Bain, again

Supporters of David Bain will, no doubt, be studying Mallard v R [2005] HCA 68 (15 November 2005). Both started as petitions for the exercise of the Royal prerogative. Just as in R v Bain [2004] 1 NZLR 638, (2003) 20 CRNZ 637 (CA), this was a reference to the court of the question of the conviction of the petitioner, although, in Mallard, the proceedings reached the High Court of Australia on appeal from the determination of the reference by the Court of Criminal Appeal of Western Australia. The equivalent New Zealand provision is s 406 of the Crimes Act 1961. In Bain, the Court of Appeal noted, para 4, that

"A reference under s 406(a) has the effect of an appeal against the convictions so referred. Hence this Court must consider the matters arising as if David Bain was appealing against his convictions a second time."

In Mallard, the corresponding provision was described, at para 6, in the following terms:

"The significance of this history for present purposes, is that the exercise for which s 140(1)(a) of the Sentencing Act 1995 [WA] provides is effectively both a substitute for, and an alternative to, the invocation, and the exercise of the Crown prerogative, an exercise in practice necessarily undertaken by officials and members of the Executive, unconfined by any rules or laws of evidence, procedure, and appellate conventions and restrictions. That history, briefly stated, argues in favour of an approach by a court on a reference of a petition by the Attorney-General to it, of a full review of all the admissible relevant evidence available in the case, whether new, fresh or already considered in earlier proceedings, however described, except to the extent if any, that the relevant Part of the Act may otherwise require."

A significant point concerning the approach of the appellate court in these circumstances (where fresh evidence is relied on by the petitioner) was made in Mallard. This is that it is wrong for the appellate court to view the evidence in a way that is constrained by the verdict that had been reached at trial. At para 10 of Mallard the Court criticised the approach taken by the CCA (WA) whereby limitations were perceived on the court’s jurisdiction to consider the evidence. Instead, the HCA held that the reference of "the whole case" to the appellate court carried no such limitations, and

"…The inhibitory purpose and effect of the words "as if it were an appeal" are merely to confine the Court to the making of orders, and the following of procedures apposite to an appeal, and further, and perhaps most relevantly, to require the Court to consider whether the overall strength of the prosecution case requires the Court to apply the proviso …".

The corresponding New Zealand provision does not use the phrase "the whole case", but it is clear that the meaning is intended to be the same. It refers to "the question of the conviction", and, as with the Western Australian provision, it contrasts that with reference of "any point arising in the case".

It seems fair to say, therefore, that on reference of the conviction, the Court of Appeal should not feel constrained in its view of the facts by the jury’s decision. It is wrong, on this view, to say that because the jury must have accepted certain evidence, that that evidence carries enhanced status for the purposes of determining the reference.

Another indication of the correct approach, stated in Mallard at para 23, is

"It was not for the Court of Criminal Appeal to seek out possibilities, obvious or otherwise, to explain away troublesome inconsistencies which an accused has been denied an opportunity to explore and exploit forensically."

In a separate, concurring, judgment, Kirby J held, para 84, that in a fresh evidence case, the question was whether absence of that evidence

"… could have seriously undermined the effective presentation of the defence case, [as] a verdict reached in the absence of the material evidence (and the use that the defence might have made of it) cannot stand."

Mallard also contains a useful review of the prosecution’s duty of disclosure of evidence to the defence.

In the light of Mallard, the need to reconsider Bain is clear.

Death and certainty

How much formalism is too much? In interpreting statutes, to resolve an ambiguity, judges may focus on the context of the problematic phrase: the paragraph, subsection, and the placing of the section in the scheme of the Act, are considered. In addition, standard tools of interpretation, such as ejusdem generis, and noscitur a sociis, may be used.

Another approach, which may be used in conjunction with this formalistic method, or as an alternative, is the purposive, or pragmatic approach. According to this, the meaning of ambiguous legislation should be determined by reference to what would promote or further Parliament’s purpose in enacting the provision.

There is no consistency in approach to interpreting ambiguous criminal legislation. For example, in R v Secretary of State for the Home Dept; ex p Pierson [1998] AC 539, Lord Steyn said at 585:

"Counsel for the Home Secretary argued that the fixing of the tariff cannot be a sentencing exercise because the judge pronounces the only sentence, ie one of life imprisonment. This is far too formalistic. In public law the emphasis should be on substance rather than form. This case should also not be decided on a semantic quibble about whether the Home Secretary’s function is strictly ‘a sentencing exercise’. The undeniable fact is that in fixing a tariff in an individual case the Home Secretary is making a decision about the punishment of the convicted man."

And, in R v Karpavicius [2002] UKPC 59 (PC) Lord Steyn said, para 15:

"…In a more literalist age it may have been said that the words of s 6(2A)(c) [of the Misuse of Drugs Act 1975[NZ]] are capable of bearing either a wide and narrow meaning and that the fact that a criminal statute is involved requires the narrower interpretation to be adopted. Nowadays an approach concentrating on the purpose of the statutory provision is generally to be preferred: Cross, Statutory Interpretation (3rd ed), 1995, pp 172-175; Ashworth, Principles of Criminal Law (3rd ed), 1999, pp 80-81. This is reinforced by s 5(1) of the Interpretation Act 1999 [New Zealand] which provides that the meaning of an enactment must be ascertained from its text and in the light of its purpose."

We must, then, wonder whether Lord Steyn has consistently taken this pragmatic approach in Smith v The Queen (Jamaica) [2005] UKPC 43 (14 November 2005). Here, the Privy Council split 3-2 on a question of interpretation, and Lord Steyn was part of the majority.

The issue in Smith was the meaning of the phrase "in the course or furtherance of" in the definition of capital murder in Jamaica. There, capital murder (ie where the sentence may be death) occurs where murder is committed "in the course or furtherance of … burglary or housebreaking" (s 2(1)(d) of the Offences Against the Person Act 1864, as amended in 1992).

The facts of Smith were refreshingly brief; they were summarised in the minority judgment, para 18, as "The appellant stood on a ladder against the outside of the deceased's house at night, pulled aside a curtain and a piece of plastic in a window, inserted his head and upper body through the window and struck the deceased a number of blows with a machete as she lay in her bed under the window."

There was no doubt that his entry with felonious intent constituted burglary. The question was whether the murder was in furtherance of the burglary. He committed the burglary with intent of murdering. The minority considered that the murder was therefore committed in the course of or in furtherance of the burglary. This, one might have thought, is the ordinary and natural meaning of the phrase. But no; another interpretation is possible: the offender had a single purpose of murder, and the burglary was in furtherance of the murder, not the other way around, so the murder was not within the definition of capital murder. This was the majority view.

There are two competing public policy justifications. The minority refer, para 23, to the purpose of the section as being:

"…to protect citizens from being murdered in their own homes by intruders who break in at night and to deter offenders from committing such murders. We consider that the legislature could not have intended that an intruder who broke into a house, which he believed to be unoccupied, for the purpose of stealing therein and then, coming upon the occupier, killed him or her, should be guilty of capital murder, but that a person who broke into a house with the express purpose of killing the occupant and did so should not be guilty of capital murder."

On the other hand, the majority refer, para 8 to:

"The vice in these cases, which was thought by …[Parliament] to justify the death penalty, was that the defendant resorted to killing his victim in the course or furtherance of committing the [lesser offence]. It was the wanton and cynical nature of the killing, the debasing in the context of a comparatively minor criminal act of the value that is to be attached to human life, that was regarded as particularly reprehensible."

The majority adhered to authority that required a "duality of purpose" before capital murder was committed: Lamey v The Queen [1996] 1 WLR 902 (PC). Such adherence to precedent is an illustration of formalism being dominant over pragmatism: see Thomas, "The Judicial Process" (2005). Thomas would remove all formalism from the law, whereas the current approach of courts is to employ either formalism, pragmatism, or a blend of them both, as seems appropriate.


This is also illustrated in Lamey, where the Board (which again included Lord Steyn) considered the interpretation of another paragraph of s 2(1) of the Jamaican legislation. This one, (f), includes within the definition of capital murder, any murder committed in furtherance of an act of terrorism. The unanimous judgment refers to the approach to penal statutes:

"6. The starting point in any consideration of section 2(1)(f) must be the fact that its object was to reduce the categories of murder which attracted the death penalty. It follows that a construction which produces little or no reductive effect is unlikely to be correct. Furthermore regard must be had to the general principle that a person should not be penalised and in particular should not be deprived of life or freedom unless under clear authority of law (Bennion's Statutory Interpretation, 2nd Edn. page 574)."

Note the slightly more restrictive approach endorsed here, compared with that taken in Karpavicius, above. In Lamey the conclusion was that paragraph (f) required two intents:

"8. … In their Lordships' view the paragraph requires there to be a double intent on the part of the murderer namely an intent to murder and an intent to create a state of fear in the public or a section thereof."

In Smith, this approach was applied to paragraph (d), and this reasoning is an example of formalist analysis.

Dealing with vagueness

Rights may be expressed in unavoidably vague terms, so how can they be said to be absolute? An example is the right not to be subjected to inhuman or degrading treatment. Does it make sense to say that this right is absolute?

This was the fundamental question that confronted the House of Lords last week in R v Secretary of State for the Home Department, ex parte Adam [2005] UKHL 66 (3 November 2005). It was decided that this right is absolute, once a threshold level of inhuman or degrading treatment has been reached, and that the threshold is relative to the circumstances of each case. Furthermore, the threshold is a high one (except where pain and suffering are deliberately inflicted).

It may be clearer to say that, once treatment can properly be described as inhuman or degrading, then there has been a breach of the right. To say that the threshold is a high one (in particular, Lord Bingham, para 7) is really a way of saying that inhuman or degrading treatment must be relatively harsh. How harsh, depends on the circumstances. On this point, Lord Hope quoted, at para 54, cases from the European Court of Human Rights:

"But the European Court has all along recognised that ill-treatment must attain a minimum level of severity if it is to fall within the scope of the expression "inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment": Ireland v United Kingdom (1978) 2 EHRR 25, 80, para 167; A v United Kingdom (1998) 27 EHRR 611, 629, para 20; V v United Kingdom (1999) 30 EHRR 121, para 71. In Pretty v United Kingdom 35 EHRR 1, 33, para 52, the court said:

‘As regards the types of 'treatment' which fall within the scope of article 3 of the Convention, the court's case law refers to 'ill-treatment' that attains a minimum level of severity and involves actual bodily injury or intense physical or mental suffering. Where treatment humiliates or debases an individual showing a lack of respect for, or diminishing, his or her human dignity or arouses feelings of fear, anguish or inferiority capable of breaking an individual's moral and physical resistance, it may be characterised as degrading and also fall within the prohibition of article 3. The suffering which flows from naturally occurring illness, physical or mental, may be covered by article 3, where it is, or risks being, exacerbated by treatment, whether flowing from conditions of detention, expulsion or other measures, for which the authorities can be held responsible.’

It has also said that the assessment of this minimum is relative, as it depends on all the circumstances of the case such as the nature and context of the treatment or punishment that is in issue. The fact is that it is impossible by a simple definition to embrace all human conditions that will engage article 3."

Significantly, the House of Lords in Adam rejected the spectrum analysis applied in the Court of Appeal, pursuant to which the question whether inhuman or degrading treatment amounts to a breach of the right depends on whether it is nevertheless justified, for example by government policy. Lord Brown, while not actually approving the spectrum analysis, came close to applying it by reasoning that the motive for the treatment may be relevant (para 94). Lord Hope, while not expressly distancing himself from Lord Brown’s approach, pointed out, at para 55, that it would be wrong to include government policy in the assessment of the threshold as that would allow proportionality in by the back door.

Given, then, that the concept of inhuman or degrading treatment is not qualified by considerations of government policy, how close can we get to a definition of it? Lord Bingham put it like this, para 8-9:

"… The answer must in my opinion be: when it appears on a fair and objective assessment of all relevant facts and circumstances that an individual applicant faces an imminent prospect of serious suffering caused or materially aggravated by denial of shelter, food or the most basic necessities of life. Many factors may affect that judgment, including age, gender, mental and physical health and condition, any facilities or sources of support available to the applicant, the weather and time of year and the period for which the applicant has already suffered or is likely to continue to suffer privation.
[9] It is not in my opinion possible to formulate any simple test applicable in all cases. But if there were persuasive evidence that a late applicant was obliged to sleep in the street, save perhaps for a short and foreseeably finite period, or was seriously hungry, or unable to satisfy the most basic requirements of hygiene, the threshold would, in the ordinary way, be crossed."

We might like to consider whether this approach is applicable, by analogy, to the determination of fair trial issues. Whether the appropriate circumstances amount to unfairness can depend on the assessment of factors such as whether the accused would be able properly to challenge the prosecution case, and whether the case would be determined by an unbiased tribunal. Once that arises (not: once that threshold is crossed), then there is a breach of the absolute right to a fair trial.

Leaving readers with that thought, I return to celebrating the 25th anniversary of the publication of my first article, which appeared in England, in what was then the leading criminal journal in the common law world, the Criminal Law Review.

Whose verdict?

Appeals against conviction require consideration of whether there has been a substantial miscarriage of justice. This, in turn, can raise two questions: whether the trial was fair, and, whether the accused was wrongly deprived of a real chance of an acquittal. These are independent questions. The latter is often (and wrongly) taken to be an opportunity for an exacting judicial analysis of the evidence, notwithstanding the oft-repeated claim that it is not for the appellate judges to substitute their verdict for that of the jury. R v Bain [2004] 1 NZLR 638, (2003) 20 CRNZ 637 (CA) is a prime example of applying the trained judicial mind to the analysis of the evidence, rather than considering how the jury might have reacted to proposed new evidence.

An interesting observation on the fact that jurors may not apply linear logic to their task of coming to a verdict was recently made by Kirby J (happily siding with the majority) in R v Stevens [2005] HCA 65 (21 October 2005), para 82:

"One assumes that the human mind, and even more the collective mind of a jury, operates in serious decision-making, rationally and reasonably. But the mind does not necessarily act according to linear paths of strict logic. At any time in a criminal trial, several issues are in play. As Callinan J correctly points out [at para 158: "Nor do I think it is an answer in this case to say that one defence, or a direction in respect of it, subsumed another to the extent that the latter needed not to be mentioned or put to the jury in appropriate terms. Different people may have different perceptions of facts. Certain words, or language, or expressions of concepts, may provoke different responses in different people"], different people, especially a group of people, may have different perceptions of facts and of words, expressions and language (such as on being told of the substance of the Code's provisions on accident). The appellant, who was facing, if convicted, the heaviest penalty known to the law, was entitled to have the chance of a favourable response of the jury to the exemption provided by the Code from criminal responsibility for accident, properly explained. The trial judge ought not to have deprived the appellant of that chance."

An example of acute judicial analysis of the trial evidence, this time with a view to discovering whether the accused had been deprived of the right to adequate facilities to prepare a defence, is the judgment of Thomas J in R v Griffin [2001] 3 NZLR 577, (2001) 19 CRNZ 47 (CA). He concluded that on the evidence, lack of opportunity to have a defence expert examine the complainant did not adversely affect the result, and therefore there was no unfairness. That was, with respect, an incorrect melding of the two questions set out above. He may well have been correct to conclude that there had been no loss of a real chance of an acquittal, on the evidence adduced at trial. But, if the trial was unfair there should have been (as the majority held) a substantial miscarriage of justice. Thomas J treated procedural fairness as irrelevant if the verdict appeared to be correct. He allowed pragmatism (or, as he calls it, substantialism) to override the formal requirements of a fair trial. The majority of the Privy Council did the same in R v Howse [2005] UKPC 31 (19 July 2005), blogged here on 23.7.05. In Griffin, the majority held that had it could not be said that, had the error not occurred, the jury would inevitably have convicted, and a new trial was ordered. They did, however, recognise that this consideration of the second question was probably unnecessary, as they had found that the trial had been unfair. They said, para 40, that it was difficult to imagine a case where there would not be a substantial miscarriage of justice after a breach of the relevant right.

Helpful Acts?

Legislation can make the law absurdly complicated. In Tabe v R [2005] HCA 59 (6 October 2005) Australia’s senior judges split 3 – 2 on an issue that should have been simple. When a person is charged with attempting to get possession of a drug, does the prosecution have to prove that he believed that he could do so?

A refreshingly simple person would think the answer obvious. Why would someone try to get something unless he thought he could? Sad to say, in Queensland things are not so straightforward. That State’s Criminal Code, s 24, provides:

"(1) A person who does or omits to do an act under an honest and reasonable, but mistaken, belief in the existence of any state of things is not criminally responsible for the act or omission to any greater extent than if the real state of things had been such as the person believed to exist.
(2) The operation of this rule may be excluded by the express or implied provisions of the law relating to the subject."

Where this applies, an innocent belief will be a defence if it goes to an essential ingredient of the offence. So, if it is reasonably possible that you thought the thing you were trying to get was some substance you were entitled to have, you would not be guilty of unlawfully attempting to obtain a drug. Fair enough.

Unfortunately, the Drugs Misuse Act 1986 (Q), s 57, makes the position obscure. It provides, in para (d):

"(d) the operation of the Criminal Code, section 24 is excluded unless that person shows an honest and reasonable belief in the existence of any state of things material to the charge."

Seems redundant, you might think. However, one of the cherished ideas in what is called "statutory interpretation" (as if statutes were written in foreign languages) is that the words of an Act are to be given effect because the legislature would not have intended redundancy.

So, the next logical step seems to be to ask, what are the things that s 57(d) calls material to the charge? Section 57(d) appears to be saying that honest and reasonable mistakes about these are matters for the person charged to prove. This would give it an effect beyond that of s 24 of the Code, which may not place a burden of proof on the defendant. So the issue would then be, what does the prosecution have to prove, before the burden shifts to the defence if a mistake is being relied on?

Back to attempting to get possession of a drug. The physical ingredients of the offence were not critical in Tabe. It was not argued, on the facts of the case, that the defendant had not done acts sufficiently proximate to the completion of the offence to amount to an attempt to commit it. It was the mental elements of the offence that were the focus of the dispute.

On first principles, putting aside the judicial reasoning in Tabe, one would have thought that, if belief that the thing is a drug (the essence of the mistake which was, according to s 57(d) for the defence to prove) is not something that the prosecution has to prove, all that the prosecution must prove to establish a prima facie case is the defendant’s intention to perform the acts that he did. This, indeed, is what the majority held (Gleeson CJ in a separate judgment, and Callinan and Heydon JJ in a joint judgment).

The minority (McHugh and Hayne JJ, in separate judgments) saw the issue in two ways. McHugh J focused on the requirement of attempt that the defendant must have had an intention to commit an offence, so that an intention to obtain a drug (and hence a belief that the thing was a drug) was a matter for the prosecution to prove to establish a prima facie case. He also agreed with Hayne J’s approach, which reached the same conclusion by an analysis of the ingredients of possession.

I should point out, here, that none of the judges in Tabe used the expression "prima facie case" except (twice) where it appeared in quotations from another case. It is useful to remember the fundamentals of criminal law. Where an attemptis alleged, it is inevitable, if the prosecution case is to get off the ground, that evidence of belief in the existence of the thing sought, will have to be aduced. In Tabe, (I simplify the facts a little), the defendant thought that an envelope he was collecting contained a drug. It did not, because it had been intercepted by the police and its contents had been replaced with an innocuous powder. Hence the charge was attempt, rather than the full offence of possessing the drug. The evidence in the case included these background matters, and of course established a prima facie intention by the defendant to obtain a drug. Without that evidence, the prosecution could have hardly established a prima facie case by proving that the defendant went to collect an envelope. We would all be on trial, if that were sufficient.

Pragmatism must have motivated the Chief Justice of Australia to deliver the rather ham-fisted justification for his approach (para 20), namely that because most people charged with this claim that their intentions were innocent, that should be a matter for them to prove.

Legislation that speaks briefly can cause problems. Parliament need not try to emulate the Ten Commandments, admirable at least for their brevity. (Horace: "brevis essere laboro, obscurus fio." I try to be brief, but I become obscure.) Getting down to detail, in the tradition of Leviticus, can be appropriate. However this too can be taken too far, as our Sentencing Act 2002 illustrates; it reads like a Dummies guide. But, I digress. It would be appropriate for legislators to remember Cicero’s remark (De Natura Deorum, iii, iv): "The clarity of the case is impaired by arguments."

Silence

Broad common law rights that have been included in the Bill of Rights are not limited to the extent of their definition in the Bill. For example, s 23(4) of NZBORA provides that everyone who is arrested or detained under any enactment for any offence or suspected offence has the right to refrain from making any statement. But if the person questioned has not been detained or arrested, the right to silence that exists at common law continues to apply.

In R v Turcotte [2005] SCC 50 (30 September 2005) the Supreme Court of Canada referred to the common law right to silence (para 41):

"41 Under the traditional common law rules, absent statutory compulsion, everyone has the right to be silent in the face of police questioning. This right to refuse to provide information or answer inquiries finds cogent and defining expression in Rothman v. The Queen, [1981] 1 S.C.R. 640, per Lamer J.:
"In Canada the right of a suspect not to say anything to the police ... is merely the exercise by him of the general right enjoyed in this country by anyone to do whatever one pleases, saying what one pleases or choosing not to say certain things, unless obliged to do otherwise by law. It is because no law says that a suspect, save in certain circumstances, must say anything to the police that we say that he has the right to remain silent, which is a positive way of explaining that there is on his part no legal obligation to do otherwise. [Footnotes omitted; p. 683]""

Silence, however, can, albeit only rarely, be indicative of a consciousness of guilt. Other types of conduct that can indicate a consciousness of guilt are flight, resisting arrest, breach of bail, concealment (lying, giving a false name, using a disguise, disposing of evidence). Silence, however, is special insofar as the person has the right to be silent, and this right would be rendered illusory if it could be used to support an inference of guilt.

This was recognised in Turcotte, where examples of the limited circumstances in which the silence of an accused may be rendered relevant and probative were cited (para 49 – 50): where the defence claim the accused co-operated with the police, where the defence alleges that the police investigation was flawed, and where alibi is not disclosed before trial. Silence may also be relevant to credibility (not as proof of guilt) where two accuseds jointly tried blame each other for the offending, and one gives evidence at trial but had not made a statement to the police (para 48).

The right to silence is not waived merely because the suspect answers some questions (para 52). The fact that the accused was silent may be an inextricable part of the narrative, but, where it is, the judge must tell the jury that it is not evidence of guilt. Failure to do so can result in a new trial being ordered, as it was in Turcotte.

Reverse onus and the strength of rights

In R v Phillips [1991] 3 NZLR 175 (CA) the New Zealand Court of Appeal missed the opportunity to lead the way in upholding human rights. In R v Lambert [2002] 2 AC 545 (HL) the Law Lords seized the opportunity that the New Zealand court had missed. Now, as a result of R v Hansen 29/8/05, CA128/05, an opportunity presents itself to the Supreme Court to catch up. The issues in question were specifically left open by the Court in Siloata v R [2005] 2 NZLR 145, (2004) 21 CRNZ 426 (SC).

There are two issues. The more general is how easily legislation may override the Bill of Rights. The more specific issue is whether the presumption of innocence requires that a statutory reverse burden on the accused to establish a matter carries the standard of proof on the balance of probabilities, or whether it is just the standard of raising a reasonable doubt, when the legislation is silent about that.

Overriding the Bill of Rights.
The New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990 ("NZBORA") recognises that it may be overridden by statute, but offers some resistance to that in s 6:

"6. Interpretation consistent with Bill of Rights to be preferred — Wherever an enactment can be given a meaning that is consistent with the rights and freedoms contained in this Bill of Rights, that meaning shall be preferred to any other meaning."

Note the phrases "can be given", and "shall be preferred to any other meaning". These suggest the active "giving" of a meaning, as opposed to passively accepting an apparent meaning, and the strong motivation to give such a meaning implicit in the mandatory "shall be preferred". Moreover, the mandated meaning shall be preferred "to any other meaning", which indicates an intention to override the ordinary and natural meaning (the one usually preferred in statutory interpretation) where necessary.

The relevant United Kingdom legislation, s 3 of the Human Rights Act 1998 [UK] has a similar role:

"3.—(1) So far as it is possible to do so, primary legislation and subordinate legislation must be read and given effect in a way which is compatible with the Convention rights."

One would be hard pressed to see any difference in meaning between these two sections. They are expressions of the same idea. Section 3 has been interpreted as requiring a strained interpretation of statutory language if that is necessary to prevent conflict with rights, even if doing so requires a departure from the legislative purpose: Ghaidan v Godin-Mendoza [2004] UKHL 30 (HL).

Strange to say, there has been some effort to draw a distinction between s 6 and s 3. In R v Kebeline [2000] 2 AC 326 (HL), Lord Cooke (who had delivered the judgment in Phillips) said:

"… section 6 of the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990 is in terms different from section 3(1) of the Human Rights Act 1998. The United Kingdom subsection, read as a whole, conveys, I think, a rather more powerful message."

Lord Steyn has also claimed to be able to see a difference: R v A [2002] 1 AC 45; [2001] 3 All ER 1 (HL) at para 44:

"The draftsman of the [Human Rights] Act had before him the slightly weaker model in section 6 of the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990 but preferred stronger language. Parliament specifically rejected the legislative model of requiring a reasonable interpretation. Section 3 places a duty on the court to strive to find a possible interpretation compatible with Convention rights."

Well, does s 6 really limit itself to "reasonable" interpretations? It doesn’t say "wherever an enactment can reasonably be given …".

Reverse onus and the presumption of innocence
Section 25(c) of NZBORA provides that everyone who is charged with an offence has, as a minimum right, the right to be presumed innocent until proved guilty according to law. Of course the presumption of innocence is an ancient common law right, and its inclusion in the Bill of Rights gives it (if this is possible) added status.

In Phillips the question was whether s 25(c) of NZBORA requires a new interpretation of the reverse onus. Hitherto, when a statute provided that an accused shall prove something, that was interpreted to mean prove to the standard of the balance of probabilities. The submission in Phillips was that this should now mean prove by raising a reasonable doubt.

The context of Phillips was s 6(6) of the Misuse of Drugs Act 1975, which applies when an accused is proved beyond reasonable doubt to have had possession of a quantity of drug equal to or more than an amount specified in the Act. The effect is that in such circumstances the accused "is presumed until the contrary is proved to be in possession of a controlled drug for [the purpose of supplying it]." Thus the issue came down to whether "until the contrary is proved" in this context can mean "until a reasonable doubt is raised".

In Phillips it was held that that meaning was not open, whereas in Lambert it was held, in relation to reverse-onus legislation, that it was. In the recent case, Hansen, Phillips was followed.

Hansen is based on two points: the claimed difference between s 6 of NZBORA and s 3 of the Human Rights Act 1998[UK], and the idea that raising an issue is not "proof", so that the meaning of the reverse onus provision advocated for the accused (appellant) was not open. It must be said that the Court of Appeal was correct to follow its own earlier decision in Phillips, and to leave an application for leave to appeal to be made by the accused. This, indeed, is underway.

Admissibility of pre-trial denials

For no good reason, there has recently been some hesitation about whether the exculpatory parts of a statement that also has incriminating content, made by an accused to the police before trial, are admissible as proof of their truth. In Mule v R [2005] HCA 49 (8 September 2005) the law was left unchanged: the exculpatory parts may be relied on by the defence at trial as evidence of their truth. The High Court of Australia noted that this was the established law in Australia and England (citing the House of Lords decision R v Aziz [1996] AC 41, which, however, is a little controversial, insofar as it suggests that an accused cannot insist on production of his mixed statement).

We might as well take advantage of the current dearth of interesting cases (it is the holiday season in Europe) to dwell upon this. Prior consistent statements are inadmissible, as hearsay (R v Sturgeon (2004) 21 CRNZ 345 (CA)), so when an accused gives evidence, the fact that he said the same thing outside court is not proof of the truth of what was asserted. Even the fact that he said it is inadmissible, unless recent fabrication is alleged, in which case it is admissible as proof of consistency, and not as proof of the fact asserted. This rather subtle distinction is, of course, a source of some confusion.

So, when a suspect is interviewed by the police and he makes a fully exculpatory statement, that is hearsay and the defence cannot insist that the prosecution adduce it in evidence. Usually, however, statements to the police do include admissions, even if not complete admissions of the offence alleged. They may admit certain things but deny an ingredient that the prosecution have to prove to establish guilt. These are called mixed statements. As a matter of fairness, the law has allowed them to be admitted as proof of the truth of both their inculpatory and their exculpatory parts: R v Wilkie 27/4/05, CA6/05; R v Poa 26/7/01, CA48/01.

Obviously, a line has to be drawn between statements that are genuinely mixed, and those that are contrived to be exculpatory in the hope that the prosecution will have to adduce them in evidence: R v Reihana 22/3/01, CA350/00.

When an accused gives evidence at trial, it is customary for the judge to give the jury what is called a tripartite direction: (1) they may accept the accused’s evidence and find him not guilty; (2) they may think that the accused’s evidence cerates a reasonable doubt and find him not guilty; (3) they may reject the accused’s evidence, in which case they must consider the evidence in the case that they do accept and determine whether it proves guilt beyond reasonable doubt: R v McI [1998] 1 NZLR 696 (CA). Such a direction is not required for a pre-trial statement: R v I 16/10/02, CA255/02, but it can be given: Reihana, above. Where the accused has made a pre-trial statement but does not give evidence at trial, the judge may comment on the reduced weight that the statement may have: R v Green 18/2/92, CA119/92.

With the law in this mildly complex, but settled, state, it is hardly surprising that the Supreme Court has recently declined to accept an appeal on the question of the admissibility of the exculpatory parts of a pre-trial statement.

The proviso

Vexed issues concerning the application of s 385(1) of the Crimes Act 1961 are on the way to being resolved as a result of the Supreme Court’s decision in Sungsuwan v R [2005] NZSC 57 (25 August 2005).

Issues have concerned the power of appellate courts to disallow appeals against conviction if, notwithstanding that there had been, for example (s 385(1)(c)) a miscarriage of justice at trial, that miscarriage was not "substantial": the proviso to s 385(1). When is a miscarriage of justice "substantial"?

In Sungsuwan the appeal was based on alleged misconduct of counsel at the trial, in failing to adduce evidence that, it was claimed, would have supported the defence, from two prosecution witnesses. The Supreme Court unanimously held that the verdict was safe and that there was no miscarriage of justice in the conviction. Three judgments were delivered: individually by Elias CJ and Tipping J, and jointly by Gault, Keith and Blanchard JJ (delivered by Gault J).

Elias CJ held that it would be unlikely to be appropriate to apply the proviso where a miscarriage of justice in terms of s 385(1)(c) is made out (para 6).

Tipping J was firmer on this point, holding that in cases coming within s 385(1)(a) and (c) the proviso was fused with the error, in the sense that there was no need to apply the proviso once the error had been established (para 113). At this point, Tipping J footnotes R v McI [1998] 1 NZLR 696 (CA), illustrating that there was a degree of "awkwardness" in the relation between para (c) and the proviso. In that case, delivering the majority judgment of himself and Keith J, Tipping J had not gone so far as to separate para (c) from the application of the proviso, and had held that before the proviso could be applied, the Court "must be sure that the jury would without doubt have convicted had the matters giving rise to the initial miscarriage of justice not been present" (p 712, line 22). There are two points here worth noting.

First, the attempt in McI to imagine what might have happened had the error not occurred, is not used as the test in Sangsuwan. Admittedly, it makes sense in some contexts, but it can be a distraction from the real point which is, given that the error had occurred, what was its effect? In Sungsuwan the question is put variously as "whether the verdict is unsafe" (Elias CJ at para 7), whether the error prejudiced the accused’s chance of an acquittal (Gault J at para 67), whether the error was likely to have had an effect on the trial outcome (Gault J at 69), whether there was a real risk that the error affected the trial outcome, whether there was a real concern for the safety of the verdict (Gault J at 70), whether the error prejudiced the accused’s prospects of acquittal or a lesser verdict (Tipping J at 101), whether the error led to a real risk of an unsafe verdict (Tipping J at 107, 108, 110, 111, 116), whether the accused was deprived of a reasonable possibility of a more favourable verdict (Tipping J at 115).

Second, the quoted passage from McI shows that there is a high standard on the prosecution to show that the miscarriage of justice was not "substantial", implying that tolerance of miscarriage of justice is low. This appears consistent with Sungsuwan, as the formulae referred to in the previous paragraph indicate. Tipping J, however, and perhaps unintentionally, highlighted an inconsistency by referring in Sungsuwan to "the high threshold" for showing that the trial had been unfair (para 115, footnote 45). Is unfairness tolerated to a greater extent than other forms of miscarriage of justice?

One thing made clear in Sungsuwan is the relevance of the effect of the error on the verdict in cases where the error has led to the trial being unfair. Trials may, of course, contain errors, yet not amount to unfair trials. Trial unfairness is a narrow concept, focused on the questions of bias and application of the law to the facts. Some erroneous directions on the law may not cause a jury, overall, to misapply the law to the facts; they may, in the particular context, be insignificant slips. There has been some difference in the cases (see especially, Howse, below)about whether an error has to affect the verdict before the trial can be said to have been unfair.

Elias CJ held that it was difficult to envisage that a verdict reached without fair trial could not amount to a miscarriage of justice and it would not be likely that the proviso could apply (para 6). Gault J referred to errors that deny the accused a fairly presented defence, saying that these may readily permit the Court to find prejudice and in extreme cases may not require the Court to ask whether they affected the verdict (para 65). Tipping J addressed the point more directly, saying that, rarely, things may have gone so wrong at trial that a miscarriage of justice occurred without there being any need to refer to whether there was a real risk of an unsafe verdict (para 111, 112, citing, inter alia, the judgment of himself, and Richardson P and Blanchard J in R v Griffin [2001] 3 NZLR 577, 587).

When judges say that things will happen only "rarely", they happen all the time. To say "rarely" is to indulge in wishful thinking. The point is that whenever the trial has been unfair, there is no need to enquire whether the unfairness caused the guilty verdict. No matter how correct the guilty verdict may be, it must not be arrived at by an unfair trial.

It makes no sense to put the necessary risk of trial unfairness, before a substantial miscarriage of justice is found on that ground, at any different from the necessary risk of an unsafe verdict. Difficulty can arise in deciding between the two grounds, as is illustrated by Howse v R [2005] UKPC 31 (19 July 2005), noted in this blog on 23 July 2005. There, the majority, in a case where it was not in issue that the admissible evidence supported the verdict, rather the issue was whether the trial had been unfair, applied the criterion of what course the trial would have taken if the errors had not been made. This was precisely the wrong test, as Sunsuwan shows the appropriate question is, given that the errors occurred, what part did they play. The correct approach would have been to ask, as did the minority in Howse, whether the errors could have played a part in the task of applying the law to the facts.

Readers of these blogs will be deeply satisfied to note that in our entry for 1 April 2005, commenting on Teeluck v State of Trinidad and Tobago, we asserted that loss of a fair trial was itself a substantial miscarriage of justice and did not require that the verdict be unsafe.

Impartiality and reason

On this, the first anniversary of the start of this blog, we consider a case that illustrates how not to get the court on your side.

In Mugesera v Canada (Minister of Citizenship and Immigration) [2005] SCC 39 (18 August 2005) proceedings filed in the Supreme Court of Canada alleged that it was a biased court, its composition having been manipulated by the (former) Minister as part of an extensive Jewish conspiracy aimed at ensuring Mugesera would be deported.

One new Judge had been appointed, and she recused herself from having anything to do with this appeal as soon as she saw it on the Court’s list of forthcoming work. Her husband was chair of the War Crimes Committee of the Canadian Jewish Congress, a party to these proceedings, and he had conveyed representations about the case to the Minister. Deportation was sought on the grounds that Mugesera wrongly had been allowed to stay in Canada, and that he was alleged to have committed, or had incited others to commit, murder, genocide, or crimes against humanity in Rwanda.

Mugesera sought a stay of proceedings on the grounds that the Minister had wrongly exercised his decision to seek deportation, by appealing an earlier court ruling, and that the Supreme Court of Canada was biased.

The Court, now sitting as 8 Judges, delivered a joint judgment, referring briefly to the law on stay of proceedings (para 12) and judicial impartiality (para 13), and held that the Minister had properly exercised his power to appeal (para 14). It then turned to the allegations that it was biased. It held that no reasonable person would think that, one Justice having recused herself, the ability of the other members of the Court to remain impartial would be impaired (para 15). It made important observations of the duties of counsel when preparing legal argument (para 16):

"Although it is not our usual practice, the content of the motion and of its allegations compels us to point out that it is unprofessional and unacceptable. It constitutes an unqualified and abusive attack on the integrity of the Judges of this Court. In an attempt to establish the alleged Jewish conspiracy and abuse of process against the Mugeseras, this pleading systematically referred to irresponsible innuendo. In addition, it refers to exhibits that are irrelevant and whose content is entirely inappropriate and misleading. Thus, it is obvious from the motion and its supporting exhibits that it was drafted with little concern for the rigour, restraint and respect for the facts required of all lawyers involved in judicial proceedings as an officer of the court. We are compelled to say that none of the allegations in the motion, no portion of the affidavits filed in support of the motion, and none of the documents to which these affidavits refer justifies the motion with respect to members of this Court or to the appellant’s decision to initiate and pursue this appeal. The only abuse of process from this motion lies at the feet of the respondent Mugesera and [his counsel] Mr. Bertrand."

The Court concluded with observations that reflect the difference between politics and law:

"17 Regretfully, we must also mention that the motion and the documents filed in support of it include anti Semitic sentiment and views that most might have thought had disappeared from Canadian society, and even more so from legal debate in Canada. Our society is a diverse one, home to the widest variety of ethnic, linguistic and cultural groups. In this society, to resort to discourse and actions that profoundly contradict the principles of equality and mutual respect that are the foundations of our public life shows a lack of respect for the fundamental rules governing our public institutions and, more specifically, our courts and the justice system."

Purpose and policy

R v Lavender [2005] HCA 37 (4 August 2005) required the High Court of Australia to decide whether malice is an element of manslaughter in legislation dating back over 100 years. While the 7 judges all agreed in the result (that it is not), the case is interesting for its demonstration of how evenly balanced is the nature of statutory interpretation. Kirby J noted this point at para 69.

The only reason Kirby J agreed with the Court’s conclusion was that the consequences of the preferred interpretation were "less unsatisfactory" than the consequences of the rejected interpretation. This was the critical point for him, and it was decisive after an application of the standard approach to statutory interpretation, which involves an analysis of the context of the disputed provision, the legislative history, and an effort to discern the intention of the legislators. A background consideration, as a matter of last resort (para 93) is the rule that penal statutes should, in cases of ambiguity, be construed against the state.

The so-called purpose of the legislators is, on the standard approach, the touchstone. Indeed, it has (unambiguous) statutory force in the form of s 5(1) of the Interpretation Act 1999[NZ] which provides that the meaning of an enactment must be ascertained from its text and in the light of its purpose. The Privy Council referred to that in R v Karpavicius [2002] UKPC 59, (2002) 19 CRNZ 609, a case where the opposing arguments were linguistically finely balanced. The Privy Council made it plain that the purposive approach is to take precedence over the strict construction of penal statutes rule.

However, the courts depart from the purposive approach when that conflicts with human rights, giving effect to rights wherever doing so is consistent with the "underlying thrust" or is "with the grain" of the legislation (as opposed to being consistent with the legislative purpose): Ghaidan v Godin-Mendoza [2004] 3 WLR 113, [2004] UKHL 30 (21 June 2004). Plainly, there are some rather fine shades of meaning here.

In considering how best to approach the interpretation of old legislation, it is appropriate to bear in mind the words of Francis Lieber, Legal and Political Hermeneutics (enlarged ed, 1839), at 135, quoted by Richard Posner, The Problems of Jurisprudence (1990) at 298:

"Whether we rejoice in it or not, the world moves on, and no man can run against the movement of his time. Laws must be understood to mean something for the advantage of society; and if obsolete laws are not abolished by the proper authority, practical life itself, that is, the people, will and must abolish them, or alter them in their application …."

Posner argues that the term "interpretation" is so elastic that "it often is a fig leaf covering judicial discretion rather than a guide to decision making" (p 30).

If there is a lesson to be drawn from deconstructionism, it is that the meaning of a text is ascertained by its reader, and is not pre-determined by its author. See JM Balkin, "Deconstructive Practice and Legal Theory" at http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/jbalkin/articles/decprac1.htm

Silence as evidence

When, if ever, is the accused’s silence at trial evidence of his guilt? The conventional view is that silence itself is not evidence of anything; it is just an absence of evidence. The significance of this absence of evidence is, conventionally, that it may strengthen the weight to be given to prosecution evidence. Adams on Criminal Law puts it this way, at CA366.02:

"Silence cannot be used to fill a gap in the evidence presented by the prosecution, or relied on to establish guilt so as to warrant the jury omitting to scrutinise all the evidence before it. However, the Judge may direct the jury that in determining the weight to be given to evidence tending to prove guilt it may accord greater weight to such evidence by an inference drawn from the absence of explanation or answer from the accused: R v Hines (No 3) (1998) 16 CRNZ 236 (CA)."

On the other hand, in R v Becouarn [2005] UKHL 55 (28 July 2005) the House of Lords approved a direction to the jury that included the following:

" … if, and I stress the word, if, if you think in all the circumstances it is right and fair to do so you are entitled, when deciding whether the defendant is guilty of the offences with which he is charged, to draw such inferences from his failure to give evidence as you think proper. In simple terms that means that you may hold his failure to give evidence against him."

Permitting "such inferences as you think proper" potentially allows the jury to use silence as if it were positive evidence of guilt. This potential was recognised by Lord Carswell (with whom the others agreed) at para 21, where reference was made to a study showing that people tend to treat credibility evidence (in the example the Court was considering, this was evidence of the accused’s convictions) as if it were propensity evidence:

" … It is, however, a matter of notoriety that juries in practice are likely to regard them as indicators of propensity and so supportive of guilt. That piece of folk knowledge received some verification from a study commissioned by the Home Office and based on research carried out on the effect of bad character evidence on mock jurors (Sally Lloyd-Bostock, The Effects on Juries of Hearing about the Defendant's Previous Criminal Record: a Simulation Study [2000] Crim LR 734)."

In Becouarn the accused at trial had attacked the character of prosecution witnesses in a way that, inevitably, would have caused the judge to permit the prosecution to cross-examine him on his own previous convictions, if he gave evidence. By not giving evidence an accused can, in these circumstances, prevent the jury learning of his record. The accused did not give evidence, and the judge directed the jury on the significance of his silence at trial, and included the comment quoted above.

Jurisdictions differ in what is regarded as appropriate judicial comment on the accused’s silence at trial. As Adams observes, CA366.02:

"It would appear that the New Zealand position to some extent represents a mid-point between English practice where stronger comment may be considered appropriate (see R v Martinez-Tobon [1994] 2 All ER 90 (CA)) and the more restrictive Australian rule, as to which see Azzopardi v R (2001) 179 ALR 349; (2001) 119 A Crim R 8 (HCA)."

The Evidence Bill does not address the contents of judicial comment, merely providing (clause 29) that "In a criminal proceeding, no person other than the defendant or the defendant’s counsel or the Judge may comment on the fact that the defendant did not give evidence at his or her trial."

Fundamental difficulties

New Zealand has not been served well by the Privy Council in the last criminal appeal it will hear from this country. It is alarming that some of the most senior judges differ over recognising the fundamental attributes of a fair trial. In Howse v R [2005] UKPC 31 (19 July 2005) the Judicial Committee consisted of three Law Lords and two retired Lords Justice of Appeal, the Rt Hon Sir Swinton Thomas, and the Rt Hon Sir Andrew Leggatt. The Court split 3-2. Lord Rodger, the most senior of these Law Lords, dissented. The majority Law Lords were Hutton and Carswell. The other members were also divided, Sir Swinton Thomas being with the majority. The absence of Lords Bingham, Nicholls and Steyn from this Board could be said to significantly reduce the status of the case.

Fairness is a broad and not always easy to define concept. But lawyers like to attack such concepts and break them down. So, there are, I suggest, two kinds of trial unfairness. The first is procedural unfairness, and this may or may not give rise to the second kind, substantive unfairness. Alternatively, substantive unfairness may exist without there also being procedural unfairness. Either kind of unfairness amounts to a substantial miscarriage of justice, requiring the quashing of conviction and (usually) an order for a new trial.

Procedural unfairness occurs where the accused is deprived of the right to have the facts determined by an unbiased tribunal that applies the law correctly. By “unbiased” I mean to include juries that are not impartial because of some misdirection on the law by the judge. This might be, to give just a few examples, a misdirection on the use of propensity evidence, on the burden of proof, on the defendant’s right to silence, or on the need for caution in relation to particular evidence. Such errors could affect a juror’s assessment of the evidence against the defendant. These are not in the category of errors called substantive because they do not involve the ingredients of the alleged offence or, as one might say, the substance of the charge. More obvious procedural errors can occur before a trial, for example where there has been a failure of disclosure by the prosecutor, or where  an impropriety in the obtaining of evidence was such that the evidence was wrongly admitted at trial. There may, nevertheless, be some errors that do not give rise to unfairness if it can properly be said that they were of no consequence in the overall context of the trial. The critical issue in Howse was whether the errors that occurred were of no consequence in this sense.

Substantive unfairness occurs where the accused has, through errors at trial, or through the unavailability of evidence that subsequently comes to hand, been improperly deprived of a fair chance of an acquittal. For example, the jury may have been wrongly directed, or not directed at all, on the elements of the alleged offence, or on the burden and standard of proof, or on a defence. 

It would be wrong to confuse the question of fairness of either kind with the question of guilt. But in Howse the Privy Council majority did just that.

The majority in Howse thought that, because the properly admissible evidence of guilt was overwhelming, there was no substantive unfairness. They also held that there was no procedural unfairness because the errors were inconsequential, and therefore the trial was fair.

The minority in Howse carefully analysed the significance of the improperly admitted evidence in the context of the trial. The Crown had decided to run its case relying on motive to establish that the accused, and not his partner, was the murderer. The Crown had obtained a pre-trial ruling that evidence of motive was admissible, and, bearing in mind the importance of that evidence for the prosecution case, it was impossible (said the minority, para 68) for the Crown to now argue that the evidence was insignificant. The trial judge had referred to it as being significant when she summed up the case to the jury (para 65). In fact, the Court of Appeal held that the evidence of motive was inadmissible, and this finding was not challenged before the Privy Council. The minority held that the trial had been unfair because the accusation of motive, central to the Crown’s case, was not supported by any admissible evidence.

The majority reasoned that, if the errors at trial had not occurred, the Crown’s case was so compelling that a conviction was inevitable, therefore the trial had been fair. In the context of the case, said the majority, the errors were not radical or fundamental enough to deprive the accused of a proper trial (para 40).

A potential difficulty exists in the view of all members of the Board (paras 37 and 54) that a high threshold must be crossed before a finding of trial unfairness can be made. This, it is suggested, should not be taken to mean that a reasonably high level of unfairness will be tolerated before it amounts to a substantial miscarriage of justice. Rather, it should be taken to mean that the courts will scrutinise claims of unfairness very carefully before accepting that unfairness occurred.

Howse is a lesson in the dangers of emphasising substantive fairness at the expense of procedural fairness. The majority made the mistake of applying, to the issue of whether there was procedural unfairness, the criterion for substantive unfairness. There may always be a dispute over whether Mr Howse received "the kind of trial which the law expects that an accused should have" (para 47).

Proof and risks

Is there a difference, in terms of whether a standard of proof is applicable, between deciding whether a "fact" is proved, and deciding whether a "risk" exists?

One view is that a reasonable doubt may exist about the existence of a fact, and about the existence of a risk. Another view is that, while facts may be amenable to reasonable doubt, risks are matters of judgment to which application of a standard of proof is inappropriate.

An example of a "risk" is the risk that a prisoner will be a danger to the safety of the public if released on parole. Another example is the risk that a decision in the course of a trial, such as one concerning the admissibility of evidence, will result in unfairness to the accused. Is the risk of trial unfairness a matter for standard of proof?

Trial unfairness can arise if evidence is wrongly admitted. In particular, evidence that has been obtained unfairly may, if ruled admissible, result in an unfair trial. The approach taken in R v Noble 7/4/87, Eichelbaum J (as he then was), HC Wellington T4/86 was that where the accused establishes an evidential foundation for his claim that the evidence was unfairly obtained, the burden of proof shifts to the prosecution to prove beyond reasonable doubt that it was not unfairly obtained.

In contrast, there are some dicta to the effect that questions of admissibility are matters of judgment not amenable to any particular standard of proof (R v Marsh (1991) 7 CRNZ 465 (CA), R v Williams (1990) 7 CRNZ 378 (CA)), but these should not be taken as governing the approach to be taken where a factual foundation for admissibility is required. In Marsh the Court quoted its dictum on this point in Williams, and it is clear that the point was that what amounts to unfairness is a matter of judgment. In other words, when the Court has determined the facts, it must apply judgment to decide whether they amount to unfairness. Notwithstanding this, a reasonable doubt about fairness should lead to exclusion of evidence, as occurred in R v Te Huia 8/9/97, Gendall J, HC Napier T17/97, discussed in Mathias, "Unfairly observed rights" [1998] NZLJ 21. The Privy Council has required fairness to be proved beyond reasonable doubt, after considering and rejecting the (now obsolete) New Zealand prima facie exclusion rule: Mohammed v The State [1999] 2 AC 111 (PC): the prosecution must prove beyond reasonable doubt that there was no breach of rights, and (p 124) a breach of the right to a fair trial must inevitably result in the conviction being quashed. Consequently, it would be inappropriate to rely on the notion that fairness is a matter of judgment not amenable to a standard of proof.

The House of Lords has recently expressed views on whether a risk can be amenable to a standard of proof: Re McClean [2005] UKHL 46 (7 July 2005). On this point the relevant issue was whether a standard of proof applied to the judgment of the risk posed by a prisoner to the safety of the community. Lord Bingham, para 26, referred to cases in which doubts had been expressed about whether a standard of proof applied to the evaluation of a risk, but he concluded, para 29, that

" … In the last resort, any reasonable doubt which the Commissioners properly entertain whether, if released immediately, a prisoner would be a danger to the public must be resolved against the prisoner … "

This indicates that, when after considering the evidence, the tribunal is unsure, a standard of proof then is applicable to enable a decision to be made.

Lord Brown, agreeing, made the same point, para 103:

"…But even accepting that just occasionally the Commissioners may be genuinely unsure if such a prisoner can safely be released—the only situation in which the burden of proof assumes relevance—I for my part would unhesitatingly conclude that he should remain in prison rather than benefit from the accelerated release scheme…."

This is preferable to endeavouring to sustain fallacious distinctions between conclusions of "fact" and evaluations of "risk". Both, after all, are just conclusions, and both can be challenged by the question "how sure are you of that?"

"Starting points" for sentences

The starting point for a sentence is "the true point of comparison with other offending before individual aggravating and mitigating factors are taken into account. Fixing the starting point is the mechanism for seeking consistency in sentencing": R v Mako 23/3/00, CA446/99. The assessment of starting points is not capable of exact arithmetical gradation or scaling: R v Norfolk 27/8/01, CA195/01. The cases reveal two approaches to starting points, as was noted in R v Hooker 30/8/01, CA154/01, at para 7:

"…it is perhaps unfortunate that the term ‘starting point’ is used in judgments in two different ways. Sometimes the term is used to reflect the opening position before a consideration of aggravating and mitigating circumstances. At other times the term is used to reflect the position before mitigating circumstances are taken into account; that is, aggravating features are built into the so-called starting point."

In R v Gemmell 23/10/01, CA267/01 it was held that the starting point should reflect all aspects of the case except the plea (citing R v Ataria 15/12/98, CA318/98).

There seems to be a sort of halfway house approach in practice, according to which the starting point is measured by taking into account aggravating features. It is respectfully suggested that this is the preferable method. An interesting illustration is R v Raheke 8/7/04, France J, HC Napier S8/2004 (above, para 1808), where although the Crown submitted that the starting point should be established before aggravating features were added (para 9 of the sentencing remarks), France J took the aggravating features into account in setting the starting point (paras 18 and 20 of the sentencing remarks).

This logically sensible approach was taken while at the same time her Honour was guided by the approach in R v Bradley and Galvin 20/2/04, Williams J, HC Rotorua CRI-2003-063-8523. However in that case Williams J had set a starting point, then (apparently) added aggravating features (para 22 of his Honour’s remarks). In referring to the desirability of consistency, in following the approach of Williams J, France J found guidance in R v Wallace and Christie [1999] 3 NZLR 159, (1999) 16 CRNZ 443 (CA) in setting the starting point.

Thus although both Judges found assistance in Wallace in setting the starting point, their approaches to the relevance of aggravating features appears to differ. In Wallace the Court did not specify which method was to be preferred, but at para 30 of the judgment, after setting out summaries of relevant cases, the Court referred to starting points before allowance was made for mitigating factors. Again, in para 36, the Court referred to either method producing an appropriate result in relation to Wallace, whose appeal was dismissed. However, in R v Arthur 17/3/05, CA382/04, at para 26, the approach was said to be to set the starting point before taking into account aggravating features (such as the existence of relevant previous convictions) and mitigating features (such as a plea of guilty).

The above discussion of starting points is predicated on the meaning of "mitigating factors" as factors that are not connected with the offending but that may properly be taken into account as diminishing the final sentence. This is the meaning of "mitigating factors" used by DA Thomas in his analysis of English sentencing. A different usage has been employed by the Court of Appeal, whereby "mitigating factors" include matters that concern the commission of the offence, as well as those that concern the circumstances of the offender: R v Taueki 30/6/05, CA384/04, a decision of the Full Court giving guidelines for sentencing for violent offending involving grievous bodily harm. Accordingly, the "starting point" may now be understood as the sentence appropriate when aggravating and mitigating circumstances relating to the offending are taken into account, but excluding aggravating and mitigating features personal to the offender. The starting point is the sentence, determined in this way, for an adult offender after a defended trial: Taueki para 8.

Fairness to Prisoners

Parole Board decisions differ from those of trial courts: the former give paramount consideration to the safety of the community (Parole Act 2002[NZ], s 7(1)), while the latter acknowledge the fundamental requirement of fairness to the accused. To what extent, then, must Parole Board hearings be fair to the prisoner?

This issue has been considered by the House of Lords in Roberts v Parole Board [2005] UKHL 45 (7 July 2005), where the questions were whether the Parole Board could withold information from the prisoner and his legal representative and instead use the specially appointed advocate (SAA) procedure. The same questions could arise in New Zealand, as s 13(3) and (5) of the Parole Act 2002[NZ] authorise the non-disclosure of information to the prisoner in the interests of the safety of any person, and the Board "may" (not must) disclose that to the prisoner’s counsel.

In Roberts the House of Lords split 3-2. Lord Woolf (the Chief Justice) and Lords Rodger and Carswell held that in principle (the case could not yet be determined on its facts) the SAA procedure could be used in rare cases where the public interest required non-disclosure, but (per Lord Woolf, para 83, point vii):

"What will be determinative in a particular case is whether looking at the process as a whole a decision has been taken by the Board using a procedure that involves significant injustice to the prisoner. If there has been, the decision should be quashed. The procedure may not be ideal procedure but it may be the only or the best method of balancing the triangulation of interests involved in the very small number of cases where a SAA may be instructed."

This may be criticised for vagueness over what is "significant" injustice to the prisoner. Lord Carswell, concurring, put the conclusion in these terms (para 144):

"I accept that there may well be cases in which it would not be sufficiently fair to be justifiable and each case will require consideration on its own facts. I would agree that the SAA procedure should be used only in rare and exceptional cases and, as Lord Bingham of Cornhill said in R v H [2004] 2 AC 134 at para 22, as a course of last and never first resort."

Again, what is "sufficiently" fair?

Lord Rodger, also in the majority, highlighted the difficulties that arise when primacy is given to the interests of the prisoner (para 111):

"One solution would be to disclose the information to the prisoner's representative and, if possible, to require the informant to give evidence, even though this would risk putting his life or health in jeopardy. That solution would be, to say the least, unattractive and might well give rise to significant issues under articles 2 and 3 of the European Convention. The other solution would be for the Board to exclude from their consideration any evidence which could not be safely disclosed to the prisoner or his representative. In other words, the Board should close their eyes to evidence, even though it would be relevant to the decision which Parliament has charged them to take for the protection of the public. That solution too would be - again, to say the least - unattractive and, moreover, hard to reconcile with the Board's statutory duty not to direct a prisoner's release on licence unless they are satisfied that it is no longer in the interests of the public that he should be confined."

Unfortunatley this latter point undermines Lord Woolf’s view that (para 80):

"The Board can refuse to pay any attention to the information that the individual could provide. This would mean, however, that the Board could be in breach of its express statutory duty. So it is my view that the information should only be disregarded if there is no other way in which the prisoner's fundamental right to be treated fairly can be protected."

Lord Woolf’s approach is an attempt to apply the procedure taken to ensure fairness to the accused in criminal trials where the prosecution seeks to refuse full disclosure, set out in R v H (above), to proceedings of the Parole Board. In trials, the ultimate issue is the adequacy of the tendered proof of guilt, and if the prosecution considers that disclosure ordered by the court in the interests of trial fairness should not be made because of the need to protect an informant, then it can elect not to proceed with its case. But in proceedings before the Parole Board, the safety of the community is the dominant interest. Discontinuance of the proceedings is not a solution because the prisoner’s case would not be heard. The dilemma is that a serious risk to a member of the public might be grounds for non-disclosure to the prisoner, and for ignoring the information about that risk in the interests of "fairness".

The minority judges, Lords Bingham and Steyn, placed primacy on the need for fairness to the prisoner. The SAA procedure was no substitute for full disclosure. Lord Steyn (para 88) summarised it:

"Taken as a whole, the procedure completely lacks the essential characteristics of a fair hearing. It is important not to pussyfoot about such a fundamental matter: the special advocate procedure undermines the very essence of elementary justice. It involves a phantom hearing only."

He went so far as to quote from Kafka’s "The Trial" (para 95), in a passage that was obliquely (and, some might say, rather bitchily) criticised by Lord Rodger (para 110) as an inapposite reference that tended to trivialise a difficult problem.

It may be that the real difference between the majority and the minority in Roberts is on how abstract the issue before the House was. All judges recognised that the circumstances of each individual case have to be considered in deciding whether the adopted course was fair to the prisoner. The minority may have attempted to pre-emptively reject the SAA procedure before being able to see whether it worked in this case.

Ordinary self-control

Six days before Timoti v R was decided, applying the Rongonui interpretation of provocation, the Privy Council addressed the English law of provocation in Attorney-General for Jersey v Holley [2005] UKPC 23 (15 June 2005). Because of the need to sort out inconsistent decisions of the House of Lords and the Privy Council, the Board in Holley consisted of 9 members. It turned out that three of them, all with considerable criminal law experience, dissented. In the result, the majority took the same approach as had the New Zealand Court of Appeal (by a majority) in R v Rongonui [2000] 2 NZLR 385. Accordingly, the standard of self-control is fixed at that which the ordinary person has, and the level of provocation is to be assessed taking into account such matters as are relevant including, where appropriate, features peculiar to the defendant.

In Holley the Privy Council was dealing with law that was the same as that which applies in England. Plainly, the intention was to overrule (so to speak) the House of Lords majority decision in R v Smith (Morgan) [2001] 1 AC 146.

There is an air of unreality about distinguishing between the effect of provocative acts or words on the accused’s actual self-control, on the one hand, and the effect of those acts or words on the level of provocation he experienced, on the other. While the conceptual model applied in the Holley and Rongonui cases has a pleasing elegance, its use must be reviewed in the light of changes in the law concerning homicide. When the sentence for murder was mandatory life imprisonment, whereas life imprisonment was the maximum for manslaughter, there was some point in having the "partial defence" of provocation. Now, with the sentence for murder being a maximum of life imprisonment, provocation could be better placed as a matter relevant to sentencing. However, one should acknowledge that this is to ignore the symbolic significance of the terminology describing the offence. If provocation was limited to being a matter relevant to sentence for murder or manslaughter it could be understood in a more flexible sense than it is as a partial defence to murder.

Update: the partial defence of provocation has been repealed in New Zealand, from 8 December 2009.

June hiatus

Your blogger is on vacation. Back in July.

Evidence Bill (5)

What assistance in interpreting the proposed evidence legislation will the courts be able to obtain from the common law?

In the absence of any statement from the Attorney-General to Parliament that the Evidence Bill conflicts with the Bill of Rights, it is reasonable to expect that ambiguities and obscurities of the kind discussed in previous blog entries in this series may be resolved by courts with the assistance of cases interpreting the Bill of rights. An example is the relative importance of fairness to the accused, as compared with fairness to the prosecution or fairness to a witness. Given the origins of the Evidence Bill in the Law Commission’s proposed Evidence Code, we are justified in having some suspicions about the Evidence Bill’s claims about its own status.

Clause 5 gives a starting point from which this topic can be explored:

5 Application
(1) If there is an inconsistency between the provisions of this Act and any other enactment, the provisions of that other enactment prevail, unless this Act provides otherwise.

The question is, therefore, is there some other provision in this Bill that overrides the Bill of Rights and the law that has evolved interpreting the Bill of Rights? Clause 10 refers to the common law:

10 Interpretation of Act
(1) This Act---
(a) must be interpreted in a way that promotes its purpose and principles; and
(b) is not subject to any rule that statutes in derogation of the common law should be strictly construed; but
(c) may be interpreted having regard to the common law, but only to the extent that the common law is consistent with---
(i) its provisions; and
(ii) the promotion of its purpose and its principles; and
(iii)the application of the rule in section 12.
(2) Subsection (1) does not affect the application of the Interpretation Act 1999 to this Act.

Accordingly, to decide whether the right of the accused to a fair trial takes precedence over the right of the prosecution to a fair trial, we may have regard to the common law (which has established the primacy of the accused’s right to a fair trial), and then qualify that position if required to do so by the provisions of the Evidence Bill. If, then, the Evidence Bill does not state what the relationship of these rights is, the common law would apparently remain operative.
This appears to be consistent with clause 12:

12 Evidential matters not provided for
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 to 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.

Thus the problem we are concerned with has to be resolved by the common law, to the extent that it is consistent with the purposes and principles in cl 6 to 8. The relevant provision here is cl 6:

6 Purpose
The purpose of this Act is to help secure the just determination of proceedings by---
… (b) promoting fairness to parties and witnesses

Although the point is arguable, this legislative purpose is not necessarily inconsistent with the common law’s ranking of the importance of the interests in a fair trial.

[Update: the Evidence Bill, in a revised form, was enacted in November 2006 as the Evidence Act 2006, its provisions to come into force at dates to be specified by the Governor-General in Council. The purposes of the Act, in s 6, have been expanded to include "providing rules of evidence that recognise the importance of the rights affirmed by the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990". This makes it clear that the Evidence Act is to be interpreted to give effect to the accused's absolute right to a fair trial.]

Another area in which the common law may remain important is the reliability of hearsay evidence. The common law developed the rule against hearsay, and its exceptions, in an effort to ensure that relevant evidence is reliable. Reliability is also of central concern to the Evidence Bill’s proposed reform of the law concerning hearsay. In particular, cl 18 provides:

18 Admissibility of hearsay
(1) A hearsay statement is admissible in any proceeding if---
(a) the circumstances relating to the statement provide reasonable assurance that the statement is reliable; …

What, for example, will be the status of the common law rules concerning the hearsay statements of those who act in concert with the accused in pursuance of a pre-arranged plan? These rules are referred to by various names, in particular as the pre-concert exception, and they apply not just to conspiracy cases, but also to any case where the hearsay statement was made by a person apparently in pursuance of a common plan.

In Canada, where the pre-concert exception has been stated in more precise terms than it has in New Zealand, the Supreme Court has recently held that these rules are in fact reliability rules, applicable under the reformed hearsay law: R v Mapara [2005] SCC 23 (27 April 2005). It is therefore likely that if the Evidence Bill is enacted in its present form in this respect, the common law pre-concert rules would remain applicable and could continue to be developed.

Evidence Bill (4)

The need to avoid a substantial miscarriage of justice is the pervasive criterion for the correctness of decisions, considered individually and collectively, made by the trial judge. It is undoubtedly true, as Lord Rodger recently observed in relation to fairness, that the appellate court may have the advantage of a clearer perspective on whether a substantial miscarriage of justice has occurred: Holland v HM Advocate (Devolution) [2005] UKPC D1 (11 May 2005), para 41. It is therefore a natural, and widespread practice throughout the common law jurisdictions, for appellate courts to have to consider whether any miscarriage of justice that had occurred was indeed substantial. If it was not, appeals will be dismissed. Trial judges, absorbed in their task of trying to make the law work, will naturally bear in mind this ultimate criterion.

Substantial miscarriages of justice are currently seen as being of two types. The first arises where error at trial deprives the accused of a reasonable chance of an acquittal. This does not necessarily mean that the trial was unfair, as it includes situations of freshly obtained evidence which do not impugn the fairness of the trial, only the correctness of its result. Other examples of loss of a reasonable chance of acquittal may involve trial unfairness. The second type of substantial miscarriage of justice does invlove trial fairness. It includes cases where the course taken resulted in bias, actual or perceived, and cases where the trial was not according to law. In this second type of substantial miscarriage of justice, loss of a reasonable chance of acquittal is irrelevant, as even a person who is patently guilty is entitled to trial according to law: Randall v R [2002] UKPC 19 (16 April 2002); [2002] 1 WLR 2237 (PC), at 2251 para 28.

Thus the two elements, loss of a reasonable chance of acquittal, and loss of the right to a trial that is fair to the accused, are of primary importance. This should be reflected in the overarching provisions of evidence law.

In its application to criminal proceedings, the Evidence Bill falls short of recognising the primacy of these elements. Clause 6 states:

6 Purpose
The purpose of this Act is to help secure the just determination of proceedings by---
(a) providing for facts to be established by the application of logical rules; and
(b) promoting fairness to parties and witnesses; and
(c) protecting rights of confidentiality and other important public interests; and
(d) avoiding unjustifiable expense and delay.

The expression "fairness to parties and witnesses" does not recognise the ranking of the importance of fairness to the accused, to the prosecution, and to witnesses.

[Update: the Evidence Bill was enacted, in revised form, as the Evidence Act 2006. Its purposes have been expanded by inserting in s 6 the following purpose: "providing rules of evidence that recognise the importance of the rights affirmed by the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990". This requires the Courts to recognise the absolute nature of the accused's right to a fair trial.]

Again, cl 8, referred to in the second instalment of this series of blog entries, states:

8 General exclusion
In any proceeding, the Judge must exclude evidence if its probative value is outweighed by the risk that the evidence will---
(a) have an unfairly prejudicial effect on the outcome of the proceeding; or
(b) needlessly prolong the proceeding.

This does not explain the point of view from which fairness is to be assessed. It is fairness to the accused that has primary importance.

[Update: the Evidence Act 2006, has a revised form of cl 8, adding the following as s 8(2): "In determining whether the probative value of evidence is outweighed by the risk that the evidence will have an unfairly prejudicial effect on a criminal proceeding, the Judge must take into account the right of the defendant to offer an effective defence." This should, together with the reference to the Bill of Rights in s 6, above, incorporate the requirement that the trial must be fair to the accused into the weighing exercise, making it the overriding requirement.]

It is not clear that the inherent jurisdiction of the court to act so as to prevent an abuse of its process will come to the rescue of the primary elements:

11 Inherent powers not affected
(1) The powers inherent in a court to regulate and prevent abuse of its procedure are not affected by this Act except to the extent that this Act provides otherwise.
(2) Despite subsection (1) a court must have regard to the purpose and the principles set out in sections 6 to 8 when exercising inherent powers to regulate and prevent abuse of its procedure.

[Update: the Evidence Act 2006 replaces subclause (1) of cl 11 with the following, as s 11(1):
"(1) The inherent and implied powers of a court are not affected by this Act,
except to the extent that this Act provides otherwise."]

It is unsatisfactory for the fundamental elements to be obscured by this vagueness.

The relationship between the legislation and the common law powers to prevent abuse of process are clearer in the Australian uniform Evidence Act 1995 (C’th), s 11 of which provides:

General powers of a court
(1) The power of a court to control the conduct of a proceeding is not affected by this Act, except so far as this Act provides otherwise expressly or by necessary intendment.
(2) In particular, the powers of a court with respect to abuse of process in a proceeding are not affected.

The Australian legislation, however, is also unsatisfactory in that its general provisions fail to distinguish fairness to the accused from fairness to the parties, and they give overarching importance to the flawed weighing of probative value against unfairly prejudicial effect (see the second blog entry in the present series).

It seems that the ideal legislative model has yet to be constructed. This is hardly surprising in this rapidly developing area of the common law. Many of the leading cases have been decided since the current project to revise our evidence law began.

Evidence Bill (3)

The third of the evidence topics requiring the exercise of judicial judgment is the method by which judges act to ensure the fairness of the trial for the accused. It is beyond dispute that the accused has the right to a fair trial, and that this right is essential, fundamental and absolute.

The need for fairness at trial may require the judge to give warnings to the jury about matters such as lies allegedly told by the accused; the risks associated with particular categories of witnesses such as accomplices, children, or people with impairments that may affect the reliability of their evidence; identification evidence; and delayed complaints about sexual matters.

I will consider here how the Bill addresses the subject of judicial warnings about the significance of lies allegedly told by the accused. The relevant provision is:

120 Judicial warnings about lies
(1) This section applies to evidence offered in a criminal proceeding that states a defendant has lied either before or during the proceeding.
(2) If evidence of a defendant's lie is offered in a criminal proceeding tried with a jury, the Judge is not obliged to give a specific direction as to what inference the jury may draw from that evidence.
(3) Despite subsection (2), if, in a criminal proceeding tried with a jury, the Judge is of the opinion that the jury may place undue weight on evidence of a defendant's lie, the Judge must warn the jury that---
(a) the jury must be satisfied before using the evidence that the defendant did lie; and
(b) people lie for various reasons; and
(c) the jury should not necessarily conclude that, just because the defendant lied, the defendant is guilty of the offence for which the defendant is being tried.
(4) In a criminal proceeding tried without a jury, the Judge must have regard to the matters set out in paragraphs (a) to (c) of subsection (3) before placing any weight on evidence of a defendant's lie.

The Bill departs from the Law Commission’s proposal in its Evidence Code, cl 110(3), by the omission of the requirement for a warning if the defence asks that one be given.

Potential shortcomings of these proposals are:

• Omission of a requirement for the judge to consult with counsel on the need for a lies direction before summing up. [Update: the Evidence Act 2006 revises this by inserting in subsection 3 the requirement that the Judge must give a lies warning if the defence so requests.]
• Omission of a requirement to direct the jury to ignore the alleged dishonesty unless they (ie jurors individually, not the jury collectively) are sure that the defendant lied. Clause 120(3)(a) does not indicate what the jury should do if they are not satisfied the defendant lied.
• Omission of a direction that the jury must be satisfied to the standard of beyond reasonable doubt that the defendant lied before they can take the dishonesty into account.
• Omission of the need to give illustrations of why people might lie for reasons that do not support the prosecution case: to bolster a true defence, to protect somebody else, to conceal some other conduct which is not the subject of the proceedings, panic, distress, confusion.
• Omission of a distinction between dishonesty that is only relevant on the issue of the defendant’s credibility, and dishonesty that lends support to the prosecution case.
• Omission of a direction that the dishonesty can only support the prosecution case if the jury is sure beyond reasonable doubt that there is no innocent reason for it.

I have drawn these "shortcomings" by comparison with the model directions issues by the Judicial Studies Board in the United Kingdom.

No one can deny that the topic of lies directions has been troublesome for judges. There is a risk that efforts to simplify will result in departure from what is appropriate.

One can see how difficult the subject is by looking at Zoneff v R (2000) 112 A Crim R 114 (HCA), where 4 judges held that the giving of a lies direction had been a substantial miscarriage of justice because it gave unfair emphasis to the alleged lies, while the fifth judge, dissenting, held that a lies direction should indeed have been given, but that it had been given wrongly here, although that error did not amount to a substantial miscarriage of justice.

My view is that Cl 120 of the Bill, if indeed the topic of lies is to be included, should be revised to conform to the practice in the United Kingdom, although a further point emerges: the UK legislation, the Criminal Justice Act 2003, does not deal with how juries should be directed about lies. The search for perfection continues, with the task of announcing the current best practice being that of the Judicial Studies Board. It is not yet the time to set this law in legislation. The Australian uniform Evidence Act 1995 (Cth) also omits specifying the contents of lies directions.

Treating correctly evidence that alleges the accused told lies can be vital to the fairness of trials. What is appropriate will vary with the circumstances of each case, and the matter may best be left for the judge to deal with as part of the task of ensuring that the trial is fair to the accused.