Legally, can Holyrood "block" Brexit?

"100 days on from the referendum and with up to six months until the triggering of Article 50 it is time the government got serious and put our economic interests and membership of the single market at the front of their negotiating plans. With a clear majority in the Scottish Parliament for retaining membership of the single market - expressed as recently as last week - it is difficult to‎ envisage the circumstances in which the Scottish Parliament would give consent to any legislation that did not guarantee this."

So said Nicola Sturgeon's Bexit minister, Mike Russell. But what did he mean? What precisely can and can't Holyrood do, in resisting the many-layered legal complexities of Brexit? Several souls have asked me about this other the last day or two. So here's the lightweight primer on the law. Brace yourself. It gets a bit tricky.

First thing's first: Holyrood has no legal power to veto or block Brexit. Start with the basics. Under Schedule 5 of the Scotland Act, foreign affairs – including Britain’s relations with the EU – are matters reserved to Westminster and Whitehall. Under section 29 of the legislation, Holyrood is prohibited from passing its own laws concerning nuclear weapons, defence, and so on. Legally, these are Westminster's purview. And because they are Westminster's purview, MPs and the UK government, don't need the Scottish Parliament's permission to alter the law on reserved matters. 

But there are some kinds of Westminster legislation which do require the nod from MSPs. This isn't a matter of strict law - but of constitutional convention. This convention was set out in section two of the 2016 Scotland Act. "It is recognised that the Parliament of the United Kingdom will not normally legislate with regard to devolved matters without the consent of the Scottish Parliament," it said. As I pointed out at the time, you can feel the caveats in the statutory language: "normally", "recognised." Whitehall's clear view is that this section doesn't limit the sovereignty of the London parliament to make or unmake any law whatever, irrespective of Holyrood's complaints.  

But this statutory recognition includes only part of the convention. The UK government has consistently recognised that Holyrood's consent is necessary, if Westminster wants to change the legislative competence of the parliament, or to add or subtract from the executive competence of Scottish ministers. One good example of that was the 2016 Act itself. David Mundell recognised that the Edinburgh parliament had the right to refuse the new powers, and a vote was taken. 

This convention proves some - very limited - constitutional security for Holyrood from the prospect of Westminster abusing its sovereignty to reverse its decisions in devolved areas. But it doesn't apply beyond that. Holyrood’s consent clearly is not necessary to activate Article 50. Only politics can prevent the hard Brexiters in the Tory government from dragging us out of the single market.

Through some creative  lawyering, you might just be able to cobble together an argument and get a case up on its feet.  In the High Court in Belfast, litigants are attempting precisely this. But their chances of victory are remote. The court case is really about boosting the political salience of the situation in Northern Ireland. As someone tweeted as me, in response to my Times column this morning, if Scotland counts for "nothing" in Brexit Britain, how much the worse for Ulster and its people? 

So that's the bottom line. Holyrood's consent is only needed if Westminster wants to legislate about devolved matters. But even then -- failure to give consent can be overriden by the exercise of parliamentary sovereignty. So what, then, can Mike Russell have meant when he said Holyrood might refuse consent for Mrs May's Great Repeal Bill? And what effect would refusing consent have anyway?

You've got to recognise that EU law is everywhere in UK law, and it isn't neatly packaged in one big book of rules, embossed in gold and bound in red buckram, easily tossed onto a bonfire. EU norms are enshrined in a dizzying array of documents, from the European Communities Act 1972, to ordinary legislation, to regulations, to the Scotland Act itself. In terms of UK constitutional law, some areas principally regulated by EU law are devolved, others not. The UK Equality Act 2010, for example, gives effect to European non-discrimination directives -- and is for the main part, a reserved matter. Holyrood can't amend or repeal it. 

Fishing, on the other hand, is only very partially reserved to the London parliament. But to ensure Scottish Parliamentarians didn't go voyaging on stranger tides, in 1998, MPs decided to constrain the new parliament's powers. Section 29 of the Scotland Act requires all Scottish legislation comply with the rights set out in the European Convention on Human Rights -- and EU law too. That's why, for example, the Scottish Whisky Association were able to take the SNP's minimum alcohol pricing legislation to court. The liquor manufacturers argued that the legislation interfered, unlawfully, with the European single market, by discriminating against producers able to pump out plonk on the cheap, by requiring them to sell their products at an inflated cost.  The requirement to tender for ferry services is another -- controversial  -- example of EU law at work.

The critical point is -- the Great Repeal Bill seems likely to stretch across reserved and devolved issues simultaneously. Some parts of it will require the Scottish Parliament's consent, others not. But as Professor Colm O'Cinneide, from UCL recognised, the legislative consent motion before Holyrood "may have to be drafted in broad terms, and of course will need to cover EU law provisions" written into Scotland's devolution settlement.

Which is where Mike Russell's "block" comes back in. Under the Scotland Act, Holyrood must obey EU laws, on fishing, agriculture, non-discrimination. If the PM wants to strip out those rules or to change Holyrood’s powers – she will need to secure the consent of a majority of MSPs. As things stand, it is perfectly conceivable that Scottish politicians will decide to defy Westminster. Mrs May would then have to decide whether to ignore their objections, riding roughshod over constitutional principles -- or to respect them, and leave Holyrood subject to EU law, but paradoxically, outside the European Union.

It isn’t necessarily obvious, however, why our parliamentarians would refuse their consent. It isn’t the Scotland Act restrictions which guarantees the rights of Scots to move freely, and to work and resettle across Europe – but the UK’s dying EU membership. Many EU rules are, in principle, about sharing burdens as well as benefits, while keeping an eye out for backsliders, free riders and chancers. Every state, for example, is likely to be inclined to discriminate in favour of its domestic industries in the economy, and to cultivate a more unfree market. EU single market rules seek to eliminate this across the whole bloc. 

But why keep the rules, when you aren’t part of the club? Unless the requirement to adhere to EU law was stripped out of the Scotland Act - we'd be looking at carrying their burdens, without seeing their benefits. An invidious position, no? There are a few more and less convincing answers to this objection. The symbolism of such a vote in Holyrood is obviously significant. Most folk won't follow the legal niceties of what the consent procedure actually represents. It will, inevitably, be seen in simpler, more political terms. Does Holyrood capitulate or not in the teeth of the Tories' haughty insistence that Brexit is their baby, and it will be midwived into monstrous shape only on their terms? That is how it is likely to be seen - presented - and understood by many.

For the SNP, retaining EU law might also represent a statement of intent about an independent Scotland’s future inside the Union. Why radically diverge from EU rules, when you want to join the club, sooner rather than later? Shadowing (some) of the regulation could be seen as a significant gesture of this kind. But you could do this, without making it a legal requirement to legislate in a way which is compatible with EU principles. And let's be honest: eliminating EU regulation would create opportunities as well as challenges, to take policy positions prohibited by single market rules.  

Alan Page, Professor of Public Law at the University of Dundee, has identified another - slightly trickier - issue with the Great Repeal wheeze, in his short paper for the Holyrood committee scrutinising Brexit. The key point is identified in paragraph 13 of Professor Page's note.  He is concerned about the possibility of UK government ministers disapplying and altering EU law concerning devolved matters in Scotland, without any reference Westminster, or to the Edinburgh government or Parliament. Law is made in many ways. One important source is what is called "subordinate legislation" - generally powers exercised by ministers in the government, often with lighter scrutiny from MPs than full-blown Act of Parliament. Mrs May's government seems likely to use this tool to prune the EU law which applies in Britain. But there's a problem. Professor Page:

"At the moment there is no requirement of the Scottish Parliament’s consent to UK subordinate legislation transposing EU obligations in the devolved areas; nor is the Parliament routinely informed about such legislation. Were obligations to be transposed by UK Act of Parliament the Scottish Parliament’s consent would be required, but if they are transposed by subordinate legislation its consent is not required. The situation could thus arise in which the UK legislated extensively in areas devolved to Scotland without seeking the consent of the Scottish Parliament as there would be no requirement of its consent in relation to subordinate legislation altering the effects of EU law in the devolved areas. In my view, this represents a significant potential gap in the framework of Scottish parliamentary control over UK law making in the devolved areas, which the Scottish Parliament should be alert to the need to close should UK Ministers be given the power to revise EU law in the devolved areas."

If Mrs May's Great Repeal Bill laid the foundations for this kind of arbitrary mode of decision making, without reference to devolved institutions, the Scottish Government would understandably hit the roof, and refuse to give their blessing to her Bill. They would be right to do so. From a political perspective, all of this is pungent. Legally, however, Holyrood can really only stage a weak, rear-guard action on the Brexit fallout. So long as we remain tethered to the UK government, we're tethered to its fate, outside of the European Union. Despite Mr Russell’s fighting talk, the legal scope for Holyrood to make Brexit mischief remains very limited. As for the political opportunities? Well: they're a different matter entirely.

♫ One more sleep til Christmas ♫

With a wee piece in the National this morning on yesterday's minimum alcohol pricing decision, I hang up my wig for the year. I'm done. Just one more sleep till Christmas. The cider is mulling. Great trenches have been hacked from a fat, plumptious pork pie. The Muppets have been deployed, and Marley and Marley are summoned. 

2015 has been a splendid, but also a curious, and sometimes disorienting year. In the wake of the general election, I wrote a lengthy piece for the Drouth on how that remarkable election put an axe to the root of a great deal of what we once took for granted in Scottish politics. 

"Much of what once was solid in Scottish public life has melted into air. Our politics, which for so long seemed dominated by steady and dependable assumptions, has become strangely contemporary. The old maps and charts give out. Poles have reversed, polls have reversed, and the compass doesn’t understand its points."

There are two bereavements here. Labour's collapse must be the subject of grief for its hard-working and committed supporters. But what has generally gone unnoticed is how unprecedented success challenges - and challenges quite fundamentally - the outlook of longer term SNP supporters.

"The SNP is no longer a party for losers, for outsiders, crackpots and contrarians. It is no longer a party condemned to perpetual opposition. The lifelong holder of minority opinions now finds himself in common company with a great part of the nation. The party’s core ambition – independence – has not yet secured majority support, but has been thrust into the mainstream of UK and Scottish politics for the first time in this nation’s history since the Union of 1707. Politically, this may be the source of understandable glee for Scottish Nationalists. But psychologically, we should remember the secret tie between wound and weapon. Remember that the hater is somehow invested in the object he hates, the opposition in its opponent. Scottish Labour’s humbling is at once gratifying and disturbing because it knocks through one of the structuring pillars of Scottish political life. You derive a sense of freedom from the act of destruction, but also one of anxiety. What now?"

As the end of the year approaches, I've seen nothing to suggest that we've properly come to terms with this transformation. The 2016 Holyrood election will - understandably - encourage a continuing preoccupation with the crucifixion of the Labour Party. But for the Nationalist government, 2016 will inevitably be the bringer of dramatic choices, and decisions about "taking sides in Scotland as well as taking Scotland's side." The holding position of the 2015 budget, perfectly cannily, defers most of the most dramatic choices. 

But to govern, as they say, is to choose. 2016 is Nicola Sturgeon's moment to go forth, and swither no more. The Holyrood manifesto will speak volumes. Can we expect a powerful SNP government, given an unprecedented democratic mandate to reshape Scotland, fizzing with ideas, to attack a political mission with zeal? Or will we see a re-run of 2011’s slick but policy-lite “team, record, vision” campaign? Tricky questions for the New Year. 

For today, however, all that remains is to thank you all for your attention and your visits, your many kindnesses and your comments and contributions here on Lallands Peat Worrier over the last year. I hope it has been diverting. May your puddings be well figged and your claret fine and fruity. Have a splendid Christmas, and a nourishing break.

Equal marriage and the rising sun...

Can you be certain that the sun will rise tomorrow? It will. It rose today, it rose yesterday, and the day before that. And before that. I saw it. Dawn will break tomorrow. Ah, but that's today, and yesterday. And yes, you observed the sun in the sky. But what guarantee does that give you that it will break through the clouds tomorrow? Mathematical logic doesn't require that the sun break in the east. Or breaks at all. And your senses have no evidence that it will rise on Friday, only that it sprung from the sea on Thursday. But of course it will. Of course the sun will rise. You're probably right. But logically, you can't know it for certain, that's my point.

David Hume's Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding can be a disturbing tract. Those ideas of cause and effect you take for granted, that the sun will rise tomorrow, that the impact of one billiard-ball will dislodge and move another? These aren't necessary conclusions of deductive reasoning, but are at best provisional, probable judgements based on your experiences. There are no guarantees.  This is usually referred to as the idea (and sometimes, as the problem) of induction. The bottom line: we've got to be pragmatic, and make our best guesses, appealing to our experiences and judgements, and live as if we knew the sun would come up tomorrow. Hume's observations about probability aren't limited to physical examples, but extend to predictions about folk too:

"A man who at noon leaves his purse full of gold on the pavement at Charing Cross, may as well expect that it will fly away like a feather, as that he will find it untouched an hour after. Above one half of human reasonings contain inferences of a similar nature, attended with more or less degrees of certainty proportioned to our experience of the usual conduct of mankind in such particular situations."

Certainty seems much on political vogue at the moment.  Demands for rain-or-shine predictions of the future are a staple of the constitutional debate. In yesterday's debate in Holyrood, critics of the SNP government's equal marriage proposals harped on the same string.  Sure, Mr Neil, you've written all of these safeguards for religious bodies and people in your Bill, but where are the guarantees these protections won't be subject to legal challenge and fail?

Law-making in Scotland today is subject to complex and often unpredictable pressures. This is nothing new. The Scottish Parliament isn't sovereign. Holyrood may legislate across great swathes of territory, but is bound to observe the limits of the devolution settlement, Convention rights and European Union law. Constructing the scope of Holyrood's powers under the Scotland Act isn't always straightforward and predictable. The debatable legality of the independence referendum before the section 30 order was passed being an excellent case in point.  

European Union law is also, in many respects, open to interpretation, leaving the door ajar for legal challenges to the parliament's decisions. We saw - and see - this writ large, in the imminent challenges to the legality of the SNP's flagship minimum price for alcohol policy.  For the Scottish Government, the proposals do not represent an unlawful restraint on the single European market, but a policy intervention justified on grounds of public health, whose intervention in the single market is reasonably proportional to the end sought.  The tobacco giants Sinclair Collis and Imperial Tobacco used similar legal arguments, unsuccessfully to challenge the Scottish ban on cigarette vending machines in court.  

And as those of you who have ever attempted to read a decision of the European Court of Human Rights will know, human rights law isn't a bumper book of easily implemented rules either. Despite popular perceptions to the contrary, law is rarely so determinate or straightforward, but applying the Convention can be particularly tricky. Courts have to ask, does the law engage a protected right? Does the government measure pursue a legitimate aim? Does the measure strike a fair balance between the protection of rights and of the public interest? 

Opponents cited Convention rights to challenge the fox hunting ban early in the life of the Parliament. In 2012, we saw AXA and other big insurers try to rely on property protections under Article 1 of Protocol 1 to challenge the legality of the Holyrood legislation which confirmed that pleural plaques arising as a result of exposure to asbestos represented an actionable personal injury in Scots law.  AXA lost in the UK Supreme Court. 

So what's the lesson of all of this? Is it, as John Mason, Richard Lyle and Elaine Smith suggested in yesterday's same-sex marriage debate, that parliament should tremble at the mere possibility of legal challenges, and decline to enact the Bill? Should it do so in every circumstance, or just here? Ought Holyrood not to have banned cigarette machines, allowed foxes to be hunted down and torn to bits by dogs, declined to offer a remedy to those who have been negligently exposed to asbestos - or have attempted to introduce the independence referendum - for fear of a committed litigant, who might attempt, however unsuccessfully, to challenge the law? 

Because that committed litigant is invariably lying in wait, whatever the legal measure you're discussing, dreaming up ways to shape the flexible legal material of EU and ECHR law into an arguable case to put before the court.  That's the nature of the beast.  That's always Holyrood's basic predicament when making laws. To demand certainty where achieving cast-iron certainty is impossible, and then to cite that uncertainty as grounds not to pass this legislation, is cowardice, wrapped up in quibble and constitutional illiteracy.  It is to take the worst possible lesson from Hume's philosophy. If there is no reassurance which could possibly persuade you, no reasonable prediction based on good evidence which you would accept, you're beyond talking to.

If you don't want to endorse same-sex marriage because you feel Yahweh's burning gaze on your back, of because you feel the Natural Law demands it, by all means say so, and vote so. As a Godless tyke, I can't sympathise much with Roseanna Cunningham's explanation for her No vote yesterday, but characteristically, Roseanna gives you her reasons bluntly, without legal pettifogging. That's creditable, in its way. But the hyperventilated fears expressed by Mason, Lyle and Smith yesterday are not. The SNP MSP Marco Biagi put it best yesterday:

"Above all, we must not be drawn by the remote and hypothetical challenge to religious freedom to such an extent that we overlook the very tangible, very real and very much on-going violation of personal freedom that is the exclusion of people of same-sex attraction from expressing their love through marriage, which is the institution that our society considers to be the paragon of commitment."

"...after which they returned again to the transportations and hangings.."

Today, the Scottish Court Service has published recommendations which will, if enacted, substantially centralise the work of justice in our courts.  SCS proposes to curtail the circuit of the High Court of Justiciary, shutting and merging a substantial number of sheriff and justice of the peace courts, and limiting sheriff and jury trials to sixteen cities and towns.

The motto justice delayed is justice denied will surely be familiar to all of you. We ought to think seriously about geographies of justice too.  The cuts in the SCS budget are stark.  A 20% real terms cut in its operational budget, and a reduction in capital spending from £20 to £4 million, according to its Chief Executive. Even so, it is important not to lose sight of the importance and value of "street-corner" courts, closer to the vital forces of the communities they serve, accessible for those who have gone or been taken to law, who are able to bear witness in their own towns and centres.

Practical and effective access to justice means more than just funding legal aid (and as we know, that too is being trimmed to the bone both north and south of the border).  By declining to send judges out on circuit, you oblige witnesses, complainers and juries to do so. As the Law Society has noted, this is not without its difficulties.

For some queer reason, the report reminded me of this section of Lord Henry Cockburn's Memorials of His Time (1779 - 1854), where he discusses the circuits taken by the judges of the High Court of Justiciary in his day.  They gave it a long of swank in those days. No quiet entrances for them. Horses. Soldiers. Macers. Processions. Trumpets and drums. Law's grandeur and presence in the community, noisily declared in cloth and sound.  However, life on the circuit lacked some of the consolations of home. Cockburn relates:

"At Edinburgh, the old judges had a practice at which even their barbaric age used to shake its head. They had always wine and biscuits on the bench, when the business was clearly to be protracted beyond the usual dinner hour.  The modern judges - those I mean who were made after 1800, never gave in to this; but with those of the preceding generation, some of whom lasted several years after 1800, it was quite common. Black bottles of strong port were set down beside them on the bench, with glasses, caraffes of water, tumblers, and biscuits; and this without the slightest attempt at concealment.  

The refreshment was generally allowed to stand untouched, and as if despised, for a short time, during which their Lordships seemed to be intent only on their notes.  But in a little, some water was poured into the tumbler, and sipped quietly as if merely to sustain nature.  Then a few drops of wine were ventured upon, but only with the water: till at last patience could endure no longer, and a full bumper of the pure black element was tossed over; after which the thing went on regularly, and there was a comfortable munching and quaffing, to the great envy of the parched throats in the gallery.

The strong-headed stood it tolerably well, but it told, plainly enough, upon the feeble. Not that the ermine was absolutely intoxicated, but it was certainly sometimes affected.  This however was so ordinary with these sages, that it really made little apparent change upon them.  It was not very perceptible at a distance; and they all acquired the habit of sitting and looking judicial enough, even when their bottles had reached the lowest ebb.  

This open-court refection did not prevail, so far as I ever saw, at Circuits.  It took a different form there.  The temptation of the inn frequently produced a total stoppage of business, during which all concerned - judges and counsel, clerks, jurymen and provosts, had a jolly dinner; after which they returned again to the transportations and hangings.  I have seen this done often.  It was a common remark that the step of the evening procession was far less true to the music than that of the morning."

I suppose not all judicial innovations are to be despised. *Hic*.

Scots drugs deaths increase by 563% & 623%, but for who?

Last week, the General Register Office for Scotland published its grim annual statistics on the number of drug-related deaths in Scotland in 2011. BBC Newsnicht took the findings for its topic last night, focussing on the much-increased incidence of the drug methadone being implicated in deaths.  I don't know about you, but I often find big data shots like this are difficult to digest.  On the telly, the demands of brevity make for fleeting graphics, glossed issues and compressed conversations.  The statistical releases themselves are a remorseless parade of cross-referenced columns, less than easily navigated.  I thought it might be of interest, therefore, to pull out some of the information published by the government statisticians, and re-render it in more easily intelligible forms. 

Obvious questions include: how many people are dying? Is the number increasing or decreasing? Chipping below the total number of deaths, are there changes in the gender and the age groups of those who are dying? Of the dizzying array of noxious and intoxicating substances out there for sampling, which ones are most implicated in most deaths, and how have these figures changed over time? I hope to provide sketchy, preliminary answers to all of these questions, but first, the total butcher's bill.  The General Register Office statistics cover the last fifteen years, during which period...

Like a great many of the statistics which have interested me in the past - imprisonment, homicide, suicide - Scottish men represent the overwhelming majority of recorded drug-related deaths.  Since 1996, the number of men dying has more than doubled (from a low of 179 deaths in 1997, to a high of 461 in 2008).  For women, by contrast, a look across the same period shows that a 1997 low of 45 deaths has increased to a high of 155 last year, with an upwards spike in 2008 which has seen over 100 women die drug-related deaths each year to date.

And showing increases between 1996 and 2011, by gender.

And women...

Feckless, raving, drug-addled youth. It's a familiar image, likely reinforced by the coverage given to some tragic instances of very young folk, perishing. The statistics, by contrast, show a rather different picture.  Fifteen years ago, the overwhelming majority (77%) of those who died drugs-related deaths were aged under 35, 35% of them before their twenty fifth birthdays.  Over fifteen years, however, that picture has rapidly altered.

Under 35s now make up just 41% of 2011 drug deaths.  Last year, fewer under 25 years olds died than 45 - 54 year olds.  To my eye, most startling over the decade and a half has been the huge increase in the number of 35 to 44 year olds dying, from just 32 deaths in 1996, to last year's high of 212: an increase of 563% in just fifteen years.  Although starting from a lower base, the increase in the number of 45 - 54 year olds was even greater, climbing over 623% during the period from just 13 deaths in 1996 to the current high of 94.  Despite some people's expectations, drug deaths amongst under 25 year olds are one of the few age strands which has been showing a consistent downward tendency these last four years. 

 

Seeing such substantial changes, the obvious question to ask is, "why"? Confounded tricky question it is too, and a few tentative cautions and hypotheses are probably beyond the scope of this (already substantial) blog. I may well come back to it anon, but until then, speculative discussion in the comments is positively encouraged. 

So what sorts of drugs are implicated in the ongoing rise in the number of Scottish drugs deaths, and how has this changed over time? On a statistical note, more than one drug may be reported per death, and should not be added to give total deaths. I'll be using the data generated by pathologists on the "drugs which were implicated in, or which potentially contributed to the cause of death".  The report also includes data on "other drugs which were present but which were not considered to have had any direct contribution to the death", for those interested in the cocktail of substances found in the systems of those who died.  

Like the changing chart on the age of those who died, the profile of the drugs which killed them has changed substantially over time, with volatile spikes, falls, troughs.  Statistics are not published on all of the sorts of substances which may rob a man of his life - the data is selective, and I'm sure you've heard of most of the drugs depicted.  

So that's how things have changed over time.  What of last year? What substances are proving a contemporary challenge? As the Newsnicht report focussed on, methadone looms large. 

Given the issues I've looked at so far - differences in gender, differences in age groups - I wondered whether the drugs implicated in deaths would differ substantially between men and women, and between older and younger victims.  First, let's compare genders.  It's worth emphasising again, these are all of the drugs which pathologists recorded as "implicated in, or which potentially contributed to the cause of death" appear in these charts. It would be possible, for example, for a fatally over-intoxicated unfortunate to have every single one of these substances in (probably his) system.  The Office publishes a separate chart on all those drugs deaths where only a single one of these substances (and "perhaps alcohol" too) were found in the deceased's system.

And women:

 

In reading these graphs, it is worth recalling that male deaths substantially outnumber female deaths, and so you can't read across from the percentages given.  While, for example, a greater percentage of women than men are dying with methodone knackering their systems, methodone is implicated in a greater number of male deaths (75 deaths to 200).  It's an elementary point, but worth keeping in mind.  Now.  What about age? The youngest cohort, whose under 25, constituting 9.9% of drugs related deaths recorded in 2011.  Substances "implicated in, or which potentially contributed to" their deaths were as follows:

Taking them in order of youthfulness, next, the 25 - 34 year olds, who made up 32.5% of those dying last year as a result of drug use.

35 to 44 year olds, 36.3% of deaths last year:

Second to last, the 45 to 54 year olds, who made up 16% of recorded deaths in 2011.

 

And finally, the oldest cohort, of over 55s, who made up just 6.2% of 2011's total.

So there we have it. Is it entirely what you expected? As we often find, quantitative data like this poses more riddles than it solves, even before we start asking thorny questions about causation, or trying to explain changes in the statistics and analysing what the devil we might do, to try to decrease the numbers of folk needlessly dying. I should also add, the report itself includes various other pieces of data which I've passed over for reasons of brevity.  Conspicuous by its absence is a geographical perspective on the national totals.  You can find further breakdowns by NHS Board area and council area respectively between 2001 and 2011. 

Read the full report here.