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Rights, Rhetoric and Reality: An Overview of Rights Protection in Australia
MATTHEW GROVES, JANINA BOUGHEY AND DAN MEAGHER
In his description of the arrival of the first Europeans to Australia, the famed art critic and some-time historian Robert Hughes recounted many natural features that astounded European eyes, such as trees that shed their bark instead of their leaves.1 The natural environment of Australia, and perhaps more than a few of its people, remain an object of curiosity to the rest of the world but one in particular provides an apt metaphor for this book. That is the platypus. When the first specimens of this shy and still largely unknown mammal were sent to Britain, they were widely suspected to be a hoax. How else could such a strange creature be explained? It had the webbed feet of a duck, the soft fur of a young bear, the tail of a beaver and the bill of an exotic bird. The female laid eggs. The male had a venomous spur. The platypus was eventually accepted to be genuine,2 but the fact of its existence makes it no less odd. The same might be said of the legal framework for the protection of rights in Australia.
Australia has become an outlier in the common law world because it lacks a national bill or charter of rights, either within its written constitution or as a freestanding instrument. The Australian Constitution does expressly protect a handful of ârightsâ; but they are an odd mix, are very limited, and are often couched as limits on Commonwealth power rather than personal or individual rights. For instance, section 117 protects the right to equal treatment between residents of different states,3 and section 51(xxxi) provides that the Commonwealth Parliamentâs power to compulsorily acquire property is limited by a requirement that it provide compensation âon just termsâ.4 Section 80 provides people charged upon indictment with a right to trial by jury in the state where the offence was allegedly committed but this can easily be circumvented.5
The very absence of things often makes them the subject of intense speculation. Rights within the Australian context are no exception. While he was Solicitor-General of Australia, now Justice Gageler of the High Court of Australia noted that, despite the apparent silence of the Constitution, the âplace of human rights in the structure of our nationâs institutions has been debated from the very beginningâ since its inception as a federal nation.6 That reference to a âplaceâ points to a longstanding reality about rights in Australia. Much of the debate about rights in Australia has long proceeded on the assumption that they deserve a place in Australian law â the difficult question is where. The answer of this book might appear to be the somewhat unsatisfactory one of âall over the place but nowhere in particular.â Yet the more subtle conclusion suggested by this book is that the absence of a comprehensive, single bill or scheme of rights within the Australian Constitution or legislation is not the end of the story but only its beginning.
The lack of detailed rights within the Australian Constitution has provided the impetus for a multi-layered conception of rights. One is implication. In the absence of express constitutional rights, the High Court has identified a limited collection of what some refer to as ârightsâ within Australiaâs Constitution.7 Properly understood, these implied rights are not really ârightsâ at all, but limits on the powers of legislatures and governments which are necessary to protect the structure of government established by the Constitution. For example, the implied ârightâ to freedom of political communication is not a right belonging to individuals, but a limit on the power of Australian legislatures to enact laws which undermine the ability of voters to communicate freely about political matters â a freedom which is necessary in order to protect the system of representative democracy and responsible government that the Constitution establishes.
The other main source of rights is statutory. What is not done directly by the Constitution can largely be done by parliaments. The many statutory rights examined in different chapters of this book suggest that statutes have become the preferred vehicle for the recognition and protection of rights in Australia.8 Within Australiaâs federal structure, three jurisdictions have enacted statutory charters of rights. These are each modelled upon on the equivalent instruments of New Zealand, Canada and the UK but each also contains their own modest variations.9 The influence of those foreign instruments upon Australian charters of rights draws attention to a modern variation of the common law methodology that has long been central to Australian law. That methodology is traditionally conceived as a judicial one, in which courts may consider similar principles from similar common law jurisdictions in the development of legal principle. The charters of rights adopted within Australia reflect a statutory equivalent of that process. They are inspired by and draw heavily from similar instruments that exist in similar common law jurisdictions. These statutes also draw attention to a central theme of this book â constitutional restriction can often give rise to statutory innovation.
I.The Constitutional Context â Exceptionalist but also Unexceptional
The aim of this book is to provide a holistic account, as far as is possible, of the novel patchwork of statutes, institutions and discrete bodies of law that comprise Australiaâs scheme of rights protection. That approach proceeds on the assumption that the Australian system is somewhat unique, but that characteristic can easily become distracting for Australians. When Professor Taggart analysed the exceptionalism of Australian public law, he cautioned that the Australian Constitution should not continue to be regarded as a âconversation stopperâ that was offered as an answer to virtually every question about the past, present and future of Australian public law.10 He decried the routine and reflexive references to constitutional principles such as the relatively strict Australian conception of the separation of powers as âtoo simplistic.â The reason, he explained, was that:
Like so much Australian constitutional talk it is actually grounded in a more universal common law constitutionalism, which owes much to the writings of A V Dicey.11
Taggartâs insightful observation was that many of the doctrinal limitations attributed to the Australian Constitution may in fact be more explicable by reference to the influence of the ideas of Dicey upon the development of the Constitution, and to Australian public law more broadly. The absence of express rights in the Australian Constitution is a clear example of that influence and perhaps no surprise. At the time Australiaâs Constitution was drafted and enacted, nations within the Commonwealth were approaching what nowadays might be termed âpeak Diceyâ.12 One consequence of the influence of Dicey was that the Australian Constitution eschewed the American model, which identified and protected individual rights, and was instead âbuilt upon confidence in a system of parliamentary Government with ministerial responsibility.â13 There are three foundational concepts within the system of government created by the Australian Constitution â federalism, the separation of powers and representative government.14 The obvious omission is rights. The Australian Constitution contains no unifying theory or vision about rights. The Diceyan explanation for this omission was given by Dawson J, in a case where his Honour dissented against the recognition (or perhaps creation) of the implied freedom of political communication. His Honour explained:
Those responsible for the drafting of the Constitution saw constitutional guarantees of freedoms as exhibiting a distrust of the democratic process. They preferred to place their trust in Parliament to preserve the nature of our society and regarded as undemocratic guarantees which fettered its powers. Their model in this respect was not the United States Constitution, but the British Parliament, the supremacy of which was by then settled constitutional doctrine.15
This argument has a long political pedigree that is now often forgotten. It was present at the nationâs founding when the framers deleted a number of rights provisions which formed part of the 1891 original draft of the Australian Constitution. They did so due to their deep (Diceyian) scepticism about formal rights guarantees. And in the late 1960âs when much of western society was experiencing a renaissance of rights and activism, the nationâs longest serving Prime Minister, Sir Robert Menzies, explained how the talk of modern ânonsenseâ such as rights was wisely avoided by the drafters of the Australian Constitution because they had realised:
⌠to define rights is to limit them â for in the long run words must be given some meaning â or to express them so broadly that the discipline which is inherent in all government and ordered society becomes impossible.16
As with most later references to the wisdom and intention of the authors of the Australian Constitution, these remarks may reveal much more about their own author than the those of the Constitution. The importance of Menziesâ remarks and the attitude they embody lies in the strong influence they have exerted over conservative political culture in subsequent decades. Talk about rights in Australia has long assumed a largely partisan political posture. Just as the advancement of rights has become an important part of progressive politics, resistance to rights, whether by their judicial recognition, legislative creation or treaty ratification, has long been equally important to conservative politics.
That same focus has informed two key elements of the modern Australian resistance to any kind of national bill or charter of rights. One is a belief that parliaments are the âproper institutions under our system to decide what rights should be further developed or qualified by competing interests.â17 From a theoretical perspective, this argument echoes Dworkinâs distinction between courts and parliaments in which he saw the former as the place for arguments about matters of principle, while the latter was the place for more utilitarian matters such as policy.18 One consequence of this scheme was the concern that ârightsâ might override the community interests as determined by parliaments, hence Dworkinâs longstanding concern that rights as applied in the courts might âtrumpâ those interests recognised by parliaments. In many common law jurisdictions, Dworkinâs thesis is essentially rejected by arguments that parliaments can, and often do, carefully weigh different interests in pursuit of a common good.19 A variation of this argument underpins the persistent Australian refusal to adopt a bill or charter of rights at the federal level. Opponents of such a step implicitly claim that this refusal is a considered, sensible decision of the Parliament rather than the product of political inertia. There is no better modern example in Australia of that inertia than the struggle for marriage equality that is traced by Gabrielle Appl...