Introduction
Magistrates' courts are the backbone of the criminal justice system in England and Wales. Around 90–95% of all criminal cases begin and end in these courts. They deal with everything from minor assaults and theft to preliminary hearings for more serious offences. On the surface, the system looks efficient, accessible, and community-driven. But after years of watching the process up close, both as a law student and a working professional, I have come to a firm conclusion: the magistrates' court, in its current form, is no longer fit for purpose.
In this extended post, I want to take a deep dive into the many reasons I believe it's time for radical reform. This is not a casual critique. It is a call to professionalise, to modernise, and to align the system with the basic expectations of fairness and legal integrity that underpin our justice system. I want to examine conviction and appeal rates, public trust, biases—especially in lay magistrates—and real-world case examples that reveal a deeper procedural unfairness than most people realise.
Part I: The Numbers That Should Make Us Uneasy
Let’s begin with something simple: conviction rates. According to data from 2017–2018, the conviction rate in magistrates' courts was approximately 84.8%. In some years, it has been even higher. That number alone might sound like an indicator of effectiveness. But when you compare it to the conviction rate in the Crown Court (where legally trained judges and juries preside), a very different picture emerges. Crown Court conviction rates tend to hover around 70%.
So why are people more likely to be convicted in magistrates' courts? Is it simply that cases are more straightforward? Or is there something structurally different about how justice is delivered at this level?
Between June 2019 and March 2020, there were over 1,200 successful appeals against decisions made by magistrates. Appeals in the criminal system are notoriously hard to win. So if over a thousand were overturned in under a year, that should alarm us. It suggests not only that mistakes are being made, but that those mistakes are frequent and consequential.
Part II: Who Are the Magistrates?
Magistrates are volunteers. They are not legally trained. They sit in panels of three, guided by a legal adviser who assists with points of law. These individuals are meant to represent the local community and bring their common sense to bear on issues of crime and justice. In theory, this promotes community engagement and democratic legitimacy. In practice, it often creates problems.
First, despite attempts to diversify, the magistracy remains dominated by white, middle-class, retired professionals. Many have backgrounds in the police, civil service, or military. These are not neutral identities. They bring with them assumptions about authority, behaviour, and credibility—assumptions that skew justice.
Second, and perhaps more worryingly, there are persistent concerns about unconscious bias. I have sat in courtrooms and heard magistrates refer to police officers as "our officers." I am not the only one. This language is not only inappropriate, it reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of the role of the judiciary in an adversarial system. Magistrates are not on the side of the prosecution, nor are they meant to feel loyalty to the police. But in practice, that boundary is often blurred.
Part III: Structural Problems and Procedural Fairness
The ECHR, through Article 6, guarantees everyone the right to a fair trial. This includes the right to a hearing before an independent and impartial tribunal. The very nature of the lay magistracy challenges this standard. When decisions are being made by people without legal training, without full awareness of the standards of proof, without rigorous understanding of admissibility or procedure, the system begins to feel less like a court and more like an informal arbitration.
Consider the example of a defendant accused of public order offences after a political protest. The police offer limited evidence—perhaps just one officer’s statement. There is no video, no corroboration. The defence argues that the behaviour was within the bounds of lawful protest. In a Crown Court, this might lead to an acquittal. In the magistrates' court, conviction is far more likely.
In one publicly documented case, a man was convicted in a magistrates' court for failing to comply with a dispersal order. Upon appeal, it was shown that the dispersal order itself was not properly issued under the law. The entire prosecution should never have proceeded. Yet three magistrates, advised by a qualified legal adviser, failed to identify this flaw.
Case Analysis I: The Protester at the Train Station
One of the most troubling cases I found involved a young man arrested for breach of the peace during a peaceful protest at a train station. The Crown’s evidence consisted of one officer’s testimony. There was no video footage, no independent witnesses, and the defendant had remained calm throughout the interaction. His only "offence" was refusing to move when asked—an act which he claimed was a legitimate form of protest.
The magistrates convicted him. They accepted the police officer's version of events without question. When the case went to appeal, the conviction was overturned with scathing comments from the judge about the lack of corroboration and the flawed application of public order legislation.
The most chilling part? The magistrates had called the police officer "our officer" in open court. It wasn’t just a slip of the tongue. It was a window into the mindset that shaped their entire approach.
Case Analysis II: The Shoplifting Case with a Missing Witness
In another case, a woman was accused of shoplifting from a high street store. The store detective provided a statement, but failed to attend court. The prosecution relied solely on the CCTV footage—which was grainy and inconclusive. The woman insisted it was a mistake, that she had paid at a nearby self-checkout and simply forgotten to bag one item. She was legally represented, and her solicitor made a clear argument about the lack of evidence.
The magistrates convicted her anyway. No witness was cross-examined. No questions were asked about why the Crown had chosen to proceed without the only eyewitness. It felt like they had already made up their minds before the hearing began.
Case Analysis III: The Driving Offence That Wasn’t
Perhaps the clearest example of procedural injustice came in a driving offence case. A man was charged with driving without insurance. He had, in fact, been insured—but his name had been incorrectly logged in the insurer’s system. His solicitor produced a printed confirmation of the policy, emails from the insurer, and even an official letter admitting the administrative error.
The Crown still prosecuted, and the magistrates still convicted. They said the man "should have checked his documents more carefully." The appeal was immediate and successful, but not before the man had lost his licence, his job, and thousands of pounds in income.
These are not isolated incidents. They are part of a broader pattern.
Part IV: The False Economy of 'Free Justice'
One of the more common arguments against professionalising the magistrates’ bench is that it’s cost-effective. Magistrates are volunteers, and while they’re supported by legally trained advisers and clerks, they are not salaried in the way judges are. This leads to the assertion that the lay magistracy saves the Ministry of Justice millions of pounds every year.
But this view is both short-sighted and naive. When wrongful convictions occur, the financial and social costs are enormous. Defendants may lose their jobs, homes, or children. They may incur legal costs to fund an appeal. They suffer mental health consequences and long-term reputational damage. And when these cases are finally overturned—sometimes months later—the burden shifts to the appellate courts, public compensation schemes, and welfare systems.
Justice on the cheap is not justice at all. And when the system fails, it fails on every level—financial, procedural, ethical.
Part V: Lay Bias and Institutional Culture
Bias in the magistracy doesn’t always look like overt prejudice. Sometimes it’s in the way a defendant’s accent is received. Sometimes it’s in body language—eye rolls, sighs, dismissive comments whispered to a fellow magistrate. Sometimes it’s in the assumption that a police officer is always telling the truth.
Magistrates receive some diversity and bias training, but the impact is patchy. There is no consistent national standard. And without full-time judicial oversight, problematic attitudes can persist for years.
In one instance I witnessed, a magistrate expressed concern that the defendant was “very articulate” for someone “from that part of the city" - they were talking about Hackney. It was not just patronising. It was revealing. This kind of comment isn’t challenged in a system that lacks robust accountability.
Part VI: What Would a Professionalised System Look Like?
A reformed system wouldn’t necessarily eliminate all existing magistrates. Some might retrain and become full-time or part-time district judges. Others might take on new advisory roles. But the presiding decision-maker in every criminal case would be a qualified, salaried, and independently trained judge.
These judges would be required to write judgments—reasoned, documented decisions that could be reviewed and appealed in a transparent way. They would receive ongoing legal education, as is already standard in the Crown Court. And most importantly, they would be accountable to a professional body, subject to review and discipline when they fall short.
We already have District Judges (Magistrates’ Court). They are used for more complex or sensitive cases and sit alone. They are often praised by defence lawyers and prosecutors alike for their fairness, clarity, and knowledge of the law. Expanding this model to cover all cases would be a logical next step.
Part VII: The Public’s Quiet Disillusionment
Perhaps one of the most troubling aspects of the current magistrates' court system is how little the general public knows about it. Most people never attend a hearing unless they are directly involved. And those who do often walk away confused or disillusioned.
When justice feels arbitrary, it ceases to be justice. I’ve spoken to defendants who believed they were in a “real court” only once they reached the Crown Court. The formality, the language, the demeanour of the judge—everything felt more serious, more considered.
This is not to say magistrates are always careless or biased. Many genuinely want to do the right thing. But they are being asked to perform a role that demands more than goodwill. It demands expertise, independence, and a deep commitment to legal precision.
Conclusion: It’s Time to Choose
We face a choice. We can continue pretending that the magistrates' courts as they stand are fair, efficient, and accessible. Or we can acknowledge that the system, while well-intentioned, is riddled with structural flaws.
We can choose to defend tradition for tradition’s sake. Or we can choose to build a better future—one where justice isn’t a postcode lottery, where outcomes don’t depend on whether your bench was having a good day, where every person is tried by someone qualified to understand and apply the law.
I know which system I want to practise in. I know which system I want my clients, my community, and my children to live under. One that sees justice not as something to be rushed, economised, or guessed at—but as a solemn, skilled responsibility.
The time for professionalising the magistracy isn’t tomorrow. It’s long overdue.