One of the strengths of our constitutional system is that it divides power between different institutions. Parliament makes the law. The police investigate crime. Prosecutors bring cases before the courts. Judges decide guilt and impose sentence. Each has a distinct role.

That is why I sometimes feel uneasy when politicians publicly state what sentence a defendant should receive before the court has imposed one. Even in cases that provoke widespread anger, sentencing remains a judicial function. The judge must consider the evidence, the law, sentencing guidelines, aggravating and mitigating factors, and any relevant reports before reaching a decision.

There is nothing improper about a politician arguing that Parliament should increase the maximum penalty for certain offences or reform an area of criminal law. That is precisely what legislators are elected to do. Equally, they may express sympathy for victims or call for a review of the legal framework.

What seems more difficult constitutionally is when the focus shifts from the law itself to the outcome of a particular case still before the courts. Until sentencing has taken place, judicial proceedings are not yet complete. Public statements urging a specific sentence, or announcing correspondence intended to influence those responsible for the process, risk creating the impression—whether intended or not—that political pressure is being brought to bear on an independent judiciary.

The independence of the courts is not merely a privilege for judges. It is a protection for every citizen. It means that decisions are made according to law rather than popularity, media campaigns, or political pressure. That principle matters just as much in cases that attract public outrage as it does in those that pass largely unnoticed.

A mature constitutional democracy depends not only on the independence of each branch of government, but also on each recognising the limits of its own authority. Respect for those boundaries is one of the quiet foundations of the rule of law.