Serious Harm
Serious Harm in English Defamation Law
Introduction
Under English defamation law, a claimant must establish that the alleged defamatory publication has caused (or is likely to cause) serious harm to their reputation. This “serious harm” threshold was introduced by section 1 of the Defamation Act 2013 and represents a significant change from the pre-2013 common law. Prior to 2013, a statement could be deemed defamatory based on its inherent tendency to damage reputation, even if no one actually believed it. Judges had developed ways to filter out trivial libel claims, for example, Tugendhat J in Thornton v Telegraph Media Group (2010) imposed a “threshold of seriousness” as part of the common law test, and courts could strike out claims as an abuse of process under the Jameel doctrine (for having no real and substantial tort). These judicial tools aimed to prevent petty or inconsequential cases from wasting court resources.
With the Defamation Act 2013, Parliament codified and strengthened the bar against trivial defamation claims. Section 1 of the Act provides that “a statement is not defamatory unless its publication has caused or is likely to cause serious harm to the reputation of the claimant.” In the case of for-profit companies and trade bodies, the Act adds that harm to reputation is not “serious” unless it has caused or is likely to cause serious financial loss. In practical terms, this means a libel claimant must now demonstrate a greater level of damage than was required before, mere injury to feelings or a minor reputational slur is not enough. The law’s focus has shifted to actual impact: unless the defamatory statement has caused real damage (or is likely to), the claimant has no actionable claim.
Importantly, the 2013 Act did not completely rewrite the definition of “defamatory” at common law, but added an “exclusionary criterion” on top of it. Courts still begin by evaluating whether the statement’s meaning is defamatory under common law (i.e. does it tend to lower the claimant in the estimation of right-thinking people?). However, now even if a statement carries a defamatory meaning, a claim will fail unless the serious harm requirement is also satisfied in fact. In other words, section 1 raised the threshold of seriousness and made demonstrable harm an essential element of libel. As the Supreme Court later explained, section 1 “not only raises the threshold of seriousness above that envisaged in Jameel and Thornton, but requires its application to be determined by reference to the actual facts about [the statement’s] impact and not just to the meaning of the words.” The law now looks beyond the inherent tendency of the words and examines their actual consequences. If the claimant cannot prove that the publication caused or will probably cause serious harm to their reputation, the claim is barred by statute.
In summary, the Defamation Act 2013 ushered in a higher bar for claimants, ensuring that only genuinely significant cases of reputational harm proceed to litigation. The following sections explore how this serious harm requirement has been interpreted by the courts, especially in the landmark Lachaux case, and what factors are considered in determining whether the threshold is met. We will also briefly address the special rules for companies (which must show serious financial loss) and how the serious harm test interacts with other aspects of defamation law.
Section 1 of the Defamation Act 2013: Raising the Bar
Section 1(1) of the Defamation Act 2013 states that “a statement is not defamatory unless its publication has caused or is likely to cause serious harm to the reputation of the claimant.” This statutory wording makes serious harm a prerequisite for any defamation claim brought in England and Wales after the Act’s commencement. The inclusion of “likely to cause” covers situations where the full impact of a publication may not have materialized yet (for example, a newly published allegation that is expected to spread and cause harm), but in either case the harm must be serious. The Act thus elevates the threshold from the old common law, which only required a defamatory tendency of the statement. Now, a real-life impact is needed: trivial reputational harm or fleeting embarrassment is insufficient, the injury to reputation must reach a serious level.
Crucially, section 1 was intended to build upon the prior common law developments rather than completely displace them. Parliament’s goal was to modify the definition of “defamatory” by adding this higher bar, not to scrap centuries of case law. As the Court of Appeal noted, section 1 provides “not an exhaustive definition of what is defamatory but an exclusionary criterion”. In effect, the Act carves out an additional requirement: if the “serious harm” test is not met, the statement will “not be defamatory” (and the claim will be thrown out), even if it would otherwise be considered defamatory under the old common law standard. On the other hand, if the serious harm test is met, the claim still must satisfy the usual common law elements, such as the statement referring to the claimant, bearing a defamatory meaning, and being published, before liability can be established. Section 1 therefore works in tandem with the traditional defamation framework.
Under the new regime, courts undertake a two-step (or actually three-step) analysis in evaluating a libel claim: (1) determine the natural and ordinary meaning of the words (what the statement means to the average reader/listener); (2) decide if that meaning is defamatory by common law standards (does it tend to lower the claimant’s reputation, and is it above any minimal threshold of seriousness?); and (3) determine, as a matter of fact, whether the publication of those words has caused or is likely to cause serious harm to the claimant’s reputation. This final step is the statutory innovation, essentially a condition that must be proven for the cause of action to exist. The Supreme Court has described it as making proof of serious harm “a necessary element” (in effect) of a defamation claim post-2013. If the claimant fails to clear this hurdle, the claim will fail at an early stage. Judges have the power to deal with the serious harm question as a preliminary issue in the case, or on an application to strike out, meaning weak claims can be dismissed without a full trial if they clearly lack evidence of serious harm.
It’s worth noting that the introduction of section 1 largely overlaps with, but does not entirely eliminate, the earlier practice of using the Jameel abuse of process doctrine to weed out cases where there’s no substantial tort. In Lachaux (discussed below), the Court of Appeal observed that section 1 does not “wholly supplant” the Jameel jurisdiction. Conceivably, there might still be scenarios where a claim could be struck out as disproportionate or trivial even though the serious harm test is technically met (for example, if proceeding with the case would not be a justifiable use of court time). However, the consensus is that such scenarios will be rare now. In practice, serious harm under section 1 has become the primary filter, if a claimant proves serious reputational harm (or its likelihood), that usually signifies the case involves a “real and substantial” tort, making a separate Jameel analysis unnecessary in all but the most exceptional circumstances.
Lachaux: A Landmark Case on Serious Harm
One of the most important judicial developments in this area came with the case of Lachaux v Independent Print Ltd, which ultimately reached the Supreme Court in 2019. This case provided authoritative guidance on how to interpret and apply the serious harm requirement introduced by the 2013 Act. Lachaux concerned a series of articles published in 2014 about a French aerospace engineer (Mr. Lachaux) involved in acrimonious divorce proceedings, which he alleged were defamatory. Because the publications occurred after the new law took effect, Mr. Lachaux needed to prove that the articles caused serious harm to his reputation.
At first instance, Warby J (High Court) found that serious harm was established, relying not just on the severe allegations in the articles, but also on evidence of how the publications were circulated and received. He noted that the allegations, which included claims of domestic abuse and deceit, were very grave and had appeared in reputable national newspapers, which would likely be taken seriously by readers. The judge drew inferences that such publications would have a significant adverse effect on Mr. Lachaux’s reputation, even though Mr. Lachaux did not call any witnesses to say “I thought worse of him because of the article.” In other words, the nature of the allegations and the credibility of the source (a national newspaper) permitted the court to infer serious harm without direct testimony from readers. Warby J’s decision confirmed that claimants can rely on inference as well as evidence, if the circumstances are such that one would expect serious reputational damage, the court can conclude that serious harm occurred (or is likely) on the balance of probabilities.
The defendants in Lachaux argued on appeal that Warby J had applied the wrong approach. They contended that the question of whether words are defamatory should be decided by looking only at the meaning and inherent tendency of the words, not by examining evidence of what actually happened after publication. In essence, they suggested that section 1 did not change the traditional rule that libel is actionable per se (without proof of damage), apart from setting a somewhat higher threshold of gravity akin to the Thornton test. However, this argument was rejected. The Court of Appeal and later the Supreme Court agreed with Warby J that section 1 does change the law in a meaningful way, requiring courts to consider actual impact and not just the defamatory meaning in the abstract. Lord Sumption, writing for the Supreme Court, made it clear that the 2013 Act “materially changed” English defamation law. The Act “requires its application to be determined by reference to the actual facts about [the statement’s] impact and not just to the meaning of the words”. In plainer terms, a judge must look at what actually happened as a result of the publication (or what will likely happen), for example, how widely the statement was disseminated, who read it, and whether it caused people to shun or avoid the claimant, rather than simply assuming harm from the words alone.
The Supreme Court in Lachaux affirmed that serious harm is a matter of fact, to be proved on the evidence (including inferences drawn from the circumstances). It is not enough for a claimant to point to the defamatory meaning of the words and call it a day, they must go further and show that this meaning had or will have a seriously damaging effect on their reputation. This doesn’t necessarily require waiting for actual damage to fully unfold (the law allows likely future harm to count), but it does mean the court can consider evidence of what has occurred since publication by the time of the hearing. For instance, in Lachaux, Mr. Lachaux could show that the articles were accessed online many thousands of times and sparked negative comments, supporting an inference of serious harm. The Supreme Court’s ruling put to rest any lingering confusion: section 1 made defamation an evidence-based tort when it comes to harm. Libel and slander may still be “actionable per se” in the sense that one need not prove special damages (tangible financial loss) for individuals, but general damage to reputation must cross a seriousness threshold and must be proven with reference to actual events and circumstances.
In summary, Lachaux confirmed that the serious harm requirement has real teeth. It is a threshold condition that has to be satisfied by facts, not just by pleading a nasty meaning. This has refocused defamation cases onto the real-world impact of an alleged libel. The decision also provided examples (obiter) of how a court might handle certain scenarios: e.g., a very grave allegation in a national newspaper could obviously be inferred to cause serious harm without specific witnesses, whereas a mild allegation to a small group might require specific evidence of impact or might not meet the threshold at all. The guiding principle is that judges must evaluate the context and effects of the publication in each case.
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Proving “Serious Harm” – Evidence, Inferences, and Key Factors
How does a claimant actually go about proving serious harm to reputation? The courts have indicated that this is a fact-sensitive inquiry, and they will consider all the relevant circumstances surrounding the publication. There is no single metric (such as a fixed number of people who saw the statement or a specific drop in profits, except for companies as discussed later) that automatically proves serious harm. Instead, judges weigh a combination of factors, drawing common-sense inferences about the likely reputation impact. Below are the key factors and principles that have emerged from post-2013 case law:
Gravity of the Allegation:
The more serious or heinous the defamatory imputation, the more likely it is to cause serious harm. An accusation of, say, terrorism, murder, serious sexual misconduct, or large-scale fraud is inherently far more damaging to one’s reputation than an insult about incompetence or rudeness. Courts recognise that extremely grave allegations can justify an inference of serious harm even absent direct evidence of anyone’s reaction. For example, Warby J noted that if someone were falsely accused of a major crime like conspiracy to murder in a national newspaper, one would not need each reader to testify that they thought worse of the person, it’s obvious such a claim would seriously harm reputation. Similarly, accusations of pedophilia or other vile conduct have been held to meet the serious harm test by inference alone, given their gravity and the contexts of publication (as seen in cases like Monir v Wood and Coker v Nwakanma). That said, gravity alone is not decisive, it raises a presumption of harm, but the claimant still bears the burden to prove serious harm on balance. If the defendant can show, for instance, that nobody believed the allegation or it did not circulate widely, a grave allegation might not actually cause serious reputational damage in fact. The law requires considering both the seriousness of the charge and how it played out in reality.
Extent of Publication and Audience:
Another crucial factor is how widely the defamatory statement was published and to whom. A false allegation broadcast in a popular national newspaper or widely shared on social media is far likelier to cause serious harm than one communicated in a private email or a small community newsletter. However, it’s not just a numbers game, the quality of the publishees (the recipients of the statement) often matters more than sheer quantity. As Nicklin J observed, “what matters is not the extent of publication, but to whom the words are published.” If a defamatory statement reaches people who are important to the claimant, for example, the claimant’s friends, family, colleagues, business associates, or others in their close circle or professional community, it is more likely to have a serious impact on their reputation than if it only reaches strangers who have never heard of the claimant. In a small-scale publication scenario, a court will ask whether the publishees actually identified the claimant and whether the allegation “stuck” in their minds. If a libel is published to a handful of people who don’t even know the claimant or don’t connect the story to the claimant, it may cause little or no real harm. By contrast, publication to members of the claimant’s local community, workplace, or social circle (people who know and care about the claimant’s reputation) can be very damaging. Judges will consider evidence such as circulation figures, website hit counts, social media shares, and any indications of how the story spread and who discussed it, in determining the scale and reach of publication. A related consideration is repetition, if the false allegation was picked up and republished or widely discussed (the “grapevine effect”), that can amplify the harm.
Credibility and Source of the Statement:
The medium and source of the defamatory allegation can influence how much harm it causes. A statement published by a respected, authoritative source (for example, a reputable newspaper, a well-known website, or a person perceived as knowledgeable or close to the events) will generally be taken more seriously by readers, thus posing a greater threat to the claimant’s reputation. In Lachaux, the fact that the libels appeared in major British newspapers lent them credibility and weight in the eyes of the public. Conversely, defendants have sometimes argued that if the publication was on a fringe blog, a gossip forum, or written by someone with no credibility, then people wouldn’t believe the allegations and the harm would be minimal. However, courts have been cautious about this line of argument. Warby J called it “inherently odd” to claim that a publication didn’t cause harm because the source wasn’t credible, since it assumes people read material they consider worthless or untrustworthy. While it’s theoretically possible that a particular publisher is so disreputable that readers uniformly dismiss their content as nonsense (in which case little reputational harm might be done), that is rare and must be proven with evidence. Generally, a claimant doesn’t have to refute speculative arguments that “no one believed the story.” Unless the defendant can show, for example, that the publication was widely ridiculed or ignored, the court will not simply assume a disreputable source caused no harm. In fact, the Court of Appeal in 2023 (Banks v Cadwalladr) held that it’s irrelevant whether the audience’s opinion was “of no consequence” to the claimant, the law looks at damage to reputation objectively, not whether the claimant personally cares about the esteem of those particular publishees. In short, while the standing of the publisher can enhance the likelihood of harm (credible outlets increase the risk), the inverse, discounting harm because of a non-credible source, is not readily accepted without strong proof.
Reactions and Evidence of Impact:
Courts will examine any actual evidence of how people reacted to the defamatory publication. This can include witness statements from individuals who read or heard the allegation and as a result thought less of the claimant, instances of the claimant being shunned, ridiculed or questioned, or other real-world consequences. For example, if a claimant can show they lost a job, were avoided by colleagues, or faced public hostility following the publication, those are tangible indicators of serious harm. That said, direct evidence of impact is not always available (people don’t often admit openly that they believed a libel), so claimants can rely on inferences from the circumstances. There is no requirement to bring a parade of witnesses saying “I disbelieved you because of the article,” especially in cases where the allegation’s nature and context speak for themselves. Still, any evidence that is available can bolster the case. For instance, contemporaneous social media reactions, comments, or messages related to the publication might show that readers took it seriously and thought less of the claimant. Conversely, the defendant might try to produce evidence that the impact was negligible, for example, evidence that the statement was quickly disproven, that the claimant’s friends all knew it was false, or that hardly anyone saw the publication. The court’s task is to weigh all this and decide if, on balance, the reputational damage was or will likely be serious.
Existing Reputation and Context:
Another factor is the claimant’s pre-existing reputation and the specific context into which the defamatory statement was published. If a claimant already had a very poor reputation in the relevant community, a new defamatory allegation might not make it much worse (in which case proving serious harm could be harder). However, the courts have warned that this must be considered carefully and “only up to a point”. Just because someone has a bad reputation in one respect doesn’t give others a free pass to defame them in other ways. For example, a politician might be disliked by political opponents, but if an unrelated slanderous accusation is published about them (say, accusing them of a heinous crime), it can still “add to the list of reasons to revile her” and thereby cause serious harm. The law does allow defendants to cite a claimant’s general bad reputation to mitigate damages or argue that an incremental harm is small, but section 1 directs attention to the actual impact of the particular statement. So even a person with a checkered past can be seriously harmed by a fresh defamatory lie if it is believed or given credence. Additionally, courts may consider any directly relevant background context that could lessen or increase the impact of the defamation. For instance, if the defamatory statement was published alongside a rebuttal or in a context where readers would naturally be sceptical (such as an obvious satire), the harm might be less. Alternatively, if the claimant had recently been in the news for very positive reasons, a defamatory hit piece might contrast sharply and do more damage. Each case will have its own context to consider, and the judiciary has emphasized not approaching the serious harm question “in blinkers”, meaning they will look at the whole picture.
In evaluating these factors, the judge makes an overall evaluative judgment on whether the harm to reputation crosses the statutory threshold of “serious.” This is not a precise mathematical standard, but a qualitative judgment. Appellate courts have indicated they will rarely interfere with a trial judge’s assessment of serious harm unless a clear error of principle is shown. In practice, since Lachaux, many claims have been tested against this standard. Some have failed at an early stage due to limited publication or minimal evidence of impact; others have succeeded by demonstrating that even without direct evidence, the circumstances of publication justify a finding of serious harm. The bottom line is that claimants now must engage with the facts of reputational impact. Defamation litigation has become more demanding in this respect, one must be prepared to show how and why the publication caused a serious injury to reputation, not simply that the words were nasty. This aligns with the policy aim of the 2013 reforms: to discourage trivial or vexatious claims and ensure that only cases involving real harm (to personal or business reputation) make it to court.
Post-Lachaux Case Law Developments
Since the Supreme Court’s judgment in Lachaux v Independent Print Ltd [2019] UKSC 27; [2020] A.C. 612, courts have grappled with applying the serious harm test in diverse factual scenarios. The key lesson from the post-Lachaux authorities is that while serious harm may be inferred, the courts will scrutinise publication scale, context, and real-world impact with rigour.
Riley v Murray [2021] EWHC 3437 (QB)
In Riley v Murray, Nicklin J restated the fundamental principles laid down in Lachaux, emphasising that serious harm is a threshold issue: once crossed, the degree of harm goes to quantum, not liability. He clarified that the court is not required to quantify how far above the threshold the harm lies (at [43]). Crucially, Nicklin J accepted that serious harm may be inferred from the publication’s nature, scope, and context, without direct evidence from publishees. The allegation in question, that the claimant had “falsely accused Jeremy Corbyn of anti-Semitism”, had been widely published and was found to be serious enough to satisfy s.1.
Monroe v Hopkins [2017] EWHC 433 (QB)
Although predating the Supreme Court ruling in Lachaux, Warby J’s reasoning in Monroe v Hopkins remains entirely consistent with it. He held that a defamatory tweet imputing vandalism of a war memorial satisfied the serious harm requirement due to its gravity, the extent of publication, and the claimant’s public profile. The Court found that it was not necessary to produce specific readers who had changed their view of the claimant, serious harm was evident from the gravity of the imputation and the dissemination of the tweet (at [71]).
Turley v Unite the Union [2019] EWHC 3547 (QB)
In Turley, Nicklin J considered whether a defamatory blog post and social media commentary had caused serious harm. The claimant produced substantial evidence, including abusive online comments and ostracisation from political peers. The judgment underscores the principle that while hurt feelings are not evidence of reputational harm, observable consequences like online abuse and reputational fallout among one’s professional community may demonstrate serious harm (see [79],[80], [114]).
Dhir v Saddler [2017] EWHC 3155 (QB)
In this slander case, Nicklin J addressed whether spoken words, accusing the claimant of threatening to kill, caused serious reputational harm. The publication occurred within a church community of approximately 90 people. The judge inferred that although no direct evidence was adduced from listeners, the allegation was so grave and the audience sufficiently cohesive that serious harm could be inferred. He stressed the “sticking power” of the imputation and its capacity to resonate within the claimant’s social sphere (at [55]).
Coker v Nwakanma [2021] EWHC 1011 (QB)
This case reaffirmed that serious harm is not merely a function of publication size. A single text message to the defendant’s sister alleging sexual assault was held capable of causing serious harm, given the gravity of the allegation and the nature of the relationship. Saini J concluded that the seriousness of the allegation justified inference of harm “on the meaning alone and without any necessary additional evidence” (at [33]).
Sobrinho v Impresa Publishing SA [2016] EWHC 66 (QB)
Dingemans J found that, despite the seriousness of the allegations, fraud and corporate mismanagement by a prominent banker, there was no evidence that they caused serious harm in England and Wales. Publication was limited, and the Court accepted that nobody who mattered believed the allegations. This case illustrates that even severe imputations may not satisfy s.1 if the extent and effect of publication are insufficient (at [96]).
Banks v Cadwalladr [2023] EWCA Civ 219; [2023] K.B. 524
A crucial appellate decision which refined the law in respect of continuing online publication. The Court of Appeal confirmed that each period of publication must be assessed for serious harm. A statement that initially caused serious harm may cease to do so if, for example, its public interest defence expires. Warby LJ held that the requirement must be met “to the extent” of the publication complained of, later publication periods do not inherit earlier findings of harm (at [49]). The judgment reinforces the “granular” nature of the test.
Serious Financial Loss: The Corporate Test
When it comes to companies and other bodies trading for profit, the Defamation Act 2013 imposes an even more specific hurdle. Section 1(2) of the Act states that for the purposes of the serious harm requirement, “harm to the reputation of a body that trades for profit is not ‘serious harm’ unless it has caused or is likely to cause the body serious financial loss.” In plain English, a for-profit corporation (such as a business or a trading partnership) cannot sue for defamation unless the libel or slander has caused, or will probably cause, it a serious loss of money. This is an additional requirement on top of the ordinary serious harm test. In effect, the company must demonstrate that the defamatory statement has hit them where it hurts, in the pocketbook, to a serious extent.
Under the old common law, corporate claimants did not need to prove actual financial loss; it was enough to show that the words had a tendency to damage the company’s reputation in the way of its trade. For example, saying a restaurant had a vermin infestation or a bank was insolvent would be defamatory of those businesses by tendency, even if immediate loss of revenue wasn’t proved. The 2013 Act changed this by adding a requirement of financial loss for trading bodies. Parliament’s intention here was to prevent wealthy companies from launching libel actions over minor slights that don’t really affect their business, and to ensure that corporate libel claims are tied to genuine economic harm.
In practice, what does “serious financial loss” entail? The Act does not define the term, so it has been left to the courts to interpret. It is clear that it means more than just a negligible loss, the impact on the company’s finances must be significant or “serious” in degree. According to the Supreme Court in Lachaux, the financial loss concept in section 1(2) is not the same as traditional special damages in libel (which referred to specific monetary losses to the claimant outside of reputation). Rather, serious financial loss is essentially the metric by which serious reputational harm is measured for companies. Lord Sumption explained that for a body trading for profit, the serious harm to reputation must manifest as serious financial loss (or a likelihood thereof), the financial loss is “the measure of the harm” to reputation in such cases. This means that a company’s claim will hinge on evidence that the publication caused customers to withdraw business, led to lost contracts, a decline in revenue, a drop in share price, or some other concrete negative financial outcome (or that such outcomes are likely to result imminently). The court must investigate the actual impact of the statement on the company’s finances, rather than assuming harm from the statement’s tendency alone. Just as with individual claimants, the days of presuming damage are over, a company has to prove it.
To satisfy this requirement, a corporate claimant should plead and demonstrate actual facts showing serious financial harm or the real likelihood of it. This usually involves evidence such as profit and loss statements, sales figures before and after the publication, cancelled orders or clients, or other financial indicators. For instance, if a defamatory allegation about a product’s safety causes a significant slump in sales or expensive corrective advertising, those would be indicative of serious financial loss. The timing and causation need to be persuasive: the loss should be attributable to the defamatory publication (and not, say, a general market downturn or other unrelated factors). It’s worth noting that the law does allow a company to rely on likely future loss, not just loss that has already occurred, for example, if a libel is so egregious that a company’s trading partners are expected to pull out, the company doesn’t have to wait for all the damage to fully unfold before suing, as long as it can show evidence that serious loss is probably imminent. But at trial, if a company claimed likely loss and that loss never materialized as anticipated, the court will scrutinize whether the threshold was truly met.
Another nuance is that section 1(2) doesn’t eliminate the need for the statement to be defamatory in the first place. The company must still clear the initial hurdles: the words must be defamatory by nature/meaning (they must tend to make people think less of the company in a relevant respect), and the company must have a reputation to protect in that context (for example, a trading corporation can’t sue over a personal insult that has no bearing on its business). If those are satisfied, then the company additionally has to prove the serious financial loss element. In effect, for corporate claimants the court will: (1) determine the meaning of the words and if they are defamatory at common law (including the general “serious harm” test as it applies to reputation); and (2) ensure that the extra requirement of serious financial loss is met. If a company cannot show serious financial loss resulting from the publication, then by statute it is deemed not to have suffered serious harm to its reputation, and its claim will fail.
It’s also important to understand which entities fall under “a body that trades for profit.” This typically includes companies, partnerships, and other for-profit enterprises. It does not include individuals (even if they are sole traders, individuals are covered by section 1(1) only, though of course a sole trader’s personal reputation in business is essentially the same thing) and likely does not include charities or government bodies (charitable or public bodies usually either cannot sue in defamation or don’t have to meet the financial loss test because they are not “trading for profit”). For example, a registered charity or an NGO would not be subject to section 1(2), they would only need to meet the serious harm test like an individual would, without proving financial loss. (In fact, under separate principles, certain public bodies like local authorities cannot sue in defamation at all, per the Derbyshire doctrine, but that’s beyond our scope here.)
In summary, corporate defamation claims after 2013 require a showing of actual or likely serious financial harm. This sets a high bar: a company must effectively demonstrate that the defamatory statement has caused substantial economic damage to its business reputation. If a corporation cannot show at least a likelihood of significant financial loss (for instance, a measurable hit to revenue or profits attributable to the libel), then even if the statement is defamatory and false, the company will not be able to recover. This reform was aimed at striking a balance between allowing companies to protect themselves from genuinely damaging false allegations (e.g. a libel that triggers a boycott or investor panic) versus preventing powerful businesses from suing over trivial criticisms that have little real impact on their bottom line.
Conclusion
The introduction of the serious harm ensures that defamation claims focus on matters of substance, where a person’s or company’s reputation has truly suffered in a significant way, rather than being used to litigate minor slights or settle scores over inconsequential remarks. For claimants, this means there is an onus to gather and present evidence of the damage caused by an alleged libel or slander, and to clear a higher threshold of harm. For defendants (such as media organisations or individuals who speak out), it provides additional protection against weak claims, since a lawsuit will not succeed unless the claimant can show serious impact on their reputation. In tandem with this threshold, defendants still retain all the usual defences in defamation law, if a statement is true, for instance, the truth defence (also known as justification) will bar liability even if the claimant’s reputation suffered. Likewise, a defendant can escape liability by showing it was an honestly held opinion (honest opinion), or that the publication was privileged (qualified privilege), among other defences. The serious harm test does not replace these defences; rather, it operates as a gatekeeping requirement before considering defences. In cases that do meet the serious harm threshold and where no defence defeats the claim, the court may award compensation for reputational injury, i.e., damages, to vindicate the claimant’s reputation. However, even in assessing damages, the seriousness of the harm proven is a key factor, reinforcing how central the concept of “serious harm” has become in modern libel law.
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