Andrew Tettenborn

Since the Ukraine conflict erupted, the EU has had a great deal to say about its sympathy for Ukraine as a brother European state. But if you look closely it has not actually done a great deal to derail Vladimir Putin’s war machine. Even the grisly discoveries at Bucha has wrought little change. Not surprisingly, the patience of some Europeans is now wearing thin. It's true that after the grim findings in recent days in newly-liberated Ukrainian towns, the EU did announce further sanctions. But for all the fanfare they were small beer. A few more banks were boycotted; the ageing Russian merchant marine was excluded from EU ports; and bars were put on imports of oil and coal.

Sometimes old grievances are best laid to rest. That was certainly the view of Tony Blair when his government issued nearly 200 ‘comfort letters’ to Irish nationalist gunmen in the wake of the Good Friday Agreement. But a decision by the Northern Ireland High Court on Wednesday will upend that principle, setting back years of compromise and reconciliation. For some time it has been all but impossible to prosecute IRA men for murders committed during the Troubles. British security forces, however, remain vulnerable, although most are now in their seventies and long retired.

Did Boris Johnson fail to put his money where his mouth is when it came to hitting Russia with sanctions? The Prime Minister's critics think so: they argue that the targeting of five Russian banks and three oligarchs as a response to Putin's invasion of Ukraine was too little, too late. These cries came not only from Labour, and from the Green party's Caroline Lucas (who scandalously accused the PM, without a shred of evidence, of wanting to appease would-be Tory donors), but from his own side. Tory backbencher Iain Duncan-Smith demanded a more general blacklisting of Russian banks and plutocrats, while his party colleague Nickie Aiken went so far as to suggest forcibly expelling oligarchs’ children from English fee-paying schools.

Nadhim Zahawi’s recent reminder to schools to keep their teaching politically neutral seems like common sense. The Education Secretary pointed to existing laws to show that while uncritical promotion of BLM ideology or climate activism to children wasn't acceptable, controversial matters could still be taught with proper balance. But there were still predictable howls of protest from the usual quarters.  Hope not Hate accused the government of obsessing about 'culture wars'. Amnesty International complained of a sinister chilling effect on classroom speech on current affairs and children’s loss of 'safe spaces'.

On Wednesday, in a decision that ought to get a good deal more attention than it will, our Supreme Court said that it was unacceptable that the press should be allowed to tell us that someone is being investigated by the police. It confirmed that someone in that position, an international businessman being investigated over alleged serious irregularities and frauds, had rightly been awarded a five-figure sum in damages from Bloomberg when it entirely truthfully pointed out that fact. Known only as ZXC, the man, said their Lordships, had a reasonable expectation of keeping disreputable matters like that quiet, even if they became known.

When politicians take to preaching, we feel uncomfortable. When bishops take to politics and managerialism, the sinking feeling gets worse. Now it seems we should brace ourselves for more pulpit politics: a Church of England proposal suggests that church leaders could be appointed to full-time cabinet-style roles such as 'Brexit bishop' or 'Covid bishop'. These plans should seriously concern any Anglican well-wisher. After all, why would the appointments stop at Brexit and the pandemic? Knowing the C of E, it seems a racing certainty that if these proposals come to anything others would include matters like climate change and anti-racism. What about preaching the Gospel?  Hidden within proposals for political bishops is a drastic rewriting of what bishops stand for.

We can all see that our universities are not in a good shape. They are churning out too many graduates – who probably shouldn't have gone to university in the first place – into a difficult job market. But do those in charge of them want to do anything about it? The row over a proposed government shake-up – which could limit places to those with decent GCSE grades – suggests not. Former fair access tsar Chris Millward led the backlash against the mooted plans. Appointed with great fanfare by Justine Greening in 2017 as the antidote to academic complacency, last weekend – freed from official obligations after he stepped down – he fired a broadside at the government.

Timing is everything in politics. Partygate showed the usually sure-footed Boris at his most careless and inept, dwarfing even his run-in with the Commissioner for Standards that cost him North Shropshire last month and (one suspects) helped lose him Bury South on Wednesday. But the British electorate can be very forgiving. When it elected Boris it did not mind too much about his tendency to get things wrong on points of detail, seeing him instead as the man who saw what had to be done, was honest about it and got on with the important part of the job. At the time the scandal broke about the ‘drinks cabinet’ at No. 10, Boris could have taken advantage of this. Imagine if he had quickly admitted to having taken his finger off the pulse and let down the voters.

Lawyers with an awkward agenda can be a thorn in the government’s side in Scotland as much as in England. Last year, for example, they persuaded the Court of Session to refuse a green light to Nicola Sturgeon’s bright idea for a unilateral Indyref2; and in a much higher profile case a couple of years earlier convinced the same court that the SNP had unlawfully and quite unfairly botched its investigation into Alex Salmond. But the Scots legal profession is by tradition forcefully independent, if anything even more so than its English counterpart. Broadly, Scottish solicitors are regulated by the Law Society of Scotland, and advocates by the Faulty of Advocates.

After the Colston debacle, you might be forgiven for having missed the other legal story that broke this week. The European Court of Human Rights has dismissed the complaint in the Ulster 'gay cake' case, so the decision in favour of the baker will stand. In case you need reminding, seven years ago a Belfast gay rights activist called Gareth Lee asked Ashers, a high-class bakery, to produce a cake inscribed with the phrase 'Support Gay Marriage' for an event he was organising. The bakery owners refused, citing Presbyterian religious scruples, whereupon Lee sued for discrimination. He lost.

You might find it difficult, not to mention dangerous, to get to see a real meeting between an irresistible force and an immovable object. But if you’re looking for the next best experience over Christmas, you could well take a look at the ballooning legal spat between Poland and the EU. To remind you of the background, it is part of Brussels’s catechism that its law must at all times and in all places trump the law of a member State. True, the principle doesn’t appear in the treaties; but the Court of Justice, from which there is no appeal, has said so since 1963.

Court decisions don’t often call for three cheers, but today’s Court of Appeal determination in the Harry Miller case is an exception. Essentially the judges have told the police to rewrite the rules on recording what they see as hate incidents.  However technical this looks, this is actually an enormous blow in favour of the freedom of ordinary people to say what they want. It is also an admirable Christmas present for anyone seriously concerned with protecting free speech, not to mention a high-profile triumph for the Free Speech Union, who stood squarely behind the appeal. Fighting cases like this needs moral and financial support: and in tandem with Fair Cop, the FSU has very commendably provided both.

You could almost hear the rejoicing in Whitehall on Friday morning when the High Court cleared the way for Julian Assange to be extradited to the US, rejecting a plea that he was too mentally frail. The man has, after all, been a thorn in the administration’s side for 11 years: 18 months contesting his rendition to Sweden, followed by seven embarrassing years holed up in the Ecuadorian embassy, and then two-and-a-half years in Belmarsh fighting extradition to the US on espionage charges. But there is one disquieting feature. The offences he is charged with in the US are not ordinary charges of criminality, like the accusations he faced in Sweden, but are essentially state crimes: in this case espionage and the betrayal of US state secrets.