, all bulging quads, skin-tight lycra suits and reflecting sunglasses. Watching these brightly coloured athletes go smoothly round and round an oval track is a bit of a yawn. Much better to have the bumps and pushes and jockeying for position and changes of lead and - yes - crashes in the short-track variety.
Purists will knock the appearance of short-track speed skating, along with its alpine cousins, snowboard and ski "cross". But they make for great entertainment. In these straightened times, we can all do with a bit of that.
Walter Blotscher
After the seriousness of Guantanamo Bay and the Court of Appeal, something more light-hearted.
Didn't you love the final of the 1500m short-track speed skating competition? Coming into the final bend, three Koreans had forged ahead of two Americans. Everything looked set for a Korean grand slam, when whoops, a couple of skates touched, and two of them went sliding into the foam barriers, handing the U.S. an ill-deserved silver and bronze. Television showed this wonderful slow-motion sequence, focussing on the anguish on one of the Koreans' faces, as he watched the finish line gradually slide - literally - into the distance.
Yes, it was unfair. And yes, it's hard on athletes that have trained for 4 years in order to have a chance of Olympic glory. But the fact of the matter is that the possibility of crashes is what makes short-track speed skating interesting to watch. The classical version is rather dull, all bulging quads, skin-tight lycra suits and reflecting sunglasses. Watching these brightly coloured athletes go smoothly round and round an oval track is a bit of a yawn. Much better to have the bumps and pushes and jockeying for position and changes of lead and - yes - crashes in the short-track variety.
Purists will knock the appearance of short-track speed skating, along with its alpine cousins, snowboard and ski "cross". But they make for great entertainment. In these straightened times, we can all do with a bit of that.
Walter Blotscher
Monday 15 February 2010
BINYAM MOHAMED
I haven't blogged for a couple of days, as I have been busy reading the (copious) material on the case of Binyam Mohamed, starting with the 296 paragraph judgment by the U.K.'s Court of Appeal, which was issued on 10 February 2010. The judgment, and the related open judgments made earlier by the Divisional Court, should be required reading for anybody concerned about the role of the executive in combatting terrorism, and the potential for infringements of personal liberty, whether through mistakes or worse.
Since the issue decided by the appeal was a relatively technical one, what Sir Anthony May called in his judgment "satellite litigation ... overlain, and to an extent obscured, by forensic and procedural froth", let me get one issue out of the way at the start. Binyam Mohamed, an Ethiopian-born British resident, spent almost 7 years in prison in Pakistan, Morocco, Afghanistan and Guantanamo Bay, before being released without charge in 2009. During that time he was tortured, either directly by U.S. officials, or if not directly, certainly with their connivance. We know this because of the findings of a U.S. judge in the separate case of Farhi Saeed Bin Mohamed v. Barack Obama, a habeas corpus application made in July 2005 by another Guantanamo Bay inmate. The U.S. authorities objected to the petition for habeas corpus in part on the basis of incriminating evidence provided by Mr. Binyam Mohamed. Since Mr Binyam Mohamed had said that this incriminating evidence had only been obtained from him because of torture, the judge was required to assess this evidence.
It is worth setting out the summary of the judge's facts, which are included in para 23 of the Court of Appeal judgment by Lord Judge, the Lord Chief Justice:
"a) (Mr Mohamed's) trauma lasted for 2 long years. During that time he was physically and psychologically tortured. His genitals were mutilated. He was deprived of sleep and food. He was summarily transported from one foreign prison to another. Captors held him in stress positions for days at a time. He was forced to listen to piercingly loud music and the screams of other prisoners while locked in a pitch-black cell. All the while, he was forced to inculpate himself and others in various plots to imperil Americans. The Government does not dispute this evidence.
b) In this case, even though the identity of the individual interrogator changed, (from nameless Pakistanis, to Moroccans, to Americans, and to special agent (the name is redacted)), there is no question that throughout his ordeal, Binyam Mohamed was being held at the behest of the United States .... The court finds that (Mr. Mohamed's) will was overborne by his lengthy prior torture, and therefore his confessions to special agent ... do not represent reliable evidence to detain petitioner."
In other words, what Mr Binyam Mohamed had said was true. Given that, is it so surprising that ordinary people in other countries have poor opinions - and I put it no higher than that - of the United States? As Lord Judge pointed out, torture has not been allowed in England since 1640, a common law tradition which predates the founding of the United States by more than 100 years. Yet here we are in 2010, and it still goes on. To the riposte favoured by the Bush adminstration that exceptional times require exceptional measures, I would merely quote the great dictum that "he who would put security before liberty deserves neither".
If the Court of Appeal case was not about Mr Mohamed's torture, at least not directly, what then was it about? The answer lies in 2008, before he was released from Guantanamo Bay. At the time, it was thought that the U.S. would be bringing charges against him based on his confessions, charges which would have carried the death penalty. His lawyers applied to the U.K. Divisional Court to gain access to intelligence material provided by the U.S. to the U.K. under their intelligence-sharing arrangements, material which would demonstrate the torture allegations outlined above, and thereby enable Mr Mohamed to defeat the charges in the U.S. The Foreign Secretary resisted this application, on the grounds of the so-called "control" principle, whereby intelligence provided by one country to another should not be released to third parties without the consent of the originating country. In essence, the Foreign Secretary lost that battle, and the material was released to Mr Mohamed's lawyers. As things turned out, it was not needed, since he was released without charge (though the fact that his lawyers had obtained the material might well have been a factor in his release).
However, the Court of Appeal judgment was not even about that. What it concerned was the publication of the Divisional Court's first open judgment (there were a series of judgments, some open and some closed) in which seven short paragraphs detailing Mr Mohamed's treatment had been "redacted" (i.e. removed). At the time, this treatment had not been definitively decided as being true, and the Foreign Secretary argued that it would be wrong to publish it, notwithstanding the normal practice in the U.K. that judgments are made in their entirety in open court. In their fourth open judgment, the Divisional Court weighed up the pros and cons, and decided in favour of keeping the redaction. They then reopened that judgment, and subsequently overturned it, in their fifth open judgment. It was that decision, which was upheld by the Court of Appeal. One of the key factors in their decision was the judgment of the U.S. court outlined above, which was given after the Divisional Court's fifth open judgment, and which rendered much of the argument academic.
If the decision of the Court of Appeal, heard by its three senior judges (the Lord Chief Justice, the Master of the Rolls, and the President of the Family Division), turned out to have been a redundant technicality, why then is it important? For two reasons, I think.
First, the Foreign Secretary maintains, both on the Foreign Office website and in his statement to Parliament, that the U.K. Government "fought the case to preserve (the control) principle". The material in question was intelligence material, it had been given by the U.S. to the U.K. as such, it should not therefore be released. The control principle was "inviolable".
I must admit that I don't believe this. For the simple reason that both the Divisional Court and the Court of Appeal accepted the control principle. Although, as Lord Judge said, it is "not a principle of law", it is "integral to intelligence sharing arrangements". Where the courts differed from the executive was the extent of the principle, whether it is indeed "inviolable" or whether it has to be set aside as part of a balancing exercise in certain limited, albeit exceptional, circumstances, in order to achieve justice or comply with the rule of law. The courts had in fact all gone through such a balancing exercise. In the Divisional Court's fourth open judgment the balance had come down in favour of redaction because of the Bush Administration's categorical statement that intelligence-sharing with the U.K. would suffer if the relevant paragraphs were published, thereby reducing the safety of the U.K. The re-opening and subsequent overturning of that judgment came about because of public statements by the incoming Obama Administration that suggested a new approach; and although the Americans subequently confirmed that they would prefer the paragraphs to remain redacted, they appeared to be less categorical in their spelling-out of the consequences. Both Lord Neuberger and Sir Anthony May were inclined, on their balancing exercise, to revert to the position of the fourth open judgment and keep the paragraphs redacted. But then came the U.S. judgment outlined above, and the exercise became redundant; as Sir Anthony May put it, by that time the Foreign Secretary was seeking to "defend a principle entirely devoid of factual content on which to hang it".
The need to modify the principle in certain circumstances is not new. Ever since the House of Lords decision in Conway v. Rimmer (1968) it has been settled law that the ultimate decision about the disclosure of documents rests with the judiciary, not the executive; one must assume that the Foreign Secretary's own legal advisers know this. And although the judiciary has been at pains in recent times to defer to the view of the executive when it comes to matters of national security - as, indeed, they did in this case - it is ultimately for the judiciary to review the executive's actions. As Lord Judge put it:
" ... I have been unable to eradicate the impression that we are being invited to accept that once the Foreign Secretary has made his judgment of all the relevant considerations, including the interests of justice, and notwithstanding that in law, the control principle is not absolute, so far as the court is concerned, as a matter of practical reality, that should be that. However, although in the context of public safety it is axiomatic that his views are entitled to the utmost respect, they cannot command the unquestioning acquiescence of the court."
Why then did the Foreign Secretary persist in the case, if his official reason had already been conceded? Why, in particular, did he persist once the U.S. judgment was in the public domain? My second point is that the answer, I fear, lies in something I mentioned earlier in my blog on the Iraq War Inquiry, namely the disproportionate weight placed by successive U.K. Governments on the "special relationship" with the U.S. and their unwillingness to do anything which might be perceived as criticising that relationship. Would the U.K. Government have gone to such lengths to pursue "satellite litigation" if the relevant intelligence had come from (say) the French or the Australians? Not being party to such intelligence-sharing, I have absolutely no means of knowing for sure. But I have to say that I doubt it.
Finally, let us not forget that this case is not yet closed. A police investigation is looking at the possibility that members of the U.K. intelligence community broke the law by providing assistance to Mr Mohamed's torturers. And Mr. Mohamed is preparing a civil case for damages. One can only wish him the very best in his endeavours.
Walter Blotscher
I haven't blogged for a couple of days, as I have been busy reading the (copious) material on the case of Binyam Mohamed, starting with the 296 paragraph judgment by the U.K.'s Court of Appeal, which was issued on 10 February 2010. The judgment, and the related open judgments made earlier by the Divisional Court, should be required reading for anybody concerned about the role of the executive in combatting terrorism, and the potential for infringements of personal liberty, whether through mistakes or worse.
Since the issue decided by the appeal was a relatively technical one, what Sir Anthony May called in his judgment "satellite litigation ... overlain, and to an extent obscured, by forensic and procedural froth", let me get one issue out of the way at the start. Binyam Mohamed, an Ethiopian-born British resident, spent almost 7 years in prison in Pakistan, Morocco, Afghanistan and Guantanamo Bay, before being released without charge in 2009. During that time he was tortured, either directly by U.S. officials, or if not directly, certainly with their connivance. We know this because of the findings of a U.S. judge in the separate case of Farhi Saeed Bin Mohamed v. Barack Obama, a habeas corpus application made in July 2005 by another Guantanamo Bay inmate. The U.S. authorities objected to the petition for habeas corpus in part on the basis of incriminating evidence provided by Mr. Binyam Mohamed. Since Mr Binyam Mohamed had said that this incriminating evidence had only been obtained from him because of torture, the judge was required to assess this evidence.
It is worth setting out the summary of the judge's facts, which are included in para 23 of the Court of Appeal judgment by Lord Judge, the Lord Chief Justice:
"a) (Mr Mohamed's) trauma lasted for 2 long years. During that time he was physically and psychologically tortured. His genitals were mutilated. He was deprived of sleep and food. He was summarily transported from one foreign prison to another. Captors held him in stress positions for days at a time. He was forced to listen to piercingly loud music and the screams of other prisoners while locked in a pitch-black cell. All the while, he was forced to inculpate himself and others in various plots to imperil Americans. The Government does not dispute this evidence.
b) In this case, even though the identity of the individual interrogator changed, (from nameless Pakistanis, to Moroccans, to Americans, and to special agent (the name is redacted)), there is no question that throughout his ordeal, Binyam Mohamed was being held at the behest of the United States .... The court finds that (Mr. Mohamed's) will was overborne by his lengthy prior torture, and therefore his confessions to special agent ... do not represent reliable evidence to detain petitioner."
In other words, what Mr Binyam Mohamed had said was true. Given that, is it so surprising that ordinary people in other countries have poor opinions - and I put it no higher than that - of the United States? As Lord Judge pointed out, torture has not been allowed in England since 1640, a common law tradition which predates the founding of the United States by more than 100 years. Yet here we are in 2010, and it still goes on. To the riposte favoured by the Bush adminstration that exceptional times require exceptional measures, I would merely quote the great dictum that "he who would put security before liberty deserves neither".
If the Court of Appeal case was not about Mr Mohamed's torture, at least not directly, what then was it about? The answer lies in 2008, before he was released from Guantanamo Bay. At the time, it was thought that the U.S. would be bringing charges against him based on his confessions, charges which would have carried the death penalty. His lawyers applied to the U.K. Divisional Court to gain access to intelligence material provided by the U.S. to the U.K. under their intelligence-sharing arrangements, material which would demonstrate the torture allegations outlined above, and thereby enable Mr Mohamed to defeat the charges in the U.S. The Foreign Secretary resisted this application, on the grounds of the so-called "control" principle, whereby intelligence provided by one country to another should not be released to third parties without the consent of the originating country. In essence, the Foreign Secretary lost that battle, and the material was released to Mr Mohamed's lawyers. As things turned out, it was not needed, since he was released without charge (though the fact that his lawyers had obtained the material might well have been a factor in his release).
However, the Court of Appeal judgment was not even about that. What it concerned was the publication of the Divisional Court's first open judgment (there were a series of judgments, some open and some closed) in which seven short paragraphs detailing Mr Mohamed's treatment had been "redacted" (i.e. removed). At the time, this treatment had not been definitively decided as being true, and the Foreign Secretary argued that it would be wrong to publish it, notwithstanding the normal practice in the U.K. that judgments are made in their entirety in open court. In their fourth open judgment, the Divisional Court weighed up the pros and cons, and decided in favour of keeping the redaction. They then reopened that judgment, and subsequently overturned it, in their fifth open judgment. It was that decision, which was upheld by the Court of Appeal. One of the key factors in their decision was the judgment of the U.S. court outlined above, which was given after the Divisional Court's fifth open judgment, and which rendered much of the argument academic.
If the decision of the Court of Appeal, heard by its three senior judges (the Lord Chief Justice, the Master of the Rolls, and the President of the Family Division), turned out to have been a redundant technicality, why then is it important? For two reasons, I think.
First, the Foreign Secretary maintains, both on the Foreign Office website and in his statement to Parliament, that the U.K. Government "fought the case to preserve (the control) principle". The material in question was intelligence material, it had been given by the U.S. to the U.K. as such, it should not therefore be released. The control principle was "inviolable".
I must admit that I don't believe this. For the simple reason that both the Divisional Court and the Court of Appeal accepted the control principle. Although, as Lord Judge said, it is "not a principle of law", it is "integral to intelligence sharing arrangements". Where the courts differed from the executive was the extent of the principle, whether it is indeed "inviolable" or whether it has to be set aside as part of a balancing exercise in certain limited, albeit exceptional, circumstances, in order to achieve justice or comply with the rule of law. The courts had in fact all gone through such a balancing exercise. In the Divisional Court's fourth open judgment the balance had come down in favour of redaction because of the Bush Administration's categorical statement that intelligence-sharing with the U.K. would suffer if the relevant paragraphs were published, thereby reducing the safety of the U.K. The re-opening and subsequent overturning of that judgment came about because of public statements by the incoming Obama Administration that suggested a new approach; and although the Americans subequently confirmed that they would prefer the paragraphs to remain redacted, they appeared to be less categorical in their spelling-out of the consequences. Both Lord Neuberger and Sir Anthony May were inclined, on their balancing exercise, to revert to the position of the fourth open judgment and keep the paragraphs redacted. But then came the U.S. judgment outlined above, and the exercise became redundant; as Sir Anthony May put it, by that time the Foreign Secretary was seeking to "defend a principle entirely devoid of factual content on which to hang it".
The need to modify the principle in certain circumstances is not new. Ever since the House of Lords decision in Conway v. Rimmer (1968) it has been settled law that the ultimate decision about the disclosure of documents rests with the judiciary, not the executive; one must assume that the Foreign Secretary's own legal advisers know this. And although the judiciary has been at pains in recent times to defer to the view of the executive when it comes to matters of national security - as, indeed, they did in this case - it is ultimately for the judiciary to review the executive's actions. As Lord Judge put it:
" ... I have been unable to eradicate the impression that we are being invited to accept that once the Foreign Secretary has made his judgment of all the relevant considerations, including the interests of justice, and notwithstanding that in law, the control principle is not absolute, so far as the court is concerned, as a matter of practical reality, that should be that. However, although in the context of public safety it is axiomatic that his views are entitled to the utmost respect, they cannot command the unquestioning acquiescence of the court."
Why then did the Foreign Secretary persist in the case, if his official reason had already been conceded? Why, in particular, did he persist once the U.S. judgment was in the public domain? My second point is that the answer, I fear, lies in something I mentioned earlier in my blog on the Iraq War Inquiry, namely the disproportionate weight placed by successive U.K. Governments on the "special relationship" with the U.S. and their unwillingness to do anything which might be perceived as criticising that relationship. Would the U.K. Government have gone to such lengths to pursue "satellite litigation" if the relevant intelligence had come from (say) the French or the Australians? Not being party to such intelligence-sharing, I have absolutely no means of knowing for sure. But I have to say that I doubt it.
Finally, let us not forget that this case is not yet closed. A police investigation is looking at the possibility that members of the U.K. intelligence community broke the law by providing assistance to Mr Mohamed's torturers. And Mr. Mohamed is preparing a civil case for damages. One can only wish him the very best in his endeavours.
Walter Blotscher
Wednesday 10 February 2010
SIKHS AND KNIVES
Should Sikhs be allowed to wear a kirpan, a sort of dagger, when the carrying of knives generally is otherwise proscribed? Yes, says Sir Mota Singh, the U.K.'s frst Asian judge and himself a Sikh. Religious symbols are both very potent and very important to the individual concerned. For centuries, the kirpan has been one of the five "articles of faith" that are worn by practising Sikhs. The daggers themselves are always sheathed and nearly always hidden under clothing. They are often not very large or dangerous. Besides which, the practice is allowed by law in the U.K., there being an exemption in the Criminal Justice Act 1988 if a blade is carried for religious purposes.
But should there be? I admit that I have difficulties with this; and not just because kilt-wearing Scots are not allowed to wear a real dagger in their sock. Nor is it because only a minority of Sikhs happen to be fully practising and so carry the kirpan; no more than 10%, according to an adviser to the Sikh Federation U.K. Nor is it because Sikhs sometimes seem to get special deals in other areas (not having to wear crash helmets on motorcycles, for instance).
The wider point is that religious symbols, even if they are of ancient and long-standing heritage, need to take account of the society in which they are used, and adapt to that society over time, if necessary. In the Middle Ages, when almost everybody in Europe was a practising Christian, one of the highest symbols of secular religious piety was to become a knight. Men entering the brotherhood were expected to swear binding oaths, and preparation included an all-night vigil in a church on the eve before the ceremony. The symbol of that ceremony was a sword, which was not only the instrument used to dub a knight (indeed, as Sir Mota Singh well knows, it is still the instrument used), but was also the object, which most distinguished knights from ordinary people. However, while knights today remain a minority, nobody is seriously suggesting that Captains of Industry and senior civil servants should be allowed to wear a sword in everyday life as they used to do. Religious symbolism has had to bow to communal fears about people having potentially dangerous weapons.
It may well be that the general public's perception of the extent of "knife crime" is exaggerated. But that doesn't mean that those fears do not exist. The fact of the matter is that the kirpan is a knife, even if it is worn as part of a Sikh's religion. What may well have been mere common sense back in 1699 is not viewed as such by most citizens today. I think the religious exemption should be scrapped.
Walter Blotscher
Should Sikhs be allowed to wear a kirpan, a sort of dagger, when the carrying of knives generally is otherwise proscribed? Yes, says Sir Mota Singh, the U.K.'s frst Asian judge and himself a Sikh. Religious symbols are both very potent and very important to the individual concerned. For centuries, the kirpan has been one of the five "articles of faith" that are worn by practising Sikhs. The daggers themselves are always sheathed and nearly always hidden under clothing. They are often not very large or dangerous. Besides which, the practice is allowed by law in the U.K., there being an exemption in the Criminal Justice Act 1988 if a blade is carried for religious purposes.
But should there be? I admit that I have difficulties with this; and not just because kilt-wearing Scots are not allowed to wear a real dagger in their sock. Nor is it because only a minority of Sikhs happen to be fully practising and so carry the kirpan; no more than 10%, according to an adviser to the Sikh Federation U.K. Nor is it because Sikhs sometimes seem to get special deals in other areas (not having to wear crash helmets on motorcycles, for instance).
The wider point is that religious symbols, even if they are of ancient and long-standing heritage, need to take account of the society in which they are used, and adapt to that society over time, if necessary. In the Middle Ages, when almost everybody in Europe was a practising Christian, one of the highest symbols of secular religious piety was to become a knight. Men entering the brotherhood were expected to swear binding oaths, and preparation included an all-night vigil in a church on the eve before the ceremony. The symbol of that ceremony was a sword, which was not only the instrument used to dub a knight (indeed, as Sir Mota Singh well knows, it is still the instrument used), but was also the object, which most distinguished knights from ordinary people. However, while knights today remain a minority, nobody is seriously suggesting that Captains of Industry and senior civil servants should be allowed to wear a sword in everyday life as they used to do. Religious symbolism has had to bow to communal fears about people having potentially dangerous weapons.
It may well be that the general public's perception of the extent of "knife crime" is exaggerated. But that doesn't mean that those fears do not exist. The fact of the matter is that the kirpan is a knife, even if it is worn as part of a Sikh's religion. What may well have been mere common sense back in 1699 is not viewed as such by most citizens today. I think the religious exemption should be scrapped.
Walter Blotscher
Tuesday 9 February 2010
LEARNING NEW SKILLS
2009 was a strange year in many respects. One of the strangest was that I suddenly started becoming a practical pig. After almost 50 years in which I could barely change a plug, I learned tree-clearing, painting, carpentry, insulation and bricklaying. Thanks to my efforts, the value of our house rose by more than 15% between 2007 and 2009, against the backdrop of a sharply falling market.
And, I have to admit, I really enjoyed it. I wasn't under any particular time pressure, so it didn't matter if I took ages to paint the foundation or render the chimney. I was lucky with the weather, with long periods of sunshine when I was painting the house in May and replacing the roof in September. Neighbours chipped in, giving me technical tips, and lending me scaffolding, both for free; well, in return for no more than a couple of bottles of wine, the local currency where I live. My wife looked on approvingly and stopped ticking me off for not doing enough chores. I even managed to impress my children.
I'll never be able to earn my living as a "fundi", I am far too slow. But it has given me great satsifaction to be able to learn something so different at my age. I highly recommend it.
Walter Blotscher
2009 was a strange year in many respects. One of the strangest was that I suddenly started becoming a practical pig. After almost 50 years in which I could barely change a plug, I learned tree-clearing, painting, carpentry, insulation and bricklaying. Thanks to my efforts, the value of our house rose by more than 15% between 2007 and 2009, against the backdrop of a sharply falling market.
And, I have to admit, I really enjoyed it. I wasn't under any particular time pressure, so it didn't matter if I took ages to paint the foundation or render the chimney. I was lucky with the weather, with long periods of sunshine when I was painting the house in May and replacing the roof in September. Neighbours chipped in, giving me technical tips, and lending me scaffolding, both for free; well, in return for no more than a couple of bottles of wine, the local currency where I live. My wife looked on approvingly and stopped ticking me off for not doing enough chores. I even managed to impress my children.
I'll never be able to earn my living as a "fundi", I am far too slow. But it has given me great satsifaction to be able to learn something so different at my age. I highly recommend it.
Walter Blotscher
Monday 8 February 2010
THE SUPER BOWL (2)
What a great match! Close until the final three minutes, when an uncharacteristically poor pass from Peyton Manning gave an interception touchdown for the Saints and too much of a lead.
In the end, the better side won. Not because they had the better players, but because they had the more inventive tactics and belief in themselves. The onside kick at the beginning of the second half was great. So too the 2-point conversion.
So that's the end of that for the next six months. Roll on Vancouver ...
Walter Blotscher
What a great match! Close until the final three minutes, when an uncharacteristically poor pass from Peyton Manning gave an interception touchdown for the Saints and too much of a lead.
In the end, the better side won. Not because they had the better players, but because they had the more inventive tactics and belief in themselves. The onside kick at the beginning of the second half was great. So too the 2-point conversion.
So that's the end of that for the next six months. Roll on Vancouver ...
Walter Blotscher
Sunday 7 February 2010
THE SUPER BOWL
American football is a mad, if not ridiculous, game. It is supposed to take an hour; but with changes of personnel, stopping the clock, time-outs, a two-minute warning in each half and advert breaks, it takes three to four hours. Because of position specialisation, in offense, defense and special teams, there are huge numbers of players (more than 50) in the playing squad, though only 11 on the field at any one time. Nearly all of the players are fantastic athletes, or frighteningly big, or both. Yet many of them spend less than 10 minutes a game actually running, or blocking, or catching, or tackling; most of the time they just stand on the sidelines, looking menacing in their shoulder pads and cheekbone warpaint.
It also embodies peculiarly American traits. The winners of the Super Bowl are called the world champions, even though the game is only really played in the U.S. and Canada. The Super Bowl numbers are for some reason in Latin, perhaps echoing a gladiatorial past. Matches start with ever more strangulated versions of the National Anthem. And there is an army of esoteric statistics such as "yards carried after receiving the ball" or a quarterback rating of more than a hundred that still manages to have a decimal point in it (why?).
Does that mean that I won't be watching the Colts v the Saints tonight? Absolutely not. Despite, or because of, all of the above, I find American football absolutely gripping. The need for precise teamwork and split-second timing is almost unparalleled in sport. There is scope for unbelievable plays, both offensively and defensively. The helmets and padding make it almost impossible to play dirty. The weird machinations of the clock mean that many games are not over until they are over. All they need to do now is get rid of the advert breaks, and it would be perfect ...
Walter Blotscher
American football is a mad, if not ridiculous, game. It is supposed to take an hour; but with changes of personnel, stopping the clock, time-outs, a two-minute warning in each half and advert breaks, it takes three to four hours. Because of position specialisation, in offense, defense and special teams, there are huge numbers of players (more than 50) in the playing squad, though only 11 on the field at any one time. Nearly all of the players are fantastic athletes, or frighteningly big, or both. Yet many of them spend less than 10 minutes a game actually running, or blocking, or catching, or tackling; most of the time they just stand on the sidelines, looking menacing in their shoulder pads and cheekbone warpaint.
It also embodies peculiarly American traits. The winners of the Super Bowl are called the world champions, even though the game is only really played in the U.S. and Canada. The Super Bowl numbers are for some reason in Latin, perhaps echoing a gladiatorial past. Matches start with ever more strangulated versions of the National Anthem. And there is an army of esoteric statistics such as "yards carried after receiving the ball" or a quarterback rating of more than a hundred that still manages to have a decimal point in it (why?).
Does that mean that I won't be watching the Colts v the Saints tonight? Absolutely not. Despite, or because of, all of the above, I find American football absolutely gripping. The need for precise teamwork and split-second timing is almost unparalleled in sport. There is scope for unbelievable plays, both offensively and defensively. The helmets and padding make it almost impossible to play dirty. The weird machinations of the clock mean that many games are not over until they are over. All they need to do now is get rid of the advert breaks, and it would be perfect ...
Walter Blotscher
Saturday 6 February 2010
MPs' EXPENSES
Hats off to Keir Starmer, the U.K.'s Director of Public Prosecutions, and his decision to charge three MP's and one peer for false accounting. The criminal prosecutions, under s.17 of the Theft Act 1968, are the most prominent fall-out of the scandal about parliamentary expenses, which erupted a year or so ago.
Although all of the defendants are bravely saying that they will robustly defend the charges, I suspect that the reality will be different. The Metropolitan Police, to whom the allegations of criminal activity were first made, and Starmer's Crown Prosecution Service, who have a duty to weigh up both the robustness of any evidence the police provide and whether the prosecution is in the public interest, have had a long time to review the files. It is highly unlikely that they would mount high-profile prosecutions of this kind if they weren't very sure of their ground.
One interesting constitutional side-issue is the defendants' proposed defence of Parliamentary Privilege. This normally covers what MP's and peers say in Parliament and protects them from libel suits if they say something wrong or defamatory, the justification being that Parliament and democracy require people to be able to speak their minds freely. Extending that judicial convention to what otherwise would be ordinary criminal acts would go down like a lead balloon with the general public, and would be difficult for a judiciary confronted more and more by the rigours of the Human Rights Act. Particuarly since some of those allegedly criminal acts look to be so blatant. The charge sheet of former Minister Elliot Morley says that he claimed £16,000 of mortgage expenses from - ultimately - the taxpayer in respect of a property that did not have a mortgage. That's hard to justify under any regime. My advice is that if true, he should quickly plead guilty, and hope for a lenient sentence.
Walter Blotscher
Hats off to Keir Starmer, the U.K.'s Director of Public Prosecutions, and his decision to charge three MP's and one peer for false accounting. The criminal prosecutions, under s.17 of the Theft Act 1968, are the most prominent fall-out of the scandal about parliamentary expenses, which erupted a year or so ago.
Although all of the defendants are bravely saying that they will robustly defend the charges, I suspect that the reality will be different. The Metropolitan Police, to whom the allegations of criminal activity were first made, and Starmer's Crown Prosecution Service, who have a duty to weigh up both the robustness of any evidence the police provide and whether the prosecution is in the public interest, have had a long time to review the files. It is highly unlikely that they would mount high-profile prosecutions of this kind if they weren't very sure of their ground.
One interesting constitutional side-issue is the defendants' proposed defence of Parliamentary Privilege. This normally covers what MP's and peers say in Parliament and protects them from libel suits if they say something wrong or defamatory, the justification being that Parliament and democracy require people to be able to speak their minds freely. Extending that judicial convention to what otherwise would be ordinary criminal acts would go down like a lead balloon with the general public, and would be difficult for a judiciary confronted more and more by the rigours of the Human Rights Act. Particuarly since some of those allegedly criminal acts look to be so blatant. The charge sheet of former Minister Elliot Morley says that he claimed £16,000 of mortgage expenses from - ultimately - the taxpayer in respect of a property that did not have a mortgage. That's hard to justify under any regime. My advice is that if true, he should quickly plead guilty, and hope for a lenient sentence.
Walter Blotscher
Friday 5 February 2010
CLIMATE CHANGE
January 2010 was the coldest month in the U.K. for 23 years, and it was the same in Scandinavia. Taking the two months together, it was the coldest January and December in England and Wales since 1981/2, in Northern Ireland since 1962/3, and in Scotland since 1914!
Does that mean that the world is cooling down and that climate change is now going the other way? Not judging by the media. Opinion formers are obviously quite willing to view this winter as an exception that doesn't alter the long-term trend. The world is hotting up, it just doesn't do it all of the time.
In these post-Copenhagen times, I find this asymmetric view of the data rather puzzling. It is quite clear that there have been times in the past when the world was both hotter and colder. Around the year 1000, it was warmer, thereby allowing Viking settlers to survive in southern Greenland, presumably so-called because it was green rather than white. In the 17th century, by contrast, it was colder. The Thames froze over according to Pepys; and the Swedes won one of their perennial wars against the Danes by marching an army across the frozen Belts from north Germany to attack Copenhagen from the west.
Are we, therefore, merely in the throes of one of these "natural" cycles. To be frank, I just don't know. Nor, I suspect, do the vast majority of people. The idea of climate change - for the worse, and everywhere, not just on small Pacific islands - seems to have taken strong root in people's minds. It will be interesting to see if that perception holds, if next winter turns out to be "the coldest since ...".
Walter Blotscher
January 2010 was the coldest month in the U.K. for 23 years, and it was the same in Scandinavia. Taking the two months together, it was the coldest January and December in England and Wales since 1981/2, in Northern Ireland since 1962/3, and in Scotland since 1914!
Does that mean that the world is cooling down and that climate change is now going the other way? Not judging by the media. Opinion formers are obviously quite willing to view this winter as an exception that doesn't alter the long-term trend. The world is hotting up, it just doesn't do it all of the time.
In these post-Copenhagen times, I find this asymmetric view of the data rather puzzling. It is quite clear that there have been times in the past when the world was both hotter and colder. Around the year 1000, it was warmer, thereby allowing Viking settlers to survive in southern Greenland, presumably so-called because it was green rather than white. In the 17th century, by contrast, it was colder. The Thames froze over according to Pepys; and the Swedes won one of their perennial wars against the Danes by marching an army across the frozen Belts from north Germany to attack Copenhagen from the west.
Are we, therefore, merely in the throes of one of these "natural" cycles. To be frank, I just don't know. Nor, I suspect, do the vast majority of people. The idea of climate change - for the worse, and everywhere, not just on small Pacific islands - seems to have taken strong root in people's minds. It will be interesting to see if that perception holds, if next winter turns out to be "the coldest since ...".
Walter Blotscher
Thursday 4 February 2010
PLAYING AWAY FROM HOME ...
Should England football captain John Terry be sacked from that position for shagging a woman who is not his wife? That is the question that seems to be overshadowing everything else in the U.K. at the moment.
No, in my view. Unless there is some sort of contractual commitment that we don't know about, being the leader on the football field does not demand marital fidelity. It is true that the woman in question was the girlfriend of a fellow member of the England squad, and had had his child. But they had already split up before Terry appeared on the scene. Justifying a sacking on the grounds of bringing peace to the dressing room seems to be more than overegging the pudding. Besides which, Terry is a much, much better player than Wayne Bridge will ever be. If one of them had to go, it wouldn't be Terry.
Tiger Woods had vast column inches of disapproval heaped all over him for doing similar things, and lost a lot of endorsements as a result. However, those endorsements were given - in part - because he represented an image of the squeaky-clean family man; and if he no longer is, then it is fair enough that companies reappraise their use of him in their marketing. But nobody is suggesting that he shouldn't be allowed to play at the Master's or in the Ryder Cup.
Terry was chosen to be captain by the England manager, since he was reckoned to be the best man to lead England at this year's World Cup. Nothing revealed this past week changes any of that.
Walter Blotscher
Should England football captain John Terry be sacked from that position for shagging a woman who is not his wife? That is the question that seems to be overshadowing everything else in the U.K. at the moment.
No, in my view. Unless there is some sort of contractual commitment that we don't know about, being the leader on the football field does not demand marital fidelity. It is true that the woman in question was the girlfriend of a fellow member of the England squad, and had had his child. But they had already split up before Terry appeared on the scene. Justifying a sacking on the grounds of bringing peace to the dressing room seems to be more than overegging the pudding. Besides which, Terry is a much, much better player than Wayne Bridge will ever be. If one of them had to go, it wouldn't be Terry.
Tiger Woods had vast column inches of disapproval heaped all over him for doing similar things, and lost a lot of endorsements as a result. However, those endorsements were given - in part - because he represented an image of the squeaky-clean family man; and if he no longer is, then it is fair enough that companies reappraise their use of him in their marketing. But nobody is suggesting that he shouldn't be allowed to play at the Master's or in the Ryder Cup.
Terry was chosen to be captain by the England manager, since he was reckoned to be the best man to lead England at this year's World Cup. Nothing revealed this past week changes any of that.
Walter Blotscher
Wednesday 3 February 2010
THE IRAQ INQUIRY
Having watched live nearly all of Peter Goldsmith's, Tony Blair's and Claire Short's testimony to the Iraq Inquiry, I feel that a number of things are gradually becoming clearer. One surprising feature was that the Attorney General's performance - dry. legalistic, pedantic - was by far the most interesting. Riveting even. Tony Blair is still overly concerned about the judgement of history, and waffled on far too often about 2010 and the threat from Iran; while Claire Short used her acerbic tongue to try to score revenge points against the man she clearly believes betrayed both the country and her personally.
1. The legal basis for the U.K.'s participation in the war hung by an incredibly slender thread. As late as February 2003, when the AG went to Washington, his view - which endorsed that of the Foreign Office's legal advisers - was that a second UN resolution was necessary. The Americans persuaded him to change his mind; but the key part of that process was their assertion that in private conversations with the French, the French had supposedly agreed with the American interpretation of the first resolution. Needless to say, the AG never asked the French for their version of the conversations, or indeed whether the conversations really had taken place. That despite the fact that France's official explanation of its voting for the first resolution specifically said that it did not believe that the first resolution had given a mandate for military action.
2. The Cabinet finally got the AG's legal advice at the beginning of March, just before the war started, and when the troops were already out in Kuwait awaiting the off. To put it mildly, that was cutting it pretty fine. Yet in presenting that advice the AG never alluded to his earlier view, and exactly how he had come to change his mind. That strikes me, as it struck Claire Short, as being "economical with the truth".
3. Tony Blair really was driven by an "if the US go, then we'll go with you" attitude. He dressed his policy up in different clothes, and was careful not to present it - publicly - as such. But the chance for glory was, in his eyes, one too good to miss.
4. The post-invasion planning was hopeless. None of the key players gave much of a thought to what would happen afterwards; and those who did were ignored or marginalised. The decision by the U.K. to allow itself in UN Resolution 1483 to be designated an Occupying Power, thereby taking joint and several responsibility with the Americans for everything that happened everywhere in Iraq post-invasion, was ludicrous, given the derisory resources available to DFID for reconstruction.
5. Parts of the U.K. establishment still suffer from a Great Power, "punch above our weight" mentality. Nearly a century after it ceased to be true, we have still not really accepted that we are a medium-sized country on the edge of a continent declining in relative importance. If the debacle in Iraq hastens that acceptance process, then one good thing will have come out of what otherwise appears to have been a sorry mess.
Walter Blotscher
Having watched live nearly all of Peter Goldsmith's, Tony Blair's and Claire Short's testimony to the Iraq Inquiry, I feel that a number of things are gradually becoming clearer. One surprising feature was that the Attorney General's performance - dry. legalistic, pedantic - was by far the most interesting. Riveting even. Tony Blair is still overly concerned about the judgement of history, and waffled on far too often about 2010 and the threat from Iran; while Claire Short used her acerbic tongue to try to score revenge points against the man she clearly believes betrayed both the country and her personally.
1. The legal basis for the U.K.'s participation in the war hung by an incredibly slender thread. As late as February 2003, when the AG went to Washington, his view - which endorsed that of the Foreign Office's legal advisers - was that a second UN resolution was necessary. The Americans persuaded him to change his mind; but the key part of that process was their assertion that in private conversations with the French, the French had supposedly agreed with the American interpretation of the first resolution. Needless to say, the AG never asked the French for their version of the conversations, or indeed whether the conversations really had taken place. That despite the fact that France's official explanation of its voting for the first resolution specifically said that it did not believe that the first resolution had given a mandate for military action.
2. The Cabinet finally got the AG's legal advice at the beginning of March, just before the war started, and when the troops were already out in Kuwait awaiting the off. To put it mildly, that was cutting it pretty fine. Yet in presenting that advice the AG never alluded to his earlier view, and exactly how he had come to change his mind. That strikes me, as it struck Claire Short, as being "economical with the truth".
3. Tony Blair really was driven by an "if the US go, then we'll go with you" attitude. He dressed his policy up in different clothes, and was careful not to present it - publicly - as such. But the chance for glory was, in his eyes, one too good to miss.
4. The post-invasion planning was hopeless. None of the key players gave much of a thought to what would happen afterwards; and those who did were ignored or marginalised. The decision by the U.K. to allow itself in UN Resolution 1483 to be designated an Occupying Power, thereby taking joint and several responsibility with the Americans for everything that happened everywhere in Iraq post-invasion, was ludicrous, given the derisory resources available to DFID for reconstruction.
5. Parts of the U.K. establishment still suffer from a Great Power, "punch above our weight" mentality. Nearly a century after it ceased to be true, we have still not really accepted that we are a medium-sized country on the edge of a continent declining in relative importance. If the debacle in Iraq hastens that acceptance process, then one good thing will have come out of what otherwise appears to have been a sorry mess.
Walter Blotscher
Tuesday 2 February 2010
THEY DON'T MAKE 'EM LIKE THAT ANY MORE ....
I watched Butterfield 8 on TCM today. When so many modern films rely on "action", it was good to see one from 1960 that combined a story that made you think, plus quality acting.
Including a terrific performance from Elizabeth Taylor as the call-girl trying to achieve respectability. She was a real star in her younger days, beautiful and sexy, and a great actress when given the right part. Cleopatra was mainly guff. But Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and Butterfield 8 allowed her to shine.
Avatar will make a lot more money, and probably win more awards. Yet my 15-year old daughter saw it last night and said it was crap. A pity.
Walter Blotscher
I watched Butterfield 8 on TCM today. When so many modern films rely on "action", it was good to see one from 1960 that combined a story that made you think, plus quality acting.
Including a terrific performance from Elizabeth Taylor as the call-girl trying to achieve respectability. She was a real star in her younger days, beautiful and sexy, and a great actress when given the right part. Cleopatra was mainly guff. But Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and Butterfield 8 allowed her to shine.
Avatar will make a lot more money, and probably win more awards. Yet my 15-year old daughter saw it last night and said it was crap. A pity.
Walter Blotscher
Monday 1 February 2010
THE REBIRTH OF RELIGION
If you had said to me when I was 20 that religion would form a bigger part of public life in 2010 than it did in 1980, then I would have been sceptical, to say the least. I was a chorister when I was at prep school, and the trend away from anything spiritual except for baptism, marriage, death and Christmas seemed unstoppable. Yet here we are in the second decade of the 21st century, and religion seems to be everywhere.
I don't just mean in the headlines; the supposed justification for suicide bombs by Islamist fanatics, the muscular Christianity used by Tony Blair to support his decisions, Hindu pogroms in India, the expectancy of the second coming by American evangelists. It is seeping into daily life as well. One of the very first cases decided by the U.K.'s new Supreme Court (heard by a panel of 9 judges instead of the usual 5) was about the admissions policy of a Jewish school, which in turn depended on which children were, or were not, recognised as Jewish. That we are still debating such questions today, and are being forced to debate such questions, is surprising.
The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries saw in Europe terrible wars and bloodshed over differences in a religion that virtually everybody purported to share. There then followed more than three centuries of a gradual decline in the importance of religion and a corresponding increase in scientific enquiry and tolerance of others. That decline appears to have halted abruptly. Whatever one's faith, the consequences are both uncertain and worrying.
Walter Blotscher
If you had said to me when I was 20 that religion would form a bigger part of public life in 2010 than it did in 1980, then I would have been sceptical, to say the least. I was a chorister when I was at prep school, and the trend away from anything spiritual except for baptism, marriage, death and Christmas seemed unstoppable. Yet here we are in the second decade of the 21st century, and religion seems to be everywhere.
I don't just mean in the headlines; the supposed justification for suicide bombs by Islamist fanatics, the muscular Christianity used by Tony Blair to support his decisions, Hindu pogroms in India, the expectancy of the second coming by American evangelists. It is seeping into daily life as well. One of the very first cases decided by the U.K.'s new Supreme Court (heard by a panel of 9 judges instead of the usual 5) was about the admissions policy of a Jewish school, which in turn depended on which children were, or were not, recognised as Jewish. That we are still debating such questions today, and are being forced to debate such questions, is surprising.
The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries saw in Europe terrible wars and bloodshed over differences in a religion that virtually everybody purported to share. There then followed more than three centuries of a gradual decline in the importance of religion and a corresponding increase in scientific enquiry and tolerance of others. That decline appears to have halted abruptly. Whatever one's faith, the consequences are both uncertain and worrying.
Walter Blotscher
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