Whilst the power of the police to release a person on bail prior to trial has existed for centuries, the power to release on bail a person suspected of but not charged with a criminal offence has been available to the police only since 1925. The power to attach conditions to pre-charge bail is of very recent origin, having been introduced for the first time in 2003 but rapidly expanded since then. Whilst imposing restrictions on the liberty of a person should, constitutionally, be reserved to the judiciary, the fact that it was originally conceived, in part at least, as a mechanism for enhancing liberty reduced the constitutional tension created by allowing members of the executive such powers. However, the changing role of arrest in the investigation of crime and the granting of extensive powers to the police to impose bail conditions means that the police now have the ability to place controls on people not charged with a criminal offence for extended periods of time. It is argued here that this is in breach of the right to liberty under Article 5 of the European Convention on Human Rights and, in practice, may also breach other Convention rights.

The logical “slippery slope” argument is of key relevance to the ongoing debate about “assisted dying”. The argument runs that if the principle of respect for autonomy and the principle of beneficence justify voluntary euthanasia, then the principle of beneficence justifies non-voluntary euthanasia. Several prominent scholars of medical law and medical ethics have either rejected or at least not accepted the argument, including Gerald Dworkin and Raymond Frey; Margaret Battin; Hallvard Lillehammer; Stephen Smith; Robert Young; Emily Jackson; and Steven Daskal. This paper analyses their reasoning and finds it wanting. It concludes that the logical argument stands unrebutted and merits much greater attention.

This article considers how third parties may be held personally liable for harm inflicted by, and upon, the intoxicated. It charts the development of ‘alcohol liability’ in Canada and Australia and then goes on to demonstrate how this novel category of liability for the acts of others is beginning to work its way into the English law of tort.

The author makes two claims in this paper. First, there appears to be an increase in indications of inconsistency (“IoIs”) across the common law world. Second, this increase is a normatively concerning turn in judicial practice. IoIs are judicial statements which, either explicitly or by implication, indicate that primary legislation is incompatible with certain protected human rights or civil liberties. They are related to, but stop short of, the formal remedies known as declarations of inconsistency (“DoIs”).

Historically, English and Irish Law were both distinctly protective of marriage (still understood as an exclusively heterosexual institution)1 as compared to other forms of adult relationship. In the 1950 English case of Gammans v. Ekins, it was famously deemed an “abuse of the English language” to say that an unmarried couple “masquerading” as husband and wife were members of the same family.2 In its Constitution, meanwhile, the Irish state “pledges itself to guard with special care the institution of Marriage, on which the Family is founded, and to protect it against attack”.3 The powerfulness of this “pledge” can be seen from the fact that divorce was not possible in Ireland until a 1995 referendum resulted in a constitutional amendment.4

In the Preface to his recent book, Samples of Lawmaking, Lord Devlin rather sadly doubted “whether judges will now of their own motion contribute much more to the development of the law. Statute,” he said, “is a more powerful and flexible instrument for the alteration of the law than any that a judge can wield.” Since those words were written Lord Devlin has himself contributed to some substantial judicial reforms of the law, notably in Rookes v. Barnard and Hedley Byrne & Co. Ltd. v. Heller & Partners Ltd., but it does, of course, remain true that it is very much easier for the legislature than for any court, however strong, to bring changes to the law. It is also true, generally at least, that when we speak of law reform we mean reform by statute and we try to formulate in a draft Bill the rules of law that we should like to see. To my mind, however, it is unfortunate that we so often try to find a formulation which provides in some detail for the particular situations we have in mind and which is designed to give the court the minimum opportunity for what is sometimes called creative interpretation. With a few exceptions—the Contributory Negligence Act and the Occupiers’ Liability Act are examples—we do not legislate in such a way as to give the judges a new principle expressed in general terms and leave it to them to work out the application of that principle in the cases that arise.

Students interested in the concepts of cause and consideration must, surely, have been struck by two things. The first is the extraordinary tenacity which has enabled these concepts to survive the attacks of eloquent critics who have doubted their utility. The second is their equally remarkable ability to accommodate the most divergent comparative theories. For the study of the two notions has led some to argue that they are, in reality, the same; others to insist that they are totally different; while yet another school of thought could be taken to doubt whether there is “any point in comparing cause and consideration, even to contrast the two.”

The study of the legal systems of many countries—notably of the systems of West Germany, and Switzerland—reveals that there can be built a theory of contract which ignores the concepts of cause (as the French understand it) or consideration (as the Common lawyers have come to apply it over the years).

The beginning of the sixteenth century saw a grave constitutional conflict, ending in a revolution—a conflict and revolution in which lawyers became principal actors. “In the hands of Coke the Common Law forged the axe which beheaded Charles I.” Dr. Cowell, Master of Trinity Hall from 1598 to 1611, played a leading part in that conflict—though on the losing side.

I propose in this article to examine two questions: the original system of government of the Inns of Court and the original relationship between call to the bar and the right of audience in the Royal Courts. Primarily I shall be concerned with the first question: I shall deal with the history of call to the bar only incidentally, and I do so because the two subjects are intimately connected with each other.

IN the 2001 census, nine per cent of the population of England and Wales were not classified as white. Racial tensions undeniably exist and it is probable that amongst the individuals randomly selected from the electoral roll to serve as jurors there will be some with race-related prejudices. By this we mean the inclination to prejudge others using pejorative stereotypes based on perceptions of “race, colour, descent or national or ethnic origin”.

English administrative law treats almost all errors of law as reviewable. Concerns that this deprives administrators of their autonomy have led to calls for a distinction to be drawn between jurisdictional and non-jurisdictional errors of law. This was commonplace for much of administrative law's history. Such calls have fallen on deaf ears as courts and commentators express caution towards retreating to an approach which, it is said, led to a “wilderness of single instances”. This article examines the older law to see whether that was really the case, concentrating on the important decision of the Court of Queen's Bench in R. v Bolton (1841).

COX v Ministry of Justice [2016] UKSC 10; [2016] 2 W.L.R. 806, and Mohamud v Wm Morrison Supermarkets plc. [2016] UKSC 11; [2016] 2 W.L.R. 821 expand the reach of vicarious liability. In Various Claimants v Institute of the Brothers of the Christian Schools [2012] UKSC 56; [2013] 2 A.C. 1 (“CCWS”), Lord Phillips had declared vicarious liability “is on the move”. Lord Reed stated in Cox “it has not yet come to a stop”.