How do you solve a problem like the PCC?

If the press falls under statutory control, newspapers will have no one to blame but themselves.

It says much about the veracity of recent inquiry into Britain's press excesses that an A-list actor wearing a listening device down a pub in Dover sheds more light on illegality within tabloids in one hour than the police, House of Commons and Press Complaints Commission manage in five years.

Hugh Grant may hold a bigger grudge against newspapers than most, although he admits occasional blows to his public image have done little to diminish a successful Hollywood career. Others haven't been so lucky. Take Chris Jefferies, the landlord of Bristol murder victim Joanna Yeates.

Amid the maelstrom of media hysteria over the death of a pretty, young, white woman last Christmas, Jefferies, a retired schoolmaster, was arrested – and before the cuffs had clinked shut the tabloid press deigned him guilty, describing him as a "creepy oddball" with potentially paedophilic tendencies. Not a campaign of wicked whispers; they screamed it from their front pages.

He was later released without charge. His name was cleared, yet his reputation for eternity left in tatters.

If Hugh Grant had been Joanna Yeates's landlord, the same never would have happened. Grant would have called in the legal cavalry of Carter Ruck and Fleet Street would have taken heed. Unfortunately Chris Jefferies, lacking the same means, was forced to seek solace in the bosom of the Press Complaints Commission. Six weeks later he was selling his home and moving far away.

The PCC calls itself the police of Britain's press industry, meting out divine punishment on code of practice miscreants. Yet the truth is that it inspires about as much authoritarian fear among reporters as a stripper wearing a Toys'R'Us helmet and carrying a plastic truncheon. I know because until last month I was one of the worst offenders, a Daily Star hack with a rap sheet of dubious journalism stretching halfway down Fleet Street.

Story of no glory

I've experienced the censure of gruff legal warnings on behalf of celebrities like David Beckham and Amir Khan, but a PCC complaint was always just something to be folded tightly and used to fix a wobbling chair.

It is the greatest lie ever disseminated by the British newspaper industry (and there've been a few) that the public has nothing to fear from press power because of the shackles of the PCC. But look closely and you'll see those shackles are merely furry handcuffs hanging next to the bed they share with certain newspaper groups, namely Associated Press and News International.

The current phone-hacking scandal has been just as humiliating for the PCC as the News of the World. Unwilling and unable to either investigate or punish the red top, it has stood slack-jawed on the sidelines, spluttering its meatiest rebuke in the direction of the Guardian newspaper for daring to open such a can of worms in the first place.

Earlier this week the MP John Whittingdale, chairman of the House of Commons culture, media and sport select committee, accused the PCC of being in "the thrall" of the newspaper industry, adding: "I don't think they've covered themselves in glory."

But the PCC has never sought glory; quite the opposite. For over 20 years it has quietly conducted a smoke-and-mirrors game of paying lip-service to public outrage while keeping at bay those demanding tighter regulations of the newspaper industry.

Section one of the PCC editor's code of practice states: "The press must take care not to publish inaccurate, misleading or distorted information."

Yet open any red top or mid-market title, and you will find misrepresentation, or even downright lies, are rife. The internet is awash with fantastic bloggers exemplifying this very fact.

Last year there were just over 7,000 complaints made to the PCC, yet it addressed just 1,687. One-quarter. The rest were tossed back in the sea of discontent as "outside our remit". These crucially include any complaint made by a "third party"; anyone the PCC judges not "directly affected" by a story.

Mind your language

To cite an example, on 3 February this year the Daily Express wrote a story beneath the headline: "A mere 37 per cent of NHS doctors are white British". It was a lie. The self-appointed "Greatest Newspaper in the World" maliciously lumped the 25 per cent of respondents to a General Medical Council survey who didn't specify their ethnicity into the "non-white" category to help cook the stats.

The second paragraph of the story ran: "Experts last night said they feared the tide of foreign-trained medics could put patients' lives at risk because some may have poor English language skills."

Yet the survey looked merely at the ethnicity of doctors, not their nationality, so the assertion that many are "foreign" and therefore have "poor English language skills" is a fabrication of the most offensive and debased kind.

But were I an ethnic-minority doctor complaining to the PCC that such lies not only misrepresented my profession but risked worsening racism towards staff on hospital wards, I would be given short shrift. Outside our remit, sir, you're not "directly affected".

What the PCC doesn't want you to know is that newspapers are free to say anything they want about Muslims or gypsies or immigrants without the slightest fear of censure. The PCC Code is totally irrelevant in such cases. In my opinion, this is a greater scandal than phone-hacking, one that tears at the seams of our whole society, and I am deeply ashamed to have been part of it.

Following my resignation from the Daily Star over its endemic anti-Islamic bias, a letter demanding an investigation was sent to the chair of the PCC, Baroness Buscombe, by the campaign group One Society Many Cultures, signed by the likes of Diane Abbott MP and Claude Moraes MEP.

I am sad to say they wasted their time.

Beyond the PCC's intrinsic lack of authority over such matters as demonising whole ethnic groups, Richard Desmond this year pulled his media titles out of the regulatory body after deciding that it "no longer suited his business needs". One of Britain's biggest publishers went rogue, and all the PCC has done is bluster over this ignominy with grey statements about a "funding dispute" that it "hopes to resolve soon".

Dragged under and gagged

Perversely, Desmond's grand snub to the PCC may be his greatest, many would say only, gift to the canon of British journalism. For with all publications no longer singing from the same hymn sheet, the music must surely stop. Self-regulation has been fatally undermined.

You'll see few tears from tabloid journalists themselves. Contrary to popular belief, hacks don't enjoy peddling lies for a living, or trawling through people's voicemails. It's their paymasters who deem that an inciteful, sensationalist and obfuscating editorial agenda is the best, and cheapest, manner to prop up flagging circulation.

Andy Coulson and Rebekah Brooks stood before the Commons media select committee in 2009 and stated: "The threat of a complaint being upheld by the PCC is what terrifies editors – not particularly a financial sanction; it is the actual adjudication. It carries an enormous amount of weight and carries far more significance than a fine."

If the committee members had listened hard enough, they would have heard exactly what Fleet Street has known for a long time. It is precisely the spectre of financial punishment that terrifies editors. It's the clammy nightmares about a day when printing a false story is more than a simple calculation about the subject's means to sue versus the potential spike in circulation: when printing demonstrable lies becomes more expensive than hiring an adequate number of reporters and letting them do their jobs properly.

I'm no fan of a free press being dragged under the wing of statutory control, but if it comes to pass, newspapers will have no one to blame but themselves. Certain publishers can quite rightly complain that self-regulation and the flexibility of the PCC Code has allowed them to chase and expose scandals that undermine our democracy and shape foreign policy. Sadly, an equal number of publishers have chosen to betray that code both in spirit and practice, purely for the purpose of celebrity rubbernecking and social divisiveness.

But what stands in the way of reform is the appetite of the government. It always has done. Which prime minister of the past few decades has felt secure enough in power to bite his or her thumb in the direction of Rupert Murdoch or Paul Dacre? The idea that newspapers win elections, true or not, still echoes around Westminster, and no one yet is brave enough to test the theory.

And yet, if promises still count for anything in politics, the coalition would do well to cast its mind back to 1990 when the Calcutt report, commissioned following the collapse in confidence in the Press Council, concluded that a voluntary body should be formed with "18 months to prove its effectiveness", or the industry would face legal imposition.

I wonder what Sir David Calcutt would be saying were he here today.

Richard Peppiatt is a former reporter for the Daily Star.

Richard Burden
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The warnings Bosnian gravestones carry for us in 2016

Xenophobia does not usually lead to Srebrenica. But it can do.

Two weeks ago, I joined a visit to Bosnia organised by Remember Srebrenica. If you have ever seen one of the Commonwealth War Graves cemeteries in Northern France, you will have a sense of what the cemetery in Potocari, near Srebrenica, is like. Row upon row of identical white headstones stretching into the distance. Whereas in France, of course, most of the headstones are marked by the cross, in Potocari they are white obelisks. Overwhelmingly, they mark the graves of Muslims.

In the 1990s, the old battery factory of Potocari was the headquarters of Dutch troops. They had been deployed to uphold the United Nations designation of the enclave as a safe area. Their presence, however, did not stop Serb troops from rounding up around 25,000 people sheltering at the base in July 1995. Once the UN troops stood aside, families were divided. Most of the women and children were loaded and sent west to areas of the country still controlled by the Bosnian government. The men and boys were loaded on to separate trucks. Within days, most of them were systematically shot.

Many other men and boys had already taken to the woods to escape, only to face shells, snipers and ambush on the way. Some, like 19-year-old Hasan Hasanovic, made it through to free territory around Tuzla. Many did not. Those did not die in the woods were either persuaded to give themselves up, or were captured. Like the men and boys who had been taken from outside the UN base at Potocari, most simply disappeared. To this day, their bones are still being found in or near mass graves in eastern Bosnia.

And so, 21 years on, I met Hasan at Potocari. July1995 was the last time he saw his twin brother Hussein, his father Aziz or his uncle, Hasan.

The former UN Secretary General Kofi Annan described the Srebrenica massacre as the worst crime on European soil since the Second World War. Indeed, the word massacre doesn’t convey the enormity of what happened. Earlier this year, the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia found 1990s Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadzic guilty of involvement in genocide. The verdict in the trial of military leader Ratko Mladic is expected later this year.

Nobody who visits Potocari can fail to be moved by what you see there. For me, it brought back memories of how, as a new MP back in the 1990s, I was one of those calling for more assertive international action to stop the carnage that was unfolding in Bosnia. It was an unfamiliar position to find myself in. All my political life until that point, I had been amongst those opposing involvement in military action abroad. Now I found myself supporting intervention. For three years before the Srebrenica genocide, people in Sarajevo had been starved of food, medicines and even the means to defend themselves as their city was remorselessly pounded from the hills that surround it. We knew it. We could see it on TV. We also saw that neither Europe nor NATO nor the UN were taking action that could have stopped it.

There were always so many geopolitical reasons not to intervene effectively. I heard them day after day from Ministers in the House of Commons. But that did not help the men, women and children who were dying in Sarajevo, and in 1995 it did not save Hasan’s twin brother, his father, his uncle or the 8,000 others who ended up in the mass graves around Srebrenica.

Since I have returned from Bosnia, two things keep dominating my thinking. The first is about Syria. The political circumstances that have led to the destruction of Aleppo today are not the same as those facing Sarajevo in the 1990s. For people trapped there though, the parallels must feel much more real than the differences. I don’t claim to have an off-the-shelf action plan for what the international community should do today any more than anyone else does. I just keep thinking how in twenty years’ time, people visiting Aleppo - hopefully reconstructed as Sarajevo has been today - will ask: “How could the world have let this happen in 2016?” What will be our answer?

The other thing that dominates my thoughts is that the genocide in Bosnia hit people like me. A man I met, who unexpectedly found himself becoming a soldier in 1992, told me how, before the war, he wore a t-shirt, jeans and an earring. On a good day, he would to listen to the Ramones. On a bad day, it would be the Sex Pistols. I am a bit older than him, but this was still my generation. And it happened In Europe.

What is more, the murders and the ethnic cleansing were not committed by strangers. So often, they were committed by neighbours. These were normal people who had been whipped up to dehumanise those who they were told were “different”. They were told that their way of life was under threat. They internalised it. They believed it. And, down the line, they no longer needed persuading it was “them or us”.

Most of the time, xenophobia does not lead to the horrors that have scarred Srebrenica forever. But it can do. That a lesson for all of us must never forget. So next time you hear someone talking about people living either down the road or across the sea being "them" not "us", don't shrug and walk away. Speak up and speak out instead.

Richard Burden is Labour MP for Birmingham Northfield and a Shadow Transport Minister. He visited Bosnia with the Remembering Srebrenica charity in October 2016. You can find out more about the Remembering Srebrenica charity here.

Richard Burden is MP for Birmingham Northfield. Follow him on Twitter @RichardBurdenMP.