What are the mental elements of dangerous driving?

Dangerous driving is risk-based, not negligence-based: King v The Queen [2012] HCA 24 (20 June 2012). It is not necessary to ask whether there has been a sufficiently great level of negligence to attract criminal rather than merely civil liability. Such negligence could be sufficient if it reached a high enough level, but it is not a necessary ingredient of dangerous driving. So, on the 3-2 majority's reasoning in King, the judge had not been wrong to direct the jury that the prosecution did not have to prove criminal negligence [48], [50].


The appellant submitted that the judge had steered the jury away from what in the context of the trial was conviction on the lesser offences. More serious than dangerous driving causing death were the offences on which he had been convicted, culpable driving causing death. The judge, said the appellant, had given the jury the impression that dangerous driving causing death was too trivial an offence to reflect his culpability, as it didn't even require criminal negligence. In diminishing the seriousness of dangerous driving (here, the conviction sought by the defendant) the judge may have conveyed to the jury that the more serious offence of culpable driving could more easily be committed.


You can see that while the judge had "not been wrong" to direct the jury that criminal negligence did not have to be proved for dangerous driving, at the same time a direction that criminal negligence was required would also have been correct in the circumstances. Such negligence would be sufficient, albeit not necessary for liability. The majority should have held that the judge was wrong in the context of the evidence. The minority, Heydon and Bell JJ, would have allowed the appeal on the grounds that this had been a misdirection which had created a substantial miscarriage of justice because the defendant may have been deprived of a more favourable verdict. They substantially agreed with the majority on the elements of dangerous driving.


When a court asks whether the driving in question demonstrated a marked departure from the standard of care that a reasonable person would observe in all the circumstances (R v Roy, 2012 SCC 26, discussed here on 15 June 2012), it is focusing on one sort of dangerousness: that which is accompanied by negligence. Usually examples of dangerous driving will involve some degree of negligence, above a minimum level (marked departure from the reasonable person's standard of care), and this can include even momentary inattention in circumstances where particular care and attention are required (King at [46]). However negligence is not an element of dangerous driving (Bell J [94]), just as (this is me now, not Bell J) stabbing is not an element of murder. But just as in the circumstances of a given case stabbing may have to be proved to secure a conviction for murder, so too negligence may have to be proved to secure a conviction for dangerous driving.


It is inevitable that jurors will have to assess the driving in the instant case against an imagined scale of qualities of driving. Somewhere on the scale careless driving becomes dangerous driving, and somewhere else on the scale dangerous driving becomes a more serious offence. The statutory context is always important. The extent to which the defendant departed from the objective standard required by the law for all drivers has to be assessed (Bell J at [74]). It is of no use to tell jurors that the defendant's driving must be such as to "merit criminal punishment" (Bell J [74], Heydon J [68]) because the criterion for guilt should not be left to jurors but rather is for the law to lay down. The criterion is whether the manner of driving gave rise to potential danger in a real sense to a person in the vicinity (French CJ, Crennan and Kiefel JJ at [46], applying Barwick CJ in McBride v The Queen [1966] HCA 22, (1966) 115 CLR 44). Plainly, in assessing responsibility for dangerous driving it is necessary to compare the level of danger to that required for liability for comparable offences. This does not mean that comparison with civil law negligence is useful: Bell J at [102].


Bell J stated [92] the mens rea requirement for dangerous driving as being confined to "the intention to do the acts involved in driving". She said that liability is subject to an objective test, citing the old case R v Gosney [1971] 2 QB 674 at 679. But in Gosney D 's conviction was quashed because she had made the same mistake as a reasonable driver would have made, and the Court of Appeal held that dangerous driving was not an offence of strict liability (for this point I rely on my 1978 Fourth Edition of Smith and Hogan, Criminal Law, pp 88-89). Bell J's dictum on mens rea is difficult to reconcile with negligence being a sufficient but not a necessary condition for liability.


By comparison, the Supreme Court of Canada required in Roy, above, mens rea elements of either an unreasonable failure to recognise a risk of the required kind or an awareness of the actual risk created by the driving and a deliberate running of that risk. The culpability or fault requirement inherent in the notion of mens rea is generally said to consist of either intention or recklessness as to the essential factual elements of an offence. But the meaning of intention in criminal law is context-dependent, sometimes extending to consequences and sometimes not.


Since we are not allowed to include criminally negligent failure to recognise danger as an element of the offence, we must slip it in as a relevant consequence under intention. The mens rea elements of dangerous driving here would therefore be: either intention to drive with knowledge of the danger created by the manner of driving, or intention to drive accompanied by a failure to appreciate the danger that a reasonable person would recognise as being created by the manner of driving.

Responsibility for dangerous driving

The offence of dangerous driving is carefully analysed in R v Roy, 2012 SCC 26 (1 June 2012), where the appellant had been convicted of dangerous driving causing death. He had pulled out from a stop sign into the path of an oncoming vehicle. There was thickening fog and visibility was poor.
Cromwell J, for the Court, observed [1]:

"Dangerous driving causing death is a serious criminal offence punishable by up to 14 years in prison. Like all criminal offences, it consists of two components: prohibited conduct — operating a motor vehicle in a dangerous manner resulting in death — and a required degree of fault — a marked departure from the standard of care that a reasonable person would observe in all the circumstances. The fault component is critical, as it ensures that criminal punishment is only imposed on those deserving the stigma of a criminal conviction. While a mere departure from the standard of care justifies imposing civil liability, only a marked departure justifies the fault requirement for this serious criminal offence."

On the reach of the criminal law, he continued:

"[2] Defining and applying this fault element is important, but also challenging, given the inherently dangerous nature of driving. Even simple carelessness may result in tragic consequences which may tempt judges and juries to unduly extend the reach of the criminal law to those responsible. Yet, as the Court put in R. v. Beatty, 2008 SCC 5 (CanLII), 2008 SCC 5, [2008] 1 S.C.R. 49, at para. 34, "If every departure from the civil norm is to be criminalized, regardless of the degree, we risk casting the net too widely and branding as criminals persons who are in reality not morally blameworthy." Giving careful attention to the fault element of the offence is essential if we are to avoid making criminals out of the merely careless."

On 25 February 2008 I discussed Beatty and its various judicial analyses of the ingredients of dangerous driving. A minority approach in that case was to use mens rea to assist in determining whether there was an actus reus, which indeed seems conventional (actus non facit reum nisi mens sit rea, or words to that effect), but it ignores the first requirement which is an act that causes harm. A level of bad conduct must exist before it can come within the reach of the criminal law. Otherwise, outwardly normal driving would be criminally dangerous if the driver's state of mind was a marked departure from the standard of care expected of drivers. In Beatty all judges agreed that the acquittal should be restored, but their reasoning was divergent. McLachlin CJ, Binnie and LeBel JJ held that a momentary crossing of the centre line was not an actus reus of dangerous driving. Charron, Bastarache, Deschamps, Abella and Rothstein JJ held – correctly I think - that it was. All judges agreed there was no mens rea as there was only a momentary lapse of attention.
So the Court's attention in Roy was on the sensitive issue of actus reus. It is not, said the Court, the consequences (collision and death) that determine whether there was an actus reus, but the quality of the driving itself [34]:

"In considering whether the actus reus has been established, the question is whether the driving, viewed objectively, was dangerous to the public in all of the circumstances. The focus of this inquiry must be on the risks created by the accused's manner of driving, not the consequences, such as an accident in which he or she was involved. As Charron J. put it, at para. 46 of Beatty, "The court must not leap to its conclusion about the manner of driving based on the consequence. There must be a meaningful inquiry into the manner of driving" (emphasis added). A manner of driving can rightly be qualified as dangerous when it endangers the public. It is the risk of damage or injury created by the manner of driving that is relevant, not the consequences of a subsequent accident. In conducting this inquiry into the manner of driving, it must be borne in mind that driving is an inherently dangerous activity, but one that is both legal and of social value (Beatty, at paras. 31 and 34). Accidents caused by these inherent risks materializing should generally not result in criminal convictions."

Personally I would take the consequences of the driving as relevant to whether there was an actus reus: what was the harm? Not just pulling out from a stop sign. Hitting another vehicle was relevant too. Be that as it may, the Court continued by reasoning that if there is an actus reus, attention turns to whether there is a fault element or mens rea:

"[36] The focus of the mens rea analysis is on whether the dangerous manner of driving was the result of a marked departure from the standard of care which a reasonable person would have exercised in the same circumstances (Beatty, at para. 48). It is helpful to approach the issue by asking two questions. The first is whether, in light of all of the relevant evidence, a reasonable person would have foreseen the risk and taken steps to avoid it if possible. If so, the second question is whether the accused's failure to foresee the risk and take steps to avoid it, if possible, was a marked departure from the standard of care expected of a reasonable person in the accused's circumstances."

The "marked departure" requirement serves to separate criminal from civil responsibility. Momentary lapses of attention can occur in good drivers and in appropriate circumstances may give rise to civil liability or to convictions for careless driving [37]. As established in Beatty and cited by the Court in Roy [38]:

"The marked departure from the standard expected of a reasonable person in the same circumstances — a modified objective standard — is the minimum fault requirement. The modified objective standard means that, while the reasonable person is placed in the accused's circumstances, evidence of the accused's personal attributes (such as age, experience and education) is irrelevant unless it goes to the accused's incapacity to appreciate or to avoid the risk (para. 40). Of course, proof of subjective mens rea — that is, deliberately dangerous driving — would support a conviction for dangerous driving, but proof of that is not required (Charron J., at para. 47; see also McLachlin C.J., at paras. 74-75, and Fish J., at para. 86)."

And now for the tricky point, contentious in Beatty: when can an inference of mens rea be drawn from the actus reus? The Court gave this answer [42]:

"Driving which, objectively viewed, is simply dangerous, will not on its own support the inference that the accused departed markedly from the standard of care of a reasonable person in the circumstances (Charron J., at para. 49; see also McLachlin C.J., at para. 66, and Fish J., at para. 88). In other words, proof of the actus reus of the offence, without more, does not support a reasonable inference that the required fault element was present. Only driving that constitutes a marked departure from the norm may reasonably support that inference."

The trouble with this approach is that it is perfectly normal for the law to hold a person responsible for an intended act that causes harm, and intention is usually inferred from the conscious performance of an act. There is no such thing as driving that is merely "simply dangerous" because by definition dangerous driving is driving that is a marked departure from the standard of a reasonable driver. This imagined "simply dangerous" driving should not be immune from the usual approach to determining intention and responsibility, and "on its own" it should support an inference that it was intended. The Court acknowledged [42, above] that "simply dangerous" driving is an actus reus. It is important to remember we are only talking about the drawing of an inference of mens rea, and in the circumstances of a particular case there may be facts giving rise to competing inferences or facts that strengthen the inference of mens rea.
The Court in Roy was concerned to avoid extending the reach of the criminal law beyond what was appropriate in view of the law's purposes. It appropriately set a high level for the required harm (the actus reus) but then needlessly constrained the process of inferring the existence of the mental requirements for criminal responsibility. In Roy the trial judge had inferred mens rea from the fact that the driving was objectively dangerous, and the Supreme Court held that that was wrong [44]. Given the thickening fog, the stop sign, the poor visibility and the oncoming traffic, the Court concluded [51]:

" ... While the appellant's act of driving out from the stop sign was apparently a voluntary act, there was no evidence to support the conclusion that the appellant was in fact aware of the risk he was creating in doing so and deliberately chose to run that risk ... ."

This seems to mean that the evidence suggested that the appellant had been well aware of the risk but had simply, and excusably, misjudged the position and speed of the oncoming vehicle. He knew there was a risk but he did not correctly measure the level of risk. The Court's assessment of the facts was [55]:

" ... on any realistic scenario consistent with the evidence, the time between visibility and impact would be only a few seconds. In my view, the appellant's decision to pull onto the highway is consistent with simple misjudgment of speed and distance in difficult conditions and poor visibility. The record here discloses a single and momentary error in judgment with tragic consequences. It does not support a reasonable inference that the appellant displayed a marked departure from the standard of care expected of a reasonable person in the same circumstances so as to justify conviction for the serious criminal offence of dangerous driving causing death."

Yes indeed, the defendant was not guilty because of absence of mens rea. I think there was an actus reus, just as there really was one in Beatty: pulling out from a stop sign and hitting an oncoming vehicle is a dangerous act, just as crossing the centre line while driving and hitting a car on the other side of the road is a dangerous act, but in each case the absence of mens rea supported acquittal. There was not the degree of inattention required in the circumstances to support a finding of sufficient fault for attribution of criminal responsibility.

Criminal responsibility, insanity, diminished responsibility and the role of the common law

The criteria for holding a person (D) responsible in criminal law for a particular harm emerge from moral decisions. These criteria are manifest as statutory laws and as judicially created common laws. For example, D's acts must be voluntary. They must cause the relevant harm. There must be no circumstance of justification or excuse.

The recent Supreme Court of Canada case Maybin v R, 2010 SCC 24 noted here, highlighted the moral basis for attribution of a sufficient causal connection between D's acts and the harm. The Privy Council has recently referred to the moral dimension of diminished responsibility: Daniel v The State (Trinidad and Tobago) [2012] UKPC 15 at [37]-[38].

The moral dimension is often recognisable by a requirement for reasonableness. Self-defence justifies killing, or any other form of violence, where it is reasonable for D to cause the harm in the circumstances as he believed them to be. This almost universal formulation of self-defence reflects its common law origins. The common law reflects the customs of the people. Reasonable conduct should be lawful because it is perceived as right.

Is the common law merely residual, ever-diminishing as statute advances? Or is the common law a potentially powerful source of justice? It might seem from the High Court of Australia decision in PGA v The Queen, discussed here recently, that the common law perpetually withers, although that would  - or should - be a misconception. Judges deal with the requirements of justice in particular cases, and with each case there is potential for development of the common law. This should be as true for defences as it is for any other developments that justice requires. By "justice" I mean here the judicially perceived sense of what the community regards as right. For recognition of this ability to develop new defences, see R v Kingston[1994] 3 WLR 519, at 536 (although in R v Cargill [1995] 3 NZLR 263, (1995) 13 CRNZ 291(CA) I was unable to persuade the Court to recognise a new defence of reasonable demand in relation to a charge of blackmail; that development was subsequently made by legislation: Crimes Act 1961, s 237(2)).

Parliament tends to limit defences and to create new offences. It seems to be engaged in extending the scope of acts for which a person can be held criminally responsible. Whether that legislative activity really reflects community perceptions of what is right can be a controversial question. But the important point is that if the courts are perceived by Parliament to be going wrong, legislation can correct that error. Whatever the common law might say, it is trumped by legislation. This is why courts should not be shy about developing the common law.

Daniel, above, prompts us to think about whether a defence of diminished responsibility should be developed at common law where legislation is silent on that. A defence of insanity will not cover all the states of mind that should negate criminal responsibility. The varieties of what in a loose sense may be called mental disorder seem extensive, as anyone who has glanced at the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (4th ed) can see. Some of them, as Daniel illustrates, are states of mind that, if established at trial, should lead to acquittal. A court should be allowed to decide whether in a particular case mental abnormality should attract liability. This is what the court in Norway is currently doing, but under the guise of deciding the question of sanity.

An overview of judicial response to mental deficiencies in the context of the (now, former) statutory partial defence of provocation in New Zealand illustrates how moves from absolute rejection to accommodation can be made. In R v McGregor [1961] NZLR 1069 (CA) the Court declined to extend the meaning of provocation in the absence of statutory authority. Some withdrawal from this absolute position is evident in R v McCarthy [1992] 2 NZLR 550, (1992) 8 CRNZ 58 (CA). A variety of mental weaknesses have been accepted as relevant to whether D had in a non-culpable sense lost his self-control: R v Taaka [1982] 2 NZLR 198 (CA) obsessive compulsive personality, R v Pita (1989) 4 CRNZ 660 (CA) aversion to violence, R v Foreman 18/2/92, CA254/91 active schizophrenic process, R v Oakes [1995] 2 NZLR 673 (CA) battered woman's syndrome, R v Timoti [2005] 1 NZLR 466, (2004) 21 CRNZ 90 (CA) paranoid personality disorder.

Does abolition of provocation as a partial defence to murder mean that none of these factors can have any relevance to the attribution of criminal responsibility generally? I think not. But even on a narrow view that they could only be relevant to whether intention or recklessness, or voluntariness, or causation had been proved, there is sufficient flexibility in the mysteries of fact-finding for morality to have an influence.

Ascertainable law

The law must be ascertainable. This is a requirement for the enforceability of enacted law and for the validity of common law. In jurisdictions where the common law creates offences, it must be possible to find out what they are.

It doesn't matter how sure we now are of what the common law used to be, if it was uncertain when a person did acts that are now alleged to have been contrary to that law.

In PGA v The Queen [2012] HCA 21 (30 May 2012) the issue was whether in 1963 in South Australia, where rape was a common law crime, a wife could withdraw her consent to sexual intercourse with her husband.

To find that out, one would think that it would be sufficient to consult the case law of the time. Were husbands charged with raping their wives? Did judges say that that was rape? What did legal scholars think? If a man went to his lawyer then and asked, what would he have been told?

According to the majority in PGA, a lawyer back then would have concluded that a wife could withdraw her consent to sexual intercourse with her husband. This view would have been reached by considering the fact that marriage is not permanent [59], that marriage is a consensual contract which could be breached by wilful and persistent refusal of sexual relations – implying that some refusal is possible [60], that relevant legislation required cohabitation but did not require matrimonial intercourse as an order to that effect would be unenforceable [60], that a wife had a distinct legal personality from her husband, particularly as to property rights, and this undermined any idea of her being her husband's property [61], and that women had the vote and had recognised rights to commercial and professional lives [60]-[61].

These considerations, according to the majority reasoning, would have led a lawyer in 1963 to advise that a husband could be guilty of raping his wife.

It is for judges or the legislature to change the common law. The majority review at [19]-[24] the meaning of the term "the common law", emphasising how judicial precedents may diminish in value over time. Old decisions can become obsolete and inoperative.

But, one would have thought, it is for judges to say when that obsolescence and inoperativeness has led to a change in the common law, and to declare the new law for the future. The majority in PGA have made that declaration retrospectively. One does not have to say that they are wrong in deciding that a judge in 1963 would have made the same declaration, to recognise the injustice from the point of view of the defendant who now faces historical charges including two counts of rape of his then wife.

Our natural aversion to rape may cloud perception of this injustice. If it was reasonably likely that in 1963 a husband would have been advised that as far as the law was concerned he was entitled to sexual intercourse with his wife because there was no judicial decision to the contrary, the new law was not ascertainable. A court that changed the law, or at least made it ascertainable, should only do so prospectively, acquitting this defendant but making the law clear from then on. Enacted law is "law" if properly enacted, but if it is not reasonably ascertainable it will be unenforceable, whereas common law must be ascertainable in order to be "law". If enacted criminal law is not ascertainable a prosecution should be stayed: Christian v R (The Pitcairn Islands) [2006] UKPC 47 at [24] (not cited in PGA):

"Their Lordships would accept that the fact that a law had not been published and could not reasonably have been known to exist may be a ground for staying a prosecution for contravention of that law as an abuse of process... .",

The ECtHR has upheld convictions where retrospective change in the law has been reasonably foreseeable, as in the removal of the marital exemption defence to rape, upholding R v R [1992] 1 AC 599: SW and CR v UK (1996) 21 E.H.R.R. 363. It may be that with increasing focus on the idea of the rule of law this tolerance of injustice to the defendant whose prosecution marked the change in the law will diminish. The traditional view that judges declare the common law as it has been from time immemorial is now regarded as an outdated legal fiction.


Just as reasonable minds may differ on the application of known law to the facts of a case, so too may reasonable minds differ over how and when the common law may change. An obligation to obey law that has not yet been declared is a form of "common law" not within the definitions recognised by the majority in PGA. It is unjust.


There is plenty of authority for this, as Heydon and Bell JJ demonstrate in their dissenting judgments. A helpful summary from the House of Lords is in R v Rimmington [2005] UKHL 63 especially at [33] which concludes:


"There are two guiding principles: no one should be punished under a law unless it is sufficiently clear and certain to enable him to know what conduct is forbidden before he does it; and no one should be punished for any act which was not clearly and ascertainably punishable when the act was done. If the ambit of a common law offence is to be enlarged, it "must be done step by step on a case by case basis and not with one large leap": R v Clark (Mark) [2003] EWCA Crim 991, [2003] 2 Cr App R 363, para 13."

 There is a risk of cherry-picking authorities in this sort of argument, but I recommend Rogers v Tennessee, 532 U.S. 451 (2001) as an illustration of the upholding of a common law change but only where there had been a pervasive change in the law that should have put the defendant on notice that the law was clearly going to change. The change was not unfair or arbitrary. Scalia J dissented on the grounds that restrictions on legislative retrospective change should also apply to retrospective common law change. But even on the majority view there is a requirement of ascertainability before a defendant is bound by future decisions changing the common law.

Anyway, this interesting case raises questions about who defines the common law, is it just social mores or does it have to be declared by judges, whether retrospective effect should be more acceptable for common law offences than for legislated offences, and the extent to which social and legislative changes in some areas can influence assumptions about the common law in other areas. In New Zealand we have only one common law offence - some forms of contempt of court - but we do have common law defences.  It was not until as recently as 1986 that legislation removed the spousal immunity defence to rape, which implies that it did exist at common law (at least in a form that had been modified by earlier legislation) until then. Some people think we are behind Australia in our development, but - as one who can remember 1963 and the grassy knoll quite clearly - I don't think that in 1986 we were 23 years behind.

What is a verdict?

And for more on procedure as a means of giving effect to the substance of the law, see the failure of this concept in Blueford v Arkansas USSC No 10-1320, 24 May 2012.

A fundamental precept of the criminal law is that a jury will obey instructions from the judge. Here the jury were told the sequence required by the law of Arkansas for the deciding of verdicts on multiple and included charges. A decision on the most serious charge was required first, then the jury would proceed to the next serious, and so on until either they had reached a verdict of guilty, in which case they would stop there, or they had reached not guilty verdicts on each charge.

The jury had difficult reaching the end of this process,and the judge asked if they had decided any of the charges. The foreman said they had agreed that the defendant was not guilty on the two most serious charges. The judge told them to resume their deliberations and try to reach the end of the process. They were unsuccessful and they were discharged. On retrial the defendant was charged with all counts and pleaded previous acquittal on the two most serious ones.

The Supreme Court held by a majority that the special plea was not available. The jury had returned to the jury room and could have changed their minds on the most serious charges - they had not been asked whether they had. There were no verdicts returned at the trial.

Sotomayor J for the minority emphasised the importance of the rule against double jeopardy. She analysed the Arkansas process for deciding multiple charges of this kind and found it most unrealistic for the majority to say the jury might have changed their minds. In reality they had returned verdicts of not guilty on the two most serious charges.

True enough, the ritual incantations had not been followed in receiving the verdicts, but did that matter? What was the point of instructing the jury how to proceed, if that had no consequence because the technical question about verdicts was not asked by the judge? Had the jury decided the most serious charges? Should the prosecution have another opportunity to prove them? Did procedure serve the interests of justice here?

Too late! Or is it ...?

As everyone knows, procedural laws are for bringing the law into effect. Procedure brings the law to life, as I once said. Another thing that everyone knows is that senior appellate courts spend much of their time getting people to be sensible.

Lucaszewski v The District Court in Torun, Poland [2012] UKSC 20 (23 May 2012) gets people to be sensible about time limits for filing notices when statutory requirements are expressed in absolute terms.

The Court did not overrule Mucelli v Govt of Albania [2009] UKHL 2 (21 January 2009), noted here on 23 January 2009, although Lady Hale would have preferred to. However she agreed with the reasoning and conclusion of the leading judgment, delivered by Lord Mance.

Just as Mucelli reminded us of the Latin dies non, so does Lord Mance now remind us of  non constat [19]. These things don't go unnoticed.

Anyway, Lucaszewski allows that timely notice of intention to appeal an extradition order can be given although the document does not comply with the enacted form, if the court decides to permit the informality. Also, where a defendant is a citizen, as opposed to an alien, his civil right to enter and remain in the country attracts the right to a fair hearing when extradition is sought, and the court may extend time for the defendant to file documents if that would promote his rights, even if no discretion to extend time appears on the face of an enactment.

"[37] ...  I am not persuaded that the interests of finality and certainty outweigh the interests of ensuring proper access to justice by appeal in the limited number of extradition cases where this would otherwise be denied. There would not be "a reasonable relationship of proportionality between the means employed and the aim sought to be achieved".

Although this introduces a discrimination between aliens and citizens, which concerned Lady Hale, the more general point is that procedure must promote the aims of justice.

Causing moral responsibility

In Maybin v R, 2012 SCC 24 (18 May 2012) Karakatsanis J for the Court discusses the criteria for determining that D's acts have caused the actus reus, here the death of V, to an extent that criminal responsibility could be attributed to D. Essentially this is a moral question.

The legal requirement is that D's acts were a significant contributing cause of the death. There may be several causes of the death, but if D's contribution was more than de minimis, causation will be established for the purpose of deciding whether D is criminally responsible.

Legal responsibility  requires that D's acts had sufficient connection to that harm to warrant attribution of criminal responsibility [16]. There might be an insufficient connection if there was an intervening act so that D's acts were not a significant contributing cause of the harm. Such intervening acts might not sever the causal link between D's acts and the harm if they should have been foreseen by D at the time he acted [26], and this does not mean that D should have foreseen the exact details of the intervening act, but some sort of appreciation of what might happen, akin perhaps to the mens rea requirements of the offence, may be enough to make D responsible [36], [38].

The independent acts might not sever the causal connection between D's acts and the harm if, although those independent acts were unforeseeable, the relative weights of the causes of the harm [46] were such as to leave a more than minimal causal link attributable to D.

In any event, these are just analytical aids, not legal tests, for determining causal responsibility. In different factual matrices they might point in different ways. The fundamental question is always whether D's acts were a significant contributing cause of the harm.

The moral question whether D should be held responsible when there are multiple causes of a harm will often attract different answers, as is illustrated in the differences of opinion in the Court of Appeal here. There had been a fight in a bar and D had knocked out V, who was then struck by a third person, a bouncer. V died and D was charged with manslaughter. You be the judge (after reading the full facts in the case, of course).

Suppressing contempt

Our Court of Appeal has today confirmed the inherent power of a court to suppress its judgments on an interim basis in order to protect the defendant's right to a fair trial: Siemer v Solicitor-General [2012] NZCA 188.

This is a departure from Privy Council and House of Lords decisions: Independent Publishing Ltd v Attorney-General of Trinidad and Tobago [2004] UKPC 26, [2005] 1 AC 190, Attorney-General v Leveller Magazine Ltd [1979] AC 440. Since the establishment of our Supreme Court, decisions of the Privy Council from other jurisdictions are of persuasive authority only [37].

The Court of Appeal held [91] that the same position on suppression orders applies under the Criminal Procedure Act 2011 ("CPA"). I will consider the other aspects of the judgment by reference to what the position should be after commencement of that Act.

Of equal interest is the Court's discussion of contempt proceedings. Sometimes contempt is an offence. This is when an enactment creates the offence and provides for a punishment. Provisions doing that, however, provide that they do not limit the power of a court to punish for contempt: see s 365(3) of the CPA.

Contempt that is punishable pursuant to the court's inherent power is probably not an "offence" although there is no definition of "offence" in the CPA except in the schedule where a definition is inserted in another act. In any event, the Court of Appeal accepted [96] that contempt proceedings outside those defined in an enactment are neither criminal nor civil proceedings, and they are not prosecuted by the laying of an information (nor, by implication, by the filing of a charging document under the CPA). Although the criminal standard of proof applies, these sorts of contempt do not result in a conviction but rather in a "finding" of contempt. Such a finding, and the sentence, may be appealed under the CPA, s 260.

If contempt outside the statutory definition is an offence, proceedings in respect of it should be commenced under the CPA by the filing of a charging document. However it is more likely that it is not an offence and the Solicitor-General commences proceedings for this sort of contempt by the filing of an originating application and supporting affidavits, and the defendant may answer by affidavit [93]. The criminal procedure of entering a plea does not apply.

In Siemer the appellant had published a judgment that the High Court had temporarily suppressed. That suppression order was designed to protect the right of defendants in a notorious criminal case to fair trials. As a result of losing the appeal the defendant was ordered to commence serving his sentence of six weeks in prison.

Dicta in this case [68]-[72] on the right to a fair trial are significant too. The defendants in the criminal case had the right to a fair trial and the court used its inherent power to regulate its procedures for the ultimate objective of securing fairness. However Mr Siemer, who was not subject to criminal proceedings but only to the "neither criminal nor civil" proceedings for contempt, did not have the protection of the rights given by the New Zealand Bill of Rights Act 1990 to people who are charged with offences [95]. But he did have the right to justice, enjoyed by everyone pursuant to s 27 of the Bill of Rights, which applies the rules of natural justice to the determination of his rights, obligations or interests.

My 500th posting: Probative value and independent evidence

Probative value is the tendency that an item of evidence has to prove an issue in a case. Does the measure of that tendency depend on other independent evidence in the case?

For example, consider these facts on a charge of murder:

"[2] ... A hair found on the deceased's thumbnail had been subjected to mitochondrial DNA testing. The results of that testing showed two things: first, that the appellant could have been the donor of the hair and, second, how common the DNA profile found in the hair was in the community. This second aspect of the results was expressed in evidence both as a frequency ratio [sometimes called a "random occurrence ratio" or a "frequency estimate"] and as an exclusion percentage. The expert who had conducted the test gave evidence to the effect that one in 1,600 people in the general population (which is to say the whole world) would be expected to share the DNA profile that was found in the hair (a frequency ratio) and that 99.9 per cent of people would not be expected to have a DNA profile matching that of the hair (an exclusion percentage)."

The case, Aytugrul v R [2012] HCA 15 (18 April 2012) concentrated on whether expressing the statistics as an exclusion percentage was improperly prejudicial. It was argued for the appellant that to say 99.9% of people wouldn't match suggests that it is 99.9% likely that the appellant was guilty.

In the circumstances of this appeal it was unanimously held that there was no improper prejudice because the jury had been carefully directed on how they should reason. Determining whether there is improper prejudice requires having regard to the whole of the evidence [30].

The question I started with did not need to be answered in this case because the appeal turned on whether there was illegitimate prejudice, but Heydon J considered it in some detail [41]-[65], especially in relation to whether giving evidence of one way of expressing the scientific results rendered an alternative and equivalent way redundant and inadmissible.

Evidence about the matching of samples is like all other evidence: it raises the question, given the existence of this evidence, what is the probability that the defendant is guilty? This probability of guilt is the ultimate issue and involves consideration of all the admissible evidence in the case that the fact-finder accepts as true. The probative value of an item of evidence is its tendency to prove an issue, and where that is the ultimate issue, the question arises as to whether probative value should be assessed by considering the item of evidence in isolation, or whether its probative value should be considered in the context of other evidence.

Logicians would be isolationists but with some qualification. Independent evidence is irrelevant but dependent evidence is relevant to the probative value of an item of evidence, as is contextual evidence.

Usually evidence of the sort of match in Aytugrul would be given in terms such as: "whatever the probability that the defendant is guilty based on the other evidence in the case, this evidence increases that probability by 1600 times." Sometimes the same thing might be said in words rather than numbers, for example by saying the evidence strongly supports the proposition that the defendant is guilty (see [32]).

I am assuming that the ratio would result in a figure of 1600, although that is not clear. There might (here I am not referring to the particular facts of this case) be innocent explanations for the evidence of a match, even if the defendant was guilty: the test result might have been a false positive so that in reality it was someone else's hair, or the defendant's hair might have been transferred there when the police had custody of the body, or there might have been an error in handling scene exhibits and a mix-up between what was found on the victim and medical samples from the defendant. The probability of those sorts of errors, although normally small (but if larger they could make the test result irrelevant - see my concluding comment below), should be taken into account. In that sense some other evidence in the case could be relevant to the probative value of the evidence of a match. But that other evidence would not be independent of the existence of the hair.

Independent evidence, such as evidence of the time at which the defendant and the victim were together, and the time of death, does not affect the probative value of the evidence of the match between the hair and the defendant. It does not affect the numerator or the denominator of the likelihood ratio. Those are based on assumptions, or "givens": that the prosecution hypothesis of guilt is true, and that the defence hypothesis of innocence is true.

I infer from the extract from Dr Buckleton's evidence at [16], where he mentioned the lesser of two evils, that he would prefer not to put his evidence as either a random occurrence ratio or an exclusion percentage. The reference in the judge's summing up to Dr Buckleton's evidence of expecting the occurrence of that sort of hair in the relevant population of innocent people as between one in 50 people and one in 100 or less, seems to be a reference to the denominator of the likelihood ratio being between 0.01 and 0.02. Dr Buckleton usually gives his results as a likelihood ratio following the Bayesian approach, and he supports the "Bayes and the Law" site. Plainly there was a discrepancy between the experts in Aytugrul as to the statistical values. In any event, in this case Dr Buckleton said that the test results did not indicate a match: Aytugrul v R [2010] NSWCCA 272 at [55]. The implication of that evidence seems to have been lost in this case.

Significantly, the High Court recognised that the question of how this sort of evidence should be expressed is a question of psychology upon which the Court would need further evidence before making a legal rule about that [22]-[24]. (I recommend to anyone interested in this sort of thing the Nobel laureate psychologist Daniel Kahneman's "Thinking, Fast and Slow".) The Court did not say that evidence of this kind must be given in the form of a likelihood ratio, and it specifically did not lay down a rule that it could never be given as an exclusion percentage [21].

Note the difference between the probative value of evidence and the effect of its combination with other evidence in the case on the ultimate probability of guilt. In BBH v R, discussed here on 31 March 2012, it was this latter combination that was relevant in considering the Pfennig requirement.

There is a need for experts to agree on how to express their conclusions when giving evidence, and for legal professionals and judges to become familiar with correct reasoning with probabilities. In the NSWCCA in this case (see above link) McLellan CJ at CL, whose judgment is well worth reading for its references to specialist articles - including a paper by Kahneman - on the effects on juries of different ways of expressing statistical results, held that the trial was unfair, notwithstanding that the verdict was, on the evidence, not unreasonable, because the jury may have been led to think that the exclusion percentage was the same as the percentage likelihood of the defendant being guilty. The other judges in that court regarded the statistical evidence as strongly supportive of guilt and that was sufficient, there being no identifiable unfair prejudice to the defendant (Simpson J at [193]-[195]).

Indeed, as Bayesians know, if the other evidence in the case only established guilt to a probability of 0.1, the hair match evidence would increase that to 0.99. The same is true without any other evidence, but obviously there have to be other proven facts to give the match evidence context in relation to the offence charged. It is also appropriate to talk about groups of facts which together have probative value in relation to an issue, but their individual probative value is different from their collective probative value. Again, context is relevant, and it may be inappropriate to consider the probative value of a fact in isolation.

So what would have been unfair prejudice here? If the jury had not found as a fact that the hair had the DNA profile that the prosecution claimed it had, the other evidence about the frequency of a match would be irrelevant. To find as a fact that the hair had the alleged DNA profile, the jury would have to be satisfied about that to the standard of the balance of probabilities. Most subsidiary facts - that is, facts that are not elements of the relevant offence - only need to be proved to that standard, although there is an argument, popular - to the point of being law - in Australia, that critical facts have to be proved beyond reasonable doubt. Be that as it may, unfair prejudice would have existed if the match frequency evidence could have distracted the jury from its proper assessment of whether the hair did indeed have the DNA profile claimed for it.

The transcendent civility of verbal eunuchs

The case with the most amusing facts in a long time is Doré v Barreau du Québec, 2012 SCC 12 (22 March 2012). A judge was rude to counsel and counsel was rude to the judge. Both received reprimands from their respective disciplinary bodies.

The odd thing about this case is that whereas the judge was rude to counsel in open court, counsel was only rude to the judge in a private letter to him.

Another thing, not quite "odd" but at least strange, is that after setting up a fine sort of conceptual structure for the review of administrative decisions when Charter rights are involved, the Court's application of it to the facts is shrouded in mystery. The answer pops out, but because the private nature of counsel's letter was not taken into account we can't be sure why it didn't go the other way.

Valuable aspects of the judgment concern the duties of judges and of counsel as far as behaviour in court is concerned:

Judges must show respect for officers of the court (counsel), they must not be impatient and they have a duty to listen calmly to the parties and to counsel. They must respect the dignity of every individual who argues a case. Comments must not be immoderate. [14]

Counsel are bound by rules of professional conduct, and these include a requirement to behave respectfully and not undermine the processes of the court or the dignity of the judiciary. But at the same time counsel have rights of free speech, and a role in ensuring the accountability of the judiciary [64], and the protected tenure enjoyed by judges increases the threshold for the lawyers' expressive rights [65]. The balance between criticism and upholding dignity is fact-dependent and a discretionary administrative exercise. Criticism is measured against "the public's reasonable expectations of a lawyer's professionalism" [69] and must not overstep 'the generally accepted norms of moderation and dignity" [70].

The Supreme Court agreed with the conclusion of the disciplinary tribunal that had censured counsel.

In reality, the policy of discouraging a flood of vigorous personal correspondence between bar and bench may well have been the elephant in the courtroom.

"Lawyers potentially face criticisms and pressures on a daily basis. They are expected by the public, on whose behalf they serve, to endure them with civility and dignity. This is not always easy where the lawyer feels he or she has been unfairly provoked, as in this case. But it is precisely when a lawyer's equilibrium is unduly tested that he or she is particularly called upon to behave with transcendent civility. On the other hand, lawyers should not be expected to behave like verbal eunuchs. They not only have a right to speak their minds freely, they arguably have a duty to do so. But they are constrained by their profession to do so with dignified restraint." [68]

In this case one is tempted to suggest that the proper outcome would be to gather the judge and the lawyer together, get them to laugh a little, and send them off for brain scans, as ill-temper can be a symptom of tumours.

Elucidating Weiss? Grappling with “substantial miscarriage of justice”

Another look at Weiss (noted here 16 January 2006, 9 February 2006, 25 June 2007, and various dates – search this site for "Weiss" – to 9 July 2009) and the proviso occurred in Baiada Poultry Ltd v R [2012] HCA 14 (30 March 2012).

In Baiada Poultry Ltd the jury had not been instructed on a requirement for commission of the offence, so the conclusion that there had been a substantial miscarriage of justice was unavoidable and the proviso should not have been applied by the lower appellate majority. A retrial was ordered.

Some of us are about to enjoy an appeal criterion that no longer involves the proviso: see s 232 of the Criminal Procedure Act 2011[NZ]. Nevertheless, some dicta in Baiada Poultry Ltd are of interest. The High Court of Australia continued its "back to the words of the legislation" approach to the requirement of a substantial miscarriage of justice: the phrase should not be replaced by judicially created categories of fundamental defects [23], [31]. Well, I don't think that refusal to say what a phrase means is particularly helpful: it invites re-invention of the wheel with each appeal. The reformed New Zealand law will omit the word "substantial" and will include a definition of "miscarriage of justice". Further elaboration of "unfair trial" will be needed, because counsel always have to say why they are submitting something was unfair.

Another point in Baiada Poultry Ltd is that it is unhelpful to describe the appellate court as exercising a discretion when it considers whether to apply the proviso. We New Zealanders will note that the new provision is mandatory in its terms: "must allow … appeal … if satisfied that …". It is unlikely that if an appeal turns on the assessment of fairness this will be considered a discretionary matter: it is plainly one of making a finding as a matter of law.

Again, in Baiada Poultry Ltd, where the fact that the jury convicted the defendant is being considered on appeal, regard must be had to the issues it was left to decide. If, as here, an issue had not been left to the jury, the verdict is irrelevant [28] and per Heydon J at [67].

And finally, a major point in Weiss was repeated: if the appellate court is satisfied that on the evidence properly admitted the defendant was guilty, that is a necessary, but not a sufficient, condition for applying the proviso. That is to say, even if he was obviously guilty, the defendant's appeal cannot be dismissed if his trial had been unfair. The difficulty here is that fairness encompasses errors that affected the result of the trial, that is, errors that affected the jury, and it is immaterial that the appellate court thinks the errors should not have affected the result. The High Court may be linking the proviso jurisprudence to a narrow definition of trial fairness.

I suggest the trial in Baiada Poultry Ltd was unfair because the law was not properly applied to the facts. In any event, the appeal was allowed because the Court of Appeal majority had, in evaluating the evidence, done so without sufficient information to support its conclusions [37]-[39] or had drawn conclusions that did not necessarily follow from the evidence (per Heydon J at [70]).

Propensity evidence: relevance and probative value

The topics du jour in BBH v R [2012] HCA 9 (28 March 2012) were the requirements of relevance and probative value in relation to the admissibility of propensity evidence.

Everyone agrees that the first requirement for evidence to be admissible is relevance. The evidence must have a tendency to prove a matter in issue in the case. This does not mean it must be looked at in isolation, but assessment of its tendency to prove a matter in issue, its relevance, is made in the context of the other evidence in the case.

All well and good. But judges can differ over whether evidence is relevant. In BBH French CJ, Gummow and Hayne JJ held the contested evidence was not relevant. Their narrow view of it is in contrast to that taken by the other members of the court. French CJ was particularly concerned to avoid circular reasoning [58]: it would be wrong to use other evidence of the offence charged to interpret the tendency of the contested evidence. French CJ described the contested evidence as a "snapshot" of an incident that may or may not have been of the kind that would have made it evidence of similar facts.

But Heydon J [102] rejected the snapshot approach and looked more carefully at the context of the contested evidence, and concluded that it was capable of having the required similarity. So did Crennan and Kiefel JJ jointly [152], [159]. Bell J also noted circumstances in relation to the contested evidence that supported similarity [198].

Once relevance is established, propensity evidence must pass another hurdle. It must reach a required level of probative value. The applicable standard in this case was laid down in Pfennig v R [1995] HCA 7, (1995) 182 CLR 461. This standard is by no means accepted widely, as Crennan and Kiefel JJ note at [134]. In any event, and broadly speaking, it involves pretending that all the contested evidence is accepted at its highest from the prosecution point of view and also pretending that there remains a reasonable doubt about guilt on the other evidence for the prosecution. The test then is, is the contested evidence capable of removing a reasonable doubt about the defendant's guilt? If so, it is admissible as propensity evidence, otherwise not.

French CJ said that even if the contested evidence was relevant so that Pfennig had to be applied, the result would be that it was inadmissible [59], although he did not elaborate. Hayne J, with Gummow J agreeing, came to the same conclusion [81]. There remained a rational explanation consistent with innocence. This seems to mean that even considered with all the other prosecution evidence the contested evidence had so little probative value that it would leave a reasonable doubt about the defendant's guilt.

The other judges concluded that under Pfennig the contested evidence was admissible. It was not circular to look at the contested evidence in the light cast by the other prosecution evidence. Crennan and Kiefel JJ at [159] with Bell J agreeing at [199] stressed the independence of the witnesses to the two events (that is, the witness giving the propensity evidence and the complainant giving evidence of various offences), the absence of collusion, and the unlikelihood of the coincidence of both witnesses giving evidence of similar incidents. The difference from circularity in the relevance assessment is that here, when we get to the Pfennig stage, similarity has been established. Probative value reflects how the contested evidence bears upon the evidence supporting the present allegations.

The correctness of the Pfennig test was not in issue in this appeal: Crennan and Kiefel JJ at [134]. Nor was the judge's direction to the jury that the propensity evidence could only be taken into account if it was proved beyond reasonable doubt. This, as Crennan and Kiefel JJ said [165]-[168], was a consequence of the chain of reasoning analysis in Shepherd v R [1990] HCA 56, (1990) 170 CLR 573. It is not a universal requirement that propensity evidence be proved beyond reasonable doubt; instead it can be treated, once admissible, as just another sort of circumstantial evidence and given some probative value even if doubts about its reliability may persist, as long as it is more probably true than not true. See for example R v Holtz [2003] 1 NZLR 667, (2002) 20 CRNZ 14 (CA). Instead of Pfennig, in New Zealand we use the statutory requirement that the probative value of the propensity evidence outweighs its unfairly prejudicial effect, with specific criteria to be considered: Evidence Act 2006, s 43. These include the extent of the similarity, the number of people making the accusations, whether admission of the evidence would unfairly dispose the fact-finder against the defendant, and whether the fact-finder would give the evidence disproportionate weight.

Kettling and tracking

A lecture on Thursday evening by Professor Andrew Ashworth of Oxford reminded me to mention Austin v United Kingdom [2012] ECHR 459 (15 March 2012). This concerns the procedure of "kettling" people by detaining (oops – begging the question there) them when civil unrest breaks out and the police need to maintain order. In London thousands of people where kettled for about 6 hours without food, drink, toilet facilities, and with only room to stand or sit on the pavement. Was this a breach of Article 5 of the European Convention on Human Rights?

Article 5 gives everyone the right to liberty and security of the person, and only permits deprivation of liberty in six specified circumstances (see para 38 of the majority judgment). The government argued that either kettling was not a deprivation of liberty, or, if it was, it was justified by Article 5 as a detention in furtherance of the police's obligation to preserve the peace, or as a detention reasonably necessary to prevent offending or flight of offenders.

The majority interpreted the Convention as a "living instrument" [53] and held that Article 5 cannot be interpreted so as to make it impracticable for the police to fulfil their duties of maintaining order and protecting the public [56]. Further (or alternatively) the context of the kettling must be considered because unavoidable restrictions on movement arising from circumstances beyond the control of the authorities and which are necessary to avert a real risk of serious injury or damage and which are kept to the minimum required for that purpose are not "deprivations of liberty" within the meaning of that article [59], [60].

On the facts here the majority held that the kettling was reasonable and did not amount to a deprivation of liberty within the meaning of Article 5.

The 3 minority judges considered that there had been a deprivation of liberty. They questioned the proposition that if a restrictive measure was necessary for a legitimate public-interest purpose it did not amount to a deprivation of liberty. The reason for the deprivation of liberty should not be relevant to whether it was a deprivation of liberty. The reason is only relevant to whether the deprivation of liberty was justified under Article 5. Also, Article 5 does not warrant a distinction between deprivations of liberty arising from public order considerations and other deprivations of liberty, as the Grand Chamber had held in A v United Kingdom [2009] ECHR 301 (19 February 2009 and noted here 22 February 2009). See also Jendrowiak v Germany ECHR 14 April 2011. The minority also pointed out that the majority were ignoring another decision of the court: Gillan and Quinton v United Kingdom [2010] ECHR 28 (12 January 2010).

My assessment: Basically, the court's jurisprudence follows pragmatism rather than precedent. There is nothing wrong with pragmatic balancing of the values that underlie competing rights, but a lot of guess work is involved. No information was considered concerning the occurrence in groups of people of the kettled size of lost opportunities, risks to health and financial costs, nor was there any consideration of how those impacts should be measured for comparison with the advantages of reducing the costs of rioting. The majority judgment leaves us with the impression that a fuzzy sort of judicial comfortableness was the criterion, with emphasis on the police having to act in the longer-term interests of everyone. That begs the question of there having been no alternative police response.

Another case mentioned by the Vinerian Professor is United States v Jones
2011 USSC No 10-1259 (23 January 2012). This decided that the covert placing of a GPS tracking device on a car was a trespass and information subsequently gathered about the suspects' movements was unlawful search in breach of the Fourth Amendment. Thus the trespass test continues to be relevant notwithstanding the more recent common law development of the reasonable expectation of privacy test. This case did not require consideration of whether the search was reasonable because that argument was not raised in the courts below. A useful commentary by Atli Stannard on the comparative law can be found at http://www.acclawyers.org/?p=2980 .

When to rescue the rescuer

Procedural fairness may have to be sacrificed to protect a litigant's rights. An illustration is W (Algeria) & Anor v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2012] UKSC 8 (7 March 2012).

The moral issue here was, in the broadest possible terms, should a rescuer be protected if the rescue might be without merit? More specifically, when should a tribunal be able to extend the protection of confidentiality to a witness who claims to have information that would assist a litigant?

The appeal concerned extradition proceedings and whether the appellants, if extradited, would be at risk of ill-treatment in breach of their rights under article 3 of the European Convention on Human Rights.

A witness who claimed to be able to substantiate the risk of ill-treatment refused to give evidence unless the Special Immigration Appeals Commission (SIAC) made an order of confidentiality that would prevent the Secretary of State disclosing to anyone his evidence and his identity. Could SIAC make such an order?

The order would prevent the Secretary investigating the credibility and reliability of the witness, or at least would limit the Secretary's ability to carry out those inquiries. Further, the application for the order would have to be made ex parte, and the Secretary could not therefore oppose it. These were the limits on procedural fairness that would arise if the order was made.

Arguing against the making of such orders, the Secretary submitted that policy favoured the ability to pass on information to governments where threats to security would otherwise not be met. For example, the witness may be a terrorist planning an atrocity, and this may be evident from the nature of the evidence he gives in support of the risk of ill-treatment. Confidentiality might have severe diplomatic consequences if the government of a targeted country discovered that the Secretary had not passed on information that may have saved lives.

So, which is to dominate? The interests of the litigant facing extradition and a risk of ill-treatment, or the interests of those vulnerable to terrorism?

The Supreme Court was unanimous. Two judgments were delivered, each agreeing with the other.

Lord Brown found an answer to the Secretary's potential diplomatic embarrassment in the defence of obedience to a court order [14]. It was necessary to maximise SIAC's chances of arriving at the correct decision [18]. However the power to make such confidentiality orders should be "most sparingly used" [19]. If necessary it should be open to the Secretary to try to persuade SIAC to seek a sufficient waiver of confidentiality to address national security concerns, and if that waiver was not forthcoming then SIAC could view the evidence with scepticism or exclude it [21]. And in any event, in deciding whether to make the order SIAC should require a detailed statement of the proposed evidence, why the witness fears reprisals, and how the person challenging extradition learnt of the witness's proposed evidence and what steps were taken to get the witness to give evidence in the normal way subject to the usual safeguards of anonymity orders and private hearings [20].

Lord Dyson said that a confidentiality order should be made if SIAC is satisfied that the witness can give evidence which appears to be capable of belief and which could be decisive or at least highly material on the issue of safety of return, and if SIAC has no reason to doubt that the witness genuinely and reasonably fears reprisals if his identity and evidence were to be disclosed [34].

The issue arose here in connection with article 3 rights (not to be subjected to torture or to inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment), but Lord Dyson added that it would also arise if the case raised a question under article 2 (right to life) [38]. But if the person resisting extradition relied on an alleged risk of breach of some other article of the Convention, "the balance will almost certainly be struck the other way." [38] He gave as an example breach of article 8 rights (respect for private and family life).

Perhaps too a risk in the requesting country of breach of article 6 rights (fair trial, presumption of innocence) might be sufficient to justify a confidentiality order, but that was not addressed in these appeals.

Lord Brown made it clear that his reasoning was based on the balancing of interests and not on the idea that the playing field should be level or that there should be an equality of arms [22] in the extradition hearing. That is to say, the answer did not emerge from fair hearing considerations. Plainly the procedure is unfair to the Secretary who in any event is obliged to act in the public interest and also to disclose information that could assist the person resisting deportation [22].

A right to a fair hearing belongs to the defendant, not to the prosecutor, so indeed it is inappropriate to speak of level playing fields and equality of arms. Inequalities are assumed, and efforts are made to minimise them, but sometimes they serve the public interest and can be tolerated as long as the hearing remains fair to the defendant. See, for example, R v H [2004] UKHL 3.

So, although this issue arose in the context of extradition, it is potentially relevant to criminal proceedings.

Well, we might wonder if international relations are necessarily conducted according to law. Anyone who was brought up on the novels of Ian Fleming and John Le Carre, or who more recently has enjoyed watching "Spooks", will have doubts. It is easy to imagine in the distant and troubled future that some new Secretary might yell at a subordinate (or at a Chief Justice) "Do you think I am going to let thousands of people die just because of an effing confidentiality order?" As far as the law is concerned, the diplomatic argument should not have been raised and an answer to it not given. Whether the policy of sharing information on terrorist threats outweighs the rights of an individual litigant depends on the content of the evidence in respect of which confidentiality is sought in a specific case. General propositions of the kind advanced by the Secretary here are, without that link to the particular evidence, irrelevant. Also, the Court makes an inappropriate link between refusal of waiver and credibility. Refusal should enhance credibility, not diminish it. A person who refuses to waive confidentiality probably has good reasons for doing so and those reasons should support an inference that he knows what he is talking about. The real issues in this sort of case will be the need for the witness to have confidentiality and the risk of the defendant being ill-treated after extradition, and it is unfortunate that the judges did not reach for their copies of Dworkin's "Justice for Hedgehogs".

Honestly paying for illegal gains

For a 3-2 split on statutory interpretation, involving differences over legislative intent and the scope for application of the principle that property rights are not taken away except where the intention to do so is clear, see Re Peacock [2012] UKSC 5.

The subject of the dispute is not of much interest unless your legislation on recovery of the proceeds of crime leaves it unclear whether property acquired honestly after a recovery order is made can be included within the order. In this case the majority held that the legislature did intend that such honestly and after-acquired property should be recoverable.

The problem arose in Peacock because a confiscation order was made on a calculation which included a reduction to recognise the defendant's means to pay. Subsequently his means legitimately increased. In New Zealand under the Criminal Proceeds (Recovery) Act 2009 a profit forfeiture order does not take into account the defendant's means to pay, and any amount over that actually realised remains owing as a debt to and recoverable by the Crown.

Need witness competency be an issue separate from fairness?

The Supreme Court of Canada has split on the requirements for witness competency: R v D.A.I. 2012 SCC 5 (10 February 2012). The issue in Canada is one of statutory interpretation, and here revolved around whether an adult but mentally impaired witness needed to show an appreciation of the significance of a promise to tell the truth. The majority held that such appreciation did not need to be demonstrated because it could require some difficult abstract concepts. The policy of allowing impaired victims access to justice was of great importance.

Plainly, if the witness's response to questioning while giving evidence was such as to deprive the right of the defence to confront the witness, there would be trial fairness issues. However at the threshold stage the issue was whether the witness showed understanding of the oath or affirmation, and was able to communicate the evidence.

We in New Zealand do not have a competency requirement for witnesses. The idea is that "No person, whether on the grounds of age, intellectual disability, or mental disorder, or on any other ground, may be disbarred from giving evidence on the ground of incompetence. ... In the case of witnesses whose testimony is unhelpful – because of incoherence, for example – the judge may still exclude that evidence under the general exclusionary provisions in s 8": NZLC R55 "Evidence" – Vol 2 at C294.

Book review: “Trial by Ambush” by Joe Karam

No objective reader of Joe Karam's "Trial by Ambush" can possibly come to any conclusion other than that Robin Bain committed the murders of his family. It is equally obvious that David Bain must receive compensation for his years of imprisonment which were a direct result of improprieties in the investigation and failures by the authorities including the judiciary to provide a timely remedy.

It is the failings of the judiciary that are of most concern to readers of this site. Three appeal judges sat on what the Privy Council called the Third Court of Appeal in this case. Their single judgment contained, according to submissions to the Privy Council prepared by Karam and reproduced as Appendix B to his book, an astonishingly large list of errors of fact.

One judge might well make the occasional slip in summarising the evidence in a case, but how can so many errors pass by three judges? This calls into question the soundness of a recent proposal by our Law Commission that factual issues should be decided by a small panel of judges. The Commission likens this to the practice in Belgium, but China would also be a relevant point of reference.

Work done by committees tends to be distributed among members, whereas in trials it is brought home to jurors that they are individually responsible for their decision. The Court of Appeal is over-worked and under-resourced, and its judges – all of whom are of high quality by international standards - are encouraged to bring in unanimous decisions in criminal cases. That is hardly an environment that will promote accuracy.

But the errors in the Bain case began much earlier, according to Karam's book. The police decided too quickly to charge David. They then sought evidence against him rather than being open to the alternative that Robin was the murderer. They failed to preserve, record or have analysed evidence that might have supported David's innocence, and at an astonishingly early stage after the first trial they destroyed evidence. Evidence that was disclosed to the defence before both trials was dumped on the defence in huge volume and in a disordered state, without indication of what was significant.

This is the second aspect that is of interest here: how can the prosecution be required to exercise its disclosure obligations fairly? In the adversarial system, where the trial is a contest with a winner and a loser, procedural fairness can be sacrificed for the sake of egotistical stratagems. Trials and appeals become contests between counsel, and between counsel and the bench, to see who is cleverest.

If you think Robin's full bladder eliminated him as a suspect, you won't think so after reading this book. Nor will you think that David turned on the computer. Nor that David put the washing on before going on his paper run. Nor that all victims except Robin were killed before David left on his paper run. You will be convinced that Robin left bloodstained footprints in the carpet as he shot the victims – David's feet were too big to have made them. Blood on Robin's hands (not available for analysis, but visible in tardily disclosed photographs) was consistent with coming partly from the bloody gloves he wore, and partly from splash-back from a victim as he held the rifle. Blood on Robin's trousers and on his shoes was consistent with his position as he pulled the trigger committing suicide, as was blood on the curtain by the computer. Robin was the psychological mess, not David. Robin fitted the profile of men who kill their families, and David didn't. The gurgling heard by David coming from one victim was of the kind that can occur after death, and the evidence of that possibility was stronger at the second trial than it had been at the first.

According to this book, there is no reliable evidence that David was the murderer. At one stage I thought that Karam's account of a green towel containing traces of Robin's blood and found in the laundry left open the possibility that David put it there after killing Robin. But Robin had an injury to his hand that would have bled, and that was probably sustained in the course of a fight with his younger son who had not been killed by the first shot Robin fired at him. Robin probably wiped blood from that wound on to the towel and left it in the laundry with his other blood soaked clothes, for David to put in the wash after his paper route.

It is so hugely unlikely that David was the murderer that, as Karam says, anyone suggesting the contrary had better put up compelling evidence. There is none. It would have to be as incontrovertible as a freely given confession by David, or a reliable eyewitness to the killings, or a video recording of them. If evidence of that kind had been obtained the case would not be one of inferences, or probabilities, but one of certainties. As it is, the probabilities are so enormously in favour of David's innocence that they amount to a certainty.

The community must be thankful for people like Joe Karam. We all are entitled to know that if the State makes an error and wrongly punishes us, we will be properly compensated. Unfortunately it is not always the State's own officials who can be relied on to provide that assurance.

Need the punishment fit the crime?

For those of us who do not need to worry ourselves over the intricacies of Australian constitutional law, Bui v DPP (Cth) [2012] HCA 1 (9 February 2012) makes a simple point.

It is that when on a successful prosecution appeal against sentence the appellate court imposes a more lenient sentence than it considers the sentencing court could have properly imposed, it is reflecting a sentiment behind the principle against double jeopardy.

"13 It has been explained that what is referred to as the rule against double jeopardy is a manifestation of the principles expressed in the maxim nemo debet bis vexari pro una et eadem causa (a person shall not be twice vexed for one and the same cause), which is the foundation of the pleas of autrefois acquit and autrefois convict ... .  The underlying idea is that the State should not be allowed to make repeated attempts to convict an individual thereby subjecting him to embarrassment, expense and ordeal and compelling him to live in a continuing state of anxiety and insecurity as well as enhancing the possibility that even though innocent he may be found guilty. The rule is properly understood as a value which underpins the criminal law." [case citations and internal quote marks omitted]

There is an interesting difference between the Criminal Procedure Act 2000 (Vic), ss 289(2), 290(3), and the Criminal Procedure Act 2011 (NZ), ss 251, 257. The former specifically directs the appellate court not to take into account any element of double jeopardy involved in the appellant being sentenced again, whereas the latter makes no mention of this.

I suppose that in assessing the results of the unspoken competition between law reform bodies to come up with the perfect criminal procedure laws, Victoria should be penalised on this point. At least that is so unless you think that, willy nilly, the offender should get the sentence he deserves, later if not sooner.

Kahneman’s Thinking, Fast and Slow

Everyone is reading Daniel Kahneman's "Thinking, Fast and Slow" (2011). A passage in a recent New Zealand Court of Appeal decision, the details of which are currently suppressed, raises questions about the right way to think about propensity evidence.

The case citation is [2011] NZCA 645 and the date of the decision is 14 December 2011. I will call it X v R. I will also adapt the quotation from para [34] of the judgment to comply with the order suppressing identifying particulars of the appellant:

"... it is an unlikely coincidence that Mr X, twice within a year, would be the hapless and innocent victim of being apprehended driving a car with [other people in it and also with evidence of criminal offending in it]. The evidence goes directly and cogently to the key issue: did Mr X know of the [items] found in the car he was driving on [the second occasion]?"

While the conclusion that the evidence had sufficient probative value to be admissible is intuitively correct, this form of reasoning entails several thinking errors of the kind that Kahneman discusses.

There is a tendency to draw strong conclusions from incomplete information (the "what-you-see-is-all-there-is" error). We are not told anything about the frequencies that matter in the above case: how frequently do people who are guilty of the present sort of offending have a previous recent incident of this sort of police apprehension, compared with how frequently do people who are innocent of offending of the present kind have a recent previous such apprehension?

There is a substitution error: we tend to answer difficult questions by answering a much simpler related question. Here it is easy to answer the question about the recent apprehension and to apply that answer to the more difficult question of guilt on the present occasion. This is closely related to another error.

Base-rate neglect is the error of neglecting statistical likelihoods in favour of accepting what could be causally possible. The other evidence in the case, relating directly to guilt on the present occasion, may significantly affect the strength of our tendency to see a causal connection between the first apprehension and the second.

Another error is the halo effect, or in the present context what might be called the devil's horns effect. Having learnt something bad about the defendant's behaviour on an earlier occasion, we are tempted to overemphasise this when we consider his present guilt.

Further, there is the narrative fallacy: we are tempted to accept what we can build into a story that makes sense, although the events may in reality be unconnected. The defendant may have been innocent on the earlier occasion through lack of knowledge of the presence of the things in the car. The coincidence may be real, but it does not suit the story we are tempted to build in which we cast the defendant as a recidivist.

This is similar to another error, the representativeness bias. Where only partial information is available we lean heavily on stereotypes.

For a review of Kahneman's book summarising these and other thinking errors, see the article in the New Zealand Listener, January 21-27, 2012, by David Hall.

In the above case, where the issue was the defendant's knowledge of the presence of the things in the car, it is easy to build a narrative in which the defendant, being ignorant on both occasions, was simply associating with people who were both his friends and offenders. That too would be a combination of thinking errors.

Courts too often make assumptions about likelihoods without inquiring into occurrences in the real world. The correct approach is Bayesian, as Kahneman – a leading psychologist and Nobel laureate – recognises. But that requires the effort of careful analytical thought rather than our preferred instinctive assessment of circumstances.