Online rumors are circulating in Downing Street ━ The European Conservatives

UK users of X, formerly Twitter, might be intrigued to see #superinjunction trending in the UK today, Tuesday 1 October. While this puts ‘Amanda Abbington’ (1,939 posts) and ‘Underground Transgender Mafia’ in the shade, the repeated mention of a curious legal tort online raises more questions than it answers.

Primarily, the prefix ‘super’ indicates that mentioning the existence of the ban may in itself constitute contempt of court (a criminal offense). Since the term was first coined – in 2006 when Trafigura obtained an injunction to block reporting on the dumping of toxic waste in Ivory Coast – critics have lamented the restrictions on the free press that these litigious maneuvers played out. As part of the order, a judge wants to prevent disclosure from the start of who initiated the legal action.

Old-fashioned injunctions typically involved a public figure’s lawyers waking a judge at night to prevent the publication of an embarrassing story in the next day’s newspapers. The order prevents journalists from mentioning the name of the litigant responsible for initiating the proceedings, as well as the content of the story.

The Neuberger Commission, set up in 2011 to investigate the impact of such measures, developed this more precise legal definition:

an interim injunction restraining a person from: (i) publishing information relating to the applicant that is said to be confidential or private; and (ii) disclosing or informing others of the existence of the order and the proceedings (the ‘super’ element of the order).

As more than one joke has put it, the first rule of a superinjunction club is that we don’t talk about a superinjunction club.

While the case ‘John Terry vs. Persons Unknown’ from 2010 is seen as a way to discredit the practice, not least amid widespread backlash on social media, there remains room for the rich and powerful to deploy such risky methods.

Which brings us to the s-word now trending on X. The formal position is that mentioning its existence could land one in criminal court (hence the warning in this article). ‘real’ journalists would already know this if they uttered the insults on Twitter. Others have concluded that social media’s flippant treatment of this latest rumored ban actually shows that it doesn’t actually exist. After all, who could rightly take the risk?

Be that as it may, the widespread public involvement in online commentary about what is supposedly happening in high places shows how controlling the flow of information (and speculation) through the legal system is far more difficult than concocting a single story in the printed media prior to the elections. publication back in the golden age of Fleet Street.

At the time of writing, depending on statistics, there are somewhere between 1,282 and 11.8 thousand messages on X using variations of ‘superinjunction’. Considering the former Twittersphere shouldn’t mention this one at all, this at least suggests the “Streisand effect” is in full swing.

Some online commentators want to use this hypothetical legal threat to question those at the top of British politics. They suggest that behind the possible order lies a story even more embarrassing than the recent spate of catastrophic communications problems during and around last month’s Labor Party conference.

While some use a combination of text and images to point to a scandal, right-wing pundits such as Isabel Oakeshott and Dan Wootton are explicitly threatening to tell a story – a story they claim is already common knowledge among Westminster correspondents. In response, pro-Labor voices are circling and trying to discredit those who claim to be aware of additional scandals that could discredit the beleaguered prime minister.

Whatever the truth of the latest rumors, sunlight remains the best disinfectant. Superinjunctions are a stain on the free press, which has no place in a democratic society.