It used to be said, especially by English lawyers, that it was better that 100 guilty men go free than that one innocent man go to prison. It was always a nonsense, but it summed up the Utopian ideal of the criminal trial — one that would ensure the punishment of the law-breaker while making equally certain that the innocent were not as risk of the same fate.

Most societies, in wildly varying ways, have claimed to be aiming for that outcome. None has succeeded, and many no longer seem to be trying. Today, in Britain and the United States, the old slogan of lofty principle would be very different: “The most important thing is to catch and punish criminals and if, in the process, we also punish the guiltless, well, tough.”

Sadakat Kadri traces the development of the criminal trial through the ages — the book is subtitled A History from Socrates to O. J. Simpson — with verve, intelligence, humour and clarity. Rather than trying to develop a coherent chronological structure, he has chosen, wisely, to alight on a few themes — the Inquisition, the witch trials culminating in Salem, the Moscow show trials, war crimes tribunals from Nuremberg to the Hague, and, of course the jury system.

Unfairness is the common thread that emerges across the centuries. The theory of the “fair trial” as human right is an invention of the 20th century. In the early Middle Ages, guilt or innocence could be determined by putting the accused through an ordeal (if he survived he wasn’t guilty) or by making him fight his accuser (trial by battle was only abolished in England in 1819). Later, “evidence” of guilt obtained by torture or by false witness became common.

Trumped-up charges were the mainstay of trials against heretics, witches, critics of Stalin, and are still the basis of trials of many countries today.

The trial which depends on the honest evidence of witnesses who actually saw the crime committed or could otherwise shed light on it, coupled with a verdict reached by an impartial judge or a jury, is a relatively new concept, taken down different paths by the French inquisitorial and the English adversarial systems. Each has its advantages and its flaws; each leads — too often — to miscarriages of justice.

Kadri is not optimistic about the future integrity of criminal trials in our current climate.

The Trial ranges widely. Kadri, a barrister, seems equally at ease discussing the place of trials in religion as in dissecting Jung’s attitude to them (trials define some people as bad so that the rest of us can feel good). His research has been vast, but he conveys it with a light and entertaining touch. His accounts of some of the most significant trials of the past 2,000 years — not all of them well known — are pithy and clear. He tells good stories, deftly managing to mix anecdote and serious analysis. An impressive performance.