"The Daily Malicious, sorry, the Daily Mail"

Naivety and aggression at the Leveson inquiry.

"The Daily Malicious, sorry, the Daily Mail." You knew from the moment that faux-slip passed his lips that this wouldn't be a run-of-the-mill appearance at the Leveson inquiry by Richard Desmond, owner-founder of Northern and Shell, owner of Channel 5 and proprietor of the Daily Express, Sunday Express, OK! Magazine, Daily Star and Daily Star on Sunday. And arch-rival of the Daily Mail.

There was plenty of knockabout stuff to entertain. "The Daily Mail is Britain's worst enemy," snipped Desmond, given the chance to talk about his 'worst enemy'. When asked of the notion of a non-aggression pact between the Mail and the Express, he retorted: "Two weeks ago Dacre vilified me in his horrible rag."

The mention of Paul Dacre, Daily Mail editor, clearly stuck in Robert Jay QC's mind, and he accidentally called Desmond "Mr Dacre" to howls of laughter shortly afterwards. "He's the fat butcher," chuckled Desmond. There didn't seem an awful lot of love lost.

The Express owner, like fellow Leveson attendee Paul McMullen, is a pen-twiddler. He spoke calmly and slightly boringly - not as boringly as Mail on Sunday editor Peter Wright, whose statements the other day were in the bland monotones of a hynoptherapy tape. But there was a clenched fist and a sense more animation when he became passionate about his business: "You have to love these products, you have to live these products."

He explained how he made cutbacks in staff when he arrived - "There's more to life than the chess correspondent based in Latin America" - as well as 'a very secretive reporting area'.

"We cut it out within a week or two weeks. If we didn't know what they did, we got rid of them." Was that for ethical or commercial considerations, he was asked? "We do not pay out cash without receipts. That was the ethos of the company."

Shortly afterwards, he was a little less sure of the meaning of those words: "Ethical, I don't know what the word means." Jay pointed out his own statement, where he had spoken of how 'everybody's ethics are different, we don't talk about ethics or morals'. Ah yes, that ethical.

Desmond made it clear he was a proprietor whose background was in advertising, not editorial: "With respect to journalists, (putting money on the front cover or giving away DVDs) is the only way you increase circulation." Later, he added: "Editors have to believe that by putting a good story in they're going to sell more newspapers. That doesn't necessarily correlate."

He also recalled the way in which he was greeted by his former Fleet Street rivals: "The Mail were the worst because they were upset they hadn't bought the Daily Express. The Mail were upset, the Telegraph were upset because they had this joint venture with a printing company. The Guardian were upset because we came from leftfield and nobody knew who we were. We were cutting their friends' jobs so they didn't like us. The Sunday Times, they wrote lovely things about us. The Independent, the Mirror and the Sun, I can't remember."

Desmond clearly felt he had on the wrong end of a character assassination, saying: "The only thing I wasn't accused of was murder."

Before too long, the conversation turned to Kate and Gerry McCann, who actually were accused of murder, in his newspaper, which reported the suspicions of Portuguese police with regard to the parents of missing Madeleine. Jay said: "In relation to McCanns, if one accepts other newspapers also defamed the McCanns, given the systematic and egregious defamations which your newspaper perpetrated on the McCanns it's a bit rich to blame the PCC to fail to provide you with guidance, after all it was up to your editor not to behave in such a way."

Desmond replied: "Every paper, every day for that period of time was talking about the McCanns. It was the story. Poor old Peter Hill, he thought I was going to fire him. He'd done to the best of his ability report the facts. Unfortunately when it came to it, it's fair to assume the Portuguese police would have been a reliable source."

It was interesting how Desmond's sympathies appeared to be with 'poor old Peter Hill' as the victim in that scenario.

Later, Desmond unwisely returned to the subject when talking about the role of the PCC. "With the McCanns, it took them a long time to get in a dispute with us. They were quite happy as I understand in articles being run about their poor daughter. It was only when new lawyers came along who were working on contingency..."

"That was grotesque characterisation," interjected Leveson. "Your newspaper had accused them of killing their daughter. Are you seriously saying they were 'quite happy'?"

Desmond apologised to the McCanns. He kept apologising to the McCanns, and made it clear that he was apologising to the McCanns, but couldn't leave the subject alone. He said the Express had been unfairly scapegoated over its coverage, even though 'everyone else' was doing it, saying that if there were 38 bad articles out of a total of 102, that meant there were a majority of positive articles.

With regards to the PCC, Desmond seemed flippant. His main gag was that it should be called the "RCD" (Richard Clive Desmond), though that joke fell a little flat after the tense exchanges over the McCanns. He seemed unwilling to want to talk about regulation, as if it were falling into some trap - the bad jokes were as good as it was going to get.

Earlier, Dawn Neesom, the editor of the Daily Star, had seemed similarly awkward when pressed on restructuring the PCC and regulation of the press, chuckling a rather bizarre comment to Leveson himself. "You're far more intelligent than I am so I know you're going to come up with something very good," she said. It seemed rather too deferent and cap-doffing for someone in such a high-ranking position, particularly with regards to self-regulation, where newspapers usually seem so keen to be involved.

But then if you take a lot of witnesses at their word, there is a lot of that kind of naivety about. People who have risen to the top positions in the highly competitive and cynical world of journalism do appear, at face value, to have an awfully kindly and trusting nature, and seem to like to see the best in others.

Hugh Whittow, editor of the Express, explained that he was aware that the newspaper had used search agencies, but not private investigators - a similar distinction to the evidence from Sun editor Dominic Mohan the other day. How was he sure that it wasn't going on? He said it hadn't been 'flagged up' to him. How did he know that sources weren't being paid? "I assume because no-one has come to me it hasn't happened."

You have to marvel at how a tabloid journalist could be such a trusting soul.

Patrolling the murkier waters of the mainstream media
Felipe Araujo
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Hull revisited: What happens when a Brexit stronghold becomes City of Culture?

We report from Hull, to find out if you can replace the kind of nostalgia that led to a Leave vote with cultural investment.

At 75 metres long, the offshore wind turbine blade erected across Queen Victoria Square, in the heart of Hull, is a sculpture intended to mark a new chapter in the city’s history. For the next 12 months, Hull, a city of more than a quarter of a million people in the northeast of England, will be the UK’s City of Culture.

The 28-tonne blade hails from the local Siemens plant. The German technology company employs around 1,000 people in the area, making it Hull’s biggest single employer.

Seen up close in this context – laid dormant in the middle of a town square instead of spinning up in the air generating energy – the structure is meant to remind passersby of a giant sea creature. It is also, I’m told, an allusion to Hull’s rich maritime history.


All photos: Felipe Araujo

Nostalgia is a big thing in this part of the country. At one point, Hull was the UK’s third largest port but technology and privatisation drastically changed that. The battle over cod fishing with Iceland in the waters of the North Sea 40 years ago has also dealt a major blow to a region with a long and proud trawling tradition.

People here still talk about a bygone era when the fishing industry provided jobs for everyone and there was enough money to go around.

Fast forward to 2017, and the country’s new capital of culture is the same city that voted 67 per cent in favour of leaving the EU last June. Its new-found prestige, it seems, is not enough to erase years of neglect by a political class “too busy for commoners like us”, as one resident puts it.

“More than a message to Brussels, it [the Brexit vote] was a message to Westminster,” Paul Leeson-Taylor, a filmmaker born and bred in Hull, tells me. “For the first time in a long time people in Hull felt like they had the chance to change something, and they took it.”

But while speaking to people on the high street and hanging out with locals at the Community Boxing Club in Orchard Park, one of the city’s most deprived areas, there is one word that consistently popped up in conversation – more than any specific policy from Westminster or the much-hated rules “dictated” by Brussels. Foreigners.

According to official figures, Hull’s population is 89.1 per cent white British. Still, immigration is big on people’s minds here.

During my two-day stay in the city, I find myself being the only black person in most places I visit – I’m certainly the only black guy at the boxing club. So when someone begins a sentence with “I’m not racist but…”, I know a tirade on immigrants is about to ensue.

“There are just too many of them,” Nick Beach, an estate agent whose Polish clientele is a big part of his business, tells me as he is about to teach a boxing class to local children. Beach was born in Shepherd’s Bush, in West London, but has been living in Hull for the last 20 years.

“When I go down there these days and go into Westfield shopping centre, it is very rare you get an English person serving you now,” he says. “I just find it disappointing that you go into your capital city and you are a minority there.”

These are the much-discussed “left behind”, a white working-class community that has gained particular prominence in a time of Brexit and Donald Trump. Under economic pressure and facing social change, they want to have their say in running a country they claim to no longer recognise.

For Professor Simon Lee, a senior politics lecturer at the University of Hull, immigration is only a superficial layer when it comes to explaining the resentment I witness here. For him, the loss of the empire 70 years ago is still something that as a country Britain hasn’t come to terms with.

“The reason for us to be together as a United Kingdom has gone, so what is the project?”

As destiny would have it, a foreign company will now play a major role on Hull’s economic future, at least in the short term. In the wake of the Brexit vote, there were widespread fears Siemens would pull out of the region and take its factory elsewhere. With the massive blade looming large in the background, Jason Speedy, director of the blade factory in Hull, assures me that isn’t the case.

“The Brexit decision has made no difference. We have made our investment decision, so Siemens, together with the Association of British Ports, has put in £310m. It’s all full steam ahead.”

As Hull becomes the country’s cultural hub for the next few months, the hope is that its residents stop looking back and start looking forward.

For Professor Lee, though, until there is a complete change in the power structures that run the country, the north-south divide will remain – with or without the EU. “The way you kill nostalgia is to have something new,” he said. “The reason why people here are nostalgic is because there is nothing to replace it with.”

Felipe Araujo is a freelance journalist based in London. He writes about race, culture and sports. He covered the Rio Olympics and Paralympics on the ground for the New Statesman. He tweets @felipethejourno.