For the reformers it was an open and shut case. As Gerlis put it, the
traditional conventions — from the use of expressions such as “My learned
friend” to Latin expressions such as lis mota and praecipe — were out of
place when communication, through texting, was moving towards shorter words
and expressions. Traditional legal language did not serve the public who
were entitled to understand the rules and regulations that governed their
lives, he said.
This was underlined by Clive Ludlow, a prison officer at Belmarsh, who spoke
from the floor on behalf of Safe Ground, the education charity. He said that
a survey of prisoners indicated that many were baffled by the legal
arguments that determined their futures.
Atkins recounted her own recent and confusing experience with a lawyer. “It’s
very important that I, as a client, understand what you, as my legal
adviser, are saying.”
In response Gordon and Ley conceded that many complicated forms of expressions
could be dropped. But the problem, they said, was not with English legal
language but with the lawyers who used it — and who lapsed too readily into
well-worn phrases.
Gordon said this was not the fault of the language. Its strength and vigour
lay in a history of solid Anglo-Saxon words, with the occasional Latin and
French term to provide consistency and concision. As Jonathan Croucher, of
Taylor Wessing, pointed out: “The law is often not straightforward.” It was
inevitable that some complexity would creep in.
As the debate progressed, the case for precision cut the ground from beneath
the feet of the radicals. The “rushed” Dangerous Dogs Act 1991 highlighted
the dangers that arose when seemingly clear words such as “pitbull terrier”
were used. The public might think that they knew what the words meant, but
that would not be enough in a court where exactitude and certainty were
required, said Ley. Correctly used legal language would guard against these
ambiguities.
Speaking from the floor, Professor Susan Nash, the Dean of the City Law
School, City University, raised the issue of whether universities should
share the blame for obscure legal communication.
She said that the need for “appropriate language suited to the listener” was
heavily emphasised at law schools, such as her own, but the complexity of
law inevitably meant that some technical language would have to be used —
although only when essential.
The question hanging over the debate was whether the French today were doing
any better than in the 14th century. Pascal Chadenet, of Salans, the Paris
law firm, said that while French contracts were usually shorter than their
English equivalents, French legal discourse was at least as confusing and
often more complex. “When you read a decision of the French court you often
don’t understand the question, let alone the answer,” he said.
Leon Pickering and Saad Butt, both law students, summarised the arguments,
followed by Lord Justice Jacob, who, in his guidance to the audience, said:
“In the courts one only saw the pathology of the law, not the physiology.”
The point went home. The vote revealed that the audience had changed its
mind and soundly rejected the motion.
