Protection of Freedoms Bill

Baroness Hamwee Excerpts

Tuesday 8th November 2011 Lords Chamber

[Baroness Hamwee]

My Lords, the Minister’s careful exposition of the Bill has been most helpful. I welcome the Bill with enthusiasm—such enthusiasm that I look forward to successor Bills taking civil liberties even further forward. It is a pleasure to be repealing legislation, particularly restrictive legislation, even if it takes 200 pages to do so. I do not regard this as a standard criminal justice Bill of the sort that we have become used to in recent years. I depart from the noble Baroness, Lady Royall, on that, but no doubt we will discuss it. However, I would also say that repeal should be a matter for Parliament, not for Ministers.

In our complex society technology seems to be matched by the technicalities of legislation, but the underlying concepts are simple: fundamental human freedoms, historic civil liberties and a state which has become authoritarian—certainly too authoritarian. We have all become accustomed to the demand, “Your ID, please”; we are too used to having to prove who we are. I heard—I think it was on the radio a few days ago—of an 80 year-old who was refused a purchase in an off-licence because she could not prove that she was not a teenager.

The worst thing is not knowing what is known about you. This is about the relationship between the consumer and Tesco—which is almost nil in my case, but one could say any other retailer—or between an IT user and a search engine operator, or, of course, between the citizen and the state. The obtaining and retention of information changes the relationship between citizens and the state.

I am not applying this comparison wholesale or in its entirety; however, thinking about today’s debate, one characteristic of fascist regimes seems to have been an obsessive collection and retention of information. There was certainly one regime of which that was characteristic, anyway; I am not sure whether the Italians were too chaotic to have been able to achieve it.

We talk a lot about policing by consent, and I have been wondering what that means in the year 2011. We should also ask ourselves what is the extent of consent of the citizen to observation, surveillance, the keeping of records and the sharing and use of information. That is not easy because what I may think should be applied to you and to everyone generally—that means everyone else—is not the same as what I think should be applied to me. Ask anyone who has been involved in local government: we all know of the demands for blanket CCTV coverage in order to catch the owners of dogs that foul the streets.

The existence of more than 4 million surveillance cameras makes me wonder whether their very proliferation reduces their deterrent value because they are so commonplace. They are not uniformly applied. There are three times as many automatic number-plate recognition cameras in two predominantly Muslim suburbs of Birmingham as there are in the city centre.

We have more mobile phones than we have people. We rely on them. We have a very high expectation of technology. I have a friend who, in her worst moments of tussling with her computer, calls it “the devil’s work”.

I remember the shock when people realised what information about their movements in London was stored on the Oyster card—so-called, we were told at the time of its introduction, because of the pearl inside the oyster. It is not just a single pearl; it is a whole jewellery box, if that is your view of it.

Our private lives are trespassed upon without our realising it. It is important, and I wish that I had thought of this, to draw the distinction between the right to privacy and respect for privacy. We should remember, too, that there are social pressures to share information. Your own inclusion of information on a social networking site can make you quite vulnerable.

Guidelines and codes of practice can be only as good as their operators. We saw what happened with Section 44 stops and searches. No doubt we will use the words “balance” and “proportionality” a great deal in our debates. We will range from the administrative convenience of using biometric information about children in schools and, I would say, the inevitable pressure on parents to consent to their use, to how appropriately—another good word, but sometimes a weasel word—to protect the rights of landowners from those who see a space and park on it.

At this stage of the Bill I am trying to look at broad principles, not least because a speech on the detail would take me far too long. Another principle is the law of unintended consequences, and the noble Baroness, Lady Royall, has referred to the impact of the extension of freedom of information to university research. I mention it specifically because my noble friend Lady Brinton, who cannot be here today, had wanted to do so. The problem is that even if a subject is still being investigated, is not yet patented, published or peer-reviewed or is part of a commercial and confidential contract with a partner outside the institution, it will still be caught. The Scots, under the guidance of my noble and learned friend Lord Wallace of Tankerness, when he was part of the Scottish Government—ahead of the rest of us, as so often—got this sorted, and so should we.

So we are looking at balance, proportionality and a good dollop of common sense, but the safeguards must not be illusory. I welcome the involvement of the judiciary in many of the matters covered by the Bill. We may have debates about what is appropriate as an executive decision and what should be a judicial decision, but we may need to explore the criteria for decisions that we require our magistrates and our more senior judges to take. I am not talking just about the exercise of powers of entry but, for instance, about the extension of the retention of DNA. What will be the basis for the judicial decision? For instance, what would be the standard of proof for something that was not actually a trial?

I have referred to safeguards and codes of practice. If there is more than a single regime, as there is with CCTV, we will need a lot of clarity and co-ordination between the regimes.

I do not know what the collective noun is for commissioners but we certainly need clarity and joining up about the respective responsibilities of existing and proposed commissioners, looking at it not least from the point of view of the public and trying to avoid confusion in the public mind. Let us also be sure that the independence of commissioners is real, not rhetorical.

I will try to restrain myself from seeking to add to the Bill, not least because I see this as the start of a process of a strand of legislation, but I will indulge myself by mentioning just one issue on which I have heard the current Information Commissioner talk: the need for a more effective response to blagging—that is, the unlawful accessing of personal information by trickery. If a private investigator blags information he can treat it as a business expense, so, far from there being a deterrent penalty, the taxpayer is actually subsidising the activity.

The Bill will be referred to as a Christmas tree Bill and it remains to be seen what baubles will be hung on it. I suspect that the Minister will be very cautious about getting out a piece of mistletoe and—I am searching for a verb—connecting with anyone.

The line of argument with which we are all familiar is, “If you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve nothing to fear”. I have nothing to hide—at any rate, nothing more than the usual embarrassments that we all have—but I fear the invasion of your Lordships’ privacy. This is about the sort of society that we want and how far, if at all, we should condition our rights. I welcome the Bill.