Double Direct Effect? The UK Supreme Court’s revisiting of the direct effect conditions in Dillon

 

 

Dr Eleni Frantziou, Associate Professor in Public Law and Human Rights, Durham Law School, and Dr Sylvia de Mars, Reader in Transnational Public Law, Newcastle Law School

 

Photo credit: Samuel Lennox, via Wikimedia Commons

 

Introduction

 

Is there anything left to say on the direct effect of EU law? Yes, according to the UK Supreme Court, which handed down its much-awaited judgment in Dillon et al on 7 May 2026. The UK reference above is not a typo: despite Brexit, aspects of the EU/UK Withdrawal Agreement (‘WA’) have direct effect under the conditions provided for in EU law, in line with Article 4 WA. In Dillon, the UK Supreme Court was asked to interpret whether one provision of this agreement – Article 2(1) of the Ireland/NI Protocol (‘Protocol’), which is itself a core part of the WA (Article 182 WA) – is directly effective and, if so, on what terms.

 

The case concerned the Legacy (Troubles and Reconciliation) Act 2023, which set out a broad range of immunities for serious crimes committed in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. The principal claimants were one direct victim and three relatives of victims killed in the conflict – a wife, mother and sister who, as O’Donoghue observes, were but minimally acknowledged by the UKSC. They challenged the immunities provisions of the Act under the ECHR and EU law.

 

In this post, we focus only on the EU law dimensions of the case and, particularly, on the question of direct effect. In our view, Dillon raises significant questions about the correct application of the direct effect conditions, the ultimate arbiter of which is the CJEU. In particular, we argue that the UKSC’s interpretation of direct effect in Dillon is inconsistent with EU law, because it creates an unprecedented requirement of ‘double direct effect’: it applies the direct effect conditions to both a provision of the Withdrawal Agreement/Protocol and to measures referenced in this provision.

 

Why was EU law still relevant in Dillon in 2026?

 

One of the most contentious aspects of the Withdrawal Agreement negotiations was the status of Northern Ireland. It is widely documented that EU membership was one of the principal catalysts for the Belfast/Good Friday Agreement (‘BGFA’) that officially marked the end of the Northern Ireland conflict known as ‘the Troubles’. As EU membership by both the UK and Ireland had ensured free movement between the Irish north and south, the creation of special arrangements that secured this after Brexit was a crucial aspect of the UK’s exit negotiations.

 

These special arrangements were embedded into the Ireland/NI Protocol (as of 2023 also known as the ‘Windsor Framework’ in the UK), which was appended to the Withdrawal Agreement as a core part of it dealing with a specific ‘withdrawal’ issue.  The Protocol provides for continued north/south cooperation, avoiding a hard border and protecting both trade and cross-border work. Importantly for the purposes of the Dillon case, the Protocol also notes in recital 7 of its Preamble that ‘Union law has provided a supporting framework for the provisions on Rights, Safeguards and Equality of Opportunity of the 1998 Agreement’ (‘RSEO’) and includes a specific non-regression guarantee with respect to this part of the BGFA. To this end, Article 2(1) of the Protocol provides:

 

The United Kingdom shall ensure that no diminution of rights, safeguards or equality of opportunity, as set out in that part of the Belfast/Good Friday Agreement entitled Rights, Safeguards and Equality of Opportunity results from its withdrawal from the Union, including in the area of protection against discrimination, as enshrined in the provisions of Union law listed in Annex 1 to this Protocol, and shall implement this paragraph through dedicated mechanisms.

 

It was this article of the Protocol that formed the basis of the EU law claim in Dillon. The claimants’ argument went as follows: since the UK had been subject to the Victims’ Rights Directive (‘VRD’) before Brexit and this had been implemented in NI through domestic measures, the immunities created by the Legacy Act reduced the level of protection of fundamental rights available during the UK’s membership of the EU, and were therefore in conflict with Article 2 of the NI Protocol. This claim was made possible by Article 4(1) WA, which states that the “Agreement shall produce in respect of and in the United Kingdom the same legal effects as those which they produce within the Union and its Member States” and the test for individuals to rely on a provision of the Withdrawal Agreement before domestic courts is that such a provision should “meet the conditions for direct effect under Union law.”

 

In line with the widely known Van Gend en Loos formula, a provision of EU law has direct effect if it confers rights to individuals that are clear, precise, and unconditional, rather than being subject to the adoption of further measures by either Member States or the EU.  The wording of Article 2(1) of the Protocol prima facie meets these conditions with ease. The right conferred by Article 2(1) is to not have ‘rights, safeguards or equality of opportunity’ as set out in the BGFA and in Annex 1 of the Protocol diminished. This paragraph contains a ‘textbook’ negative obligation. It requires no further measures at all – the UK simply needs to refrain from introducing new measures that reduce the level of protection of EU fundamental rights as it stood on 31 December 2020.

 

The claimants consequently argued that, since Article 4 WA also provides for the Agreement to have primacy and, at paragraph 2, requires that domestic courts be capable of disapplying incompatible provisions, the immunity provisions of the Legacy Act had to be disapplied. Two courts in Northern Ireland had found for the claimants, disapplying the offending provisions – but the government challenged this on appeal to the UKSC. It argued that if Article 2 was to have direct effect, it could only do so by reference to obligations that were themselves clear, precise and unconditional.

 

The Supreme Court sided with the government. It found that Article 2 could not always have direct effect, but only under certain circumstances, namely when the measures cross-referenced in Article 2 were themselves directly effective.  It is worth setting out its reasoning in some detail.

 

The UKSC commences, at paragraph 112, by citing the so-called Demirel test.  Demirel is one of the early cases in which the CJEU considered whether provisions in bilateral agreements signed by the EU could have direct effect; and it found at paragraph 14 that:

 

…a provision in an agreement concluded by the European Union with a non-member country must be regarded as being directly applicable when, regard being had to its wording and to the purpose and nature of the agreement, the provision contains a clear and precise obligation which is not subject, in

its implementation or effects, to the adoption of any subsequent measure... (emphasis added)

 

So far, so good.  While, as we discuss further below, the treatment of the Withdrawal Agreement (or Protocol) as part of ordinary EU external relations law is questionable, this does reflect the commonly used test for evaluating the direct effect of bilateral agreements involving the EU.

 

However, the UKSC proceeds with the following statement in paragraph 113:

 

The obligation imposed on the United Kingdom by article 2(1) of the Windsor

Framework relates to rights, safeguards or equality of opportunity “as set out in” the RSEO chapter. It is therefore necessary to consider whether, having regard to the wording and to the purpose and nature of the RSEO chapter and of article 2(1) of the Windsor Framework, those provisions read together impose a clear and precise obligation which satisfies the test for direct effect.

 

In our view, the words “therefore necessary” make a huge argumentative leap, hitherto unseen in any EU law treatment of direct effect. In this single short paragraph, the CJEU takes the Demirel test but applies it simultaneously to the Withdrawal Agreement and its provisions and the BGFA’s RSEO chapter’s provisions. In other words, the UKSC reasons that Article 2 of the Protocol cannot have direct effect as such: for it to be directly effective, anything it references must also be directly effective.  This leads to its even more confounding finding, which is – ultimately – that Article 2 of the Protocol sometimes has direct effect – but at other times it does not. This is because, according to the UKSC, it is impossible to identify a clear and precise obligation without reference to the RSEO chapter. As the UKSC puts it at paragraph 116, “[i]t is only in this way that the obligation not to diminish rights, safeguards or equality of opportunity acquires any content.”

 

This aspect of the ruling – which we dub ‘double direct effect’ –presents a deep challenge to settled understandings of the direct effect of EU law.

 

The fallacy of the UKSC’s direct effect

 

The UKSC’s ruling does not question the possibility of Article 2 of the Protocol to have direct effect, nor does it challenge the terms of direct effect. According to the Court, as per paragraph 112, the relevant conditions are the conditions set out in EU law. But the choice of EU law is already telling of the ruling’s direction and tone: rather than going straight for the Van Gend en Loos conditions, the Court refers to the Demirel test on the direct effect of international agreements.

 

While this choice is defensible to a degree as the WA is, after all, a bilateral agreement, the confidence with which the UKSC resorts to it is puzzling. Unlike association agreements, such as the one between the EU and Turkey at stake in Demirel, or even the UK/EU Trade and Cooperation Agreement, EU competence for which resides in external relations law (Article 217 TFEU), the Withdrawal Agreement is a very specific type of agreement. The competence to conclude it is found in the constitutional part of the Treaty on European Union – Article 50 TEU – and it is Article 50 (2) that sets out that the terms of withdrawal are to be negotiated in accordance with Article 218(3) TFEU. The Withdrawal Agreement is thus a category in its own right: it is not about a third state negotiating the terms of its association with the EU, however deep, but about a Member State negotiating its departure from the bloc in line with its own constitutional requirements, as set out in Article 50 TEU.  The exceptionality of the Withdrawal Agreement has been raised indirectly in litigation before the CJEU and, albeit that the Court has not had specific occasion to address what this means for direct effect, it has emphasised the significance of Article 50 TEU as the essential legal context for analysing the provisions of the Withdrawal Agreement (see, e.g., Préfet du Gers I, para 54). 

 

But even if we were to accept that the Withdrawal Agreement should be treated just like any other bilateral treaty, its own terms make its ‘intention’ clear, given the express wording of Article 4 WA on the application of the direct effect conditions – a very unusual stipulation that, to our mind, would not go unnoticed by the CJEU. In fact, as Gallo and Labus note, specific exclusions of direct effect are the norm in the external relations context, as is indeed the case for the TCA, Article 5 of which preclude direct reliance by individuals on its provisions. The choice of the Demirel conditions is, therefore, significant for at least two reasons: first, it is important symbolically. The UKSC makes a choice to treat the Withdrawal Agreement as one of many international agreements the UK has signed. This automatically limits any perceived onus on its part to read the ‘purpose and nature’ of the Withdrawal Agreement or the Protocol as resulting in different obligations than other international law. Second, the reliance on the Demirel test and its focus on not only the precision and unconditionality of the relevant provisions, but also the ‘purpose and nature’ of the agreement, enables the UKSC’s further findings about Article 2(1) WA. For, as already highlighted above, rather than treating ‘purpose and nature’ as pertaining to the Withdrawal Agreement and its provisions, the UKSC understands this test as applying to the RSEO section of the BGFA.

 

The ‘purpose and nature’ of the BGFA is summarised in paragraph 119 as “establishing peace in Northern Ireland after decades of sectarianism and civil conflict”. This reference appears to preclude a reading of the BGFA as aiming to secure cross-community equality in a broader sense, which makes reliance on Article 2 for the purposes of ensuring the non-diminution of EU fundamental rights altogether less likely. It will be far more difficult to link provisions in the RSEO chapter to EU law if it is essential to prove that their purpose and nature was ‘establishing peace’. This focus on the Demirel condition of the nature and purpose of the agreement thus appears to negate, at least to an extent, the practical relevance of Article 2 as a non-regression clause. Rather than protecting the ‘supporting framework’ of fundamental rights that membership of the EU meant for the peace process in tune with the Protocol’s Preamble, the interpretation could prove to be much narrower– a possibility that remains to be fleshed out further in subsequent case law.

 

Beyond the type of direct effect it chooses, though, the UKSC also commits, in our view, a fundamental, substantive error of EU law in its application of the direct effect conditions. This error rests on the finding that Article 2(1) is a provision that could sometimes, but not always, have direct effect – depending on what else it references. This position does not withstand scrutiny from the perspective of EU law. 

 

It is trite EU law, including under Demirel, that the direct effect conditions refer to ‘a provision’. Leaving the categorical exclusion of certain forms of direct effect for certain instruments (eg, the horizontal direct effect of directives), the CJEU has never held that a provision can both have and lack direct effect. The test is a clear binary: the provision either meets the conditions and it is directly effective or it does not, and it is not.

 

In this sense, it may have been more coherent for the UKSC to state that Article 2 is not directly effective at all. That, however, would have created the problem that some of the EU law explicitly referred to in the provision (the Equality directives) are par excellence directly effective obligations. Finding that Article 2(1) lacks direct effect altogether would have created a procedurally awkward situation, whereby the Annex to the Protocol has direct effect and supremacy in accordance with Article 4(1) WA, but its ‘activating’ provision does not. It was also clear that the provision was thought to have direct effect when negotiated and the UK government did not challenge the right of individuals to invoke it with respect to the annexed Directives; while the UKSC made it clear that UK government interpretations of its own commitments made when concluding the WA were of no help in determining of Art 2 of the Protocol was directly effective (see paragraphs 123-124 of the judgment), it seems to have wanted to avoid making the existence of that Annex 1 and, indeed, Article 2 itself wholly pointless from a litigation perspective. Hence, the UKSC resorts to a half-way house: if the provisions against which non-diminution is sought are themselves directly effective, then Article 2 can be invoked before domestic courts. If they are not, it cannot. Much like Schrödinger’s cat, then, direct effect is simultaneously alive and dead – it all depends on what Article 2 is referencing. 

 

This reasoning in our view misunderstands (though it does not reference) CJEU case law on the direct effect of provisions that also refer to other provisions, as well as the nature of the direct effect conditions as interpreted in EU law, more generally. For example, Charter provisions regularly give ‘specific expression’ to non-directly effective measures of directives (see, eg, the Grand Chamber rulings in Egenberger, Braathens,  KL v X). Unlike the approach espoused by the UKSC, it is not the non-directly effective measures detailing the core obligation that suddenly acquire direct effect. Rather, the presence of a directly effective measure, such as Art 47 CFR, makes the more specific obligations listed in the directives invocable in court, where they otherwise would not be. The core obligation is directly effective regardless of what it cross-references. The CJEU makes this very clear in Egenberger:

 

78. [L]ike Article 21 of the Charter, Article 47 of the Charter on the right to effective judicial protection is sufficient in itself and does not need to be made more specific by provisions of EU or national law to confer on individuals a right which they may rely on as such [emphasis added].

 

In other words: it is the more general provision of primary law – Article 47 of the Charter – that gives rise to a clear, precise and unconditional obligation. This does not require a cross-reference to a separate provision that is also directly effective in order to be relied upon. Rather, the only effect of the directives in the above cases is to show that the scope of EU law – and hence the relevant provision of the Charter – was engaged.

 

We found similar reasoning in CJEU judgments that involve international agreements, where the cross-referencing to Annexes and Protocols is very common. In Sevince, for instance, concerning the EEC-Turkey Association Agreement, the CJEU found in paragraph 22 that provisions in several decisions adopted under this association agreement had direct effect – and that this

 

cannot be affected by the fact that [other provisions] provide that the procedures for applying the rights conferred onto Turkish workers are to be established under national rules. Those provisions merely clarify the obligation of the Member States to take such administrative measures as may be necessary for the implementation of those provisions, without empowering the Member States to make conditional or restrict the application of the precise and unconditional right which the decisions of the Council of Association grant to Turkish workers. (emphasis added) 

 

The analogy is, in our view, powerful: similarly to Article 2, this case concerned a standstill obligation that no further obstacles to the free movement of workers be imposed. Moreover, like Article 2, there was an expectation that national procedures would be introduced to ensure the effectiveness of this core obligation. The CJEU clearly distinguished this procedural conditionality from the primary negative duty. 

 

The idea that the ‘referred-to’ provisions do not themselves have to be directly effective for a primary provision to be directly effective is also expressly confirmed in the 2022 ruling in Deutsche Umwelthilfe, which concerned standing requirements in the implementation of the Aarhus Convention. The CJEU’s reasoning is worth citing in some detail:

 

66. [W]hile it is true that Article 9(3) of the Aarhus Convention does not have direct effect in EU law and cannot, therefore, be relied on, as such, in a dispute falling within the scope of EU law, in order to disapply a provision of national law which is contrary to it, the fact remains that, first, the primacy of international agreements concluded by the European Union requires that national law be interpreted, to the fullest extent possible, in accordance with the requirements of those agreements and, secondly, that Article 9(3) of the Aarhus Convention, read in conjunction with Article 47 of the Charter, imposes on Member States an obligation to ensure effective judicial protection of the rights conferred by EU law, in particular the provisions of environmental law...

          …

78. … the discretion conferred on the Member States to lay down rules governing the right to bring proceedings, referred to in [Article 9(3) of the Aarhus Convention], does not affect their obligation to ensure a right to an effective remedy enshrined in Article 47 of the Charter, as, moreover, also alluded to in Article 9(4) of the Aarhus Convention. Article 47 of the Charter is sufficient in itself and does not need to be made more specific by provisions of EU or national law in order to confer on individuals a right which they may rely on as such … Thus, that article may be relied on as a limit on the discretion left to the Member States under Article 9(3) of the Aarhus Convention.

 

This case is also analogous to what the UKSC had to consider in Dillon: a primary provision that set out a clear, precise and unconditional right (Article 47 of the Charter) – and further provisions, covering more specific situations in which such a right might apply, which are not directly effective (in Article 9(3) of the Aarhus Convention).  The CJEU had every opportunity to set out that both Article 9(3) of the Aarhus Convention and Article 47 of the Charter had to be directly effective, but did not do so – instead, it stressed that Article 47 sets out framework conditions for how a conditional, imprecise referred provision had to function.  This is in our view similar to the function that Article 2 of the Protocol carries out: it sets out the conditions that apply once the RSEO and Annex 1 directives need to be considered, in the form of setting a non-diminution test.

 

Finally, the UKSC’s understanding of the core negative obligation in Article 2 as vacuous without a contemporaneous assessment of the RSEO sets too high a threshold for clarity and precision. If this was how its reasoning worked, the CJEU would have denied the direct effect of most provisions of EU primary law. To take one iconic example, it clearly would have declined to accept the direct effect of Article 157 TFEU in Defrenne back in 1976; as Daniele Gallo puts it, “[t]he contents of the obligation of [what is now Article 157 TFEU] were considered sufficiently clear, to the extent that the Member States must ensure ‘the application of the principle that men and women should receive equal pay for equal work’, despite … that there was, at the time, relative uncertainty about the concept of ‘equal work’ as well as that of ‘work of equal value’.  (Gallo, OUP 2025, 83).

 

To summarise, the RSEO determines the scope of Article 2 and it is squarely for the Supreme Court to interpret what this means. As noted above, there may be disagreement about how narrowly the ambit of the RSEO was drawn in this ruling – disagreement which can be further discussed in the Specialised Committee on the Windsor Framework. Such disagreement, however, would concern the substantive question of diminution (i.e., was there a relevant RSEO right that has now been diminished?) – and not the relevant test for direct effect. As a matter of the direct effect conditions, there can be little doubt, based on CJEU authority on direct effect, that Article 2 can be invoked before domestic court. In turn, if disagreement arises about the direct effect conditions, the correct interpretation must be determined by the CJEU – a point to which we now turn, in concluding.

 

Is this the final word on the direct effect of Article 2 NIP?

 

Assuming that our analysis is correct, and that the application of the direct effect conditions in Dillon is inaccurate, can anything be done about it? The UKSC was not entitled to make a reference to the CJEU on the matter of direct effect, as this is not provided for under this part of the Protocol. While references are possible with regard to a limited number of other provisions, primarily relating to trade, they are not provided for in the context of the non-diminution guarantee. It is to be hoped, however, that the Joint Committee overseeing the WA will discuss these issues in its upcoming meeting, particularly given the significance of the direct effect question for ongoing litigation on Article 2 at lower levels and, more generally, for the very ability of the Dedicated Mechanism set up under the Protocol to contribute to the enforcement of the non-diminution guarantee through litigation.

 

Arguably, regardless of the outcome of the political discussion, a question should now be put to the CJEU about the correct application of the direct effect criteria by agreement of the parties. The Dillon case demonstrates the technical difficulties associated with ongoing Brexit litigation that involves EU law concepts without the possibility of interpretive clarity through the preliminary reference structure, and it is in nobody’s interest for different versions of a 60 year old test to apply in the EU itself and its closest trading partner. Ultimately, though, if no agreement is reached about what the correct interpretation of the direct effect conditions is in the context of Article 2 within the Joint Committee, an arbitration panel may be appointed to determine the issue. Its decision will be binding on both parties. Crucially, the arbitration panel would be required to make a reference to the CJEU to determine any issues of EU law before it reaches its decision. Undoubtedly, the concept of direct effect would be such an issue.

 

 

 

 

Allister: the effect of the EU Withdrawal Act

 

Anurag Deb, PhD researcher, Queen's University

Photo credit: Dom0803, via Wikimedia Commons 

In the uncertain aftermath of the Brexit referendum and shortly after Theresa May had succeeded David Cameron as Prime Minister, she had announced her intention to move a ‘Great Repeal Bill’ to undo what Lord Denning had once described as the ‘incoming tide’ of EU law. That Great Repeal Bill became the EU Withdrawal Act 2018, amended in 2020 by the EU Withdrawal Agreement Act 2020. But did this stop the incoming tide? Not particularly – there are post-exit arrangements baked into the 2018 Act in order to provide certainty to, for example, people who have cases reliant on EU law progressing through the courts at the point of exit, so that their cases are not extinguished overnight.

 

However, savings provisions to ensure legal certainty are fairly common in legislation. What is somewhat more uncommon is for the legislation designed to achieve one purpose to be amended almost two years later to partially (and significantly) achieve its opposite purpose. This is a post which looks at the effect of section 7A of the 2018 Act, inserted by the 2020 Act, and what the Supreme Court said about it in Allister and Peeples’ applications for judicial review.

 

Section 7A: the reopened gateway

 

Section 7A adopts much of the same language as the now-repealed section 2(1) of the European Communities Act 1972 – the very same provision which Denning MR described as governing the ‘incoming tide’ of EU law. This tide does little for most of UK law, however, given that the Withdrawal Agreement, which section 7A incorporates, generally provides for the severance of the UK from the EU legal order. But this is not true of Northern Ireland, which is addressed by its own Protocol.

 

The content of the Protocol varies widely, but its major function is the continued application in Northern Ireland of aspects of the EU Single Market in goods as well as its customs code. There are additional guarantees regarding equality and non-discrimination, which link with the Good Friday Agreement. The detail of this is covered by Colin Murray in his post on Allister and Peeples, and I will not be covering it here. Nor will I cover the well-trodden discussion of the constitutional statutes doctrine, in light of the judgment. Some have discussed its demise (Murray, David Allen Green and John Bell) while others have defended its continuing health (Oliver Garner and myself). Instead, I will be covering a single paragraph of the Supreme Court judgment – a single paragraph which contains significant possibilities.

 

The gateway through which the Withdrawal Agreement (and the Protocol) enters domestic UK law is section 7A. In addition to incorporating the Withdrawal Agreement, section 7A also gives effect specifically to two highly important aspects of the Withdrawal Agreement. The first aspect is direct effect (Withdrawal Agreement, Article 4(1); section 7A(1) and (2) of the 2018 Act), by which people may directly rely on the provisions contained in or referred to in the Withdrawal Agreement. The second aspect is to subject every enactment (including the 2018 Act itself) to the provisions of the Withdrawal Agreement (Withdrawal Agreement, Article 4(2); section 7A(3) of the 2018 Act). This trifecta of consequences was used to great effect by the Supreme Court when faced with a particular conundrum.

 

The modification of the Northern Ireland Act

 

The Northern Ireland Act 1998 is the primary legislation governing modern devolution in Northern Ireland. The relevant part of the statute for this post is section 42, which creates a powerful legislative mechanism unique in the UK’s legislatures. This mechanism, the petition of concern, is a petition which can be moved by as few as one-third of MLAs and if so moved, triggers a requirement for cross-community support in respect of the matter against which the petition was moved. Cross-community support is significantly more difficult to achieve than a simple majority, especially in a legislative body which can at times be highly polarised. But section 42 was originally applicable to any matter on which the Assembly was to vote. This was amended in 2022, and I have covered the circumstances of that amendment elsewhere.

 

The important point, however, is that section 42 remained applicable to any Assembly vote at the time that the Protocol was incorporated. Almost a year after this incorporation, the Northern Ireland Secretary made new regulations with sweeping consequences. These regulations were made to provide for the so-called ‘Stormont consent vote’, by which the Northern Ireland Assembly votes periodically on the question whether or not to continue the application of EU law on goods and customs. The provision of this vote was required by Article 18 of the Protocol as well as the UK Government’s unilateral declaration on providing the vote, neither of which mentioned section 42 or the petition of concern mechanism. Now, these regulations disapplied section 42 to the consent vote. The appellants in Allister and Peeples challenged this disapplication as being in breach of the Northern Ireland Act, which was prohibited by section 10 of the 2018 Act. Thus, the appellants said, the regulations were unlawful.

 

The Supreme Court resolved this issue in paragraph 108 of its judgment. While the paragraph is lengthy, it essentially says that there was no breach of section 10 of the 2018 Act because section 7A had already modified section 42 of the Northern Ireland Act. This had occurred because Article 18 had created an obligation on the UK Government to provide for the consent vote ‘strictly in accordance’ with the terms of the unilateral declaration, which, together with Article 18, both provide for a decision based on a majority of MLAs. Section 42 would subject this to the requirement of cross-community consent. Therefore, because of the overriding nature of section 7A, the obligation created by Article 18 and the unilateral declaration modified section 42. The regulations, as a result, did not breach the Northern Ireland Act.

 

The Supreme Court’s reasoning is considerably different from that of the Court of Appeal and the High Court on this point, both of which zeroed in on the breadth of the powers of delegated legislation conferred on the Northern Ireland Secretary under section 8C of the 2018 as a complete answer to this issue. Both courts reasoned that the regulations, having been made under section 8C and in accordance with the conditions attached to that power under the 2018 Act, were made lawfully – independent of the question whether section 7A had already modified the Northern Ireland Act before the making of the regulations.

 

The implications

 

The Supreme Court’s reasoning is far from obvious when scrutinising the content of section 42 (as it originally existed), Article 18 and the unilateral declaration. First, section 42 is a conditional provision – it needs a minimum threshold of MLAs to be triggered. While it was possible to trigger section 42 in any matter on which the Assembly voted, possibility does not equate to a guarantee. In other words, section 42 would not automatically have subjected a consent vote to the requirement of cross-community support unless the 30-MLA threshold was triggered. Moreover, both Article 18 and the unilateral declaration contain the possibility of a decision to continue the application of EU law made with cross-community support (which triggers a longer waiting period before the next consent vote) – a matter the Supreme Court curiously omits to mention.

 

So, how can paragraph 108 be interpreted? Accepting the Court’s judgment as correct (which should be obvious given that no appeal is possible from a judgment of the Supreme Court) raises an interesting point. Section 7A incorporates some EU law, but through the Withdrawal Agreement (and Protocol). The Withdrawal Agreement is not a passive vehicle in this incorporation, but creates rights and obligations distinct from the EU law in respect of which it also creates obligations. After all, the consent vote is a creation, not of EU law, but of the Protocol. Thus, not only does section 7A modify domestic law in consequence of aspects of EU law, but also in consequence of the Withdrawal Agreement as a distinct source of law by itself. Moreover, as nowhere in either Article 18 or the unilateral declaration was there any explicit obligation to disapply section 42, it follows that section 7A modified domestic law by necessary implication of giving effect to the Withdrawal Agreement and the Protocol.

 

I return briefly to Denning MR’s analogy, with the incorporated EU law as an incoming tide. Incoming tides raise water levels, but they can also change the appearance of coastal areas over time. This is a possible reading of the Supreme Court’s reasoning – that section 7A brings in both EU law and Withdrawal Agreement law and modifies the domestic legal order around these sources of law – both by giving primacy to the explicit provisions of these sources and as a necessary consequence of their incorporation.

 

What this means for the future of the Protocol’s operation in Northern Ireland is difficult to tell precisely. But what is reasonably certain is that a single paragraph of the Supreme Court’s judgment contains a disproportionately vast potential.

Maybe we Like the Misery: The Culmination of the Northern Ireland Protocol Litigation

 

Colin Murray, Professor of Law, University of Newcastle

Photo credit: ChrisVTG photography, via Wikicommons media

 

In October 2019 Boris Johnson’s Government concluded a Withdrawal Agreement with the EU which included a version of the Northern Ireland Protocol based on high alignment for rules applicable to goods between Northern Ireland and EU law. No comparable arrangements covered goods rules for Great Britain. In January 2020, Westminster enacted legislation to give effect to this deal. At this point, with the Trade and Cooperation Agreement still to be negotiated, the UK Government could have made a concerted effort to conclude a high alignment deal with the EU, in particular in areas like plant and animal products (covered by extensive SPS rules). Instead, it concluded an Agreement focused on avoiding tariffs or quotas which would generate substantial regulatory barriers to trade in goods, including between Great Britain and Northern Ireland, as soon as the Brexit transition/implementation period ended.

 

Knowing this crunch point was coming, it negotiated grace periods of a few months to let traders adapt to the new regime. Unsurprisingly, this arrangement brought with it major upheavals with potentially severe impacts for the small and peripheral economy of Northern Ireland. Two routes lay open to the UK Government. Further cooperation with the EU through the Withdrawal Agreement’s technocratic mechanisms (especially the Specialised Committee on the Protocol, feeding into the Withdrawal Agreement’s overall Joint Committee) to mitigate the impacts of the Protocol, or confrontation and an attempt to re-write the Protocol’s terms. In the two years that have followed, there has been a lot of the latter and very little of the former, with the oft-stated reason being the UK Government’s belated acknowledgement that Unionist sentiment in Northern Ireland was opposed to the Protocol’s terms.

 

At the heart of Unionist concerns over the Protocol is the ideas that it treats Northern Ireland so differently from Great Britain in terms of goods that it weakens its place within the United Kingdom. There are a number of strands to this argument; that parts of the Act of Union are impacted by the operation of the Protocol, that there is no cross-community consent to its operation, in breach of the Belfast/Good Friday Agreement of 1998, and that Northern Ireland is left subject to EU laws over which it has no say. All of these complaints were bundled together into the Allister litigation. This challenge has been rebuffed by the High Court and the Court of Appeal, but has been sustained in the hope that something different would come to pass in the Supreme Court. It has left the UK Government playing two tunes; brandishing Unionist concerns as the mainstay of its efforts to have the implementation of the Protocol reworked, but resisting them in the courts.

 

This is was always the high-stakes nature of the legal challenge. The constitutional concerns over the Protocol might have considerable rhetorical pull with Unionist voters. But as soon as a court is asked for final determination on these questions, politicians can find the rug pulled from under their feet. And now that the UK Supreme Court has rejected the Allister challenge, that outcome matters. It will be raised every time Unionists attempt to question the Protocol’s compatibility with Northern Ireland’s status as part of the UK.

 

In meeting that challenge, the Supreme Court responded with the deadest of dead bats. There would be no rolling debate over the nature of the UK Constitutional order across multiple judgments, or even a special enlarged panel for the hearing (which might have been expected given the issues at stake). This judgment is no Jackson or Miller. Instead, Lord Stephens, Northern Irelands’ judge on the Court, issued a judgment with which the other four justices simply agreed, and largely said “I agree with what the Northern Ireland Court of Appeal said”. It is a marker of just how fraught the debate around Brexit and Northern Ireland has become that the issues around interpreting statutes with significant constitutional statutes can be reduced to the following statement (at [66]):

 

The debate as to whether article VI created fundamental rights in relation to trade, whether the Acts of Union are statutes of a constitutional character, whether the 2018 and 2020 Acts are also statutes of a constitutional character, and as to the correct interpretative approach when considering such statutes or any fundamental rights, is academic.

 

This is none-too-subtle code for the Court actively avoiding engaging in such debates in these circumstances. Whereas the lower court judgments contain important analysis of just what we should make of Northern Ireland’s legal order after Brexit, Lord Stephen’s wraps up the issue of the conflict between constitutional statutes remarkably quickly (also at [66]):

 

Even if it is engaged in this case, the interpretative presumption that Parliament does not intend to violate fundamental rights cannot override the clearly expressed will of Parliament. Furthermore, the suspension, subjugation, or modification of rights contained in an earlier statute may be effected by express words in a later statute. The most fundamental rule of UK constitutional law is that Parliament, or more precisely the Crown in Parliament, is sovereign and that legislation enacted by Parliament is supreme.

 

Thus, for as long as the Protocol applies, the will of Parliament is that Article VI of the Act of Union should operate in a modified way. This amounts to a rolling back, even if not fully discussed, of the potential of the “constitutional statutes” doctrine as articulated in cases like Thoburn. There is no need for Parliament to expressly acknowledge that its new legislation will affect constitutionally significant statutes, and it is able to do so in the most general of terms, provided that the impact is clear. And no one, least of all the appellants, can reasonable claim that the impact of the Northern Ireland Protocol came as a surprise, when they were campaigning against it vociferously at the time the 2020 Act was enacted. The current Supreme Court continues its opposition to any legal doctrine which it sees as a constraint upon the will of Parliament. Dicey would be thrilled.

 

Adopting some of the language favoured by the appellants, Lord Stephens concludes (at [68]) that ‘the subjugation of article VI is not complete but rather article VI is modified in part. Furthermore, the subjugation is not for all time as the Protocol is not final or rigid so that those parts which are modified are in effect suspended.’ But make no mistake that the Court is saying that this outcome was not, in short, the malign work of some foreign power, but the result of an Agreement willingly concluded by the UK Government and ratified by Westminster. The input of Parliament into the process was all important in this account.

 

The Allister litigation was therefore tilting at windmills, with the Supreme Court never going to conclude that the Act of Union was somehow substantively entrenched, in the face of the working of parliamentary sovereignty within the UK Constitution. The Court is, here, giving itself the maximum possible wiggle room in light of the delicate state of the Protocol. If the present Parliament wants to enact the Northern Ireland Protocol Bill, and fail to give full effect to the UK’s commitments in the Withdrawal Agreement, the Court is signalling that it would be unwilling to stand in the way. But the judgment also reflects the reality that the Protocol’s operation might well be modified as a result of the UK Government’s ongoing talks with the EU, and that any such outcome is not the basis of a constitutional dispute.

 

The other operative elements of the judgment are even more curt. Lord Stephens simply repeats paragraph 135 of Miller; the principle of consent under the 1998 Agreement relates to Northern Ireland’s status as part of the UK; it has no ‘wider meaning’ (at [84]). And as for the modification of proceedings in the Northern Ireland Assembly and the absence of a cross-community consent vote around the continuation of the Protocol’s trade terms, there was no deep evaluation of the limits to cross-community consent under the 1998 Agreement. Parliament had provided the necessary power to give effect to these arrangements in section 5 of the European Union (Withdrawal Agreement) Act 2020, and that was good enough for the Supreme Court (at [108]).

 

For all of the attention devoted to Allister, perhaps the more significant recent decision is that of the Northern Ireland High Court in Rooney. Here, the Court found that efforts by the DUP’s Minister for Agriculture, Edwin Poots, to prevent the imposition of any new checks, required by the Official Controls Regulation (built into the Protocol, because Northern Ireland was now the boundary point for the EU Single Market for goods), on goods movements from Great Britain to Northern Ireland to be unlawful.  

 

The Minister, and his department within the Northern Ireland Executive, was subject to a statutory obligation under section 7A of the European Union (Withdrawal) Act 2018 to implement the checks on goods required by the Protocol.  As Colton J bluntly asserted, at [179]: ‘the UK is not to be treated as a unitary state for the purposes of OCR checks coming from GB into NI. This textual analysis is entirely consistent with the purpose, intention and objective of the Protocol itself’. This decision is the product of Allister (indeed, the Northern Ireland Court of Appeal’s reasoning in Allister, which the Supreme Court affirms, is quoted extensively in the decision). This marks the reality of parliamentary sovereignty as recognised in Allister. The UK’s own internal market can be abridged by special arrangements put in place for Northern Ireland where Parliament has accepted this state of affairs. And the courts are clear that this is what happened in 2020.

 

In the aftermath of the Rooney judgment, the UK Government laid down Regulations to authorise the infrastructure necessary to fulfil the OCR commitments, providing an opportunity to build trust amid the ongoing talks over the Protocol. We appear to stand on the cusp of a deal being agreed over the mitigation of the Protocol’s terms. Under the leaked details, a differentiated approach for checks on goods bound from Great Britain to Northern Ireland (as opposed to those moving on to Ireland, and with it the wider EU Single Market) will allow goods regulations to be altered in Great Britain without increasing barriers to trade across the Irish Sea. It will remain a counter-factual scenario whether substantially the same terms could have been reached through the Withdrawal Agreement’s Committee processes. Instead, the same high-tension approach that has characterised the whole Brexit process has carried on into the spat over the Protocol’s implementation, with disastrous consequences for the workability of power-sharing in Northern Ireland.  Maybe we just like the misery. For all the emphasis on brinkmanship, however, this progress has only been made after the UK fulfilled data sharing commitments on goods movements across the Irish sea which were the logical precondition of a more risk-based approach to managing the Protocol’s trade arrangements. Other courts are being left to operate Northern Ireland’s new arrangements in ways that the desiccated reasoning in Allister only hints at.

 

But perhaps this is where the real significance of the Allister decision comes in. Having spent two years whipping up Unionist concerns over the Protocol’s impact on the 1998 Agreement to aid its Protocol stand off with the EU, the UK Government can use the handily-timed judgment to face down any Unionist concerns about the deal. In the weeks ahead we are certain to hear that the Protocol is, and always has been, entirely compatible with the constitutional order. And all that will be left is the impression that Conservative ministers are taking advantage of the Allister litigants. None of which, of course, is likely to make the restoration of power sharing any more likely in the near future, which is very much the collateral damage of this mode of EU-UK relations. Just before the case was decided, the Northern Ireland Office snuck out the news that the Secretary of State would not be calling fresh Assembly elections and that the current form of quasi-Direct Rule would be continued. Whether they like the peculiar misery of dysfunctional governance or not, the people of Northern Ireland would appear to be stuck with it.  

 

Data protection, the death penalty and mutual legal assistance in criminal law: Elgizouli v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2020] UKSC 10

Lorna Woods, Professor of Internet Law, University of Essex

Introduction

Elgizouli is the first UK Supreme Court judgment on the Data Protection Act 2018 (DPA).  The headline news is that ‘substantial compliance’ with the requirements set down in the Act is insufficient to make data transfers to third countries lawful. The judgment concerns Part Three, which implements the Law Enforcement Directive (Directive (EU) 2016/680) and focusses on procedural protections, but in terms of approach may have implications for the UK courts’ approach to the DPA and General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) more generally, especially as it relates to the protection of individual rights found in the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR).

Facts

Eligizouli’s son was implicated in the murder in Syria of UK and UK citizens. As part of its investigations into the group responsible for the murders, the US made a mutual legal assistance (MLA) request to the UK, asking for information to be transferred. Theresa May, as Home Secretary, requested that the information would not be used either directly or indirectly in a prosecution that could lead to the imposition of the death penalty, an assurance the US did not give. Nonetheless, Sajid Javid, a subsequent Home Secretary, agreed to provide the information.

Eligizouli brought an action for judicial review, raising two questions: (1) whether the common law precluded the Secretary of State from exercising his or her powers in this way; and (2) whether such a transfer was lawful under the DPA understood in the light of EU law.  Specifically, the appellant argued that the Home Secretary’s decision was an unlawful breach of:

1)      the first data protection principle in section 35 of the Act;

2)      the second data protection principle in section 36;

3)      the provisions governing international transfers of personal data for law enforcement purposes in sections 73 to 76; and

4)      the special processing restrictions in section 80.

It was further argued that the Home Secretary had paid no regard to the duties imposed on him by the DPA. At first instance, the Divisional Court had held that the Home Secretary had demonstrated “substantial compliance” with the Act and that “special circumstances” could be relied on in relation to the transfer.

Judgment

The Supreme Court (by a majority) found that the common law had not evolved to a point where it recognised a principle prohibiting the provision of MLA that would facilitate the death penalty.  The Court was, however, unanimous in holding that the Home Secretary’s decision was unlawful under the DPA, specifically as regards the conditions under which data can be transferred to another jurisdiction and the leading judgment was given by Lord Kerr (although he was in  the minority on the common law point). Lady Hale’s judgment constitutes, in her words, a ‘short guide to the judgments’ [2].

There was agreement between all parties that Part 3 was in issue – that is, that there would be processing of personal data for a “law enforcement purpose” by a controller which is also a “competent authority” for the purposes of the Part 3 of the DPA.  It was also common ground that the Home Secretary did not expressly consider his duties under the DPA.

The main focus of the judgment was the conditions surrounding the transfer of the data to the US; the relevant provisions are found in ss. 73-76. Specifically, data cannot be transferred unless the three conditions in s 73(1)(a) are met. The first, in s. 73(2), is that “the transfer is necessary for any of the law enforcement purposes”. Section 73(3) contains the second condition. It lists three circumstances in which a transfer may take place:

1)      when it is based on an adequacy decision (simplifying data transfers) as set out in s. 74;

2)      if there is no such adequacy decision, then there are appropriate safeguards in accordance with s. 75; or

3)      if neither (1) nor (2) apply, is based on special circumstances in accordance with s. 76.

The third condition relates to the recipient of the information. 

The Court was agreed that the Home Secretary’s decision was not based on an adequacy decision, nor were there appropriate safeguards in the sense of s. 75. As Lady Hale remarked, “[t]his transfer was not based on an adequacy decision or on there being appropriate safeguards, because there were none” [10]. The issue of whether the decision was lawful would therefore depend on whether special circumstances existed; the Court did not consider whether special circumstances could only be relied on if neither of the other two categories apply. Section 76(1) specifies that special circumstances will apply if the transfer is necessary for one of five listed purposes:

1)      to protect the vital interests of the data subject or another person;

2)      to safeguard the legitimate interests of the data subject;

3)      for the prevention of an immediate and serious threat to the public security of a member State or a third country;

4)      in individual cases for any of the law enforcement purposes, or

5)      in individual cases for a legal purpose.

Section 31 DPA defines the law enforcement purposes. It would seem that s. 76(1)(d) and (e) are relevant here, but they are subject to a further control. Section 76(2) specifies they “do not apply if the controller determines that fundamental rights and freedoms of the data subject override the public interest in the transfer”. Further, according to s 76(3), the transfer must in all cases be documented.

Special circumstances, according to the Court, requires a specific assessment of whether these conditions are satisfied. The Court stated that the purpose of section 73 was to “set out a structured framework for decision-making, with appropriate documentation” [219] and, as the ICO submitted, requires:

 ‘conscious and contemporaneous’ consideration of the statutory tests prior to any transfer taking place. Further, the record-keeping requirement, including the requirement to set out the ‘justification for the transfer’ … cannot sensibly be read as requiring no more than ex post cosideration of whether a transfer was justified [218].

This was lacking here and the fact that the Home Secretary did not have regard to his duties as data controller meant that the special circumstances basis for transfer was not available [158]. Lord Carnwath sugggested here that the decision was based on political expediency rather than strict necessity as required by the statute [227] – Lord Kerr took a similar view.

There was a further question about impact of ‘fundamental rights and freedoms’ in s 76(2) – this per Lady Hale includes right to life in Art 2 ECHR. She argued, albeit obiter dicta, that this points towards an interpretation of s 76(2) so as to preclude a transfer of personal data to facilitate a prosecution which could result in the death penalty [26]. Lord Carnwath states that a failure to consider the point is a further reason that the Home Secretary’s decision cannot stand [228]; Lord Hodge sees the force of this point but as it was not fully argued reserves his position.

Lord Kerr took a different view, arguing that the processing (ie through the transfer of data as part of the MLA) was not lawful and fair – ie did not comply with the data protection principles in s. 34 DPA. He came to this conclusion because he, alone out of the judges, had taken the view that the common law would prevent the Home Secretary from acting in this way.

Comment

On one level the judgment could be seen as narrow; providing protection only through procedural mechanisms, leaving the Home Secretary free to make the same decision again, having directed her mind to the issues. Similarly, in its approach to the common law and the need for incremental development, the court is showing deference to the primacy of the legislature (see paras 170 and 233), especially in the context of the exercise of prerogative powers.  However, in its interpretation of the DPA and more particularly in the way it approached how the provisions should be interpreted, the judgment has a broader significance.  Indeed, its approach is in marked contrast to that of the lower courts, which may now change direction.

The Supreme Court here is emphasising the importance of data controllers actively engaging with the requirements imposed by the DPA; here the concerns stemmed from the fact that the Home Secretary “did not address his mind to the 2018 Act at all” [6]. So it seems that to be able to use any of the gateways in s. 73, consideration must be given to the protections in place, whatever the mechanism used. In terms of both the gateway based on appropriate safeguards and that which requires special circumstances, Lord Carnwath makes an important distinction between a decision which takes factors into account and one which is based on there being appropriate safeguards or special circumstances [219]. This distinction operates to raise the threshold of the standards required. The Supreme Court did not address the question of whether the three gateways operate in a hierarchy; that is each must be considered and discounted before moving on to the next. This would, as the respondents argued, place an additional burden on them.

The Supreme Court also confirmed the approach to understanding ‘necessary’ in s. 76(1) regarding the objectives in relation to which special circumstances may arise, which should be understood in the light of recital 72 to the LED. While the Divisional Court had used recital 72 to try to justify seeing this particular case as not being problematic (the recital gives the example of mass surveillance), The Supreme Court emphasises that any transfer must be ‘strictly necessary’ (rather than ‘necessary’ as in the DPA). Lady Hale referred to the judgment of Warby J in Guriev v Community Safety Development (UK) Ltd ([2016] EWHC 643 (QB)) who said

The test of necessity is a strict one, requiring any interference with the subject’s rights to be proportionate to the gravity of the threat to the public interest” (para 45)

While this may leave questions about the meaning of necessary and proportionality and their relationship to one another (a common question), it is clear that the scope of s. 76 is to be narrowly interpreted – as indeed is the general approach under EU law to derogations – and that the proportionality of the transfer must be considered.

Lady Hale’s obiter views on s 76(2) DPA (which the rest of the Court accepted had force) also indicate that the Supreme Court is taking a strict approach to compliance here.  Her argument accepts that even if a transfer is necessary and proportionate it may still be overridden by the rights of the data subject – as found in a range of instruments, including the ECHR. These rights are not limited to data protection and privacy rights but include any of the rights so protected. Lady Hale expressly identifies the right to life (Art 2 ECHR). This means that the protection awarded is not just procedural but could include an assessment of the substance of the rights. Significantly, she made the point that fundamental rights are protected whatever the person’s nationality or place of residence and, implicitly, that these protections may have an extraterritorial effect. That is, they protect not just the rights of data subjects who remain within the jurisdiction once their data are transferred but possibly also those data subjects who are outside the jurisdiction when their data are transferred by a controller within the jurisdiction.

The judgment is clearly important for the transfer of data under the LED, but the provisions on data transfer in that context bear some similarity to the structure to that of Art 49 GDPR dealing with transfers in specific situations. It is not hard to imagine that a similar analytical methodology could be applied by the British courts if confronted with such a case.

The final question is what impact, if any, might this decision have on the possibility of a data protection adequacy decision for the UK from the EU Commission after Brexit (which would simplify the transfer of data from the EU to the UK). On the one hand, this shows that the administration got things very wrong, which might count against an adequacy decision; conversely, the approach of the Supreme Court might provide reassurance that there is effective oversight of data protection rights by independent courts in the UK. It could then come down to how the Government reacts to the Supreme Court’s judgment.

Photo credit: David Iliff, via Wikicommons

Prorogation of Parliament: Conflicting judgments in England and Scotland

Alan S. Reid, Senior Lecturer in Law, Sheffield Hallam University. The author welcomes comments on the blog at a.s.reid@shu.ac.uk.

The A-Z of Scots Law: From Avizandum to the Zany Antics of Boris Johnson

The recent, zany antics of Prime Minister Boris Johnson are being subject to intense interrogation by the Scottish legal system. The case of Cherry has seen the decision to prorogue the UK Parliament declared unlawful and the Prime Minister’s reported defiance to refuse to comply with the specific terms of the European Union (Withdrawal) (No.2) Act 2019 will be litigated upon in the Scottish courts next week. This new statute is designed to avoid a No-Deal Brexit on Halloween. It requires the Prime Minister to send a letter to the European Council requesting an extension to the Article 50 TEU negotiating period by the 19th of October 2019 if there is no deal in place (or no vote by parliament approving a no deal outcome) between the UK and EU by that date. 

These developments have exposed non-Scots lawyers and the general public in the UK to a whole new lexicon. In the Cherry case, they were treated to the terms ‘Avizandum’ and ‘stymie’ and in the prospective case forcing Boris Johnson to comply with the 2019 law, the general populace encountered the Latin term ‘nobile officium’.

The term ‘Avizandum’ is a Scots law term of art indicating that the court will take time to consider its judgment and deliver its reasoning at a later date. The word ‘stymie’ has been used in the case of Cherry to refer to the fact that proroguing Parliament will frustrate Parliament’s ability to scrutinise the work of the Executive while it is suspended. The etymology of ‘stymie’ is Scottish and refers to someone who can’t see very well and it was adopted as a golfing term to refer to a ball that prevents their opponent from having a clear shot at the hole. Thus, it is an apposite term for the actions of a Prime Minister attempting to deflect Parliament’s attention away from a No-Deal Brexit.

The ‘nobile officium’ is an ancient power of the supreme court of Scotland (the Court of Session) to offer an equitable remedy for pursuers when there is a perceived deficiency in the law.

This blog will discuss the significance of the unanimous decision of the Scottish judges in Cherry to declare the Prime Minister’s prorogation of Parliament unlawful, compare and contrast this with the English High Court’s decision to refuse to rule on the matter in Miller 2 and the potential ramifications of these cases for the Supreme Court hearing on Tuesday the 17th of September 2019. (For an overview of the prorogation case law with links, see here).

The original Cherry case (discussed here) was the first legal test of Boris Johnson’s decision to prorogue Parliament. At first instance, Lord Doherty roundly rejected the petitioner's pleas, holding that the decision to prorogue was an exercise of prerogative power (ie non-statutory) by the executive (the Government) that was non-justiciable (ie not amenable to review by a court), since it involved matters of high policy and political judgment. Thus, such matters were best left to be resolved in the political arena, primarily by the Prime Minister being held accountable for his actions by his equals in Parliament and subsequently by the electorate at the ballot box.

South of the border, Gina Miller, Shami Chakrabarti and Sir John Major instigated a similar claim against prorogation in the English High Court. At this level, both courts were at one on this point: the decision of the Prime Minister to prorogue was a classic exercise of prerogative power that was non-justiciable, since it involved matters of high policy and political judgment (see the Miller justifications at paras. 38, 42 and 60, the dicta of Lord Doherty in Cherry 1 at paras. 25 and 26 and the Scottish case law of MacCormcick v Lord Advocate 1953 SC 390, Gibson v Lord Advocate 1975 SC 136 and Lord Gray’s Motion 2000 SC (HL) 46). In their view, there were no legal standards from which to judge the legitimacy of the decision to prorogue (para. 51). The justifications for such an approach are plentiful and eminent. The long line of judicial precedent confirming such an approach stretch from de Freitas v Benny ([1976] AC 239), R v Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, ex parte Everett [1975] 1 QB 811 the GCHQ case through to A v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2005] 1 AC 68 (aka the Belmarsh case) and the case of Shergill v Khaira [2014] UKSC 33.  In the Belmarsh case, Lord Bingham famously declared that:

“The more purely political (in a broad or narrow sense) a question is, the more appropriate it will be for political resolution and the less likely it is to be an appropriate matter for judicial decision. The smaller, therefore, will be the potential role of the court. It is the function of political and not judicial bodies to resolve political questions.”

Further, as I discussed last week, the dissenting judges in Miller 1 offered a stark warning to judges willing to embark on evaluations of matters involving high policy. Lord Reed expressed the view that:

“It is important for courts to understand that the legalisation of political issues is not always constitutionally appropriate, and may be fraught with risk, not least for the judiciary.”

The English High Court heeded such warnings and tersely stated in the first paragraph of its judgment in Miller 2 that:

“It is not a matter for the courts.”

The non-justiciability argument appeared to have won the day north and south of the border. And further, to the west, beyond the Irish Sea, the High Court of Northern Ireland in Belfast decided not to rule on the prorogation issue at all, in a case brought by Raymond McCord.

Further, the English High Court also considered at the same time that, even if the contested order to prorogue had been reviewable, a number of legitimate and plausible reasons had been put forward by the Prime Minister that supplied sufficient reasoning for the prorogation (para. 51). Primarily, it is entirely normal and expected that a new Prime Minister would desire a Queen’s Speech in order to give legal effect to their policy priorities. Further, in the present instance, even with prorogation, there would still be time to debate and scrutinise Britain’s withdrawal from the EU; there would already be reduced Parliamentary time to scrutinize, given that the prorogation would fall in the middle of the traditional  party conference season when Parliament is recessed; and finally, the previous Parliamentary session had been one of the longest in living memory.

In the face of such insurmountable odds, it appeared that all was lost for the Remain Alliance. The activities of the Prime Minister were beyond legal reproach, even if not beyond political or ethical reproach. And yet...

The original decision of Lord Doherty in the Outer House of the Court of Session in Scotland was immediately appealed against. On Wednesday the 11th of September 2019, the three judges of the Inner House dropped their bombshell unanimous decision – the decision of the Prime Minister to prorogue Parliament was justiciable and upon subsequent forensic examination it had been found wanting.

The Scottish judges did not hold back, using rather forceful language to condemn the events laid before them. Lord Brodie found that the decision to prorogue was an ‘egregious case’ of improper behaviour (para. 91) falling well below the generally accepted standards of behaviour expected of public authorities and figures.

At first glance, the remarkable decision of the Scottish Supreme Court flies in the face of received legal orthodoxy. Proroguing Parliament is a classically political act, thus protected from legal challenge. So how do lawyers, north and south, square this circle?

The answer comes down to one of approach and the classification of the question that came before the courts in the three jurisdictions of the UK. As I discussed earlier, the question of the justiciability of royal prerogative powers is no longer a binary one, ever since the GCHQ case. Now, the test for justiciability rests on the nature of the prerogative power in question. The more legalistic in nature the power is, the easier it is for the courts to assume jurisdiction. Conversely, the more political or non-legal the power, the harder it is for the court to assume jurisdiction over that decision-making power. However, this sliding scale argument just outlined, does not help much in explaining the diametrically opposed judgments north and south of the border. Indeed, on this view, the English and Scottish courts should have been at one.

Legal clarification to this confusing situation may come, ironically some may say, from eminent Sassenach (used here in a non-pejorative sense) legal jurists, Professor Paul Craig and Professor Mark Elliott. Both Professor Craig and Elliott have cogently and eruditely explained the constitutional dilemmas borne out of Boris Johnson’s premiership. From their perspective, for the courts to absolve themselves from adjudicating upon a matter of such momentous proportions would be a gross dereliction of judicial duty (See Professor Craig’s view on this in his blog Prorogation: Three Assumptions of the 9th of September). The dangers to the UK constitution posed by the behaviour of Boris Johnson both necessitate and justify judicial involvement. This situation is such a singular affront to the democratic principles of the UK’s unwritten constitution that a judicial response is both right and necessary (See Professor Craig’s blog Prorogation: Constitutional Principle and Law, Fact and Causation, of the 31st of August).

To provide for no legal redress in this pivotal moment would create a legal vacuum and indirectly give succour and implicit legitimation to the decision of the Prime Minister (see the discussion of these matters by Alan Greene in his blog Miller 2, Non-justiciability and the Danger of Legal Black Holes, available here). For Professor Elliott, the sweeping, blanket refusal of the English High Court to entertain any possible review of the decision to prorogue is legally suspect on two main grounds. First, because the refusal to adjudicate goes against the liberalising tendency of the extant judicial precedence on non-justiciability, which is incrementally lessening the scope and reach of the non-justiciability barrier and, secondly, and in my opinion more forcefully, the judgment in Miller 2 misconstrued the legal question before it (see Professor Elliott’s blog Prorogation and justiciability: Some thoughts ahead of the Cherry/Miller (No. 2) case, available here).

Thus, the argument for intervention can be justified by looking at the questions before the UK courts from a slightly different perspective. The argument runs that the English High Court focussed, incorrectly, on the evaluation of the exercise of the discretionary power to prorogue. From this perspective, the English High Court fixated on the practical aspects of the decision to prorogue, asking itself questions about the justifications offered for the prorogation and the reasonableness of the length of time of the prorogation.  Therefore, the purpose of the judicial review appears to be one of substitution, that is the court is putting itself in the shoes of the Prime Minister and declaring whether it is reasonable for the Prime Minister to have asked for such a long period of prorogation. If that is so, then traditional legal orthodoxy kicks in: courts are not there to be a substitute for a bad decision maker, particularly when that decision is not made according to legal principles or considerations but rather, is a decision based on pure politics. Such decisions, rightly, cannot and should not be subject to supervision and substitution by the courts. The Inner House of the Court of Session chose another path for adjudication.

The Inner House, having reviewed the legal authorities, considered that the prerogative power to prorogue Parliament was justiciable (para. 31). The Court of Session approached the question from first principles of the UK constitution. The Court of Session asked a different question to that of the English High Court, namely does the legal power exist and if so, what are its boundaries? Questions about the scope of legal powers are classic judicial review questions that need resolution. Indeed, the fundamental grundnorm of the UK unwritten constitution is observance of the rule of law.

Lord Drummond Young, at para. 102, summed up this fundamental truth concisely when he said:

“The rule of law requires that any act of the executive, or any other public institution, must be liable to judicial scrutiny to ensure that it is within the scope of the legal power under which it is exercised.”

In applying this principle to the present case, the Scottish court was being asked if the exercise of the prerogative power to prorogue Parliament was being used for a purpose that was objectively outwith its scope (para. 104). This question could be answered by the Scottish court since the UK case-law evidenced a great deal of judicial flexibility in responding to these types of questions (see the case of Pham v Home Secretary [2015] 1 WLR 1591). In answer to this question, given the voluminous redacted information submitted to the court by Her Majesty’s Government, the answer must be yes: the Prime Minister had prorogued Parliament for an improper purpose, namely to stymie Parliamentary debate, oversight and scrutiny of the UK’s withdrawal from the European Union.

Regardless of their view on the justiciability and merits or otherwise of the case, the seriousness of the case, according to the Scottish judges, absolutely required a robust judicial response in any case. The actions of the Prime Minister had been an egregious case where there had been a clear failure to comply with generally accepted standards of behaviour of a public authority (see para. 91). The exceptional seriousness of the case would require the court to act.

It can be argued that the Scottish judges were not engaged in usurping power from Parliament. On the contrary, the Scottish judges, rather than emasculating Parliament, were, by delivering judgment, empowering Parliament.

The finding of the Inner House means that the decision to prorogue Parliament was illegal and as such the Order in Council is of no legal effect, that is the decision is void ab initio. However, given the constitutional significance of the case and its brethren cases in Belfast and London, the Lord President declined to enforce the judgment at once, given that all these judgments were the subject of an appeal to the Supreme Court of the UK. If the Supreme Court were to ultimately follow the dicta of the Inner House, then the judgment in Cherry 2 would be fully enforced and applied at that date.

The outcome of the conjoined appeals at the Supreme Court of the UK on Tuesday the 17th of September is far from certain. The Scottish judgment is a constitutional first: the first time a serving Prime Minister has been found guilty of acting illegally in relation to the proroguing of Parliament.

What is certain is that the 11 justices of the Supreme Court will once again make UK constitutional history after the hearing on Tuesday week.

Barnard & Peers: chapter 27

Photo credit: parliament.uk