On 9 March, Oxford Law Society and Oxford Speaks hosted a talk with Lord Neuberger, the former President of the UK Supreme Court and Non-Permanent Judge of the Hong Kong Court of Final Appeal. He reflected on the rule of law and its vulnerabilities, the evolving constitutional role of the Supreme Court, and the art and burden of writing legal judgments.
The Rule of Law Under Scrutiny
Lord Neuberger began by focusing on the everyday fragility of the rule of law. It is easy, he suggested, to speak of this as a grand principle — something inscribed in textbooks and invoked in speeches — but it is harder to sustain it in practice.
For Neuberger, the rule of law is not merely a slogan or a constitutional ornament. It demands that the law is accessible, that citizens know what their rights are, and that courts are meaningfully available to enforce them. A country, he implied, cannot call itself fully civilised if people cannot realistically vindicate their rights.
The greatest threat to this ideal, he argued, is not a sudden constitutional rupture, but slow financial erosion. Cuts to legal aid and cuts to resources have strained the criminal, public, and family courts. Legal representation, he insisted, is not a luxury. When litigants appear without lawyers, judges must spend time explaining procedure and principles, stretching hearings and increasing systemic pressure. What may seem cost-saving could, in practice, create greater delay and expense elsewhere.
There was something sobering in this diagnosis. Neuberger highlighted that the rule of law, often imagined as a shield against tyranny, can also be weakened by administrative fatigue, insufficient funding, procedural backlog, and the quiet narrowing of access.
Neuberger contrasted this domestic strain with the relative resilience of international commercial law and private international law. He highlighted that London remains a global centre for dispute resolution, not because its system is flawless, but because international commerce depends upon rule-based frameworks. Contracts, trade, and investment require predictable enforcement. Ultimately, he believes that the global economy, in this sense, rests on legal trust.
When he turned to broader international law, his tone was pragmatic rather than idealistic. He suggested that suing powerful states is unrealistic, but abandoning rules-based international norms altogether would be worse. In his view, legal structure prevents political conflict spilling into economic instability, particularly in trade and commercial disputes. Imperfect international law, he warned, is preferable to none at all.
The Supreme Court in the 21st Century
Turning to constitutional law, Lord Neuberger reflected on how profoundly the judiciary’s role has evolved. In nineteenth-century accounts of the English constitution, he noted, judges barely featured. They were present, certainly, but peripheral — operating quietly in the background of parliamentary sovereignty.
Today, that quietness has vanished.
Courts are now central to constitutional controversy. Judicial decisions are dissected in headlines, debated in Parliament, and discussed in living rooms. The judiciary, once institutionally reserved, has become a visible constitutional actor.
Yet, visibility, Neuberger cautioned, must not slide into dominance. Judicial power, even when exercised in defence of constitutional principles, must remain restrained. Appointments to the bench must avoid politicisation. Once judicial selection becomes openly partisan, he warned, trust in the judiciary risks being eroded. He pointed to the United States’ system, where Supreme Court nominations are overtly political battlegrounds, as a cautionary example.
His discussion of the Brexit litigation brought this tension into sharper focus. In the Miller cases, the Supreme Court confronted fundamental constitutional questions. Could the executive trigger Article 50 without parliamentary authorisation? And later, was the prorogation of Parliament lawful? In both instances, the Court ruled in favour of Parliament’s authority. Nevertheless, sections of the press accused the judiciary of acting undemocratically.
Neuberger rejected that criticism outright. In his view, the idea that defending parliamentary sovereignty could be anti-democratic was incoherent. The Court had not usurped political power; it had reaffirmed Parliament’s constitutional role.
For Neuberger, this was a reminder that constitutional disputes often hinge less on outcomes than on institutional boundaries.
He emphasised repeatedly that parliamentary supremacy remains the bedrock of the UK’s constitution. Courts may interpret statutes creatively, they may clarify ambiguities and apply constitutional principles, but they cannot override Parliament. He stressed that this limit is not a weakness of the judiciary; it is a feature of constitutional balance.
For those in the audience who were aware that Lord Neuberger also sits as a Non-Permanent Judge of Hong Kong’s Court of Final Appeal, these reflections resonated beyond Westminster. The question of judicial restraint, of courts navigating politically charged terrain while preserving legitimacy, is not unique to the United Kingdom. It crosses jurisdictions that share the common law tradition.
Neuberger also traced the growth of judicial prominence to broader historical shifts. Since the Second World War, citizens have become more aware of their rights and more willing to challenge governmental authority. The Human Rights Act 1998 further encouraged litigation against the state, embedding rights discourse within domestic courts. Judicial power has expanded, but this is partly because society has demanded accountability.
Still, he insisted expansion does not mean supremacy. Courts must remain conscious of their limits. The authority of the judiciary depends not on force, but on restraint: knowing when to intervene and when to defer.
Constitutional power, he argued, is best exercised quietly, even when it stands in the public spotlight.
The Art of Judgment
While Neuberger’s earlier reflections concerned institutions, the final part of the evening turned inward — looking at the interior discipline of judging itself.
The essence of judging, he suggested, lies in openness. A judge must listen, truly listen, to counsel. It is easy, he admitted, to form an instinctive view the moment an argument is made. Some submissions sound immediately persuasive, others strike the ear as implausible. However, the discipline of judging requires resisting first impressions.
Sometimes, he reflected, it is only when drafting the judgment that a judge realises the earlier inclination was wrong. The act of writing slowly, deliberately, and responsibly can expose weaknesses that oral argument disguises. In that moment, the law is not a performance but a reconsideration.
He was strikingly candid about subconscious influence. Evaluating witnesses, he acknowledged, is rarely mechanical. A judge may believe they are assessing credibility objectively, but personal memory intrudes. He recalled noticing that a witness’s manner reminded him of his late father — and becoming aware, almost mid-hearing, that this association might incline him to trust the witness more readily. It was a reminder that even the most disciplined legal reasoning cannot wholly detach itself from human experience.
He also spoke with characteristic frankness about the growing length of judicial decisions. Judgments, he suggested, have become far too long. Appellate courts often produce multiple concurring opinions that restate similar reasoning in slightly different words. Clarity, he implied, does not necessarily increase with page count. Precision and concision are virtues too easily sacrificed.
On changing the common law, he encouraged judicial caution rather than ambition. In Stack v Dowden, judicial positions shifted repeatedly during deliberations. The hesitation reflected anxiety about altering doctrine too radically without parliamentary intervention. Courts, Neuberger suggested, must tread carefully when reshaping common law principles. Though, when Parliament remains silent for years on a pressing issue, courts may eventually feel compelled to act — secure in the knowledge that Parliament retains the power to legislate in response.
The topic of Artificial intelligence emerged during audience questions. Neuberger did not dismiss it outright. In small-value disputes, he suggested, low-cost but imperfect AI-driven adjudication may be preferable to no justice at all, as access to justice is a practical concern. Regardless, he stressed that such systems must be empirically tested. Reliability cannot be assumed, in his view.
He also defended the jury system as one of the legal system’s most democratic features. Even as jury trials have declined, especially in civil contexts, their value lies in involving ordinary citizens in the administration of justice. Law, he reminded the room, should not become the exclusive domain of lawyers.
Across these reflections, one idea recurred: common sense matters. Law is not chemistry. It is not reducible to formulas or fixed reactions. It is language, interpretation, and responsibility. It requires reasoning, but also judgment in the fullest sense of the word.
As both a former President of the UK Supreme Court and a Non-Permanent Judge of Hong Kong’s Court of Final Appeal, Neuberger is a figure who moves between two jurisdictions bound by the same common law inheritance, yet shaped by very different constitutional climates. Neuberger’s reflections on open-mindedness, restraint, and institutional limits reinforced the broader themes of the evening. His discussion of the craft of judging illustrated how legal reasoning operates not only through doctrine but through careful listening, reconsideration, and awareness of human fallibility. In emphasising concision, caution in developing the common law, and the continued importance of juries, he presented the judiciary as both powerful and constrained within the constitutional framework.
Before leaving, Neuberger spoke with the Hong Kong students in the room, joking that perhaps he would see them “in court one day.” The remark drew laughter, but it also carried a note of continuity, reminding the attendees that the common law links jurisdictions across continents, and that legal conversations which students have had in Oxford may one day unfold in Hong Kong’s highest court.