Legal Beagle by Graeme Edgeler

101

At least we have MMP

So Hilary Calvert is a Member of Parliament. Let us be thankful that we have MMP.

Had David Garrett been wheeled in as an electorate candidate in support of the election of a broader church National Party he'd probably still be in Parliament. But as a list MP, he could only claim a mandate while continuing to represent the party his supporters actually voted for. So when it all became untenable, he had the good grace to move on. MPs representing arbitrarily-drawn geographical constituencies – rather than voters nationwide – have tended not to do that.

Taito Phillip Field stuck around until the election, even though the people of Mangere had chosen to be represented by a Labour MP, and the people of New Zealand by 50 Labour MPs. Chris Carter, the member representing Te Atatu, and whom only the media want to talk to, is toughing it out just the same.

In the early days of MMP there were a few list MPs who tried that, but it seems this has sorted itself out. Now, it's only constituency MPs who stay on when they're not wanted. Of course, this isn't really fair on their voters: the influence of their MP in the House is shot: what Minister is likely to stick his or her neck out to help a member of the public – and what party caucus is going to consider amending a policy position – following an entreaty from a local member like Chris Carter or Brian Connell?

If we still had first-past-the-post, Richard Worth would probably still be the member of Epsom, and wouldn't have left after it became clear he could be no use to anyone: this list MP phenomenon appears to have a lot going for it.

I fully expect that this will provoke a backlash against first-past-the-post that will see the list-MP-based MMP romp home at the upcoming referendum. Given the antics of electorate MPs in recent years, I wouldn't be surprised to see the people demand that a list-only option be considered. That MMP – a system where the cast-offs of our political system can move aside to ensure real representation can continue – has shown its strengths in recent weeks is difficult to dispute.

197

He is Henry the Eighth, he is

I haven't time to prepare a post of my usual consideration (or length), before the House of Representatives passes the Canterbury Earthquake Response and Recovery Bill through all stages under extreme urgency, but I felt impelled to say something before it passed, rather than after. The in-depth analysis will hopefully follow from many quarters in the coming days – probably not from me in any organised form – but I will perhaps start with a couple of questions:

1. why does the Government – without first going to Parliament – need the power to unilaterally decide that murder isn't a crime in Auckland to assist with the reconstruction of Christchurch?

2. why, if the Government did decide that murder shouldn't be a crime in Auckland, should this obviously and stupidly unreasonable decision not be able to be over-turned by a Court?

Wouldn't the law only allow the Government to do things that are reasonably necessary or expedient for facilitating the response to the Canterbury earthquake, or the other things listed in the purpose section of the new law? I hear myself asking.

Well yes, that's how laws work. Parliament passes a law, and the Government has to follow it, so if Parliament says "you have these powers, but you may only exercise them for these purposes" then if the Government exercises them for a different purpose, its exercise of that power is invalid. But the problem is that this law declares that the body with the power to declare those actions invalid is told to naff off. Section 6(3) states:

The recommendation of the relevant Minister may not be challenged, reviewed, quashed, or called into question in any court.

I'm pretty sure the courts would tell them to stuff off anyway, but that's not really the point - they shouldn't be trying to do this anyway.

I have often wondered what it would take for me to swear off a political party forever. It would be a very rare circumstance. Plenty of things would stop me voting for a party. I wouldn't support a party that intended to reintroduce the death penalty, for example, but swearing off a party forever is quite drastic. I usually came down with an answer like “ignoring section 268 of the Electoral Act and extending the term of Parliament without a super-majority”.

I think we have a new winner. If anything even remotely dodgy is done under this law, I will hold every MP who voted for it personally responsible and never ever vote for a party which has a single one of them on its list. And I will encourage everyone I know, and anyone I don't who'll listen, to do the same.

Edit: couldn't help myself, more analysis added.

22

Bill Will II

A week-and-a-bit ago I took most of the day off to listen to the first day's argument in Bill Wilson's judicial review. The situation isn't one I've followed especially closely, but it's a fascinating and important case, and the boss didn't seem to mind.

I wasn't the only one. I recognised maybe five lawyers in the public gallery – quite packed for a legal argument – and I don't know all that many. Perhaps 20 people watching at any one time (with some coming as others were going), a packed media bench – three deep – and more silk than the playboy mansion: three High Court judges, three Queen's Counsel, and a Sir Edmund Thomas, a former Judge of the Court of Appeal (and QC).

Unfortunately, I didn't get to all of the afternoon session, and wasn't able to skive off work for much of the second day at all, but the three judges would do the public discourse a great service if the first thing they note in their judgment is exactly what they consider the allegations of misconduct that remain unanswered, and if proven, are so serious that they would warrant consideration of dismissal. Because that didn't seem to be clear to anyone. Media reports of the subsequent argument suggest David Goddard (representing the Judicial Conduct Commissioner) and Solicitor-General David Colins (representing the acting Attorney-General) may have done their bit to clarify matters – at least from their perspective.

So what happened?

A few years ago a company called Saxmere took issue with the something the Wool Board Disestablishment Company was doing. They sued. And won. The Wool Board appealed. And won. So Saxmere appealed. And part of its appeal was that one of the Judges in the Court of Appeal ruling was Bill Wilson. And that he had business interests with Alan Galbraith, who represented the Wool Board. That these interests weren't fully disclosed, and that because of those interests it would appear to an ordinary person looking at the case that Justice Wilson might have (unconsciously) favoured the side argued by his friend. The Supreme Court looked at it, and said “no”. Then Saxmere asked them to reconsider. They did, stating that they had been under a misapprehension about the nature of the business interest, and Saxmere had a point. They referred the matter back to the Court of Appeal for a new hearing. The argument has been heard, and we're waiting for a decision.

Saxmere complained about Justice Wilson to the Judicial Conduct Commissioner. So too did Ted Thomas, and a not-otherwise-involved concerned citizen, Mr O'Neill. Not only were there a number of complainants, there were a number of complaints. It was alleged Justice Wilson was actually biased. And that he had breached a prohibition recently added to the Judicature Act about Judges not being able to hold other offices without permission. These (and other) complaints don't really survive. As best as I can figure, the conduct that remains impeached is only around what Justice Wilson (by then a Judge of the Supreme Court) told his colleagues when they were first considering Saxmere's complaint about him. It doesn't appear to be about Justice Wilson's behaviour during the Court of Appeal case – he disclosed the existence of a relationship to the lawyer but only informally – or about any of the half-a-dozen other complaints. The only one supposedly serious enough to warrant his removal from office is the allegation he wasn't forthcoming enough with his Supreme Court colleagues – to the detriment of a party entitled to win its appeal. By the time his colleagues were considering the matter, Justice Wilson had to be scrupulously forthcoming with them. And Saxmere and others say he wasn't (Justice Wilson says he was, and moreover, offered to be examined on oath about it).

But whether this was the right thing to do isn't really what the judicial review is about. That's what the putative hearing of the judicial conduct panel will be about. Possibly. One of the arguments being litigated last week was whether the findings of the Judicial Conduct Commissioner that some matter couldn't be proved, or that some matter wasn't serious enough to be referred to a panel means that the panel can't look into them. Is it supposed to look afresh at everything, or only consider specific allegations referred to it by the Judicial Conduction Commission (via the (acting) Attorney-General)?

One of the things the Supreme Court found as a matter of fact during its second hearing was that Justice Wilson was “beholden” to Alan Galbraith. This was news to them, and the basis for it changing its mind. It was also news to Bill Wilson, who says they got this wrong – a view his lawyer told the court had been accepted by the Judicial Conduct Commissioner. Part of the judicial review may revolve around the extent to which the Judicial Conduct Commissioner is bound by the findings of the Supreme Court (Ted Thomas apparently says he is).

You can only get so much of a feeling for a case when you've heard two-thirds of one day's argument, presented almost exclusively from the perspective of only one of the parties (though we got pretty good coverage through Audrey Young at the Herald). There was the odd murmur or shaking-of-head from those with me in the public gallery who know more about the matter than me that indicates there will be differences over the facts and the argument. But there's hopefully enough to give you all a simplified – doubtless over-simplified – taste.

And what is Bill Wilson's argument in this judicial review?

It appears to have a number of strands, mostly focused on ways in which his lawyer, Colin Carruthers QC, says the the Judicial Conduct Commissioner stuffed up.

Primarily, before the Judicial Conduct Commissioner can recommend to the Attorney-General that a Judicial Conduct Panel can be appointed he has to be satisfied that an inquiry into the alleged conduct is justified, and that if proved, the (mis)conduct may warrant consideration of the removal of the judge (this is what section 18 of the Judicial Conduct Commission and Judicial Conduct Panel Act requires).

He says that even if the concerns left outstanding in the Commissioner's report were proved, they're not so serious as to warrant consideration of removal. And he may have a bit of a point. No judge has been forcibly removed from office in New Zealand, but those who have been removed overseas have tended to be removed over much more serious matters.

Over it's history the US Senate has tried 15 judges for consideration of whether they should be removed from office. One of those was Supreme Court Justice Samuel Chase – the only US Supreme Court to be impeached – whom Jefferson basically sought to have removed because of political differences; his acquittal set a standard that meant no-one seriously tried that again – someone might introduce an impeachment motion in the House, but it only takes it seriously if it's serious.

The US Senate is in the process of considering the removal of a judge from office now: Federal Judge G. Thomas Porteous, Jr. was impeached by the House of Representatives for a numerous matters including perjury and accepting cash from lawyers involved in a case. Serious. In 1989 Judge Alcee Hastings was removed for accepting a bribe (although he had been acquitted in a criminal trial), and was shortly thereafter elected a member of the House of Representatives, still serving Floridians 20 years on.

Most have been on charges of the like, but they haven't all been like that. The Senate removed West Hughes Humphreys for publicly calling for secession; giving aid to an armed rebellion; conspiring with Jefferson Davis; serving as a Confederate Judge; confiscating the property of Supreme Court Justice John Catron; and imprisoning a Union sympathiser with "intent to injure him". This gives the flavour of the type of non-criminal misbehaviour that might get a judge removed from office: conducts manifesting an unfitness to continue in judicial office.

There are examples from jurisdictions similar to New Zealand. Earlier this year, the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in London recommended the removal of Justice Priya Levers of the Grand Court of the Cayman Islands. The Judicial Committee's press release carries a nice summary:

(i) The Board found that the comments critical of her fellow judges made on two occasions in court constituted serious misconduct in one case and were inappropriate in the other.
(ii) Madam Justice Lever’s interventions in the sentencing hearing in R v Bryan flagrantly violated the Bangalore Principles of Judicial Conduct, showed bias and contempt for Jamaicans and amounted to misbehaviour that would of itself have justified her removal from office. She was guilty of serious misconduct in attempting to procure the acquittal of a defendant by improper means in R v Irvalyn Bush and in making a recklessly inaccurate complaint against counsel in R v Parchment.
(iii) Among the family cases referred to the Tribunal, Madam Justice Levers was guilty of serious misconduct on three occasions. She made offensive and racist comments to a Canadian mother in the C litigation, demonstrated a similar attitude in suggesting that a Filipino mother go back to the Philippines and made a remark to SE which would be perceived as outrageously racist and would be wholly unacceptable from the bench anywhere in the world.
(iv) The evidence from a number of witnesses showed that after May 2007 Madam Justice Levers had formed a powerful dislike of the Chief Justice and certain of her fellow judges. She had disparaged them in private conversations with others involved in court administration, which crossed the line from indiscretion to become misconduct although not misbehaviour justifying removal from office on its own.

The range of descriptors used in this got a bit of play at the hearing. There is inappropriate behaviour. And there are indiscretions. And there's misconduct. And serious misconduct. None of that is serious enough to get a judge kicked from the bench. Only when what a judge has done amounts to misbehaviour, can that judge properly be removed from office. And when serious misconduct isn't high enough, you've got a pretty high threshold.

The Caymans weren't the only territory to trouble the Privy Council recently. Late last year it considered the position of Chief Justice Schofield of Gibraltar. His was a very different case, less concerned with misbehaviour that with fitness to continue in office. The Chief Justice had basically engaged in a campaign against proposed changes to the Gibraltan Constitution he argued affected judicial independence, and a bunch of other minor things said to add to the ultimate conclusion (including his illegal employment of a maid, and his defence of a charge a driving a car with expired registration). Tellingly, the Privy Council split four votes in favour of removal to three against. The details of the case are unimportant for our purposes, but some of the discussion about the standard needed to be reached for removal from office may be of assistance. The majority formulated four questions in its assessment:

(i) Has the Chief Justice’s conduct affected directly his ability to carry out the duties and discharge the functions of his office?
ii) Has that conduct adversely affected the perception of others as to his ability to carry out those duties and discharge those functions?
iii) Would it be perceived to be inimical to the due administration of justice in Gibraltar if the Chief Justice remains in office?
iv) Has the office of Chief Justice been brought into disrepute by the Chief Justice’s conduct?

Rephrase these questions slightly, and we might have the beginning of a standard against which to assess the conduct Justice Wilson has been alleged to have engaged in – but we should also consider the words of the minority:

Thus, before making a recommendation that a judge be removed, the question to be asked is whether the conduct for which he or she is blamed is so manifestly and totally contrary to the impartiality, integrity and independence of the judiciary that the confidence of individuals appearing before the judge, or of the public in its justice system, would be undermined, rendering the judge incapable of performing the duties of his office.

It is a very high standard. Can failing to fully brief your colleagues, but offering to be examined on oath, really qualify? In a noted Australian case, Justice Lionel Murphy of the High Court of Australia (Australia's highest court) almost faced a similar enquiry. He had been convicted of attempting to pervert the course of justice, and following a successful appeal, and a retrial that resulted in his acquittal, questions remained about whether he was fit to continue in office. Legislation was passed to enable an inquiry by three retired judges (into matters not directly engaged in the criminal proceedings) but it was repealed before the inquiry concluded, following Justice Murphy's diagnosis with an untreatable cancer. Andrew Wells QC, one of the retired judges on the Commission of Inquiry wrote extensively, and his views got a fair amount of play in Justice Wilson's judicial review. Although the Commission never fully determined the matter, Wells' opinion has been influential in other Commonwealth cases: he had noted:

Somewhere in the gamut of judicial misconduct or impropriety, a High Court judge's conduct, outside the exercise of his judicial function, that displays unfitness to discharge the duties of his high office can no longer be condoned, and becomes misbehaviour so clear and serious that the judge guilty of it can no longer be trusted to do his duty. What he has done then will have destroyed public confidence in his judicial character, and hence in the guarantee that that character should give that he should do the duty expected of him by the Constitution.

...

Accordingly, the word “misbehaviour” must be held to extend to conduct of the judge in or beyond the execution of his judicial office, that represents so serious a departure from standards of proper behaviour by such a judge that it must be found to have destroyed public confidence that he will continue to do his duty under and pursuant to the Constitution.

This is arguably – as with most of the case – the standard to which the Judicial Conduct Commissioner ought to have found the allegations against Justice Wilson reached before recommending the Attorney-General convene a panel. But to know whether it reaches that standard will require a little patience on our parts. I don't anticipate it will be an excessively long wait for the decision, but this hasn't happened often – and never in New Zealand and very few people seem willing to take a punt.

32

Absent Members

The Civil List Act doesn't get much press. But the laughable $10 fine per sitting day it imposes for AWOL MPs has some calling for change. Newspapers editors. Political journalists. Bloggers. Even the Speaker.

Unlike just about everyone else, it's something I've actually thought about before. I'm just that kind of guy. I've been told I need to get out more. The Law Commission is reviewing the Civil List Act. Its 60-page Issues Paper received five submissions – the Clerk of the Executive Council, the Clerk of the House of Representatives, The Parliamentary Service, the Republican Movement of Aotearoa and me. I suspect most of their consideration focussed on the bits about the Governor-General (the Law Commission recently on Part 1 of the Civil List Act, and the new Governor-General Bill has resulted). But the recent machinations around Chris Carter do not dissuade me from my view: a statutory quasi-fine is a stupid way to deal with public concern about absent MPs.

My preferred solution is the holding of elections every three years. I argued in my submission:

The absence of members of Parliament is a concern – we have elected people in the expectation that they will take an active role in the passing of our laws and the holding of the Government to account. Prolonged or repeated absence of members of Parliament from the House is a matter of genuine public concern, but it is for the public to make what use it will of that information, not for the Clerk of the House...

The frequent absence of a member of Parliament is one of a number of factors voters may wish take into account when deciding how to vote. For myself, were I made aware of the repeated absence of a member of Parliament (presumably via their opponents or the media), I would be less inclined to vote for them, and less inclined to vote for the party that selected them. My vote – along with the votes of others – is the solution to repeated absence just as it is the solution to party-hopping.


The people of Te Atatu chose Chris Carter to represent them in Parliament until the next election. The voters who gave Labour their party vote did so knowing that that would mean that Chris Carter (number 7 on Labour's list) would probably get to serve. And they'll get to make their views known soon enough. In a democracy, there doesn't need to be legislation around things like MP absences or party-hopping. If it's a big deal for us, we get to kick them out.

If this same situation arose and there wasn't a $10 fine in the Civil List Act, people would still be using one of my least favourite words – loophole – and would probably be calling for change, but I doubt anyone would have suggested adding some system of quasi-fines to the Civil List Act as a solution.

This hasn't always been a problem. Other bits of law could have been used to remedy the perceived problem. Section 55 of the Electoral Act includes the following:

55 How vacancies created
(1) The seat of any member of Parliament shall become vacant—
(a) if ... for one whole session of Parliament he or she fails, without permission of the House of Representatives, to give his or her attendance in the House.


It's a pretty rudimentary requirement. I don't believe anyone has lost their seat by falling foul of it, and it's trivially easy to get around; even so, this provision is a dead letter. The House no longer sits in sessions. It could. It just doesn't. Instead of having the Governor-General prorogue Parliament, the House just adjourns itself. In practice, the only way an MP could lose his or her seat under this rule is to never turn up at all for the entire term – not even to be sworn in – at which point all the MPs lose their seats anyway. The practice of sitting as a single session has resulted in other changes in Parliament – many fewer Address in Reply debates for one – but a few Parliaments ago (I think 1999~2002) what is now standing order 89 was amended because it used to require that the third suspension of an MP after being “named” by the Speaker was for the remainder of the session. Someone (I'm guessing David McGee) will have pointed out that as the practice had evolved of holding a single session, this was now a rather harsh penalty. Suspension is now 24 hours for the first offence, a week for the second, and four weeks for the third and subsequent offences.

In an interview with Werewolf, Speaker Lockwood Smith argued:

The Speaker has the extraordinary power of being able to dock their pay. I mean, if I name a member – on the first occasion, they lose a day’s pay. If I name them a second time, they lose a week’s pay. I don’t know very many other people in New Zealand who have the power to dock anyone’s pay like that, but the Speaker has.


So why couldn't “naming” be the mechanism by which absent MPs can lose their pay?

First, it can only be used for grossly disorderly behaviour in the House. Secondly, I'm pretty sure the Speaker is wrong. There is no basis for the claim that MPs 'suspended from the service of the House' lose their pay: not in the Standing Orders (SO 91 states that “A member who is suspended from the service of the House may not enter the Chamber, vote, serve on a committee, or lodge questions or notices of motion.”), nor in the Civil List Act (in fact it requires that MPs be paid). But this gives a pointer for the direction for anyone who – like the Speaker – considers the status quo unsatisfactory.

Until 1996 Standing Orders provided that no member should be absent from the House for more than seven consecutive sitting days without obtaining a leave of absence: contravention of this Standing Order was a contempt of Parliament (punishable by the House after a Privileges Committee hearing). The rule went in the overhaul of Standing Orders that occurred before the first MMP Parliament, but there's no reason it couldn't work today.

That I get to vote next year is enough for me, but if the Speaker and other members of the House of Representatives think Parliament is brought into disrepute by absent members, the remedy is pretty straightforward. Lockwood Smith doesn't need to make a late submission to the Law Commission, and wait for the resulting legislation to traipse through Parliament; he can write a letter to the Standing Orders Committee asking them to consider whether wagging from the House should be a contempt of Parliament. I suspect its members would be receptive.

70

Because it is a big deal

The basic underpinning of Parliamentary Democracy, and Westminster Democracy in Particular, is that the Government, from the lowliest junior policy advisor, through the various ranks of the police, and other enforcement agencies, and all the way up to departmental CEOs, Ministers, and even the Prime Minister, can only do what Parliament allows them to do. In particular, the government can't levy taxes without parliamentary permission, and can only spend money in the amounts, and on the things, the Parliament allows them (usually by passing a budget). And it's been this way since at least 1688.

This is why – to a lawyer like me anyway – the abuse of ministerial credit cards is a big deal. Parliament has given ministers permission to spend money in the operation of their offices. These appropriations of taxpayer funds follow the same basic rules of all appropriations – their amount, scope (what the money may be spent on), and period (when the money may be spent), is regulated by the rules set down by Parliament in the budget – for ministerial expenses, these are the Estimates for Vote Ministerial Services.

There are a few bits of law it is useful to appreciate. An excerpt from the Bill of Rights 1688:

Levying money—That levying money for or to the use of the Crowne by pretence of prerogative without grant of Parlyament for longer time or in other manner then the same is or shall be granted is illegall.

And a more recent statement to the same effect – section 4(1) of the Public Finance Act 1989:

(1) The Crown or an Office of Parliament must not incur expenses or capital expenditure, except as expressly authorised by an appropriation, or other authority, by or under an Act.

And section 5:

The Crown or an Office of Parliament must not spend public money, except as expressly authorised by or under an Act (including this Act).

The scope of Vote Ministerial Services is contained in the budget (I'm using 2010, but there hasn't been substantial change):

This appropriation is limited to providing support services for Members of the Executive including office administration; accounting, personnel, information and communication technology; facilities management; media and other advisory services; and provision of residential accommodation services.

There's a separate appropriation for travel, which covers:

Payments for civil purposes for Members of the Executive's internal and external travel, pursuant to section 20A of the Civil List Act 1979.

They're both pretty broad, so the real detail is included in the Executive Travel, Accommodation, Attendance and Communications Services Determination, and a document entitled “Travel, Accommodation, Attendance, and Communication Services Available to Members of the Executive”. This last document is the one those interested in the real detail should focus on; among other things it sets out various principles (in clause 1.6) that govern the spending of money by Ministers, including:

Ultimately, members of the Executive are personally responsible for the way they use the public resources entrusted to them.
This personal responsibility cannot be avoided, even though delegations may exist for others to incur costs on a member of the Executive’s behalf.
...
Expenditure must only be incurred in respect of ministerial business.

These principles underlie the spending of all the money ministers get through Vote Ministerial Services. So, for example, even though specific travel allowances are included, if that spending is not “incurred in respect of ministerial business”, it will be outside the scope of the appropriation, and illegal. The catch-all comes near the end of the document – Ministers are entitled to publicly-funded operational resources, helpfully defined:

Operational resources means resources that are provided to assist members of the Executive to carry out ministerial business, including establishing and operating a ministerial office.

And right at the end, there are examples of operational resources:

1. Examples of goods and services that will generally be paid for:
(a) entertainment of visitors, staff and officials in their ministerial portfolio capacity
(b) memberships, sponsorships and fees
(c) koha
(d) ministerial gifts and wrapping
(e) flowers (including wreaths)
(f) passport photos
(g) briefcases and luggage for ministerial use
(h) stationery, printing, photocopying and couriers
(i) media transcripts
(j) postage
(k) kitchen supplies
(l) catering costs for portfolio related functions
(m) office staff farewell functions
(n) subscriptions and newspapers
(o) books relevant to the portfolio
(p) taxis relevant to ministerial portfolio business, where not otherwise covered by clause 3.5
(q) cellphone equipment, where not otherwise covered by clause 5.3.

2. Examples of goods and services that will generally not be paid for:
(a) haircuts and hairstyling
(b) groceries for personal use
(c) meals with family members
(d) everyday meals
(e) gifts for staff
(f) office staff Christmas functions where the amount exceeds $30 per person
(g) Dry cleaning except when travelling on official business
(h) Gym membership
(i) Alcohol unless it relates to a portfolio/ministerial function
(j) Cabinet morning tea and lunch
(k) Wine for wine auctions.

But, there's still the caveat, in clause 7.4, that:

Operational resources are not provided and may not be used-
(a) for personal or private benefit
...

And the overarching principles, including one I didn't mention earlier:

The principle that expenditure must be reasonable for the circumstances and able to withstand tax-payers’ scrutiny

There's scope for debate about some things, but it's pretty clear overall: if its personal, it's out. There are a couple of other things, pertinent to any discussion of ministerial credit cards. First this, noted in an article in the Dominion Post:

In a memo in March 2006, Ministerial Services assistant general manager Richard McDonald wrote to ministers' secretaries about the use of credit cards.

"There is a single issue which has come up again, use of credit cards for personal expenditure," Mr McDonald wrote.

"The policy is unarguable! Departmental credit cards are NOT to be used for personal expenditure regardless that the user pays back the sum after the fact."

Why this must be so, is pretty obvious: Parliament hasn't given permission for it. It could if it wanted to, but it hasn't. Even on a “I'll pay you back Monday” basis, personal spending of taxpayer money via ministerial credit cards is illegal.

But there's one final bit of law that is necessary to underscore the seriousness of this whole affair – if the Bill of Rights 1688 wasn't enough – back to the Public Finance Act:

76 Offences
...
(2) Every person commits an offence against this Act who—
...
(d) Does any act for the purpose of procuring for that person or for any other person or organisation—
(i) The improper payment of any public money or trust money; or
(ii) The improper use of any public financial resource.

77 Penalties for offences
(2) Every person who commits an offence against subsection (2) of section 76 of this Act is liable on summary conviction,—
(a) In the case of an individual, to imprisonment for a term not exceeding 12 months, or to a fine not exceeding $5,000:
...

That's why this is this a big deal. It's illegal. And not only is it illegal, those involved can face criminal consequences: even if they intended to – and did – pay it back immediately.

If they intended to pay it back, it's not theft; if they erroneously thought they were entitled to it, it's not theft; but section 76 of the Public Finance Act remains. Most of the culprits are just lucky that there's also a section 78:

78 Time for commencing proceedings
Notwithstanding section 14 of the Summary Proceedings Act 1957, any information in respect of any offence against this Act may be laid at any time within 2 years from the time when the matter of the information arose.

I'm not particularly inclined to give any of them the benefit of the doubt: “It wasn't clear I was entitled to it, so I took it anyway” is a pathetic excuse. We're probably too late for the most egregious abuses, but ministers and MPs should consider themselves on notice. It doesn't just look bad on the front page of the newspaper: improper use of a ministerial credit card is illegal, and it is an offence punishable by imprisonment.