14 May 2021

Surfers

'Can Surfers Have Traditional Knowledge Intellectual Property?' by Todd Berry and Charles Lawson in (2021) 8(2) Griffith Journal of Law & Human Dignity comments 

 Various international agreements address traditional knowledge (TK), Indigenous Peoples and local communities. A distinction exists between the traditional knowledge of Indigenous Peoples and the traditional knowledge of local communities. The World Intellectual Property Organisation’s (WIPO) Intergovernmental Committee on Intellectual Property and Genetic Resources, Traditional Knowledge and Folklore (IGC) is negotiating a text in anticipation of a Diplomatic Conference to agree on binding obligations about TK distinguishing between the TK of Indigenous Peoples and local communities. This article reports on a pilot study assessing the TK of the surfing community of the Gold Coast, Australia in the context of a local community’s TK. Through semi-structured interviews of surfers and non-surfers the following hypotheses were tested: (1) that surfers exist as a local community; and (2) as a local community, surfers have special forms of knowledge and practices particular to their local community that might be characterised as TK. The results of this pilot study show that surfers are a local community and that they do have special forms of knowledge and practices that might be characterised as TK. If this is the intended reach of WIPO’s new form of intellectual property, then this will extend well into the economies of developed countries.

12 May 2021

Privacy

'Comparing Constitutional Privacy and Data Protection Rights within the EU' by David Erdos comments 

Although both data protection and the right to privacy (or respect for private life) are recognised within the EU Charter, they are otherwise generally seen as having very different constitutional histories. The right of privacy is often seen as traditional and data protection as novel. Based on a comprehensive analysis of rights within EU State constitutions, it is found that this distinction is overdrawn. Only five current EU States recognised a constitutional right to privacy prior to 1990, although approximately three quarters and also the European Convention do so today. Subsidiary constitutional rights related to the home and correspondence but not honour and/or reputation are more long-standing and this helps link the core of privacy to the protection of intimacy. Constitutional rights to data protection emerged roughly contemporaneously and were often linked to a general right to privacy but are still only found in around half of EU States. There is also no clear consensus on specific guarantees, although around half of the States which recognise these do include rights to transparency and a slightly lower number right to rectification. This could suggest that data subject empowerment over a wide range of connected information is an important emerging particularity tied to data protection as a constitutional guarantee.

'Outsourcing Privacy' by Ari Ezra Waldman in (2021) 96 Notre Dame Law Review comments 

An underappreciated part of the narrative of privacy managerialism—and the focus of this Essay—is the information industry’s increasing tendency to outsource privacy compliance responsibilities to technology vendors. In the last three years alone, the International Association of Privacy Professionals has identified more than 250 companies in the privacy technology vendor market. These companies market their products as tools to help companies comply with new privacy laws like the General Data Protection Regulation, with consent orders from the Federal Trade Commission, and with other privacy rules from around the world. They do so by building compliance templates, pre-completed assessment forms, and monitoring consents, among many other things. As such, many of these companies are doing far more than helping companies identify the data they have or answer data access requests; many of them are instantiating their own definitions and interpretations of complex privacy laws into the technologies they create and doing so only with managerial values in mind. This undermines privacy law in four ways: it creates asymmetry between large technology companies and their smaller competitors, it makes privacy law underinclusive by limiting it to those requirements that can be written into code, it erodes expertise by outsourcing human work to artificial intelligence and automated systems, and it creates a “black box” that undermines accountability.

Citizenship

'A Doctrinal and Feminist Analysis of the Constitutionality of the Australian Citizenship Revocation Laws' by Matilda Gillis in (2020) 41(2) Adelaide Law Review 449 comments 

This article examines the Australian Citizenship Amendment (Allegiance to Australia) Act 2015 (Cth) (the ‘2015 Amendment Act’) and the Australian Citizenship Amendment (Citizenship Cessation Act) 2020 (Cth) (the ‘2020 Amendment Act’) (together, the ‘Citizenship Revocation Laws’). These Amendment Acts significantly extended the ways in which the Commonwealth government could deprive dual citizens of their Australian citizenship. This article argues that a classic doctrinal analysis of the Citizenship Revocation Laws does not give a clear answer as to their constitutionality. Rather, it results in two plausible but opposite outcomes. This article contends that this leaves space for other interpretive pathways and accordingly argues that a feminist approach could provide some useful guidance on the questions of constitutionality under consideration here. This feminist analysis suggests both that the 2015 Amendment Act and 2020 Amendment Act should be considered unconstitutional and, more generally, that Australian citizenship is inviolable.

Gillis argues

On 3 December 2015, the Commonwealth government passed the Australian Citizenship Amendment (Allegiance to Australia) Act 2015 (Cth) (the ‘2015 Amendment Act’) which amended the Australian Citizenship Act 2007 (Cth) (the ‘Citizenship Act’) and vastly extended the ways in which dual citizens could lose their Australian citizenship. In so doing, the government framed citizenship as a ‘responsibility’ not a ‘right’, and defined the concept of ‘allegiance’ narrowly. On 17 September 2020, the Australian Citizenship Amendment (Citizenship Cessation) Act 2020 (the ‘2020 Amendment Act’) was enacted, which replaced the ‘operation of law’ revocation of citizenship model in the 2015 Amendment Act with a citizenship deprivation model based on ministerial discretion. The 2015 amendments were passed with the support of both sides of Parliament, and with supporting polls from the Australian public, while the 2020 amendments received little public attention in the first place. Questions, however, still remain as to the limits on the Commonwealth government’s power to remove Australian citizenship. 

This article examines what those limits, if there are any, might be. It first sets out the legal and normative conceptions of Australian citizenship and the effect of the Citizenship Revocation Laws on those conceptions. It then undertakes a doctrinal analysis of the constitutionality of those laws and demonstrates that a traditional constitutional analysis, drawing upon principles of statutory interpretation and legal precedent, does not provide adequate guidance in determining the Commonwealth government’s power to withdraw citizenship. A comprehensive review of, and justification for, the application of a feminist approach is not possible here. Instead, this article in turn puts forward the suggestion that a conceptual and historically-based feminist analysis of the issue, drawing on different and diverse branches of feminism, can help both to clarify the nature and existence of constitutional limits and provisionally support a conclusion that Australian citizenship is inviolable. If this conclusion is correct, then citizenship becomes an inappropriate target for government to manipulate in formulating the nation’s strategic and legislative plans. 

There is an argument increasingly made that many areas of law can appropriately be subjected to a feminist method and critique, while remaining both ‘authentic’ and ‘legally plausible’, within mainstream thinking. The matter of citizenship deprivation has not yet been considered from a feminist perspective, despite such laws being increasingly commonplace around the world, and despite feminism’s traditional concern with and critique of citizenship matters. This article attempts to rectify this.

09 May 2021

Ink and Cultural Appropriation

'Whitmill v Warner Bros. and the Visibility of Cultural Appropriation Claims in Copyright Law' by Marie Hadley in (2020) 42(4) European Intellectual Property Review 23-229 comments 

The Māori-inspired tattoo at the heart of the copyright infringement case of Whitmill v Warner Bros. has attracted allegations of cultural appropriation in Aotearoa/New Zealand. An examination of the Māori cultural appropriation claim that surrounds the tattoo and its invisibility throughout the Whitmill v Warner Bros. legal proceedings, shows how the legal system does not receive Indigenous cultural claims over the cultural imagery and arts styles that inspires outsider imagery as an intellectual property interest.

Hadley's 'Historical Contingency of Cultural Appropriation: Government Order No. 7 (1831) and the Trade in Mokamokai' in (2021) 8(1) Law & History explores 

the historical contingency of cultural appropriation. A close study of the trade in preserved tattooed Māori heads (‘mokamokai’) and the law that regulated the trade between Aotearoa New Zealand and New South Wales – Government Order no. 7 (1831) – is used to reflect upon the nature of intercultural consumption. The conditions under which the retail trade in mokamokai developed and thrived are considered. It is argued that the historical demand for mokamokai is characterised by an oppressive appreciation of cultural difference, and the trade’s supply by Māori revealing of local agency and political acumen. Studying the production, consumption, and regulation of culture in a specific historical site offers insight into the intersection of commercial imperatives, problematic social dynamics, and local practices, furthering understanding of cultural appropriation as a form of unauthorised cultural engagement.

Succession in Europe and New Zealand

'The EU succession regulation: achievements, ambiguities, and challenges for the future' by Maksymilian Pazdan and Maciej Zachariasiewicz in (2021) 17 Journal of Private International Law comments 

The quest for uniformity in the private international law relating to succession has a long history. It is only with the adoption of the EU Succession Regulation that a major success was achieved in this field. Although the Regulation should receive a largely positive appraisal, it also suffers from certain drawbacks that will require a careful approach by courts and other authorities as to the practical application of the Regulation. The authors address selected difficulties that arise under its provisions and make suggestions for future review and reform. The article starts with the central notion of habitual residence and discusses the possibility of having a dual habitual residence. It then moves to discuss choice of law and recommends to broaden further party autonomy in the area of succession law. Some more specific issues are also addressed, including legacies by vindication, the relationship between the law applicable to succession, the role of the legis rei sitae and the law applicable to the registries of property, estates without a claimant, the special rules imposing restrictions concerning or affecting succession in respect of certain assets, as well as the exclusion of trusts. Some proposals for clarifications are made in that regard.

The authors argue

The objective of the present article is to discuss some of the provisions and solutions adopted in the EU Succession Regulation. It does not intend to be a comprehensive commentary on the Regulation. Rather, it takes the Regulation’s state of play and purports to address some of the difficult issues, as identified in the scholarly discussions or already experienced in the legal practice. The article focuses on issues of applicable law, dealing with other questions (jurisdiction, certificates of succession) to a lesser extent. The authors hope that the effort made herein can contribute to any eventual, future improvements to the Regulation. By 2025 the Commission is obliged to submit a review report on the application of the Regulation, which could also be accompanied by a proposal for amendments (in accordance with Article 82 of the Regulation). 

A secondary goal of the present article is to attempt to depict the work of the Polish doctrine dealing with the EU Succession Regulation. Although the Regulation has spurred great interest among Polish scholars and led to intensive debates relating thereto, these works are – for obvious linguistic reasons ‒ generally unknown to the wider European audience. The article considers interpretations of the Regulation in Poland alongside the debate in European academia. ... 

The central connecting factor used in the Regulation is the habitual residence of the deceased at the time of death. It determines both the general jurisdiction of the courts in succession matters (Article 4), as well as the law applicable to the succession as a whole (Article 21). This should be welcomed even if – as we will see shortly – it poses various difficulties of its own. The habitual residence has already been adopted in the 1989 Hague Succession Convention,11 as well as in several EU private international law regulations. Reactions of the governments and other stakeholders when the habitual residence was proposed in the Green Paper were generally positive. It was thus a natural choice for the EU legislator to opt for that connecting factor also in the context of succession matters. 

Habitual residence is an autonomous concept under the Regulation. It should be understood without reference to national laws and given a European meaning. It is a factual, if not casuistic, and somewhat vague concept so that the habitual residence is determined in each case by factual circumstances that connect the deceased with a legal system of a given state and its territory. As noted in Recital 23 of the Regulation: “an overall assessment of the circumstances of the life of the deceased during the years preceding his death and at the time of his death” is necessary. The Court of Justice already had the opportunity to make clear in a judgment in case C-80/19 E.E. that all the circumstances must be taken into account in making such determination. The Advocate General opined that a joint examination of the facts relating to the stability of the deceased’s situation must be carried out especially in complex situations. 

The above means that the habitual residence is determined on a case-by-case basis by the national courts, in light of the totality of factual elements present in the proceedings. As a practical matter, the evidence available to the court will be of the essence here. The role of the Court of Justice of the European Union is on the other hand limited. While the Court is competent to set the detailed criteria that would precisely define the concept of habitual residence (and its active involvement is certainly welcomed), it is ultimately up to the national courts to establish a practice that will provide a truly uniform understanding of the notion. For these reasons, habitual residence might be more difficult to ascertain than the nationality. It introduces greater uncertainty. 

The experience under other EU regulations that use habitual residence as a connecting factor will certainly be helpful. This includes, in particular, the case law of the CJEU under the Brussels IIa Regulation. One should nevertheless keep in mind that the concept is functional in the sense that its understanding under a given set of conflict-of-laws rules depends on the role it plays. Although cross-references and uniformity in interpretation standards are helpful, the habitual residence of the deceased for succession law purposes should, in our view, not necessarily be understood in the same manner as, say, the habitual residence of the seller to determine the law applicable to the sales contract under the Rome I Regulation. One must note, however, that many authors argue for the uniform interpretation of the concept of “habitual residence” under all EU instruments dealing with private international law. 

Habitual residence is defined as the place where the centre of a person’s vital interests (centre of a person’s life) is located. Under the Succession Regulation, this refers to the place where the deceased had the centre of his or her life. Recital 23 of the Regulation underlines that in determining this place, “the duration and regularity of the deceased’s presence in the State concerned and the conditions and reasons for that presence” are particularly important. The reasons thereto include both personal as well as professional motives for a stay in a given country. The whereabouts of the family home are thought to be particularly relevant in that regard, but the location of the business, employment, and other social relationships are also of some weight. Still, it is submitted that in the context of the Succession Regulation, family connections are somewhat more important than professional relationships, given the goals of the succession law in general (to pass the property to the relatives and other people close to the deceased). The weight of the family relations is different under the conflict-of-law rules relating e.g. to contractual obligations, where the habitual residence of a natural person acting in the course of his or her business activity is expressly defined as his or her principal place of business. Thus, for example in a case where a person established his or her family home and most personal and social relationships in country X, while driving every day to work in country Y, it should normally be assumed that he or she had his or her habitual residence in country X. However, if that person’s sole connection to country X was that he or she rented an apartment to sleep overnight, but had no family or social life there (and his or her social relationships were rather related to the work carried out in state Y), it would probably have to be concluded that he or she had their habitual residence in country Y (with reservation to other factors that could point to different conclusions). The suggestion that the habitual residence is “where one comes to rest, where one sleeps” – although often helpful ‒ should thus not be taken as an absolute rule. 

In difficult instances, when a person has significant connections with more than one state (e.g. living alternately in more than one state), the nationality of the deceased, as well as the location of the assets, might also be of relevance. However, as rightly noted by AG Campos Sánchez-Bordona in his Opinion in case C-80/19 EE, these factors have only subsidiary nature. While the facts in that case do not seem to be of the type where subsidiary factors should play a pivotal role in determining the deceased’s habitual residence, such cases might certainly occur. One example could be that of an elderly person who spends half of the year in a warmer climate zone (and has already built a social life there) and the other half in his or her home jurisdiction. A similar difficult case arises when a wealthy individual spends parts of the year in different countries, where he or she possesses homes, and important social and family connections, thus being significantly connected with each of these countries. In such cases, the nationality and the location of the deceased’s assets could constitute a decisive consideration. 

These subsidiary factors do not play such a substantial role in situations when the deceased acquires consecutive habitual residences at different points in time during his or her life. An example here is of a person who upon retirement transfers the centre of life to a different country. If the stay there is stable and affects a person’s social connections to the extent that one may conclude that he or she has settled there, one would normally have to conclude that this constitutes the acquisition of the new habitual residence. On the other hand, a temporary departure for another country, e.g. as a student participating in an exchange or international programme, or as a posted worker, does not normally imply a change in the habitual residence. 

A feature – and possibly a downside ‒ of the habitual residence is that it is a less stable connecting factor than that of nationality. It changes more easily with people moving from state to state. Nevertheless, as underlined in Recital 23 to the Regulation, it “should reveal a close and stable connection.” A temporary stay in another country (such as to study or being posted overseas for work), even if lasting relatively long, does not give rise to a change in habitual residence in the sense of a true change to the centre of a person’s life. Therefore, the habitual residence is not as vulnerable to changes and manipulation (e.g. by avoiding forced heirship rules of the country, where the deceased family lives) as some think. 

It might be noted that in States which had previously used nationality as the connecting factor determining the governing law, some sentiment is sometimes expressed given the need to drop their traditional approach in favour of habitual residence. The sentiment may be felt particularly in countries from which there has been a substantial amount of emigration, such as Poland, which may no longer apply their own law to the succession of their citizens who left the country. This also includes European citizens who emigrated to the non-EU Member States. In the case of Poland, that would include a large Polish community living in the United Kingdom and the United States. Given that the EU Succession Regulation grants subsidiary jurisdiction to the courts of a Member State where the assets of the estate are located (Article 10), a court in a Member State could be seised to decide with respect to the succession of a deceased habitually resident in a non-Member State. Nevertheless, under the universally applicable rule expressed in Article 21, such court would have to apply the law of a non-member state in question as governing the succession. 

While such a sentiment, particularly among politicians and other policymakers, might be understood, this should not be taken as criticism. It is our view that in a world where mobility of the people became easy (even if rendered more difficult by the recent outbreak of COVID-19 pandemic), nationality lost much of its relevance from the perspective of private international law. Habitual residence better reflects the modern social and economic reality, especially within the EU, where it promotes integration. Volatile and uncertain as it is, habitual residence provides a much closer and genuine connection of the deceased with a given legal system. The principle of proximity thus mandates that the issues relating to succession are subjected to the law of the state where the deceased had his or her habitual residence.

The New Zealand Law Commission Issues Paper 'Review of Succession Law: Rights to a person’s property on death - He arotake i te āheinga ki ngā rawa a te tangata ka mate ana' comments that 

Many parts of Aotearoa New Zealand’s succession law have not been comprehensively reviewed in decades. Much of the key legislation was drafted in the mid-20th century. Since that time, Aotearoa New Zealand has undergone significant social change, affecting the relationships we enter and what we think family means. The need for law-making to properly consider the Crown’s obligations under te Tiriti o Waitangi | Treaty of Waitangi is also better recognised by the Crown. The law may not have kept pace with these changes or the reasonable expectations of New Zealanders. This review of succession law follows our review of the Property (Relationships) Act 1976, which concluded in 2019. 

In our final report 'Review of the Property (Relationships) Act 1976 | Te Arotake i te Property (Relationships) Act 1976', we recommended that the Act’s provisions that apply when someone in a relationship dies should be considered in a broader review of succession law. The Government accepted the recommendation. In July 2019, the Minister Responsible for the Law Commission included a review of succession law in our work programme.

The Commission's terms of reference for the review 

 require us to consider who should be entitled to claim property from a deceased person’s estate, with a particular focus on the deceased’s partner and other members of the family. 

The particular statutes under review are the: (a) Property (Relationships) Act 1976; (b) Family Protection Act 1955; (c) Law Reform (Testamentary Promises) Act 1949; and (d) Administration Act 1969.  The terms of reference require us to consider how succession law should address areas of particular concern to Māori. We are not reviewing the regime for succession to Māori land under Te Ture Whenua Maori Act 1993 but are considering questions relating to succession generally that may be of particular concern to Māori.

The Issues Paper is organised into three parts: 

(a) Part One examines the basis for good succession law in contemporary Aotearoa New Zealand. 

(b) Part Two addresses the entitlements to and claims against estates. 

(c) Part Three considers making and resolving claims. 

They are structured as follows.

Part One considers both a conventional state law approach to succession law and an ao Māori approach to s In Chapter 1, we examine the changing demographics in Aotearoa New Zealand. We identify criteria that we have used when developing the proposals presented in this Issues Paper. We conclude the chapter by presenting our proposal that there should be a single, comprehensive statute that governs claims against estates (the new Act). 

Chapter 2 lays out our framework for developing good succession law from an ao Māori perspective. We acknowledge the significance of succession in te ao Māori. We explore the tikanga relevant to succession. We explain how this tikanga is an independent source of rights and obligations in te ao Māori and the first law of Aotearoa. We recognise that this review engages te Tiriti guarantee of tino rangatiratanga and how that requires Māori to retain control over tikanga. 

 In Chapter 3, we address a surviving partner’s relationship property entitlements. We propose that a surviving partner of the deceased should continue to have the right to choose to divide the couple’s relationship property or to take only what is provided to them under the deceased’s will or in an intestacy. 

In Chapter 4, we propose the repeal of the FPA. In its place, we propose the new Act provide for certain family members to claim “family provision” from the estate. We present options for the surviving partner, children under a prescribed age and disabled children of the deceased. We also present an option for all children of the deceased to claim family provision in the form of a “recognition award”, although for reasons given in Chapter 4, we do not favour this option. 

Chapter 5 examines the law that applies when a person claims against an estate in respect of the contributions they have made towards the deceased or their estate. We propose a new statutory cause of action to be contained in the new Act to codify the law in this area. 

Chapter 6 addresses the intestacy regime and whether it reflects the way most intestate people in contemporary Aotearoa New Zealand would want their estate distributed when they die. We propose options for which family members should succeed to intestate estates, in what shares and in what priority. 

In Chapter 7, we focus on succession to taonga. We consider whether the succession to taonga should be excluded from state law and instead be governed by tikanga Māori. 

Chapter 8 suggests that responsible kāwanangatanga involves recognising and providing for Māori perspectives. We ask how tikanga Māori might recognise and respond to various aspects of succession. We focus on the tikanga relating to the expression of testamentary wishes, obligations to a surviving partner and other whānau members (particularly tamariki), and obligations to someone who has contributed to a deceased or their estate. 

In Chapter 9, we examine what property should be claimable under the new Act, the respective priorities between claims, and options for what anti-avoidance mechanisms the new Act might incorporate to access property that may fall outside an estate. 

Chapter 10 explores the court’s power to grant individuals use and occupation orders over an estate. We propose the court should have powers under the new Act to grant rights to use or occupy property of the estate to meet the needs of the deceased’s surviving partner or minor or dependent children. 

In Chapter 11, we discuss the law that governs agreements people may make during their lifetime that determine rights against their estates when they die. We also look at the law that applies to parties wishing to enter agreements to settle disputes. We propose options for when and how parties can make these types of agreements. 

Chapter 12 looks at the jurisdiction of the courts to hear and determine claims under the new Act. We propose that te Kōti Whānau | the Family Court and te Kōti Matua | the High Court should hold concurrent first instance jurisdiction, except that te Kōti Matua | the High Court should continue to hold jurisdiction for issues concerning the administration and distribution of intestate estates. 

Chapter 13 explores issues with the law and procedure relating to how disputes are resolved when they go to court. We address matters such as time limits, disclosure of information, evidence, representation of parties, costs and delays in the courts. 

Chapter 14 focuses on the law and procedure that applies to the resolution of disputes out of court. We look at various matters such as the legality of settling some claims without court involvement, the procedure that should apply to settlement and the representation of parties. 

In Chapter 15, we look at the resolution of disputes from an ao Māori perspective. We examine ways disputes may be resolved in a way consistent with tikanga Māori, and we ask what can be done to support these processes. 

In Chapter 16, we address the duties that should fall on personal representatives when claims are made against an estate under the new Act. 

Chapter 17 examines the cross-border elements to claims against an estate. It covers matters such as choice of law rules, foreign law agreements, enforcement and jurisdiction. 

Lastly, Chapter 18 covers a range of other reform issues. We emphasise the need for education about the law relating to succession. We look at the revocation rules under sections 18 and 19 of the Wills Act 2007 when people enter or leave marriages or civil unions. We address the relationship between social security and family provision claims. Lastly, we comment on the court’s power to validate wills under the Wills Act, multi-partner relationships and distributing estates without grants of administration.

'The end to testamentary freedom' by  Richard Hedlund in (2021) 41(1) Legal Studies 55-72 comments 

Total testamentary freedom in English law came to an end with the passage of the Inheritance (Family Provision) Act 1938, since replaced by the Inheritance (Provision for Family and Dependants) Act 1975. The Act introduced the family provision rule, which allows disinherited family members to apply to court for a financial award out of the estate. This paper critically re-examines the parliamentary proceedings, held between 1928 and 1938, which debated the merits of testamentary freedom and the need to limit the doctrine by introducing the family provision rule, then already in force in many of the Dominions. There were strong social arguments in favour of redressing unjust disinheritances, pitted against core values of personal freedom and private ownership. The paper will show that there were compelling merits in introducing the family provision rule and the Act has stood the test of time.

Hedlund states 

In July 1939, the Inheritance (Family Provision) Act 1938 (the Act) came into force. As a result, an ‘Englishman's unlimited freedom to cut off his children without a penny is gone’. Prior to its introduction, English testators had enjoyed total testamentary freedom, with the right to disinherit their spouse and their children. That freedom stood in stark contrast to civil law jurisdictions where the doctrine of forced heirship applies. In those jurisdictions, a surviving spouse or child has a legal right to inherit. However, the freedom enjoyed by English testators was controversial. It was argued that unfair cases arose, for example where a ‘dutiful and loyal’ wife had been disinherited in favour of a mistress. Bit by bit, the call to limit testamentary freedom gained traction and support with the public and with Parliamentarians, culminating in the Act. This paper will critically reassess the Parliamentary proceedings that led to the passing of the Act. What arguments were made for and against it? What hopes and fears were expressed? How have these hopes and fear been met or dispelled in the decades since? The arguments raised in Parliament at the time closely mirror contemporary arguments about the application of the Act's successor, the Inheritance (Provision for Family and Dependants) Act 1975. The reassessment of the Parliamentary proceedings may help to find a resolution.

03 May 2021

CordBanking

'Peddling promise? An analysis of private umbilical cord blood banking company websites in Canada' by Alessandro R. Marcon, Blake Murdoch & Timothy Caulfield in (2021) Cell and Tissue Banking comments 

 Private umbilical cord blood banking is growing around the world. A family’s decision to bank cord blood publicly or privately can be influenced by numerous sources including healthcare practitioners, personal networks, the popular press, social media and marketing discourse from private entities. Issues have been raised concerning how private banks market their services, particularly with regards to the likelihood of use and for what purposes cord blood can be used. The objective of this study was to analyze the marketing on the seven company websites offering private cord blood storage in Canada. We performed a mix of content and general qualitative analysis on the seven websites. Our analysis shows substantial hype around cord blood uses, amplifying the promise of speculative uses and distorting the likelihood of use. Findings show that this promotional messaging often deploys communication strategies which draw on testimonials and emotionally-charged narratives. Questions should be asked about whether the promissory aspects of these websites constitute breaches of Canadian law or regulation. Careful monitoring of the private cord blood space is important for ensuring that the Canadian public is adequately and accurately informed of the services being offered.

The authors argue 

 Umbilical cord blood banking has grown significantly over the past two decades. The option was first made available in the 1990s following the discovery that cord blood is a rich source of stem cells (Kurtzberg 2017). These stem cells can now be used to treat blood and immune system disorders, and also in research on novel therapies not yet ready for clinical application (Allan 2020; W. T. Shearer et al. 2017). Unlike the United Kingdom, which has had an operational public banking program since 1996 (Haw 2016), and even though Quebec established a functioning provincial system in 2004, it was not until 2013 that Canada developed a national public banking program (Haw 2016; Héma-Québec 2012; NHS, access 2020). Private cord blood banks began offering storage in Canada as early as 1996 (Haw 2016) and have expanded significantly since. The current global market is projected to be worth $23 billion by 2025 (Global News Wire 2019). 

Public banking is overseen by government agencies, free of cost for the donor, and the collected materials are used to treat other patients or for research. Collecting as much cord blood as possible from a wide variety of ethnic groups is important to ensure opportunities for Canada’s ethnically diverse population. Private banking is for-profit, and stores cord blood for clients until retrieval is requested. Individuals generally pay an initial fee (approximately $1000 CAD), which covers registration and collection, followed by a yearly storage fee (approximately $125). There are currently seven private banking companies marketing in Canada (Parent’s Guide to Cord Blood 2020). Since both public and private institutions are interested in obtaining cord blood, Canadian parents are tasked with obtaining accurate, up-to-date information about whether and where to donate or store the cord blood following childbirth. 

Decisions to bank publicly or privately can be influenced by numerous sources including healthcare practitioners, personal networks, the popular press, social media and marketing discourse (Graham et al. 2016; Morgan et al. 2005; Peberdy et al. 2018; Soroka et al. 2013). Popular health websites such as www.babycenter.ca or www.webmd.com have pages dedicated to explaining the differences between public versus private banking (Private cord blood banking in Canada access 2020; Umbilical cord blood banking access 2020). Research has shown, however, the public’s awareness and knowledge of cord blood uses is lacking, and that information sources accessed by the public can be “varied, fragmented and inconsistent” (Peberdy et al. 2018). The differing and often opposing discourses produced by public and private institutions likely contribute to this confusion. 

Tensions exist in Canada between private and public cord blood banking. In Canada, as well as abroad, policy statements and government discourse recommend public banking over private, except in cases where a family might benefit from cord blood use based on an established prior condition like, for example, a sibling with leukemia, sickle cell disease, Hodgkin’s lymphoma or thalassemia (MyHealth Alberta access 2020; Health Link BC access 2020; Health Canada 2019; Shearer et al. 2017). These recommendations have been made because the potential for autologous (for donor) or allogeneic (for others) use offered by private banking is extremely low–a point confirmed by usage data (Shearer et al. 2017). Private banking is also costly and can elude regulatory oversight, in turn impacting overall blood quality (Shearer et al. 2017). In contrast, public banks provide public health benefits and regulatory oversight, which helps to ensure effectiveness while minimizing risk (Mohammed and EL Sayed 2015; MyHealth Alberta access 2020; HealthLink BC, access 2020; Health Canada 2019). Provincial and federal governments have also stressed how private banks commonly oversell the potential for cord blood use, especially with regards to more speculative therapies where evidence to support clinical application is lacking (Mohammed and EL Sayed 2015; MyHealth Alberta access 2020; HealthLink BC, access 2020; Health Canada 2019). 

Academic research investigating the public–private divide has described how public banks typically operate on a “regime of truth,” in contrast to private banks which typically operate on a “regime of promise” (Brown 2013; Martin et al. 2008). Here, private banks often apply the element of hope to their marketing discourse, upselling potential benefits, and thus playing into the “promissory” (Petersen and Krisjansen 2015) and “hyping” (T. Caulfield and Condit 2012; Master and Resnik 2013; Montague 2019) elements of the health sciences. Private banking has also been marketed as type of “biological insurance” for parents wanting to do whatever is possible for their children’s and family’s benefit (Brown 2013; Marcon et al. 2020; Martin et al. 2008; Weeks 2018). Indeed, a labeling shift has been observed with private banks now typically describing their services as “family banks” (Brown 2013; Martin et al. 2008; Weeks 2018). Further research documenting the procedures undertaken by women who stored blood privately in Canada found the process to be more complex and arduous than the women had expected (Haw 2016). Notably, a range of critical commentary also exists around public banking processes (Allan et al. 2016; Brown 2013; Isasi et al. 2013, 2018). In some contexts, critiques of drawing absolute distinctions between public and private banks have been raised, noting that similar marketing efforts are present in both (Beltrame 2020). 

The banking of cord blood will likely continue to increase both publicly and privately. Indeed, recent research on the portrayal of cord blood in the North American popular press has found that the topics of public and private banking feature significantly (Marcon et al. 2020). This research also shows that while private banking was more commonly portrayed as problematic than beneficial, strong and potentially persuasive narrative messaging around private banking benefits was also present, which might impact a family’s decision (Caulfield et al. 2019; Marcon et al. 2020). The public is increasingly going online to access health information (Shearer and Gottfried 2017), and because both the public’s knowledge and awareness of cord blood uses is lacking and because private cord blood banks typically oversell the potential for cord blood use, it is vital to observe and analyze the information influencing cord blood banking decisions. This includes analyzing the online marketing of the private cord blood banks as these companies’ practices may elude regulatory oversight, particularly with regards to misleading the public around the probability of usefulness and the practical benefits of private cord blood banking. Indeed, these companies require accreditation to operate in Canada, and it is their responsibility to adhere to government mandated truth-in-advertising standards (Murdoch et al. 2020). 

... The objective of this research was to analyze the marketing on the seven cord blood companies’ websites offering services in Canada. While research on the marketing of cord blood exists for other contexts or periods (i.e., Beltrame 2020; Brown 2013), there is no research for the current Canadian context. Given the concerns raised around private-banking marketing, we considered it valuable to analyze the manner in which the companies are marketing their services to the public. We sought to analyze specific characteristics and themes evident on the websites, and the degree to which websites promoted the growing future potential of stem cell use as a reason to store cord blood in a private bank.

Personhood

'The Personification of the Partnership' by Harwell Wells in (2021) 74 Vanderbilt Law Review asks 

What does it mean to say a business association is a legal person? The question has shadowed the law of business organizations for at least two centuries. When we say a business is a legal person we may be claiming that the law distinguishes its assets, liabilities, and obligations from those of its owners; or that it has a ‘real will’ and personality apart from its owners; or that it in some way can carry or assert rights generally ascribed to natural persons. This Article sheds new light on these old questions by looking at an oft-overlooked business form, the partnership, and at once-fierce debates over just what the partnership is. In the decades around the turn of the twentieth century scholars and practitioners hotly debated whether the partnership was an ‘aggregate’ or ‘entity’ and whether the law should treat it as a separate legal person, debates which culminated in the drafting of the Uniform Partnership Act (1914). Central to these debates was a now-forgotten facet of the legal personhood debates: the moral consequences of treating a business association as a distinct legal person.

'Flogging the Wrong: EU Corporate Fines Violate the Fundamental Rights of Shareholders' by Reuter Alexander in (2021) 12(4) Journal of European Competition Law & Practice 301–314 comments 

Herodotus reports that the fleet of Persian Great King Xerxes suffered from a severe storm when he crossed the Hellespont to invade Greece in 480 B.C. Thus, the Great King had the waves of the Hellespont punished by 300 strokes of the rod. Our smile about the Great King’s useless vengefulness leads, however, to the question as to who is sanctioned by fines imposed on legal entities, which, as such, are a mere pile of paper kept by the commercial register and as unsusceptible to punishment as the Hellespont’s waves. Is it appropriate to sanction the organisation (the company) as such, although it is always human individuals who violate the rules? If individuals are sanctioned by fines or other punishment, the sanction is based on the assumptions (i) that the sanction is justified by its purpose, that is, to act as a (specific or general) deterrent and (ii) that an individual is responsible for himself and must therefore accept the sanction as an evil that the community imposes on him for the law infringement (proportionality provided). In contrast, if a legal entity as such is sanctioned, then others are affected. In case of companies, these others primarily are the shareholders. However, neither of the described assumptions (i) and (ii) holds true about them. This raises doubts as to the legitimacy of corporate sanctions and, what is more, in respect of sanctions imposed by the European Commission, doubts in respect of their compatibility with the fundamental rights of the shareholders under EU law. These doubts are the subject of this article. 

The article submits that, in many instances, shareholders are unable to prevent the law infringements intended to be sanctioned by the fine, and that they are also unable to prevent recidivism. Hence, the article finds that corporate fines are not only manifestly unsuitable to reach their purpose. In addition, they do not ‘to strike the right balance’ within the meaning of the ECJ’s case law on restrictions of fundamental rights. Pointedly: If one takes the fundamental rights of shareholders seriously, the European Commission, when imposing corporate fines, is not only a revenant of Great King Xerxes in its sentiment that crime deserves punishment. It even goes further than the Great King in that it does not only flog waves, which feel no pain, but third parties, that is, the shareholders, without sufficient cause. 

It is true that in many decades of practice, the European Court of Justice (‘ECJ’) has never objected to corporate fines from that perspective. Yet, the analysis of these doubts is neither academic nor moot: The limits set by shareholders’ fundamental rights are a ‘fresh issue of law’, which has never been brought before, and dealt with by, the ECJ. It can, under the ECJ’s procedural rules, thus be raised at any time. This holds all the more so in view of the increased significance attached to EU fundamental rights and the mushrooming amounts of the fines, which the Commission has come to impose in the last decade. 

B. Concerns against corporate fines 

That sanctions on companies ‘do not have [a] deterrent effect, as they do not deal with individuals, but allow them to hide behind companies’, has already been argued earlier. In the same vein, corporate sanctions alone without a combination with sanctions against individuals were expected to become ‘subject to increasing criticism and diminishing legitimacy’. It was argued that while corporate fining is much easier and less costly for the authorities, cracking down on the companies is unlikely to deter directors from breaching the law. This article’s proposition is that the described concerns mutate in a legal objection if one takes the fundamental rights of the shareholders into due regard: Fundamental rights of shareholders cannot be restricted merely because their restriction is easier, less costly and/or benefits public budgets more, than law enforcement against the responsible individuals. 

C. Outline of the article 

As the highest EU fines are imposed under the EU competition rules, the article focuses on fines in this area. Chapter II sets forth the purpose of corporate fines under EU law. Chapter III describes the yardstick of shareholders’ fundamental rights against which corporate fines have to be measured. Chapter IV applies that yardstick to corporate fines and discusses whether or not they are proportional. Chapter V sets forth the practical consequences for the Commission’s practice, and Chapter VI contains the conclusion

Alexander concludes

While the Hellespont waves flogged by Great King Xerxes did not feel pain, the EU Commission’s corporate fines hit third parties, that is, the shareholders. Hence, corporate sanctions must be measured against their fundamental rights. This holds all the more true as the EU, in its desire for effective law enforcement, (i) does not only subject to corporate fines the acting legal entity, but its entire group, and (ii) measures fines on the basis of the turnover of the entire group, not only on that of the acting legal entity (see Chapter III C.1). In other words, to effectuate the prosecution of competition law infringements, the EU does not only ‘pierce’ the corporate veil, it removes it in its entirety. If EU law thus applies an economic approach in the interest of ‘effective’ prosecution and fining, nothing else can hold true about ‘effective’ protection of fundamental rights. Correspondingly, ‘effective’ protection of fundamental rights cannot stop at the corporate confinements of the legal entity either. From the perspective of the shareholders’ fundamental rights, corporate sanctions hit the wrong and do not bring about the targeted deterrence; as a result, they both are unsuitable (even ‘manifestly’ unsuitable) to reach their purpose and fail ‘to strike the right balance’. While the Great King’s power was absolute, the EU’s is not. Its corporate fine practice must be held to violate shareholders’ fundamental rights.