Johann Hari: "I did two wrong and stupid things"

Independent columnist admits altering Wikipedia entries and massaging interviewees' quotes.

Johann Hari has admitted to altering quotes from interviewees, in a "personal apology" posted on the Independent website.

The columnist has also confessed to editing his own Wikipedia entry -- as well as those of others with whom he had disagreements, in "ways that were juvenile or malicious". The admission follows an investigation into his conduct by ex-Independent editor Andreas Whittam Smith.

The Independent's former editor, Simon Kelner, had earlier described the allegations as the product of a "baying Twitter mob with no sense of perspective".

Hari says he will take unpaid leave from the newspaper until 2012, return the Orwell Prize "as an act of contrition" and undertake journalism training at his own expense. In future, he will also "footnote all my articles online and post the audio online of any on-the-record conversations".

He writes:

I did two wrong and stupid things. The first concerns some people I interviewed over the years. When I recorded and typed up any conversation, I found something odd: points that sounded perfectly clear when you heard them being spoken often don't translate to the page. They can be quite confusing and unclear. When this happened, if the interviewee had made a similar point in their writing (or, much more rarely, when they were speaking to somebody else), I would use those words instead.

On the Wikipedia claims, which NS bloggers David Allen Green and Guy Walters have previously covered, he adds:

The other thing I did wrong was that several years ago I started to notice some things I didn't like in the Wikipedia entry about me, so I took them out. To do that, I created a user-name that wasn't my own. Using that user-name, I continued to edit my own Wikipedia entry and some other people's too. I took out nasty passages about people I admire - like Polly Toynbee, George Monbiot, Deborah Orr and Yasmin Alibhai-Brown. I factually corrected some other entries about other people.

But in a few instances, I edited the entries of people I had clashed with in ways that were juvenile or malicious: I called one of them anti-Semitic and homophobic, and the other a drunk. I am mortified to have done this, because it breaches the most basic ethical rule: don't do to others what you don't want them to do to you. I apologise to the latter group unreservedly and totally.

Many of the Wikipedia edits were carried out under the name of "David Rose". Following Hari's admission, Times assistant news editor David Rose tweeted: "So Johann Hari admits editing Wikipedia entries under my name. Don't think entirely by coincidence since I knew him at university. Not nice."

The Independent has responded to Hari's apology with a statement:

Following an examination by a former editor, Andreas Whittam Smith, Johann Hari, currently suspended as a writer from The Independent, is taking four months unpaid leave of absence from the newspaper, following a two month suspension that began in July. This decision has been made in accordance with Andreas' recommendation that, subject to certain conditions, Johann should be allowed to work again at the paper. The report on his conduct is a private one and will not be published, as would be the case with any member of our staff.

During the next few months Johann will concentrate on a course of journalism, including ethics, in the United States, and will not be writing, tweeting or blogging for any of the group's titles or website. The expectation is that on successful completion of his studies, he will return to The Independent. Johann has acknowledged and admits the central accusations made against him, that of embellishment of quotations/plagiarism, and that it was he who used the pseudonym David Rose to attack his critics. Johann has also agreed to return the Orwell Prize awarded to him in 2008.

The punishment given to Hari has surprised many commentators, who had expected him to resign or be sacked from the newspaper. David Allen Green, who blogged several times on the saga, has tweeted: "Those rushing to forgive Hari may not be fully aware of the extent of the 'David Rose' smears and deceit on Wikipedia and elsewhere."

However, it seems that Hari still has admirers in the media. Piers Morgan tweeted: "I remain a fan of @johannhari101 and commend him on his mea culpa". The Guardian columnist George Monbiot, meanwhile, said the suspension struck the "right balance".

To read earlier New Statesman blogs on the allegations, click here.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

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I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

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 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war