A billionaire Arab sheikh thinks Britsh judges can be bribed, according to an allegation made at a recent employment tribunal in Scotland. Sheikh Maher al-Tajir, whose family owns 24,000 acres of land in Perthshire, is alleged to have said to Chris Mulqueeney “You’re so patriotic. Hasn’t anyone told you that the law of this great land works on money, not justice?” The sheikh allegedly said he’d stitch up Mulqueeney and then fix the judges: “I’ve got enough money to buy any of them . . . all have their price in this country.”

It’s undoubtedly true that for much of British history there was significant judicial corruption, but not today. You can buy at lot of things in Britain but you can’t buy a judge.

Mulqueeney’s case is in Scotland but English law is just as intolerant of bribery. It is a serious crime for anyone to give any judge or magistrate a gift in order to influence a decision or for something already done. It’s a crime punishable with up to life imprisonment. Where the judge reports the briber, the offence is punishable even though the bribe was rejected. If a judge accepts such a gift, he also commits a crime.

In earlier times, corrupt judges were periodically caught and removed from office. In the 13th century, six judges were sacked for taking bribes. In 1350, the Chief Justice, Sir William De Thorpe, was kicked out when his corruption became intolerable. In 1384, the Lord Chancellor, Sir Michael de la Pole, was accused by a London fishmonger of taking bribes after they fell out. The Chancellor was acquitted but his work was soon discovered to be decidedly fishy and he was later impeached for other offences.

In the 16th century, Bishop Hugh Latimer wrote of judges: "they all love bribes. Bribery is a princely kind of thieving." In the following century, Francis Bacon, who became Lord Chancellor in 1618, pleaded guilty to 21 charges of bribery and corruption. He had accepted substantial bribes from various litigants to encourage him to rule in their favour. He was fined £40,000 and sent to the Tower.

Lord Macclesfield, who became Lord Chancellor in 1718, was found guilty of corruption, fined £50,000 and thrown out of office for “selling offices” by demanding an honorarium (a voluntary fee) from anyone appointed as a new judge. He asked for so much money that the only way the new judges could afford the sums was to pass the cost on, so to speak, to the litigants in the courts over which they got to preside.

As society became industrialised and commercialised, though, it became more important for dispute resolution in law courts not to be distorted by bent judges. The big and often conflicting interests of people such as landowners, railway magnates and entrepreneurs were at stake. The system of business that was being born couldn’t tolerate a law machine whose cases might swing on whoever got to buy the judge. That would have been too chaotic.

So the legal system became more allergic to bribery. In 1747, Thomas Martin of Yarmouth in Norfolk, wrote to the Lord Chancellor, mentioning a case in which he was about to be sued. With a flourish of subtlety that wouldn’t have got him a job in diplomacy, Martin enclosed a £20 note with the letter. He was quickly pulled before the judge and charged with contempt.

There are one or two examples of unsuccessful attempts to bribe judges in more recent history. In 1964, for example, Lord Devlin mentioned a barrister who told clients in the 1930s that “several thousand pounds” would persuade Mr Justice Findlay to “listen more attentively to a plea in mitigation” than he would otherwise do.

Today, in Britain there are over 3,000 judges and 30,000 magistrates. There are over a million criminal, civil, family and commercial cases a year heard throughout the court structure. So it would be silly to say there’s absolutely no corruption of any sort, ever. How would we know if there were? Bribes are secret deals, so unless something goes very wrong we might not know about most of them. After all, a bribe is the only transaction whereby the giver says “thanks” and the receiver says “Don’t mention it”.

In fact, there’s clear assurance to be had. These days, the highly selective methods of appointing judges, ample routes of case appeals and open case reporting mean that the judiciary is as corruption-free as it could be. If a judge makes any decision that isn’t clearly supported by the facts, or the law, or by relevant guidelines, it can be appealed. Purchasing the favour of a politician or the willingness of a footballer to fix a match might be possible, but anyone out to buy a judge will face an exasperating shopping trip.

Professor Gary Slapper is Director of the Centre for Law at The Open University

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