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Friday, 15 May 2026
BELIEVERS ONLY
Tuesday, 12 May 2026
YOUTH JUSTICE OR INJUSTICE?
The seeds of serious law breaking in adulthood have often been established within the youth justice system. England has amongst the lowest age of responsibility in Europe and where shoplifting is a concern in the high streets from Plymouth to Carlisle. The legal, social and moral path of magistrates faced with offending children is fraught with difficulties between retribution and rehabilitation. Last week at Highbury Corner magistrates court a bench led by a senior magistrate, Alexia Fetherstonhaugh, opted for the latter pathway for a teenager who pleaded guilty to a two year shoplifting spree of £116,000. A report is available here.
There is a particular brand of English self-flagellation that surfaces whenever crime statistics are published. We are, it is implied by headline writers and opposition spokesmen alike, uniquely delinquent. Our young people, we are told, are feral in ways that would dismay the good burghers of Copenhagen or Hamburg. Before those of us who have sat on the bench and seen something of what courts actually deal with are tempted to accept this grim verdict it is worth pausing to ask whether the evidence actually supports the conclusion being drawn.
The question is a specific one: are the children of England and Wales stealing more than their counterparts elsewhere in the developed world? It is, on the face of it, a simple empirical matter. In practice it is anything but, and the caveats that attend any honest answer to that question are not merely statistical pedantry. They go to the heart of how we understand and misunderstand the youth justice landscape.
To begin with The Youth Justice Board`s most recently published annual statistics, covering the year ending March 2025, record approximately 35,600 proven offences by children aged 10 to 17, a figure that has remained broadly static following two years of modest post-pandemic recovery. Theft and handling, which had fallen to as little as 7% of all proven offences in 2020/21, has crept back up to 14% of that total representing something in the region of 4,900 to 5,000 individual proven offences. That recent uptick merits attention. But it must be viewed against the longer arc: over the preceding decade youth theft in England and Wales fell by approximately 86%. That is not a rounding error; it could be classed as a structural transformation. On the other hand it could also be affected by the reluctance of victims to report criminal acts against them.
With regard to the situation in Europe the caveats begin in earnest. Anyone who tells you they can produce a clean, like for like comparison of youth theft rates across European jurisdictions is either badly informed or being less than candid. The obstacles to meaningful comparison are formidable. England and Wales as mentioned above sets the age of criminal responsibility at ten years old one of the lowest thresholds in the developed world. Germany, Italy and most of the Nordic countries do not criminalise children under fourteen. The French age of criminal responsibility sits at thirteen. When a fourteen year old shoplifts in Düsseldorf no conviction is recorded; the same act in Wolverhampton enters the statistics. The edifice of comparative data is built on foundations that are not remotely uniform.
Prosecution policies diverge further still. Whether a young person is cautioned, diverted or brought before a court; whether shoplifting below a certain value is treated as a criminal matter or a civil one; whether police recording practices emphasise detection or diversion; all of these variables contaminate the official figures before a single comparison is attempted. Researchers at the Max Planck Institute for the Study of Crime, Security and Law have been admirably direct on this point noting that official crime rates simply do not lead to valid international comparison owing to variations in crime definitions and prosecution policies. I suppose we should be grateful for that scholarly candour even if politicians and commentators rarely heed it.
The more reliable instrument and one that has gained significant traction in criminological circles, is the self-report survey. The International Self-Report Delinquency Study now in its fourth iteration and covering some forty countries asks young people directly about their own behaviour, bypassing the distorting lens of the criminal justice apparatus. These surveys suggest that England and Wales sits, broadly speaking, in the middle of the European pack. We are not Sweden. But nor are we Serbia. Self-reported rates of shoplifting and petty theft among British adolescents have historically been comparable to those in the Netherlands, Belgium and Germany when age groups are properly matched. The hand wringing headlines about uniquely degenerate English youth are not, on this evidence, well founded.
What is rather more striking and rather more important is what has been happening across the whole of Western Europe and North America simultaneously. The youth crime drop is one of the most significant and least publicly understood social phenomena of the past thirty years. From the mid 1990s onward youth offending of almost every kind declined dramatically in country after country: the United States, Sweden, Spain, Denmark, Finland, the Netherlands and yes, England and Wales. The proportional reductions were in many cases between 50% and 75%. Property crime, including theft, led that decline. The causes remain genuinely contested; declining unstructured socialisation between young people, reduced alcohol consumption, the growth of digital entertainment keeping children off the streets but the fact of the decline is not in dispute.
What is now also apparent is that the decline has, since approximately 2015 and more visibly since the pandemic, begun to level off. Self reported property crimes have been rising in at least five European countries. Shoplifting offences across England and Wales, for all age groups, have reached record levels. That the recent uptick in recorded youth theft in this jurisdiction is matched by similar trends elsewhere should at least prompt us to consider whether we are dealing with a locally generated problem or a shared European one. The evidence rather suggests the latter. The cost of living, the contraction of retail security investment during the pandemic years and the changing social routines of adolescents appear to be common drivers.
There is one structural feature of England and Wales that genuinely distinguishes us from most European comparators and it deserves more attention than it typically receives. The low age of criminal responsibility means that children who in Germany or Denmark would receive welfare or educational interventions are, in this jurisdiction, processed through the criminal justice system. A ten year old cautioned for shoplifting in Nottingham is a statistic; the same child in Nuremberg is a welfare case. This is not merely a question of nomenclature. It shapes the trajectory of a young life, the composition of our proven offence data and arguably the reoffending rates that subsequently haunt our statistics. Children with a theft index offence, we are told, reoffend at a rate of over 44%. One might enquire whether that reflects the criminogenic character of young thieves or the criminogenic character of early criminal justice contact itself. Several decades of research across European jurisdictions point rather firmly toward the latter.
The conclusion that honest engagement with the evidence compels is an uncomfortable one for those who prefer simple narratives. The youth of England and Wales are not uniquely delinquent. They are part of a Western pattern that rose, fell dramatically and has recently shown signs of modest reversal. The data that purport to show otherwise are built on definitional foundations too shaky to bear the weight of confident assertion. That is not a counsel of complacency. It is a demand for intellectual rigour, something which, in the discourse around youth crime, has rarely been in plentiful supply.
Tuesday, 5 May 2026
FACIAL RECOGNITION TECHNOLOGY OR PUBLIC ANONYMITY?
It was in Tokyo 1880 that the first conviction based on finger printing took place. In due course the technique spread and its development and implementation in the first years of the 20th century led to high profile convictions in UK in 1902. Around this time Scotland Yard had built massive data bases which revolutionised the conviction rates of police forces throughout the country.
Today it`s almost impossible for a week to go by without news of some controversy on the subject of police using facial recognition AI. As with the argument employed over a century ago enhanced crime solving is at the root of the argument for those charged with enforcing the law but finger printing was applied mainly to those whom police suspected were in some way connected to an offence however remotely or for the elimination of their involvement. Mass facial recognition can rapidly match suspects to CCTV footage, cold case evidence, or wanted databases cutting investigation times from weeks to hours. Socially, communities with high crime rates might welcome the tool but over time risk normalising pervasive surveillance as a permanent feature of public life. Proponents of facial recognition technology [FRT] argue the technology can flag known terrorists at airports, stadiums or large events before an attack occurs. FRT has been used to identify trafficking victims and missing children giving it a strong humanitarian framing. If this argument prevails it becomes politically toxic to oppose the technology outright forcing critics into a defensive posture. Socially it creates a permissive norm "if it saves children" that can be extended to far broader applications. The question is how far can or should the technology be extended.
There are classic arguments against the use or wider use of FRT. Perhaps the most persuasive is what effects does mass surveillance have on civil liberties. Even when accurate the knowledge that one's movements are tracked in public fundamentally alters behaviour. People might avoid protests, places of worship or political gatherings. Political success of this argument energises civil liberties coalitions across the left-right spectrum (libertarian conservatives and progressive liberals often unite here). Socially, if the argument fails, democracies quietly cross a threshold into infrastructures of control previously associated with authoritarian states with little prospect of reversal. Currently there is a lack of legal framework and accountability. In some jurisdictions police have deployed FRT with no specific legislation governing its use, data retention or oversight. In such a scenario the precedent is set that novel surveillance technologies can be adopted by executive agencies without democratic consent weakening legislative authority over policing.
There is the old adage; "Give the devil a finger and he will bite off your arm". In many cases the government is that devil. Technology introduced for serious crime quickly migrates to minor offences, immigration enforcement and political monitoring. The political repercussion of ignoring this argument is substantial: governments that promise limited use rarely deliver it and once infrastructure exists successive administrations inherit and expand it. Socially, this gradually redefines the relationship between citizen and state moving from presumption of innocence in public spaces to presumption of identifiability.
Studies have shown FRT systems have significantly higher error rates for darker-skinned faces and women, meaning black and minority communities face disproportionate risk of wrongful identification. If this argument gains political traction it can lead to legislative restrictions or outright bans (as occurred in several US cities).
Most FRT systems are built and maintained by private companies raising questions about who ultimately controls the data. Political success of this critique can lead to data sovereignty legislation and restrictions on private-sector involvement.
The core tension is fundamentally one of collective security -v- individual liberty; a perennial democratic dilemma. What makes FRT particularly consequential is its scalability: unlike a stop and search, it can surveil millions simultaneously, meaning the stakes of getting the policy wrong are unusually high in either direction. Facial recognition technology is being deployed on British streets by British police forces operating largely outside any statutory British framework. Parliament has not legislated; the courts have not settled the boundaries and the public has not consented. A technology capable of identifying every person in a public space demands primary legislation, not policy guidance. Government must decide: is anonymity in public a right, or merely a convenience it has the authority to withdraw? Do we want more or do we demand less?
Tuesday, 28 April 2026
HANDS - FREE FITTED: SO WHAT`S YOUR EXCUSE?
Friday, 24 April 2026
APPEALS FROM MAGISTRATES COURTS
Tuesday, 21 April 2026
FAST FIT FOR THE MAGISTRACY
My previous post last week was concerning the government press release on its proposal to appoint 6,000 new magistrates; a rate of recruitment never previously attempted. Since then I have paused to consider this activity and its possible repercussions.
Those who have spent more than five minutes inside a magistrates’ retiring room will recognise the familiar pattern: a problem created by years of neglect is suddenly rediscovered and the conclusion is presented as a bold new vision rather than a belated attempt to patch over the consequences of earlier decisions. It is a target dressed up as a solution.
The magistracy has been shrinking for years. Recruitment was paused in many areas, benches were merged and experienced colleagues quietly retired without replacement. The result is a system now scrambling to fill the very gaps it engineered. The MoJ’s sudden enthusiasm for replenishing the ranks is rather like a landlord who ignored a leaking roof for a decade and now wonders why the ceiling has collapsed. The answer, naturally, is a “major recruitment drive”. To understand why this matters one must first appreciate what a magistrate actually is, not in the brochure sense but in the functional one. The lay magistrate performs his/her tasks without legal qualifications, supported only by the advice of a legal adviser, the training provided under the Magistrates' National Training Initiative and whatever measure of wisdom and life experience they bring to the bench themselves.
Good judgement is rarely an accompaniment of urgency. The question that matters is whether rushing to recruit thousands of new magistrates will reduce standards. The magistracy has been chronically under recruited for the better part of two decades. Numbers have fallen from approximately 30,000 in the early 2000s to around 14,000 today. Courts have struggled with capacity; backlogs, already severe before the pandemic, became catastrophic during it and the Ministry of Justice eventually conceded that something had to be done. The decision to raise the mandatory retirement age from 70 to 75 was one response. This expansion of recruitment is another.
The uncomfortable truth is that history, structure and recent experience all suggest that the risk is not only real but familiar. One of the more persistent myths repeated in official literature is that the magistracy forms part of the “independent judiciary”. Judicial in function, yes: independent in structure: no. Since the early 2000s a series of reforms, the Auld Review, the Courts Act 2003, and the creation of HMCTS have steadily centralised control. Local Magistrates Courts Committees were abolished. Bench autonomy was curtailed. Administrative power shifted to civil servants. Listing, training, deployment and recruitment are now firmly under HMCTS management. This matters because independence is a safeguard against political pressure. When independence is diluted pressure can seep in. And pressure is exactly what a target of 6,000 new magistrates creates. Targets have a way of distorting behaviour. When the number becomes the goal the quality becomes the casualty.
There is precedent for exactly this kind of quality dilution when volume targets dominate as those with long memories of the bench will recall. The late 2000s saw another surge prompted by falling numbers. Advisory Committees reported shortened interviews, reduced panel diversity and increased reliance on paperwork. New magistrates resigned early at higher rates, often citing inadequate preparation. The Justice Committee, never known for hyperbole, warned that recruitment pressure risked “lowering the bar”. The 2016–2019 period brought a recruitment freeze followed by a sudden reopening. Advisory Committees were reduced in number but expected to process more candidates. Training capacity was stretched. Some new magistrates sat before completing all recommended training. The current drive shows early signs of the same pattern. Interview times have been reduced in some areas. More new magistrates require additional mentoring. Training capacity is stretched. Benches with three inexperienced magistrates are no longer hypothetical. None of this amounts to a crisis but it is evidence of strain and strain is where standards slip.
Court closures over the past fifteen years have dramatically reduced the number of venues available and while sitting days have been extended in some areas the simple truth is that judicial competence requires regular and meaningful sitting experience. A magistrate who sits only infrequently [minimum required is 26 half days] is a magistrate whose skills atrophy, whose confidence is limited and whose decision making is more, not less, susceptible to the kinds of errors eg inconsistency, over reliance on legal adviser direction, failure to probe the evidence that undermine the quality of justice.
So will rushing to recruit 6,000 magistrates reduce standards? The honest answer is that it could and history suggests that it has before. Those who care about the lay magistracy and about the quality of justice delivered in the magistrates court, should be asking hard questions now while there is still time for the answers to shape practice. The magistracy is one of the quiet pillars of the justice system. It deserves careful stewardship, not hurried expansion. Numbers matter but standards matter more. If the MoJ wants 6,000 new magistrates it should take the time to ensure they are the right 6,000.








