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Any question concerning an authorised imposition of death must be evaluated and critiqued. Typically, one would associate such a ‘legal’ extermination with capital punishment. Yet, the fundamental immorality behind its practice has rendered it illegal in most countries. Conversely, the increasing legalisation of abortion also involves death, but this time of a potential human being. Whilst abortion and capital punishment differ entirely in reasoning, they both converge in the lawful termination of life. Both may be heavily regulated, but in the UK there is some scope for abortion and none for capital punishment. This introduces a third consideration: euthanasia, more commonly known as assisted dying. Recently, activists have brought this issue to the forefront of public debate. In the UK, administering such a procedure remains criminalised. However, the expansion in the number of countries legally permitting euthanasia has raised the question: is there scope for the UK to also legalise it? The term ‘euthanasia’ originates from the ancient Greek meaning a ‘good death.’ It is now used to describe the medical prescription of a painless termination of an individual’s life under uncoerced consent. Whilst often used interchangeably with assisted dying or assisted suicide, the distinction lies in who performs the final act: doctors administer euthanasia, whereas in assisted suicide the individual takes the prescribed drugs themselves. Historically, such practices were used to alleviate extreme suffering, often through substances like hemlock. In contemporary society, this inclination remains rooted in pain mitigation, but motivations have broadened significantly. With growing awareness of mental health and environmental pressures, individuals suffering from non-terminal conditions, such as severe depression, have begun to consider euthanasia. Alongside advancements in biotechnology that enable painless death, the potential to relieve suffering has become more accessible. Within the UK, however, this issue is both ethically and legally scrutinised. Euthanasia remains prohibited and is treated as murder or manslaughter under English common law. Yet, the notion of consent complicates this clear-cut legal stance. If an individual is willing to undergo such a procedure, should the state intervene regardless? Furthermore, doctors working with end-of-life patients are frequently confronted with prolonged suffering, which raises questions about whether such drugs could have a compassionate role, even at a minimal level. Despite its historical roots, euthanasia has acquired increasingly negative connotations. This is partly due to its association with death, but also its misuse, most notably in the Nazi programme Aktion T4. Additionally, many religious traditions view euthanasia as morally unacceptable, often in conflict with principles such as the Hippocratic Oath, which prohibits the administration of lethal drugs. Beyond religion, concerns have also been raised about the safety and efficacy of such procedures. The primary opposition, however, remains ethical. Moral principles emphasise the intrinsic value of human life. Philosophers such as Albert Camus, particularly in The Myth of Sisyphus, explore the struggle to find meaning in an indifferent universe. From this perspective, accepting euthanasia could be interpreted as surrendering to that struggle, weakening humanity’s valuation of life. Rather than hastening death, emphasis could be placed on improving palliative care, advancing medical treatments, and addressing mental health more effectively. Whilst euthanasia may appear to offer immediate relief, prioritising long-term solutions to suffering may better align with ethical ideals. There are also concerns regarding the broader impact of euthanasia. For medical professionals, regularly administering death could have significant psychological consequences. Similarly, family members may experience emotional and moral distress in witnessing such decisions. These effects contribute to the so-called ‘slippery slope’ argument, suggesting that initial acceptance could lead to wider and potentially harmful consequences. On a systemic level, the healthcare industry could also be affected. The fundamental aim of medicine is to preserve and improve life; introducing euthanasia may appear to undermine this objective. From an economic perspective, there is concern that euthanasia could become a cost-effective alternative to long-term care, potentially incentivising its use. Philosophers such as Michel Foucault further highlight concerns about power dynamics within institutions. Medicine and law rely on specialised knowledge, placing patients in a position of dependency. Legalising euthanasia could expand this authority, granting doctors significant power over life-and-death decisions, which may not always be entirely free from bias or influence. Conversely, several countries—including the Netherlands, Belgium, and Canada—have legalised euthanasia in some form, with others joining in recent years. This global shift has placed pressure on the UK to reconsider its stance. The proposed ‘Terminally Ill Adults Bill’ in 2026 attempted to introduce limited legalisation for those with less than six months to live, although it ultimately failed. Despite this, cases such as individuals travelling abroad for assisted dying demonstrate that prohibition does not eliminate the practice but rather displaces it. Furthermore, death is a deeply personal matter. Government intervention in such decisions can appear contentious, particularly when other harmful activities, such as smoking and alcohol consumption, remain legal. Whilst euthanasia may have psychological effects on others, its direct physical harm is limited to the individual. In some cases, open communication between patients, families, and medical professionals can mitigate these emotional impacts. Nonetheless, any potential legalisation would require strict safeguards. Consent must be explicit and voluntary, with rigorous assessments to ensure the absence of coercion. Mandatory reporting and oversight would be essential to prevent misuse. Additionally, only qualified physicians should administer such procedures, with consultation from multiple professionals, including mental health specialists where necessary. The UK would likely adopt a cautious approach, initially limiting eligibility to terminally ill patients. The ‘slippery slope’ argument remains a significant concern. Experiences in countries like the Netherlands suggest that criteria may gradually expand beyond initial intentions. As a result, any legalisation in the UK would likely remain highly restrictive to prevent such developments. The Middle Ground: Euthanasia remains a deeply controversial issue, shaped by technological advancement, increased focus on mental health, and evolving societal pressures. Whilst ethical and religious objections persist, the growing number of countries permitting euthanasia suggests that some scope for legalisation may exist. The UK’s prior legalisation of abortion demonstrates a willingness to legalise some avenues where death is a legitimate choice. However, any move towards legalising euthanasia would require strict safeguarding measures to prevent abuse. A cautious starting point - limited to terminally ill patients with clear consent - may offer a balanced approach, whilst ensuring that protections remain firmly in place.

National identity. Consistency. Awareness. This is the law’s objective. The government can bring this about by statutes. Alternatively, unwritten forms are utilised: the common law, customary practices and historical precedents (1). In the UK, these forms work hand in hand to endorse justice. However, critics have argued that all mandates must be written down to accomplish these objectives. Conventions have only made the law arbitrary. This assertion is evidently not a leap into the dark. Yet, for there to be any validity in this argument, the benefits must outweigh the costs.   Reliability and scholastic advancement are essential for an efficient system. This is what documented policies bring to the table. The plague of ambiguity and ignorance in public duty could be cured. An economist would be pleased with this well-informed approach. Sources of the law would be enforceable, verifiable and collaborative established (1). What this provides is supremacy within the law, which uncodified rules lacked.   This ignorance can be evidenced through the 20 th century events. Following the Reichstag Fire and the Enabling Act, Hitler dismantled the Weimar Constitution, ruling through a small elite (2). The atrocities that followed could come down to the spontaneity of the guidelines; the political prejudice and arbitrary decisions that resulted only furthered a class-oriented structure. This illustrated that customary practices and traditional norms wither away when power is exploited. Governments cannot rely on rulers pledging good faith and adhering to conventions forever. It is rendered impossible because of the opacity of uncodified rules.  Solipsistic politicians can enforce dogmatic changes effortlessly. A written rulebook may be the remedy: a return to equality, uncontaminated democracy and rules which cannot be unilaterally changed (3). Resultingly, this could provide loyalty, akin to the veneration demonstrated for the 13 th century Magna Carta and the US Constitution (4).   Continuing this trajectory, the case for a complete composition of written rules is substantiated by the case between Spitalfields and Tower Hamlets in 2024 (5). The judge (Lord Sales) used the unwritten common law to dismantle the appellant’s incongruous argument. The ease with which the opposing party missed this branch of law is of concern. The appealing party hinged onto physical, accessible enactments because the organisation was not well versed with case law. Lawyers and committees faltered because of the lack of definitive guidelines. If those educated in the law can go awry because of the lack in clarity, what can be our expectations of the public?   Unspoken rules have also had their historical critics, notably the 18 th century English philosopher, Jeremy Bentham. His desire for the codified law is reflected through his critique of the common law. He assimilates the process of Judges constructing the law based on judicial decisions to a man making laws for his dog. The common law does not tell someone what they ought not to do, but “hang him” for something which the judges believe he should not have done after the event. He called for judiciary rules to be incarnated into statutes, which provides certainty. The caricature of common law, “dog law” (6), does not account for this. This would also alleviate problems of discrepancy between cases. A formal, secure system would arise, restricting unchecked governmental power, as well as prompting state legitimacy (7).   Therefore, a complete set of written regulations seems synonymous with success, insofar as only the benefits are acknowledged. But the consequences of this change is where the merits go down the drain. Unwritten rules may not solve all these problems, but their presence is more advantageous. It must also be considered that the problem may not be the unwritten or written conventions, but politically poor decision-making (7).   It is commonly understood that physically pledging rules can elevate consistency. However, the adaptability of these rules is under pressure. The law becomes rigorous and clear-cut and difficult to tailor to changing circumstances. Each case is unique. To tailor the written law in this fashion would be impossible whilst maintaining its dependability. Certainty is important, but versatility is equally, if not more. Conversely, unwritten rules can accommodate evolving contemporary challenges (8). This is firstly evidenced through the Marriage Act of 2013 for same-sex couples. Decades passed in its implementation since the 1967 Sexual Offences Act decriminalising same-sex acts (9). Written rules did no adapt to the speed in which modern society changed. Furthermore, courts chose to expand privacy rights due to our dependence on the internet, which was absent in statutes (1). The law adapts within one case, whilst changing statutes could take months, if not years. Having this dynamic applicability could also be beneficial for the ‘separation of powers.’ In the UK, unwritten conventions and statutes separate the three branches of state (legislature, judiciary, executive). Resultingly, a close and efficient relationship stems, as seen by the Prime Minister being head of government and leader in the legislature. What this allows is for seamless operation. A completely codified network like the US cannot offer this (10).   Alongside the flexibility offered, unwritten laws are politically significant because it facilitates for the absorption of political shocks and changes in the governmental makeup of society. This would reduce disruption to society’s function,as a formal amendment is not required. Resultingly, countries with this uncodified legal network (UK, New Zealand, Israel) are the highest in perceived political freedom (11). This is advanced through the malleability of the 1972 Local Government Act (12). Whilst an overarching written act, the scope in which power can be exercised is based on the convention of efficacy. For councils, this provides them with legal authority to govern proceedings as they deem fit. Votes can be restricted. Standing orders can be created. No hard and fast rules are provided, judging based on merit. What concurred is a structured and coherent order within each community, which otherwise would have been hindered by statutes.   In some avenues, a written rulebook can also be rendered meaningless. Take the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (13). “Freedom of speech,” “freedom from fear,” “right to life” are some of the phrases pledged, all of which are generic. Its applicability is through unwritten rules and beliefs of what ‘freedom’ constitutes. To codify principles with such detail is impossible, but incoherent without it (3). Conversely, conventions and norms are now second nature and developed over time; the same impact cannot be replicated by written rules.   The overarching question still remains: who has the authority to codify law nationally? In the UK, that would be the parliament. This would place parliament above the law, bringing ambivalent suspicions. Giving absolute power has only led to corruption and furthering of agendas in the past. Critics argue that this decision could be more desirable if the public were included in the decision-making process. Even so, our views are so dichotomous that it is impossible to satisfy the consensus. Playing devil’s advocate and the Parliament find a way for the public to be included, weighing innumerable debates and opinions, is economically infeasible. To illustrate, the Tax Law Rewrite Project took 11 years and millions of pounds to administer nationally (6). This is a significant opportunity cost. Even after the implementation of such acts, perfect order cannot ensue without significant disruption.   Finally, scribing all rules does not necessarily result in awareness. Industries such as the medical, the technological, and the legal use language that is foreign. This is theorised by the 20 th - century, postmodern philosopher, Michel Foucault, in his critique of discourse (14). The ‘discourse’ utilised in law is a barrier because of the complexity of its language. Many people want to believe that a physical document of rules could aggrandise awareness, but this is not the case.  Take the ‘Defamation Act 2013.’ It uses lexemes such as “defamatory” and “publication,” holding alternative meanings within context (15). In the name of simplification, more confusion occurs. Accuracy, effectivity and applicability are lost. No marginal convenience is brought about. The Middle Ground:   In conclusion, we must acknowledge that the world is changing. Whether a country utilises a completely codified or uncodified set of principles, the primary goal must be to outline rules and responsibilities to form an ordered society (16). On one hand, the idea of a completely codified rulebook arose to solve societal problems and ameliorate democratic decisions, whilst bringing national unity. This is exemplified in the codified South African constitution acting as the voice of the people by beginning with the pronoun “we” (17). For the UK, this may be vital after the precarity and alienation caused by Brexit. There are also its conveniences: uniformity and reliability.  Along with it, though, could come the stifling of the justice system because it can become outdated and extremely rigid. This must be considered before threatening stability with a radical reformation. Amalgamating unspoken rules with a strong emphasis on concrete statutes is the cure. Whilst controversial, the copious benefits of a hybrid system, consolidation of cultural identity, consistency and awareness, eclipse the side effects. These should be the underlying principles of any system.    Bibliography: 1.        Explain Two Major Differences Between Written and Unwritten Sources of Law | Uniwriter [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 19]. Available from: https://www.uniwriter.ai/law/explain-two-major-differences-between-written-and-unwritten-sources-of-law/ 2.        The Reichstag Fire  | Holocaust Encyclopedia [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 11]. Available from: https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/the-reichstag-fire 3.        House of Commons - A new Magna Carta? - Political and Constitutional Reform [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 11]. Available from: https://publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm201415/cmselect/cmpolcon/463/46308.htm 4.        Levinson S. Loyalty to the Constitution. The Virtue of Loyalty. 2024 Feb 22;196–223. doi:10.1093/oso/9780197612644.003.0009 5.        R (on the application of The Spitalfields Historic Building Trust) (Appellant) v London Borough of Tower Hamlets and another (Respondents) - UK Supreme Court [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 12]. Available from: https://supremecourt.uk/cases/judgments/uksc-2023-0121 6.        Making the law easier for users: the role of statutes - GOV.UK [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 16]. Available from: https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/making-the-law-easier-for-users-the-role-of-statutes--2 7.        Do we need a written constitution? - Theos Think Tank - Understanding faith. Enriching society. [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 20]. Available from: https://www.theosthinktank.co.uk/comment/2019/10/24/do-we-need-a-written-constitution 8.        Jones BC. Constitutions and bills of rights: Invigorating or placating democracy? Legal Studies. 2018 Sep 1;38(3):339–59. doi:10.1017/lst.2017.26 9.        Sexual Offences Act 1967 - UK Parliament [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 19]. Available from: https://www.parliament.uk/about/living-heritage/transformingsociety/private-lives/relationships/collections1/sexual-offences-act-1967/sexual-offences-act-1967/ 10.      Separation of Powers, Parliamentary Sovereignty & the Rule of Law | BIHR [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 21]. Available from: https://www.bihr.org.uk/get-informed/legislation-explainers/separation-of-powers-parliamentary-sovereignty-the-rule-of-law 11.      Jones BC. Constitutions and bills of rights: Invigorating or placating democracy? Legal Studies. 2018 Sep 1;38(3):339–59. doi:10.1017/lst.2017.26 12.      Local Government Act 1972. 13.      Nations U. Universal Declaration of Human Rights | United Nations [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 14]. Available from: https://www.un.org/en/about-us/universal-declaration-of-human-rights 14.      Michel Foucault: Discourse [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 14]. Available from: https://criticallegalthinking.com/2017/11/17/michel-foucault-discourse/ 15.      Defamation Act 2013 [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 16]. Available from: https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/2013/26/contents 16.      The Pros and Cons of an “Unwritten” Constitution | The Lawyer Portal [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 18]. Available from: https://www.thelawyerportal.com/blog/the-pros-and-cons-of-having-an-unwritten-constitution/ 17.      The Constitution OF THE REPUBLIC OF SOUTH AFRICA CONSTITUTION OF THE REPUBLIC OF SOUTH AFRICA.

Our world once embodied Eden. Inarguably, trivial human interests have infringed on this nirvana through entertainment, hunting and luxurious products being some to name. However, these activities have detrimental impacts on animals: not only directly, like a ‘lamb to slaughter,’ but also indirectly through ozone depletion. Exploiting animals becomes a self-inflicted misery. It is unsustainable, unethical and counterproductive (1). The question which therefore persists: how far should our interest be curbed for both animals and humans to flourish? A simple conclusion is inevitably infeasible (2).   Our first stop in this turbulent journey explores the ‘Universal Declaration of Human Rights.’ The court of Canton of Basel-Stadt utilises this to suggest, “our fundamental human rights would be watered down and relativised” by granting rights to non-human primates (3). This stance was taken because necessities would otherwise be drastically depleted. Hence, this perspective would compromise Article 25 of the UDHR, “Everyone has the right to a standard of living.” Ironically, this still has not been achieved globally and would only worsen if animals were allowed to prosper as independent creatures. Alternatively, animal use in fact depletes natural resources at a faster rate through intensive farming, showcasing an unsustainable dependence. The benefit of the present becomes the cost to the future.   A similar perspective can also be taken by pioneering industries such as modern medicine. Animal testing in this field allows for the comprehension and solution of life-threatening diseases. Scientists rely on animals here because of the potential side effects that could ensue when tested on humans. Human interest, more often than not, tends to be frivolous, but this medical application is vital. Judicial processes reiterate this, suggesting that medical advancement trumps animal welfare (4). Human longevity is prioritised. What is contrarily argued is that animals are subject to torture in this industry, not having the ability to provide consent. This produces the ethical dilemma.    Taking an alternative route, plethoric justifications can be provided to advocate for animals’ interests. Nussbaum’s perspective proclaims that vertebrates feel pain subjectively and experience emotions (1). Consequently, there is little divergence between living species. Impacting one irrevocably has ramifications on the other. Exemplified through the 1930s ‘Dust Bowl’ era, intensive farming and overcultivation led to severe economic hardship, mass migration and fatality (5). Likewise, the environment degraded through topsoil erosion and pollution. Everyone regressed because human-interest outweighed animal welfare. Shifting this view of animals as “dumb-beasts,” but rather seen as living, breathing species, could be a solution which provides a sustainable and viable path forward (1).   Over time, this was realised through the ‘Animal Welfare Act’ (6). Domesticated animals under human control have the basic right of diet, suitable environment and protection. This inapplicability to non-domesticated species has been exacerbated through the cruelty of the meat industry. Meat and dairy products produced are not paramount for human survival. What is more ironic is evidence points to the increasingly detrimental impact of meat on human health (7). Arguments contrary to this have been made to suggest that animals are nurtured and well-kept by farmers. However, this is akin to comparing a human fostering their child and neglecting subsequently. This has no feasibility.   Animal welfare has also taken the spotlight following the consequence of overexploitation. Temperatures have risen by 0.11℃ per decade since the 19th century, resulting in the ice caps melting, migration of species and animal extinction (8). The Paris Agreement of 2015 reflects this conscious but ominous problem. The fear has been aggrandised by the past ramifications on humans through famine, drought and disease. All this culminates in devastation for all. Human interest infringing on animals becomes our own undoing.   This debate has been forefronted because of humans’ conflicting attitudes towards difference. However, in one way, there is an assimilation between humans and animals: both are sentient beings. Animals have an interest in the quality and quantity of life (9). As Francione puts it, “sentience is not an end in itself; it is a means to the end of staying alive.” The desire for animals to survive and withstand harrowing pain substantiates the need for their own rudimentary legal rights. After all, is it not our responsibility as evolved and developed beings to care for animals? There is a growing awareness of this argument. The case of ‘Happy the Elephant’ attempted to provide these rights (10). Despite being rejected, the 5:2 vote illustrates this mounting concern for animals to have rights where human interests are frivolous (11). Interestingly, scientists found that this elephant could recognise herself in a mirror, highlighting their growing assimilation.   Ultimately, the question that needs addressing for the conundrum to be solved is: how do we determine moral worth? Philosophers and scientists have long discussed this, proposing the similar minds theory. Judging based on a desire to live or whether one can suffer has also become a feasible means. This is central in judging how far human interest must be limited for animals to thrive.   Yet, we suffer from this “moral schizophrenia” in which animals are regarded as having value (12). Ostensibly, they are a “means to our ends” (9), epitomised through the commodification of animals. Animals have been “degraded into the class of things (13).” This is owed to the dilemma: is human life of greater concern than that of animals?   The middle ground: Richard Cupp argues, “Over time, both the courts and society might be tempted not only to view the most intelligent animals more like we now view humans […] but also to view the least intelligent humans more like we view animals now” (14). This highlighted the precarious nature of giving animals human rights, but also the innate moral desire to do so. Consequently, reflection must precede action. What could be concluded, however, is that animal use for trivial interests is akin to futile torture. One possible solution could be limiting animal liberty where humanity’s basic requirement of survival and fundamental human rights are interfered with.   Bibliography: 1.        Justice for Animals by Martha C Nussbaum review – how we became the tyrants of the animal kingdom | Science and nature books | The Guardian [Internet]. [cited 2026 Jan 12]. Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/jan/31/justice-for-animals-by-martha-c-nussbaum-review-how-we-became-the-tyrants-of-the-animal-kingdom 2.        The early history of animal rights extremism [Internet]. [cited 2026 Jan 14]. Available from: https://www.understandinganimalresearch.org.uk/regulation/animal-rights-extremism/the-early-history-of-animal-rights-extremism 3.        Switzerland will vote on giving primates “fundamental rights” similar to humans | Daily Mail Online [Internet]. [cited 2026 Jan 13]. Available from: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-10498785/Switzerland-vote-giving-primates-fundamental-rights-similar-humans.html 4.        Swiss government rejects initiative against animal testing - SWI swissinfo.ch [Internet]. [cited 2026 Jan 30]. Available from: https://www.swissinfo.ch/eng/swiss-politics/animal-experimentation-the-federal-council-rejects-a-new-abolitionist-initiative/90133441 5.        The Dust Bowl | National Drought Mitigation Center [Internet]. [cited 2026 Jan 12]. Available from: https://drought.unl.edu/dustbowl/ 6.        Animal Welfare Act 2006. 7.        Meat in your diet - NHS [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 5]. Available from: https://www.nhs.uk/live-well/eat-well/food-types/meat-nutrition/ 8.        Summary for Policymakers. Climate Change 2021 – The Physical Science Basis [Internet]. 2023 Jul 6 [cited 2026 Jan 12];3–32. Available from: https://www.cambridge.org/core/product/identifier/9781009157896%23pre2/type/book_part 9.        Francione GL, Francionef GL. Equal Consideration and the Interest of Nonhuman Animals in Continued Existence: A Response to Professor Sunstein Equal Consideration and the Interest of Nonhuman Animals in Continued Existence: A Response to Professor Sunsteint. Chicago Legal Forum [Internet]. 2006 [cited 2026 Feb 5];8(1). Available from: http://chicagounbound.uchicago.edu/uclfhttp://chicagounbound.uchicago.edu/uclf/vol2006/iss1/8 10.      Lawyers argue Happy the elephant should have right to freedom | New York | The Guardian [Internet]. [cited 2026 Jan 13]. Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/oct/22/lawyers-argue-happy-the-elephant-should-have-the-same-rights-as-humans 11.      ‘The court simply refused to extend to Happy the elephant the opportunity to prove, through her lawyers, that she deserves her freedom’ - Harvard Law School | Harvard Law School [Internet]. [cited 2026 Jan 13]. Available from: https://hls.harvard.edu/today/the-court-simply-refused-to-extend-to-happy-the-elephant-the-opportunity-to-prove-through-her-lawyers-that-she-deserves-her-freedom/ 12.      Francione GL, Francione GL. Animals--Property or Persons? Rutgers Law School (Newark) Faculty Papers [Internet]. 2004 Jan 15 [cited 2026 Feb 10]; Available from: https://law.bepress.com/rutgersnewarklwps/art21 13.      Jeremy Bentham on the suffering of non-human animals [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 6]. Available from: https://www.utilitarianism.com/jeremybentham.html 14.      Human Responsibility, Not Legal Personhood, For Nonhuman Animals [Internet]. [cited 2026 Feb 2]. Available from: https://fedsoc.org/fedsoc-review/human-responsibility-not-legal-personhood-for-nonhuman-animals

Arjun Santilale Uber BV vs Aslam serves as a landmark case for employment law in a modern economy. Decided by the UK Supreme Court in 2021, it was established that people who drove for Uber were labelled workers rather than self-contractors. This was important because workers have certain legal rights, which self-contractors don’t. Ultimately, this case serves its importance through understanding that, despite contractual labels, priority is placed on the real working relationship between a company and individuals. To understand the case, it is important to consider how Uber works. Uber provides a smartphone app that connects passengers with drivers who are willing to give them rides. Drivers use their own vehicles and can choose when to log into the app and accept trips. Because drivers appear to have choices over their working hours, Uber argued that it was only a technology platform that allowed independent drivers to find customers. According to this view, drivers were self-employed contractors running their own businesses, meaning the company was not responsible for providing employment rights. However, many drivers argued that this view did not reflect how the system really worked. Two drivers, Yaseen Aslam and James Farrar, brought a legal claim stating that they should be classified as workers, rather than self-employed contractors. Under legislation such as the Employment Rights Act 1996, workers are entitled to important rights, including the national minimum wage and paid annual leave. Aslam and Farrar argued that Uber played a pertinent role in deciding which rides were offered and so forth, meaning they weren’t truly self-employed.  The case first began in an employment tribunal in 2016, where the drivers were successful. Uber appealed the decision, but the ruling was upheld by the Employment Appeal Tribunal and later by the Court of Appeal. Eventually, the dispute reached the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom, the highest court in the UK legal system. In February 2021, the Supreme Court unanimously ruled that Uber drivers should be classified as workers under UK law. It is important to note that the court did not label the drivers as employees, which is a separate category that provides even greater legal protections, such as from unfair dismissal. Instead, the judges said that Uber drivers fall into the legal category of workers. UK employment law generally recognises three main categories of working status: employees, workers, and self-employed individuals. Employees have the most extensive legal rights, workers have a smaller but still important set of protections, and self-employed individuals have the least legal protection but greater independence. By deciding that Uber drivers were workers, the court made sure that they would receive basic employment protections without fully categorising them as employees. In reaching its decision, the Supreme Court carefully looked at the real working relationship between Uber and its drivers. Rather than focusing only on the written contract created by Uber, the judges considered how the working arrangement was actually carried out. This approach was particularly important because companies may sometimes draft contracts in ways that attempt to avoid employment responsibilities. The court identified several factors which showed Uber maintained a high level of control over drivers. First, Uber sets the fares that passengers pay, meaning drivers cannot negotiate their own prices. Second, Uber determines the terms under which rides are provided. Third, the company monitors drivers through a rating system and can remove drivers from the platform if their ratings fall below a certain level. Finally, drivers may face consequences if they reject too many trip requests. These factors showed that drivers were not running their own independent businesses but were instead working within a system largely run by Uber. Another important aspect of the ruling was the court’s interpretation of working time. The judges decided that drivers should be considered working not only when they have a passenger in their car, but also when they are logged into the app, located in their working area, and ready to accept ride requests. This being established heightened the impact of the ruling because it recognised more of the time drivers spend available for work, leading to an overall increase in wages. Although the ruling directly applied to the drivers who brought the claim, its impact quickly extended beyond them. The decision effectively created a legal precedent that influences how courts approach similar disputes involving gig-economy companies. As a result, the case has become extremely important for understanding employment law in the modern labour market. The importance of this case for the legal system today is clear. One of the key principles established by the decision is that courts must examine the reality of a working relationship rather than simply accepting how a company describes it in a contract. Businesses cannot avoid legal obligations simply by labelling individuals as self-employed if the actual working conditions show that the company exercises excessive control. This principle is particularly relevant because, as the gig economy continues to grow, many companies now rely on app-based platforms that offer flexible work but classify individuals as independent contractors. This includes delivery services such as Deliveroo. A case was brought forward under similar grounds in 2023, and this precedent was used, but to establish that people were self-employed. Deliveroo allowed much more freedom in comparison to Uber. Before this case, there was a lot of uncertainty about how employment law should apply to these modern forms of work. The decision in Uber BV v Aslam helped clarify that traditional legal rights can still apply even when work is organised through digital platforms. The case also demonstrates how the legal system can adapt to social and technological change. Employment law developed long before ride-sharing apps existed, yet the Supreme Court was able to apply existing legal principles to a completely new business model. This highlights the flexibility of the legal system and its ability to continue protecting workers as modern working practices are transforming. The middle ground: Uber BV v Aslam is a landmark case that has had a lasting impact on UK employment law. The Supreme Court ruled that Uber drivers should be classified as workers because of the level of control the company exercises over them. Although the decision technically applied to the drivers who brought the claim, it created an important precedent that continues to influence how courts approach employment disputes today. Most importantly, the case reinforced the principle that judges must look at the true nature of working relationships rather than relying solely on contractual labels. For this reason, the case remains highly significant for understanding how the legal system protects workers in the modern gig economy.

“The gap between international law and reality is greater and greater… law is supposed to achieve things in the real world.” International law is about bolstering unity, cooperation and peace. The creation of the International Criminal Court (ICC) in 1998 was intended to embody the aspiration of holding perpetrators accountable when nations fail to do so. However, international law has waned because of the increasing scrutiny after recent global conflicts such as the US-Israel military attack on Iran. As a result, critics and journalists have questioned the lacklustre and ineffective approach of international law. Instead of acting as a deterrent to the escalation of global conflicts, it has often failed to meet violations of the law with appropriate sanctions. Alternatively, it has been argued that, like all laws, international law depends on the willingness of states and organisations to uphold it in order to be impactful. Therefore, is international law rightly criticised, or has it prevented the global anarchy and chaos that might otherwise have ensued? International law is a system of legally binding rules and standards that governs relationships between countries and international organisations, outlining their responsibilities to one another. These rules are enforced through customs, agreements and treaties. Within this branch of law, the primary objectives are to limit warfare, protect civilians during conflict, and safeguard fundamental human rights at all times. However, international law has been in a precarious state in recent decades as growing global conflicts have increasingly rendered it ineffective. A recent example used to demonstrate whether international law remains impactful in modern society is the conflict between the United States, Israel and Iran. This conflict was initially launched in 2025 following concerns from the US regarding Iran’s expanding nuclear development. As a result, missiles were launched that destroyed a nuclear facility in Iran. However, in 2026, Trump declared that Iran had continued rebuilding nuclear weapons, which he claimed warranted another wave of attacks. The challenge international law faces in this conflict lies in its unintended consequences. The destruction of civilian sites such as schools, hospitals and homes has become a frequent outcome of missile strikes. Most shockingly, a girls’ school in Minab, Iran, was reportedly hit during air strikes, killing more than one hundred innocent children. This would constitute a clear violation of international law. Such incidents highlight how international law can appear increasingly redundant, as policies and rules are violated without effective enforcement. International law therefore seems unable to fulfil its purpose of discouraging conflict. Furthermore, while the United Nations may call for investigations and accountability, these processes often take years, and powerful countries frequently evade responsibility. As a result, international law can appear more theoretical than practical. Looking back to 2025, a year marked by major developments in space exploration, medicine and artificial intelligence was also overshadowed by tragic events. One such incident was the attack in Kashmir, where terrorists killed 26 innocent civilians. Pakistan was immediately blamed, leading to air strikes and threats to cut off 75% of Pakistan’s water supply. Fundamentally, this would violate principles of equity in international law as well as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. While Pakistan could theoretically bring the matter before international courts or the United Nations, many argue that decisions would be unlikely to be effectively enforced due to weak punishments. Historically, international law has relied heavily on good faith and cooperation between states, which may ultimately be its Achilles’ heel. Recognition of legal violations is no longer consistently met with justice, leaving innocent civilians caught in the crossfire of geopolitical conflicts. As previously mentioned, international law is largely based on agreements and treaties. In theory, countries should respect these laws on moral grounds, but in reality cooperation cannot be enforced if treaties have not been signed. Institutions that uphold this legal order have also weakened in recent years, partly due to Donald Trump’s decision to withdraw the United States from several international agreements, including the Paris Climate Agreement and the United Nations Human Rights Council. Not only is the United States not a party to the jurisdiction of the ICC in The Hague, but it has also imposed sanctions on the court itself for alleged misconduct. This demonstrates the significant global influence of the United States. As a result, the ICC has faced financial and political obstacles that have further contributed to the weakening of international law. Trump’s temporary takeover of Venezuela, threats to occupy Canada, and the recent conflict with Iran illustrate how difficult it is for the ICC to prevent or punish powerful states involved in global conflicts. Some critics argue that rather than protecting global peace, international law has allowed powerful states to justify deviant or aggressive behaviour. Another issue weakening international law is the limited resources available to the ICC. With an annual budget of roughly €200 million, the court has struggled to investigate and prosecute many international crimes. In fact, since its establishment, the ICC has secured only 11 convictions. Its lack of enforcement power is further illustrated by the arrest warrant issued for the Russian president, Vladimir Putin. Despite the warrant, the likelihood of a formal trial remains extremely low. The ICC was created through the Rome Statute in 1998, which many countries, including the United Kingdom, have incorporated into their national legislation. However, major global powers such as the United States, China and Syria have refused to ratify the statute, limiting the court’s authority. The United States has also actively attempted to undermine the ICC’s power. For example, in 2002 it passed the American Service-Members’ Protection Act, often referred to as the “Hague Invasion Act,” which authorises the president to use all necessary means to prevent the ICC from prosecuting American officials. This situation highlights a point captured by one international lawyer: “the minute the court shows that it has teeth might be the end of the court.” Furthermore, international law provides conventions, norms and rules intended to guide the behaviour of states. However, rather than preventing large-scale destruction and conflict, some critics argue that these frameworks allow countries to justify their actions by adjusting the language used to describe them. In this sense, international law can provide a “vocabulary” through which states justify violence while claiming legal legitimacy. For example, in conflicts involving Hamas and Israel, actions have sometimes been framed as efforts to uphold or defend international law, even when they contribute to further conflict. Yet the question remains: is this criticism entirely justified? What practical system could perform better than international law has done? Countries and governments are immensely powerful actors, and courts ultimately rely on cooperation and enforcement from states themselves. Any legal system can fail if political power overrides morality and ethics. In this sense, it may not be international law that is failing, but rather the political environment in which it operates. International institutions have continued to recognise injustices, for example by issuing arrest warrants or by acknowledging allegations of genocide in conflicts such as those in Gaza Strip. The deeper problem may lie in the selective application of international law by states, which often apply legal principles only when it serves their own interests. The Middle Ground: Ultimately, international law can be seen as a belief system as much as a legal framework, requiring widespread commitment in order to function effectively. Some critics question whether it has become merely a “collection of words.” However, if humanity manages to overcome the current wave of conflicts, including tensions with Iran, international law may need to be reconsidered and strengthened rather than abandoned. All legal systems depend on good faith and cooperation. If states refuse to respect them, no legal framework can succeed. Therefore, the problem may lie less in the system itself and more in the willingness of states to uphold it. Major global crises - from conflicts in Gaza to tensions with Iran - may ultimately remind us why such laws exist. In the end, any legal system reflects the state of the world that created it. The survival of international law will therefore depend not only on institutions, but also on the cooperation and commitment of nations themselves.

Should juvenile offenders be tried as adults when they commit heinous crimes? At the heart of this debate lies the tension between justice, rehabilitation and moral responsibility. Many countries, including the UK and the United States, maintain a clear distinction between juvenile and adult courts. Historically, this separation has been driven by the belief that those under the age of eighteen lack cognitive maturity. They may not fully comprehend the consequences of their actions, and therefore deserve a system focused primarily on rehabilitation rather than punishment. However, this distinction becomes deeply contested when the crime committed is one of extreme violence, such as murder or battery. Regardless of the offender’s age, a life lost represents the destruction of human connection, love, and future potential. If the harm inflicted is the same, should accountability differ drastically based on age? Furthermore, who determines that individuals under eighteen are inherently more capable of rehabilitation than those just beyond this legal threshold? If society maintains that all humans possess the capacity for change, then age alone appears as an arbitrary basis for differentiated justice. Historically, particularly in the UK and the US, juvenile justice systems emerged in response to concerns that children were being over-policed and over-criminalised. The creation of separate juvenile courts aimed to “treat” rather than merely punish young offenders, prioritising rehabilitation to foster a more cohesive future society. There was also a strong concern for the safety of children, as exposure to hardened adult criminals was believed to increase the likelihood of further offending. Yet even within this framework, exceptions have existed. In cases of especially heinous crimes, juveniles have occasionally been tried in adult courts and subjected to lengthy sentences. This raises a crucial question: Does this approach better serve justice, or does it undermine the foundational principles of juvenile justice? By the late twentieth century, youth crime appeared to take on a more brutal and remorseless character. Cultural representations such as A Clockwork Orange , alongside real-world cases like the murder of James Bulger, shocked the global public conscience. Crimes committed by children were increasingly perceived as senseless, merciless, and devoid of empathy. This moral panic spread internationally, prompting governments to abandon rehabilitative ideals in favour of harsher punitive measures. Many US states lowered the age at which juveniles could be tried as adults, and in some cases, children were sentenced to life imprisonment. The impact of these policies was significant: following a peak in youth crime rates, a sharp decline occurred after these measures were implemented. From a deterrence perspective, trying juveniles as adults appeared to offer a restoration of public safety, albeit at the cost of humane principles. Yet this shift raises a deeper philosophical question: why does violence among children occur at all?  The eighteenth-century philosopher John Locke proposed the concept of tabula rasa , suggesting that individuals are born innocent and shaped by their environment. From this empiricist perspective, youth violence reflects societal failure rather than inherent moral corruption. Factors such as parental neglect, social isolation, poverty, and most importantly, the influence of social media, play a substantial role in pushing young people over the edge toward crime. If society itself contributes to shaping violent behaviour, should the legal system not respond with greater understanding and a stronger commitment to rehabilitation? Viewing children as individuals with future potential implies that justice should be applied circumstantially, with genuine belief in their capacity to change. However, historical evidence complicates this optimism. In the James Bulger case, Jon Venables and Robert Thompson were released after eight years on the basis of their youth and the rehabilitative aims of the juvenile system. Yet Venables later reoffended and returned to prison for possessing and sexually abusing material towards children. This outcome, alongside many similar cases, exposes the fragility of the assumption that those of a young age can be successfully rehabilitated. It also raises the question of who truly benefits from such leniency. Certainly, the parents of James Bulger do not believe justice was served. The middle ground The jury is still out on this conundrum. The issue of whether juveniles should be tried as adults for heinous crimes resists a simple conclusion. Multiple social, psychological, and environmental factors contribute to youth violence, and these must be addressed if long-term prevention is to be achieved rather than a sole belief in rehabilitation. Nevertheless, it remains essential to acknowledge that a human life is irrevocably lost or degraded due to the actions of individuals, regardless of age. While separating juvenile and adult courts may serve a broader societal purpose, punishment must still reflect the severity of the crime. Reduced sentences for children may be appropriate, but this must not occur at the cost of trivialising the atrocity committed. There is, perhaps, no punishment that can truly equate to the loss of a life, but it is clear that eight years for the murder of a baby cannot be morally or socially justified. Courts must take into account the difficulty in improving individuals who have been involved in crime from a young age. As a result, for the benefit of society, crimes must be judged accordingly and not softly.

Is violence quintessential in protests? Is there any precedent involving violence in protest movements? Are systems themselves the main perpetrators of this violence? Just a note before, I am not advocating violence, but exploring potential reasons behind protestors tendency to resort to violence. Protests occur because of disagreement or disapproval with a particular idea, policy, or action. To express this opposition, many protesters resort to some form of violence to get their message across. Force is often seen as a natural response to dispute. Historically, this has frequently been the case. The suffragette movement in the early twentieth century, the civil rights movement in America against racial segregation, and the French Revolution in the eighteenth century are all pertinent examples that highlight humanity’s tendency to resort to violence. Is this instinctive within human nature? Is force not so much easier than passive protest? One reason many protesters advocate violence is a feeling of insignificance. Gargantuan monopolies and institutions hold vast political and economic power, making it difficult for small unions or minority groups to compete. Think about when you're at school. Do we not get the feeling of insignificance to teachers and the educational system, despite outnumbering them? Violence becomes a tool that both attracts attention and allows the minority to exert influence. Is this not, for some, the very purpose of protest? Furthermore, protests often concern grand narratives such as environmental protection or opposition to war, as seen in the anti–Vietnam War protests. If a small minority uses violence to reduce violence on a much larger scale, could this be considered a legitimate justification? Despite limited legal grounds supporting violence in protest, some cases have alluded to narrow circumstances in which force may arise. ‘ R (Ziegler) v DPP’  primarily concerned peaceful protest, yet judicial reasoning touched upon the boundaries of unlawful conduct. In exceptional situations, violence may occur lawfully, such as in self-defence against unlawful police force. While most protest-related violence remains illegal, there is limited space within the law where force may be acknowledged rather than outright dismissed. Is peace the solution? However, most people would agree that violence is not the desirable approach. Violence is widely viewed as immoral and socially taboo, yet this alone is often insufficient to deter it. Instead, legal authority plays a central role. An array of legislations have been introduced to restrict the use of violence, including the Public Order Act 1986, the Human Rights Act 1998, and the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act 2005. While these statutes collectively discourage violent behaviour, arguably the most influential instrument is the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Articles 19 and 20 of the Declaration state that “everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression” and “the right to peaceful assembly and association.” This universal framework strongly opposes the use of violence in protest. When violence occurs, fundamental rights may be lost and innocent civilians often suffer the consequences. While violence may sometimes appear effective, is it ethically and morally defensible? Mahatma Gandhi provides a powerful counterargument: can peaceful protest genuinely challenge authority and achieve meaningful results? Gandhi’s ideology centred on non-violence combined with deliberate civil disruption. By encouraging millions to openly defy British colonial laws, he undermined the legitimacy of British rule in India. This approach paved the way for future peaceful movements that achieved significant change while minimising loss of life. More recently, figures such as Greta Thunberg in Sweden demonstrate how non-violent protest can mobilise global attention and influence policy. How effective her protest was that she gained global attention at only 15. Peaceful protest can also expose corruption or unlawful conduct by governments and institutions. When the state responds with force while protesters remain peaceful, protesters gain moral authority and public sympathy. This aligns closely with the protections offered by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, particularly freedom of expression and assembly. By avoiding punishment and maintaining moral legitimacy, peaceful protest arguably maximises both ethical standing and impact. Is this not the ideal form of protest? The Middle Ground As demonstrated, force is often the type of protest that generates the greatest immediate attention. Conversely, peaceful protest also carries significant advantages; while sometimes perceived as less effective, it raises awareness while limiting harm to human life. On this basis, non-violent protest may appear to be the preferable option. But what if there is a more balanced solution? Two potential middle-ground approaches emerge: conditional non-violence  and disruption without harm . Conditional non-violence  proposes that peaceful protest should always be the starting point, with escalation only occurring after all peaceful avenues have been exhausted and failed to produce change. This approach acknowledges the moral and legal strengths of non-violence while recognising historical instances where force followed prolonged inaction. Violence is not celebrated or deemed morally right; rather, it is framed as a reluctant response to systemic failure. In matters of significant public interest—such as opposition to war or challenging harmful industries—could limited force be justified to protect the wider population? This approach raises serious ethical dilemmas but may offer a pragmatic explanation for escalation. This issue is highly relevant to our generation because many protests begin at the student level. A key example is the Vietnam War, when university students in Ohio organised anti-war protests against U.S. involvement during the 1960s. This led to the ‘Kent State shooting’, in which police unlawfully opened fire on students, resulting in several college students being killed and others injured. In such circumstances, the question arises: is violence ever appropriate? As discussed above, student protest plays a crucial role in society, which is precisely why this debate is so important. Alternatively, disruption without harm  advocates forceful protest that avoids violence against individuals. Methods such as mass civil disobedience, road blockages, and property damage have historically been employed. This approach blends elements of peace and force, though it leans closer to the latter. However, unintended consequences may arise. For example, protests aimed at protecting animal rights may inadvertently harm animals themselves, going against the cause of the protest. Nevertheless, all forms of protest present challenges, whether violent or peaceful. Ultimately, these middle-ground approaches attempt to reconcile moral restraint with political effectiveness. Arguably, the most effective solution would be ethical and accountable conduct by powerful institutions themselves. While this may appear idealistic, it highlights a deeper issue: meaningful reform is still required—within law, rights, and systems alike.

Order. Without legislation, chaos would ensue. It is undeniable that legislation and statutes are fundamental to the functioning of society, but can they be improved? As outlined by multiple provisions in the law, statutes exist to improve society. But do elected MPs, the Prime Minister, and the Monarch fully understand what is socially perfect for society? Should public opinion be involved in this decision-making process? This article delves precisely into these questions. The Magistrates’ Court, the Crown Court, and the Supreme Court are all designed to operate independently of public opinion in order to remain neutral and unbiased. This separation exists primarily to uphold fairness and justice. Like many judicial processes, judges strive to remain consistent in their interpretation and application of the law. However, if emotion and public opinion were to infiltrate judicial decision-making, outcomes could become highly variable. Judges might rule against a defendant in one case and dismiss a similar case in another. This lack of certainty would undermine the very foundation of judicial reasoning, which is why the judiciary divorces itself from public judgements. Because law has a national impact, a single inconsistent decision can have severe unintended repercussions. This is the fundamental reason why law must maintain consistency. Is justice better when it is consistent or variable? Undeniably, consistency is preferable. Furthermore, if statutes were influenced by fluctuating public value judgements, this could spiral into widespread corruption - precisely what the law seeks to prevent. Continuing with the idea of corruption and value judgement, Winston Churchill stated that there was “no such thing as public opinion.” Expanding on this perspective, Churchill suggests that public opinion is filtered and often manufactured. What we perceive as free will may in fact be shaped by political narratives and societal issues that have persisted throughout our lives. His view raises the question: is there ever such a thing as public opinion free from political influence? From this perspective, incorporating public opinion directly into policy and statutes would be a grave mistake. In contrast, Abraham Lincoln, famously claimed that “public opinion in this country is everything.” This opposing view touches upon the fundamental building block of any democratic state: the public. If the law exists to serve the public, and politics exists to represent the public, then why should the public not influence how statutes govern society? (1) Historical evidence suggests that public opinion does have the power to influence policy and decision-making. During World War II, President Roosevelt was initially reluctant to commit to anti-German war efforts, particularly due to the lingering effects of the Great Depression. However, through increasing public pressure, boycotts, demonstrations, and ultimately the bombing of Pearl Harbour, the American president aligned himself with public sentiment. While this example concerns policy rather than statutes, it demonstrates the potential for public opinion to shape national direction and could support the argument for incorporating public opinion into overarching statutes when it benefits society. However, research suggests that public opinion is constantly changing, shaped by the circumstances of each decade. Public opinion in the 1940s would be strikingly different from that of today. If statutes fail to change proportionally, can they still maintain order rationally? This argument can be viewed from both perspectives. On one hand, statutes and provisions are regularly updated to reflect new social developments. For example, proposals such as the under-16 social media ban backed by the House of Lords show Parliament responding to modern social concerns that were irrelevant centuries ago. On the other hand, it can be argued that the pace of legislative change does not match the rapid transformation of the modern world. International law, for instance, appears increasingly ineffective in the face of global conflicts such as the Russia–Ukraine war and the Israel–Gaza conflict. These laws aim to curb conflict and maintain order, yet their enforcement remains limited. This raises the question of whether incorporating public opinion could accelerate necessary change. The Middle Ground As this discussion draws to a close, it becomes clear that the contrast between past and present is central to this debate. During the Brexit process in 2019/2020, Theresa May famously stated that “the public have had enough.” The UK’s withdrawal from the European Union was driven largely by public opinion and resulted in significant changes to statutes, trade relationships, and national politics. This moment illustrates the growing influence of public opinion on MPs, who possess the authority to amend statutes. However, fifty to one hundred years ago, the relationship between Parliament and the public was far weaker. Parliamentary proceedings were largely inaccessible, and decisions were made with minimal transparency, epitomised by the absence of cameras in Parliament. This dynamic has shifted significantly in the twenty-first century due to increased public engagement and accountability. (2) As discussed, there are clear limitations to public opinion influencing statutes: minority voices may be overshadowed, and the risk of corruption increases, undermining the core principles of law—fairness and consistency. However, a balanced approach may offer a solution. Rather than excluding public opinion entirely, MPs and councillors should acknowledge public judgement while remaining open-minded and selective in its application. This approach would allow for well-informed decision-making while preserving legal integrity. After all, law can only function effectively when the public adheres to it. Has your opinion now changed?   1.        Public opinion can play a positive role in policy making | Public Leaders Network | The Guardian [Internet]. [cited 2026 Jan 23]. Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/public-leaders-network/2012/sep/03/public-opinion-influence-policy 2.        How can the public effect real change in Parliament? | The British Academy [Internet]. [cited 2026 Jan 23]. Available from: https://www.thebritishacademy.ac.uk/blog/summer-showcase-2019-public-effect-change-parliament/

The monster article: "Intelligence without emotion?" The world we are living in is ever-changing; continuous developments and innovations are shaping the modern world, with the paramount discovery being in ‘Artificial Intelligence.’ It is a problem solver. The legal profession is not exempt from its impact. Many would believe that it would be a disadvantage not to implement AI in a firm. But is this really so? The use of AI can open many possibilities: not only would it improve the access to justice, but also can bring in a greater clientele by increasing the efficiency of work. After all, time is what the firm is selling. Whilst on one level this could benefit both clients and the firm, it could result in job displacement, vulnerabilities in data protection and ethical risks, all which carries immense costs. Therefore, a firm looking to implement AI within their infrastructure would need to weigh up both the pros and cons, deciding how best to utilise AI in the short and long term.  Income: A legal firm is a business. Like any business, income is what allows the firm to function - from paying wages and training future lawyers to hiring offices to run the firm. Therefore, the clients and cash flow the firms bring is of utmost importance. A firm’s vast earnings come from the number of hours that are billed. How could the introduction of AI influence this flow of income? The increase of efficiency AI provides by saving a significant amount of time would reduce the number of hours lawyers and paralegals can bill. Since the traditional method was to bill clients using the ‘hourly rate,’ which allowed for flexibility and transparency, the use of AI would make this extremely uneconomical for firms. Clients would benefit extremely by paying less for a task that can be completed at a faster rate through AI than if the task was worked on by a lawyer. On top of this, the cost for the firm to implement AI in their work is substantial, ranging from ‘$5,000 to $500,000’. This would suggest AI may disadvantage firms in both the short and long term. However, impending changes the firms are implementing would reverse these inconveniences. Restructuring the firm’s charging model to a ‘fixed fee’ model would result in AI improving the firm. This would mean that the firm has a guaranteed bill, meaning that the amount of time and resources spent on the case would not impact the income coming in. This would result in firms putting more money in AI to improve their efficiency, expediting tasks to handle a greater number of clients and increasing their income. However, many would argue that firms' quality of work and productivity would reduce, prioritising speed over quality. But this argument is rendered meaningless due to the profits the firm makes through client retention. Studies show that client retention by 5% can increase profitability by ‘25% to 95%’ because of the lower cost in retaining clients than acquiring others. Therefore, firms will also prioritise quality and results, making AI a tool that not only improves speed of these outcomes for the firm, but also benefits the client immensely in the work provided for them. Whilst this may be theoretical, the use of AI to benefit both the client and the firm can be seen in a real-life case study. This involved the UK ‘Serious Fraud Office (SFO)’ investigating the famous ‘Rolls Royce’ for large-scale international bribery in 2017. This case involved the reviewing of 30 million + documents, which would have been impossible in time and cost if done manually for the SFO. Therefore, SFO worked in partnership with the AI company - ‘RAVN’ - to process these documents. This processed around 600,000 documents daily, cutting 80% of the workload in review. Ultimately, due to the inconsistency in which the company’s AI discovered, ‘Rolls Royce’ settled for £671 million, which would not have been possible without this AI tool. These staggering figures reflect the power of AI and the benefits were immense. Not only did this bring justice, it helped the SFO to secure future government funding and public trust, as well as the AI company gaining international recognition. This boosted credibility and influence across the entire legal field. Therefore, despite this case being in the public sector, this case reflects that AI can have significant benefits for all parties involved financially as well in seeking justice. But this case did not show that AI only has benefits. It highlighted that it could increase the number of unemployed lawyers. When the SFO partnered with the AI company, many barristers were offloaded because of how effective the AI was. Whilst the firm may benefit from the profit, employees may be disadvantaged. Not only the job insecurity, but it will create unequal access; those most comfortable with technology will benefit. However, this can also be balanced with the new career paths it opens as well as using the skills of workers to the greatest use. Despite there being ethical concerns of discrimination in terms of skills, it could also be balanced with the new skills it can offer to present and future employees.  Data Protection: Like most ideas and innovations, benefits always come with problems. Whilst AI allows firms to process and review ‘2000 times’ (5) faster than human lawyers, the problems that arise are because of the type of data that is being handled with. Much of the information on these documents are extremely sensitive and a liability. It is an obligation for any lawyer to maintain confidentiality with clients' information. When AI is used to process this information, they become a third-party, which weakens confidentiality. However, poor handling of this information can have immense repercussions - if the AI breaches privacy, under the UK GDPR and Data Protection Act (2018), firms can face huge fines, can face negligence claims as well as trust. This can reduce the number of clients retained, which can have huge losses for the firm. Furthermore, the greater firms push towards using AI, it opens the firm to vulnerabilities against cyber attacks. This problem has already arisen in the past concerning ‘Orrick, Herrington & Sutcliffe LLP (USA).’ In April 2024, this law firm had to make an $8 million settlement over data breach affecting 600,000 individuals due to a malicious attack. Not only these costs, but extra costs are made through the implementation of cybersecurity and staff training. All this would suggest AI can have disastrous outcomes for any law firm. So is it worth this risk? Use of AI in international law: International law (the ‘law of nations’) is the ‘set of rules, principles and agreement that governs how countries interact with one another. The main purpose of international law is to maintain peace, protect human rights and advocate security. These rules come from treaties e.g the Paris agreement, judicial decisions and unwritten rules that act in good faith. Therefore, the introduction of AI within this sector of law would have global implications. AI can assist in drafting international agreements as well as predicting outcomes of cross-boarder disputes - all which could improve how effective the law is globally. However problems can occur within the International Humanitarian Law (IHL). These laws are used to regulate human behaviour, but if an autonomous weapon is used (which could cause mass destruction), who is at fault? The programmer, the state? These problems of ‘accountability’ are blurred with the use of AI, however, many still believe human oversight is still fundamental in tackling this problem. Furthermore, AI systems are being increasingly used in border control and surveillance, for example the AI biometric recognition software installed in Heathrow. However, under international human right laws, there are legal obligations to maintain privacy and to prevent discrimination, which is difficult when AI makes biased decisions. However, the ‘Council of Europe’s 2024 AI convention’ passed a binding treaty that forced governments to ensure AI operates within the rule of law in terms of human rights. The demand for transparency means that AI can be used fairly and still greatly impact international law enforcement. This is explored further through organisations such as the United Nations (UN) and G7 for a shared responsibility of AI to ensure fairness during regulation but also encourage innovation within the use of AI internationally. In the future, AI can be used to arrive at agreements much more quickly than treaties and enforce much more effectively, however, this must not be at the expense of global stability and human rights. Human vs AI: The debate between the skills of humanity and the skills of artificial intelligence continue as AI enters the legal field. AI comes with many benefits for firms during cases: analysing thousands of documents to find inconsistencies and loop holes to be exploited. It could also offer equality in punishments and remove bias upon decision making. But can these machines ever truly understand justice when it is all about emotion and empathy? Especially during family and criminal law, logic and reason are not the only determining factors in the case. Rather empathy, genuine emotion and moral nuances in the case play a significant role - which AI can easily miss, but not by human lawyers, juries and judges. This is extremely evident in the Re G children [2006] UKHL case (names omitted for privacy protection). This case involved the splitting of a same-sex couple and the question of who cares for the children. Lower courts ruled that the biologically-linked mother should hold custody. But the case was re-opened in the House of Lords, in which the judge looked at the emotional reality of the case rather than biological facts. The judge stressed that the decision must be for the welfare of the children, ruling for shared-custody. This decision would be illogical for AI to compute, which would suggest the need for humanity in the field of law. AI can only achieve justice to an extent. Rather, human lawyers are still needed to achieve justice when AI misses. The future in law: By weighing all the pros and cons AI brings to the legal industry, making a right decision is extremely difficult. Looking through any perspective, whether it is the lawyer, firm, client - the introduction of AI carries immense risks, but can also reap rewards. A solution to this problem could be to mediate halfway - implement AI slowly, allowing for current and future lawyers to adapt, aiding to reduce discrimination  as well as reduce reliance on AI. With universities and firms already providing technological education, future lawyers will be able to use their empathy as well as technological knowledge to best support their clients and firm. Therefore, there will not be a competition between the human and the AI - rather there will be a relationship which will benefit all.