Force majeure (FM) clauses are designed to free both parties to a contract from liability when an event beyond their control prevents one or both of them from performing the contract. Examples of such events include inclement weather, natural catastrophes, political upheaval, changes in applicable rules or regulations, or unavailability of essential supplies or services. It is common to include FM clauses in manufacturing, construction or transportation contracts, where there is a high risk of such events occurring due to the length of time required to perform the contract, or the complexity of the performance obligations. Often a lot of money is at stake and pre-allocating the risk of such events is crucial to avoid disputes further down the line. While disputes regarding the meaning and effect of FM clauses may not be unusual, such disputes rarely reach the Supreme Court. MUR Shipping was one such rare case.

The Irish Constitution contains a pre-enactment abstract review procedure under Article 26 whereby, before signing a Bill into law, the President can refer the Bill to the Supreme Court for a decision on its constitutionality. However, only 16 such references have ever been made. The reason Irish Presidents have been cautious about sending Bills to the Supreme Court for abstract review relates to the fact that if a Bill survives the Article 26 review process, it then acquires an immunity from further challenge under Article 34.3.3. This has sometimes been referred to as a ‘seal of constitutionality’ and the absolute nature of this blanket immunity has been criticised because it means that, in practice, the review process is rarely used. By its very nature, abstract review suffers from the defect that the provisions are being looked at in a vacuum, without the benefit of a concrete factual scenario and it may be that circumstances later arise which could result in an unconstitutionality that was not apparent when the Bill was initially examined. For this reason, Presidents will sometimes decide not to refer a Bill, even one which is considered controversial, for fear of closing off the Bill to potential future challenges; they may feel it is better for challenges to occur organically as situations arise rather than to prevent a situation where a future challenge is blocked by the immunity following the review process. As Hogan has put it, ‘[w]ithout a plaintiff, a court may fail to anticipate side-effects or unintended consequences of the law’. The paucity of occurrences means that when the procedure is invoked, there is a great interest (amongst members of the legal and academic communities at least) in the process and outcome.

To promote cooperation among stakeholders in different jurisdictions to facilitate coordinated insolvency proceedings, the United Nations Commission on International Trade Law (UNCITRAL) adopted the Model Law on Cross-Border Insolvency (MLCBI) in 1997. The MLCBI harmonises certain procedural aspects of the cross-border insolvency process, though states may choose to make modifications when adopting the MLCBI in their own legal systems. This was completed in Singapore in 2017, and the Singapore Model Law (SML) can now be found in the Third Schedule to the Insolvency, Restructuring and Dissolution Act 2018 (2020 Rev Ed) (IRDA 2018). One topic that has been the subject of much debate internationally is whether foreign solvent proceedings can be recognised under the MLCBI or the corresponding provisions in various jurisdictions: the Nevada Bankruptcy Court first answered this question in the affirmative, but this was explicitly rejected by the High Court of England and Wales (EWHC) in Re Sturgeon Central Asia Balanced Fund Ltd (in liquidation) (No 2) (Re Sturgeon). In Ascentra Holdings, Inc (in official liquidation) v SPGK Pte Ltd (Ascentra), the Singapore Court of Appeal (SGCA) held that foreign proceedings concerning solvent companies may be recognised under the SML. This commentary addresses the salient points of the SGCA's judgment and highlights the positive impact of this gradual harmonisation of the approaches taken in different jurisdictions to the MLCBI. Through a comparative analysis of the conflicting Re Sturgeon decision, three additional justifications based on the preparatory documents pertaining to the MLCBI, relevant authorities in the UK and a purposive reading of the MLCBI are provided for the approach in Ascentra. It is contended in closing that these reasons support the argument for definitively overruling the Re Sturgeon decision in the UK.

The purpose of this paper is to examine the contours of evolving jurisprudence on offensive expression and negative messages, and to suggest that it can best be understood by reference to the concept of stigma. At the European Court of Human Rights, there appears to have been an increasing willingness to recognise the harm of offensive expression through an interpretation of Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights, but the reach of this case law remains uncertain. In particular, while some cases associate negative expression with negative stereotyping, not all of these cases do, and there are potential conflicts with freedom of speech. In the domestic context, these issues recently arose in a significant case from the Court of Appeal, R (Crowter) v Secretary of State for Health and Social Care. In this case, the appellants argued that a legal provision sends a negative ‘message’, through the negative stereotyping of disabled people, but this ‘message’ is implicit, rather than explicitly articulated. While these developments raise important questions about the future evolution of case law, we propose that a focus on stigma can more clearly highlight the harms involved.

This paper examines the question of reparation for non-recent institutional child sexual abuse in England and Wales and Australia in the light of independent inquiries which reported in 2022 (England and Wales) and 2017 (Australia). Both inquiries recommended the introduction of state-based redress schemes that would exist alongside private law. While the new UK government considers how to proceed, Australia has established a national redress scheme, there have been changes to private law and new legislation reforming tort law and removing procedural obstacles such as limitation. In evaluating the Australian reforms and the case for change in English law, this paper examines the different roles state-based redress and private law compensation play in responding to the harm suffered by victims and survivors of sexual abuse. It argues that there are urgent lessons that the UK government should learn from the Australian experience in establishing a redress scheme and that while legislative change to substantive private law has proven less than successfull in Australia, legislation on limitation periods and suing unincorporated associations has assisted plaintiffs. Finally there are lessons that private law can learn from state-based redress schemes in seeking to provide remedies that meet the distinctive needs of victims and survivors of child sexual abuse.

Since its inception in England and Wales, the partial defence to murder of loss of control has generated a steady stream of appeals. Individually, those appeals have illuminated key aspects of the plea's operation. This paper, though, is the first to explore that operation via a systematic analysis of every loss of control appeal to date (110 cases). Using that data, the paper frames more effectively, and thus improves understanding of, a neglected phenomenon in the plea: specifically, the decision-making roles of criminal justice ‘gatekeepers’ – principally trial judges, juries and prosecutors – in governing access to loss of control. In doing so, the paper assesses how far these gatekeepers interpret the plea's requirements in a ‘civilising’ way – one which prioritises meritorious loss of control claims above those which are unmeritorious. It contends that each gatekeeper struggles to regulate loss of control in such a way. Ultimately, this diminishes the symbolic value these reforms may have had and frustrates any civilising potential of homicide law reform.

This paper calls for the lawyering profession – which is often viewed as unabridged – to be reframed into two distinct occupations: legal aid practice and private practice, to better incorporate the divisions in labour. In order to better understand contemporary legal aid work and its workers, the hidden realities must be unveiled from behind their private counterparts, which opposingly signify wealth, professionalism, autonomy and privilege. Set within a context of crumbling professional identities, a shrinking industry and financial constraints, the paper draws on ethnographic and interview data. It finds that those working in legal aid undoubtedly face a more stagnated, under-resourced and precarious working environment, which means that their professional experience is vastly different from their private counterparts. Likewise, those in the field face toxic narratives from the government, the media, the public, and their private counterparts alike, resulting in persistent discourse of vilification. Ultimately, it calls for a refocus of legal aid work as a separate vocation due to its altruistic underpinnings, unique ‘professional’ identity, and values.

The closed material procedure (CMP) – ever since its introduction to English law – has been subjected to a very significant amount of academic criticism. But over time, the CMP has become increasingly settled as a fixture in English law. Whilst the existence of the CMP per se in English law seems settled, the extent of its deployment is not. Given this development, it seems important and constructive to examine whether – and the conditions under which – a CMP can ever be normatively justified, all things considered. Two propositions will be made. First, a common argument for the CMP – the maximising argument – does not demonstrate that the CMP is normatively justified, all things considered, for it does not sufficiently mitigate the two main objections to the CMP, based respectively on the principles of natural justice and open justice. Secondly, where the clear advantage variation is deployed – ie when a CMP allows the excluded party to make use of material that: (a) clearly advantages him; and (b) would otherwise be unavailable for the court's consideration – both objections are sufficiently mitigated. In such a case, the CMP is normatively justified, all things considered. This constitutes a limited normative case for the CMP.

This paper considers the legality of the UK practice of prosecuting trans people for sexual offences on the basis of deception as to gender history, a practice unknown in other member states. It argues that such prosecutions may constitute an unjustified violation of Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights. Moreover, it argues that where criminal prosecution falls within the scope of Article 8 but is viewed as objectively justified under Article 8(2), it may constitute a violation of Article 14. The paper will proceed as follows. Part 2 will provide some background context regarding prosecution of trans people for deception as to gender history in the UK. Part 3 will set out the current law pertaining to sexual fraud in England and Wales. Part 4 will present two arguments as to why prosecutions based on current English law, or Crown Prosecution Service interpretations of it, may violate Article 8: (1) a right to respect for privacy is undermined by lack of legal certainty regarding the threshold of criminal liability; and (2) deception as to gender history ought not to be considered a material deception serving to vitiate consent as a matter of law. Part 5 will consider the issue of potential discrimination under Article 14.

The sovereign power to control the entry and residence of persons in the state, and the corollary power to deport, has long been considered to be a defining feature of statehood. State discretion as to who may remain within the national border is, however, tempered by international and regional human rights obligations, as well as domestic constitutional principles. In this context, it is well established that a deportation will violate Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) if it constitutes a disproportionate interference with family and/or private life in the host country.