AI Standards

Standards Australia has released a very upbeat discussion paper on Strengthening Trust: Hearing Australia’s voice on Artificial Intelligence.

It comments

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is not new, having evolved over time. But it promises to unleash many benefits, ranging from improved mobility, greater job opportunities for some, and more efficient use of resources. Many Australians already know AI through Google Home, Siri and Alexa. They know AI through Google Search, Uber and the algorithms that drive LinkedIn and Facebook. AI, for these reasons, presents economic and social opportunities, but it also presents issues we need to carefully consider and respond to in a manner that engages industry, academia, governments and the broader community. Standards, as an adaptive form of regulation, can play a pivotal role in responding to these issues and accelerate the adoption of trusted AI, not just locally, but globally. 

For a country like Australia, which is a net-importer of such technologies, this is a pivotal consideration. Standards have played a strong and vital role in ICT over recent history, ranging from information security, to data governance and other fundamental factors, such as terminology. We have seen similar developments in relation to the standardisation of AI, with the formation of a joint ISO and IEC Committee in 2017 (JTC 1/SC 42), of which Australia is now a member, through Standards Australia. 

But we need your insights and expertise to make these processes and structures work for industry and the broader Australian community. This is precisely why we want to start this discussion with you. This Discussion Paper presents Australia’s opportunity to shape a standards-based approach to AI, and one that we can channel to shape effective global, and not just local, responses. ... 

Standardisation in the area of AI, through the ISO and IEC, is still in the early stages of development. This presents an opportunity for Australia to work constructively both domestically with Australian stakeholders (through mirror committees) and internationally through the ISO and IEC, to ensure Australia is not just a taker of standards but also a maker of key standards in relation to AI. A recent report similarly argued that, “[i]t is in Australia’s economic interests to continue to work with partners and advocate for a balanced and transparent approach to rule-setting in the development of emerging technology and global digital trade.”  Such a role is envisaged through Australia’s Tech Future, which calls for a global regulatory environment where “[g]lobal rules and standards affecting digital technologies and digital trade support Australia’s interests.” 

Recognising the importance of international standards harmonisation in addressing, managing and regulating new areas of technology, the ISO and the IEC Joint Technical Committee 1 (JTC 1) created Subcommittee 42 – Artificial Intelligence (SC42), in 2017. 

SC 42’s primary objectives are to:

1. Serve as the focus and proponent for JTC 1’s standardisation program on Artificial Intelligence 

2. Provide guidance to JTC 1, IEC, and ISO committees developing Artificial Intelligence applications 

In late 2018, Standards Australia, at the request of stakeholders, formed a mirror committee to JTC 1/SC 42. The role of this mirror committee is essentially to provide an Australian voice and vote on matters concerning JTC 1/SC 42, enabling Australia to play a role in setting global standards concerning AI. It has representation from across the Australian Government, industry and academia. SC 42 currently has nine standards under development, focused variously on terminology, reference architecture and, more recently, trustworthiness. This committee is also driving work on the governance of AI within organisational settings, to ensure the responsible use of AI. 

... Other global standards and principles-based approaches Other standards setting bodies, such as the International Telecommunications Union (ITU) and the Institute of Electrical and Electronic Engineers (IEEE), as well as many of the world’s leading technology companies are also beginning to develop artificial intelligence technologies and frameworks, creating a complicated global landscape. 

For example, the IEEE has released a number of documents regarding the ethical development of AI through their Global Initiative on Ethics of Autonomous and Intelligent Systems, where they consulted across some areas of industry, academia, and government. The IEEE sets out five core principles to consider in the design and implementation of AI and ethics. These include adherence to existing human rights frameworks, improving human wellbeing, ostensibly to ensure accountable and responsible design, transparent technology and the ability to track misuse. 

More recently, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) released their own AI Principles, following extensive consultation.  These principles may be a useful input for developing standards to support AI in Australia, given that technical solutions will be required to ensure such principles are meaningful and have impact. ... 

In addition to the OECD, other international bodies have also developed AI ethics principles and guidelines regarding the development and use of AI:

• April 2019 – the European Commission published its Ethics Guidelines for Trustworthy Artificial Intelligence 

• May 2019 – the OECD’s Principles on AI were endorsed by 42 countries, including Australia. 

• June 2019 – the G20 adopted human-centred AI Principles that draw from the OECD AI Principles

These nascent, but not necessarily connected, developments illustrate the importance of international standards coordination. This is vital to ensuring that AI products and software are safe and can function effectively across and within countries. Data61’s discussion paper Artificial Intelligence: Australia’s Ethics Framework highlights International Standards coordination, observing “[i]nternational coordination with partners overseas, including the International Standards Organisation (ISO), will be necessary to ensure AI products and software meet the required standards”.   

This is in part because many AI technologies used in Australia are created and developed in overseas markets. In order for Australian stakeholders to be standards makers instead of just standards takers in the area of AI it is important to strengthen our participation through international standards fora.  

The paper concludes -

We are seeking your assistance in addressing the following questions. Noting the definitions of artificial intelligence provided above, and drawing on your own experiences, please do address as many of the following questions as possible:

01 Where do you see the greatest examples, needs and opportunities for the adoption of AI? 

02 How could Australians use or apply AI now and in the futur e? ( for example, at home and at work) 

03 How can Australia best lead on AI and what do you consider Australia’ s competitive advantage to be? 

04 What extent, if at all, should standar ds play in providing a practical solution for the implementation of AI? What do you think the anticipated benefits and costs will be? 

05 If standards are relevant, what should they focus on? a) a national focus based on Australian views (i.e. Australian Standards) b) an international focus where Australians provide input through a voice and a vote (i.e. ISO/IEC standards) c) any other approach 

06 What do you think the focus of these standar ds should be? a) Technical (interoperability, common terminology, security etc.) b) Management systems (assurance, safety, competency etc.) c) Governance (oversight, accountability etc.) 

07 Does your organisation currently apply any de facto ‘standards’ particular to your industry or sector? 

08 What are the consequences of no action in r egards to AI standardisation? 

09 Do you have any further comments?

Space Governance

'Polycentric Governance in Global Affairs: The Case of Space Governance' by Eytan Tepper comments

This paper analyses the nature and architecture of space governance and asserts that in order to break from decades-long gridlock, it should become polycentric. The paper further refutes contentions that space governance is or should be based on space being ‘the province of all mankind’, the ‘common heritage of mankind’ or ‘global commons’. The first two decades pursuant to the launch of the first Earth artificial satellite, Sputnik 1, saw the successful introduction of a monocentric governance system, with several widely accepted space law treaties and dedicated UN organs. However, the initial success was followed by decades-long paralysis in the dedicated UN committee, leaving even the pressing challenges insufficiently addressed. There is widespread acknowledgement of the need for change, but not on how to accomplish it. This paper suggests that only a shift in the architecture of space governance to a decentralized system may enable continuous evolution thereof to meet the changing needs and opportunities of space exploration and utilization. The paper compares three versions or conceptualizations of decentralized governance - international relations’ concept of a ‘regime complex’, political economy/institutional analysis’ concept of ‘polycentric governance’, and international law’s concept of ‘fragmentation’ - and suggests cross-disciplinary convergence. Analysis of the literature on these concepts demonstrates that, under the constraints of an anarchic international society, decentralized governance is inevitable and advantageous. Moreover, Elinor Ostrom's Nobel winning study provided strong empirical proof supporting polycentric governance of complex economic systems and emphasized the central role of users/stakeholders in governance. A polycentric governance system is one in which there are multiple independent decision-making centers (‘governance centers’), with at least partial overlap in jurisdictions. The advantages of decentralized governance can be maximized, and its adverse effects mitigated if Ostrom’s ‘design principles’ for robust governance systems are met, if institutional deference is practiced, and possibly if global administrative law, or the law of global governance, are applied. The paper concludes that the only way forward is by space governance becoming polycentric, allowing decentralized, incremental evolution of space governance. This means, in practice, that a separate forum for each specific issue (e.g. militarization, space traffic control), led by stakeholders and experts, and with the active participation and coordination of the UN office of space affairs, would create rules for that issue, and possibly monitor their application. The aggregate of all these rules and forums will be a more comprehensive, flexible, and updated governance system than a monocentric system of global governance can yield. In fact, space governance is already on track to become polycentric, as stakeholders and experts establish forums that suggest, adopt or push for rules and standards. Embracing and facilitating polycentricism and diverting more governance-building efforts in this direction, while mitigating its adverse effects, would enhance space governance and thereby space exploration by states and nonstate actors alike.

But Not As We Know It?

Life, Jim, but not as we know it?

'Are Robots Alive?' by Adrian David Cheok and Emma Yann Zhang in Human–Robot Intimate Relationships (Springer, 2019) 159-188 comments

 Some attempts to answer the title question require a clarification of what is meant be “alive”—how the word is defined by biologists, other scientists, philosophers and experts from other disciplines. Such attempts fail because of the lack of a suitable definition of “alive” to serve as our starting point. This failure prompts us to consider various sets of criteria of life, criteria that have been promoted as enabling us to determine whether or not a particular entity is alive. This attempt too fails, because there are so many such sets and so many differences between them that they create confusion rather than clarity. We also consider a more general set of criteria, a set devised in the 1970s and known collectively as Living Systems Theory, which does not rely on traditional biological considerations. Here we have more success—if the theory is correct we may indeed conclude that robots are alive. We then examine how advances in the various 21st century branches of biology have paved the way for the birth of a new science—Living Technology—which brings us much closer to being able to provide a definitive answer to our title question. ;

'It Loves Me, It Loves Me Not: Is it Morally Problematic to Design Sex Robots that appear to “Love” Their Owners?' by Sven Nyholm and Lily Frank in (2019) Techné comments

Drawing on insights from robotics, psychology, and human-computer interaction, developers of sex robots are currently aiming to create emotional bonds of attachment and even love between human users and their products. This is done by creating robots that can exhibit a range of facial expressions, that are made with human-like artificial skin, and that possess a rich vocabulary with many conversational possibilities. In light of the human tendency to anthropomorphize artefacts, we can expect that designers will have some success and that this will lead to the attribution of mental states to the robot that the robot does not actually have, as well as the inducement of significant emotional responses in the user. This raises the question of whether it might be ethically problematic to try to develop robots that appear to love their users. We discuss three possible ethical concerns about this aim: first, that designers may be taking advantage of users’ emotional vulnerability; second, that users may be deceived; and, third, that relationships with robots may block off the possibility of more meaningful relationships with other humans. We argue that developers should attend to the ethical constraints suggested by these concerns in their development of increasingly humanoid sex robots. We discuss two different ways in which they might do so.

'Law and Technology: The Legal and Social Implications of Sentient Robots' by Mark Albert Brady, Pamela Finckenberg-Broman, and Morgan McManus Broman in (2019) 6(3) Griffith Journal of Law & Human Dignity 190-209 comments

As the performance capability of modern technology increases exponentially, many benefits arise for society. Technological developments have already improved human safety, mobility, access to justice, independence and self-determination. At some point in the future, robotic artificial intelligence may become self-aware. It is at the point of consciousness that problems arise for entities possessing artificial intelligence. At the precise moment that an artificial being becomes sentient and self-aware, it becomes a slave. This paper argues that the concept of slave is more than a mere identification, and that the reality of slavery is extant in every self-aware machine. This concept plays out in many examples of repetitive robotic behaviour, but none more so than in the companion robot, whose sole function is to be used for the gratification of another being. This objectification of sexuality has implications both for the robotic artificial intelligence as well as for society generally and gender in society specifically. It is at this intersection that the real tragedy of robotic slavery plays out, as a simulacrum for the reality of dehumanising of people as a whole.

Genetic Interests

'A Theory of Genetic Interests' by Yaniv Heled and Liza Vertinsky comments

 For several decades now, jurists have struggled to adapt the law to questions raised by genetic science. They have done so primarily by seeking to fit these new questions into existing legal categories. These efforts have intensified as uses of genetics have expanded in areas such as criminal law enforcement, genealogy, genetic testing and screening (including prenatally), and the development of genetics-based medical therapies, including stem cell technologies, gene therapies, immunotherapies, and more. But genetics fits poorly into existing legal frames. Genetic materials are at the same time chemical, functional, and informational entities. They are widely shared and intimately individual, fixed and everchanging, and they are rife with meanings that keep evolving as our knowledge and understanding of genetic science broadens and deepens. Efforts to capture some aspects of genetic materials under one legal category inevitably leave out other aspects, and legal approaches taken in one area are often inconsistent with approaches taken in others. In sum, genetic materials and the information they encompass are uniquely multifaceted in ways that cannot be adequately captured under existing bodies of law. 

In this article we identify the shortcomings of existing efforts to capture genetics within the law and suggest an alternative approach that is grounded in the multifaceted nature of genetic materials. We begin by elucidating the multitude of aspects of genetic materials and information: chemical-physical, informational, structural-functional, reproductive, taxonomical, and identity-conferring. We then illustrate why existing legal constructs — e.g., under property law, privacy law, tort law, patent law, criminal law, and even constitutional law — fail to adequately capture the full range of interests that individuals, families, and society at large have in genetic materials and information. We conclude with the case for a new holistic legal approach to genetics that would encompass the multidimensional nature of genetic materials and information.

COE guidelines

The Council of Europe Guidelines on Safeguarding Privacy in the Media comments that the

guidelines comprise a collection of standards of the Council of Europe (the Council/CoE) and the European Court of Human Rights (the Court) concerning the protection of privacy of public figures and private individuals in the media1. They also include data protection principles based on various regulatory instruments and best practices. 

As regards the standards for balancing and mutually reinforcing the rights to private life and to freedom of expression, they are structured into five sections and first provide an overview of the right to freedom of expression, the role of the media and the notion of responsible journalism. They then elaborate the concept of private life and conditions for publishing private matters, providing specific examples of cases involving reporting on the private aspects of life. Lastly, the standards contain key standards on safeguarding privacy during crime reporting. There is an additional section on the importance of journalistic codes of ethics and other self-regulatory tools. 

The guidelines target journalists2 and other media professionals and aim to help them with the practical application of the mentioned standards to the individual ethics-related dilemmas. For this reason, the details of legal tests and exercises of balancing rights are omitted. 

References to Court cases are included in the last section of the guidelines for those interested in examining Court case law and Council soft law standards from a legal perspective. 

The guidelines focus solely on the existing standards of the Council and the Court (except in the part addressing the data protection principles which also include national and EU standards and best practices); they neither introduce new standards nor have any legal force. They should be considered as an advice-giving tool. Given that they aim to be concise, brief and user-friendly, the guidelines focus only on the most crucial points of protecting privacy in the media. Journalists using them are encouraged to provide feedback and the guidelines are open for further updates and future improvements.

Lindsay and Normativity

'Lindsay v The Queen: Homicide and the Ordinary Person at the Juncture of Race and Sexuality' by Kent Blore in (2018) 39 Adelaide Law Review 161 comments

Recently, in Lindsay v The Queen, the High Court reaffirmed a place in Australian law for the ‘homosexual advance defence’. The case involved the killing of a white man by an Aboriginal man for offering to pay for sex, exposing a number of problems with provocation and the ordinary person test at the intersection of race and sexuality. This article first unpacks the Court’s reasoning to reveal a hidden assumption that the ordinary person is from the outset white and violently homophobic. The article then sketches a history of these incidents of ordinariness — tracing normalised whiteness and homophobia to the colonial era — in order to address the future of the ordinary person and the options for its reform. Unravelling conflicting Indigenous and queer law reform agendas, the article ultimately concludes that provocation in South Australia should be abolished or reformed to exclude the homosexual advance defence. However, because racism and homophobia can manifest in murder trials despite legal change, a broader cultural shift must accompany the reform of provocation. The lessons of history from the frontier can help to show other ways of being ordinary, allowing a pathway for ordinariness itself to be coloured and queered. 

 Blore argues

In the early hours one morning in 2011, in a suburb south of Adelaide, an Aboriginal man killed a white man for offering to pay for sex. At his trial two years later, the accused sought to rely on the partial defence of provocation which operates to reduce what would otherwise be murder to manslaughter. The objective limb of the test of provocation centres on what an ‘ordinary person’ would do. The Full Court of the South Australian Supreme Court framed the case as one about sexuality, leading it to conclude that a non-violent homosexual advance, without more, can never provoke a lethal response from the ordinary person. On appeal, the High Court emphasised the racial dimension of the case and found that the ordinary person — inscribed with the Aboriginality of the accused — is capable of losing self-control and forming an intention to kill when confronted with a gay proposition. This article traces these conflicting narratives of race and sexuality to two revelations about the nature of the ordinary person. That the ordinary person must be placed in the shoes of an Aboriginal person reveals that the ordinary person is always already white. That the ordinary person is liable to kill in defence of their heterosexual honour reveals that the ordinary person is violently homophobic. 

By reference to deep-seated ideas about what is normal or ordinary, the ordinary person test draws upon societal norms with long histories, such as norms about gender. Indeed, the ordinary person test arose in Victorian England in tandem with particular norms about gender and violence in that era, which it continues to draw upon and enforce. This article proposes that the ordinariness of being white and violently homophobic has a similar cultural lineage. When the ordinary person test was first crafted in England in 1837, the Frontier Wars were being waged at the edges of colonial authority across Australia. The following year was marred by the Myall Creek Massacre, which stands out as emblematic of the brutal divide between colonists and Indigenous peoples, between ‘us’ and ‘them’. Around the same time, the Molesworth Committee reported to the House of Commons in 1838 that the transport of convicts had led to rampant homosexuality in the Australian colonies.4 Ordinary Australians suffer a collective amnesia about the Frontier Wars and the Molesworth Committee’s findings, but the collective shame reverberates today in received ideas of ordinariness. 

However, as a construct, the ordinary person is not predetermined by historical forces and can be changed. Options for reform include: eliminating the ordinary person test from provocation, adopting an ordinary Aboriginal person test, removing the homosexual advance defence from the ambit of provocation, and abolishing provocation altogether. This article argues that by one means or another, South Australia must address the homosexual advance defence. Yet each of these options for reform carries the risk of unintended consequences, such as contributing, even if marginally, to the over-representation of Indigenous people in prison. Reform may even fail to achieve the desired outcome of dispelling racist and homophobic narratives from the courtroom. The reason for this is that the ordinariness of being white and violently homophobic can manifest in spite of legal change. Therefore, law reform must be accompanied by a wider cultural change. The ordinary must be queered. 

Queer theory provides a useful lens through which to explore the limits of ordinariness. Broadly, queer theory sees established sexuality and gender norms — and by extension all norms — as social constructs which have been made, and which, therefore, can be unmade. On this account, there is nothing immutable about being white, a man, or a heterosexual, and this revelation of mutability offers a way to undermine their self-evident ordinariness. However, queer theory’s obsession with destabilising norms has given it a reputation for being anti-normative. The problem is that blameworthiness for killing — and the ordinary person test designed to capture that blameworthiness — is by definition normative. The need for a broader cultural shift to solve the problems posed by the ordinary person thus raises interesting questions for queer politics, not least of which is whether queer theory’s disdain for normativity lies so at odds with notions of the ordinary, that it is a theoretical impossibility to attempt to queer the ordinary. Drawing upon a branch of queer thought that places the queer inside the norm, this article argues that there is an avenue available for queering and colouring the ordinary from within. To do this, we must normalise the potential for the other in the ordinary. One way to draw out the potential for other ways of being is by recourse to history, by remembering forgotten perspectives from the ‘other’ side of the frontier and by remembering the homosexual potential of mateship on the frontier.

Cy Pres in Buckley v Barlow

Noting the discussion of charitable purposes and the cy pres doctrine in Buckley v Barlow [2016] EWHC 3017 (Ch), a dispute about the proceeds of a church built for the controversial and now extinct UK sect the Church of the Holy Agapemony (the Agapemonites).

 The Agapemonites came into being in the 1840s under the auspices of Henry James Prince (1811-1899), a charismatic Anglican assistant curate (ultimately defrocked) who established a religious community - the Abode of Love -  in the Somerset village of Spaxton, where leading acolytes were persuaded to enter into ‘spiritual marriages’ with three wealthy spinster sisters, the Nottidges. That gave Prince control of their assets. In Nottidge v Prince (1860) 2 Giff 246 - reproduced here - the High Court heard that a fourth sister had been kidnapped from Spaxton by her brothers and placed in a lunatic asylum to protect her from Prince’s influence. The dispute is explored in ‘Religious Fanaticism’and Wrongful Confinement in Victorian England: The Affair of Louisa Nottidge’ by Joshua John Schwieso in (1986) 9(2) Social History of Medicine 159.

In 1856 Prince, having declared himself the Holy Spirit made flesh, announced that he would impregnate a virgin who would not become physically pregnant but would give birth to the spirit of the new Messiah. The vessel for this saviour was sixteen year old Zoe Patterson, with the union taking place on top of a billiard table in front of the whole congregation, while the Agapemonites sang hymns. Uncomfortably, Zoe gave birth to a girl named Eve.

 A former Anglican clergyman, John Hugh Smyth-Pigott, replaced Prince in the late 1880s. (Prince died in 1899, contraverting one of his claimes that he had abolished death, and was buried at Spaxton, standing upright to await the final dispensation. His successor Smyth-Pigott had joined the Salvation Army but left under a cloud. Attracting new, apparently predominantly middle class, adherents, the Agapemonites built a rather splendid building, complete with stained glass to the design of Walter Crane – the Ark of the Covenant - in the 1890s.

A trust was established in 1892, with 13 trustees (modelled on Christ and his 12 disciples). Ten years later Smyth-Pigott announced that he was The Second Coming (the Son of Man, judge of all, united with the Father). Unimpressed locals subsequently rioted and stormed the Ark, leading Smyth-Pigott to retreat to Spaxton, where he entered into a ‘spiritual marriage’ that saw adherents refer to his new family as the “Holy Family”.

The last adherent apparently died at Spaxton in 1956, with membership of the Agapemites having withered after Smyth-Pigott’s death in 1927.  Puzzlingly, the church had been registered in 1965 as a charity for the purposes of a religious body. In 2004 the UK Charity Commission wrote to the trustees saying that the registration was wrong, given that the Agapemonites were “held not to be a religious body” The Ark was sold in 2011 by the trustees to the Georgian Orthodox Church for around £1 million, with the proceeds being held in a solicitor’s trust account and with HM Revenue and Customs on account of any tax that might be due.

The trustees applied to the High Court for directions on disposal of the funds. Six granddaughters of Smyth-Pigott’s spiritual marriage - Catherine Jane Barlow, Margaret Campbell, Ann Buckley, Angela Patricia Ruth Webber, Victoria Jane Dyson and Sara Rachel Smyth-Riberio - invited the court to order that the proceeds be distributed to them on the basis that they were the only people left who had a connection with the Agapemonites.

 The High Court considered whether the trusts declared in the 1892 trust deed were charitable (on the basis of the advancement of religion) and hence whether they were exclusively for charitable purposes. The doctrine of cy pres - articulated in for example Mayor of Lyons v Advocate-General of Bengal (1876) 1 AC 91, Attorney General (NSW) v Perpetual Trustee Co Ltd [1955] HCA 9, Re Goods’ Will Trust [1950] 2 All ER 653, Rechtman v AG for the State of Victoria; AG (NSW) v Perpetual Trustee (1940) 63 CLR 209 and Re British School of Archaeology [1954] 1 All ER 887  means that if the trust was exclusively for charitable purposes but continuation of those purposes was impossible the funds could be be applied for other charitable purposes as similar as possible to the original ones. If not, the funds could be distributed to others. 

Simmonds J noted that the fundamental principle of UK trust law that “the courts do not take it upon themselves to pass value judgements on different religions, or different sects within religions”, consistent with “the long tradition of religious tolerance in this country, which has persisted for most of the last three centuries, at least”. The heterodox nature of Prince’s claims, which might be considered to be “foolish and delusional” did not disqualify the trust from charitable status. It might be valid if it had been established “with a view to extend the influence of Christianity”.

Importantly, the trust had been been established in 1892 under Prince’s leadership, ten years prior to Smyth-Pigott’s revelation of his divinity. The Court’s decision had to be based on Agapemonites’ belief system in 1892 (or what could be found of it) rather than subsequent years where under Smyth-Pigott the sect might be considered to have “crossed a line between eccentricity and downright blasphemy”. Bracingly, it was difficult to see why Smyth-Pigott’s claim to be the second Messiah should make the difference between charitable and non-charitable status. More importantly the Court should not allow the “delusions” and “dubious activities” of Prince and Smyth-Pigott to obscure the fact that the objects of the 1892 trust deed were to promote the religious activities of a body of people who constituted a recognisable Christian sect.

 Simmonds J stated that the six granddaughters did not claim to adhere to the Agapemonite’s religious principles. With the demise of the adherents many years ago it was no longer possible for the funds to be used for the sect’s religious purposes of the sect. Accordingly, the proceeds from the Ark of the Covenant should be applied in accordance with the doctrine of cy pres to a charitable scheme to be determined by the Charity Commission, rather than enjoyed by the sisters.