Libel reform needs to keep writers out of court, not make it easier to win once they're there

When Ben Goldacre wrote in the Guardian about a man who claimed to South Africans that "multivitamin treatment is more effective than any toxic AIDS drug" (pdf), he was sued for libel. After fighting in court for 17 months, and spending £535,000 on legal fees, he won the case, and costs were awarded. Three years later, Goldacre has been paid back £365,000. The cost of successfully defending a libel suit – even one over the seemingly open and shut question of whether vitamin pills can cure AIDS – is almost one and a half years of your life and £170,000. Thankfully, the Guardian bankrolled his case. Others aren't so lucky.

The Libel Reform Campaign (a loose coalition comprising Index on Censorship, English PEN and Sense About Science, amongst others) was created to fight for a change to this situation, because Goldacre's story is not the first, nor the worst.

Peter Wilmshurst, a cardiologist, was sued by a manufacturer of a heart implant for casting doubt on its efficacy in a medical conference; his case only ended when the company, NMT, went bust, leaving him unable to claim any costs. Simon Singh was taken to court for pointing out that there is no evidence that chiropractors can treat conditions such as colic by spinal manipulation. That case was dropped by the claimants, with Singh thousands of pounds out of pocket.

It isn't only science writers who face punishment under our overbearing libel laws. The novelist Amanda Craig wrote in yesterday's Telegraph of being threatened for libel by an ex-boyfriend who claimed that a fictional character was a libellous representation of him, based, among other things, on the brand of shoes he wore. The website Legal Beagles was served notice by Schillings LLP for writing and hosting discussions about Retail Loss Prevention, a company which sues alleged shoplifters but has been accused of running a "parallel justice system". David Marshall, the in-house lawyer for consumer affairs magazine Which?, says that "corporations are commonly using libel as a form of reputation management, as they might use a press release". He says that frequently, they are hit with solicitor's letters before negative reviews are even published, threatening action when the lawyers cannot possibly know if the content is libellous.

All these cases, and more, lead to libel reform becoming a cause célèbre. At the LRC's rally yesterday, Brian Cox, Dara Ó Briain and Dave Gorman all spoke passionately of the need for change, and Labour's Robert Flello MP joined with Conservative David Davis and Liberal Democrat Lord McNally to make the point that the aim of libel reform is shared amongst all three parties. And since it made it into the manifestos of all the parties, the coalition is now passing a defamation bill, aimed at fixing the situation.

Unfortunately, the bill is not fit for purpose. The consensus among libel lawyers is that after it is passed, "nothing will change". All of the cases mentioned above would still exist were the bill to pass. Although it improves the situation in some ways, by introducing a protection for peer-reviewed scientific journals, Evan Harris, the former Lib Dem MP, argues that it is actually retrograde in others, especially when it comes to free speech online.

But the biggest single problem is that exemplified by Goldacre's case. If you are sued for libel, it doesn't really matter if you win. The cost of defending a claim is so high – 17 months work and enough cash to buy a small house – that only a fool would open themselves up to that risk. The campaign met yesterday to push, not for a way to win more cases, but for a way to prevent needless court cases occurring at all.

Their proposals include a higher hurdle for corporations to clear before they can sue individuals, as well as a much broader public interest defence, and, crucially, an agreed upon system for restitution outside the courts.

All these points are dearly needed. "Libel is used by rich people in a game of poker to get poor people to go 'all in'," said Dave Gorman. Yet it's even worse than that; if you go all in on a game of poker and win, at least you come out with profit. If you are taken to court for libel, you are going to lose either way.

Worse, because there is no requirement for injured parties to attempt to redress claims out of course, it's not enough to offer retractions or corrections. The only sure-fire way not to end up in court over libel is not to write things that people may sue over at all. "What we haven’t heard about are the tens, hundreds, thousands of cases that didn’t go to court because they were silenced," Gorman points out. "It’s these cases we haven’t heard about that are even more important."

Even some claimants don't like the way the law is now. When Luke Cooper sued the Daily Mail for libel - and won - he would have been happy to settle for £5,000 and an apology, but the all-or-nothing nature of the system meant that the Mail forced him to fight all the way to court, which ended up costing them hundreds of thousands of pounds.

If the defamation bill goes through as it stands, Dara Ó Briain argues that there will have been basically no change from 2009, when a group of supporters organised by David Allen Green first met in the basement of the Penderel's Oak pub in Holborn to discuss Simon Singh's defence. But Lord McNally was having none of it. There is at least one thing which will have changed, he told Ó Briain: they are now meeting in a committee room of the House of Commons. Even if the first attempt wasn't successful, the group will hopefully turn British libel law around.

Updated 11:03 on Friday to correct a reference to the Penderel's Oak meeting.

The Libel Reform Campaign present a petition with 60,000 signatures to Downing Street

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times