Press TV, the Iranian state-funded news channel, loses UK licence

The controversial broadcaster has been taken off the air after Ofcom ruled it was in breach of licen

Press TV, the Iranian state-funded news channel, is to be taken off the air in Britain after Ofcom ruled that it was breaching broadcasting rules.

The channel has responded with outrage, calling the decision "scandalous" and a "clear example of censorship". Its chief executive, Mohammad Sarafraz, said that it was "an act of aggression by the British monarchy" which "will prevent the British from learning the truth". (NB. Iranian TV has form on erroneously calling out the British monarchy)

Yet it is not entirely out of the blue: the controversial broadcaster was threatened with a ban last year, after it emerged that it had aired an interview with Maziar Bahari, a Newsweek journalist, while he was imprisoned in Iran in 2009.

Rather than banning the channel outright, after hearing submissions Ofcom finally settled on a £100,000 fine in December 2011. However, Press TV failed to meet the early January deadline for paying the fine. Ofcom said that the broadcaster has been "unwilling and unable" to pay it.

This is not the only reason that Ofcom has given: it also ruled that Press TV is in breach of broadcasting licence rules in the UK because it runs its editorial insight from Iran's capital, Tehran. The regulator wrote to Press TV about this in November, offering a choice of either switching editorial control for programming to the UK, or to transfer the broadcasting licence to Iran. According to Ofcom, Press TV has not responded.

These technical explanations are all very well, but it is difficult not to view this in the context of escalating tension between Iran and Britain (my colleague Mehdi Hasan has blogged extensively on this). The country's nuclear programme has drawn ire from the west, and in November, Britain closed Iran's embassy in London and expelled all diplomats, after the British embassy in Tehran was attacked by a crowd angry at sanctions.

Certainly, the channel's fans will (rightly or wrongly) view it in this light. In October last year, Press TV ran a poll in which 52 per cent of respondents said that Ofcom's attempts to get the channel taken off air was "an instance of intellectual terrorism". The instant reaction on Twitter shows many concerned about free speech (although others are cheering the decision). Salma Yaqoob, the leader of the Respect Party, tweeted: "Reality is we r seeing increased hostility and preparation for attack on #Iran".

While this has been rumbling on for months, things are now moving fast. Ofcom has contacted BSkyB, which broadcasts Press TV, to tell them to take the channel off the air before the end of the day. It appears the plug has already been pulled, although it can still be viewed online.

Regardless of the technicality -- and certainly, Press TV played a significant part and displayed belligerence by failing to take action -- this move will be seen as highly symbolic. It is yet another area where tension with Iran is escalating.

Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

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The idea that sitting all day behind a desk increases your output is a fantasy

If you don’t trust people, at least make sure that you imprison them, seems to be the idea.

Scruffy and tieless, I was the odd one out. Taking a break from research in the London Library, I settled at the bar of an Italian restaurant and resumed reading Tony Collins’s excellent book Sport in Capitalist Society. While the hedge-fund managers looked askance, the young Hungarian waiter recognised one of his own. “That was the subject of my PhD,” he explained, before giving me a sparkling history of sport and Hungarian society.

He now juggles waiting tables with writing articles. It’s not easy. He tells me that when he rereads his old academic work, “Sometimes I need a dictionary!” Like many other people in today’s economy, he balances different jobs, the remuneration and fulfilment varying significantly.

As you have probably noticed, it seems that almost everyone is employed but hardly anyone has a job. Of the 42 million people of working age in Britain, 23 million are in a full-time job; roughly 14 million are full-time parents or carers; most of the rest work part-time, or are self-employed, or work for a business that is so small that it is, in effect, a form of self-employment. The “job” – the salary, the subsidised canteen, the pension – is on the wrong side of history. That is both liberating and scary.

There are two separate points here. The first, deriving from the privilege of choice, is that some people (I am one of them) are happier with the variety and freedom of self-employment. The second is that many people do not have a choice: solid, dependable jobs are a dead concept. We had better get used to fending for ourselves, because we are going to have to.

The phrase “portfolio career” was popularised by the management thinker Charles Handy. “I told my children that they would be well advised to look for customers, not bosses,” as Handy put it. “The important difference is that the price tag now goes on people’s produce, not their time.”

This transition from time-serving to genuine contribution can be good news for workers and employers alike. The art of being an employee is to string things out while pretending to be busy. The art of being self-employed is the opposite: getting things done well and efficiently, while being open to taking on new work. Employees gain an incentive to look effortful, the self-employed to look effortless.

The idea that sitting constantly behind a desk increases output, which underpins the old concept of a job, is a fantasy derived from control: if you don’t trust people, at least make sure that you imprison them. As an unfortunate consequence, the projection of phoney “busyness” consumes more energy than actual work and brings a kind of compound stress: always bustling around, never moving forward. “Never walk past the editor’s office without carrying a piece of paper,” young journalists are advised.

When I turned pro as a cricketer, an old hand told me that if I ever felt lost at practice, I should untie my shoelaces and then do them up again. “We don’t measure success by results but by activity,” as Sir Humphrey quips in Yes Minister. Ironically, I had never realised that my career as a sportsman – apparently playful and unserious – would prove to be the outlier for opposite reasons. Where most careers have drifted towards freelance portfolios, professional sport has tightened the leash. When you have to eat, sleep and train according to strict rules, your job is at one extreme end of the control-of-freedom spectrum. Yet even in elite sport there is more room for semi-professionalism than the system usually allows, especially in games – such as cricket – where physical fitness is necessary but not sufficient.

Yet the reality of the portfolio career inevitably brings new problems that are bound up with wider forces. A life that is spent moving from one institution to another – from school, to university, to a lifelong job – is becoming exotic, rather than the norm. For most of us, there will be no retirement party, no carriage clock. It is not just finding income that is being devolved downwards; so, too, is the search for meaning, purpose and identity. We live in what Handy calls a “de-institutionalised society”.

There are civilising aspects to the trend. First, the new employment landscape reduces the likelihood of people wasting their lives in the wrong job just because it is safe. Handy cites data suggesting that 80 per cent of employees feel dissatisfied in corporate jobs while 80 per cent are happy leading freelance lives. Nor does the old lie – that of backloading happiness, with corporate sacrifice giving way to happy retirement – stack up. We are better off balancing duties and pleasures all the way through.

Second, the decline of the job-for-life may gradually undermine the assumption that everyone’s wealth and prospects (let alone their value) can be determined by a couple of questions about an employer’s address. Social assumptions based on (apparent) occupation are increasingly ridiculous. Guess who the scholar is in the Italian restaurant: the waiter. It’s a good lesson. Your Uber driver could be a landscape architect, funding his professional passion with part-time top-ups.

The language of employment (“Where do you work?”) has been slow to catch up with this reality. When asked, “What do you do?” a freelancer can give a full and interesting answer, only to prompt the follow-up question, “So, what do you do, then?” If conversation becomes less like a mortgage questionnaire, that can only be a good thing.

Hugo Rifkind, writing recently in the Times, admired the Scandinavian-inspired decoupling of taste from wealth. “It is a ­better world . . . where you are not judged on the lineage of your sideboard.” I am more radical. It is a better world when you are not judged on your job.

Better or not – and like it or not – we will have to get used to it. 

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

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