To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
This commentary uses five recent court cases in England and Wales to illustrate key legal principles related to hoarding disorder: (a) the need for balance between personal autonomy and protection from severe self-neglect; (b) the five core categories for assessing capacity regarding possessions: volume, access, hazards, safety and disposal; (c) courts expect clinical diagnoses to be based on substantive behavioural evidence rather than arbitrary manual exclusions or rigidly applied criteria; (d) impaired capacity to appreciate serious risks may justify compulsory intervention in a person’s best interests; and (e) although hoarding may constitute a disability under the Equality Act 2010, eviction can still be lawful where it is a proportionate response to significant risks to public health and safety.
This chapter is centred on the tension between public funding and public health, and on how decisions about resource allocation can shed light on the state’s intention about practices to select against disability. This is particularly relevant in relation to the broader analysis of eugenics in this book, because a eugenic intention might seem more likely if there is a state intention to avoid the higher costs of health and social care for disabled people. Although the mere fact that the parents of disabled children bear additional costs might not be sufficient evidence of eugenics, a more revealing examination of the state’s intention can be made through a comparison of different funding decisions. The chapter also examines two areas of decision-making where cost calculations might be relevant: in relation to decisions about public funding for the prenatal detection of Down syndrome, and to decisions about the treatment of very ill infants. While explicit cost–benefit analysis might seem to be ethically unacceptable, this analysis could nevertheless be an implicit consideration, and the concealment of this consideration could constitute a form of manipulation.
This chapter analyses the law in two areas that relate to prenatal selection, with the aim of critically evaluating what ‘messages’ the law might express about disabled lives, and about the state’s position: first, the law on abortion on the grounds of disability under the Abortion Act 1967, and second the law in the United Kingdom on preimplantation genetic testing (PGT). In the first case, it is argued that the disability ground in the law on abortion is not primarily protecting reproductive autonomy, but rather reflects a negative view about the value of disabled lives. In the second case, it is argued that the identification of approved conditions for PGT does not reflect a neutral approach to the definition of disability, and that the legal regime includes elements of state coercion. The chapter also examines a third area which does not relate to prenatal selection, but which might shed light on the state’s position about the latter: court decisions about the treatment of very ill infants. Here, there are reasons to think that interpretations of the best interests of the child do not, in fact, necessarily only take into account the interests of the child.
What is euthanasia? Basically, killing someone for their own good. The aim here is first to clarify this and second to explore the relationship between this killing and that envisaged under the proposed assisted dying scheme. There are important differences. With euthanasia the focus is on the patient’s best interests, doing what is good for her, while with assisted dying the emphasis is on autonomy, and doing what she wants. A suggestion is that the former concern is the one to prioritize.
According to the Mental Capacity Act 2005, P’s family are to be afforded a consultee role in a best interests decision. That is, they are to be involved in decisions but are not empowered to act as a substitute decision maker. However, in practice, healthcare professionals can struggle to set clear boundaries where families are insistent on more active treatment. The Best Interests in Renal Dialysis Study explored the making of best interests decisions in the context of adult kidney care in England. Interviewing healthcare professionals – both doctors and nurses – we found that it is not uncommon for the ‘path of least resistance’ to be pursued in best interests decisions where the family takes a strong position. Out of a fear of legal action and a desire to maintain a working relationship, healthcare professionals will sometimes compromise in providing care that they do not consider to be in P’s best interests to appease the family. This is seemingly at odds with the requirements of the Mental Capacity Act 2005, particularly where it goes as far as to prove harmful to P. Drawing on Margalit’s conception of rotten compromise, we argue that this form of rotten medical compromise undermines the law’s recognised P-centricity.
We consider the neuroethics of treatment without consent from a broader perspective than the accepted starting point of functional mental capacities. Notably, in common law jurisdictions, consciousness is seldom admitted in criminal law as a topic for expert evidence of mentalistic defenses or impairments in civil proceedings, yet consciousness and personality are central in Roman law jurisdictions.
Methods
The framework we have adopted is to consider treatment without consent under the headings goals, processes, treatment, and evaluation. The ECHR and the judges of the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) are drawn from both common law and Roman law jurisdictions, so that their interpretations and precedents may be informative concerning alternatives to strict application of capacity tests.
Results
There are variable thresholds for treating without consent according to the complexity and amount of information involved, the seriousness of the consequences of untreated illness, the effectiveness of the treatments available and the benefits of earlier intervention, particularly for disease-modifying treatments. Theory-driven principled approaches and scientific medical process approaches to ethical treatment are contrasted.
Conclusions
Carrara’s emphasis on the importance of consciousness and its layered dysfunctions as evidence of competence or impairment appears more robust than a narrow approach based only on functional mental capacity. Capacity—whether general or functional, remains amenable to rules of evidence and legal judgment at the expense of increasingly excessive simplification. Carrara’s emphasis on the inherent dignity of the person appears most in keeping with modern human rights principles.
This chapter analyses the indirect judicial application of the Convention on the Rights of the Child (the Convention) in Australia, which is a federal state of dualist tradition. The chapter demonstrates the vulnerability of the Convention in a system of parliamentary supremacy where the Convention is not legislatively incorporated and where the Parliament can make laws contrary to it. In this context, the traditional methods of engaging with the Convention have yielded limited results where there was tension with the domestic law, but were more impactful when there was convergence between the two sets of norms, as seen in the family law context. The Convention is also weakened by the absence of a federal human rights statute. The case study of the application of the Convention by the Supreme Court of Victoria shows that human rights statutes that contain child-specific provisions facilitate the judicial application of the Convention. The chapter also illustrates the creativity of the courts, which occasionally engaged with the Convention in sui generis ways, not explicitly acknowledged as formal methods of engagement.
Drawing from the case studies on the judicial application of the Convention on the Rights of the Child (the Convention) in France, Australia, South Africa, and the United Kingdom, this chapter argues that albeit fundamentally different in form, the direct and the indirect application of the Convention, respectively, produce similar effects. Both permit a meaningful engagement with the Convention and the development of child-sensitive reasoning. The chapter highlights that alongside the traditional methods of engagement with the Convention, courts have applied it in a sui generis manner. This demonstrates that the traditional reception rules are unable to capture the diversity of courts’ interaction with the Convention. The chapter discusses the factors that influence the courts’ application of the Convention and highlights the importance of the domestic structure of reception for the judicial application of the Convention. The chapter also concludes that article 3(1) of the Convention has been a favourite of the courts, who see it as a rich repository of legal principles and standards that allow them to justify a distinct legal treatment for children.
This chapter analyses the indirect judicial application of the Convention on the Rights of the Child (the Convention) in the United Kingdom, a dualist legal system where the Convention has not been fully incorporated through legislation. Although the courts have somewhat engaged with the Convention through the traditional methods (statutory interpretation and the development of the common law), the Convention has been given effect overwhelmingly in the context of the Human Rights Act 1998 (the HRA), and implicitly of the European Convention on Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms 1951 (the ECHR). The joint application of the Convention with the HRA–ECHR tandem has been both a facilitating and an inhibiting factor in the judicial effect of the former. Like courts in other jurisdictions, UK courts have also applied the Convention in sui generis ways, diversifying thus the opportunities for its usage. The overlap between the Convention and other legal standards makes the assessment of its impact difficult, but it is clear that the application of the Convention is associated with a more child-sensitive judicial reasoning.
The chapter analyses the judicial application of the Convention on the Rights of the Child (the Convention) in South Africa, which is a hybrid legal system with both monist and dualist features. The largely successful judicial application of the Convention has been facilitated by the country’s constitution, which contains a provision on children’s rights and generous provisions regarding the judicial application of international treaties. The chapter shows that courts favour the application of the Convention as an interpretation tool for the children’s rights clause in the Constitution, but they neglect other possibilities of engagement, such as self-execution or statutory interpretation. This has resulted in lost opportunities to give judicial effect to the Convention. Courts also engage in sui generis forms of application, which has diversified the means of its application. The impact of the Convention is sometimes difficult to discern because of its overlap with domestic instruments. Nonetheless, the Convention has demonstrated its value added when gaps were found in the domestic law, although most often the influence of the Convention has been subtle and diffuse.
This chapter analyses the direct application of the Convention on the Rights of the Child (the Convention) by the Court of Cassation and the Council of State in France, a monist state that has not passed legislation to incorporate or transform the Convention domestically. The chapter highlights the historical contentiousness of the direct application of the Convention, the different approaches taken by the two supreme courts, and the positive impact of the direct application of the Convention once this became more widely accepted. The chapter argues that the direct application of Convention articles gives them a quasi-constitutional status, and permits their mainstreaming into decision-making. It also shows that the direct application of the Convention, and especially of its article 3(1), has added value to judicial reasoning in relation to children. The chapter demonstrates that, contrary to other views, the direct application of the Convention by courts depends to a large extent on factors independent of it rather than on its intrinsic features, such as the alleged weak remedial framework, the generality of its terms, or the formulation of its articles.
Conscious but incapacitated patients need protection from both undertreatment and overtreatment, for they are exceptionally vulnerable, and dependent on others to act in their interests. In the United States, the law prioritizes autonomy over best interests in decision making. Yet U.S. courts, using both substituted judgment and best interests decision making standards, frequently prohibit the withdrawal of life-sustaining treatment from conscious but incapacitated patients, such as those in the minimally conscious state, even when ostensibly seeking to determine what patients would have wanted. In the United Kingdom, under the Mental Capacity Act of 2005, courts decide on the best interests of incapacitated patients by, in part, taking into account the past wishes and values of the patient. This paper examines and compares those ethicolegal approaches to decision making on behalf of conscious but incapacitated patients. We argue for a limited interpretation of best interests such that the standard is properly used only when the preferences of a conscious, but incapacitated patient are unknown and unknowable. When patient preferences and values are known or can be reasonably inferred, using a holistic, all-things-considered substituted judgment standard respects patient autonomy.
This paper explores the use of mediation in medical treatment disputes through the lens of therapeutic justice (TJ), a concept developed in the 1990s to consider the therapeutic and anti-therapeutic effects of justice systems. The paper argues that mediation may be a mechanism for achieving therapeutic effects for people involved in medical treatment disputes. In doing so, the paper highlights the conflict that can often arise between healthcare professionals, family members and patients in medical treatment disputes and the related difficulties with using litigation to resolve this type of conflict. It has been suggested by judges, academics and policy-makers that mediation might be a better way of resolving conflict in these cases. While mediation and TJ have much in common, the paper explores the many tensions between them, considering ways in which mediation might need to be done differently to achieve therapeutic aims. Finally, the paper identifies six TJ features against which mediation can be tested to consider whether it can live up to the claims that it can be used to resolve medical treatment disputes more therapeutically.
This book draws on the disciplines of law, philosophy, and psychiatry to interrogate whether the Mental Capacity Act 2005 meets the challenges posed by mental disorder to decision-making. It is often assumed that to allow space for individuality, any test for capacity must focus only on decision-making processes and not on the substance of the values that underpin decisions. Auckland challenges this assumption, arguing that the current law serves merely as a façade, behind which judgements can be made about the nature of a person's values, free from proper scrutiny. This book provides an in-depth analysis of when and how a person's disordered values should be relevant to the determination of their capacity, offering novel suggestions for reforming the capacity test to better reflect the impact of disorder on decision-making. It also explores the implications of this analysis for people found to lack capacity, concluding that reforms to the best interest provisions are urgently needed. This title is part of the Flip it Open Programme and may also be available Open Access. Check our website Cambridge Core for details.
This chapter reviews the Mental Capacity Act (2005), and Deprivation of Liberty Safeguards (Liberty Protection Safeguards). It reviews how to assess capacity, using the two-stage test, followed by when it is appropriate to undertake best interests meetings. Some of the main decisions are reviewed which are likely to be relevant to people with dementia, such as care and residence, managing finances, and deciding on medical treatment.
This chapter will explore how the provisions governing best interests assessments ought to be reformed so as to better ensure that an agent’s authentic desires are being prioritised in decisions being taken about them. The starting point should be that the assessor ascertains ‘so far is reasonably practicable’ the individual’s wishes, feelings, beliefs, and values. This should then be supplemented by a presumption that the agent’s wishes and feelings will be determinative of what is in their best interests, except when giving effect to them will expose the person to a risk of significant harm. Even where the harms are significant, however, there will still be occasions where the agent’s wishes and feelings should nonetheless take precedence; where to do otherwise would involve frustrating their deeply and authentically held beliefs, values, or commitments. This chapter will highlight some of the potential considerations which ought to guide assessors in these circumstances. It will propose that assessors be provided with a list of factors that they must take into account when determining the degree of weight to be ascribed to the agent’s wishes, which reflect these considerations.
The Introduction summarises the core themes of the book and outlines how the argument will proceed over the course of its chapters. It explains why the issue it centres around – namely, how the law grapples with the impact of mental disorder on decision-making – is so important, and why successfully navigating the tension between respect for (and deference to) idiosyncratic values, and protection from disorder or impairment, must be a precondition of England and Wales adopting ‘fused’ mental capacity and health legislation, or a more CRPD-compliant statutory framework. It also explains how the book relates to the existing literature in this area, which has focused in recent years on concerns about the binary nature of the capacity framework, and on the individualistic and rational ‘liberal subject’ on which this framework rests. Finally, it elaborates briefly on some of the concepts which the book will draw upon, in particular what is meant by ‘values’ and ‘beliefs’.
The foregoing discussion has highlighted the fundamental fragility of assessments of capacity, which hinge on a series of complex yet unavoidable clinical judgements about the person’s cognitive capacities and the origins of the beliefs or values that motivate their decision. This chapter will explore the implications of this for best interests assessments and, in particular, the extent to which due weight is currently being given to the person’s authentically held values and beliefs in the assessment of their best interests. Drawing on case law, interviews, and post-legislative scrutiny of the Mental Capacity Act, it will conclude that despite a number of empowering court decisions, the lack of direction contained in the Act on how to apply the MCA has still resulted in different weight being attributed to the agent’s wishes. Moreover, the trend towards greater empowerment has not yet trickled down to decisions being taken on the ground by doctors and care workers, which still remain characterised largely by paternalism and risk aversion. Those undertaking best interests assessments could therefore benefit from a more unified starting point and greater clarity on the factors which ought to influence the degree of weight accorded to the individual’s wishes.
Chapter 2 explains the historical and contemporary policy, legal and human rights contexts for decision-making by, with and for adults with cognitive disability. It describes the dominant narrative in the literature as depicting a journey from paternalism to autonomy, from exclusion to inclusion, and from discrimination to equality, aligned with three widely recognised models of disability – the charity, medical and social models. It explains that the book’s interpretation of Article 12 is founded on the acceptance of a social model of disability that acknowledges the residual impacts of impairment. The chapter explains the limitations of arguments favouring an interpretation of Article 12 as requiring that decision-making by substitutes be abolished. Such arguments privilege autonomy at the expense of other important human rights values and privilege the civil and political right to legal capacity over other civil, economic, political, social and cultural human rights.
The Mental Capacity Act (MCA) 2005 came into force in 2007 and covers England and Wales. It provides a statutory framework for anyone over the age of 16 who lacks capacity to make decisions for themselves, for whatever reason. The MCA was drafted by the Law Commission partly in response to the increased prevalence of dementia and the lack of legislation to deal with the challenges of so many people living longer and losing their ability to make decisions. It is the loss of ability to make decisions, because of the disease, which makes the key link between providing care and treatment with the application of the law. This is why the MCA is perhaps the most important of all the pieces of legislation we consider. The practical applications of the Act will be dealt with in more detail in the chapters to follow. More detailed guidance can be found in the Mental Capacity Act 2005: Code of Practice (for England and Wales), revised in 2022. We include some of the main amendments to the Code at the end of this chapter and these are also covered in the relevant sections of the book.