The time when Iorworth Hoare, the £7m "jackpot rapist", is no doubt busy compiling his Christmas shopping list is a good moment for the government to reconsider the issue of jackpot winners' privacy. It may wish that it was not possible for the likes of Hoare to be "outed", thereby sullying the Lottery's reputation. But there is less of a case in favour of a blanket right to anonymity for the many articulate, more or less likeable people who win on the Lottery. Why should paying a pound for a ticket in a draw - a contract as for any other good or service - bestow a right to privacy if we should be lucky enough to win?
The "right of privacy" is imposed by the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport on the National Lottery Commission, which in turn enforces it upon Camelot. In the Lottery's early days, when jackpot levels were unprecedented, this provision was justified. The media hunted for major winners, even when they tried to avoid publicity. Would they find themselves being blackmailed, hijacked, burgled or just plain bothered? With so much uncertainty, caution was appropriate.
At the start, the press was more of a problem than the criminal fraternity. During 1995, after a tabloid paper leaked a jackpot winner's identity in Blackburn, Peter Davis, the then Lottery regulator, commissioned a special review. It remains the only instance of serious concern, and Camelot was cleared of any impropriety.
The National Lottery was set up as a form of gambling that did not look, taste or feel like gambling. Time - together with the government's planned liberalisation of the gambling sector - is dissolving the differences between the Lottery and its competitors. The Lottery has to compete hard to keep players. This means enabling it to promote itself properly.
Protecting winners has now become a straitjacket on good PR. Less than a year ago, Camelot said: "Halting [the quarterly] sales decline has been driven by four key factors [one being] . . . taking a much more proactive approach to publicity, with a substantial increase in positive media coverage of Lottery winners . . . " If this is to continue, the right to privacy has to go.
We are used to large jackpots, and concern about how winners would be treated has receded. Jackpots are often shared by syndicates and jackpot sizes have shrunk. The National Lottery has become part of our everyday lives. In fact, "protection" doesn't really apply in most cases anyway. If a win is not substantial, the claim process involves going into a public place such as a post office or newsagent to claim it, unless one claims by post. These winners don't need protection - it's no different from winning on a slot machine.
But privacy is not necessary for jackpot winners, either. Jackpot prizes are growing in other sectors, and there is no justification for Lottery winners being singled out and wrapped up in cotton wool. It is common for prize competitions to commit significant winners to receiving publicity. And publicity does not put off callers to Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, or The Vault, which also make big payouts.
Freedom from this restriction would allow Camelot - and any successor - to compete with the ever-encroaching leisure and gambling market by utilis-ing fully its most potent marketing asset: the winners themselves. Their winning experience keeps alive the hopes of many others by reminding them of the possibility and the benefits of a win.
Winners should not be thrown without regard into the media's oncom- ing headlights. Having no right to anonymity is not the same as an obligation to undertake publicity: it is a question of reasons ahead of rights. The reasons should be listened to.
A duty of care on the operator should replace the blanket protection and thus avoid exposing winners who are vulnerable or whose best interests might be compromised by outside interest. This would be enforceable by the regulator, but no responsible operator would wish to expose truly reluctant winners, or those whom it felt would damage its image. Bad PR is in nobody's interests. For their part, the media would still be obliged to follow the Press Complaints Commission's code of practice in relation to privacy.
The National Lottery's winners are its best advertisements. They are real, they come in various shapes and sizes, and they do delightfully human things with their money. They are not "on message", and their smiles are clearly genuine. Camelot tries to persuade winners to step into the light. But out of the top 20 jackpot winners in National Lottery history, only eight have done so. However, there is nothing to say that they did this because they were vulnerable. It may be that they simply didn't fancy it.
Removing the right to privacy would not require an act of parliament. It could be accomplished at the stroke of a pen. The government should do it now, while it is liberalising the gambl-ing sector. In the tenth year of the National Lottery, that freedom would be a very welcome - and valuable - birthday present.
