Why lefties don't buy newspapers

The tech savvy left don't buy papers.

Ever since Rupert Murdoch ousted the saintly Harold Evans from the editorship of The Times in defiance of his own pledges to safeguard the title's editorial independence 30 years ago - the Australian media magnate has been a bogeyman for the British left.

But while the left-wing media - led by The Guardian - has won a series of historic battles with the News Corp empire, it will lose the long war because young, tech-savvy lefties on the whole don't buy newspapers.

Lefties' hatred of Rupe was fuelled by his cheerleading support for Margaret Thatcher through the eighties, his brutal suppression of the unions when he moved News International to Wapping in 1986 and his continuing apparent use of media power to further his own political objectives.

Revenge has been sweet since The Guardian's Nick Davies and Amelia Hill lobbed the journalistic equivalent of a hand grenade into the boardroom of News International by breaking the news in July last year that the News of the World had hacked the mobile phone of a missing schoolgirl who was later found murdered.

Since then many on the left have rejoiced at each new woe to face Murdoch and the News Corp family:

The closure of Murdoch's market leading Sunday daily, the News of the World. The collapse of Murdoch's bid to cement his hold on the UK media by taking over BSkyB. The decapitation of his newspaper interests on both sides of the atlantic with the resignations of  Rebekah Wade and Les Hinton (with the former facing criminal charges). Dozens of former Sun and News of the World journalists arrested and facing possible trial over allegations of bribery and phone-hacking Rupert's own heir-apparent James, stepping down from his role as News Corp Europe and Asia boss, sent back to the US with his tail between his legs.

Rupert himself subject to lengthy public interrogations - first from MPs on the Culture Committee (remember the custard pie) and then by the Leveson Inquiry.

Murdoch's political power in the UK forever neutered. Just a year ago, James Murdoch exchanged matey text messages with an eager to please UK Culture Secretary. Today, I suspect most UK MPs would rather pick up a rabid squirrel then a mobile phone with text messages  which have emanated from News Corp.

The Guardian phone-hacking investigation was on the whole a journalistic tour de force. But unlike the Telegraph's MPs' Expenses investigation of 2009, there has been no corresponding uplift in sales. Whereas the Telegraph kept its MPs' Expenses scoops for print, The Guardian released all its biggest hacking scoops online at around 4pm on the eve of print publication in line with its digital-first strategy.

The Guardian's web traffic has continued to go through the roof over the last year. But like everyone else, The Guardian is largely so far replacing print pounds with online pennies.

The left-of-centre press has always been in a minority in the UK - but it is becoming even more so, possibly because young lefties are less like to buy a paper than older, more conservative readers.

Looking at the three left of centre dailies: The Guardian sold 367,000 copies a day five years ago, it now stands at 214,128; The Independent 249,536 versus 98,636 today; the Daily Mirror 1,537,243 versus 1,084,355.

Collectively that is a sales decline of 35 per cent.

Looking at the main right of centre dailies, the Daily Mail was selling 2,300,420 copies a day five years ago versus 1,991,275 today; the Daily Express 760,086 versus 568,628; the Daily Telegraph 898,817 versus 576,790; The Times 629,157 versus 393, 187 and The Sun 3,047,527 versus 2,624,008.

That's collectively a drop of 19.4 per cent. Even if you lump the 200,000 odd daily sales of politically neutral ‘i’ in with the left-wing press it doesn't move the dial much. You are looking at around 1.5m daily sales for left-wing papers versus more than four times that for the right-wing dailies.

And don't forget paid-for digital subscriptions to The Times and Sunday Times now stand at around 250,000.

On the left only The Guardian has journalistic fire power to match the Mail and assembled forces of News International. But its trust-fund millions (in the form of holdings in the likes of Emap and Autotrader) won’t last forever.

So the message for left-wingers who care about the media is this. Enjoy your moment of schadenfreude by all means and cheer on The Guardian and Nick Davies from the sidelines. But if you want to support the sort of campaigning journalism which brought this historic realignment of media power about - you need to take your smug grin down to the newsagents and buy a newspaper (or a magazine for that matter!).

Photograph: Getty Images

Dominic Ponsford is editor of Press Gazette

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“It was like a religious ceremony”: What happened at Big Ben’s final bong?

Both inside and outside Parliament, people gathered to hear the clock’s final midday chime before undergoing repairs.

“It’s just hacks everywhere,” a photographer sighs, jamming his lens through a gap in Parliament’s railings to try and get a closer look.

New Palace Yard, Parliament’s courtyard directly below Big Ben, is filling with amused-looking journalists, waiting for the MPs who have promised to hold a “silent vigil”, heads bowed, to mark Big Ben’s final chime before four years of silence while the tower’s repaired.

About four of them turn up. Two by accident.

It’s five minutes to twelve. Tourists are gathering outside Westminster Tube, as tourists do best. A bigger crowd fills Parliament Square. More people than expected congregate outside, even if it’s the opposite within the Palace. The world and his phone are gazing up at the sad, resigned clock face.


“It’s quite controversial, isn’t it?” one elderly woman in an anorak asks her friend. They shrug and walk off. “Do you know what is this?” an Italian tourist politely asks the tiny press pack, gesturing to the courtyard. No one replies. It’s a good question.

“This is the last time,” says another tourist, elated, Instagram-poised.

“DING DONG DING DONG,” the old bell begins.

Heads down, phones up.


It finishes the on-the-hour tune for the last time, and then gives its much-anticipated resignation statement:

“BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG.”

Applause, cheers, and even some tears.


But while the silly-seasoned journalists snigger, the crowd is enthusiastic.

“It’s quite emotional,” says David Lear, a 52-year-old carer from Essex, who came up to London today with his work and waited 45 minutes beneath Big Ben to hear it chime.

He feels “very, very sad” that the bell is falling silent, and finds the MPs’ vigil respectful. “I think lots of people feel quite strongly about it. I don’t know why they’re doing it. During the war it carries on, and then they turn it off for a health and safety reason.”

“I don’t know why they can’t have some speakers half way down it and just play the chime,” he adds. “So many tourists come especially to listen to the chime, they gather round here, getting ready for it to go – and they’re going to switch it off. It’s crazy.”

Indeed, most of the surrounding crowd appears to be made up of tourists. “I think that it was gorgeous, because I’ve never heard him,” smiles Cora, an 18-year-old German tourist. “It was a great experience.”

An Australian couple in their sixties called Jane and Gary are visiting London for a week. “It was like a religious ceremony, everybody went quiet,” laughs Gary. “I hope they don’t forget where they put the keys to start it again in four years’ time.”

“When we first got here, the first thing we did was come to see it,” adds Jane, who is also positive about the MPs who turned up to watch. “I think it’s good they showed a bit of respect. Because they don’t usually show much respect, do they?”

And, as MPs mouthing off about Big Ben are challenged on their contrasting reactions to Grenfell, that is precisely the problem with an otherwise innocent show of sentimentality.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.