For the Guardian to complain of a war on journalism is
extraordinary
It helped to start this war that it’s now falling
victim to
If there was a Nobel Prize for Double Standards,
Britain’s chattering classes would win it every year. This year, following
their expressions of spittle-flecked outrage over the detention of Glenn
Greenwald’s partner David Miranda by anti-terrorism police at Heathrow airport,
they’d have to be given a special Lifetime Achievement Award for Double
Standards.
For the newspaper editors, politicians and concerned
tweeters now getting het up about the state’s interference in journalistic
activity, about what they call the state’s ‘war on journalism’, are the very
same people – the very same – who over the past two years cheered the state
harassment of tabloid journalists; watched approvingly as tabloid journalists
were arrested; turned a blind eye when tabloid journalists’ effects were rifled
through by the police; said nothing about the placing of tabloid journalists on
limbo-like, profession-destroying bail for months on end; said ‘Well, what do
you expect?’ when material garnered by tabloid journalists through illegal
methods was confiscated; applauded when tabloid journalists were imprisoned for
the apparently terrible crime of listening in on the conversations of our
hereditary rulers.
For these cheerleaders of the state’s two-year war on
redtop journalism now to gnash their teeth over the state’s poking of its nose
into the affairs of the Guardianis
extraordinary. It suggests that what they lack in moral consistency they more
than make up for with brass neck.
Everything that is now being done to the Guardian has already been done to the tabloid
press, a hundred times over, and often at the behest of the Guardian. For all the initial
depictions of Mr Miranda as ‘just Glenn Greenwald’s partner’, in fact he was
ferrying encrypted information from the NSA leaker Edward Snowden on flights
paid for by the Guardian.
That is, he was detained and questioned over journalistic material acquired
through illegal means. That’s already happened to the tabloids. Over the past
two years of post-phone hacking, post-News of the World harassment of tabloid hacks by the
state, 104 people have been arrested, questioned, usually put on unjustly
elongated bail, and sometimes imprisoned. These include many journalists but
also office secretaries and other non-journalist types, like Mr Miranda, who
stand accused of handling illegally acquired material. The 104’s crimes include
‘disclosure of confidential information’ – not that dissimilar to what
Greenwald and Miranda have done in terms of getting hold of and publishing
Snowden’s illegally leaked confidential material. Yet while the redtop writers
rot in legal limbo, Mr Miranda becomes a chattering-class cause célèbre.
Those who rather fancifully claim that Mr Miranda is
‘just Glenn Greenwald’s partner’ say it is outrageous that the loved ones of
journalists are now being humiliated and harassed by the state. Again, that’s
already happened to the tabloids. The private effects of redtop journalists’
partners have been pored over and sometimes confiscated by the police. In the
words of the Sun’s Trevor
Kavanagh, during the many dawn raids on the homes of tabloid journalists (no
polite questioning at airports for these scumbags), ‘Wives and children have
been humiliated as up to 20 officers at a time rip up floorboards and sift
through intimate possessions, love letters and entirely private documents’. If
the state has become a dab hand at harassing the loved ones of journalists,
it’s because it has had two years’ practice and no one batted an eyelid.
Guardian editor Alan
Rusbridger has now revealed that state officials visited his offices and forced
his staff to destroy confidential information revealed by Edward Snowden.
Again, the tabloids have been there. In July 2011, Metropolitan Police raided
the offices of the Daily Star and confiscated notebooks and computer
hard drives. The News of the
World turned over to the
police an extraordinary amount of journalistic material, from address books to
computer disks to reporters’ notes. For the liberal set and Twitterati to spill
their macchiatos in horror and talk about a ‘war on journalism’ in response to
Rusbridger’s revelations of a visit from two ‘shadowy Whitehall figures’ is
perverse when you consider that for the past two years the tabloid press has
been the subject of the
largest criminal investigation in British history. Nearly 200 police
officers, £40million and three years have been devoted to the state’s mission
to cleanse the tabloids of their filthiness. Now that’s what I call a war on
journalism.
The similarities between what redtop journalists did
and what leak-reliant broadsheet journalists are doing is striking. Both got
material through less-than-legal methods – tabloid hacks by hacking into
people’s voicemails, broadsheet hacks by taking encrypted memory sticks from
wanted men who exposed confidential government info. Both are in the business
of trawling – tabloid hacks trawled voicemail messages in the hunt for
something interesting; broadsheet hacks trawl through miles of leaked official
documentation in search of striking political factlets. But there is one key
difference between the redtop brigade and the broadsheet lot – the former have
been treated by the chattering classes as fair game for state harassment and
police intimidation, while if the latter are so much as looked at by a police
officer there will be headline outrage, political handwringing, a million
outraged tweets a minute, and demand for judicial inquiries. Disobedient redtop
hacks are thrown to the wolves; disobedient broadsheet hacks are protected from
the wolves by a tight-knit circle of influential opinion-formers, concerned
politicians and lawyerly campaigners.
But, believe it or not, the double standards run even
deeper than that. For today’s outraged defenders of Greenwald, Miranda and the Guardian from a state war on journalism were
the architects of the state’s far larger, far more
destructive war on tabloid journalism. From the Guardian itself to Labour MP Tom Watson to
various influential members of the Twitterati, many of those now shocked to
find officials harassing journalists for doing allegedly dodgy things were at
the forefront of demanding that officialdom harass redtop hacks for doing dodgy
things. If you unleash and cheer a war on journalism by the state, you really
cannot be surprised when the warmongers eventually put you and your journalism
in the crosshairs, too.
Ah, the defenders of Greenwald and Miranda will say –
but Our Journalism is in the public interest whereas Their Journalism was not.
But who decides what is in the public interest? Two hundred police officers?
Lord Justice Leveson? The state? The Guardian?
Or should it be us, the public, through open and frank and free debate rather
than under the cosh of police officers telling us from on high that tabloid
journalism is ‘salacious gossip, not what I would describe as being remotely in
the public interest’ (in the words of Scotland Yard’s Sue Akers during the
phone-hacking scandal)? Over the past two years, the Guardian and others granted officialdom, the
police force itself, the awesome power to decide and decree what kinds of
journalism are in the public interest – and now, lo and behold, those officials
are playing the same trick on the Guardian itself, describing its hackery as
dangerous rather than enlightening, as a threat to the peace rather than in the
public interest.
The detention of Mr Miranda was outrageous. So has
been the detention of scores of tabloid journalists. The lesson of the Miranda
affair is pretty straightforward: don’t ever cheer state assaults on the press
and press freedom, because in doing so you will empower the state to be the
judge, jury and executioner of journalism and to clamp down on every hack it
feels uncomfortable with – including, eventually, you.
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