Law-making is a funny old business. My move from commentator to legislator has brought with it some poacher-turned-gamekeeper quandaries. While all laws emanate from political choices, unlike my usual stomping ground of activist speeches or polemical articles, there is a danger that legal mis-speaking might end up criminalising people.
I feel the need to ask a series of questions every time a Bill arrives at the House of Lords. Creating new laws increasingly seems to be a substitute for political leadership, so a key question must be: is this Bill really necessary? Is it proportionate? In an unelected part of parliament, is it anti-democratic over-reach to oppose illiberal legislation? How to stay true to one’s principles, without law-making becoming just a virtue-signalling vehicle, with little regard for how the detail will affect citizens’ lives? And finally, what are the consequences (or even unintended consequences) of how the Bill is written? The latter can mean hours of arguments centring on pernickety interpretations of key words. A recent example that has presented me with real dilemmas might illustrate the point.
Influence is something we should protect
The Lords is presently at the end of deliberations about the Public Order Bill, justified by the Government as necessary to deal with the novel disruptive tactics deployed by the likes of Extinction Rebellion. Many of us have argued that the police already have an arsenal of public order tools it could use; its failure to do so reflecting a crisis of authority within policing. If anything, creating even more laws evades rather than solves this policing failure.
The Bill certainly has popular appeal – the public have had their patience sorely tested by environmentalists blocking roads, despoiling art works, gluing themselves to all and sundry to maximise nuisance, with the expressed aim of bullying society into giving up fossil fuel use. But despite perceptions and headline-creating Home Secretary statements, the Bill doesn’t specify which protestors the Bill will target. So, whatever the intentions of the Government, its powers could be wielded against any protestors. It would be ironic if rather than stopping anti-car XR type, the law ends up criminalising ordinary motorists involved in a rapidly growing movement opposing Low Traffic Neighbourhood (LTN) schemes and the expansion of ULEZ (Ultra-Low Emission Zone). What’s more, Just Stop Oil have announced the suspension of their anti-social stunts, so why do we need these new laws at all? No surprise this legislation is becoming known as the Just Stop Protests Bill.
The Bill is Report Stage in the Lords, the time when amendments are voted on that can ultimately change the legislation before final consideration in the Commons. So far, there has been two significant defeats for the Government. One centred on the lack of (or at best a woolly) definition of ‘serious disruption’. What might have appeared as lots of us fetishising the precise meaning of the words ‘serious’ and ‘disruption’ was, in fact, hugely important to assessing proportionality. After all, one of the most draconian proposals in the Bill is Serious Disruption Prevention Orders (aka Protest Banning Orders). If what passes for serious disruption is not pinned down, these SDPOs could be wielded in an arbitrary and tyrannical fashion against the most minor protest. As a civil libertarian, I was glad to support amendments making that definition far more robust and meeting a high threshold.
One part of the Bill strays far away from eco-protestors. Pro-choice parliamentarians have been keen to use the legislation to bring in laws dictating a nationwide imposition of buffer zones outside any buildings in which abortions take place (known as Clause 9). I am completely committed to women having not only maximum access to the right to abortion, but also being able to practically access medical facilities for a termination without intimidation or physical obstruction. However, at an earlier stage of deliberations in the Lords, I was so shocked at the illiberal wording and punitive approach of the pro-buffer zone clause (that would effectively make leafleting or expressing an opinion in a designated area illegal – see my previous article in The Spectator) that I proposed a much more moderate wording. I was gratified that my critique seemed to have struck a chord; to her credit, Baroness Sugg, the mover of Clause 9, listened, and rewrote the original proposals, presenting a much less illiberal amendment 45 at Report Stage last week.
However, in it, a weasel word appeared in subsection (1)(a), making me feel very uncomfortable. That word was ‘influence’. The amendment states that there should be no attempt to influence ‘any person’s decision to access…the provision of abortion services’ within these state-designated buffer zones – now renamed as safe access zones – around hospitals and clinics. Surely it is dangerous to suggest that influencing someone to change their mind about a decision should be against the law, whatever the circumstances, or that influencing is a threat to safety? This could seriously undermine free speech.
Free speech is not a technical right. The appropriate place to have a debate on abortion with individual women accessing healthcare is clearly not outside an abortion clinic. That is not the basis on which free speech is threatened by these buffer zones going national. Rather, a prohibition on ‘influencing’, presumed by those who consider it to be a coercive act and who approve of criminal sanctions, is problematic.
As I explained in my speech, many women are very firm and clear; they have made a rational decision that they want or need an abortion. They have given a lot of time to that decision and will not be deterred, even if they have to walk past anti-abortion vigils, however unpleasant or distressing, because they know what they want to do. Good luck to them.
However, when considering abortion, some women may be unsure. They should and must be free to change their mind at any time and in any direction. It is not coercive if you think again. If a woman is trying to work out, ‘Should or shouldn’t I have a termination?’, they may go to see a counsellor at a BPAS or a Marie Stopes clinic because they are not sure. After talking it through, a woman might then leave that counselling service and say, ‘I’ve thought about it now. I’ve made my mind up and I’m going to have a termination’. Would we then suggest they have been influenced, and use that as a negative accusation? No, because we recognise a woman’s moral autonomy, and we assume she is not coerced in that situation.
What of the woman who may not be sure and is still thinking about whether abortion is the right decision even as she goes in for a termination? If she is given a leaflet or whatever and concludes that there may be an option of getting some practical support for continuing the pregnancy and then says ‘I’ve changed my mind’, why would that be dubbed as criminal influence? Whatever the reason, that is her choice. And I am pro-choice. I do not want us to pass legislation that inadvertently undermines women’s agency or capacity to choose, in our enthusiasm to support laws presented as protecting women.
Influence is something we should protect. I want to influence you with this article; if I fail, it’s because you have the capacity to make your own decision. Indeed, influencing is the basis of democracy, and I failed to influence my fellow peers, so now we have a Bill that bans influencing in designated public spaces.
Meanwhile, some of us argued that given the serious limitations on freedoms that nationwide buffer zones would impose, it would be sensible to conduct a review. The reason Parliament declined to legislate on this matter in 2018 was after an extensive Home Office review of vigils concluded that introducing national buffer zones would not be a proportionate response, considering the experiences of the majority of hospitals and clinics and that most of the activities are passive in nature.
My friends on the pro-choice side, whose views on abortion I share, say ‘No, that 2018 review is out of date’. They also claim we need a nationwide ban because local Public Space Protection Orders (PSPOs) don’t work, even though they were the remedy they themselves argued for in the recent past (perhaps a lesson in why we should avoid claiming any one legal ban is a silver bullet solution). I think pro-choice groups are right to note that in addition to how distressing protests outside clinics are for individual women, we need to remember staff who, when simply doing their job of providing women’s reproductive healthcare, are called child murderers etc. But are the numbers of vigils escalating and becoming more aggressive as claimed, with some even suggesting that such actions are backed by American money stoking up a culture war in the UK? On the other side, pro-Life groups claim such lurid stories are misinformation, that all they are doing is silently praying and offering help in a completely benign fashion.
Amid such conflicting narratives, it seems sensible that before we enact a dramatic blanket change in the law that prohibits public space assembly outside medical facilities, regardless of particular local problems – we should at least base it on evidence. Again, that key question is simple: is such a law is needed? Those of us attempting to call for such evidence-gathering were voted down by a substantial majority. I still hope that once the amended Bill returns to the Commons, elected MPs might look again at the necessity of further legislation in this area, and whether the proposed law is proportionate.
What of principle in all this controversy? I noted with interest that when Lord Paddick, the Lib Dem front bench spokesman, opposed the review amendment proposed by Lord Farmer, he implied a lack of consistency:
‘Why has the noble Lord not put down such amendments to every other clause in this Bill?’
Conversely, I would ask Lord Paddick and those opposition speakers, who made such passionate appeals for proportionate law-making and examined the wording of clauses in minute detail to probe the necessity for additional laws to deal with Just Stop Oil et al another question: why do they appear to turn a blind eye to civil liberty concerns in relation to anti-abortion protests?
Good faith attempts at principled consistency can confuse onlookers. Some have queried why I’d spend so long quibbling over the word ‘influence’, when the bigger picture is women’s reproductive healthcare. Others have suggested that I am going soft on women’s abortion rights because I defend – on principle – the need to question whether the law is being used recklessly to undermine freedom, just as those who say supporting the right to speech is the same as endorsing the content of that speech.
I continue to defend assembly rights for those activities and views I detest, whether inside the Lords or in the public square. Even more so knowing that my vote and voice could lead to criminal charges for speech and actions that I believe should not be subject to legal sanction. And perhaps, as a lefty protest type, who regularly attends demonstrations, leaflets in hand, I will carry on – even if awkwardly – to try and walk the tight rope between activist and legislator, speaking out in parliament against too many laws that dangerously create slippery slope precedents. And then writing articles explaining why.
Comments