The Times settles Nightjack claim for £42,500 plus costs

Why there should now be a "Nightjack" test for proposals for press regulation.

The New Statesman can reveal that the Times has settled the civil claim brought by "Nightjack" blogger Richard Horton for £42,500 plus legal costs. 

Horton brought his civil claim for breach of confidentiality, misuse of private information and deceit after it emerged that his identity had not been uncovered by some brilliant piece of detective work by a staff journalist, as was maintained by the newspaper at the time, but had been established instead by unauthorised access to the blogger's email account.

There will now be a statement in open court by the Times before the end of this month.

As there is now a criminal investigation related to this matter - a journalist has been been arrested and a former in-house lawyer has been interviewed under caution - not a great deal more can be said about the circumstances of the unauthorised access.  It is a matter entirely  for the criminal courts to determine whether there is any criminal liability arising - a settlement of a civil claim does not and should not prejudice any criminal investigation.  Certainly nothing in this post should be taken to suggest any criminal liability of any person or entity connected with the case.

And given the criminal investigation, there is little which those involved can currently say about this particular case.  Horton's lawyer Mark Lewis tells me only that whilst he is delighted that his client has won substantial compensation, nothing can put Horton back in the position that his identity was secret. 

And Horton says, "I am happy to have settled with the Times and I can now put that incident behind me and get on with my life".

 

A "Nightjack test" for press regulation?

However, there is perhaps a wider issue about the case apart from the now settled civil claim and the current criminal investigation. 

The Nightjack case raises a general point relevant to the debate on press regulation which will follow publication of the recommnedations of the Leveson Inquiry.

Quite simply, without the Leveson Inquiry's effective use of statutory powers, the Nightjack incident would never have come to light.  It is thereby a perfect example of what remains hidden with "self-regulation", still the the preferred model of many in the newspaper industry.

Here it is important to note that the story only emerged when the New Statesman analysed witness statements submitted by various figures from News International in response to formal (and legally backed) requests for evidence (the full account is set out here). 

Even then, News International was initially reluctant to give a full account, and it was only when both the editor and the former legal manager of the Times were summoned to give oral evidence to the Leveson Inquiry on the incident that the fuller picture emerged of what had actually happened.

As Prof Brian Cathcart, director of Hacked Off, told me earlier today:

The Nightjack affair is a clear case of a newspaper behaving unjustly and  it would never have come to light but for the scrutiny of the Leveson Inquiry, a body with real legal clout.

No voluntary, self-regulatory regime would ever have unearthed the facts.

This is further proof that we need an effective press regulator that has teeth and is genuinely independent the press industry as well as of government.

Tom Watson MP agrees:

I hope the Prime Minister and other members of the cabinet now realise that without the statutory powers of the Leveson Inquiry none of this whole sorry saga involving Times Newspapers and News International would ever have seen the light of day.

One test - which perhaps should be called the "Nightjack test" - of any non-statutory proposals for press regulation will be how an envisaged regulator can obtain relevant documentary and witness evidence from an unwilling news title. 

Would some non-statutory regulator really be able to obtain information from a title akin to that which the Leveson Inquiry was able to prise from News International in respect of the Nightjack incident?

For many it is difficult to see how any contractual or voluntary basis for press regulation could pass this important "Nightjack test" - it would merely (again) be regulation at the fiat of the regulated.

And unless any post-Leveson press regime can pass such a "Nightjack test" then the old pre-Leveson abuses could well continue.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman

 

POSTSCRIPT

Richard Horton has now made the following comment below the line:

None of the above would have happened without the patient, detailed forensic dissection of the facts by David Allen Green at the New Statesman. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my life and after 3 years of not writing anything worth a damn, I am back writing for pleasure again. Leveson was undoubtedly the lever but without David's work at the fulcrum, I would still be sat here 3 years later strongly suspecting wrongdoing but entirely without evidence.

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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The dog at the end of the lead may be small, but in fact what I’m walking is a hound of love

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel.

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel. I seem to have become a temporary co-owner of an enthusiastic Chorkie. A Chorkie, in case you’re not quite up to speed with your canine crossbreeds, is a mixture of a chihuahua and a Yorkshire Terrier, and while my friend K— busies herself elsewhere I am looking after this hound.

This falls squarely into the category of Things I Never Thought I’d Do. I’m a cat person, taking my cue from their idleness, cruelty and beauty. Dogs, with their loyalty, their enthusiasm and their barking, are all a little too much for me, even after the first drink of the day. But the dog is here, and I am in loco parentis, and it is up to me to make sure that she is looked after and entertained, and that there is no repetition of the unfortunate accident that occurred outside my housemate’s room, and which needed several tissues and a little poo baggie to make good.

As it is, the dog thinks I am the bee’s knees. To give you an idea of how beeskneesian it finds me, it is licking my feet as I write. “All right,” I feel like saying to her, “you don’t have to go that far.”

But it’s quite nice to be worshipped like this, I have decided. She has also fallen in love with the Hovel, and literally writhes with delight at the stinky cushions on the sofa. Named after Trude Fleischmann, the lesbian erotic photographer of the Twenties, Thirties and Forties, she has decided, with admirable open-mindedness, that I am the Leader of the Pack. When I take the lead, K— gets a little vexed.

“She’s walking on a loose lead, with you,” K— says. “She never does that when I’m walking her.” I don’t even know what that means, until I have a think and work it out.

“She’s also walking to heel with you,” K— adds, and once again I have to join a couple of mental dots before the mists part. It would appear that when it comes to dogs, I have a natural competence and authority, qualities I had never, not even in my most deranged flights of self-love, considered myself to possess in any measurable quantity at all.

And golly, does having a dog change the relationship the British urban flâneur has with the rest of society. The British, especially those living south of Watford, and above all those in London, do not recognise other people’s existence unless they want to buy something off them or stop them standing on the left of the sodding escalator, you idiot. This all changes when you have a dog with you. You are now fair game for any dog-fancier to come up to you and ask the most personal questions about the dog’s history and genealogy. They don’t even have to have a dog of their own; but if you do, you are obliged by law to stop and exchange dog facts.

My knowledge of dog facts is scant, extending not much further beyond them having a leg at each corner and chasing squirrels, so I leave the talking to K—, who, being a friendly sort who could probably talk dog all day long if pressed, is quite happy to do that. I look meanwhile in a kind of blank wonder at whichever brand of dog we’ve just encountered, and marvel not only at the incredible diversity of dog that abounds in the world, but at a realisation that had hitherto escaped me: almost half of London seems to have one.

And here’s the really interesting thing. When I have the leash, the city looks at me another way. And, specifically, the young women of the city. Having reached the age when one ceases to be visible to any member of the opposite sex under 30, I find, all of a sudden, that I exist again. Women of improbable beauty look at Trude, who looks far more Yorkie than chihuahua, apart from when she does that thing with the ears, and then look at me, and smile unguardedly and unironically, signalling to me that they have decided I am a Good Thing and would, were their schedules not preventing them, like to chat and get to know me and the dog a bit better.

I wonder at first if I am imagining this. I mention it to K—.

“Oh yes,” she says, “it’s a thing. My friend P-J regularly borrows her when he wants to get laid. He reckons he’s had about 12 shags thanks to her in the last six months. The problems only arise when they come back again and notice the dog isn’t there.”

I do the maths. Twelve in six months! That’s one a fortnight. An idea begins to form in my mind. I suppose you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to work out what it is. But no. I couldn’t. Could I?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism