"Without [the journalist], how is the public to be informed of how justice is being administered in our courts?"
When Lord Justice Watkins posed that quandary twenty-five years ago, he probably did not imagine that, by 2012, there would be a direct answer to what was then a rhetorical question. Last week's announcement that the government plans to legislate to allow cameras into court heralds the start of what is likely to be a complete shift in the nature of court reporting in England and Wales.
Under the proposal, filming will be restricted to a judge's summing up and sentencing. That has countered concerns - for now - that the presence of cameras might debase the trial process and lead to defendants, witnesses and even barristers, playing to the TV production gallery. However, critics of the move predict that it will be the first step on the road to fully-televised trials - and, given the lobbying of the broadcasters to secure just this concession, it appears reasonable to assume that they will one day be demanding more.
Whatever the potential consequences of inviting cameras into court (and these shouldn't be glibly dismissed), it is interesting that those in favour of the move have sought to suggest that we are poorly served by the current arrangements. There seems to be a bizarre assumption that, without cameras, courts may as well be sitting in camera - that only filmed justice can truly represent open justice. A greater threat to that principle is probably the dwindling number of local press reporters able to attend court on a regular basis.
In spite of
their enforced simplicity, broadcast court reports, as they stand
currently, can make for remarkably compelling viewing. It is a
challenge to convey the presentation of the evidence, the
cross-examinations and the atmosphere surrounding the proceedings
without creating a dense, unwatchable piece of television. Yet the
best broadcasters have managed this feat for generations, making an art
out of the process. Just last year, Jon Clements's
reports for ITV News of the Stephen Lawrence murder trial were
comprehensive, while remaining comprehensible and uncluttered.
Then
there is the need to find pictures (any pictures) over which to tell
the story. The traditional court sketches - impressive as they are given the time constraints in producing them - can
now be supplemented by high-end graphics, which model the inside of a
courtroom, giving a more polished feel to a package.
Indeed, of
all the footage of trials from the United States that we have seen over
this side of the Atlantic, I can recall only one - the prosecution
barrister in the Louise Woodwood trial
mimicking how she had allegedly shaken baby Matthew Eappan to death -
that was more powerful seen first-hand than if it had it been described.
Of course, any decision to allow cameras into court should not be
made upon the relative aesthetic merits of broadcast news reports. Neither, however, should it be based on the flawed premise that if we don't witness the proceedings for ourselves, we can't fully know or understand what happens in a courtroom. Odd as it may seem in an on-demand world, we do not necessarily need to see everything first hand in order to be informed. That's why we have reporters - the clue is in the name.
