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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What Donald Trump could learn from Ronald Reagan

Reagan’s candidacy was built on more than his celebrity. Trump not only lacks experience as an elected official, he isn’t part of any organised political movement.

“No one remembers who came in second.” That wisdom, frequently dispensed by the US presidential candidate Donald Trump, came back to haunt him this week. Trump’s loss in the Iowa Republican caucuses to the Texas senator Ted Cruz, barely beating Senator Marco Rubio of Florida for second place, was the first crack in a campaign that has defied all expectations.

It has been a campaign built on Trump’s celebrity. Over the past eight months, his broad name recognition, larger-than-life personality and media savvy have produced a theatrical candidacy that has transfixed even those he repels. The question now is whether that celebrity will be enough – whether a man so obsessed with being “Number One” can bounce back from defeat.

Iowa isn’t everything, after all. It didn’t back the eventual Republican nominee in 2008 or 2012. Nor, for that matter, in 1980, when another “celebrity” candidate was in the mix. That was the year Iowa picked George H W Bush over Ronald Reagan – the former actor whom seasoned journalists dismissed as much for his right-wing views as for his “B-movie” repertoire. But Reagan regrouped, romped to victory in the New Hampshire primary and rode a wave of popular support all the way to the White House.

Trump might hope to replicate that success and has made a point of pushing the Reagan analogy more generally. Yet it is a comparison that exposes Trump’s weaknesses and his strengths.

Both men were once Democrats who came later in life to the Republican Party, projecting toughness, certainty and unabashed patriotism. Trump has even adopted Reagan’s 1980 campaign promise to “make America great again”. Like Reagan, he has shown he can appeal to evangelicals despite question marks over his religious conviction and divorces. In his ability to deflect criticism, too, Trump has shown himself as adept as Reagan – if by defiance rather than by charm – and redefined what it means to be “Teflon” in the age of Twitter.

That defiance, however, points to a huge difference in tone between Reagan’s candidacy and Trump’s. Reagan’s vision was a positive, optimistic one, even as he castigated “big government” and the perceived decline of US power. Reagan’s America was meant to be “a city upon a hill” offering a shining example of liberty to the world – in rhetoric at least. Trump’s vision is of an America closed off from the world. His rhetoric invokes fear as often as it does freedom.

On a personal level, Reagan avoided the vituperative attacks that have been the hallmark of Trump’s campaign, even as he took on the then“establishment” of the Republican Party – a moderate, urban, east coast elite. In his first run for the nomination, in 1976, Reagan even challenged an incumbent Republican president, Gerald Ford, and came close to defeating him. But he mounted the challenge on policy grounds, advocating the so-called “Eleventh Commandment”: “Thou shalt not speak ill of any fellow Republican.” Trump, as the TV debates between the Republican presidential candidates made clear, does not subscribe to the same precept.

More importantly, Reagan in 1976 and 1980 was the leader of a resurgent conservative movement, with deep wells of political experience. He had been president of the Screen Actors Guild in the late 1940s, waging a campaign to root out communist infiltrators. He had gone on to work for General Electric in the 1950s as a TV pitchman and after-dinner speaker, honing a business message that resonated beyond the “rubber chicken circuit”.

In 1964 he grabbed headlines with a televised speech on behalf of the Republican presidential candidate, Barry Goldwater – a bright spot in Goldwater’s otherwise ignominious campaign. Two years later he was elected governor of California – serving for eight years as chief executive of the nation’s most populous state. He built a conservative record on welfare reform, law and order, and business regulation that he pushed on to the federal agenda when he ran for president.

All this is to say that Reagan’s candidacy was built on more than his celebrity. By contrast, Trump not only lacks experience as an elected official, he isn’t part of any organised political movement – which enhanced his “outsider” status, perhaps, but not his ground game. So far, he has run on opportunism, tapping in to popular frustration, channelled through a media megaphone.

In Iowa, this wasn’t enough. To win the nomination he will have to do much more to build his organisation. He will be hoping that in the primaries to come, voters do remember who came in second. 

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war