A frown of deep concern furrowed the cabinet minister’s brow as he stared into
my eyes and told me that the freedom of the press was dear to his heart. But
what if the wrongdoings of the fourth estate, the buggings and the
phone-taps of politicians and celebrities, proved to be systemic? In that
case the government might find it impossible to restrain the righteous anger
of the House of Commons. Statutory regulation of the press could swiftly
follow.
His concern for us folks “drinking” in what David Mellor once called “the last
chance saloon” of newspaper vice may have been genuine. Yet out of nowhere
some lines about the fate of the oysters in Lewis Carroll’s Walrus and the
Carpenter came into my head: “ ‘I weep for you,’ the Walrus said: ‘I deeply
sympathize.’ With sobs and tears he sorted out those of the largest size.”
Not a lot of love is lost between politicians and the press these days. All
sides of the House are still seething at the newspaper revelations about
their expenses, which have brought down upon their heads the wrath of voters
and angry constituents. Some have lost their jobs. Westminster is thirsting
for revenge. The government, which the public blames for failing to clear up
this mess long ago, is also at odds with newspapers which think its time is
up.
For many Labour MPs, The Guardian’s allegations against Andy Coulson, the Tory
communications chief and former News of the World editor, therefore came as
welcome relief. Coulson is a lightning rod for a series of discontents. His
scalp, so precious to the Conservative leader, David Cameron, would be quite
a trophy for Labour. It would also be a blow to their most-hated enemy,
George Osborne, the shadow chancellor, who recommended Coulson for the job
despite being the victim of a lurid story himself in the News of the World.
Lazy comparisons are made between Cameron’s man and Tony Blair’s spin-doctor,
Alastair Campbell, as both were journalists. But Coulson was an ambitious
executive; Campbell a tribally Labour columnist with strongly defined
politics. Although Conservative by instinct, Coulson is less interested in
policy than giving technical advice. He will typically offer the Tory leader
suggestions about the soundbite that will catch the attention of the 10
o’clock television news. As an Essex man and a state school boy, Coulson
also helps Cameron keep in touch with the nonmetropolitan voters beyond
Notting Hill. But that’s about as far as it goes.
The Conservative leader values Coulson for his professional competence.
“Campbell’s temperament was Celtic, prone to extremes of emotion,” says a
shadow cabinet member, “Andy is a cooler customer whether the press is good
or bad.” He is part of a team, not a lone star. Steve Hilton develops Tory
strategy – the brand, as it is called – through rhetoric and policy while Ed
Llewellyn, an old Etonian chum of Cameron, is chief of staff.
Coulson has chopped no shadow cabinet minister off at the knees, yet, and he
is disappointingly respectable, whereas Campbell once wrote pornography. But
that is the way of Fleet Street. When I started out in this business, the
wife-swappers could be found at the arch-Conservative broadsheet, The Daily
Telegraph.
Still smarting from the loss of Gordon Brown’s press adviser, Damian McBride,
after the exposure of his “black ops”, No 10 wants to take Coulson out.
Peter Mandelson, John Prescott and Campbell himself went prematurely for the
jugular before waiting to see how the story ran. The Tories have stuck to
two lines that have held: Coulson resigned his editorship after wrongdoing
occurred on his watch but he has subsequently committed no sins of omission
or commission.
That said, the Tories should mind their language. Cameron should not have said
he was “relaxed” about the allegations - that sounds like vintage Mandelson
and Blair, circa 1995-97. The public is not relaxed about unreasonable
breaches of privacy in the lives of celebrities and ordinary folk. The
Conservative leader has to take the conduct of his inner circle most
seriously: the voters are understandably tired of slimy cabals and spin. All
press advisers since Bernard Ingham “span” for Margaret Thatcher have
attracted odium. Coulson will have to work doubly hard to avoid their fate.
He knows he can’t afford to be “the story” for long.
MPs will be watching carefully. Are the press in general vulnerable? Red top
intrusions into the private lives of celebrities have never been popular.
Juries in libel actions used to award eyewatering damages until the tabloids
started cleaning up their act. But recent polling evidence shows that the
stock of broadsheet papers, like this one, is high – higher than that of the
BBC.
The Sunday Times - whose parent company is News International, also owners of
the News of the World - has long specialised in stories exposing political
corruption. The Daily Telegraph’s gamble on publishing the records of MPs,
gained by underhand means, has also vindicated the role of a hard-nosed
press. Ultimately that paper was relying on public sentiment for protection.
If juries think reporters have exposed wrongdoing, they may forgive the
newspaper the means by which it exposed it. But it’s a fine line.
The vices of newspapers are more akin to those of bankers than of MPs.
Ferocious competition, a desire to sell more papers through scoops, drives
us on. As with the City, some absurd risks have been taken. At one time it
seemed that every investigative reporter was trying to break into Buckingham
Palace to prove that security there needed tightening. Yet it would be wrong
to impose more restraints on British newspapers already shackled by some of
the most ferocious libel laws in the free world.
To listen to some commentators you would also think the virginity of the press
had just been violated. Back in the 1970s it wasn’t just the prurient press
that relied on odd methods. The prig press, too, were in receipt of the
stolen goods of politically motivated burglaries. My own father’s office -
he was a tough free enterprise campaigner - was turned over a couple of
times and they weren’t after the petty cash. Yet not so long ago, the
youthful privacy of Princes William and Harry was respected by all papers.
The state, too, was formerly more outrageous in its illegal activities. Then
it was malign, now it is usually bungling. Peter Wright of MI5 admitted
“bugging and burglaring his way across London”. This made some people very
paranoid.I remember my father having conversations with Colonel David
Stirling, founder of the SAS, who had plans to keep the power stations
running in the event ofa general strike. He suspected the government was
tapping his phone. When clicks on the line occurred, my mischievous father
would intone solemnly: “Success is assured. Tony Wedgwood Benn is with us in
the plot.”
There is a curious symmetry between the plight of backbench MPs and
journalists. The government is seeking to impose stiff bureaucratic
regulation on the Commons through its proposed Independent Parliamentary
Standards Authority. Yet most of the politicians’ worst abuses can be
corrected by the proper application of the Freedom of Information Act. As
long as we know for what MPs are claiming, we can be satisfied that the
system is clean. And as long as the voters know how MPs get extra income,
they can make up their own minds on their conduct.
Our legislators should not be governed by new laws and commissions that
curtail their freedoms: like newspapers, they have to observe the old ones.
Frank Field, the most upright man in parliament, resists this supervision;
his colleague Denis MacShane dubs such a body an Iranian-style “Council of
Guardians”. A Council of Guardians for newspapers, too, would be a step back
for freedom. One Guardian is enough.
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