Control: peaceable possession of land

Pronouns and political correctness: "his", or "his or her"?

Section 56(1) of the Crimes Act 1961 [NZ] has been politically corrected (or, more properly, gender neutralised, or - even more properly - gender balanced). The original version printed in the leading criminal text robustly reads:

"Every one in peaceable possession of any land or building, and every one lawfully assisting him or acting by his authority, is justified in using reasonable force to prevent any person from trespassing on the land or building or to remove him therefrom, if he does not strike or do bodily harm to that person."

But online you will find this (to become the "official" version from 6 January 2014):

"Every one in peaceable possession of any land or building, and every one lawfully assisting him or her or acting by his or her authority, is justified in using reasonable force to prevent any person from trespassing on the land or building or to remove him or her therefrom, if he or she does not strike or do bodily harm to that person."

I can tolerate a bit of this sort of thing, and my objections spring from experience: if you try to think of a way of saying something by avoiding "he or she", and sexist language generally, you may well come up with better prose.

But s 56(1) is a hard nut to crack from that point of view, so the two versions confront us with the aesthetic question of which is the better prose, and if the former is better, the moral question whether gender balance is more important than cadence. However one would also have to take into account the need to avoid redundancy and tautology, arising from the operation of s 31 of the Interpretation Act 1999.

Strictly speaking, wrestling with this sort of problem is a matter for the Chief Parliamentary Counsel in the preparation of a revision Bill pursuant to s 31(2)(e) of the Legislation Act 2012. It can also be done when there is a reprint under s 25(1)(a) of that Act, to conform to "current drafting practice".

This gender balance business did not concern the Supreme Court this week in Taueki v R [2013] NZSC 146 (17 December 2013), where at [26] and [42] the original version of s 56(1) is quoted. The central point decided here is that possession requires a power of control over the land or building [57]-[58].

Additional points are: "peaceable" possession means "possession that has been achieved other than in the context of an immediate or ongoing dispute. In brief, it is possession obtained and maintained before the employment of the physical force the use of which the person seeks to justify" [64]; and mistake is irrelevant: "[t]here is no scope for applying s 56 on the basis of beliefs (reasonable or otherwise) on the part of the defendant as to whether he or she enjoyed peaceable possession of the land, nor as to whether the other party was a trespasser."

Control in context

The Court in Taueki did not look around and borrow inspiration from the law relating to drug offences. Control is a central element of offences of, or including, possession of a drug, and of permitting the use of premises for the commission of a drug offence. Control here has been interpreted judicially to mean having the power to invite or arrange for the presence of a drug, having the power to say what will be done with a drug, or having the power to invite or exclude others from premises or to prevent the commission of a drug offence on the premises.

In Taueki the appellant did not have powers of those kinds: [22]-[25]. There is thus a consistency in the meaning of control in these diverse contexts. That is hardly surprising, as the word will be given its ordinary and natural meaning unless the legislation requires otherwise.

The Court adopted Lord Browne-Wilkinson's description of possession of land in this context as that of a person who is "dealing with the land in question as an occupying owner might have been expected to deal with it and that no-one else has done so" JA Pye (Oxford) Ltd v Graham [2002] UKHL 30, [2003] 1 AC 419 at [41], quoting from the judgment of Slade J in Powell v McFarlane (1977) 38 P & CR 452 (ChD) at 470–47; Taueki at [57].

This circumstance-dependent issue – is the defendant dealing with the land in question as an occupying owner might have been expected to deal with it? – links control to the powers of an owner, but as the Court in Taueki noted [56]: "while possession is often an incident of ownership (or other legal right), in this context, ownership of the property is not necessarily required, nor even is a claim of right, before a person will have a defence".

So there's room here for assistance from the usage of "control" in the context of drug offences. If that is correct, the material questions on the issue of possession here will be whether in the circumstances the defendant had the power to invite or exclude others from the land, or the power to say whether they could do a relevant thing while on the property.

When is a judicial development too late?

A simply-defined statutory offence may require detailed judicial development. Pending such development and final determination by the highest court the law may be unascertained and inaccessible.

Lower courts may develop the definition of an offence, and intermediate appellate courts may confirm that development, so that the law appears to be settled, and settled for some time, but suddenly the superior appellate court says no, everyone was wrong, here is what the ingredients of the offence really are.

In R v McRae, 2013 SCC 68 (6 December 2013) four judges – the trial judge and three appeal judges – had their definition of an offence overturned by seven judges of the Supreme Court.
The prosecutor had been able to appeal against the acquittal on a question of law: s 676(1)(a) of the Criminal Code. The Supreme Court ordered a retrial.

The defendant had been tried on five counts of uttering threats, an offence pursuant to s 264.1(1)(a) of the Criminal Code. This offence had been considered earlier this year but the Supreme Court then did not need to address the points raised in McRae: see R. v. O'Brien, 2013 SCC 2 (CanLII), 2013 SCC 2, [2013] 1 S.C.R. 7, mentioned briefly here on 31 January 2013.

The details of the definition of the offence as they were judicially elaborated need not detain us. The question I raise is, should the Supreme Court have ordered a retrial? There is no doubt that the power to make such an order existed. There could have been little objection (subject to the inaccessibility of unascertained law point mentioned above) to the first appeal court ordering a retrial. But given that the first appeal court was also wrong about the law, wasn't the law much more inaccessible and unascertainable than is acceptable? Shouldn't the defendant have been allowed his acquittals?

Compare the discussions of accessibility and ascertainability here on 13 March 2006, here on 9 May 2013, and here on 16 June 2013.

Common law fairness and the Evidence Act 2006[NZ]

To what extent does the Evidence Act 2006 [NZ] exclude the common law discretion to rule inadmissible evidence that was obtained, not through improper acts of officials, but through unfairness arising independently of officials?

People who can access the New Zealand Universities Law Review can find an interesting discussion of this by Don Mathieson QC, "Fair Criminal Trial and the Exclusion of 'Unfair Evidence'" (2013) 25 NZULR 739 (October 2013). Dr Mathieson analyses a Court of Appeal decision which is currently subject to a suppression order, but which the Court has allowed to be discussed in professional publications.

So I am rather constrained in what I can say about the case here, and nor should I quote much of what Dr Mathieson says. In Adams on Criminal Law – Evidence at EA30.09(9) the central point is summarised in this way:

"The Court held that when a defendant argues that evidence such as a statement has been improperly obtained by the police, admissibility of the evidence must be determined in accordance with s 30. However, when the defendant argues that, although not improperly obtained, it would nonetheless be unfair to admit evidence against the defendant, admissibility will be governed by the exercise of the Court's common law discretion, which continues after the Evidence Act 2006."

Dr Mathieson argues, in effect, that the Court's holding, summarised in the last sentence of that passage, is wrong. There is no such common law discretion, and even if there was it would now have been replaced by the provisions of the Evidence Act, in particular ss 6, 7 and 8, pursuant to either s 11(2) or s 12.

Section 12 is central to the reasoning, so I set it out here:

If there is no provision in this Act or any other enactment regulating the admission of any particular evidence or the relevant provisions deal with that question only in part, decisions about the admission of that evidence—

(a) must be made having regard to the purpose and the principles set out in sections 6, 7, and 8; and

(b) to the extent that the common law is consistent with the promotion of that purpose and those principles and is relevant to the decisions to be taken, must be made having regard to the common law.

Dr Mathieson's argument is that this replaces whatever common law there might be on a relevant topic with law that interprets the Act in a way that, to the extent permitted, has regard to the common law. The new law is not common law – in the sense of law invented by judges in an area not covered by legislation – but rather is, collectively, decisions under s 12.

Then, applying s 7 and s 8 to the evidence that was obtained by what I might call the 'non-official unfairness' in the case at hand: yes, the evidence is relevant, and no, it is not excluded pursuant to the s 8 discretion. There is no resort to any posited common law discretion.

The Court of Appeal's reasoning was (here I risk quoting [31] of the suppressed judgment):

"It would be inconsistent with the common law and the purpose of the Evidence Act which is to promote fairness to parties, to construe s 30 as excluding the common law discretion. The continued existence of the common law discretion is consistent with the purpose of promoting fairness in s 6(c) to parties, and the Court must have regard to that purpose under s 11(2). The exclusion of evidence on unfairness grounds can be seen as dealt with only "in part" (in terms of s 12)by s 30, so that decisions on the admission of evidence can still involve a consideration of what is fair to the parties, that is, irrespective of the provisions of s 30. We conclude that the common law discretion survives the Evidence Act, although s 30 governs those cases to which the section applies."


You can see that this is quite a different interpretation of the effect of s 12 than that advocated by Dr Mathieson. The "decisions about the admission of that evidence" remain, in the Court's view, common law decisions.

I wonder whether this matters, particularly where the common law on the point had been undeveloped. You could say it matters if the Act is more restrictive than the common law. The Court, developing the common law, applied by analogy such of the considerations specified in s 30 as were relevant, and concluded that the evidence was admissible. Dr Mathieson on the other hand would confine the considerations to those applicable under s 8.

A difficulty is that, pursuant to s 12, it is the "purpose and principles set out" in s 8 to which the court must "[have] regard". Section 12 does not simply apply s 8 to the issue. Identifying the relevant purposes and principles of s 8 is not a simple matter, as none are "set out". A rule is not the same thing as a principle. There are abstract concepts named in the section: "probative value", "unfairly prejudicial effect", "the proceeding", "take into account", "the right", "offer an effective defence". But the only principle apparent in s 8 is the principle that evidence must not be ruled admissible if it would be unfair to do so. Arguably this isn't even a principle, it is a rule ("must not"). But let's pretend it is a principle. Is this principle more restrictive than the common law?

But don't let my ramblings deter you from reading Dr Mathieson's splendid article. It is unfortunate that it is not more widely available.

Culpable recklessness and innocent negligence: inferences from conduct

How does a court decide what a defendant foresaw about the consequences of his acts?

The difference between foreseeing and not foreseeing consequences can be important. It is the distinction between intention or recklessness on the one hand, and negligence or blameless inadvertence on the other hand.

Some offences are offences of negligence (careless driving, carelessly discharging a firearm, and so on), and criminalisation of negligence is done by express words or clear legislative intent.

Recklessness, in contrast, is usually sufficient for liability, but again this depends on the language creating an offence.

Negligence and recklessness have their own meanings, resulting from judicial interpretation of legislation, but these too are subject to any specific enacted meanings that may apply.

In Li v Chief of Army [2013] HCA 49 (27 November 2013) recklessness as to the occurrence of circumstances was required by legislation which applied certain provisions of the Criminal Code (Cth): [19]-[22]. These circumstances were the interruption of order that was caused by the defendant's intentional acts, on a charge of creating a disturbance:

"[28] The service offence created by s 33(b) of the DFDA is therefore best construed as relevantly having two physical elements, to each of which the Criminal Code attaches a distinct fault element. The first physical element is conduct, for which the fault element is intention: it must be proved that the defence member or defence civilian charged did the act, and meant to do the act. The second physical element is the result of that conduct, for which the fault element is recklessness: it must be proved that the act resulted in a disturbance (being a non-trivial interruption of order), and that the defence member or defence civilian charged either believed that the act would result in a disturbance or was aware of a substantial risk that the act would result in a disturbance and, having regard to the circumstances known to him or her, it was unjustifiable to take that risk." [emphasis added]

So, back to the first question: how would a fact-finder decide whether the defendant was aware of the substantial risk of a disturbance (and so was reckless), as opposed to finding that he failed to be aware of a risk that a reasonable person would have been aware of (and so was merely negligent)?

It is easy to answer this when the defendant has confessed to having been aware of the risk, but what if there is no such admission?

The temptation will be to decide that if a reasonable person would have been aware of the risk, then the defendant must have been aware of it too. But this is the same as holding the defendant liable on negligence grounds, which here are insufficient.

Plainly, the fact-finder– again, in the absence of a confession – will need to identify something in the defendant's words and actions at the relevant time to support an inference that he was aware of the risk of a disturbance. In many cases this will not be difficult, but the facts of Li, at least as related in the High Court's judgment, do suggest that drawing the necessary inference here might be more difficult. The Court ordered that the conviction be quashed.

Looking into oral argument about causation

Oral argument on appeals is quite an interesting thing, as you can hear and read in relation to Burrage v United States (Docket No 12-7515, 12 November 2013).

At issue here is what distribution of heroin "resulting in" death means. Here is discussion of the case, and here is the relevant legislation; you need to read down to the penalty part to get the phrase "if death or serious bodily injury results from the use of such substance."

Was it necessary for liability that the heroin was the only cause of death? Or that it was a contributing cause of death? Or that it was not merely a contributing, but a significant cause of death? Another question was whether the death had to be a foreseeable consequence of the distribution of the drug. This turns on the extent to which the common law relating to the causation aspect of the attribution of responsibility applies to the interpretation of the words "resulting in" in this statutory context.

The appellant (called the "petitioner" in American terminology) argued that a "but for" causal connection is required: the prosecutor must prove that the death would not have occurred but for the distribution of the drug.

The victim had consumed other drugs too, and these had not been supplied by the appellant. Expert evidence was that it could not be said that the victim would have lived if the heroin had not been used. The heroin contributed to the death but could not be said to be its sole cause. To what extent, if any, is the defendant to be held responsible for the acts of strangers, including acts of the victim?

Standing back and looking at the problem in the conventional terms of common law causation, there is no great difficulty. As to the actus reus, liability requires proof that the defendant's acts were an operative contributing cause of death. This can sometimes be put as a "substantial" contributing cause. The evidence in the case must be assessed against this requirement. Liability will be negatived by an intervening act that replaces the defendant's acts as an operating cause of death.

For an intervening act in this case the defence would have to point to evidence that raised a reasonable possibility that death would have occurred without the defendant's act of supplying heroin. See, for example, the discussion of Hughes v R [2013] UKSC 56, here on 9 August 2013, Burns v The Queen [2012] HCA 35, here on 15 September 2012, Maybin v R, 2012 SCC 24, here on 22 May 2012, and R v Kennedy [2007] UKHL 38, here on 19 October 2007. In Kennedy the victim's voluntary choice to use the drug supplied by the defendant was a novus actus interveniens. These decisions were not cited in the brief filed for the petitioner (which was confined to citation of American cases; not that there is anything necessarily wrong with that).

As to mens rea, liability for the victim's death usually requires gross negligence at least.
These conventional considerations are merely a background for interpreting the relevant legislation. The legislature can be taken to be aware of the existing law, and to intend to change it only by clear provision: Hughes, above. The policy supporting the creation of the statutory offence must be identified if the plain words of the enactment are ambiguous.

The opening remarks of counsel for the appellant in Burrage show a departure from the ordinary legal meaning of cause, claiming that "but for" cause is the usual requirement. Would it have been better to refer to the evidence first, arguing that it supported intervening act? Justice Ginsburg began the questions from the bench by referring to the hypothetical that invites consideration of intervening acts. Justice Scalia makes this clear with his first comments, emphasising that the expert evidence was that the victim may have died without using the heroin.

The argument proceeds with discussion of hypotheticals and with counsel insisting on a "but for" interpretation of causation. Hypotheticals are used to raise policy considerations. What policy supported the appellant's argument and made it more acceptable than the policy that supported the opposing argument? The three-drops-of-poison hypothetical raises the question of the appropriate boundaries – in this legislative context - of the danger to the victim that is attributable to the defendant's conduct. This was alluded to by Scalia J in his reference to "the scope of the risk".

The trouble with a "but for" requirement is that it easily reduces to a situation where no-one is guilty, as where poisoners independently administer a sub-lethal dose which cumulatively kills the victim. And the trouble with a substantial contributing cause requirement is that others may have already given a lethal dose when the defendant administers what is also a lethal dose; as the victim would die anyway, has the defendant caused the death, assuming he has not accelerated it? Is it acceptable that in this latter example the defendant might only be liable for the attempt to kill?

Sometimes judges play with numbers when the law prefers words, as happened with the questioning of counsel for the United States (the "respondent") by Kagan J: how much more likely than other causes does the defendant's acts have to make the victim's death – 50%, 30%? Scalia J had the same difficulty with what is a "substantial" contributing factor to the death: "10 percent, 20 percent ... 5 percent, what?" That is like demanding that the expression "beyond reasonable doubt" be put into numbers, something that the law does not currently do, as Kagan J pointed out.

Anyway, this transcript and recording is an interesting illustration of how argument on appeal can develop. Both counsel demonstrated significant expertise in handling questions from the bench.

Guidance for oral arguments is given in "Guide for counsel in cases to be argued before the Supreme Court of the United States" (Clerk of the Court, Supreme Court of the United States, October term 2013). Much of the advice on oral argument in that document will be of assistance to counsel in other courts.

A diligent and simple people

Two recent cases from the Supreme Court of Canada:

Diligence and freshness

In R v Hay, 2013 SCC 61 (8 November 2013) on the issue of the admissibility of fresh evidence [63], the Court held that lack of diligence by counsel in looking into the availability of the evidence for trial would not determine whether the interests of justice required that the evidence be adduced. That the evidence was credible on an important issue at trial, and that its absence could reasonably be expected to have affected the result, were sufficient to meet the interests of justice criterion in a serious criminal case. It has long been recognised that the diligence requirement is not applied as strictly in criminal cases as it is in civil cases [64].

In this case the lack of diligence was not something for which counsel could be criticised. It simply hadn't occurred to any of the experienced counsel, either in the trial or on the appeal to the Court of Appeal, that testing of the relevant kind could have been carried out [66].
I suppose that in determining what is due diligence, the standards of diligence used in practice by experienced lawyers must be the criterion. Failing to explore an avenue of inquiry that wouldn't reasonably have been explored is not lack of due diligence. So is this case really an example of the diligence requirement not being applied as strictly in this criminal case as it would have been in a civil case?

 
Computer privacy: different strokes for similar folks

We in New Zealand think of Canadians as a decent, simple people, nurtured on seal meat and loyal to the Queen. But if our laws are any indication, we can have contrasting values.
In R v Vu, 2013 SCC 60 (7 November 2013) privacy interests in the contents of a computer were such that without specific authorisation in a warrant a search and seizure of the computer was illegal. On balance, however, the challenged evidence was admissible.

Different law on computer searches may well apply in other jurisdictions, depending on legislation. For example, in New Zealand a rather relaxed approach is taken: s 110(h) of the Search and Surveillance Act 2012 allows access of a computer system in the course of execution of a search warrant if any relevant material "may" be found therein.

Information doesn't have a special privacy value just because it is stored electronically, as opposed to being written on paper. At least, that is the assumption behind laws such as that in s 110. The Supreme Court of Canada takes a different view of electronic information, [24] per Cromwell J for the Court:

"The privacy interests implicated by computer searches are markedly different from those at stake in searches of receptacles such as cupboards and filing cabinets. Computers potentially give police access to vast amounts of information that users cannot control, that they may not even be aware of or may have chosen to discard and which may not be, in any meaningful sense, located in the place of the search. These factors, understood in light of the purposes of s. 8 of the Charter, call for specific pre-authorization in my view."

The reasons for this conclusion are elaborated at [40]-[45].

One might compare the Canadian analysis of the privacy values attaching to information in computers with that of the New Zealand Law Commission whose Report, "Search and Surveillance Powers" NZLC R 97 (June 2007), was the basis for the current legislation. The Commission placed emphasis on "functional equivalence" [7.12], which permitted this conclusion [7.16]:

"We have therefore considered whether it is desirable to create a more stringent search and seizure regime for intangible material. However, we have concluded that this would introduce additional hurdles for law enforcement agencies when collecting a significant proportion of evidential material that is created in intangible form. If it is harder for agencies to access intangible material than tangible information, this will also create an incentive for criminal organisations to use an electronic medium to conduct or record criminal activity wherever possible. The net effect would make it more difficult to investigate criminal activity."

No special form of search warrant is required [7.18] because enforcement agencies may not know in advance of a search whether information is in a tangible or an intangible form.

Perverse acquittals

A conviction can only be "according to law", but an acquittal need not be.

We don't often mention the jury's power to return a perverse verdict acquitting a defendant. It is probably best not to mention it at all. Sometimes it is put in a way that is obviously wrong, as when a self-represented defendant submitted on appeal that it is the jury's

"... right and their primary and permanent duty, to, judge the justice and rightness of the law, and to hold all laws invalid, that are, in their opinion, unjust or oppressive, and all persons guiltless in violating or resisting the execution of such laws."

Mckee v R [2013] NZSC 122 (14 November 2013) at [8]. Naturally the Court rejected this submission.

A problem with this sort of broadside submission is that it will provoke a sweeping reaction. The Court said [9]:

"This submission is misconceived. A jury's duty is to apply the law in accordance with the judge's instructions."

More accurately, a jury's duty is to ensure that if a verdict is guilty it results from applying the law in accordance with the judge's instructions.

If the jury has applied the law in accordance with the judge's instructions, the defendant cannot appeal saying that the jury shouldn't have done that. Perversity of verdict is a matter entirely for the jury and cannot be taken up as ammunition for the defendant on appeal.

Nor can a prosecutor appeal against an acquittal on the grounds that it was perverse.

Obviously, I must point to some authority in support of my criticism that the Supreme Court was not accurate at [9]. In R v Shipley (1784), 4 Dougl. 73, 99 E.R. 774, at p. 824 Lord Mansfield said:

"It is the duty of the Judge, in all cases of general justice, to tell the jury how to do right, though they have it in their power to do wrong, which is a matter entirely between God and their own consciences."

This was cited with approval by the Supreme Court of Canada in R v Krieger [2006] SCC 47, discussed here on 27 October 2006 where I also referred to the views of Lord Devlin and Geoffrey Robertson QC.

To those dicta I add Lord Judge's speech "Jury Trials" Judicial Studies Board lecture, Belfast, 16 November 2010, available at http://www.judiciary.gov.uk/Resources/JCO/Documents/Speeches/speech-lcj-jury-trials-jsb-lecture-belfast.pdf. Lord Judge alluded there (p 2) to the power of the jury to return a perverse verdict:

"But even in a democracy, it is possible for the legislature to create potentially oppressive and unjust criminal laws. The very fact that such laws will be exposed to the scrutiny of a jury in the event of a prosecution may – and for my own purposes "may" is enough – cause the legislature to pause and reflect on whether it is wise to enact such a law. It is one small aspect of the very subtle relationships which govern the operation of our society and the well being of the community."

So yes, subtlety is everything on this point. But whether a sweeping statement like that at [9] of McKee can really abolish the power of a jury to perversely acquit may be doubted. Can the perversity of a jury's acquittal ever be eliminated? The prosecutor would need a right to appeal on the grounds that an acquittal was unreasonable, and obtaining that would be a rather ambitious law reform project, at least in a robust democracy.

[Update: In 2015 Lord Judge again referred to perverse verdicts as constitutional safeguards against barbaric laws in a discussion with Chief Justice Roberts on the 800^th anniversary of the sealing of the first issue of Magna Carta, available here on YouTube: view from time setting 37:58.]

For the notebook ...

One never knows when the following recent decisions of the High Court of Australia and of the Supreme Court of Canada may be useful:

Judges and witnesses

For some observations on how a prosecutor's decision not to call a witness may be dealt with by the judge at trial, see Diehm v Director of Public Prosecutions (Nauru) [2013] HCA 42 (30 October 2013) at [63]-[65], and on when a judge may call a witness, at [74].

These dicta may be useful in interpreting statutory powers that are not elaborated, for example s 113(3) of the Criminal Procedure Act 2011 [NZ].

Provocation

And for discussion of the partial defence of provocation in Canada, see R v Cairney, 2013 SCC 55 (25 October 2013), on the requirement for there to be an air of reality to the defence before it has to be considered, and R v Pappas, 2013 SCC 56 (25 October 2013) where although there was an air of reality to the objective element of the defence (that the conduct was capable of being provocative), there was not in respect of the subjective element (that it deprived the defendant of self-control).

Repeal of provocation as a partial defence has resulted in cases on provocation being of limited interest in some jurisdictions. However, provocation remains a mitigating factor, and a relevant question may be whether it has the same elements in that role as it had as a partial defence.

Oyez!

Of peripheral interest to criminal lawyers are a couple of recent decisions of the United Kingdom Supreme Court.

Prisoners and voting rights

Chester, R (on the application of) v Secretary of State for Justice [2013] UKSC 63 (16 October 2013) illustrates how an issue that should be resolved in favour of the applicant may not require a remedy. Previous decisions [18] of the ECtHR, including an appeal from the United Kingdom, had held that denying prisoners the right to vote is a breach of the Convention. The UK legislature is looking at this [19], and the Supreme Court therefore did not see that a declaration of incompatibility was necessary on the appeals in this case.

The relationship between national courts and the Strasbourg court was considered [27], and the Supreme Court rejected the respondent's submission that the difference here was over "some fundamental substantive or procedural aspect of our law" sufficient to justify departure from Strasbourg jurisprudence.

Indeed, the issue of removing prisoners' voting rights was [35] not "fundamental to a stable democracy and legal system such as the United Kingdom enjoys."

Ah yes, thank you Joni Mitchell ...

"Don't it always seem to go

That you don't know what you've got

Till it's gone

They paved paradise

And put up a parking lot"

That is, is the moral value of having the right to vote equivalent to the value of not having the right to vote?

It is difficult to stir up much public discussion about whether prisoners should be deprived of the right to vote. In New Zealand the Electoral Act was recently amended to further strengthen existing restrictions on prisoners' voting rights, so that now anyone detained in prison pursuant to a sentence of imprisonment imposed after 16 December 2010 does not have the right to vote. For an outline of the reasons this might not be appropriate, see the Report of the Law and Order Committee on the Electoral (Disqualification of Convicted Prisoners) Amendment Bill, particularly the New Zealand Labour Party minority view.

Update: The High Court, in Taylor v Attorney-General [2015] NZHC 1706 (24 July 2015) has declared that:

“Section 80(1)(d) of the Electoral Act 1993 (as amended by the Electoral (Disqualification of Sentenced Prisoners) Amendment Act 2010) is inconsistent with the right to vote affirmed and guaranteed in s 12(a) of the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990, and cannot be justified under s 5 of that Act.”

Further update: On 9 November 2018 the Supreme Court confirmed the existence of the High Court's power to make a declaration of inconsistency with the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990, and has dismissed the Attorney-General's argument to the contrary: Attorney-General v Taylor [2018] NZSC 104.

Another further update: On 25 February 2020 the government introduced a Bill to give prisoners serving less than three years' imprisonment the right to vote.

Oral hearings

Sometimes judicial decisions may be made "on the papers" filed by the parties, without the need for an oral hearing of argument. In Osborn v The Parole Board [2013] UKSC 61 (9 October 2013) the Supreme Court considered when an oral hearing would be required by common law procedural fairness.

The Court's press summary sets out the essential points, and they are also summarised in the judgment at [2].

See also R v Parole Board, ex parte Smith and West [2005] UKHL 1 (27 January 2005), discussed here on 31 January 2005 and see para [14] of Osborne for administrative developments, R (on application of Hammond) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2005] UKHL 69 (1 December 2005), discussed here on 5 December 2005, and Ebanks v R (Cayman Islands) [2006] UKPC 16 (27 March 2006), discussed here on 28 March 2006.

Significantly, the tribunal must "guard against any temptation to refuse oral hearings as a means of saving time, trouble and expense" [2(viii)].

Appellate judges who have the power to deal on the papers with applications for leave to appeal will, no doubt, not need to be reminded of these considerations.

Unnecessarily attacking the fundamentals

Even the most robust of the fundamentals of the criminal law can be modified by statute. When that happens, the fundamental should retain its strength in all cases to which the statutory modification does not apply.

But sometimes a statute is not explicit on whether it modifies a fundamental of the criminal law, while its purpose seems to require such a modification. If a court accepts that this sort of statute does indeed modify a fundamental of the criminal law, there is a danger that it will support its conclusion by pointing to weaknesses in the fundamental. Those weaknesses may later be used in support of interpretations of other statutes to override the now weakened fundamental.

To bring these considerations into focus, consider Lee v New South Wales Crime Commission [2013] HCA 39 (9 October 2013). The relevant fundamental of the criminal law was the principle that the prosecution must discharge the onus of proof and cannot compel the defendant to give evidence to help discharge that onus: [176] per Kiefel J dissenting.

Lee concerns the civil procedure, under the Criminal Assets Recovery Act 1990 (NSW) (the "CAR Act") of compulsory examination of a person to establish whether assets were probably obtained through serious crime. The examinee was also subject to criminal proceedings, and this gave rise to the issue whether the examination should be delayed until the trial had been concluded, so as not to give the prosecution an unfair advantage.

This sort of issue has arisen before: X7 v Australian Crime Commission [2013] HCA 29 (26 June 2013), discussed here on 27 June 2013. In that case the conclusion reached by the majority (Hayne, Bell and Kiefel JJ) was the opposite of that reached by the majority in Lee (French CJ, Crennan, Gageler and Keane JJ). The new players are Gageler and Keane JJ, who delivered a joint judgment in Lee).

A focus on the judgment of Gageler and Keane JJ should therefore reveal the points that carried the day in Lee. The appellants' argument, as refocused in oral submissions, is summarised at [304]-[305]. The inherent prejudice in allowing an examination while criminal charges are pending is, according to this analysis [305]:

" ... the answers given and documents produced by the person in the examination would inevitably constrain the instructions on which the legal representatives of the person could act in the criminal proceedings: the legal representatives would be ethically bound not to lead evidence or cross-examine or make submissions to suggest a version of the facts which contradicted that given by their client on oath in the examination."

The assumption here is that the legal advisers know what the examinee had said during the examination. Normally, a client does not give instructions on oath, and a client's prior statements are not given on oath. A difficulty would only arise if answers given on oath at examination became admissible against the examinee as defendant at trial. So the constraint on instructions referred to at [305] can be avoided if answers at examination are not disclosed to the legal representative in the criminal proceedings, and if those answers are not admissible to rebut the defendant's defence at trial.

However instead of adopting this sort of harm-containment approach, Gageler and Keane JJ took a swipe at the principle of construction (that the legislature does not intend to alter the law beyond the immediate scope and object of a statute [308]) that fundamental rights are not altered by a statute unless that is expressly done. They adopted Gleeson CJ's view that in modern times the strength of that principle will vary with context [312]. But it is not necessary to qualify the strength of this principle of construction, to make the point that the clear intention of a statute may be to alter fundamental rights.

In addition to weakening the principle of construction, Gageler and Keane JJ weakened the fundamental principle of the criminal law that a defendant cannot be compelled by process of law to admit the offence, by saying it is "not monolithic: it is neither singular nor immutable" [318]. Some statutory inroads on the right to silence do not mean that the right is weakened where it does apply. It was unnecessary for the judges to suggest this weakening.

The more conventional part of this judgment addresses directly the interpretation of the CAR Act [326]-[335] and reaches the, no doubt sound, conclusion that [335]:

"The power conferred by s 31D(1)(a) does not authorise the making or implementation of an examination order where to do so would give rise to a real risk of interference with the administration of justice including by interfering with the right of the person to be examined (or any other person) to a fair trial. For reasons already given, however, the making of such an order does not give rise to a real risk of interference with the administration of justice by reason only that the subject-matter of the examination will overlap with the subject-matter of criminal proceedings that have commenced but that have not been completed."

And importantly, as to the way the discretion to order an examination should be exercised, [337]:

"The reasons for judgment of the Court of Appeal do not suggest that the CAR Act indicates a legislative intention that the Supreme Court should allow any proceedings under that Act to proceed if the circumstances of the case, other than the mere pendency of criminal proceedings against the examinee, were such as to reveal a real, as opposed to a speculative or theoretical, risk that the administration of justice would be adversely affected. The exigencies of criminal proceedings might well afford a ground for a refusal to make an order under s 31D(1)(a). For example, the timing of an application may be such as to prejudice the fair trial of a criminal charge because of the likely disruption of the preparation for, or conduct of, a trial which is imminent. As Beazley JA specifically noted [606], that possibility was not raised before the Court of Appeal as a consideration having a claim upon the discretion in the circumstances of this case. Had it been raised, it would obviously be a consideration which might properly be taken into account in exercising the discretion."

This conclusion could have been reached without suggesting that the rule of construction or the right to silence are in any general sense weakened these days. Lee required merely a conventional exercise in statutory interpretation.

A similar position exists under comparable New Zealand legislation: Criminal Proceeds (Recovery) Act 2009, s 107. In each case a careful analysis has to be made of the matters which the Commissioner wishes to examine the defendant about, and the likely impact of answering those matters on the subsequent criminal trial: Commissioner of Police v Wei [2012] NZCA 279 at [40].

Fresh evidence

Fresh evidence was a central topic in two decisions delivered within hours on opposite sides of the planet yesterday.

In refusing leave to appeal against sentence, the New Zealand Supreme Court addressed a submission that the applicant's cooperation with the authorities was a new fact relevant to penalty: Bland v R [2013] NZSC 93 (7 October 2013). The fact could have been used in submissions to the Court of Appeal, but was not, but after that appeal Mr Bland did give assistance to the authorities. He then asked the Court of Appeal to recall its dismissal of his sentence appeal so that this new fact could be considered. The Court of Appeal dismissed that application.

The Supreme Court said [6(a)]: "This Court does not usually entertain criminal appeals on grounds that, although available, were not raised before the Court of Appeal", citing Mankelow v R [2007] NZSC 57 at [2].

These Supreme Court decisions are dismissals of applications for leave to appeal and are not required to be given in detail: "The reasons may be stated briefly, and may be stated in general terms only": s 16(2) Supreme Court Act 2003.

The risk with these brief reasons is that they may be cited as if they were precedents, as with Mankelow, so that matters of policy are wrongly treated as legal rules. And legal rules may be stated inaccurately, in the effort to be brief, and this creates a risk of misapplication of the law in subsequent cases. This is illustrated in Bland at [6(b)], where the Court diminished the value of Mr Bland's assistance to the authorities, on the basis that it was "self-serving rather than motivated by a genuine desire to cooperate".

Motive for the giving of assistance has never been relevant. Motives for mitigating actions seldom are: for example, credit for early guilty pleas is given without asking whether they were motivated by remorse, and remorse has its own status as an independent mitigating factor: s 9(2)(f) of the Sentencing Act 2002. In R v Stark [2006] NZCA 190 the Court said at [10]:

" ... It is necessary to weigh the assistance given with the type and seriousness of the offending, the sentence that otherwise would be appropriate, the nature and value of the assistance, the situations in which it is given and the consequences. In the end the sentence must be that which is appropriate in light of all of the circumstances including any assistance to the authorities."

There is no mention of the motivation for the assistance in those considerations. Assistance has its own weight, and remorse may be an additional circumstance but its absence should not disentitle an offender from advancing assistance as a mitigating factor.

Still, the Court's real reason for refusing leave seems to be that Mr Bland's assistance to the authorities was of no particular consequence in the prosecution of co-offenders [6(c)]. Any appropriate sentence reduction would have been minimal and the sentence that was imposed was not outside the range of sentences available to the judge. There was not, therefore, a "substantial miscarriage of justice", which is one of the ways a case may come within the qualifying requirement that it should be in "the interests of justice" for the appeal to be heard: Supreme Court Act, s 13(2)(b). The phrase "substantial miscarriage of justice" is not defined.

Several hours later, in London, the Privy Council in Lundy v The Queen (New Zealand) [2013] UKPC 28 (7 October 2013) ordered a retrial because new evidence suggested that the appellant's convictions were unsafe [151], [164].

It is inappropriate for me to say much about this case, pending a retrial. However of legal interest is the Board's clarification of the requirements for the allowing of appeals against convictions on the basis of fresh evidence. There are three tests, to be applied in sequence [120]:

"The Board considers that the proper basis on which admission of fresh evidence should be decided is by the application of a sequential series of tests. If the evidence is not credible, it should not be admitted. If it is credible, the question then arises whether it is fresh in the sense that it is evidence which could not have been obtained for the trial with reasonable diligence. If the evidence is both credible and fresh, it should generally be admitted unless the court is satisfied at that stage that, if admitted, it would have no effect on the safety of the conviction. If the evidence is credible but not fresh, the court should assess its strength and its potential impact on the safety of the conviction. If it considers that there is a risk of a miscarriage of justice if the evidence is excluded, it should be admitted, notwithstanding that the evidence is not fresh."

Here, "a risk of a miscarriage of justice" refers to the safety of the conviction.

Lundy was an appeal under what we can now call the old law. Now, the criteria for allowing an appeal against conviction are enacted in the Criminal Procedure Act 2011 ("CPA"), s 232. They do not specifically refer to fresh evidence. Cases of fresh evidence must therefore come within the phrase "miscarriage of justice", which is defined in subsection (4) as:

"... miscarriage of justice means any error, irregularity, or occurrence in or in relation to or affecting the trial that—

(a) has created a real risk that the outcome of the trial was affected; or

(b) has resulted in an unfair trial or a trial that was a nullity."

The obtaining of new evidence can hardly be called an error or irregularity, but it may be "an occurrence ... affecting the trial". It might, also at a pinch, be put within the meaning of "an unfair trial" in the sense that the trial that happened involved assessments of the weight of items of evidence that have since been shown to have been inappropriate. The trial, although it seemed to have been fair when it was conducted, is now shown to have been unfair.

These ways of including cases of fresh evidence within the grounds for allowing appeals against conviction are a bit forced, and one might say that it was a legislative oversight to omit specific reference to fresh evidence in s 232. Certainly, the CPA does permit an appellate court to hear evidence (ss 334 and 335), and the Criminal Procedure Rules 2012 make provision for adducing fresh evidence: r 8.8, in terms which make it clear that miscarriage of justice encompasses fresh evidence.

The Board did not say that the trial had been unfair. It was not considering s 232, and Lundy should not be applied as if it were authoritative on the meaning of that section, but it would not be inconsistent to say that the better interpretation is that fresh evidence is an occurrence in relation to the trial.

But there is good reason to conclude that a substantively fair trial is one where the evidence is weighed properly, and that retrospective appreciation of unfairness in the light of fresh evidence is grounds under s 232 for allowing an appeal against conviction.

There are two more interesting aspects of Lundy that I can mention.

First, the Privy Council seized jurisdiction – without creating a precedent – just in the interests of being sensible [11]. Strictly, it is a breach of the rule of law for a court to do something and say it is not creating a precedent: compare John Gardner, Law as a Leap of Faith (OUP, Oxford, 2012) at 210 (reviewed by me here on 6 July 2013).

Secondly, the Board ordered a retrial rather than remit the case to the Court of Appeal. There is nothing particularly unusual in doing that, but the difficulties that have been experienced when appeal judges attempt to reach verdicts perhaps suggest that the Board considers that the approach recently favoured – under what is now the old law – by the New Zealand Supreme Court in Matenga v R [2009] NZSC 18, discussed here on 9 July 2009, is inappropriate. It is likely that under the new law (s 232) – see the digression by me on 19 August 2013 – the Matenga approach will not apply. Unfortunately however, the Board endorsed what it took to be the Matenga approach: [143]-[151].

On this topic the Board appears to be glossing over difficulties. How does an appeal court decide whether a conviction is safe? Does it (1) decide for itself whether there is a reasonable doubt about the appellant's guilt? Does it (2) decide what a jury would have concluded had the error at trial not occurred? Does it (3) do a bit of each – deciding for itself until it gets stuck, in which event asks what a jury would have done? These have all been tried at various times. Delivering the judgment of the Board, Lord Kerr endorsed [146] his own judgment, dissenting on the facts, in Taylor v R [2013] UKPC 8 (discussed here on 19 March 2013) taking the third (called the Pendleton) approach, but which was put by the majority in Taylor [20] as one of asking whether the jury might reasonably have come to a different conclusion as to whether the appellant was guilty; this, confusingly, looks like the second approach.

My own view is that this is rather silly. The focus in these sorts of appeals should always have been on whether the error at trial could have significantly affected the weight given to contested evidence on an issue central to the logic of the prosecution case. Under the new law, s 232(4)(a) is consistent with this, using the phrase "a real risk that the outcome of the trial was affected". Unfortunately, it is arguable that this phrase is also consistent with the other approaches, and it would be sad – so sad – if Lundy were taken to be an endorsement of the survival of Matenga in the new statutory environment.

Reasonable grounds to suspect

Now that we have search on "reasonable grounds to suspect" the commission of an offence, a lesser threshold than the reasonable belief that had previously been required – and that had been replaced by stealth – it is relevant to consider the definition of reasonable suspicion developed and applied by the Supreme Court of Canada: R v Chehil, 2013 SCC 49 (27 September 2013) and R v MacKenzie, 2013 SCC 50 (27 September 2013).

There is no substitute for reading the judgments, but the essentials, set out in Chehil, are:

• The central question is: Is the totality of the circumstances, including the specific characteristics of the suspect, the contextual factors, and the offence suspected, sufficient to reach the threshold of reasonable suspicion? [39]
• "Suspicion" is an expectation that the targeted individual is possibly engaged in some criminal activity. A "reasonable" suspicion means something more than a mere suspicion and something less than a belief based upon reasonable and probable grounds. [26, citing Binnie J in R v Kang-Brown, a case discussed here on 28 April 2008]
• Reasonable suspicion is a lower standard than reasonable belief, as it engages the reasonable possibility, rather than probability, of crime. As a result, when applying the reasonable suspicion standard, reviewing judges must be cautious not to conflate it with the more demanding reasonable and probable grounds standard. [28]
• The reasonable suspicion standard addresses the possibility of uncovering criminality, and not a probability of doing so. [32]
• The constellation of facts must be based in the evidence, tied to the individual, and capable of supporting a logical inference of criminal behaviour. If the link between the constellation and criminality cannot be established by way of a logical inference, the Crown must lead evidence to connect the circumstances to criminality. This evidence may be empirical or statistical, or it may be based upon the investigating officer's training and experience. [46]
• An officer's training and experience may provide an objective experiential, as opposed to empirical, basis for grounding reasonable suspicion. However, this is not to say that hunches or intuition grounded in an officer's experience will suffice, or that deference is owed to a police officer's view of the circumstances based on his training or experience in the field. A police officer's educated guess must not supplant the rigorous and independent scrutiny demanded by the reasonable suspicion standard.[47]
• While a trial judge is owed deference in relation to his factual findings, whether those factual findings support reasonable suspicion is a question of law, and as such is reviewable on the correctness standard. [60]

And, applying these principles in MacKenzie, the Court emphasised:

• In assessing whether a case for reasonable suspicion has been made out, the analysis of objective reasonableness should be conducted through the lens of a reasonable person standing in the shoes of the police officer. [63]
• The hallmark of reasonable suspicion, as distinguished from mere suspicion, is that "a sincerely held subjective belief is insufficient" to support the former (Kang-Brown, at para. 75, per Binnie J., citing P. Sankoff and S. Perrault, "Suspicious Searches: What's so Reasonable About Them?" (1999), 24 C.R. (5th) 123, at p. 125). Rather, as Karakatsanis J. observes in Chehil [26], reasonable suspicion must be grounded in "objectively discernible facts, which can then be subjected to independent judicial scrutiny". [41]
• Exculpatory, common, neutral, or equivocal information should not be discarded when assessing a constellation of factors. However, the test for reasonable suspicion will not be stymied when the factors which give rise to it are supportive of an innocent explanation. We are looking here at possibilities, not probabilities. Are the facts objectively indicative of the possibility of criminal behaviour in light of the totality of the circumstances? If so, the objective component of the test will have been met. If not, the inquiry is at an end. [72]

Giving "reasonable suspicion" as precise a definition as is possible runs counter to a suggestion that the statutory scheme requiring reasonable grounds to suspect the commission of a qualifying offence and reasonable grounds to believe that evidence will be found in the search creates "a regime of relativity: the differentiation simply means that above a minimum floor, more is required in relation to the location of evidence at the target place than in relation to the commission of a crime … [with] a moderated and relativistic interpretation of the thresholds."

Chehil also discusses the use of profiles [39], rejecting it as a basis for suspicion. Here the judicial reasoning is perhaps politically correct, if too subtle, if profiles are based on experience.

MacKenzie mentions facts such as nervousness, red eyes, and erratic driving. The Court split 5-4 on the facts in this case, perhaps illustrating how, notwithstanding the utmost care in being clear about the criterion of reasonable suspicion, its application to particular facts can be controversial.

The difficulties are apparent from this extract from my Misuse of Drugs text, para 1406(a) (citing cases not available online):

For an illustration of analysis of testimony asserting indicia of drug use, see R v Herlund 28/5/08, Duffy J, HC Auckland CRI-2006-004-21413. Here, a suspect's nervousness in police presence lacked significance when it was explained by his being on active charges concerning drug dealing (at [81]), and her Honour emphasised that it is necessary to tie grounds for search to the present occasion, so as to avoid subjecting suspicious looking people, or those known to have drug histories, to a lower standard for search (at [83], applying R v Anderson [2005] 21 CRNZ 393 at [33]). This is not to say that police knowledge that a suspect has active drugs related charges is to be ignored, for in the same case Duffy J held that such knowledge, coupled with the suspect's withdrawal of his consent to a search — upon the discovery of a P pipe in his pocket — did provide proper grounds for a further search: at [58]. This withdrawal of consent was likened to Mr Carroll's [R v Carroll 21/5/04, Rodney Hansen J, HC Auckland CRI–2003-004-41192] effort to conceal the cigarette packet: at [61].

But assertion of rights is not properly a basis for reasonable suspicion, as was stated in Chehil at [44]:

"Nor should the exercise of Charter rights, such as the right to remain silent or to walk away from questioning made outside the context of a detention, provide grounds for reasonable suspicion. These rights become meaningless to the extent that they are capable of forming the basis of reasonable suspicion. Individuals should not have to sacrifice privacy to exercise Charter rights."

[Update:] As this is an oft-visited posting, I should add that the Canadian definition of belief is not universally accepted. Instead of being a high level of confidence, it can be defined as thinking something is the case. If you are thinking of what belief means, without looking for a distinction from suspicion, then indeed you might think that a belief is a high level of confidence in something. But once you have to distinguish between belief and suspicion it usually makes more sense to apply the "suspect ... may, believe ... is" construction. That will be so unless an enactment itself has a "believe ... may" usage, in which case believe must mean thinking something is highly likely. The terms must always be construed in their context, subject to enacted definitions, if there are any. The "suspect ... may, believe ... is" interpretation makes for law that is more readily predictable in its application, than saying belief is a high level of likelihood, and it works against an arbitrary application of the law.

Ethnicity, deprivation, and manifest inadequacy of sentence

In the absence of legislation requiring special consideration at sentencing for the ethnicity of the offender, the relevance of social deprivation is the same for all offenders: Bugmy v The Queen [2013] HCA 37 (2 October 2013) at [37].

Where an offender's abuse of alcohol is relevant to the commission of the offence and is a reflection of the environment in which the offender was raised, it may be taken into account as a mitigating factor [38], as also it may be if the offender's background would make imprisonment particularly burdensome [39]. This is because all material facts must be taken into account in all sentencing decisions.

However the weight to be given to circumstances arising from deprivation may vary according to the purpose of punishment that is being considered at each stage of the exercise of determining the appropriate sentence [44]. Sentence reduction arising from circumstances of deprivation, like that arising from mental illness, is not inevitable [47].

A court of final appeal is not a sentencing court, and if it identifies an error in principle it is likely to remit the case for reconsideration by the appellate court that is responsible for oversight of sentencing decisions, cf [49] and see [60] of Munda, below.

Munda v Western Australia [2013] HCA 38 (2 October 2013) addresses the relevance of previous sentencing decisions in determining whether a present sentence is manifestly inadequate, referring at [39] to Hili v The Queen [2010] HCA 45 (discussed here on 10 December 2010), and holding that reference to comparable cases may be an indication of inadequacy but, because the demonstration of an existing range of sentences does not establish that that range is correct, it is not determinative. Also relevant are the maximum penalty and the seriousness of the particular offence. (Bell J dissented on whether the sentence here had been manifestly inadequate.)

Also in Munda the Court approved [43] the principle that "[it is wrong] to reduce the weight to be given to general deterrence in circumstances where alcohol-fuelled violence is endemic in the community generally, even if not sufficiently deterred in fact by the prospect of imprisonment" (quoting McLure P in the Court of Appeal in Munda).

The prospect of retribution being exacted in the community was raised and although the point didn't have to be decided in Munda the Court strongly hinted that this should be irrelevant [61]-[63], because vendettas must be discouraged, punishment is meted out by the state, and offenders should not be given a choice as to the mode of their punishment.

There is also some discussion in Mundy of the residual discretion of an appellate court to decline to increase a sentence that is manifestly inadequate, particularly to avoid double punishment or interference with rehabilitation, but subject to the need to avoid the manifest injustice of upholding an inadequate sentence [64]-[78].

Compulsion and willingness

I should add some comments to the summary of Akulue v R posted here on 19 September 2013.

Affirmative defences

Akulue concerns an affirmative defence. That is, a defence that is pleaded in answer to a proven allegation of actus reus and mens rea. The defendant in advancing an affirmative defence is saying, "Yes, if it is proved that I did the prohibited thing (or that I omitted to do what I had a legal duty to do) and that I had the proscribed state of mind, I am nevertheless not responsible because of these additional circumstances." Indeed, the defendant will almost always be conceding that he did the prohibited thing, or omitted to perform the obligation, with the proscribed state of mind.

And Akulue is about one affirmative defence: compulsion, a codified form of necessity. Another codified form of necessity is self-defence and defence of another. But in compulsion the threatener's objective is the commission of the offence in respect of which the defence is subsequently advanced:
R v Ryan, 2013 SCC 3 (noted here on 31 January 2013). The Supreme Court in Akulue was referring only to compulsion when it said [29] that the legislation is intended to "codify exclusively the circumstances in which compulsion by threats of harm from another person provides a defence, leaving only other circumstances of necessity to the common law." That is to say, necessity in the form of force of nature, act of god, or other overwhelming force not originating in another person, may be a defence, although the defendant will be expected to demonstrate fortitude (if anyone is not thinking about R v Dudley and Stephens, where a defence of necessity failed, they should go back to law school).

When threats negative mens rea

In contrast to affirmative defences are disputes about the existence of elements of an offence. A contention that specified circumstances cast doubt on the existence of an element of an offence, is not strictly speaking a "defence", although it is common to say that the person's defence was that he did not do a prohibited thing, or omit to do a legally required thing, or that he did not have a required state of mind. This usage of the term "defence" is just a convenient way of describing why a charge was denied.

Usually an intention, however reluctantly it may be entertained, is still an intention. Threats do not usually negative mens rea. Recklessness is also usually a sufficient state of mind for liability, and, however it may be defined, it is not negated by a hope that the proscribed consequences will not occur. But a few offences require more than intention.

Possession

There is some authority for the proposition that an element of the offence of possession of a controlled drug is a willingness to exercise control over that drug: R v McIntyre 9/3/79, CA94/77, Warner v Metropolitan Police Commissioner [1969] 2 AC 256; [1968] 2 All ER 356 (HL) per Lord Morris at pp 296, 375 referring to the need for the defendant to be "assenting" to being in control of the drug. This willingness is an additional element to that of animus possidendi, as an intention to exercise control is sometimes called. The intention must be willingly entertained.

Willingness to exercise control over a drug may be negated by threats of dire consequences for failure to do so, as was the position in McIntyre. There, the threats of physical harm would not have satisfied the requirements of the affirmative defence of compulsion, because they lacked immediacy, but the Court of Appeal held that they did negate the element of willingness, which it described as a "voluntary assumption of control" over the drug.

Does Akulue change this?

The offences alleged in Akulue – importing methamphetamine and conspiring to supply methamphetamine - were not offences of possession, and they did not, as far as is currently known, have elements of willingness to exercise a relevant power. A defendant can participate in an importation of a drug without ever having had possession of it, and a person can agree to commit an offence even if he is reluctant to enter that agreement. Usually, mere reluctance does not negate an element of an offence.

It is possible that the offence of permitting premises to be used for the commission of a drug offence is another offence that has an element of willingness. Does one "permit" unwillingly? A defendant must do what is reasonable to prevent the offending - R v Sweeney [1982] 2 NZLR 229 (CA) – but arguably, reasonableness will be judged in the context of circumstances that may have negated the defendant's willingness.

So, Akulue is about the affirmative defence of compulsion, not about those rare offences where willingness is an element of mens rea.