Analysis: How have letter and spirit of the law become so divorced?

As I drifted around, I could hear several discussions on golfing outings but, with others, the talk was the latest legal chit-chat. None of this was surprising as I was at the reception to mark the centenary of the Scottish Land Court.

As has been recorded, the origins of this august body lie in the crofting communities but now – several tranches of hefty legislation later – it has a big workload and covers all land issues and disputes in Scotland.

In the early days, the Land Court would go around the Highlands and Islands, meeting in villages halls and rural schools to carry out its legal duties. Most of this important work was carried out in a low-key manner with the chairman, a law lord, supported by lay members, not only with practical crofting experience but also one lay member always had to have the Gaelic for occasions when the dispute was carried out in the native language.

All very democratic and, other than one of the chairmen having a penchant for wearing his grand legal robes at all times and a propensity for reminding the plaintiffs of his importance, the show ran smoothly.

The Land Court’s main base is now in George Street in Edinburgh and it is there that attempts are made to untangle the weighty land disputes of the day.

And it was in the courtroom that was acting in a temporary capacity as a drinks reception area that, as the informal conversations spiralled into depths with which I am unfamiliar, I thought of rather a simple question I might pose.

In a loud voice that would reverberate around the room, I could ask what if the floor collapsed under the weight of the collective intelligence within this room and all perished – would the world be a better or worse place?

They would not know that I had a hypothetical rider to this simple question and that was that the gentlemen of the press – because there were several of us present – would have quietly shimmered across the room and out the door just before the calamity occurred.

Someone would have to report the incident, after all.

I should also say that my innocent query was not born of any malice or personal animosity. It was, and is, an innocent method of deciding the importance or otherwise of a section of society to that society.

It can be asked of any grouping. Taking a simple example it might be asked of a group of farmers and the retort might be “do you like being hungry?”

Or, if tried in a room full of “want-to-be” minor celebrities, the answer might well fulfil all your prejudices.

Back to the Land Court and the question; to be honest I did try it out in a small group at the reception and it was met with a mixture of scorn, incredulity and non-comprehension, all of which might be summarised as “You cannot be serious”.

A more thoughtful and philosophical response I would imagine would go along the lines of humanity having a streak of disputatiousness in its bones and a superior body such as a court is needed to sort out the arguments.

On a similar line, a response pointing out that some sections of humanity have a tendency towards greed and avarice, and the court helps to provide the balance between those that have and want more and those that are just trying to hang onto what they have.

Given answers along those lines, I would be rushing around to provide the girders to hold the edifice up and save all the worthy individuals who only minutes before might have been plunging in my imagination into obscurity.

But then I ponder how ponderous and obtuse many of the high-profile cases now are and how an industry has developed in translating the law as it stands

So, as far as I am concerned the Scottish Land Court is a necessary force for good but it is hampered by the unnecessarily complex legislation with which it now has to deal.