Insurance has a strange aspect which we often overlook; we are happy that we did not need it.

We do not think that the premia paid year after year to insure our house is wasted money. After all, we do not want our house to burn down; we just want to rebuild and restore it if it does. So, we pay a small sum of money to meet the possibility of having to pay the much larger sum if the house does burn down (or suffer some other form of damage).

Sometimes the question of what is a proportionate sum to pay as a premium to cover the perceived risk has to be publicly determined.

In the UK, unlike Ireland, there is anxiety that justice should be facilitated. By “justice” is meant the ready and easy opportunity to go to court seeking a remedy without being prevented by extraneous causes, like poverty. Poverty is relative; most people in Ireland would consider the costs of a High Court action (or even a Circuit court action) beyond them.

Consequently, the UK authorities have facilitated schemes intended to achieve this end.

One such scheme is to allow lawyers who work on a “no win, no fee” basis to charge a significantly higher fee when they are successful, and provide that the losing party has to pay that higher fee as a matter of course.

Another is to recompense a plaintiff his or her insurance premium for “After The Event” (ATE) insurance. This is insurance taken out to, effectively, help pay for some of the litigation costs of the plaintiff/insured.

Section 29 of the UK Access to Justice Act 1999 provides:

“Where in any proceedings a costs order is made in favour of any party who has taken out an insurance policy against the risk of incurring a liability in those proceedings, the costs payable to him may, subject in the case of court proceedings to rules of court, include costs in respect of the premium of the policy.”

Inevitably, the losing defendants (other insurance companies) took issue with the premia being charged for the ATE.

HERE ‘s the outcome of that dispute.

The power of mythical thinking has to be experienced to be believed. Currently, in Ireland, nobody is more subject to its power than the judges of the Superior courts. (With the possible exception of the Irish catholic bishops).

Of course the legal profession is subject to the same myths as the judiciary, but that would not long outlast (I hope) the escape of the judiciary from their myths.

The myth of immediate interest is the fairytale that the Dail (Ireland’s lower parliamentary chamber) has any influence in the making or passing of legislation. It does not; legislation is originated by the Cabinet and driven through onto the statute books.

We know who is responsible, therefore, for the requirement that personal injury litigants must swear an Affidavit of Verification asserting the truth of the factual assertions set out in pleadings commenced on their behalf.

Willie O’Dea is in the Cabinet. He says, of his factually incorrect Affidavit, that when he realized his error in his Affidavit, he “put his hands up” and admitted the error. The Cabinet has endorsed this as the correct response. Consequently, no judge can, or should, ask for more of personal injury litigants.

Willie O’Dea’s understanding is not new or peculiar. His Affidavit will have contained the averment:

“I make this affidavit from facts within my own knowledge save where otherwise appears, and where so otherwise appearing I believe the same to be true.”

This statement is about appearances and beliefs. Willie was right to emphasise that his beliefs are the important thing and, of course, we know that appearances can be deceptive, especially to deponents in Affidavits.

That, clearly is what the Cabinet meant and means by the legislation imposing the obligation on personal injury litigants.

Judges take note.

Oddly, nobody has adverted to the role of the Attorney General in the Willie O’Dea kerfuffle. The Attorney General is the lawyer to the Cabinet. He clearly endorsed the view of the Cabinet, did he not? Maybe not. Whether he did or did not is not important. We are not entitled to know and nobody is asking.

But we should see him as he is, warts and all. We should not have to endure the consequence of more mythical thinking by the judiciary (and the Law Library). The Attorney General is down in the arena with everybody else. He fights for his clients. He represents their interests. He should not be accorded the deference he gets from the judiciary and the Law Library. (According to the Bar of Ireland, the Attorney General is the Leader of the Bar).

As this is written, the public perception of AIB and Bank of Ireland is that they are solvent. They may not be. If they are not, the Government, or part of it, knows it. The Government, although it is silent on the point, is in that case, in effect. perpetuating the illusion of the banks’ solvency. This split between what is officially the case and what is really the case is common. We have seen recently that, although they were not directly protected by the State, we slowly, and by chance, learned that Liam Carroll’s property interests were financially unsustainable with Paddy Kelly’s likewise, followed by Bernard McNamara’s. These truths, easily comprehended when brought to view, are part of the more obscure greater truth, that the crash of these property interests was facilitated by massive Government failures and that the possible insolvency of the banks was caused by the Government.

The recent apology from the British Government to the victims of the Thalidomide scandal reminds us of what is required when important issues are denied or ignored; quality journalists.

In the UK they had the Sunday Times “Insight” team under Harold Evans. As editor of the Sunday Times, Evans refused to knuckle under in the face of Distillers’ court injunction preventing the newspaper from publishing the truth (to the extent then known) about the cause and history of the dreadful birth defects that had appeared as a result of the use of the Thalidomide drug by women. (Distillers was the distributor of Thalidomide).

(Ironically, given the title to this post, a newspaper of the name “Sunday Times” continued to exist after Harold Evans left it, but it was not what it had been; Rupert Murdoch owned it then).

At the crucial time and on the central issue, openness, the UK courts came down emphatically on the side of Distillers and attempted to impose secrecy.

Here in Ireland, if there were to be a reprise of that struggle we can not be sure that the courts’ response might not be equally inadequate.

The reasons for this are twofold; access to public records is still regularly denied as a consistent Government policy, and, within the court system, access to paper and electronic records is a matter of chance and whim. The Government has not only set the policy of “closed” administration, it has written the legislation to make it legal to refuse access to public records.

We learn from the Sunday Business Post that NAMA may pay less than it previously indicated for the Irish Banks’ loans to be handed over to it (starting this very month, reputedly). We do not know anything further about this. We do not know if the report is accurate. We do not know if the report is a malicious falsehood leaked to the SBP to mislead critics of NAMA.

NAMA is a scandal. It is a scheme to transfer taxpayers’ money to private institutions without a rational justification. The irrational justification (“long-term economic value”) was mooted by the EU Commission, but it hedged it about with many conditions. We have no idea if the Irish Government and the Irish Banks have complied with those conditions. The EU did not mandate secrecy like this.

That the SBP can publish its, presumably, bona fide report and miss the real story; that its sources are unreliable and clearly manipulative of public opinion; that NAMA clearly thinks it is acceptable in this polity to behave in such a fashion and is to be condemned for it (rather than facilitated) and that covert administration is Wednesbury irrationality and a basis for Judicial Review of NAMA is a howler of a journalistic error.

Our offices are, almost, in Lower Bridge Street and I travel down Clanbrassil Street daily to get to them. It is an ironic occasion every morning for me to join the single lane of traffic traveling north on Patrick Street in front of St. Patrick’s cathedral. Until recently there were two lanes for the north-bound traffic; now, one is a dedicated bus lane.

In 1953, Dublin Corporation determined to ensure that traffic would not be hindered by narrow streets like Clanbrassil Street and Patrick Street. They should be widened, it felt. The Corporation persisted in this feeling from 1953 to 1989 when it finally built a “dual-carriageway” along [some of] Clanbrassil St. and on into Patrick Street.

The fact that the planned Compulsory Purchase Order, to implement this, undermined the values of the properties along the west side of Clanbrassil Street and Patrick Street, from 1953 onwards, is neither here nor there.

What is of moment is this: we no longer care about traffic, that is, the private motor car. We have changed our viewpoint. We cheerfully squeeze it daily into a narrow traffic lane in Patrick Street. That’s not the only change. Dublin Corporation is now Dublin City Council: it hasn’t gone away and it is still an institution of vision.

Currently, it has a vision for a waste incinerator in Ringsend. Perhaps we need such a thing. But will we always? Will we always think it a good thing to burn rubbish? To burn it within the city?

The answer is yes, because the operator of the proposed incinerator will compel us to do it, under the terms of a contract signed by it and Dublin City Council.

Peculiarly, the property rights in rubbish may be more easily defended than the property rights in buildings.

The mark of a good court judgment is its intellectual quality. Some, unquestioned on delivery, are revealed as dubious with the passage of time.

There is nothing compelling about the decision of the Supreme Court in Attorney General v Hamilton [1993] 2 IR 250.

In that case, the Supreme Court decided that the collective responsibility of the Cabinet (the Government) under Article 28.4.1 implied a constitutional bar on the disclosure of dissenting views in Cabinet.

The one does not follow the other of necessity. It may be the norm that dissent is not disclosed; it may be better that disclosure not take place, generally; but it may sometimes be a good thing to make disclosure of dissent. The Supreme Court closed that off. It did so with no significant history of disclosure by Cabinet members (other than selective “leaking” by, usually, the Government itself).

The Taoiseach has adequate powers of discipline to control the members of the Cabinet. If he (or she) cannot use those powers effectively, that is evidence of a political crisis and indicates there ought to be an election. For good reason, the Courts should steer clear of situations like that.

The decision has had bad effects. It endorses a damaging idea of Government; one where the freedom of the Executive to act without challenge and with impunity is put at a higher value than the principle that the interests of the electorate are paramount.

It is a deeply anti-democratic view.

The Courts belong to the public world. The speech (and writing) of the courts is public speech and public writing.

Consequently, we in our office occasionally nominate the late Conor Cruise O’Brien as our preferred witness (on any topic, in any case).

He excelled at public speech and writing. He was wonderfully combative and would not suffer fools gladly. In short, he would have made mincemeat of most counsellors. (That’s a good US word to describe a “trial lawyer”).

His gifts were self confidence and familiarity with the public world. Most witnesses lack both to some degree, especially the latter. They are vulnerable, consequently, to mendacious forms of cross-examination.

Conor Cruise O’Brien himself demonstrates this to some degree. He remarked that he recognised his enemies by their approbation of the ideas of Rousseau. This was a harsh standard. Few people know the source or sources of the ideas they use to prop up their speech, not to speak of their lives. To take everything they might say as defining them perfectly is just wrong. To challenge them to defend the propositions inherent in their speech is also, generally, unfair. After all, Rousseau, among other things, undermined the “Ancien Regime”; he pointed to the fact that social conditions were the product of bad government, not the fault of the populace in misery. These opinions would not generally be considered contentious now (among Social Democrats, anyway). Likewise, they are not rebutted by being paraded for inspection with some other doctrine of Rousseau’s, now, perhaps, considered indefensible.

What is the defining characteristic of real troublemakers is their failure to allude to any form of idea in their speech or writing. They seek instead to give the impression that they are simply representative of a general current view, undefined.

They speak in terms of the title to this post.

Football, (soccer football) is important. It embodies the need for transparency. Thierry Henry’s foul handling of the ball in the Ireland v France match is trivia, but the advancement of FIFA’s interests in having two big nations playing in the World cup final is not. Interest like that cannot be open to transparency; they run counter to the spirit of soccer football.

Ireland was punching above its weight in the game with France. When you are punching above your weight you better know it and you better aim for a knock out blow to win. A win on points will not be vouchsafed to you.

Furthermore, accept the fact of failure, having properly defined it. The failure to comprehensively eliminate France was the failure, and is only made the more painful by the antics of Brian Cowen and Martin Cullen. They will do nothing to correct FIFA’s faults.

What!
In ill thoughts again!
Men must endure/ Their going hence, even as their coming hither:/ Ripeness is all.
Come on.

-King Lear

In the public service strike, the courts stopped work on Tuesday the 6th of November 2009. This is of less interest than the stoppage of the previous Friday. The judges of the superior courts went to school that day and, of necessity, ceased working. Why was this interesting fact not reported by the media? More importantly, why do we not know the subject of the lessons of the day?

We owe great debts to Montesquieu but he over-egged the pudding when he asserted the primacy of the constitutional principle of the separation of powers. The Executive power will not countenance, and never has, full judicial independence.

Consequently, it is naïve to think a court is not an agent for the application of Government policy, as expressed in law (and sometimes not so expressed).

This may not be the context for the judges’ lessons, but we can hardly think they need refreshers on whether Ms. Donohoe should have won in Donohue v Stevenson [1932] AC 562.

Perhaps they needed a good talking to about the imperative to front-load legal costs on uppity Plaintiffs seeking injunctions?

Or why proposals to re-introduce the death penalty into Ireland ought to be seriously addressed, to distract from current political difficulties?

Or why the current chaos in the Irish legal system, that is the provision of discovery of documents, should persist?

Of course, the lessons may not address these things at all. They may be perfectly standard “continuous professional development” stuff, consisting of a review of recent case law on some theme, say, Tort law.

Either way, it behooves the media to at least ask what is taught at Judge school. It might tell us something about Ireland we need to know, and God knows, we know very little.

The King’s Inns is the only Inn of Court in Ireland. The UK has four; Middle Temple, Inner Temple, Lincoln’s Inn, and Gray’s Inn.

In the King’s Inns the students and Benchers of the Inns eat dinner in the Great Hall of the Inns during term time. Each student diner is supplied with beer and half a bottle of wine (or port). Each Bencher diner is also supplied with those drinks, and brandy or whiskey. In Ireland, every judge of the superior courts is a Bencher of the King’s Inns. In the King’s Inns the last Thursday of each term is “Grand Night”.

The drinks allocation is doubled on “Grand Night”.

The ostensible purpose of the dinners is to follow the tradition by which education was imparted to new barristers; they learned what was what by eating, and conversing, with the practising barristers.

Nowadays, they probably confine themselves to conversation about how bad the Government is, or how fortunate Ireland is to avoid the US experience with the use of the death penalty, as reported HERE by the Guardian.

Of course, by the end of a Grand Night, they may be discussing how good the Cabinet is, (especially the Minister for Finance who is qualified as a barrister) and how the Guardian is not a quality newspaper.