More on standards of proof of preliminary facts

In Canada it is necessary that compliance with procedures for interviewing young people be established beyond reasonable doubt: R v LTH [2008] SCC 49 (11 September 2008). The various protections enacted in s 146(2) of the Youth Criminal Justice Act, SC 2002, c. 1 (which does not specify a standard of proof for compliance) are intended to ensure that statements made by young people are reliable (38), and proof of waiver of them is also required to be established beyond reasonable doubt (39).

The balance of probabilities is the standard applicable in New Zealand in respect of preliminary facts such as compliance with the right of a person charged with an offence to be brought as soon as possible before a court: R v Te Kira [1993] 3 NZLR 257, and compliance with the right of persons arrested or detained to consult and instruct a lawyer without delay: Police v Kohler [1993] 3 NZLR 129, and the same applies to young people: R v S (CA220/97) (1997) 15 CRNZ 214. There is some fudging of the standard, as it is called the balance of probabilities having regard to the gravity of the particular issue:

“The first issue is whether the Crown must prove the facts necessary to establish admissibility of a statement under s 221(2) [Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989] to the criminal standard of beyond reasonable doubt. In the High Court, Paterson J appears to have adopted this higher test, citing the judgment of Thorp J in R v Fitzgerald unreported, 30 October 1990, HC Auckland T183/90.

“Fitzgerald concerned compliance with the advice requirements of s 215(1)(f), which must be met before any questioning of a young person is undertaken. It was held that substantial compliance had to be proved to the criminal standard before a statement would be admitted. No argument appears to have been addressed to the issue of standard of proof. Since Fitzgerald this Court has held that in the analogous cases concerning alleged breaches of the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990, the lower standard of proof, or balance of probabilities having regard to the gravity of the particular issue, is to be applied R v Te Kira ... Police v Kohler.... We see no good reason to elevate the test under this legislation [Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989,ss 221(2)(b), 222(4)], and to add a second exception to the ordinary rule governing incidental trial issues. Proof beyond reasonable doubt is therefore not required.”

We have noted recently the discussion by the Supreme Court of what relevance the gravity of the consequences has to the standard of proof when the standard is the balance of probabilities: Z v Dental Complaints Assessment Committee, blogged 25 July 2008.

There are good reasons to complain that the fudged balance of probabilities should be replaced by the standard of proof beyond reasonable doubt. Particularly so, because in Kohler Cooke P (as he then was), delivering the decision of the Court of Appeal, said:

“The question of the standard of proof required of the prosecution to establish a waiver was raised in argument. Some American and Canadian judgments speak of a "heavy burden'', a "high standard of proof'', a "very high standard''. See for example Miranda at p 475; Moran v Burbine 475 US 412, 439, n 9, 450-452 (1986); and R v Manninen (1987) 34 CCC (3d) 385, 393. In Te Kira this Court determined that, for questions of fact concerning alleged Bill of Rights breaches, once the situation is such that the onus falls on the prosecution to negative a breach, the appropriate standard is the balance of probabilities but with the gravity of the issue borne in mind. We doubt whether in practice this will lead to results different from those that would be reached in Canada and the US. The Te Kira standard should apply on the issue of waiver as well as on other factual issues under the Bill of Rights Act. As already mentioned, the prosecution must fail by that standard here.”

If the results are not going to be different, what is the problem with requiring proof beyond reasonable doubt?

Well, in NZ the position is determined by the Evidence Act 2006, which was drafted in the light – if that's the right word – of the authorities mentioned above. The Act specifies – with the unduly fussy particularity that is currently regarded as good draftsmanship – that a finding that evidence was obtained improperly is to be made on the balance of probabilities: s 30(2)(a).

I can't help wondering whether Lord Cooke would have agreed with the decision of the House of Lords in In re B (blogged here 12 June 2008). I think he would have, and in doing so he would have revised the approach he took in Kohler, above. My current take on this is that the Evidence Act 2006 impedes progress on this point, as has the majority decision in Z, above.

This is not to say that all preliminary facts (those which must be established before other evidence becomes admissible) should be proved to the standard beyond reasonable doubt. There is nothing illogical in requiring the balance of probabilities for these, even where the ultimate issue (guilt) must be proved beyond reasonable doubt. The criteria for admissibility are separate from the criteria for proof of guilt. The choice of standard for proof of preliminary facts is a matter of policy, and in the present context it reflects the importance that the court attaches to compliance with the rights of the accused. In Kohler, above, the Court did not discuss the competing policies or give extended reasons for its choice. Similarly, in R v S, above, the Court simply saw “no good reason” for applying the standard of beyond reasonable doubt, again without policy analysis. Even the Privy Council has decided the issue without extended policy analysis: Smith v R (Jamaica) [2008] UKPC (blogged here 27 June 2008), applying the criminal standard. The reasons for the choice are a mystery.

I say “even” the Privy Council, because the Law Lords, who write their opinions without the assistance of law clerks, are least likely to use a style redolent of the honours dissertation. Posner, in “How Judges Think” (2008), makes this interesting observation (p 221):

“Students are taught to approach judicial opinions as if every word were written by the nominal author – that is, the judge – and the effect is to imbue them with a legalistic outlook, an effect reinforced by their youth (to which ... algorithmic thinking as distinguished from pragmatic or legislative thinking is more congenial than it is to older persons) and by an understandable desire to believe that their steep law school tuition is buying them a set of powerful analytic tools. When they become law clerks it is natural for them to write opinions designed to provide legalistic justifications for their judges' votes. They thus contribute to the mystification of the next student generation.”

In the absence of legalistic justification for the choice of standard of proof of preliminary facts, other than regarding earlier cases as precedents that should (but why?) be followed, there is a need for policy justification, but legal education does not develop policy reasoning.

I'm bad, I'm bad!

“I am so bad that you can't rely on my confession”: like the Cretan liar, the accused in R v Bonisteel [2008] BCCA 344 (9 September 2008) presents a paradox.

He had boasted about his criminal past in order to gain acceptance into a criminal organisation. At least, that's what he thought the organisation was. In fact he was talking to undercover police officers. They were trying to get him to confess to the murder of two girls who had died from stab wounds. In pretending to be potentially violent and a person not to be messed with, the main interviewing undercover officer questioned the accused in ways that the accused claimed at trial were oppressive. As a result the accused said he did the killings, but he was inaccurate in his account of the wounds inflicted and in his description of the girls.

If his confession to the killings was admissible at trial, his defence tactic was to say that he was lying in order to gain acceptance into the organisation. The bad things he said about himself, including accounts of other offending and prison sentences served, were said with that objective. The reasons that the gang should think he was bad were the same as the reasons the jury should think he was not bad.

There are some unsatisfactory aspects to the British Columbia Court of Appeal judgment (a judgment by Levine J, with which Lowry and Bauman JJ agreed): see CriminalReview.ca. In particular, these concern whether the defence should have been allowed to call expert evidence on false confessions (67-71). There is a floodgates danger, of course, in allowing such evidence.

What is odd is the Court's treatment of the admissibility of bad character evidence. This came first in order of points considered, whereas one would have expected it to come after the oppression point. If the undercover officer's evidence was not obtained through oppression, or other impropriety, then should it be edited to exclude reference to the accused's bad conduct on other occasions?

Instead, the Court approved the trial judge's reasoning (48):

“Thus, the trial judge did not expressly consider editing the statements because his analysis led him to the conclusion that the prejudicial portions were relevant to an issue in the case – the truthfulness of the appellant’s confession – their probative value outweighed their prejudicial effect, and the prejudice could be dealt with by a prophylactic warning. In other words, the prejudicial evidence was neither 'irrelevant' nor 'unnecessarily prejudicial to the accused', so the duty to edit did not arise.”

This led the Court to address the decision on whether a warning to the jury would be an adequate substitute for exclusion of the evidence, and it held that the judge had correctly decided that a warning would suffice.

There is no suggestion in the Court's judgment that the prosecution was able to call evidence of the accused's character other than what the accused had said to the undercover officer. The focus was on the relevance of that evidence to the truth of the confession, that is, to its reliability. However reliability does not cure oppression or impropriety which are logically the prior considerations.

Well, if the Court had addressed the confession admissibility issue first, would it have decided that it had been correctly ruled admissible?

Probably yes: the accused had put himself in a position where he must have realised that the sort of conduct that persuaded him to confess (or more likely, to boast) was likely to occur. In the absence of oppression, the next question is whether there was improper police conduct such as to justify exclusion of the confession on public policy grounds. Unlikely, as far as one can tell from the judgment (86-94). So, the confession was admissible. What then of the bad conduct evidence?

The answer is that, once the confession became admissible, the defence would want the bad conduct evidence in to support its claim that the confession was just big talk. Boasting about his criminal past was part of the accused's tactic to gain acceptance into what he thought was a criminal organisation. His defence was, in effect, “I'm bad, but not that bad.”

Business as usual

Like everyone else, I spend much of my time looking out the window. Except for blind people of course. And those in cells without views. My view is of a forest that looks much as it must have millions of years ago, minus the large and dangerous fauna. I say millions of years with some confidence, as this part of the North Island apparently dates from the late Jurassic. The exasperations of the law have caused me to look at this scene many times. One of the things I wonder about, and have done so today, is why so many criminal appeals are concerned with points that should be obvious.

Vast numbers of criminal appeals are futile, or result from errors that should never have happened. If there is something wrong with this, who is to blame? Are lower courts wilfully contrary or hopelessly dull witted? Are counsel afraid to advise against appeals? Richard Posner in “How Judges Think” (2008, Harvard University Press) says that the high number of criminal appeals is due to appellants not having to pay any costs.

Should lawyers take more responsibility for making decisions – or, more properly, giving firm advice – based on the prospects of success on appeal? Do insurance policies protecting counsel from liability for negligence require that every avenue be explored? Should there be some penalty on judges who make fundamental errors (send them back for a stint in the jurisdiction of first instance)?

It is very rare in a busy criminal practice to come across a point that is genuinely worth appealing. At least it is if the case has been properly handled in the lower court. You would not think so if you got your impressions from reading appellate cases. Those may suggest that every case bristles with genuine appeal points. But they are a very small proportion of the number of cases that are commenced.

But enough of the preamble. Today the High Court of Australia decided that supply of cocaine is likely to seriously endanger the health of the end user: Gedeon v Commissioner NSW Crime Commission [2008] HCA 43. I look out the window and sigh.

A slave to the law

When mens rea requires intention, problems may arise from ignorance of the law being no excuse. This has been illustrated in drug possession cases, concerning the extent of knowledge of the nature of the substance possessed as a component of the intention to exercise possession: see eg R v Metuariki [1986] 1 NZLR 488; (1986) 2 CRNZ 116 (CA). The law deems you to know all the names of the substances listed in the relevant legislation creating the drug offences. But what if you thought that the substance was not a drug but simply a dietary supplement? You might think that, and also know that consuming the substance would give you a buzz: does that amount to mens rea? What if you thought that the thing was not any sort of drug, but that it was something you were not allowed to possess?

I was reminded of these issues when reading today's decision by the High Court of Australia, R v Tang [2008] HCA 39 (28 August 2008). The main issue here was the meaning of intention in the offences of “ intentionally ... possess[ing] a slave or exercis[ing] over a slave any of the other powers attaching to the right of ownership”: Criminal Code (Cth) s 270.3(1)(a). Pursuant to s 270.1, “slavery is the condition of a person over whom any or all of the powers attaching to the right of ownership are exercised ...”. Does mens rea include knowledge that the powers that were exercised amounted to powers attaching to the right of ownership?

At trials (there were two trials, the first resulted in no verdict), the juries had been concerned about this, as revealed in their questions (123 - 124):

“Does the defendant have to have known what the definition of a slave is 'to intentionally possess a slave' as stated in the indictment?”

“To intentionally possess a slave is it necessary for the accused to have knowledge that her actions amount to slavery, or is it sufficient that the accused only have knowledge of the conditions she has imposed (ie slavery has not entered her mind) and the law has decided those conditions amount to slavery?”

The bench of seven delivered three reasoned judgments: Kirby J dissented on the main issue but agreed on subsidiary matters that need not concern us here. The leading judgments were by Gleeson CJ and Hayne J.

Kirby J agreed with the answers to the juries questions that had been proposed by the Court of Appeal, which had set out the following on the main issue (89):

“ ... the accused must have possessed the worker in the intentional exercise of what constitutes a power attaching to a right of ownership, namely, the power of possession. For that to be the case the accused must be shown to have regarded the worker as though she was mere property, a thing, thereby intending to deal with her not as a human being who had free will and a right to liberty, but as though she was mere property. However harsh or oppressive her conduct was towards the worker it would not be sufficient for a conviction if, rather than having possessed the worker with the knowledge, intention, or in the belief that she was dealing with her as though she was mere property, the accused possessed her in the knowledge or belief that she was exercising some different right or entitlement to do so, falling short of what would amount to ownership, such as that of an employer, contractor, or manager."

This highlights the view (rejected by the majority in the High Court) that mens rea includes knowledge of what the law defines as a right of ownership. This approach is analogous to requiring, for the mens rea of drug possession, knowledge of what substances are listed in the relevant legislation.

Gummow CJ addressed mens rea (48 – 49) and held:

“ ... If a person is known by an accused to possess the qualities that, by virtue of s 270.1, go to make that person a slave, then the state of knowledge relevant to intention, and therefore intention itself, may be established regardless of whether the accused appreciates the legal significance of those qualities.”

The Judges must have had in mind the analogy with drug offences, as He Kaw Teh v R [1985] HCA 43 was cited. There, mens rea for importing narcotics was held to include knowledge of the nature and character of the object imported, in the sense that it was a narcotic. He Kaw Teh was not cited in Metuariki (decided 20 May 1986), which has a more detailed consideration of what is the guilty knowledge element of mens rea. These are, nevertheless, difficult to analyse, but they seem to come down to knowledge of either the identity (name, whether common or scientific) of the thing, or knowledge of its effects when consumed.

No doubt comparisons will be made by commentators between He Kaw Teh and Tang: the apparent inconsistency is plain; if importing a narcotic is a serious enough offence to require extension of mens rea to include knowledge of the narcotic nature of the thing imported, why doesn't slavery require knowledge that the rights being exercised are those that are recognised in law as attaching to ownership. If the law acknowledges the exculpatory effect of ignorance that a substance is a narcotic – so that such ignorance is not ignorance of the law – why doesn't the law grant exculpatory effect to ignorance that a right is one that the law attaches to ownership?

Now we are four!

Good grief, was that four years of blogging?
Just an amusing hobby.

Appellant accuses counsel

In Muirhead v R (Jamaica) [2008] UKPC 39 (28 July 2008) the Privy Council allowed an appeal against conviction for murder because of fundamental irregularities that created an unacceptable risk that the trial had not been fair. The issue was identification, and the only significant evidence against the accused was from a child eye witness.

The irregularities were of the kind that only become apparent after the trial: an observer would have thought that there was nothing out of the ordinary in the way the trial had been conducted. Significantly, the appellant’s claim that the errors had occurred was not contradicted by any explanation tendered to the appellate court (the Board) by counsel who represented the appellant at trial.

The appellant swore in an affidavit to the Board that he had not received advice on the consequences of giving a statement from the dock instead of (as he had done at his first trial, in which the jury were unable to agree) giving evidence. He said junior counsel had suddenly indicated to him, while he sat in the dock moments before the decision had to be made, that senior counsel felt he should not go into the witness box. He received no advice about what a statement from the dock entailed or what he should talk about, or about the weight it might have compared with evidence from the witness box.

Also, there was no explanation tendered by counsel for failure at the second trial to call or adduce evidence of the accused’s good character, when such evidence had been called at the first trial.

The Board stressed the importance of counsel keeping a record of instructions (27). That would not assist the appellate court if counsel refused to divulge what they were, but there are ways of making counsel co-operate (new counsel on appeal summoning earlier counsel to give evidence after waiver of privilege by the client). Here there was only silence, and the Board did not speculate as to why.

The duty of counsel to raise good character was emphasised by Lord Carswell and Lord Mance in a concurring judgment (34). Failure to do so here had significance where the appellant should have given evidence at trial, as the judge’s direction on good character may have affected the jury’s assessment of his evidence, especially here where at the first trial the jury had failed to agree. Therefore, the appellant may not have received a fair trial.

Pensees d'escalier

An illustration of how the principle of finality in litigation can prevent a superior court of record from correcting its errors after the necessary formal administrative step has been taken by the registry to complete (“perfect”) the proceedings, is Burrell v R [2008] HCA 34 (31 July 2008).

The High Court unanimously held that the Court of Criminal Appeal (NSW) could not correct the facts it had relied on in its lengthy judgment which dismissed the appellant’s appeal against convictions for murder and kidnapping. The facts had been erroneously summarised in a document which had been included with the appellant’s submissions. The appellate court as a result had a false understanding of some of the evidence. An official in the registry had taken the steps necessary to finalise the appellate court’s order, but this had been done with what Kirby J, in a separate concurring judgment, considered to be arguably “needless speed” (83). Had this not been done so quickly, counsel would have had an opportunity, of the sort that commonly arises when appeal judgments are delivered ex tempore, to offer the court an opportunity to correct and, if necessary, reconsider.

The principle of finality has the purposes of (16) protection of the parties from attempts to re-litigate decided matters, of spurring the court and the parties to get it right the first time, and to spare the parties and the court of the time and expense of a revisiting of the issues. There is additionally (20) the need to be able to be certain about what the result of a case is. (A subsequent amendment to the Rules here allows error correction within 14 days: para 30.)

Kirby J remembered the pressures under which the Court of Appeal conducts its business (78-80), and pointed to the difficulties that may be faced in correcting errors on appeal, where the proviso may be applied (81-82, 89-90) and the attitude of the prosecution to error correction may not be as co-operative as it should be (91-92). Criminal cases have become more complex, submissions more detailed, and decisions longer (84-85) than had been the case when appeals were more commonly disposed of in oral decisions. The difficulty in this case would not have arisen if the official in the registry had not acted so quickly.

We are not told here what the errors of fact had been, and to what extent they may have prejudiced the appellant. The High Court was dealing simply with the jurisdictional point concerning the power to correct error, and the case was remitted to the Court of Appeal for rehearing.

Enticed co-operation and its rewards

When does giving a defendant information as to the possible consequences of his co-operation with the prosecution amount to an abuse of process? Probably never, unless threats of unlawful action are made: Mckinnon v United States of America [2008] UKHL 59 (30 July 2008).

Lord Brown, with whom all the Law Lords agreed, concluded (at 41):

“…It is difficult, indeed, to think of anything other than the threat of unlawful action which could fairly be said so to imperil the integrity of the extradition process as to require the accused, notwithstanding his having resisted the undue pressure, to be discharged irrespective of the strength of the case against him.”
Here, the appellant faced extradition on charges arising from his alleged interference, from his home in London, with military computers in the USA. The US authorities indicated to his lawyer that if he did not oppose extradition his co-operation would very likely result in a significantly lower sentence and in repatriation after a minimum time to serve the balance of the sentence in the UK. He resisted that inducement and argued that it amounted to an abuse of process to such an extent that the proceedings against him should be stayed.

Lord Brown observed (at 34) that plea bargaining is not unknown in the UK:

“…it is as well to recognise that the difference between the American system and our own is not perhaps so stark as the appellant's argument suggests. In this country too there is a clearly recognised discount for a plea of guilty: a basic discount of one-third for saving the cost of the trial, more if a guilty plea introduces other mitigating factors, and more still (usually one half to two thirds but exceptionally three-quarters or even beyond that) in the particular circumstances provided for by sections 71-75 of the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act 2005—see R v P; R v Blackburn [2007] EWCA Crim 2290. No less importantly, it is accepted practice in this country for the parties to hold off-the-record discussions whereby the prosecutor will accept pleas of guilty to lesser charges (or on a lesser factual basis) in return for a defendant's timely guilty plea. Indeed the entire premise of the principle established in Goodyear [2005] 1 WLR 2532 is that the parties will have reached an agreed basis of plea in private before the judge is approached. What, it must be appreciated, Goodyear forbids are judicial, not prosecutorial, indications of sentence. Indeed, Goodyear goes further than would be permitted in the United States by allowing the judge in certain circumstances to indicate what sentence he would pass.”

The circumstances of USA v Cobb [2001] 1 SCR 587 were distinguished, and it could not be said that here the prosecuting authority had attempted to interfere with the due process of the court, nor had it put undue pressure on the appellant to forego due legal process, and extradition here would not violate the fundamental principles of justice that underlie the community’s sense of fair play and decency, and neither would the appellant have paid an unconscionable price for insisting on his rights under English law (para 33 and 38).

We have become so accustomed to procedures like plea bargaining that it is difficult to see what is wrong with reducing a person’s sentence in exchange for a plea of guilty. Economic efficiency has become the dominant concern. It would be interesting to know how many people are adversely affected by this policy: how many convictions are obtained in this way, that could not be lawfully secured otherwise? What is the social cost of such “pragmatic” convictions, compared with the benefits of savings in court time and reduced expenditure on punishment?

[Update:] For a feet-on-the-ground appraisal of this case, see the comment by the English playwright Alan Bennett in Keeping On Keeping On (Faber & Faber, London, 2016), reproducing his diary entry for 31 July 2008, which reads: "A depressing judgement in the House of Lords. This is the not unexpected rejection of the appeal against extradition to the USA of Gary McKinnon, the computer programmer who, for no other reason than that it was there, hacked into the Pentagon computer. Unless the European Court has more courage and more sense than the Law Lords he faces an American prison. And for what? Cheek."
Subsequently, in what the Guardian on 16 October 2012 described as "a victory for common sense" Teresa May blocked the extradition.

Appeals on moot questions

It is a relief to see that the Supreme Court did not need to refer again to the balance of probabilities (see last blog) when it granted leave to appeal in Gordon-Smith v R [2008] NZSC 56 (25 July 2008).

The leave granted here opens the door for an appeal against the ruling in R v King and Stevens [2008] NZCA 79 (blogged 14 April 2008). The case name has changed because this appellant, a co-defendant at trial, had standing to seek leave to appeal. Her standing arose from the fact that she was convicted, and that the Court of Appeal decision on the point of law reserved at the request of the prosecution went against her. But, because the trial judge’s ruling had been in her favour, there is no possibility that a successful appeal here will affect her conviction or sentence. The Crown too wished to appeal against an aspect of the Court of Appeal’s ruling, but again at trial a procedure favoured by the Crown had been followed.

The questions of law for determination in this case are therefore, as far as the parties are concerned, moot. They are:

(1) Can the police supply so-called “vetted jury lists” to the Crown to assist the Crown in deciding whether or not to challenge a prospective juror? If yes:
(2) Should a vetted jury list that is supplied to the Crown also be made available to the accused?
(3) Can the Crown peremptorily challenge a prospective juror on the basis of information obtained from a vetted jury list?

The Supreme Court discussed the question of when it should hear cases where there is no longer an issue that could affect the parties. Following the Supreme Court of Canada in Borowski v Attorney-General [1989] 1 SCR 342 at 358-363, the relevant considerations, once a question qualifies for consideration as a matter of public or general importance, and once a person with standing is applying for leave, are the importance of the adversarial process (which might not be invoked properly in the absence of a live issue between the parties), the need for economic use of judicial time, and the sensitivity of the courts to their proper role (advisory opinions being undesirable, especially where the legislature should determine the matter). The approach being properly cautious, particularly so where (but not in this case) an appeal might call into question the propriety of an acquittal (para 26 – 28), the Court concluded that here the questions were not ones that should be left to the legislature. The same questions of procedure were likely to arise in another case and it was desirable to review the correctness of the Court of Appeal’s decision promptly.

Proof and consequences

Cynical barristers – few though they may be – probably think that judges fudge the standard of proof so that they can decide issues as they wish.

The European Court of Human Rights appears to take a hard line against such fudging: in Saadi v Italy [2008] ECHR 179 (noted in blog for In re B, 12 June 2008) the Grand Chamber rejected an argument that consequences should influence the strength of the evidence required on an issue the court had to decide (para 140, 142). That was in the context of the consequences of allowing a person to remain in Italy (allegedly he was a risk to public safety, especially in the United Kingdom, which intervened in these proceedings) as against the risk that if extradited he would be subject to breach of his absolute right not to be subjected to inhumane treatment (a risk he alleged would arise in Tunisia). The United Kingdom argued that because of the risk he posed to public safety, Mr Saadi should have to adduce stronger evidence than would otherwise be required of the risk to him of ill-treatment. But this (para 140)

“…amounts to asserting that, in the absence of evidence meeting a higher standard, protection of national security justifies accepting more readily a risk of ill-treatment for the individual. The Court … sees no reason to modify the relevant standard of proof, as suggested by the third-party intervener, by requiring in cases like the present that it be proved that subjection to ill-treatment is “more likely than not”. On the contrary, it reaffirms that for a planned forcible expulsion to be in breach of the Convention it is necessary – and sufficient – for substantial grounds to have been shown for believing that there is a real risk that the person concerned will be subjected in the receiving country to treatment prohibited by Article 3 …”

Mr Saadi did not have to go so far as proving on the balance of probabilities that he faced ill-treatment in Tunisia: it was sufficient for him to show “substantial grounds for believing there is a real risk” of such a breach of Art 3. And the risk he might pose to the safety of people in the UK had nothing to do with the likelihood of his being subjected to ill treatment if extradited to Tunisia (139):

“... Either the evidence adduced before the Court reveals that there is a substantial risk if the person is sent back or it does not. The prospect that he may pose a serious threat to the community if not returned does not reduce in any way the degree of risk of ill treatment that the person may be subject to on return. For that reason it would be incorrect to require a higher standard of proof, as submitted by the intervener, where the person is considered to represent a serious danger to the community, since assessment of the level of risk is independent of such a test.”

However, the consequences of the decision (risk of ill-treatment) do make the court sit up and pay attention:

“142 … the Court has always been very cautious, examining carefully the material placed before it in the light of the requisite standard of proof …”

I mention all this because today it looks as though consequences are permitted to affect the strength of evidence that is required to meet a fixed standard of proof: Z v Dental Complaints Assessment Committee [2008] NZSC 55 (25 July 2008).

Here Supreme Court decided that the criminal standard of proof does not apply to disciplinary proceedings, but that the standard of proof is the civil standard, the balance of probabilities (the sole dissenter on this point was Elias CJ). That aspect of the decision is not particularly surprising, although it was certainly not inevitable. The point of interest here is whether stronger evidence is needed to meet the civil standard when criminal misconduct is alleged.

Saadi v Italy was not cited, but In re B (blogged here 12 June 2008) was. Sharma v DPP (Trinidad and Tobago) (blogged here 11 December 2006) was not.

The majority of the Court, in a joint judgment (Blanchard, Tipping and McGrath JJ) with which Anderson J largely agreed, recognised that the standard – the balance of probabilities – does not change, but that the nature and consequences of the facts to be proved are relevant to the assessment of the evidence. The the standard of proof on the balance of probabilities is accordingly described as flexible. This follows (para 98) Dixon J in Briginshaw v Briginshaw (1938) 60 CLR 336, 361-362 and purports to follow (at para 105) Baroness Hale in re B at 63 and 64. She, you will recall (blog 12 June 2008), administered the quietus to a misunderstanding of what Lord Nicholls had meant in an oft-quoted dictum. And yet, the joint judgment in Z adds, para 114:

“It is sometimes suggested that the law could, at the discretion of the relevant tribunal, require the criminal standard, but only in respect of the most serious of allegations in disciplinary proceedings, being those which would also found serious criminal charges…. Little guidance has been given, however, on when it will be appropriate to require the criminal standard. No coherent principles have been suggested. Conversely, the flexible approach avoids the difficulties of having different standards in the same type of proceeding and having to decide where to draw the line…. In this respect, the flexibly applied civil standard is not only a more straightforward one to apply to disciplinary proceedings. It is also a standard which has conceptual integrity.” [footnotes omitted]

This appears to make the balance of probabilities perform the function of proof beyond reasonable doubt where the consequences warrant that. In place of the uncertainty over when the criminal standard should apply, the majority substitute uncertainty over when consequences will be deemed sufficiently serious to trigger flexibility. The joint judgment purports to deny that requiring stronger evidence in some situations is a matter of law (para 105), whatever that means; are submissions prohibited as to the implications of the seriousness of the consequences for the strength of evidence needed in a given case?

It is tempting to view the majority decision in Z as a choice of the wrong standard of proof for disciplinary tribunals. Generally, it is unpleasant to think of judges as being distracted by the consequences of a decision when they determine whether evidence is sufficiently strong to meet the burden of proof. For example, it would be wrong for a judge to bear in mind that the consequence of finding that the defendant’s rights had been breached could be exclusion of important evidence against him, when deciding whether there had been such a breach.

Anderson J applied a logical approach in largely agreeing with the joint judgment. He criticised (para 143) the Chief Justice’s dissent:

“I have difficulty with the Chief Justice’s proposition that consistency is promoted by applying the criminal standard. It is not the choice of standard which promotes consistency but the consistent application of the same standard, whatever it might be.”

But will regard for the consequences of a decision promote consistency? Why wouldn’t uniform application of the criminal standard to disciplinary proceedings promote consistency? Anderson J says (145) that the choice of the civil standard is supported by the community risks relevant to professional misconduct, but serious crime can also involve community risk – often of a greater degree – yet no one suggests that in such cases the civil standard should apply. True, as the joint judgment points out at 117, some other jurisdictions use the civil standard in disciplinary proceedings, although in the UK it is likely that the criminal standard will apply to such proceedings concerning barristers (110), and perhaps to health professionals (111). The joint judgment preference is for experience over logic (107).

The weakness of the majority's analysis in Z arises from a misuse of the word "flexible". This is more appropriately descriptive of the ease or difficulty with which evidence on an issue might be obtained. It is not a description of the level or standard of proof needed to satisfy the court on the issue. The House of Lords has corrected its over-analysis of the balance of probabilities, and the Strasbourg Court has refrained from embarking on such a discussion, so Elias CJ, although being the minority in Z, is in good company.

A different aspect of Z concerns abuse of process and whether matters that had been the subject of criminal charges on which the defendant was acquitted could be considered subsequently by a disciplinary tribunal. They could, although Anderson J disagreed as to one of the incidents. He, with the majority, saw no difficulty in tribunals having regard to such matters, because of the different context of their proceedings (156), but on the one matter on which they differed the majority (134-136) pointed to jurisdictional reasons for preventing the tribunal from considering it.