When does licence become invention?

Johann Hari has gone one step too far.

We all do it -- journalists, historians, even human beings. We all tinker with the truth in order to create an actuality that feels more truthful than the truth itself. How many times have you deliberately misquoted someone in order to make that anecdote a little bit funnier? How many times have you retrospectively put words into your own mouth in order to banish an espirit d'escalier? How quickly "I wish I'd said" becomes "what I said"! In fact, claiming that you said something you meant to say is considered so acceptable that even MPs are allowed to edit their speeches in Hansard. The relationship between what actually happened and what we say that happened is a fraught one, as every police detective will tell you.

I'm having a similar problem with my current book project, which is a new history of the Great Escape. Some of the RAF officers' memoirs are at such a huge variance to what they told MI9 investigators after the war, that it is now almost impossible to even get near the truth. This isn't because they were liars (OK, a couple were), but because they had told the stories so many times, over so many decades, that the natural tendency to exaggerate, inflate, massage and entertain has twisted the truth into something that is nearer to fiction than fact. For historians, the best you can do is to go with what your knowledge tells you is right, and to trust testimony made nearer the event than, say, at a speech made at a golf club last week. Anyway, for me, chasing the unobtainable -- that is, the truth -- is part of the fun of writing history.

Because the truth is a flakey place indeed, I'm somewhat sympathetic to the plight in which Johann Hari of the Independent now finds himself. Journalists face the same problem of representing the truth as historians, but they have to deal with it on a much tighter timescale. And, unlike historians (ahem), journalists are under a lot of pressure to deliver something punchy and immediately appealing. In other words, the temptation to sex up the dossier is huge.

I remember once writing a piece for the Times on the archaeological work going on at London Bridge during the building of the new Tube station. My features editor asked whether we could say that the archaeologists had discovered a Roman brothel. I said it was possible, as there were often brothels at the entrances to cities, but there was no proof. He told me to put that in, and -- you've guessed it -- he cut out my disclaimer, and the piece appeared the next morning claiming that the Museum of London had found a Roman brothel. Cue angry letter, which I left him to deal with.

But former colleagues and I did worse, far worse. One was sent to Heathrow Airport to interview women in WH Smith about their holiday reading. Unsurprisingly, he couldn't be bothered to go, and he went back home and wrote the piece from there. I recall chucking in the odd line to this great work of fiction. I was particularly proud of my "totally made up woman in her late 30s", the ambiguity of which sailed very close to the wind. In the mid 1990s, I once covered a Rolling Stones comeback concert in Sheffield for the news pages in which I was supposed to interview members of the audience, but I was too gauche for some reason, and just made up the quotes, because -- and this is perhaps salient -- I thought my quotes would better tell the story than the people I was supposed to be talking to.

Because of my guilty hack past, I initially found it hard to throw stones at Hari's misleading insertion of interviewees' previously spoken or written words into an interview. His justification seems almost plausible:

So occasionally, at the point in the interview where the subject has expressed an idea, I've quoted the idea as they expressed it in writing, rather than how they expressed it in speech. It's a way of making sure the reader understands the point that (say) Gideon Levy wants to make as clearly as possible, while retaining the directness of the interview. Since my interviews are intellectual portraits that I hope explain how a person thinks, it seemed the most thorough way of doing it.

I think Hari is mistaken to claim his interviews are "intellectual portraits", because that gives him an artistic licence to write up an interview in the same way as Lucien Freud might paint the Queen. A newspaper interview should be a fairly straightforward and truthful account of an encounter -- it's not a profile, and if it is, it should be billed as such. And if Hari wants to include his subject's words from other sources, then it's very easy to stitch them in without losing any immediacy.

I was wrong to make up my quotes all those years ago, and Hari is wrong to make up his quotes today. The problem is, Hari is playing a bigger game than I was when a junior writer on the Times many years ago -- he is very high profile and he has even won prizes. He shouldn't play fast and loose with quotes, and neither, if an unpublished letter from Rowan Wilson to the Independent is correct (I'll leave you to Google that one), should he make things up. That letter is particularly damning.

We are all guilty of using licence, but to rely on it to the extent that Hari has done is to cross over into the world of invention. We have to draw these lines somewhere, and Hari must surely know, in his heart, that he has stepped over where most of us "content providers" mark that boundary. He should apologise to his readers.

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Our treatment of today's refugees harks back to Europe's darkest hour

We mustn't forget the lessons of the Second World War in the face of today's refugee crisis, says Molly Scott Cato.

In the 1930s, thousands of persecuted people fled Europe. Our own press ignominiously reported these as "Stateless Jews pouring into this country" and various records exist from that time of public officials reassuring readers that no such thing would be allowed under their watch.

With the benefit of historical hindsight we now know what fate awaited many of those Jews who were turned away from sanctuary. Quite rightly, we now express horror about the Holocaust, an iconic example of the most shocking event of human history, and pledge ourselves to stop anything like it happening again. 

Yet as Europe faces its worst refugee crisis since the Second World War we are witnessing a deafening cacophony of xenophobic voices in response to people fleeing their own present-day horror. We must therefore reflect on whether there is an uncomfortable parallel in the language being used to describe those seeking asylum today and the language used to describe Jews seeking refuge in the 1930s.

Our response to the current refugee crisis suggests we feel fearful and threatened by the mass movement of desperate people; fearful not just of sharing what we have but also of the sense of disorganisation and chaos. Does the fact that these refugees are from Syria, Libya, Iraq and Afghanistan, and so not part of our continent, provide an excuse to allow them to be bombed at home or drowned during their desperate journey to safety?

We are not helped by the poorly informed public debate which—perhaps intentionally—conflates three quite different movements of people: free movement within the EU, irregular or unauthorised migration and the plight of the Middle Eastern refugees. While our misguided foreign policy and unwillingness to tackle change may give us a moral responsibility for those fleeing famine and conflict, our responsibility towards refugees from war zones is clear under international law.

Due to our commitments to the UN Refugee Convention, the vast majority of Syrian refugees who reach our territory are given asylum but the UK has taken fewer Syrian refugees than many other European countries. While Germany admitted around 41,000 asylum-seekers in 2014 alone, the UK has taken in fewer than 7000.

The problem is that any sense of compassion we feel conflicts with our perception of the economic constraints we face. In spite of being the fifth largest economy in the world we feel poor and austerity makes us feel insecure. However, when actually confronted with people in crisis our humanity can come to the fore. A friend who spent her holiday in Greece told me that she saw local people who are themselves facing real poverty sharing what they had with the thousands of refugees arriving from Turkey.

A straightforward response to the growing sense of global crisis would be to restore the authority of the UN in managing global conflict, a role fatally undermined by Tony Blair's decision to go to war in Iraq. Our role should be to support UN efforts in bringing about strong governments in the region, not taking the misguided ‘coalition of the willing’ route and running foreign policy based on self-interest and driven by the demands of the oil and arms industries.

We also need EU policy-makers to show leadership in terms of solidarity: to co-operate over the acceptance of refugees and finding them safe routes into asylum, something the European Greens have consistently argued for. The EU Commission and Parliament are in clear agreement about the need for fixed quotas for member states, a plan that is being jeopardised by national government’s responding to right-wing rather than compassionate forces in their own countries.

Refugees from war-torn countries of the Middle East need asylum on a temporary basis, until the countries they call home can re-establish security and guarantee freedom from oppression.

The responsibility of protecting refugees is not being shared fairly and I would appeal to the British people to recall our proud history of offering asylum. Without the benefit of mass media, the excuse of ignorance that can help to explain our failure to act in the 1930s is not available today. We must not repeat the mistakes of that time in the context of today’s crisis, mistakes which led to the deaths of so many Jews in the Nazi death camps. 

Molly Scott Cato is Green MEP for the southwest of England, elected in May 2014. She has published widely, particularly on issues related to green economics. Molly was formerly Professor of Strategy and Sustainability at the University of Roehampton.