What is rarely explained is how the case will succeed, what happens to your money if it fails, or what it means to “win”.
Crowdfunded litigation is now routine in British public life. A Modern Law Review study of 413 judicial review campaigns found that crowdfunding has opened up the courts to groups seeking litigation as part of broader political campaigns. That can be valuable. Judicial review is expensive and unsuccessful claimants must pay the government’s costs as well as their own costs. For many ordinary citizens, crowdfunding is a practical way to challenge the state.
But the same study shows a problem. Donors can give for political or emotional reasons, without understanding the legal merits of the case, its prospects or possible impact. Judicial review is often narrow and technical, and many never reach a full hearing. The result is a gap between what donors want and what the courts can do.
The Good Law Project (GLP) shows how wide the gap is. Has won significant cases. In one case, the Good Law Project presented findings to the Supreme Court that a pandemic contract was awarded to Public First through biased and non-transparent methods.
But critics say it also frames a significant defeat as a victory. In 2022, after raising almost £400,000 to challenge the appointment of the Covid era, advising donors that it had succeeded, even though the court ruled that its own claims had failed entirely; only its co-claimant, the Runnymede Trust, succeeded, on one ground. GLP founder Jolyon Maugham called the loss “technical”. But the point is fundamental: the court held that GLP lacked standing to bring such a claim. This risk may have been clear to the donors at the outset, and the results may have been communicated.
GLP is not alone. Crowdfunding is used across the political spectrum, and similar questions arise when individuals, rather than established campaign groups, solicit donations.
Crowdfunded litigation is not limited to judicial review or to established organizations such as GLP. Individuals also use public donations to pursue other processes, including against public figures.
In 2019 Marcus Ball crowdfunded the personal prosecution of Boris Johnson over the “£350 million a week” Brexit claim. The Supreme Court quashed the summons, describing the prosecution as a “nuisance”. Reports of how much Ball has raised range from £200,000 to more than £570,000, and say he has spent more than he raised and owed. Their fundraising page tells them the money can pay for marketing, salaries and expenses, and directs donors to report spending. The campaign has raised questions about donor protection and value for money.
The issue, then, is not a total lack of disclosure, but whether the donor understands the obstacles, and what the money will ultimately be spent on.
Do these rules adequately protect donors from campaigns with false claims and flimsy reasons? Charities must follow the Code of Fundraising Practice, which prohibits misleading appeals, including omissions and implied claims that donors may take literally. But the code is not official, and its arrival through non-charitable court groups is uncertain. The Public Law Project has issued a voluntary code for crowdfunded litigators, including principles to ensure the public is not misled. While these should be benchmarks, voluntary standards only bind those who choose to follow them.