The British justice system has long been a pillar of British society, embodying values of equality, democracy, and fairness rooted in the Magna Carta.
‘No free man shall be seized, imprisoned, dispossessed, outlawed, exiled or ruined in any way, nor in any way proceeded against, except by the lawful judgement of his peers and the law of the land’- Magna Carta, 1215
The British justice system has long been a pillar of British society, embodying values of equality, democracy, and fairness rooted in the Magna Carta. The jury system extends this legacy by prioritising the opinions of ‘the people’ to keep state power in check. Yet more than 800 years on, questions arise as to whether these principles have become outdated. In an era of mounting global crises, where the usefulness of democratic processes are increasingly scrutinised, is there still space for trial by jury, or must efficiency take precedence? David Lammy’s proposal suggests the latter, that democratic processes must be limited to ensure ‘swift and fair’ courts. His decision to limit jury trials for shorter sentences has sparked controversy, bringing into question whether justice should continue to honour tradition, or adapt to modern demands.
Lammy’s appeal for system reform has emerged in response to an increasingly unmanageable caseload in Britain’s justice system. The BBC reports that there are as many as 78,000 cases waiting to be heard in the crown courts of Wales and England, with government projections suggesting this could rise to 100,000 by 2028. By removing jury trials for offences such as financial crime and fraud— which require greater technical knowledge and carry lower sentences— the government argues that cases can be processed a fifth faster than under the current system.
This would be significant given the human cost to the backlog. Citizens trapped in backlogs, particularly rape victims, are far more likely to withdraw their cases, unable to endure an increasingly traumatic legal process. Lammy’s proposal is therefore not only about efficiency, but how this efficiency can ensure that perpetrators of serious crimes, such as violent offences and rape, are held accountable.
But has the government missed the mark? While backlogs undoubtedly have social consequences, critics assert the government has misdiagnosed the problem. The Institute for Government (IFG) estimates that the proposed reforms would save less than 2% of time in crown courts. Although less serious cases would be diverted to the Magistrate’s Court, their relatively low complexity means that they would not have taken long to resolve even within the Crown Court. Instead, legal scholars point to sustained cost-cutting measures within the Ministry of Justice following the Covid pandemic, which has left courts overcrowded and understaffed.
For many, the reforms represent not only a misguided action, but the erosion of a fundamental right that has been operating for centuries. The Liberal Democrats have argued reforms should focus on investment in rehabilitation programs and greater use of unused public courtrooms. Even within Labour, the issue has proven divisive: 39 backbenchers have written to Starmer urging a reversal of the reforms, while Labour MP Karl Turner voted in favour on the opposition day motion against them.
Yet critics of jury reform may be accused of clinging to tradition. After all, many countries have abolished or restricted trial by jury. France, Italy, and Germany rely on panels of professional judges rather than lay jurors, while countries such as India, Singapore, and Malaysia have abandoned jury trials amid concerns of bias. However, the success of these systems elsewhere cannot alone justify their adoption in the UK, particularly given the rationale behind Lammy’s reforms. The issue for Labour is not whether juries are more ethical or competent than judges, but whether they are sufficiently efficient.
Furthermore, jury trials play a crucial role in fostering trust for minorities within the justice system. Their purpose lies in uniting ‘the people’ with the ‘law of the land’ to reach a verdict. Restricting this participation— by deeming certain citizens as ‘unqualified’ or limiting access based on sentence length— risks creating a slippery slope that undermines democratic institutions and the legitimacy of justice systems.
Under the justification of efficiency, Lammy’s reforms risk limiting the fairness that trials are meant to guarantee. While efficiency is framed as a means to justice, these reforms instead pit speed and rights against each other, implying that fighting backlogs requires less democratic participation. Instead of asking whether we should choose rights over efficiency, democracy over productivity, or tradition over modernity, a more pressing question emerges: why should we accept these binary choices at all? Why does reform demand exclusion, instead of striving for inclusive solutions that strengthen justice for everyone? Government reforms in the justice system should not be forced to choose between efficiency and democracy— they should be capable of delivering both.