‘No one above the rule of law’: Rt Hon Emily Thornberry MP

‘I want to get politicians to understand the rule of law. They are subject to it! No one is above it. The Attorney General is the only one who can say “No, Prime Minister.” For far too long we have not had someone to do that. I shouldn’t expect to have to bang on about the rule of law and how it applies to government. Government can’t say it will break international law but only in a specific and limited way. No AG should allow that. I will remain vigilant against any weakening of our country’s commitment to the European Convention on Human Rights.’

Should barristers go on strike? ‘That’s a matter for them. The government is not doing enough to solve the crisis. I quite understand why barristers feel they have to do something about it, but my focus is on challenging the government to solve the problem.’

Emily Thornberry, in her second spell as Shadow Attorney General, has welcomed me to her Islington constituency office. The desks of her small, friendly staff all seem to have bikes leaning against them. At the time of our interview in September she is preparing a speech on fraud for the Party Conference. ‘What depresses me about the position of the Serious Fraud Office is that the problems I spoke about 10 years ago are still there. How can you prosecute a company for fraud? You can’t. You need a change in the law. There should be a form of corporate liability where individual wrongdoers have acted for the company.’

An unusually tough upbringing confirmed Emily in her view that ‘only Labour has the credibility to work for change’. She was born in Guildford in 1960 to Labour supporting parents, her mother a teacher, her father a lecturer at LSE in international law. He stood unsuccessfully for Labour in the 1966 general election. ‘They split when I was seven. My brothers and I stayed with my mum. We were all thrown out of the house. There were visits from bailiffs in bowler hats. Mum would say “Get down”, so they couldn’t see us through the windows. There was talk about our being taken into care but we went to a council house. We were cold. Mum and her friends were going without food so their children could eat. I gained a strong sense of right and wrong. The world wasn’t fair: the 11+, which I failed; Mum being visited by social security to see if she was living with a man; checks on the number of toothbrushes in the bathroom.

‘At my secondary modern school we were not expected to go to university or even do A levels. My careers adviser said I could always visit people in prison.’ This unwittingly turned out to be an accurate prediction. ‘I had a big row with my mum just before my O levels. She put me in her car, drove me to Dad’s house in Hammersmith and left me on the doorstep. I moved in with Dad and commuted to Guildford for the next four weeks for my exams. I went for A levels to Burlington Danes school [now Academy, at White City] and then off to the University of Kent [in 1979] to study law.’

Why law? ‘I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Dad had said that law was good training for the mind and you could use it for all sorts of things. One day he just left me for a diplomatic job in New York and didn’t come back. He was paying for the house and had given me a car, but I was still only 17. I worked during my studies, including behind the bar at the Hammersmith Palais and various pubs, factories, silver service, and even selling ice cream at the theatre – great jobs and good experience.

‘Kent was an “alternative” law course – “law in society”. In our first term of company law we were lectured on Marxist economic theory; in the second term it was joint stock companies and Marxist economic theory; in my third term I had to do a dissertation and make sure I actually learned a bit about company law! I was also doing a lot of student politics and radio station work. I had always been involved in politics. Mum had become a Labour Councillor as I was growing up. We held ward meetings in our house. I did leafleting. I made my first speech at a public meeting when I was 14.’ Did she have to be asked? ‘No, I just got up and did it. It was about nurseries; education cuts had made the situation even worse.

‘At Kent I was elected vice president of the student union. The president gave me the topic of “academic affairs” in order that – as he joked – I could meet my lecturers. After Kent I had another decision to make. My best friend was going off to Bar School and suggested I come too. I did. But I didn’t like it, especially meeting the upper classes en masse; I didn’t feel like I belonged. When I finished, I looked for jobs and eventually got one as clerk for a firm of solicitors.’ Then a revelation. ‘I saw the criminal law in action for the first time. I had fallen on my feet. I knew what I wanted to be.’ She was called at Gray’s in 1983.

Advice from the late Sir Louis Blom Cooper QC set Emily on a course of pupillage followed by squatting until she obtained a tenancy at Took’s Court with Michael Mansfield KC. She had met at Bar School her future husband Sir Christopher [Lord Justice] Nugee, ‘a lovely kind and clever man. I am very proud of him. In our early years, because he was starting out at the Chancery Bar, I was the main breadwinner. As Privy Counsellors we both attended the Accession Council on 10 September. We accompany each other to many events but this was the first event at which we were both present in our own right.

‘I absolutely loved my criminal practice. I represented miners at the time of the miners’ strike in the 80s; also printers and seafarers during their strikes. The question was: were they being criminalised for being on strike, did they have the right to picket and demonstrate? I also did gross indecency cases, in which I came to specialise. Word got round that I would ask outrageous questions of the police officers and get the jury to laugh at the answers; when it did, I would know we were winning. I also did inquest cases, deaths in custody. I thought I had the best job in the world – until I found an even better one!’

Emily stood unsuccessfully for Parliament in 2001. ‘I got a taste for it and realised what I was missing. I wish I had started earlier. On the night of the 2001 count there was a moment when it looked like I might even win. I had to phone my clerk to warn him. His words were unrepeatable.’ She began to wind her practice down, especially as she was looking after her family of three; to take time off between big cases; and to deepen her involvement in political causes. She became an MP at the 2005 general election for Islington South and Finsbury and gave up her practice. One of her first notable acts that same year was to play a leading role in the rebellion against PM Tony Blair’s proposals in the wake of 7/7 for detention without charge in cases of terrorism for 90 days. It was the Blair government’s first ever defeat. ‘I just couldn’t agree with it. But if you are seen as rebellious you are not going to get jobs.’ She focused early on climate change and housing. Her first foot on the promotional ladder came when she was given a role in the Energy Department and attended the Copenhagen summit in 2009.

Labour’s years in opposition began in 2010, since when Emily has held eight shadow positions, including Foreign Affairs, International Trade and Defence, plus her stints as Shadow AG. ‘I enjoy the Parliamentary cut and thrust. I am doing more media. Legal training fits you to pick up a brief and get on top of it, ask questions, get into detail, challenge, live by your wits, work with stakeholders. Also, I feel completely responsible for whatever I do. Every day is different and interesting; I am an advocate for people, painting the pictures that describe their predicaments; I can be the voice of the young, abused woman; the overcrowded family; and the struggling local shopkeeper. I meet people, listen to what they have to say; see what motivates them. When I walk round my constituency, people come up and hug me. In contrast I once saw a man I had defended sitting in a cafe. I greeted him cheerfully. He blanked me. He didn’t want to be reminded – even though he had been acquitted.

‘As an MP you get to change the law. Parliament needs people who are not intimidated by legislation. There aren’t enough lawyers in Parliament. I used to say this as a joke, but it’s true.’

Advice to those starting out? ‘I don’t feel able to lecture anyone. It’s more difficult today than it was for me when I was starting out. I had a grant for university and Bar School. I was never in debt. There was work. Although I was rough round the edges and had no connections and no polish, I was able to work and squat in chambers until I got my tenancy. I could live on legal aid. When I became an MP I took a pay cut.

‘But I will say: don’t go into practice unless you can answer yes to the question, “Do I really love it?” The Bar has a way of taking over your life. For me, being a barrister was like having a jealous boyfriend: the night you’d try to do something else you’d get sent a very large brief and have to cancel all your plans.’