Chris Jefferies: Only press fines can prevent trial by media

"My story was a readymade Midsomer Murders script set in a respectable and leafy suburb," says man f

"My story was a readymade Midsomer Murders script set in a respectable and leafy suburb," says man falsely accused of Joanna Yeates's murder.{C}

Only imposing fines on offending newspapers could prevent a repeat of the trial by media endured by Chris Jefferies, according to the victim himself and Lord Hunt, the chair of the now-defunct Press Complaints Commission.

Speaking at the 'Hacked To Bits' Benn Debate on journalism in Bristol last night, Jefferies concluded: "If we're to avoid statutory regulation then the new PCC must have sanctions at its disposal so severe that compliance to the highest possible standards must be compelled."

It was a view endorsed by Lord Hunt, who last month decided to dissolve the PCC in its current form and open consultation as to its new structure. He said: "What we need is a regulator. The PCC is not a regulator - it has no power to investigate, or to request documents. But I don't want to seek a precedent in restricting good journalism.

"Everyone agrees that we need a new regulator, with teeth. Editors are worried about [the new PCC having the power to fine] but when you look at the cases which have happened, I think we have to look back and say 'What should have happened to stop that arising in the first place?'"

The debate, chaired by Donnacha De Long of the National Union of Journalists (NUJ), brought together voices from across the industry, including local journalists Steve Brodie of Points West and Mike Norton, editor of the Bristol Evening Post, as well as Richard Peppiatt, the former Daily Star journalist who resigned over Islamophobic news coverage, and Thais Portilho-Shrimpton, the co-ordinator of the Hacked Off journalism standards campaign.

Jefferies, libelled by eight newspapers - two of which were also found in contempt of court over their coverage - explained how he had been demonised by the press when he found himself arrested on suspicion of the murder of his tenant Joanna Yeates. Vincent Tabak, Yeates's next-door neighbour, was convicted of the killing last summer, after Jefferies had been the subject of huge intrusion into his private life.

He recalled: "If you think back to end of 2010 and last year, the story was something of a gift to the tabloids. It was a readymade Midsomer Murders script set in a respectable and leafy suburb.

"I was the person who had been arrested and the press seemed determined to believe the person who was arrested was the murderer, and to portray me in as dark and as lurid a light as possible.

"Journalists will talk to 100 people and if 99 say one thing and one says something they would like to believe or will enable them to write the story they want to write, that is the one they will choose to believe.

"The caricature for me was the lewd figure, a peeping tom, I had apparently spied on tenants, I was a loner because I happened to live alone. A lot of people said some nice things about me but they tended to be buried and not given enough prominence in the articles."

When asked how he felt about the coverage at the time, Jefferies said: "At the time all this was taking place I was unaware of it, as I was in custody. For some time afterwards I didn't see any of it, as friends I was staying with said, 'you don't want to see this, it wouldn't be a good idea to read it.' It was some time after the event I did start to look at these articles.

"Even today I haven't been able to bring myself to read everything.

"Things would have been different if I hadn't had so many supportive freinds, and I have to say I am extraordinarily touched by the fact I am not infrequently approached by people I don't know who say kind and supportive things.

"Mine was an extreme case but it was by no means unique. Some of the reporting was so extraordinarily lazy and casually inaccurate. There were reports that the floorboards of the house were being ripped up, but it has solid floors."

On the relationship between the press and police, the subject of the second phase of the Leveson Inquiry, he said: "Often the relationship between press and police can be mutually beneficial but because of the nature of this case, it served to convince the police they had caught their murderer. During interrogation the police were particularly interested in these fantastical stories that were being reported."

The debate viewed a BBC report from Brodie on the Joanna Yeates murder inquiry, in which it was revealed that innocent Ikea delivery workers, who had delivered furniture to the flat a month before the crime, were confronted by tabloid newspapers after they were interviewed by police. Somehow, their mobile phone numbers and their addresses had been found.

However, Brodie had concerns about the future of regulation. He said: "I really do worry about further legislation. We're already the libel capital of the world. Chris Jefferies correctly sued newspapers for libel, and nobody in this hall would say he wasn't right to do so, but the same law is used by organisations to stop proper journalism.

"I have (BBC) guidelines in a very thick book and we do regulate ourselves internally, and we have the Trust above us. But I don't think Fleet Street would self-regulate; it's not in their nature."

Ex-Daily Star reporter Peppiatt said that the character of tabloids had changed from newspapers to entertainment products. He said: "It's regarded as being a bit snobby to question the tabloid agenda, but world events have really dropped down the agenda. Gone are the days when the Daily Mirror was a thrusting investigatory newspaper. . . A lot of people are saying 'this is what people really want'.

"It's been forgotten that newspapers shouldn't be corporate products to make as much money as possible but they are also there to serve a public interest. At Leveson some speakers defended celebrity coverage by saying that 'celebs collude wih us'. What's astounding is that they're quite happy to admit they'll set up faux romances and present it to their readers, who they say they care about so much, as if they're real events."

Portilho-Shrimpton said that it wasn't regulation but the practices of the industry itself that were the biggest threat to journalism. She said: "Mail Online is the news equivalent of a battery farm; only a small proportion of the stories are from the newspaper," adding that talented reporters were "being turned into professional rewriters and uploaders".

"Hacked Off is sometimes accused of trying to muzzle the press. The press should be free to go after stories. However, if the stories turn out not to be true then their behaviour should be challenged."

"The work of Leveson is extremely important. Lord Justice Leveson fears his report will end up in the same way as [the Calcutt report of 1990], roundly ignored. I hope by the end of this we are able to lead this debate - it's not either state regulation or it's not - and there are all kinds of things in between. Hacked off and the Media Standards Trust are coming up with ideas, and we do hope that in conjunction that in the end what wins is the industry, journalism and freedom of the press."

Patrolling the murkier waters of the mainstream media
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How “cli-fi” novels humanise the science of climate change

The paradox is that the harder climate-fiction novels try, the less effective they are.

When the Paris UN Climate Change Conference begins at the end of November, the world’s leaders will review the climate framework agreed in Rio in 1992. For well over 20 years, the world has not just been thinking and talking about climate change, it has also been writing and reading about it, in blogs, newspapers, magazines – and in novels.

Climate change fiction is now a recognisable literary phenomenon replete with its own nickname: “cli-fi”. The term was coined in 2007 by Taiwan-based blogger Dan Bloom. Since then, its use has spread: it was even tweeted by Margaret Atwood in 2013:

It is not a genre in the accepted scholarly sense, since it lacks the plot formulas or stylistic conventions that tend to define genres (such as science fiction or the western). However, it does name a remarkable recent literary and publishing trend.

A 21st-century phenomenon?

Putting a number to this phenomenon depends, partly, on how one defines cli-fi. How much of a novel has to be devoted to climate change before it is considered cli-fi? Should we restrict the term to novels about man-made global warming? (If we don’t, we should remember that narratives about global climatic change are as old as The Epic of Gilgamesh and the Biblical story of the flood.) If we define cli-fi as fictional treatments of climate change caused by human activity in terms of setting, theme or plot – and accept there will be grey areas in the extent of this treatment – a conservative estimate would put the all-time number of cli-fi novels at 150 and growing. This is the figure put forward by Adam Trexler, who has worked with me to survey the development of cli-fi.

This definition also gives us a start date for cli-fi’s history. While planetary climatic change occurs in much 20th-century science fiction, it is only after growing scientific awareness of specifically man-made, carbon-induced climate change in the 1960s and 1970s that novels on this subject emerged. The first is Arthur Herzog’s Heat in 1976, followed by George Turner’s The Sun and the Summer (published in the US as Drowning Towers) in 1987.

At the turn of this century, Maggie Gee and TC Boyle were among the first mainstream authors to publish climate change novels. In this century, we can count Atwood, Michael Crichton, Barbara Kingsolver, Ian McEwan, Kim Stanley Robinson, Ilija Trojanow and Jeanette Winterson as major authors who have written about climate change. The past five years have given us notable examples of cli-fi by emerging authors, such as Steven Amsterdam, Edan Lepucki, Jane Rawson, Nathaniel Rich and Antti Tuomainen.

Creative challenges

Cli-fi is all the more noteworthy considering the creative challenge posed by climate change. First, there is the problem of scale – spatial and temporal. Climate change affects the entire planet and all its species – and concerns the end of this planet as we know it. Novels, by contrast, conventionally concern the actions of individual protagonists and/or, sometimes, small communities.

Added to this is the networked nature of climate change: in physical terms, the climate is a large, complex system whose effects are difficult to model. In socio-cultural terms, solutions require intergovernmental agreement – just what COP21 intends – and various top-down and bottom-up transformations. Finally, there exists the difficulty of translating scientific information, with all its predictive uncertainty, into something both accurate and interesting to the average reader.

Still, cli-fi writers have adopted a range of strategies to engage their readers. Many cli-fi novels could be classified as dystopian, post-apocalyptic or, indeed, both – depicting nightmarish societies triggered by sometimes catastrophic climate events. A future world is one effective way of narrating the planetary condition of climate change.

Some novelists are also careful to underpin their scenarios with rigorous climatic predictions and, in this way, translate science fact into a fictional setting. Kingsolver, who trained as an ecologist, is the best example of this – and Atwood and Robinson are also known for their attempts at making their speculations scientifically plausible. Also, cli-fi novels, particularly those set in the present day or very near future rather than in a dystopian future, tend to show the political or psychological dimensions of living with climate change. Readers can identify with protagonists. To some extent, the global community is represented in fictional everymen or everywomen. Or, often, it is through such characters that science is humanised and its role in combating climate change better understood.

Can cli-fi lead to change?

Could cli-fi affect how we think and act on climate change? The paradox is that the harder cli-fi tries, the less effective it is. Many writers want to inspire change, not insist on it: the line between literature and propaganda is one that most novelists respect. Literature invites us to inhabit other worlds and live other lives. Cli-fi at its best lets us travel to climate-changed worlds, to strive there alongside others and then to return armed with that experience.

In Paris, the UN will seek a global agreement on climate action for the first time in more than 20 years. There is plenty of climate change fiction out there to help provide the mental and psychological space to consider that action.

The Conversation

Adeline Johns-Putra, Reader in English Literature, University of Surrey

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.