Wednesday, May 30, 2012
A modern-day "conchie"
Published in Criminal Law and Justice Weekly, vol 176, 3 March 2012, p 135
Conscientious objection to military service has provided much drama in both fiction and real life for many years. In fiction one finds examples in the recent Downton Abbey, or the gentle Private Godfrey in Dad’s Army, and countless other works as well.
The most famous non-fiction example is possibly Mohammad Ali, who chose jail rather than serving in Vietnam against an enemy he did not know on behalf of a state that declined to afford him full civil rights.
Recently the case of R v Lyons [2011] EWCA Crim 2808 raised the same issue in the context of Britain’s modern wars.
Lyons held the rank of leading medical assistant in the Royal Navy. In May 2010 he was told he would be deployed to Afghanistan. He formed the view that the UK’s involvement in the conflict was wrong and that it would be morally wrong for him to take part. He therefore applied for discharge on the ground that he was a conscientious objector. The application was refused and he appealed. Before his appeal was determined, he was ordered to undertake a pre-deployment weapons training course. He refused to participate. He was court-martialed and found guilty of intentionally disobeying a lawful command contrary to s 12(1)(a) of the Armed Forces Act 2006. He was sentenced to seven months’ military detention, demoted to able seaman and dismissed from the service. He appealed against sentence.
Historical background
Objection to war – a particular conflict or warfare in general – on religious or secular grounds is no doubt as old as war itself. In Britain the armed forces have historically been recruited on a volunteer basis. Full-scale conscription was unknown in this country until the Great War, when the British army found itself drawn irrevocably into the sort of full-scale conflict on the Continent which it had spent a century planning to avoid. By contrast, most Continental powers had had compulsory military service for generations, the modern origins lying in the French Revolution and the subsequent creation of the Grande Armée.
It is therefore noteworthy that Britain was the first amongst European powers to have formal legal recognition of conscientious objection. Mention was made in the Militia Act 1757, but the story in modern times begins with the Military Service Act 1916, an Act which simultaneously introduced conscription and the recognition of objection on the ground of conscience.
During the Second World War, nearly 60,000 registered as Conscientious Objectors. After national service ended at the start of the 1960s, formal procedures for dealing with conscientious objectors fell away, until in 1970 the Advisory Committee on Conscientious Objectors (ACCO) was formed as a non-departmental public body to advise the Secretary of State for Defence.
Continue reading here.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Law and Libya again
Published on Halsbury's Law Exchange here and reproduced on Legal Week here
Now that the Libyan conflict seems to be drawing to the end, or at least the end of its present phase, it might be appropriate to consider the legal aspect of NATO’s involvement.
The first question involves the nature of the Western intervention. In this respect, imagine that a Predator drone, controlled by a foreign state, circles above the White House looking for President Obama. It fires a hellfire missile but misses the President and kills a couple of innocent civilians instead. The foreign state then issues a statement saying it is sorry about the civilians but Obama’s position is untenable and the drones will keep coming until he leaves office.
It is not difficult to imagine the response from the White House. President Obama would make a speech evoking the stirring rhetoric of President Roosevelt’s post-Pearl Harbour address, and the television news would soon be flooded with images of American forces setting off to unleash retribution.
Suppose further that the responsible state was not acting alone, but was receiving technical, material and intelligence assistance from another state. If so, that state would also find itself on the Pentagon’s target list.
The ensuing clash of arms might be called many things, but no-one could argue that it would appropriately be called a “war”.
I make that rather laboured point because of the startling position the White House took on Libya. In a detailed document prepared in June, the White House asserted that because the US forces involved were only playing a “supporting role”, they were not engaged in “hostilities”.
Accordingly, the argument ran, the definition of “hostilities” as described under the War Powers Resolution of 1973 had not been met. That resolution, part of the fallout over the Vietnam War, requires Congressional approval for any deployment of US forces in hostilities for more than 60 days. The White House said that its forces in Libya are not engaged in sustained fighting or “active exchanges of fire with hostile forces”.
With the caveat that I am not an American lawyer, that argument seems entirely fallacious. The governments responsible for the intervention made clear early on that Gaddafi’s regime could not continue.
NATO’s operations began after UN Resolution 1973, which was passed when it was thought a slaughter of citizens by Gaddafi’s troops was imminent, the sanctions and other measures brought in by Resolution 1970 having failed to prevent the civil war. Initially the intention was to establish a no-fly zone, then to use “all necessary measures” to defend civilians. In turn the coalition took it to mean that Gaddafi’s regime had to be removed.
We therefore went from attempting to prevent a massacre in a particular time and place to attempting to overthrow a sovereign government by the use of military force. The latter in anyone’s language is a war. The fact that our involvement has been limited to naval blockading and acting as the rebels’ air force is not relevant: we have been deploying armed forces in active operations. Rumour has it that we or our coalition partners have supplied weapons to the rebels as well and it seems a shade implausible that there have been no special forces operations in the area.
The only distinction that the White House offered was that there was no danger to American servicemen. That was a matter of good fortune for them, but to suggest that their operations were not thereby a “war” strains logic beyond breaking point. As I tried to show above it is an argument that would cut no ice in the other direction.
We have therefore been, pace President Obama, and continue to be, at war with the sovereign government of Libya. A number of serious questions then arise. For a start, even if the war is legal, what was the legal imperative for the UK’s involvement? What of all the other states who supported the resolution?
The second question concerns the moral justification. If on the balance of probabilities military intervention would save more lives than it would cost then it might well be justified. Needless to say that is difficult to judge, to say the least.
It is true that the fact that we are selective in our use of force by not intervening in, say, Syria, is not an argument against intervening in Libya: if I fail to save ten drowning people it would still be morally correct to save the eleventh, even though I am being inconsistent by doing so.
Apparently we intervened to stop a massacre of civilians by Gaddafi’s forces in Benghazi. Apparently we succeeded. But it also seems that we have little clue as to what happens next. There was no doubt a hope that Gaddafi would flee once Western air power was deployed against him. That faded quickly, to no-one’s surprise: air power tends not to do that.
However, it now seems that Gaddafi is indeed about to fall. What then are our obligations in international law, having toppled him? What plan is in place for a substitute government? What if an Iraqi-style internecine civil war erupts? I have yet to read reassuring answers to any of those questions.
One can easily understand why our leaders support the notion of “liberal intervention”. It is their best chance of being remembered as a statesman rather than a jobbing politician. It is no doubt more professionally rewarding flying to Washington on a private jet and making speeches at the White House than trying to deal with more mundane matters such as the NHS budget, another bank failure or a school closure. But the executive should also consider that if international law is fraught with uncertainty, military action is too, and inevitably risks the most severe consequences in terms of blood and treasure. And if there is one lesson from Iraq, it is surely that removing dictators is only the very beginning of what might be a long and difficult story. Perhaps there will be a smooth transition from Gaddafi to a democratic government supporting human rights and the rule of law. Or perhaps there won’t be.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Witchcraft during Wartime: the trial of Helen Duncan
In earlier columns I have written about wartime cases to reflect on present-day problems. Such cases are often the most instructive, because it is during wartime that a legal system is under the greatest strain, and how it reacts to that strain says a great deal about the system. Previously I have considered cases where the law reached the right conclusion. This month, however, I am concerned with a case which should never have been brought at all: that of Helen Duncan, often (incorrectly) said to be the last person in Britain to be tried for witchcraft.
Duncan held herself out to be a spiritual medium. She received minor convictions for fraudulent activities relating to her "trade" before the Second World War, but acquired lasting fame during the conflict by telling one anguished person during a séance that her son’s ship, HMS Barham, had been sunk.
News of this revelation caused alarm in Whitehall. The Barham had indeed been lost, but the Navy had suppressed the information. The reason was that intelligence had revealed that the Germans did not know about the sinking, since the U-Boat commander responsible had been unsure. Several other capital ships had been lost around the same time, and news of the Barham’s loss would have been a severe blow to morale as well as a German propaganda victory. Fearing that Duncan had access to its secrets, therefore, the state decided to put her out of business.
After some impressive pre-internet legal research by the prosecution, Duncan was charged under s 4 of the Witchcraft Act 1735, concerning “fraudulent spiritual activity” (rather than witchcraft per se). The trial that followed veered towards farce, with a number of apparently respectable people prepared to testify that her powers were genuine, but with the judge prohibiting Duncan herself from “proving” her abilities in court. She was eventually convicted by a jury and imprisoned for nine months.
After the trial Churchill lambasted the case as “tomfoolery”, and it is hard to disagree. It seems absurd that the authorities thought Duncan either a genuine medium or privy to state secrets: the fact that she guessed that a ship during wartime had been sunk hardly constitutes proof of anything.
If Duncan had indeed improperly obtained state secrets, she should have been charged on those grounds accordingly. If that was the true reason for the trial, however, but the prosecution chose instead to prosecute her under the Witchcraft Act for its own convenience, then that looks like a misuse of the legal system.
The most persuasive ground for the law’s intervention was that Duncan was exploiting the vulnerable, and that argument of course applies to all others in her vocation. There is clearly some justification for the state prosecuting charlatans. Then again, if people derive comfort from falsity, why should others object? In a free society, if competent adults wish to pay for such “services” they should have the right to do so, both as an exercise of the right to freedom of contract and the right to freedom of religion.
On the other hand, trading standards usually require that vendors do not offer for sale something they know to be false, particularly when the prospective purchaser is likely to be vulnerable.
In the absence of blatant trickery, however, the question of proof in either direction is an interesting one; after all, a good many intelligent people seem to want to believe in the Loch Ness monster, and it is not as if the veracity of mainstream religion is any more open to scientific proof. In all seriousness, the state is generally best leaving such things to the marketplace of ideas.
At most, spiritual mediums and similar types should be the concern of trading standards rather than the criminal law. There may come a point where coercion or deception merits criminal proceedings, but existing laws against intimidation or fraud should suffice in those cases. Otherwise, commercial regulation rather than specific criminal offences should be the extent of the law’s intervention, the aim being to restrict misleading advertising or otherwise protect the vulnerable rather than shut down the business altogether.
The justification is that the state should adhere strictly to the separation of church and state. On the one hand, the state should not seek to outlaw peddlers of religion and spiritualism. On the other hand no funding or official sanction should be given for spiritual or religious activities, “mainstream” or otherwise. Rather, the state should concentrate on education, surely the consumers’ best weapon against snake oil salesmen of any kind.
Coda: Recently, supporters of Duncan campaigned to have her pardoned. They were unsuccessful, though their website seeks to assure everyone that Duncan's powers were genuine. Readers can judge that one for themselves.
Friday, December 10, 2010
An innocent abroad: the non-trial of P G Wodehouse
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Abu Hamza's passport: be careful what you wish for
The radical Muslim cleric Abu Hamza has won his recent appeal against the attempt by British authorities to strip him of his passport. Having already lost his Egyptian nationality, he argued successfully that removing his British passport would render him stateless.
It seems rather incongruous that Hamza wanted a British passport at all, given his reported attitude towards the British state. He might remember the old adage about being careful what you wish for: the last person to engage in claiming a British passport then trying to bring about the downfall of the state was the rather colourful William Joyce, better known as the wartime traitor Lord Haw Haw.
Joyce was a member of several different British fascist political parties during the 1920s and 30s (they tended to splinter and reform in a manner similar to Monty Python’s Judean parties in Life of Brian). As war with Germany loomed, Joyce, fearing internment, applied successfully to renew his British passport in order to flee the country.
Upon arriving in Berlin he soon began broadcasting propaganda for Nazi radio. Throughout the war he taunted the British over the airways about the bombing of their cities and constantly urged them to surrender. In June 1945 he was captured and charged with three counts of High Treason.
There was one problem: Joyce was not actually British. He was born in America, of Irish descent. Two of the counts therefore fell away on the ground that as a foreign national he had not owed allegiance to the Crown.
Joyce was, however, convicted on the count relating to the period of his broadcasting in which he had held a valid British passport (which had lapsed in 1940). The courts reasoned that since he had enjoyed the protection that that document conferred, had used it to travel and could have used it in a neutral state, he owed reciprocal obligations to the Crown during the period of its validity, notwithstanding that he hadn’t strictly been entitled to it in the first place.
His conviction was not without controversy, but it is hard to see any moral objection. Joyce had deceived the British authorities into thinking he was a British citizen when it suited him. He should have realised that they might go along with that pretence when it suited them. He fully deserved to come unstuck on that one.
In the years since, Joyce’s apologists have suggested he was executed out of revenge, or prejudice against his Irish origins.
Revenge is a distasteful motive, although it is easy for those who did not live through the terror of the Blitz to say so. As to the second point, Joyce was an ardent unionist who claimed to have fled Ireland to escape assassination by the IRA, making him a curious candidate for martydom in the cause of Irish independence.
Once it had been established that Joyce owed allegiance to the Crown for a certain period, then it did not matter that his impugned acts had been committed outside the jurisdiction, in the light of a case from the previous war involving another famous traitor, Sir Roger Casement.
Casement’s history was if anything more colourful than Joyce’s. He had gained fame, and a knighthood, for exposing colonial depredations in Africa and South America. Upon returning to the UK, he aligned himself with the cause of Irish nationalism. During the Great War he attempted (without much success) to obtain material support from Germany for an Irish uprising. He was caught and charged with treason on his return to the UK.
Casement’s defence argued that all of his impugned acts had taken place on German soil. That was deemed irrelevant on the court’s interpretation of the Treason Act 1351, which defined treason as giving the King’s enemies “aid and comfort in the realm, or elsewhere”; “elsewhere” being defined as elsewhere than the jurisdiction.
That ruling was also not without controversy but, as with Joyce, the moral position seems clear, leaving aside the merits of Casement’s cause of Irish independence, the mitigation of his good work in Africa and the Americas, and the still unresolved “black diaries” controversy (wherein he was alleged to have been involved in what in modern terms would be called predatory sex tourism). Someone leaving the jurisdiction, plotting to overthrow the state and then returning should not expect the state to find itself powerless to respond.
Archbold 2010 notes that the law of treason seems to have fallen into disuse, with no prosecutions since Joyce’s time despite a number of apparently qualifying individuals. The authorities seem now to prefer other charges. The offence remains on the statute books, however, and if the likes of Hamza persist in their ways it might pay the CPS to reconsider its use. Nowadays inflammatory speech might find a defence based on Art 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, but other treasonous activities such as raising funds to support Britain’s enemies would not.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Bribery Act 2010 - hoping against hope?
The Bribery Act 2010 received royal assent on 8 April. According to the Ministry of Justice, it will among other things “provide a more effective legal framework to combat bribery in the public or private sectors” and “help tackle the threat that bribery poses to economic progress and development around the world”.
It is fair to say that the old regime was a fractured state of affairs, and it is also fair to say that it didn't achieve very much. In 2007, for example, the US brought 69 cases relating to foreign bribery, Germany 43 and the UK none at all.
It can't be said, therefore, that there was no case for reform. If anything the surprise is the length of time reform has taken; it is not as if the previous government was reticent about altering the criminal law, in any other respect. The total number of pages in Halsbury's Statutes devoted to criminal law more than doubled between 1997 and 2010. That sort of increase is totally inconsistent with the rule of law, which requires, among other things, the law to be reasonably stable and knowable in advance.
Justified or not, it may be doubted whether the new Act will have the desired effect. The fact that the old law was in a slightly jaded state can scarcely be a complete explanation for the dearth of successful prosecutions. Perhaps the most famous, or rather infamous, case of a non-prosecution was the Al Yamamah investigation of the mid-2000s by the Serious Fraud Office (SFO).
Investigation
Readers may recall that the investigation concerned the sale of Eurofighter jets to Saudi Arabia. The director of the SFO formed the view that there had been fraud, and began an investigation accordingly. All proceeded as normal until BAE Systems plc (the Eurofighter's manufacturer) said that to comply with a notice for disclosure would impair relations between Britain and Saudi Arabia. That initially did not suffice to prevent the investigation, but in short order the Saudis upped the stakes. They made quite clear that unless the investigation was halted two things would follow: first, the Eurofighter deal (and presumably any future weapons purchase) would be called off; and secondly, cooperation in the “war on terror” would cease. In case anyone didn't get the hint, the implications of the second threat were spelt out—British lives on British streets would be put at risk. And just to make sure the right people heard, they made those threats directly to No. 10 Downing Street (not being convinced of the constitutional arrangement of the independence of the prosecution process in Britain).
By means of a “Shawcross exercise” the Attorney General (who superintends the Director as with every other prosecutorial authority) had solicited the views of the cabinet in relation to the implications for foreign relations and, given the unambiguous threat emanating from Riyadh, ultimately concluded that it was not in the public interest to continue with the investigation, much less prosecute anyone.
That decision was the subject of well-known judicial review proceedings (R (on the application of Corner House Research) v Director of the Serious Fraud Office [2008] 4 All ER 927), but despite the Divisional Court railing against what it saw as an abominable interference with the rule of law, on appeal the House of Lords gave the complaints short shrift. Distasteful as it all was, their lordships held, the decision of the Director was not unlawful by traditional judicial review criteria, and therefore could not be interfered with by the courts. He had been entitled to take into account the public interest, in particular the threat to British lives, and indeed could have reached no other decision in the circumstances of the case (see John Cooper QC, “The Day We Sold the Rule of Law”, in Cases that Changed Our Lives, LexisNexis 2010).
Standpoint
One can look at the Al Yamamah affair from several different angles: a supine capitulation in the face of a foreign threat (that would presumably have set Lord Palmerston spinning in his grave), or a correct utilitarian balancing of the public interest. Or an outrageous selling out of the rule of law versus a proper exercise of the discretion which the prosecuting authorities have always correctly possessed. One thing, however, seems clear beyond argument: no matter what the state of the bribery laws, the Attorney General (or his subordinates) will exercise the discretion not to prosecute when they conclude it is not in the UK's interest to do so. And when British lives are at stake they will inevitably follow that course.
It would therefore pay to bear in mind that although the bribery laws may have changed—the “war on terror” continues unabated; the state of the nation's finances has become worse; we are still committed to a costly and protracted armed struggle in Afghanistan; our planned weapons procurement programmes are in a shaky state; which means the defence industry is as well; and we are as dependent on foreign oil as ever. In those circumstances it seems most improbable that nothing resembling the Al Yamamah deal will happen again and, if it does, that it will be treated any differently.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Halsbury's Law Exchange
The day we sold the Rule of Law
R (on the application of Corner House Research and another) v Director of Serious Fraud Office (BAE Systems plc, interested party) [2008] 4 All ER 927
A central tenet of the rule of law is an independent prosecutorial process, free of influence from central government or other external pressure. British Governments have long respected this principle, and a failure to do so brought down the first ever Labour administration in 1924.
In the mid-2000s, however, that principle was tested to the extreme. A British company had concluded several highly lucrative contracts with Saudi Arabia to sell fighter jets. The Serious Fraud Office (SFA) formed the view that there might have been bribery involved in some of those deals, and began an investigation accordingly.
Up with this the Saudi authorities did not intend to put. It was made clear that not only would commercial interests be threatened by the investigation, but intelligence sharing in the “war on terror” would cease. Bluntly put, this would place British lives at heightened risk from international terrorists. Faced with this unambiguous threat the Director of the SFA halted the investigation.
Concerned groups applied for judicial review of the Director’s decision. The Divisional Court, incensed by what it saw as a direct assault by a foreign power on the administration of justice, allowed the application.
Allowing the Director’s appeal, the House of Lords tried to pour cold water on the affair. The Director had lawfully exercised his undoubted discretion not to prosecute, and the courts were not entitled to intervene.
In a forthcoming LexisNexis book, Cases That Changed Our Lives, John Cooper QC considers the case and its legacy. He finds that the ultimate decision was legally correct, though the extremely distasteful manner of the threat to which the SFA was compelled to respond remains. But he also shows that underpinning the whole saga was the thoroughly unsatisfactory state of British bribery laws - adding a further depressing angle to the story.
Different readers may view the case in a variety of ways. On the one hand it could be a straightforward example of realpolitik. On the other it might be said to be emblematic of the murky nature of international weapons sales; a shameless selling-out of principle for thirty pieces of silver; a manifestation of hapless bribery laws; a shameful capitulation of the rule of law; a shameful capitulation of the entire British state in the face of a quasi declaration of war by a so-called ally; or all of the above.
One thing is certain: realpolitik or not, nothing positive exists to be said about the saga.
Friday, July 2, 2010
The court martial of Private Harry Farr
John Masefield, The Old Front Line, 1917
Introduction
At first light on 16 October 1916, Private Harry Farr of the 1st Battalion, the West Yorkshire Regiment, was led by his colleagues into a forest in the region of the Somme River in France. The eponymous allied offensive, the most bloody battle of the most bloody war in British history, was nearing its end. For all the blood spilt, the achievement of the battle had been limited to say the least: little ground had been gained, the general stalemate would thereafter resume, and the war would not be over for another two years and several million more deaths.
Private Farr would live to see none of that, for he was being taken into the woods that day for his own execution, having been found guilty of failing to take his place in the front line. In a gesture reminiscent of Charles I, who chose to wear two shirts on his final walk lest he shiver from cold and be mistaken for suffering cowardice, Private Farr declined the usual procedure of wearing a blindfold and chose instead to look his executioners in the eye. He faced twelve of his comrades, one of whom would have been issued with a blank bullet so that none could be absolutely sure he had killed one of his own. The order was then given by the commanding officer and the final act carried out: Private Farr was shot at dawn.
His trial by court martial a couple of weeks earlier had lasted only about 20 minutes. It resulted in a guilty verdict and a sentence of death. Unlike 90% of British soldiers who received the death sentence in the Great War, his sentence was not commuted, but instead was upheld on review by senior officers and then authorised by General Haig, Britain’s Commander-in-Chief on the Western Front, before being carried out as described on that grim October morning.
It is, one might reasonably suggest, fairly safe to assume that no-one present at Private Farr’s trial or execution would have even begun to imagine that almost ninety years later his daughter would be in attendance at the Royal Courts of Justice on the Strand to hear a judicial review of their actions. Nor would they have anticipated that Parliament would cut the litigation short by issuing a blanket pardon for Private Farr and all others executed for cowardice or related crimes in the Great War. Still less would they have imagined that Private Farr would have a Myspace page devoted to him.
All those things did come to pass, however, and thus in 2006 the trial of Private Harry Farr came to public attention as a reminder of the small part he played in the conflict which inflicted incalculable misery on the nations involved and changed all of them forever.
The context of the Great War
To understand properly the circumstances under which Private Farr’s trial and sentence were undertaken, it is necessary to say something of the nature of the war itself.
Britain actually differed quite markedly in her pre-war armed forces from the Continental powers. Most of the latter – including France, Germany and Russia – maintained a substantial standing army by way of national conscription. Britain did not. Her focus was on her empire, which depended on sea routes for trade, and her military focus was therefore on the navy, still the largest and most respected in the world in 1914. Her “contemptible little army” in the words attributed to Germany’s Kaiser Wilhelm (a badge the British subsequently adopted with honour) was by European standards not much more than a small, highly professional colonial police force. It was not designed for major-power conflict on the continent, for the simple reason that Britain’s strategic planning was aimed directly at avoiding such an event. Since the Napoleonic wars of a century earlier, Britain had intended that in any future general European conflict her contribution would be primarily naval and financial, with the army playing a limited role. The navy would secure the vital Empire trade routes and ensure that no invading army could cross the channel. The rise of Germany as the predominant industrial power was alarming to Britain chiefly because of the High Seas fleet, not the massive standing army.
In turn Britain was not of the greatest concern to Germany. Germany’s pre-war planning centred around the Franco-Russian alliance, which threatened her with war on two fronts. To avoid this Germany devised the Schlieffen plan, by which it hoped to defeat France before Russia had had a chance to mobilise fully.
In the event, of course, both Britain and Germany’s strategies failed completely. Germany was unable to knock out France in the first months of the war and was landed with war on two fronts. Meanwhile, realising that France would never hold Germany on its own, Britain became drawn totally into the land battle. The war was supposed to have been over by Christmas. As it happened, the guns were silent on Christmas Day 1914 – but only because men from both sides were famously meeting in an ad hoc truce in No Man’s Land between static trench defences. They would remain in the same trenches with remarkably little movement, despite enormous loss of life, for almost four more years.
The relevant point to be taken from the above is that the British army during the war faced a task of almost indescribable complexity and difficulty, for which it was almost completely unprepared. It went on to make many mistakes, some of calamitous proportions, and incur casualties on a scale which remains unprecedented in the nation’s history. And yet it was the only army engaged throughout the war which did not suffer a collapse at any point as well, of course, as emerging victorious. Moreover, by 1918 it had become the most powerful field army in the world – the only time in history that it has qualified for that description.
Two points follow. First, the popular image of the Generals in charge of this process as nothing more than bungling butchers, “donkeys leading lions”, (1) is not sustainable in the face of the army’s ultimate achievement, for all the undoubtedly serious, indeed horrific, mistakes they made in the process. Secondly, to expect military justice to achieve the same standard in the ghastly circumstances of 1914-18 as in peacetime is simply not realistic. The men who judged Private Farr in 1916 would have known that no significant breakthrough had occurred on the Somme, and that they would all be severely tested for some time to come, as proved to be the case. Indeed, the French army effectively collapsed the following year and Germany’s Operation Michael offensive in early 1918 all but broke the allied line.
Civilian life in the 1910s also requires mention. The understanding and ethos of what modern readers would call health and safety, employment rights and the welfare state were entirely different to that enjoyed by citizens of twenty-first century Britain. Life expectancy was far shorter. The soldiers who fought the Great War were born in Victorian times, and their attitudes to duty and character, particularly in the context of the armed forces, corresponded. The death penalty was the mandatory punishment in civilian Britain for murder and a possible punishment for a number of other offences as well.
It follows that it cannot be assumed that the majority of civilians or soldiers at the time would have viewed the execution of soldiers for cowardice (or any other crime) in the same way as those in the present day might. Nor was the issue of military casualties generally viewed the same way as it is today – indeed, the Great War itself is perhaps the primary reason for the change in attitude towards incurring casualties in war. (2)
Private Farr’s war
Harry Farr enters the story of the Great War at the beginning, volunteering for the British Expeditionary Force in 1914. There is no dispute that he was subjected to shell fire. An excellent article by the psychiatrist and medical historian Simon Wessel describes in more detail the actions which led to Private Farr’s death:
“At 9.00 am [on 17 September 1916] Farr asked for permission to fall out, saying he was not well. He was sent to see the medical officer, who either found nothing wrong with him, or refused to see him because he had no physical injury—the Court Martial papers are unclear on this point. Later that night Farr was found still at the rear, and was again ordered to go the trenches. He refused, telling Regimental Sergeant Major Haking, that he ‘could not stand it’. Then Hanking replied ‘You are a fucking coward and you will go to the trenches. I give fuck all for my life and I give fuck all for yours and I'll get you fucking well shot’. At 11.00 pm that night a final attempt was made to get Private Farr up to the front line, and he was escorted forward. A fracas broke out between Farr and his escorts, and this time they let him run away. The following morning he was arrested and charged with contravening section 4 (7) of the Army Act—showing cowardice in the face of the enemy.
The Field General Court Martial took place 2 weeks later. Four soldiers gave evidence against Farr, confirming the general sequence of events, which Farr did not deny. Farr was not represented by a so called ‘prisoner's friend’ (this was not unusual), but spoke in his own defence. He was asked by the president of the court whether he had the opportunity to report sick between the night of the offence and now; Farr replied that he had indeed had the opportunity but had not done so. When asked why Farr replied, almost certainly unwisely for his future, that this was because ‘being away from the shell fire I felt better’. The Court then heard about his medical history and his disciplinary record, which, apart from a brief period of going absent without leave in 1914 had been exemplary. Private Farr had spent several months in a rear hospital in 1915 with a diagnosis of shell shock, had been treated by the medical officer with the same diagnosis in April 1916, and again for one day in July 1916. Unfortunately, the medical officer who had treated Farr was not able to give evidence: he had been severely wounded.”
As Dr Wessel points out, on those facts, from the perspective of military law Private Farr did not stand a chance. He had willingly gone absent in the face of the enemy. His colleagues had not spoken in his defence, although it had been acknowledged that his service record was mostly exemplary. But the inevitable verdict on the facts was guilty, and the customary sentence was death.
Private Farr was one of 306 in the British army to be executed in the Great War. Of those 266 were shot for desertion, 18 for cowardice, seven for quitting their posts and two for casting away their arms. The remaining 13 were executed for other, unrelated crimes such as murder. As mentioned the 306 constitute only approximately 10% of the total number actually sentenced to death following a court martial in the War; the rest had their sentences commuted.
The aftermath
Private Farr’s widow, Gertrude, was not told of the circumstances initially, and therefore believed he had died in action. In fact she only discovered the truth when her war pension was stopped. For the Farr family, as for the families of all of the executed soldiers, the manner of Private Farr’s death was kept as a shameful secret for years afterwards. His daughter, Gertrude Harris, born two years before the outbreak of the war, did not learn what had happened until she was 40. She in turn kept the secret for another 40 years, and it was not until the British Government’s decision in 1992 to lift the classification of the relevant surviving documents for all the executed soldiers that a public campaign began in earnest to clear his name.
As it happened, only some half a dozen documents were found relating to Private Farr’s trial and as Dr Wessel states his full medical records had been lost. Based on what was known, however, his relatives and their supporters formed the view that in modern medical terminology he had been suffering from hyperacusis/misophonia, or category 4 acoustic shock, which renders the ear incapable of softening and filtering sound and makes loud noises physically unbearable.
Nevertheless, the initial response of the government of the day was to refuse a pardon for any of the executed soldiers. Its reasoning concerned the paucity of documentary evidence and the fact that almost all relevant witnesses were long deceased, as well as opposition in principle to passing official reinterpretations of the actions of soldiers in a war which had taken place almost eighty years previously.
The change of government in 1997 brought no immediate success for the campaign. The then-armed forces minister, Dr John Reid, considered the possibility of pardons under the royal prerogative, and concluded in 1998 that few if any of the individual cases would meet the standard requirements, again due to the quality of evidence. (3) It was considered that as far as could be discerned the law as it then stood seemed to have been followed. It was, however, declared that “those executed were as much victims of war as the soldiers and airmen who were killed in action ..." (4)
That last gesture did not satisfy Private Farr’s relatives and in March 2006, all other avenues having failed, they appeared in the High Court seeking judicial review of the refusal to grant a pardon. Parliament was spurred into action and, following an adjournment of the proceedings, responded with the final act in the legal saga, s 359 of the Armed Forces Act 2006. It was freely acknowledged in the House that the inherent difficulties in the issue rendered the solution a compromise.
Section 359 is headed: “Pardons for servicemen executed for disciplinary offences: recognition as victims of First World War”. Subsections (1) and (2) provide:
(1) This section applies in relation to any person who was executed for a relevant offence committed during the period beginning with 4 August 1914 and ending with 11 November 1918.
(2) Each such person is to be taken to be pardoned under this section in respect of the relevant offence (or relevant offences) for which he was executed.
Subsection (3) defines “relevant offence” as including various offences along the lines of cowardice, then subsection (4) states somewhat casually:
(4) This section does not—
(a) affect any conviction or sentence;
(b) give rise to any right, entitlement or liability; or
(c) affect the prerogative of mercy.
And that was that. No individual soldier’s conviction or sentence was overturned and no surviving relatives or anyone else was to be given any compensation. It was simply that each of the executed soldiers was, by legal fiction, “taken to be pardoned ... in respect of the relevant offence ... for which he was executed”.
The Act was not passed without opposition. For Gerald Howarth MP, the fudge represented by s 359 achieved nothing. Since it did not overturn any conviction and could not commute the sentence, he argued, “we are entitled to ask what it does do.”(5)
For Gertrude Harris, however, by then 93 years of age, it was enough:
“Well to be truthful, I'm overwhelmed. I prayed that it would happen in my lifetime but I never realised really that it would. It's come really as a shock today.
We were determined for my mother’s sake because she always said he was no coward, he was a very brave soldier and he fought for his country and he died fighting for his country.”
Reactions in the media were mixed. Corelli Barnett, a military historian, told the Telegraph newspaper:
“These were decisions taken in the heat of a war when the commanders' primary duty was to keep the Army together and to keep it fighting. They were therefore decisions taken from a different moral perspective.
"For the people of this generation to come along and second-guess decisions taken then is wrong.
"It was done in a particular historical setting and in a particular moral and social climate. It's pointless to give these pardons. What’s the use of a posthumous pardon?”
Others endorsed the move, citing Mrs Harris’ arguments with approval.
The pardon: right or wrong?
The length of time it took for Gertrude Harris to obtain the pardon given by s 359 indicates the extent of the controversy involved. Those in favour of the pardon argued that given that so few of those sentenced to death had actually been executed, to be shot at dawn was a form of random chance rather than the application of legal principle. Moreover, they considered that there were strong indications that a miscarriage of justice had occurred in at least some of the executions. Understanding of shell-shock had increased out of all recognition since 1916. Thus, the argument ran, even if the executions were justified on the understanding of the time, the families of the deceased should not have to live with the feeling of shame when, by the standard of knowledge in the present day, no wrong had been committed. The fact that there were readily identifiable direct descendants such as Gertrude Harris was used to distinguish the case of the Great War executions from the countless predecessors. (6) Further, Germany, France, Ireland and New Zealand had already pardoned their soldiers who were executed in the Great War.
Some concessions were made along the way which rendered the 2006 Act much less than a full acquittal for all the dead. Section 359(4)(a) explicitly stated that the convictions stood, in order to acknowledge that the men who sat on the courts martial were undertaking conscientiously the duty of maintaining military discipline in accordance with the law then applicable; indeed they were doing what they were legally bound by military law to do.
Those opposed, of whom this author remains one, always maintained that it could not be right for a generation that had not known the horrors of the First World War to be casting judgement on those that had. A number of modern historians have challenged the idea that conduct of the Great War was little more than a serious of disastrous blunders by uncaring and antediluvian Generals (7). The courts martial should be seen in the context of the extraordinary crisis that the British army faced, and if there is to be judgement with hindsight it surely has to include the knowledge that the British army eventually won.
That there were identifiable and living descendants of the men shot at dawn was not necessarily persuasive for considering their cases as opposed to any other alleged historical injustice. The actual victims were the soldiers themselves, who were obviously all dead. One could trace living descendants of countless other supposed historical injustices. Instead of picking and choosing on the happenstance of living relatives, or trying to decide the most worthy historical causes, it cannot be too callous logic to argue that judicial and Parliamentary resources should be prioritised for the living and to allow the rights and wrongs of the past to remain the preserve of historians.
It is not as though the offences themselves were contrary to modern morals: the crimes of desertion and cowardice remain just as much a part of military law in 2006 as in 1916. The main objection therefore has to be the correctness of the individual convictions – which Parliament itself regularly found impossible to judge given the paucity of surviving evidence – or the use of the death penalty (the public campaign used the phrase “shot at dawn” not “convicted of cowardice or desertion”).
Two points are relevant to the death penalty: first, by abolishing capital punishment completely (8) the Government had already made clear that no-one would be shot at dawn in today’s army even in a reprise of the Great War. If anything, that was a more concrete gesture than the watered-down pardon under the 2006 Act. Secondly, given that the death penalty in 1914-18 was a generally accepted and regularly used form of civilian punishment, there does not seem to be a justification for a specific pardon for those executed during wartime. The pardon did not extend to those who were sentenced to death but whose sentences were commuted, despite the fact that their names were just as shamed. The offences of cowardice and desertion are also still considered to be severe offences, particularly for soldiers on active duty, rather than some of the trivial offences which attracted capital punishment in centuries past.
The prior objections of the state to a pardon had focused primarily on the quality of evidence, and those objections were never fully answered. Indeed, they were cited as a reason for the pardon in the form it eventually appeared. Whatever the qualifications in the 2006 Act, however, the reality was and remains that most of the lay public would read the granting of the pardon as being exculpatory of the executed.
Some 5.7 million served in the British army and it would be statistically improbable for there to have been no instances of cowardice or desertion amongst them. The authorities during the Great War decided that there had been approximately 3,000 such instances, but applied the ultimate sanction only to 10% of them. That seems less arbitrary and cruel than humane. Indeed, the statistics point to an unknown and unknowable further probability. More than 80,000 veterans were diagnosed with shell shock after the war, prompting the Government of the day to establish a commission on the subject, and indeed shellfire caused the majority of all casualties on the Western Front. One can assume therefore that there must have been thousands of instances of minor shell shock, the sufferers of which did not actually become recorded casualties. Some would have become disorientated for a short while at least, and been separated from their units. Technically they would or might have been considered deserters. And yet what must have happened on many such occasions (for, if it had not, there would have been far more prosecutions than there were in fact) is that sympathetic soldiers from other units would have ushered the men back to their own units, where they would have been received without many questions being asked.
Perhaps too the soldiers who carried out the courts martial and executions would have felt slurred by the pardon, or at least an inference that they been doing other than their lawful duty in a conscientious fashion. Or perhaps they would have approved of the pardon – certainly one who spoke eighty years after the war, John Laister, may well have done if his reported comments were accurate. Laister, speaking to the BBC in 1999, said of his experience as part of a firing squad: “There were tears in his eyes and tears in mine”. He also described his victim as “looking no more than a boy.” But by 2006 all involved had died (since then all remaining veterans of the Western Front have as well) and the majority never spoke of the events, and so we will never know.
Which of course brings one back to the fundamental objection: the pardon was imposing a judgment on men who were not there to defend their actions, who acted in circumstances which the people of 2006 never knew for themselves, and who were prosecuting acts which remain military offences to this day. We should hesitate long before deciding for ourselves before passing judgment on them. (9)
Afterword
On one view Private Farr’s case could be seen as a mere footnote in four years of unprecedented bloodshed. But it certainly came to be of the foremost importance to the relatives and descendants of the men who shared his fate, and, moreover, it served to bring to a later generation’s attention the war which had an incalculable and irrevocable effect on Britain and her Empire. It brought again to public attention the debates over the competence of those who ran the war and whether it had been a just war.
As to those involved, General Haig was made Field Marshal in January 1917. He returned from the war a national hero, and had the choice of virtually any peacetime role he might have chosen. He declined official posts, however, and spent the remaining ten years of his life dedicating himself to the welfare of veterans. Among other things he was instrumental in the formation of the British Legion. Of course public opinion turned against him, and his family too fought for many years to defend his name, though unlike Private Farr there was no official condemnation to challenge. (10)
Private Farr’s wife died in 1993, but their daughter, Gertrude Harris, as we have seen, lived to hear of her father’s pardon. Private Farr’s name appears on one of the many Great War memorials, and the Shot at Dawn campaign has since been represented, not without some controversy, at the Remembrance Sunday parade. The legal debate having been concluded, the matter now rests once more with military historians, who will doubtless continue to debate the merits of the pardon for many years yet.
Note: the above was written for a forthcoming book, though it is not now going to be included. I am considering various other places which might be appropriate.
Endnotes
(1) The phrase “lions led by donkeys” is often wrongly attributed to a German general speaking of the British army of the First World War, when there is no evidence for that. Nevertheless the image it creates is one still found in the popular imagination, thanks no doubt in part to fictional works such as the film Oh! What a Lovely War or the television series Blackadder Goes Forth. This part of the essay seeks very briefly to counter the view; the further reading list contains a rather fuller account.
(2) At the outset, when Germany invaded neutral Belgium, there was a great public outcry demanding that Britain intervene. When she did, news of the declaration was greeted with public celebrations in Trafalgar Square and elsewhere. By the end, of course, the war had come to be known as the “war to end all wars”. The subsequent decade saw the rise of the pacifist movement, and there was no celebration whatever when Britain found herself manoeuvred into the Second World War.
(3) See Hansard HoC debates 7 Nov 2006 : Column 766.
(4) Richard Holmes, The Western Front 1999, p 176.
(5) Hansard, HoC debates, 7 November 2006, col. 772
(6) See eg “End of Shame” by Stephen Moss The Guardian, 19 August 2006
(7) One rather churlish comment was made in Parliament about the absurdity of reviewing alleged injustices committed during the battle of Agincourt (Hansard, HoC debates, 7 Nov 2006 : Column 778).
(8) See eg John Terraine, Gordon Corrigan, Richard Holmes and Gary Sheffield.
(9) The last remaining provisions for the death penalty under military jurisdiction (including during wartime) were removed on 9 November 1998 when s 21(5) of the Human Rights Act 1998 came into force. On 10 October 2003, effective from 1 February 2004, the UK acceded to the 13th Protocol of the European Convention on Human Rights, which prohibits the death penalty under all circumstances.
(10) In this respect Francis Bennion’s article Rewriting history in the Court of Appeal 148 NLJ (1998) 1228 makes cogent points.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Falklands again
This is only so if Britain is again naive enough not to anticipate an Argentine invasion. Otherwise the British hunter-killer nuclear submarine fleet would be eminently able to exclude completely any seaborne invasion attempt, and it is more than doubtful whether the Argentine air force has the capacity to mount and sustain an air invasion.
Even if it does, since the cause of the strain on Britain's forces has been the very serious commitment to US-led invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, on the basis of the much-discussed "special relationship", I wondered if there would be a chance of the US lending us the assistance of one of its eleven carrier battle groups.
On 25 February the US gave the answer: No.
The "special relationship" remains as special as ever.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Defence priorities
From http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/letters/article6843406.ece
September 22, 2009
Sir, The first and last consideration in defence procurement (letters, Sept 18) should be obtaining the best quality equipment for our Forces given the resources available, not in providing a substitute for unemployment benefit for the incumbent government’s marginal constituencies. I would far rather have to inform a factory worker that he or she is being made redundant than have to explain to a soldier’s parents that their child has been killed because of inadequate equipment. That it has taken four decades to produce a worthy partly British-built combat jet is an argument against, not for, attempting any such folly in future.
The only actual combat role that it is possible to conceive the Eurofighter undertaking is that of supporting ground troops against insurgents. Such a role can be carried out more effectively — and cheaply — by drones and attack helicopters.
Strategic bombing would be more effective, cheaper, and far less risky to personnel if undertaken by cruise missiles (or stealth aircraft, which the Eurofighter is not) rather than by conventional fast jets.
The US military budget exceeds the next largest by a factor virtually unprecedented in history, and the cost-effectiveness of purchasing American equipment often corresponds. Further, there is no chance of Britain undertaking significant combat operations without at least some American equipment and assistance or — it might as well be conceded — political approbation.
Vulcan's Victory
Letter 09:
(from http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/letters/article1744259.ece)Sir, Ian Mitchell (letter, May 3) argues that the significance of the Vulcan attacks on Port Stanley has been overrated. Roland White, in his book Vulcan 607 (Corgi, 2006), contends that there were three direct results of the Vulcan raid: Any remaining plans for fast-jet operations by the Argentinians from Stanley were cancelled; the Mirage jets were removed to the north of Argentina to defend targets that were not on the British list; and, most significantly, the Argentine Navy put to sea because it thought that the Black Buck raids were a prelude to invasion. That led to the Belgrano sinking and the consequent withdrawal of the entire Argentine Navy.
Hugh Bucheno’s Razor’s Edge: The Unofficial History of the Falklands War (Phoenix, 2007) points out the effect of the raids on Argentine morale and that, although the Royal Navy and the RAF could have lost the war had they failed in their roles, only the troops on the ground could actually win it. One of the most important lessons of this war is that inter-Service rivalry may jeopardise an entire operation.
The Belgrano sinking
Sir, Magnus Linklater (comment, April 4), writes of the Falklands War: “Famously, the Belgrano was attacked by the nuclear submarine Conqueror when it was heading away from the task force, a fact concealed in the House of Commons. . . ” and refers to “the subsequent decision by the war Cabinet to sink the Argentine battleship”.
First, the Belgrano was a cruiser. More importantly, the Cabinet was unaware of the Belgrano’s change of course before the cruiser was attacked. The decision to sink her was not that of the Cabinet but of the task force commander, Admiral Sandy Woodward, who subsequently wrote: “The speed and direction of an enemy ship can be irrelevant, because both can change quickly. What counts is his position, his capability and what I believe to be his intention.” The Cabinet acceded to the request of Admiral Woodward because it was well aware of the danger of playing armchair generals 8,000 miles from the conflict.
In retrospect it can be seen that the sinking was the decisive action of the war. The Argentine Navy retreated to port thereafter, for the duration of the conflict.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Passing judgement
From http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/letters/article704083.ece
April 11, 2006
We should not pass judgment
Sir, Trevor Harvey (letter, Apr 7) is right to infer that we should not attempt to pass judgment on events in our distant past, such as the execution of Harry Farr. Already the case has taken up valuable judicial resources, as indeed have other recent reviews of long ago cases such as those of Derek Bentley, Ruth Ellis and James Hanratty. In all of these cases judicial proceedings only came about because the deceased had living relatives. We should not expend public resources on cases which turn on that happenstance.
Debating whether the likes of Private Farr suffered shell-shock is a matter of interest for medical historians, but we should hesitate before proposing to pass judgment on events as far removed as the Great War. It is fashionable to dismiss the generals of the day as “donkeys” and to rail against the supposed brutality of shooting for deserters. But it should also be recalled that of all the armies involved in the war from the outset, only the British did not suffer a collapse of morale at any point, as well, of course, as emerging victorious.

