How do we stop a new press regulator "going native"?

Lessons from the failings of the PCC.

If there was any question left that the British media establishment has failed to grasp the enormity of the issues raised by the hacking scandal this should have been dispelled by Presbof’s comprehensive plan for a new regulator.

There are some massive changes proposed in the new document which, if Presbof is allowed to proceed with them, will have huge ramifications for all professional journalists in the UK.

It now remains to be seen whether Lord Justice Leveson can be persuaded that the poachers really can turn gamekeepers and whether those who were ultimately responsible for the failings of the PCC are the right people to come up with a new system.

My view is that the document goes some way to addressing the failings of the PCC – particularly with its new powers to investigate major failings and ensure the industry learns the lessons of disasters like phone-hacking and the reporting of the McCann and Jefferies cases.

But there are also some  flaws in their proposals.

The document has come about as a result of private meetings between an elite group of individuals – namely the major press owners. There has been no public consultation and no effort event to canvas the views of ordinary journalists. Presbof clearly believes that he who pays the piper calls the tune – the owners are prepared to fund the £2.25m running costs of the new regulator and the no-doubt enormous set-up costs without seeking help from the State. But I doubt whether Leveson will wear a new system which remains pretty well controlled by the press owners.

The regulator’s board would comprise two public appointees, an “independent” chair and two Presbof appointees. The owners would also control the code committee by appointing the majority of editors to it and they would appoint five of the 13-member adjudications panel.

With such a large number of appointees to the regulator controlled by the owners and drawn from a small pool of elite journalists, is the new regulator really going to be able to ensure it doesn’t “go native” as has apparently been the case with the PCC?

The new regulator proposes retaining the existing PCC system for dealing with complaints – with the major sanction remaining the publication of a critical adjudication. The document does not state whether front page mistakes should now warrant front-page apologies. But I suspect for this aspect of the plan to fly that will have to be the case.

In cases of extreme wrongdoing the new regulator will be able to commission independent three-person inquiries comprising an industry representative and two independent figures. The strict terms of the contract that members of the body will sign up to should ensure compliance with these inquiries. The strictest censure will be a fine of up to one per cent of turnover to a maximum of £1m.

This detail must betray the fact that the likes of Telegraph Media Group and Associated Newspapers call the shots at Presbof. Why should massive publishers be insulated from the one per cent rule by virtue of the £1m maximum? £1m legal cases are not unusual for the big Fleet Street players.

It doesn’t seem to have occurred to Presbof that the views of ordinary journalists on the shop floor need to be incorporated into their thinking. To his credit PCC chairman Lord Hunt, whose proposals are subtly different, has suggested that they should via some sort of whistleblowers’ system.

At the heart of the hacking scandal, the treatment of the McCanns and the Jefferies case were systematic failings in the industry which go right to the top. At the News of the World there was a clearly a culture of ‘get the story at whatever the cost’ which emanated from Rupert Murdoch down through the senior executives to editors and journalists on the ground.

If Fleet Street is to change its culture, and place ethics above profits and scoops, the owners need to open up this process and accept that everyone in this country has a stake in the success of the press and the maintenance of journalistic standards – not just those who bank the profits. They do this to an extent via the public appointees but I’d argue that a broader range of industry voices needs to be heard as well.

The most dramatic changes proposed by Presbof are to lock publishers into the new system by controlling access to press cards, PA and major advertising. This solves the Desmond question while allowing mavericks like Private Eye to go their own way.

What follows now will be a high stakes game of poker. Presbof has shown its hand. Leveson cannot ignore the huge amount of work and thought that has gone into this offer of reform from the industry. But neither can he ignore the many other voices he has heard over the course of his huge inquiry. There is nothing in the Presbof proposals, for instance, to tackle the widespread concerns about allegations Rupert Murdoch has traded media power for political influence.

It will be fascinating to see how this all plays out in October when Lord Justice Leveson puts forward his proposals and Parliament is then left holding the casting vote.

This article originally appeared in Press Gazette.

Photograph: Getty Images

Dominic Ponsford is editor of Press Gazette

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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue