Whatever happened to libel reform?

The need for changing libel law remains urgent.

Once upon a time there was a misconceived and illiberal libel case. In fact, there were many; but this one stood out. The claim brought against Dr Simon Singh by the now discredited British Chiropractic Association was so repellent on its facts that via the internet and -- towards the end -- the mainstream media, it became the main basis for a libel reform campaign which in turn led to all major political parties committing to reform in their manifestos.

Simon Singh did not win that case outright. Instead, the BCA withdrew the case after he appealed successfully to the Court of Appeal on just a preliminary point. By that stage the case had lasted two years and Simon Singh tells me he was exposed to £250,000 of legal costs. The case was still nowhere near a full trial. And such a waste of time and money is not untypical in libel litigation.

But the fundamental problem with libel is not really the costs: in itself libel litigation is not more or less expensive than any other civil litigation. Nor are the delays exceptional: all High Court litigation plods along at a frustratingly slow pace. The problem is the wrongful use to which libel law is put. In essence, libel law has badly lost its way.

Libel is used (and commercially promoted by claimant lawyers) as a tool of "reputation management". This means that it is deployed so as to get things taken down from websites, or to ensure things are not published in print editions. However, this is a cynical distortion of what libel should be about.

Instead, libel law should be about the vindication of reputations, and not their "management". The clumsy but coercive law of libel should not be a mere PR technique. However, it is routinely used almost as if it provides a property right over the words of others. With one lawyer's letter, content is removed or not published in the first place.

There are two main reasons why libel has ended up in such an unfortunate state. First, there are problems with the tort itself: it is still actionable without the need to show damages, and the claimant effectively has to show nothing other than publication to bring a case. Accordingly, a libel case is very easy to launch -- and thereby threaten to launch.

Second, for decades libel served the useful function of regulating the popular press (whilst maintaining the fiction that the press was not being regulated). Libel litigation was generally a Fleet Street affair, with all the editors and lawyers involved working within a few hundred yards of each other. There were occasional cases where outsiders were caught up in libel -- for example, the McLibel two -- but for the most part, libel prevented tabloid excesses in practice, even if the substantive law was flawed. But those monochrome days have gone, and libel law is not well placed for dealing with internet publications.

There are currently few high profile libel cases, so libel is less news worthy. The Courts have also modified some of the abuses of libel law and practice; for example, it is now less difficult (though still not straightforward) to strike out cases as "abuses of process". But there is only so much the courts can do. There needs to be primary legislation. Things which would be in the public interest to publish are not being published, just because of the law of libel.

Is reform any nearer? Slightly. Over the last year or so, the Ministry of Justice have put together a draft Defamation Bill. It contains many sensible modernizing reforms. The draft Bill has been welcomed by a parliamentary joint committee. But there is still a real risk that the government will not include it in the next Queen's Speech.

So, if you are around London today, do go and join the lobby of parliament for libel reform, from 6pm onwards. And take an interest in the draft Bill, and keep watching the campaign. All the efforts of Simon Singh and many others will be for nothing if, at this late moment, the campaign for libel reform fails.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and a media lawyer. His Jack of Kent blog closely followed the BCA v Singh case.

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and author of the Jack of Kent blog.

His legal journalism has included popularising the Simon Singh libel case and discrediting the Julian Assange myths about his extradition case.  His uncovering of the Nightjack email hack by the Times was described as "masterly analysis" by Lord Justice Leveson.

David is also a solicitor and was successful in the "Twitterjoketrial" appeal at the High Court.

(Nothing on this blog constitutes legal advice.)

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Arsène Wenger: how can an intelligent manager preside over such a hollowed-out team?

The Arsenal manager faces a frustrating legacy.

Sport is obviously not all about winning, but it is about justified hope. That ­distinction has provided, until recently, a serious defence of Arsène Wenger’s Act II – the losing part. Arsenal haven’t won anything big for 13 years. But they have been close enough (and this is a personal view) to sustain the experience of investing emotionally in the story. Hope turning to disappointment is fine. It’s when the hope goes, that’s the problem.

Defeat takes many forms. In both 2010 and 2011, Arsenal lost over two legs to Barcelona in the Champions League. Yet these were rich and rewarding sporting experiences. In the two London fixtures of those ties, Arsenal drew 2-2 and won 2-1 against the most dazzling team in the world. Those nights reinvigorated my pride in sport. The Emirates Stadium had the best show in town. Defeat, when it arrived in Barcelona, was softened by gratitude. We’d been entertained, more than entertained.

Arsenal’s 5-1 surrender to Bayern Munich on 15 February was very different. In this capitulation by instalments, the fascination was macabre rather than dramatic. Having long given up on discerning signs of life, we began the post-mortem mid-match. As we pored over the entrails, the curiosity lay in the extent of the malady that had brought down the body. The same question, over and over: how could such an intelligent, deep-thinking manager preside over a hollowed-out team? How could failings so obvious to outsiders, the absence of steel and resilience, evade the judgement of the boss?

There is a saying in rugby union that forwards (the hard men) determine who wins, and the backs (the glamour boys) decide by how much. Here is a footballing equivalent: midfielders define matches, attacking players adorn them and defenders get the blame. Yet Arsenal’s players as good as vacated the midfield. It is hard to judge how well Bayern’s playmakers performed because they were operating in a vacuum; it looked like a morale-boosting training-ground drill, free from the annoying presence of opponents.

I have always been suspicious of the ­default English critique which posits that mentally fragile teams can be turned around by licensed on-field violence – a good kicking, basically. Sporting “character” takes many forms; physical assertiveness is only one dimension.

Still, it remains baffling, Wenger’s blind spot. He indulges artistry, especially the mercurial Mesut Özil, beyond the point where it serves the player. Yet he won’t protect the magicians by surrounding them with effective but down-to-earth talents. It has become a diet of collapsing soufflés.

What held back Wenger from buying the linchpin midfielder he has lacked for many years? Money is only part of the explanation. All added up, Arsenal do spend: their collective wage bill is the fourth-highest in the League. But Wenger has always been reluctant to lavish cash on a single star player, let alone a steely one. Rather two nice players than one great one.

The power of habit has become debilitating. Like a wealthy but conservative shopper who keeps going back to the same clothes shop, Wenger habituates the same strata of the transfer market. When he can’t get what he needs, he’s happy to come back home with something he’s already got, ­usually an elegant midfielder, tidy passer, gets bounced in big games, prone to going missing. Another button-down blue shirt for a drawer that is well stuffed.

It is almost universally accepted that, as a business, Arsenal are England’s leading club. Where their rivals rely on bailouts from oligarchs or highly leveraged debt, Arsenal took tough choices early and now appear financially secure – helped by their manager’s ability to engineer qualification for the Champions League every season while avoiding excessive transfer costs. Does that count for anything?

After the financial crisis, I had a revealing conversation with the owner of a private bank that had sailed through the turmoil. Being cautious and Swiss, he explained, he had always kept more capital reserves than the norm. As a result, the bank had made less money in boom years. “If I’d been a normal chief executive, I’d have been fired by the board,” he said. Instead, when the economic winds turned, he was much better placed than more bullish rivals. As a competitive strategy, his winning hand was only laid bare by the arrival of harder times.

In football, however, the crash never came. We all wrote that football’s insane spending couldn’t go on but the pace has only quickened. Even the Premier League’s bosses confessed to being surprised by the last extravagant round of television deals – the cash that eventually flows into the hands of managers and then the pockets of players and their agents.

By refusing to splash out on the players he needed, whatever the cost, Wenger was hedged for a downturn that never arrived.

What an irony it would be if football’s bust comes after he has departed. Imagine the scenario. The oligarchs move on, finding fresh ways of achieving fame, respectability and the protection achieved by entering the English establishment. The clubs loaded with debt are forced to cut their spending. Arsenal, benefiting from their solid business model, sail into an outright lead, mopping up star talent and trophies all round.

It’s often said that Wenger – early to invest in data analytics and worldwide scouts; a pioneer of player fitness and lifestyle – was overtaken by imitators. There is a second dimension to the question of time and circumstance. He helped to create and build Arsenal’s off-field robustness, even though football’s crazy economics haven’t yet proved its underlying value.

If the wind turns, Arsène Wenger may face a frustrating legacy: yesterday’s man and yet twice ahead of his time. 

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit