[Note: This is part 1 of 2 of a series; in it I discuss the textual meaning of “Proceedings in Parliament” in Article 9 of the English Bill of Rights, then its historical context, then some precedent. In part 2 I will discuss the most recent precedent in the prorogation case and its accuracy (or lack thereof).]
“Proceedings in Parliament” is a seemingly straightforward phrase in Article 9 of the English Bill of Rights (1689), yet one the meaning of which has stirred great controversy. The Article, given in full, provides:
“That the Freedome of Speech and Debates or Proceedings in Parlyament ought not to be impeached or questioned in any Court or Place out of Parlyament” (sic.).
The contentiousness of its meaning should not be surprising, because the phrase is itself so general. So, what precisely is a “proceeding”? If an MP participates in parliamentary business, such as a committee meeting, or a debate, is that a proceeding? I suppose anyone would say that is a proceeding. Is there a proceeding, then, when an MP gives a tour of the legislative chambers on the Parliamentary Estate to his constituents? I suppose most would say there is no proceeding there. But what is the basis of this distinction? In truth, the whole debate as to the meaning of the phrase turns on its definition, the basis of distinguishing a proceeding from a non-proceeding. It is from this that the controversy as to its meaning has arisen. I hope to clearly set forth the meaning of this phrase here, something which has perplexed eminent scholars.
- Textual Analysis
Before I come to the precedents, I will consider Article 9 textually first. The phrase “Proceedings in Parliament” is preceded by “Freedom of Speech and Debates”. The items preceding it are pre-legislative actions or actions used in a supervisory capacity by opposition in Parliament over the government. This grouping of terms is not random, because the drafting style in the Bill prefers to group closely related, or even synonymous, terms together. So, beyond Article 9, in the Bill’s enacting clause, the closely related words “Prerogatives Powers Jurisdictions and Authorities” (sic.) are grouped together. Considering that “Proceedings” occurs in the immediate context of “Freedom of Speech and Debates”, Lord Browne-Wilkinson is correct in Pepper v Hart that the Article’s “plain meaning” indicates that its protection extends at least to the formal activities, proceedings, conducted either House of Parliament.[1] That is, protection from any legal consequences for things said in parliamentary proceedings, which is effectively given by such things being placed outwith judicial cognizance.
As a preliminary note, I observe that the grouping in Article 9, though similar to the other groupings in the Bill, is not identical. So, in the clause claiming the rights, after the Heads of Declaration, insists that “noe Declarations Judgments Doeings of Proceedings to the Prejudice of the People” in respect of their declared rights be made. The same is true of the “Prerogatives Powers Jurisdictions and Authorities” we considered earlier. This sort of grouping suggests that these words are so closely related as to be synonymous with each other. And yet when we come to Article 9 we see “Freedom of Speech and Debates” grouped as a distinct pair, and “Proceedings in Parliament” also related to them but also, in a sense, distinct from them “Proceedings”. For otherwise “Proceedings in Parliament” being distinguished from the first pairing by the use of “or” would be useless. So, whereas the meaning of “Proceedings in Parliament” is conditioned by “Freedom of Speech and Debates”, it is not exclusively limited to those. “Proceedings in Parliament” thus must have distinct semantic content. As we shall see later, this is a view which itself has support in the judicial interpretation of the clause, though in not so many words. I will discuss the specific content of the meaning of “Proceedings in Parliament” when I consider that case-law.
I think I may in short order rebut a potential argument which may be made against my preceding argument. That is, it may be said that I have misunderstood the style of drafting in the Bill. For, as Allen notes, in the eighteenth-century statutory drafting exhibited verbosity which obscured the meaning of statutes “under a welter of superfluous synonyms”.[2] So, the argument may go, that to read too much into the specific formulation of a grouping of essentially synonymous terms is an error. For the style of drafting in that era sought to comprehensively cover matters by using synonymous terms. Thus, “Proceedings in Parliament” should not be seen as having content independent of “Freedom of Speech and Debates” and therefore proceedings should be defined as merely the formal business of either House of Parliament. In this vein, actions of the Crown in relation to Parliament would not be protected by Article 9. I grant that such an argument has some force. However, it is mistaken because it dismisses a conscious decision of word choice on the part of the drafters. It further stands against the grain of the case-law as we shall see later. It also does not accord with the nature of Parliament and its proceedings, as delineated by Blackstone who is representative of the law as it stood at his time.[3] Incidentally, this argument as to drafting would support what Anne Twomey suggests may be the trend of judicial interpretation after the prorogation case, in treating acts of the Crown in relation to parliament as excluded from Article 9 protection.[4] But this will have to be considered later when we discuss the case-law. Our object in this section is textual analysis.
The Heads of Declaration (recitals) of the Bill of Rights roughly mirror the Articles of the Bill. The structure of the Bill is thus relevant to our consideration of its meaning. So, for example, the eighth clause of the Heads complains about James II “Violating the Freedome of Elections of Members to serve in Parlyament” (sic.). And Article VIII accordingly provides that “The Election of Members of Parlyament ought to be free” (sic.). Likewise, the ninth clause of the Heads, corresponding to Article 9, complains of the Crown initiating “Prosecutions in the Court of Kings Bench for Matters and Causes congizable onely in Parlyament and by diverse other Arbitrary and Illegall Courses” (sic.). On the basis of the structure of the Bill, we may reasonably conclude that it was to address this grievance that Article 9 was enacted. However, without historical knowledge of the period we are blind as to the events which informed this grievance and are therefore our interpretive ability is maimed. We must look to the historical background to the Bill next, then. The case-law itself supports this course of action, for indeed Lord Browne-Wilkinson, alongside the plain meaning of Article 9, also refers to the historical background to the Article as informative regarding its interpretation.[5]
- Historical Background
So, what is the historical basis for enacting Article 9? 1629 was the year Charles I assumed Personal Rule of the realm independently of Parliament. It was also, as Anne Twomey notes, the year the case of R v Eliot, Holles and Valentine[6] was triedwhen three parliamentarians were prosecuted and convicted of seditious speech in Parliament and thrown into the dreaded Tower.[7] Consider that no previous attempt had been made to restrict this possibility in law before the Bill, and that the Bill was enacted in direct opposition to the excesses of Stuart rule. On this basis, it is a fair reading of the historical context that Article 9 was enacted to legislatively overturn the precedent of R v Eliot, Holles and Valentine and the chilling effect it had on parliamentary freedom of speech. James II only prosecuted the seven bishops for petitioning him,[8] in remedy of which Article III of the Bill was framed protecting the right to petition the Crown. However, the Bill in general acted as the capstone on the anti-Stuart constitutional development leading up to and including the Glorious Revolution.
The historical background of Article 9 indicates that it would be anachronistic to seek in the Article direct support for the exercise of prerogative powers in relation to, at the very least, actions of the Crown against individual members of Parliament. I think however it is disputable whether or what the Article, in its plain sense and historical context, says anything about uses of the prerogatives, such as Royal Assent and prorogation, which touch the King’s constituent role in Parliament. This arises because the Article is formulated at an extremely high level of generality, and thus necessarily requires interpretation to make its consequences in particulars clearer, much like a sunbeam is refracted through a prism to reveal colours. So, it is to the prism of judicial interpretation we turn next. Though, it is not a perfect prism, for it can err, it is useful to take our argument forward.
- Judicial Precedent
- Pepper v Hart [1993] AC 593
I have referred already to Pepper v Hart. There Lord Browne-Wilkinson correctly noted that the plain meaning of Article 9, in its historical context, indicated that the provision exists to protect parliamentarians from any legal penalties connected to their activities in Parliament.[9] Therefore, the use of Hansard in interpreting a given Act, where the validity of the Act is not questioned, or the legality of any parliamentarian’s saying something is not questioned, is lawful.[10] It is not sufficient that something the judicial power might say in this connection might influence the conduct of MPs or noble Lords, for even a comment made in the media, or by some other private person may do that.[11] To argue that the judicial power even indirectly influencing parliamentary conduct in this way is forbidden by the act would by the same token abolish the freedom of speech in general, because Article 9 forbids not only judicial inquiry but also inquiry “in any […] Place our of Parlyament” (sic.). This is manifestly absurd and goes against both the plain sense and the historical context of the Article.
Nevertheless, Lord Browne-Wilkinson lays down an important norm for us. He says,
“Article 9 is a provision of the highest constitutional importance and should not be narrowly construed. It ensures the ability of democratically elected Members of Parliament to discuss what they will (freedom of debate) and to say what they will (freedom of speech). But even given a generous approach to this construction, I find it impossible to attach the breadth of meaning to the word “question” which the Attorney-General urges. […] Plainly article 9 cannot have effect so as to stifle the freedom of all to comment on what is said in Parliament, even though such comment may influence Members in what they say.”[12]
Here we have two principles of interpretation which guided his Lordship in his judgment in that case. First, that as a constitutional provision of the highest importance, the Court should never seek to be restrictive as to its application. Second, provisions of constitutional importance should not be interpreted so that they are put in conflict with the liberties of citizens. For, indeed, the Bill of Rights was expressly instituted so that “Arbitrary Power” be constrained,[13] and that “the Lawes and Liberties of this Kingdome” (sic.) be preserved.[14] Indeed, provisions of constitutional importance exist within the given context of the laws, free customs, and liberties of the people and exist to support them in an institutional structure, not to undermine them.[15]
Yet, it is for precisely this reason that there should be generous interpretation of these provisions, so that the institutions of State, here the constituent parts of Parliament, may effectually and freely serve their purpose for promoting the common good. It seems here that a fundamental presumption of Article 9 of the Bill of Rights is that, in the constitution of England, later Britain, it is Parliament which is the chief guardian of the laws and liberties of the realm and not the judiciary. Given that it was Parliament, not the judiciary, which had assembled to give the Crown to William and Mary on condition of them accepting the Bill of Rights, and that it was Parliament, not the judiciary, which had resisted, in the Petition of Right (1627) and elsewhere, the incursions of Charles I upon the law, customs and liberties of the realm, our assumption is sound.
Indeed, the immunity of the Crown in the courts had not yet developed into the sophisticated system of judicial review that we now have. Furthermore, the Crown had greater influence over the judicial system, as indeed evidenced by James II initiating the prosecution against the seven bishops, and so the use of the judicial power could not be relied upon as friendly to constitutional liberty. Thus, among the background presumptions of Article 9 is included, that the political branches, in Parliament and its chosen limited Protestant King, are the chief guardians of the constitution. For myself, when a State, such as Britain, where the political Parliament still has supreme power vested in it, and the executive has powers touching it, such as Royal Assent, dissolution,[16] and prorogation, enabling it to immediately manage Parliament than the Court, it is obvious that the political branches are still the guardians of the Constitution. It is not legally required in this era, besides the bare formality of the Protestant royal succession,[17] that the exerciser of executive power, chiefly the Prime Minister have any specific religious affiliation. But the Executive still retains within its discretion those very important powers in relation to the control of Parliament. The judiciary only enjoy an imperfect and unentrenched separation of powers based more on practical comity than rigid separation; whatever powers such instruments as the Human Rights Act (1998) give them, they are given by Parliament which, together with the Executive that manages it, is the chief guardian of the constitution. I will elaborate on this later, but will say here that my reason is based specifically on the specific relationships between legislature and executive, and legislature and judiciary in our constitution.
- R v Chaytor [2010] UKSC 52
In R v Chaytor, we see the Supreme Court adopt a seemingly different approach, at least in its verbal formulation. There, Lord Phillips, speaking for the Court, said that,
“There are good reasons of policy for giving article 9 a narrow ambit that restricts it to the important purpose for which it was enacted – freedom for Parliament to conduct its legislative and deliberative business without interference from the Crown or the Crown’s judges. The protection of article 9 is absolute. It is capable of variation by primary legislation, but not capable of waiver, even by Parliamentary resolution. In effect where it applies is to prevent those injured by civil wrongdoing from obtaining redress and to prevent the prosecution of Members for conduct which is criminal It has limited penal powers to treat criminal conduct as contempt”.[18]
So, Lord Phillips lays down that article 9 be interpreted in light of the purpose for which it was enacted, and not beyond that. How is this “a narrow ambit”? It is a narrow ambit when compared to what the criminal Mr. Chaytor tried to claim, in that his counsel argued that his illegal conduct regarding parliamentary expenses was protected by Article 9. To propose a hypothetical scenario, it is a narrow ambit as compared to a fictional MP who commits a libel in Westminster Hall when giving a tour of the parliamentary estate to his constituents and then tries to shield himself behind Article 9. Neither Mr. Chaytor nor our fictional MP are protected. As compared to their cases, it is a narrow ambit which Lord Phillips proposes. It is narrow compared to such cases for two reasons, first, that, even beyond the bare text, its very purpose does not include those criminal prosecutions which have nothing to do with parliamentary proceedings; and, second, Parliament itself has no means whereby to address such grievances.
In this connection, Blackstone notes that MPs enjoy “not only privilege from illegal violence, but also from legal arrests, and seizures by process from the courts of law” so long as a parliamentary session endures, and so long as those offences are not treason, felonies or breaches of the peace.[19] Here, Lord Phillips’s purposive holding does not contradict Blackstone, but include what he says. For the aim of the Article itself is to ensure that parliamentarians be left unmolested in the course of their participation in parliamentary proceedings. In this respect, it is “Proceedings in Parliament” which holds operative significance. Whatever they do which forms a part of those proceedings, that is debate, speech, or part of some legislative action, is unimpeachable. In other words, a proceeding in Parliament is that which concerns the essential nature of Parliament as legislature, among which are included debates and speech said during a proceeding. Things incidental, and not essential, to the legislative purpose of Parliament are not protected under Article IX.[20]
The effect of Article 9 is not to extend the arm of law across the ages to pre-emptively immunise members of either House from criminal liability unconnected with their essential duties. Incidentally, and this is rather illustrative and is not an essential part of my argument, the US Constitution’s provision descended from Article 9 is clearer, because it explicitly provides Senators and Representatives privilege from arrest except for treason, felony, and breach of the peace, and protects them from being questioned outside Congress “for any Speech or Debate”.[21] The US Constitution incorporates not only Article 9, but also Blackstone’s interpretation of it, using extremely similar phraseology. The holding in Chaytor effectively restates the meaning of Article 9 as it stood when it was enacted and how it was understood during the 18th centuries, but for the 21st century.
But what of Lord Browne-Wilkinson’s principle preventing Article 9 from being “narrowly construed”?[22] No, as regards that, Lord Phillips does not lay down a a narrow ambit. It is not narrow because it is purposive. Lord Phillips explicitly states that Article 9 ought to be interpreted for the “important purpose for which it was enacted” and within that purpose, the protection is “absolute”.[23] That is, there is an absolute bar to any judicial or other intervention in the essential business of Parliament.
“There is no comprehensive definition of the term proceedings in Parliament”.[24] So, we proceed piecemeal, case by case determining whether a given thing falls under Article 9. I suppose one of the benefits of the Article being framed so generally is that things which would, when the components of the concept are explicitly stated, be unwittingly left out, are not. The concomitant loss is that we are provided with, practically, a somewhat elastic concept, with greater disputability about if a given action is in truth a ‘proceeding in Parliament’. Yet an elastic band is not infinitely stretchable, and so elastic concepts do not admit of infinite elasticity. In time, almost a decade after Chaylor, this was to be seen in another case, that of prorogations.[25] Caught up in the debate which followed the prorogation case, was an earlier one which considered Royal Assent. I will consider it, next.
- R (Sir David Barclay) v Lord Chancellor [2014] UKSC 54
This case was cited by the Government in its final submission in the prorogation case, specifically paragraph 48 where it was (in retrospect, ironically for the Government) Lady Hale who said that,
“However, it is the clear responsibility of the United Kingdom government in international law to ensure that the Islands comply with such international obligations as apply to them. Just as the United Kingdom Parliament has the constitutional right to legislate for the Islands, even without their consent, on such matters, so must the United Kingdom executive have the constitutional power to ensure that proposed Island legislation is also compliant. […] Nor is the analogy with Royal Assent to Acts of the United Kingdom Parliament exact: the Queen in Parliament is sovereign and its procedures cannot be questioned in the courts of the United Kingdom”.
It is good to consider the dictum in itself, apart from the Government’s gloss on it, which we shall consider in its proper place.
What, then, is the relevance of this dictum? Well, it is evidently relevant to Article 9 and contains latent in it presumptions rooted in the traditional practice of the constitution. I will start with the first point I have made here, its relation to Article 9. John Finnis observes that Lady Hale’s sentence, that the procedures of Parliament “cannot be questioned in the courts” echoes Article IX’s rule that “Proceedings in Parlyament ought not to be […] questioned in any Court”.[26] The similarities between them are too striking to be coincidental, and the dictum must be an allusion to Article 9. In any case, without referring to Article 9 specifically, it is referring to an aspect of the traditional practice of the constitution, which is what I concern with myself next.
What am I talking about? That in Parliament is represented the entire nation, from the Crown as its head, to the general citizenry. The “three estates”[27] of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, with the Commons are united to the head, the Crown, representing the whole “realm” in Parliament.[28] This is the theoretical basis of the composition of Parliament which has been held consistently since at least the 16th century, [29] up to the case of De Keyser’s Royal Hotel wherein Lord Atkinson alluded to it,[30] and it is implicit in the phrase ‘Queen-in-Parliament’. The Crown, being a constituent element of Parliament, its actions in Parliament are an inherent part of its proceedings. Of these, Royal Assent is a quintessentially legislative act and protected by the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty. It is also protected by Article 9, as a proceeding in Parliament.
This second argument, however, is circular: Why is Royal Assent protected? Because of Article 9. Why should the Court not strike down Article 9? Because Royal Assent has been given to it. That is Royal Assent, which is protected by the sovereignty of parliament, by which even that doctrine is seen as circular. Nevertheless, I am not one to shy away from Dworkinian ideas, and think that the justification for these legal rules is based on deeper principles of the constitution. I will return to this later, where it is more relevant.
- An Aside: As to the Crown’s Freedom of Speech
The trend in the case-law we have considered has been to emphasise the freedom of speech and debate of individual members of the Commons or the Lords in parliamentary proceedings. But does not the King, as a constituent part of Parliament have his own freedom of speech and debate in Parliament protected under Article 9? I think some readers may think I am being simply absurd: Article 9, indeed the very Bill of Rights itself, was enacted to restrict the Crown and here I am trying to overstretch the Article where it simply does not apply. However, this sort of reasoning is based on a theory of constitutional development which is itself falsely grounded, as I have shown elsewhere in more detail. Indeed, the Bill itself sought to preserve intact the Crown and “all […] Prerogatives Powers Jurisdictions and Authorities to the same belonging and appertaining”, which were then extant.[31]
It was not, as Disraeli noted, the design of Parliament to reduce the King to English equivalent of the impotent doge of Venice,[32] nor was this implicit in their trend of constitutional development. But rather it was the express design of Parliament to keep a powerful Executive indeed, but not an “Arbitrary” Executive.[33] So, it is not inimical to Article 9 for the King himself, or abstractly the Crown, to enjoy the freedom of speech and debate guaranteed to the members of the Lords and Commons.
However, inimical or not, does the Crown in law enjoy the same rights as the members of the Lords and Commons under Article 9? I have gone beyond the direct discussion of the Barclay case now, but what I am discussing is relevant to the presumptions of the Crown as constituent element of Parliament. So, I think it is appropriate that I make my discussion here, before I move on to the prorogation case. Again, then, does the Crown enjoy the same protections as MPs and parliamentary Peers do in parliamentary proceedings? This particular question has not been directly considered in any case, either because it was not relevant to the issue being examined, or because the Court (as in the prorogation case)[34] evaded it. However, Blackstone considered it briefly and to him I turn.
Unfortunately, Blackstone does not give it extensive treatment, but he sets it in the situation of the opening of a new parliament. “And this freedom of speech,” says he, “is particularly demanded of the king in person, by the speaker of the house of commons, at the opening of every new parliament”.[35] Indeed, parliamentary privilege was “principally established” to protect members of Parliament “especially from being oppressed by the power of the crown”.[36] However, what seems implicit in Blackstone’s reasoning is that because the Crown is a constituent part of Parliament, whose proceedings are protected, then the Crown itself enjoys the privileges of Parliament. Thus, under Article 9 a broadly defined legal protection is given, the particular exercise of the rights under it, being outwith judicial cognizance, is subject to political and conventional control. Here again we are confronted with the duties of the political branches in being the principal actors as regards the constitution, and the judiciary as only a sort of referee when its jurisdiction occasionally becomes relevant. In this sense, non-justiciability of proceedings in Parliament in the words of Finnis, “that complex of rules, principles and conventions, a complex of which art. 9 of the Bill of Rights is a plain manifestation and enforcer”.[37] This complex encompasses both the legislative prerogative of the Crown in Royal Assent, and the Crown’s right to speak freely in Parliament.
I have no desire to engage in arcane and esoteric speculations about the ancient theory of the Crown. But, as I hope you will see, that what I am saying is derived from the case-law. In considering the next case, that celebrated or, perhaps, notorious (depending on your opinions) case of prorogations, you will see how truly relevant what I have said thus far is. Perhaps you may think that some of my reasoning has been at the hinterlands of the law, but it is at the hinterlands where borders are defined, and where hard cases are decided.
I think I’ve reached a natural pause in the present series. I will take up the discussion of the prorogation case’s interpretation of article 9 in part 2.
[1] Pepper v Hart [1993] AC 593, 638; cf. R v Chaytor [2010] UKSC 52 [54]
[2] Allen, Law in the Making (7th edn, 1964) 482 in Ian McLeod, Legal Method (Springer 1993) 193: “‘From the laconic and often obscure terseness of our earliest statutes, especially when in Latin, we swung in the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to a verbosity which succeeded only in concealing the real matter of the law under a welter of superfluous synonyms.’ (Allen, Law in the Making, 7th edn, 1964, p.482)”.
[3] William Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England (vol. 1, 1765 Clarendon Press)
[4] Anne Twomey, ‘Article 9, parliamentary proceedings and the consequences of Miller (No 2)’ (29 September 2019, Policy Exchange) <https://judicialpowerproject.org.uk/anne-twomey-article-9-parliamentary-proceedings-and-the-consequences-of-miller-no-2/> accessed 25 October 2025
[5] ibid
[6] (1629) 3 How. St. Tr. 294
[7] Anne Twomey < https://ukconstitutionallaw.org/2019/10/04/anne-twomey-article-9-of-the-bill-of-rights-1688-and-its-application-to-prorogation/> accessed 24 October 2025
[8] Trial of the Seven Bishops, (1688) 12 How. St. Tr. 183
[9] Pepper v Hart (n1) 638
[10] ibid
[11] ibid
[12] ibid
[13] Bill of Rights 1689, Recital.
[14] Ibid, Heads of Declaration.
[15] I am borrowing here phraseology from not only Pepper v Hart and the Bill of Rights, but also the Petition of Right (1627).
[16] Dissolution and Calling of Parliament Act 2022
[17] Act of Settlement (1700), Art. 1, which was not amended to allow non-Protestants to inherit the Crown in the Succession to the Crown Act (2013). Para. 17 of the Explanatory Notes to the 2013 Act reiterates: “The prohibition on the Sovereign being a Roman Catholic is not changed by the Act”. It is interesting to see how in a largely secularised State but still maintaining a State religion, the Church of England, with the monarch as its titular Supreme Governor, how the prohibition of Catholics was interpreted. Sir Alan Beith MP asked, in relation to the potential for allowing a Catholic to become monarch: “Is it not unreasonable, however, to ask a Roman Catholic to become the Supreme Governor of the Church of England […] or to conform to the Presbyterian Church when in Scotland?” (Hansard vol. 557, HC Deb. col. 249, 22 January 2013). Jacob Rees-Mogg MP, himself a Catholic, agreed with Sir Alan: “I agree with my right hon. Friend. It would be perfectly reasonable to leave the law of the land as it is, or to make provision for a regency, which would address the problem. Under the Regency Act 1937, the regent would be required to be a Protestant and would therefore be able to carry out the functions of Supreme Governor of the Church of England for a period when the Crown was being held by a Catholic” (ibid.). What is strange in this case is that no serious consideration was given to how James II maintained his allegiance to the See of Rome, while being dispensed by that See to assume the statutory, ecclesiastical office of Supreme Governor. I suppose James II is not a happy example to choose, however, and the constitutional position advanced after him, as Sir Alan alludes, to inter alia require him to conform to Presbyterianism when in Scotland.
[18] R v Chaytor (n1) [61]
[19] William Blackstone (n3) 160-161
[20] R v Chaylor (n1) [62]: “Submitting claims for allowances and expenses does not form part of, nor is it incidental to, the core or essential business of Parliament, which consists of collective deliberation and decision making. The submission of claims is an activity which is an incident of the administration of Parliament; it is not part of the proceedings in Parliament. I am satisfied that Saunders J and the Court of Appeal were right to reject the defendants’ reliance on article 9.”
[21] US Const. Art. 1, §6, cl. 1
[22] Pepper v Hart (n1) 638
[23] R v Chaytor (n1) [61]
[24] Joint Committee on Parliamentary Privilege Report [1999] HL 43-1;HC214-1 in R v Chaylor, ibid [54]
[25] R (on the application of Miller) v The Prime Minister [2019] UKSC 41
[26] John Finnis, The unconstitutionality of the Supreme Court’s prorogation judgment (2019, Policy Exchange) 8, para. [5]
[27] Re De Keyser’s Royal Hotel [1920] AC 508, 539 (Lord Atkinson)
[28] William Blackstone (n3) 149; Christopher St German, An Answer to a Letter (1535) in Jeffrey Goldsworthy
[29] ibid
[30] Re De Keyser’s Royal Hotel (n27) 539
[31] Bill of Rights (1689), enacting clause
[32] Benjamin Disraeli, Vindication of the English Constitution (Saunders and Otley 1835) 176-179
[33] Bill of Rights (1689), Recital
[34] R (Miller) (n25) [68]
[35] William Blackstone (n3) 159
[36] ibid
[37] John Finnis (n26) 8, para. [4]
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