'The British disease' - obsession with official secrecy

The late Richard Crossman coined the term, and it would appear the path to a cure is now illuminated.

On January 1 of this year, Britain's Freedom of Information Act took effect.

The law was first promised in 1974, and took over twenty-five years to become law and four more to fully come into force.

Under the act, anyone, of any nationality, living anywhere in the world, can request information held by more than 100,000 public authorities and other designated non-governmental organizations in Britain.

An answer can be expected within 20 days, free except for the cost of copying, printing, and postage.

The act also created an independent commissioner to rule on questions of security exemptions and the like.

Richard Thomas, the commissioner, says he will err on the side of the public's right to know.

Unlike in the U.S., where the public can only turn to the courts for enforcement, Thomas is the ultimate authority.

He can order unlimited fines or prison terms for noncompliance on the part of government officials.

Sunlight truly is the best disinfectant.

Here's the story, from the Economist's December 29, 2004 online edition.

Out of the Darkness

The Freedom of Information Act heralds a big change in the relationship between citizens and the state in Britain

Want to know how many accidents involving nuclear weapons have occurred in Britain over the past 20 years?

Or where police speed-cameras are?

Or how many patients have died from the MRSA “super-bug” in your local hospital?

The Freedom of Information Act, which comes into full effect on January 1st, gives you the right to know all this, and much more.

It could mark the end of what the late Richard Crossman called "the British disease" - an obsession with official secrecy.

Most developed countries - more than 50 in all - have freedom of information laws.

Britain's was first promised in 1974 by the then Labour government.

It took more than a quarter of a century to reach the statute book and a further four years to come fully into force.

Although some local authorities are still scrambling to get their houses into order in preparation for the expected influx of information requests, most central government departments are now well geared up, with a mass of easily accessible information already on their websites.

Under the act, anyone, of any nationality, living anywhere in the world, will be able to request information held by more than 100,000 public authorities and other designated non-governmental organisations in Britain, and expect an answer within 20 working days, usually free of charge save for the cost of copying, printing and postage.

Only where the costs of retrieving and collating the information are above £600 ($1,160) for a central government department (the rough equivalent of three-and-a-half days' work) or £450 for other public bodies (two-and-a-half days) can a full charge be made or the request refused on the ground of expense.

There are, of course, exemptions.

Anything relating to national security, most personal data, court records, information subject to parliamentary or legal privilege, or information likely to "prejudice the effective conduct of public affairs" is subject to an "absolute" exemption which cannot be overridden.

But most exemptions are subject to a public-interest test.

Although "public interest" is left undefined, Richard Thomas, the independent information commissioner set up by the act, has made it clear that he will be tempted to err on the side of the public's right to know.

Mr Thomas's views matter, for all appeals will be made to him.

In the United States, where Mr Thomas has no counterpart, aggrieved members of the public can seek enforcement of their "right to know" only through the courts.

In Britain, Mr Thomas will be able to take up their cases.

Authorities who refuse to comply with his demands face unlimited fines; individuals face prison sentences.

Civil-rights groups are nevertheless worried that a right of ministerial veto, included in the act, could be used to block any information deemed too politically embarrassing or sensitive by the government of the day.

The present government's abysmal record of compliance with the non-statutory "open government" code, in force for the past decade, certainly does not bode well.

But Mr Thomas points out that in New Zealand, on whose freedom of information legislation Britain's act is closely modelled, the ministerial veto has not been used once in the 17 years since the present system was brought in.

After January 1st, it will become a criminal offence to destroy data for which a valid request has been made under the act.

In the run-up to this deadline, according to newspaper reports, Whitehall's shredding machines have been working overtime in a last frantic bid to destroy the most sensitive records.

But Mr Thomas remains sanguine about such claims.

He reckons that shredding is probably mostly about "good record housekeeping" and the removal of unwanted trivia.

Computer files, in which most information is kept these days, are notoriously difficult to destroy.

Mr Thomas is not expecting any kind of "big bang" on January 1st.

He says that a cultural change in the relationship between citizens and the state was already under way.

He expects this now to accelerate, with lobby groups and journalists leading the charge with some big test cases.

No one knows for certain how many requests the act will attract, but they are likely to number thousands, if not tens of thousands, a year.

Mr Thomas expects that his office may have to deal with around 2,000 appeals in the first year.

Tony Blair has described the Freedom of Information Act as one of the lasting achievements of this government.

He could well be proved right.