Thank you for the opportunity to contribute to this
discussion of the role of expert evidence in legal proceedings. I do
believe that there is a great deal to be gained by this reciprocal exchange
of ideas across Europe. There are strengths and weaknesses in all our
systems and we can only improve across Europe by comparisons. Indeed,
I am happy to declare that in this view of the value of European Co-operation
I do not support the views of the present British Government. I wish
to discuss the role of expert evidence in British Courts from the view
point of my own experience in giving evidence. That experience has been
limited to areas in which new types of expertise are being introduced,
especially evidence from psychology. It may be worth emphasising, at
the start, that we have virtually invented a new discipline, which I
have called Investigative Psychology that is specifically aimed at contributing
to criminal investigations. This deals with interviewing processes,
investigative decision making and the understanding of criminal behaviour,
but because of its novelty it is still unclear as to exactly how it
will find its way into judicial processes. We are therefore engaged
in considerable debate as to what the appropriate role will be for this
new science. It is out of this debate that I draw the following considerations.
I do think the peculiarities of legal systems are most clearly revealed
when some change or development is introduced. It is at that point that
the assumptions on which the system is based are most often revealed.
I therefore think it will be helpful in understanding some of the curiosities
of the way the British legal system uses expert opinion if I focus on
my particular experiences of new forms of evidence.
But I think a little background may be helpful to
those of you who know very little about the English system of justice.
One of England's first imports from mainland Europe, at the time of
the Norman Conquest, about one thousand years ago, was a system of justice.
In this system people wishing for decisions from the King's Court could
ask for the summoning of 12 Knights to ascertain, either from their
own knowledge or on inquiry from others, the truth of the matter at
issue; the verdict of this court, if unanimous, was accepted as conclusive.
It is important to recognise that these advisors to the court were chosen
because of their knowledge of local customs and circumstances. They
were regarded as representative members of the public of their day.
This group of local citizens became the present day jury. But as long
ago as the early 15th century, the jury was established as a judge of
fact based on the evidence submitted in an action. The jury is still
the cornerstone of the English legal system. It meets in secret and
its discussions cannot be recorded or reported, only its verdict. The
Judge does not retire with the jury as in French courts. These ordinary
citizens form their own views in any way that makes sense to them. So
the expert in English law does not try to convince a learned judge,
who is used to the complexities of legal arguments and will certainly
have a very high level of education. The expert is trying to convince
the jury. A random selection of local citizens who may have left school
without any qualifications and may not even know what a psychologist,
psychiatrist, linguist or what ever, is. There are clearly many potential
difficulties with this system. But it does have one huge advantage that
I have come to respect the more involved I have become with the legal
process. The jury system is the last bulwark in the defence of democracy.
Precisely because the jury is not part of any professional or institutional
organisation and does not have any pre-determined perspective on the
issues at hand, it reduces the possibility of the authorities manipulating
justice to their own ends. It seems likely that the jury system does
lead to a bias of guilty people being allowed to walk free. But I think
that is a definition of a free society. One that is more concerned that
the innocent should not be found guilty than that the guilty should
be punished at all costs.
The second important fact about the British legal
system is its adversarial nature. I believe this draws its strengths
from the Anglo-Saxon empiricist philosophical tradition. The view that
truth will be found through the battle of minds rather than the considered
thoughts of a scholar. This means that experts are called by one side
or the other in a case. The defendant's expert will be challenged by
the prosecution's expert. There will be a battle of experts. Indeed,
all of my experience in court has been to challenge the opinion of the
other expert called by the other side. This is not the situation in
which an individual can establish his pre-eminence and by virtue of
his own accepted status give an opinion that he can expect to go unquestioned.
Any expert in an English court can expect to be involved in a battle
of wits that is fought out in front of a jury that will not understand
the different theoretical positions being taken. They will judge the
experts as they see them in the witness box. The very stature of their
expertise will be open to question by the recognition that another expert
does not agree with them.
In English courts the status of the expert is reduced
even further by the fact that he is treated as just another witness.
The only difference between the expert witness and other witnesses is
that he is allowed to offer an opinion not just to comment on facts
as he knows them. But that opinion has to be presented as if it were
the evidence of a witness, under oath, in the witness box, first questioned
as evidence in chief, then cross-examined. It is this evidence given
in open court in front of the jury that constitutes his expert opinion.
When I first started giving evidence in court this was the aspect that
most disturbed and puzzled me. I was used to presenting a lecture on
my studies, much as I am doing now, but I was not allowed to do that.
A barrister, who knew very little about my area of study asked me a
series of questions to reveal my opinion. The opposing barrister then
cross-examined me about my opinion. By means of this curious pseudo-conversation
an attempt was made to reveal the arguments that were based on a subtle
consideration of complex matters.
It is worth emphasising that although I had presented
a report to the court this was not my evidence. It was the opinion offered
in the heat of the moment in response to questions in front of the jury
that was my evidence. If I stuttered, looked uncomfortable, tried to
redefine the question in ways that suited me, if I could not remember
all the facts at that moment, if I showed any confusion about the details
of the case, if I agreed I had made an error, even if my tie was not
straight, all these matters could be considered by the jury and could
have an influence that would out weigh years of research and the highest
qualifications. You may think this is an exaggeration, but I can give
you one simple illustration. In one case where I was rebutting the opinion
of another expert I was asked in cross-examination why I had not taken
that other expert for lunch when he came to give a lecture at an international
conference I had organised. The implication was that I was leading a
vendetta against the other expert and not treating him seriously! A
further consequence of the expert being treated as any other witness
is that all the rules of evidence can be used. For example, I have been
challenged because I did not actually do every single calculation myself.
It was therefore suggested that my evidence was mere hearsay and thus
not admissible. The junior research assistant who did the calculations,
it was claimed, should have been called as the witness. In this battle
in front of a jury of people who have no specialist knowledge, skills
or training, it is not the evidence that is being assessed but the person
who is giving that evidence. Does he make a credible witness? Is he
a person whose opinion you can trust? Like any other witness his demeanor,
and apparent honesty is on trial. However, there are also protections
inherent in the expert being treated as just another witness. He is
not allowed to introduce any information that may, of itself prejudice
the jury or that may draw upon information that may itself not be admissible
as evidence. So, for example, there could be some challenge to an expert's
opinion if it were based upon a research project that was built around
interviews with criminals about how they committed their crimes. This
is a very important point and one on which English law is probably more
stringent that American law. In America FBI agents have been allowed
to give opinions on the likely guilt of an accused person because he
fits the profile they have concocted of the type of person who committed
the crime. Such FBI profiles are totally unscientific and derive from
casual conversations with convicted offenders and the experience of
investigating cases. Yet they have been tolerated in some American courts,
although all the opinions based on this FBI evidence has subsequently
been overturned on appeal. In one notorious case in England an attempt
was made to introduce similar evidence but the case was dismissed by
the judge. The risk of prejudicing the jury is also important in these
cases. The expert must not introduce information about the accused that
could, of itself, imply his guilt. For example if an expert said that
such crimes were committed by paedophiles and declared that the accused
was a known paedophile then revealing that fact could prejudice the
jury whether they accepted his expert opinion or not. Because new areas
of forensic psychological research are exploring precisely those issues
of offender consistency the risk of prejudicial opinion is very great
indeed. Removing prejudicial opinion from the courts is a very important
safeguard and one that must be protected. Indeed, this seems to me to
be one of the greatest differences in the role of experts in the anglo-saxon
system and in Eastern Europe. It seems that because the expert is acting
for the courts and indeed often for the prosecutor directly, in places
like Poland, who is also the leader of the actual investigation, that
it is acceptable, often required, that the expert offers opinions on
the general character of the accused. These opinions are thus an integral
part of the court proceedings and are used to help determine guilt,
as well as sentencing. In Britain the expert must stick to the facts
of the case. The judge may take account of psychological assessments
in reaching a decision on sentencing, but never on a verdict.
One curious, but important consequence of an expert
being treated as just another witness is that a person who has little
status in his professional circles can be regarded as a very convincing
expert witness in court, and vice versa, some one very highly regarded
by the academic community may have his opinion ignored in court. It
is for this reason that the recognition of new areas of expertise is
so problematic. Indeed, in my opinion, the courts are constantly being
challenged to accept new forms of expert evidence before the expert
community has established the validity of that evidence. As a consequence,
in some cases, quite spurious opinions have been allowed into court
that have absolutely no scientific validity. This is where the introduction
of new forms of evidence so clearly reveals the strengths, and a number
of the weaknesses of the English legal system. There are no clear guidelines
that I have been able to identify as to what defines an expert in English
law. The crucial point seems to be that the expert has access to knowledge
that it cannot be assumed the jury will have. The jury has to be allowed
to decide questions of fact for themselves. It is only if the actions
or facts require analysis or interpretation beyond the capabilities
that the jury may reasonably be expected to have that an expert is allowed.
A witness may be qualified to present himself as an expert due to his
knowledge, skill, experience, training or education. This is a very
wide range of possible foundations for expertise. In many areas of knowledge,
especially those that relate to studies of human beings, it is an open
question as to whether a professional's experience does really provide
him with a perspective that should carry more weight than that of the
lay jury. In a number of cases in which I have given evidence challenging
linguists I have told the court that a jury is possibly better qualified
to assess the credibility of a witness whose demeanour can be judged
in the witness box, than some one who has merely studied a written statement
transcribed by a third person. The problem as I see it, is that it is
for the court to decide who is acceptable as an expert witness. A person
who has spent his life counselling rape victims may be as acceptable
as an expert as somebody who has written the definitive work on rape
but has never talked to a victim in his life. Membership of appropriate
professional bodies does, of course, have an influence on the court's
judgement as to whether a person should be allowed to give evidence
as an expert. But in many areas of new scientific development there
may be lively disagreements as to what the appropriate professional
membership is. Linguistic analysis is a very interesting illustration
of these difficulties, not least because it is one area where lawyers
believe they can understand the science because they believe they are
experts in the use of words. In a number of cases in which I have been
involved linguists have claimed, for the defence, that their analysis
of a piece of text reveals that it is not the words of the accused,
as the prosecution is claiming. The linguists claim their opinion is
expert because they, after all have studied language and its structure
and therefore have can give a view on its special peculiarities that
a lay man could not be expected to know about. My challenge to this
as a psychologist is two-fold. One is that linguistics is not an experimental
science, but a description of language. As a consequence linguists do
not have the skills in evaluating the strengths of their conclusions.
They do not understand how to measure the degrees of variation in any
given person's utterances. The second point I would make is that in
order to assess the characteristics of a person's utterances it is necessary
to have some understanding of the psychological processes that give
rise to speech and of the contextual, emotional and intellectual influences
that shape what and how a person talks. Both of these areas of knowledge
are, I would claim, within the realms of psychology rather than linguistics.
You can imagine the difficulties the courts can have in disentangling
this demarcation dispute. But there is no external body they can turn
to in English law in order to establish the rights or wrongs of any
particular individual being regarded as an expert. They are very influenced,
as a consequence, by whether the person has been accepted as an expert
by any other court. This does mean that a person can slip into giving
expert evidence under one quite reasonable guise and thereafter be allowed
into many other trials in which his expertise is less valid. Of course,
within the adversarial framework an initial battle will sometimes be
fought over the acceptability of any given individual as an expert before
that court. The danger here is that any person who comes with a technology,
diagrams or statistical calculations may convince a court that he is
an expert in part because the judge and lawyers do not understand what
he is claiming to do. In their search, especially to establish innocence
and to raise a reasonable doubt, English courts are keen to ensure that
any feasible evidence be considered even though its validity has not
been widely established. This is especially true of new technologies
or discoveries. In their early stages the relevant scientific community
may also not understand fully what the expert claims to be able to do.
He may therefore have his opinions accepted without challenge. This
is particularly unsafe because the technology is likely also to impress
the jury, rather than convince them. In this way very poor science can
lead to miscarriages of justice.
Even though a person may be accepted as an expert
because of his knowledge and skills there is no guarantee that the actual
expertise on which he draws is valid. It is worth repeating that, in
effect, in an English court it is the credibility of the expert witness
that is being considered. The full history of their scientific endeavours
in the particular technology they describe cannot really be thoroughly
examined through the adversarial process. In the end, once the credibility
of an expert has been established he will be asked, "in your opinion
what do your researches indicate?". It is this opinion that is left
before the jury. The examples I have been giving have drawn upon social
science expertise, but the same occurs in an even more problematic form
when the expert comes from the arts. There opinion can only be defended
from experience. The famous trial forty years ago of the publication
of D.H. Lawrence's "Lady Chattterley's Lover" was based on having people
who were regarded as literary experts offering the opinion that the
book was art not pornography, a problem of definition that has not disappeared
to-day. In the realms of scientific expertise this reliance on the opinion
of individuals rather than reference to external arbiters makes the
courts vulnerable to enthusiastic amateurs. They are also vulnerable
to a credulous over reliance on some new development. Consequently the
natural history of the acceptance of new expertise sometimes has been
for the courts to accept new areas of expertise without any thorough
understanding of the range and limits of applicability of the new scientific
development. The scientific community then becomes aware of this abuse
of science in the courts and proceeds to do the appropriate research.
The results of this research is then used in subsequent cases to challenge
that expertise, which may lead eventually to such expertise being denied
to the courts totally, the baby being thrown out with the bathwater.
This pattern has happened with many areas of expertise. DNA typing originally
went virtually unchallenged but now is being questioned. In the English
courts polygraph assessments are not acceptable as evidence, although
briefly they were. Hypnosis, once acceptable, is now regarded with great
suspicion.
The point I would like to emphasise here is that
science and legal practice are two different realsm of discourse. They
operate against different criteria of validity. Given the importance
in British law of assuming a person is innocent until proved guilty,
and of the innocence being accepted if there is 'reasonable doubt',
it is the case that many scientific findings, published in learned journals
do not remove the possibility of reasonable doubt. Thus although these
scientific findings may be acceptable to the scientific community they
may not be strong enough for a British court. Yet with the emergence
of new forms of expertise, often the scientific debate has been conducted
in court between barristers in the form of cross-examination of experts,
instead of it being conducted between academics and thrashed out between
themselves, for a consensus to emerge that can then be drawn on in court.
In England it has sometimes been the case that the really telling debates
about new areas of evidence have been in front of juries. Experts have
staggered from the battle of the courts back to their laboratories to
conduct subsequent research ready for the next legal battle. I am not
convinced that either justice or science is assisted by this process.
If I may finally turn to the Polish context. In rapidly developing and
changing systems I can see these problems being enormously magnified.
There are differences in scientific opinion across Europe as to the
validity of many psychological techniques. These are compounded by the
differences in the legal systems. What may seem reasonable in one jurisdiction,
because of the little weight it might carry in front of magisterial
judge, could be an anathema in another jurisdiction because of the influence
it could have on a jury. Certainly, I would expect most British forensic
psychologists to be horrified to discover that the analysis of Rorschach
tests are routinely accepted by Polish courts, on behalf of the investigation,
to help determine judgements. There clearly will be increasing difficulties
in recognising the fairness and freedoms implied by different legal
systems if local courts continue to be the main arbiters of what expert
testimony is acceptable. Yet the right of the accused to have access
to any reasonable evidence that might raise doubt about his guilt also
has to be protected. In a legal system in which the expert is called
by the court, he or she clearly has much more power than when he or
she is called by the defence or the prosecution. So it is even more
important that the expert's opinion is a clearly valid one. At present
it seems to me very unlikely that the Polish courts are always obtaining
such valid opinions. These issues are the basis of heated debate in
Britain. I am sure they will become even more heated in Poland as your
legal system opens itself up to the democratic process.