Today I am also turning a spotlight onto a courtroom drama involving one of the UK’s most polarising public figures — Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, better known by his alias Tommy Robinson, was back before the Court of Appeal — this time not for breaching a reporting restriction or jeopardising a criminal trial, but for something that takes us into even more complex legal territory.
His current 18-month sentence relates to contempt of court arising from a homemade documentary film — one he published online in defiance of existing legal orders and containing material the courts had already determined to be false. It’s a case that tests the limits of personal grievance, propaganda, and the rule of law.
What Was the Contempt This Time?
Robinson’s video, published online and widely distributed through his networks, revisited a previous set of legal proceedings in which he had already been found to have misrepresented key facts. Despite that finding, and despite existing court orders that made clear such commentary was restricted, he returned to the topic — reasserting claims that the court had concluded were false.
That’s critical. Contempt of court isn’t just about interfering with a live trial. It also includes willfully breaching court orders and undermining the authority of the judiciary. In this case, Robinson knew the boundaries. He crossed them deliberately.
And he did so after prior warnings, prior proceedings, and a suspended sentence for earlier misconduct. This wasn’t a mistake. It was a pattern.
The Appeal: Mental Health, Segregation, and Sentencing
Robinson’s legal team focused on the conditions of his incarceration — particularly the extended segregation — and argued that the impact on his mental health made the sentence excessive. They raised his diagnoses of ADHD and complex PTSD and claimed his situation amounted to inhuman or degrading treatment under Article 3 of the ECHR.
But this appeal doesn’t occur in a vacuum. Just weeks ago, his judicial review application challenging these very same conditions was rejected. The High Court found that the segregation was necessary to protect him from credible threats and that the prison had made adequate adjustments — including access to a laptop, reading material, extended calls, and regular medical care.
It’s hard to imagine the Court of Appeal reaching a different conclusion, especially when those findings were made so recently and with full evidence on the record.
The Law: Why This Still Matters
Contempt of court is not a technical offence. It’s about maintaining public confidence in the rule of law. When someone repeatedly, deliberately, and publicly breaches legal orders — especially while framing themselves as a victim of political suppression — it becomes more than a personal issue. It becomes a constitutional one.
Robinson’s case isn’t just about speech. It’s about the legitimacy of courts to enforce their own orders — a cornerstone of any functioning legal system.
Context: Counter-Extremism Measures Are on the Horizon
This is all playing out at a time when the UK government is consulting on expanding counter-extremism powers. Proposals include broader definitions of “serious disruption,” enhanced civil restrictions (like SDPOs), and new frameworks for dealing with coordinated radicalisation or misinformation.
Robinson’s conduct — making provocative films, spreading false claims about court processes, and encouraging public mistrust — may not yet fall under terrorism legislation. But it is precisely the kind of behaviour future policy may be aimed at addressing.
This appeal won’t rewrite that trajectory. If anything, it may accelerate it.
A Pattern, Not a One-Off
It’s also important to remember that this is far from Robinson’s first brush with the law. His criminal record spans a range of offences — from violent disorder to identity fraud. He has been convicted for assault, for using someone else’s passport to enter the United States, and for previous contempt of court offences, including the high-profile incident outside Leeds Crown Court which nearly caused a trial to collapse.
In short: this isn’t a case of a well-meaning activist tripping over obscure legal rules. It’s a deliberate, consistent disregard for the law — often framed as a political stand, but repeatedly adjudicated as criminal wrongdoing. The courts are no longer dealing with isolated breaches. They are responding to a pattern of escalating defiance.
Out of Time — and Out of Grounds
There’s another procedural hurdle here that shouldn’t be overlooked: the appeal is out of time. Robinson’s legal team needed to seek permission to appeal late, adding yet another burden to an already weak case. The Court of Appeal expects strong justification for such delays — and “changing circumstances” in custody rarely meet that bar.
More importantly, mental ill health is not, in itself, a ground of appeal against sentence. It might be relevant at the point of sentencing, as part of mitigation. But once the sentence is handed down — particularly a custodial sentence for contempt — the appellate court is not in the business of substituting its own judgment based on evolving prison conditions or subjective health impacts. In my opinion, even if this had been raised at sentencing, it’s unlikely it would have materially altered the outcome. The contempt was clear, repeated, and deliberate — and courts aren’t in the habit of rewarding persistent defiance.
My Conclusion: The Sentence Will Stand
The sentence imposed was not about Robinson’s political views. It was about his repeated, deliberate contempt for the courts. He was warned. He was previously sanctioned. He chose to double down — and in doing so, made the case for a custodial sentence stronger than ever.
Given the prior failed judicial review, the proportionality of the prison’s response, and the wider public interest in deterring this kind of behaviour, I do not believe the Court of Appeal will reduce or overturn his sentence.
This isn’t about silencing dissent. It’s about defending legal order.