Leveson must mark the beginning of change, not the end

We need a new platform-neutral regulator that no longer treats newspapers, broadcasters and websites as if they live in discrete little boxes.

Could the backdrop for publication of the Leveson report this week be worse? A polarised debate between press and campaigners; serious political divisions; and another media crisis - this time at the BBC - eroding public trust even further.

Lord Justice Leveson must take a bleak view of the prospects for building consensus around his recommendations. But there is a bigger danger and the Leveson report will, at best, address only some of the issues confronting Britain’s media. Economically, our traditional media is under severe strain. Circulations for print publications are falling, advertising revenues migrating online and digital revenues growing at only a snail’s pace for the creators of traditional print and television content. According to media regulator, Ofcom, the only growth in readership for our national newspapers is online, and that is currently not where the money is. The so-called print to digital "profit destruction ratio" could be as much as 25:1. 

In a report published by the IPPR today, I argue that once they have taken delivery of the Leveson report, our politicians will need to look much more broadly at the prospects for growth in our media sector.  Leveson should mark the beginning of the process of change, not the end. We need to take a new approach to media regulation. One which is no longer treats newspapers, broadcasters and online services as if they live in discrete little boxes. That’s not where consumers are today. And it certainly won’t be where consumers are by the time a new regulatory regime comes into force.

True, many people remain excluded from the digital revolution, but more than half of households today have three or more internet enabled devices. According to Ofcom, when people buy an iPad or other tablet device, 25 per cent of people say they read a paper copy of a newspaper less often. A new approach should offer more freedom for media companies to innovate and develop new business models and at the same time deliver more consistent standards across the board. 

To do this, we can build on our current system of independent regulators, but shift the focus on to content rather than delivery methods. So, for example, one regulator to deal with news publishing on all platforms, one to deal with broadcast news content, with its special requirement to maintain impartiality, one to deal with general non-news content across all platforms, broadcast and on demand. Each body would involve the industry and lay representatives, including consumers in developing standards and monitoring and enforcing compliance. But they must have teeth, and it must be a requirement for all qualifying organisations to take part. For that you need a statutory backstop.  

Independent and statutory regulation are not mutually exclusive. Advertising and on demand programming have both. ITV is completely under the umbrella of statutory regulation, but that didn’t stop the broadcaster investigating and breaking the Savile story. The backstop role that Ofcom performs for some sectors should be extended to all media. Stepping back from day to day regulation of content would enable Ofcom to take a broader view, helping to develop consistent standards across media on matters such as the protection of privacy and the public interest. 

A new News Publishing Authority would be created as part of this framework as a replacement for the PCC. It would be platform neutral, dealing with print and online services. It would also deal with news video, ending the current risk that newspapers could fall under a new regulator if they develop opinionated TV-like content for distribution online and on demand. Only news publishers over certain size should be required to sign up, and the new body would continue to perform many of the current functions of the PCC, including handling complaints, offering pre-publication advice to complainants and giving guidance to editors. It should also involve industry as well as lay representation, as now. But it must have recourse to Ofcom’s back-stop powers when needed: to compel membership; arbitrate effectively; and apply effective sanctions. 

The public want stricter regulation and the key is to develop a system that is as sensitive to press freedom and the future economic viability of our media as it is possible to be. And that is what this solution proposes. Assessments of media plurality should become platform neutral too. Judgements on concentrations of power and influence should be taken using a range of measures, with consideration given to the continuing viability of established titles and media groups. 

Setting hard ownership limits within particular media segments – like the printed press – may be politically attractive, but if the result is simply the closure of unprofitable newspaper titles, then what does that achieve for plurality and consumer choice? After the fiasco over News Corp's attempted takeover of BSkyB, the so-called quasi-judicial role for the Secretary of State should be abolished too, with Ofcom taking responsibility for media competition and plurality issues with enhanced accountability to Parliament. The UK benefits from one of the most vibrant and diverse media markets in the world. Alongside a lively free press and an abundance of new media players, we have superb public service broadcasters. In the new world, as all traditional media comes under strain, our broadcasters need more security over their long term status and funding. In the case of the publicly-funded BBC this should come with a greater external scrutiny, continuing to work alongside the BBC Trust. 

Without a new regulatory settlement, in a few years time the rich media mix the UK enjoys today of old and new, serious and frivolous, impartial and opinionated could disappear. A traditional industry that is already struggling economically will be hamstrung and unable to compete with new media players. There’ll be no shortage of choice, and aggregation software will help us find it. But will it be worth reading or watching? Leveson will be important. But let’s not get sidetracked into yesterday’s arguments about whether or not a "dab of statute" signals the death knell for free and investigative journalism. There are bigger risks and they require a broader view and a more comprehensive solution. 

Nigel Warner is a former government media policy adviser and author of Life after Leveson, published today by the IPPR

Hugh Grant, one of those leading calls for stricter press regulation, meets David Cameron during last year's Conservative Party Conference in Manchester. Photograph: Getty Images.

Nigel Warner is a former government media policy adviser and an associate fellow at the IPPR.

Parliament TV screengrab
Show Hide image

MP Michelle Thomson's full speech on rape at 14: "I am a survivor"

The MP was attacked as a teenager. 

On Thursday, the independent MP for Edinburgh West Michelle Thomson used a debate marking the UN’s International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women to describe her own experience of rape. Thomson, 51, said she wanted to break the taboo among her generation about speaking about the subject.

MPs listening were visibly moved by the speech, and afterwards Thomson tweeted she was "overwhelmed" by the response. 

Here is her speech in full:

I am going to relay an event that happened to me many years ago. I want to give a very personal perspective to help people, both in this place and outside, understand one element of sexual violence against women.

When I was 14, I was raped. As is common, it was by somebody who was known to me. He had offered to walk me home from a youth event. In those days, everybody walked everywhere - it was quite common. It was early evening. It was not dark. I was wearing— I am imagining and guessing—jeans and a sweatshirt. I knew my way around where I lived - I was very comfortable - and we went a slightly differently way, but I did not think anything of it. He told me that he wanted to show me something in a wooded area. At that point, I must admit that I was alarmed. I did have a warning bell, but I overrode that warning bell because I knew him and, therefore, there was a level of trust in place. To be honest, looking back at that point, I do not think I knew what rape was. It was not something that was talked about. My mother never talked to me about it, and I did not hear other girls or women talking about it.

It was mercifully quick and I remember first of all feeling surprise, then fear, then horror as I realised that I quite simply could not escape, because obviously he was stronger than me. There was no sense, even initially, of any sexual desire from him, which, looking back again, I suppose I find odd. My senses were absolutely numbed, and thinking about it now, 37 years later, I cannot remember hearing anything when I replay it in my mind. As a former professional musician who is very auditory, I find that quite telling. I now understand that your subconscious brain—not your conscious brain—decides on your behalf how you should respond: whether you take flight, whether you fight or whether you freeze. And I froze, I must be honest.

Afterwards I walked home alone. I was crying, I was cold and I was shivering. I now realise, of course, that that was the shock response. I did not tell my mother. I did not tell my father. I did not tell my friends. And I did not tell the police. I bottled it all up inside me. I hoped briefly—and appallingly—that I might be pregnant so that that would force a situation to help me control it. Of course, without support, the capacity and resources that I had within me to process it were very limited.

I was very ashamed. I was ashamed that I had “allowed this to happen to me”. I had a whole range of internal conversations: “I should have known. Why did I go that way? Why did I walk home with him? Why didn’t I understand the danger? I deserved it because I was too this, too that.” I felt that I was spoiled and impure, and I really felt revulsion towards myself.

Of course, I detached from the child that I had been up until then. Although in reality, at the age of 14, that was probably the start of my sexual awakening, at that time, remembering back, sex was “something that men did to women”, and perhaps this incident reinforced that early belief.​
I briefly sought favour elsewhere and I now understand that even a brief period of hypersexuality is about trying to make sense of an incident and reframing the most intimate of acts. My oldest friends, with whom I am still friends, must have sensed a change in me, but because I never told them they did not know of the cause. I allowed myself to drift away from them for quite a few years. Indeed, I found myself taking time off school and staying at home on my own, listening to music and reading and so on.

I did have a boyfriend in the later years of school and he was very supportive when I told him about it, but I could not make sense of my response - and it is my response that gives weight to the event. I carried that guilt, anger, fear, sadness and bitterness for years.

When I got married 12 years later, I felt that I had a duty tell my husband. I wanted him to understand why there was this swaddled kernel of extreme emotion at the very heart of me, which I knew he could sense. But for many years I simply could not say the words without crying—I could not say the words. It was only in my mid-40s that I took some steps to go and get help.

It had a huge effect on me and it fundamentally - and fatally - undermined my self-esteem, my confidence and my sense of self-worth. Despite this, I am blessed in my life: I have been happily married for 25 years. But if this was the effect of one small, albeit significant, event in my life stage, how must it be for those women who are carrying it on a day-by-day basis?

I thought carefully about whether I should speak about this today, and it was people’s intake of breath and the comment, “What? You’re going to talk about this?”, that motivated me to do it, because there is still a taboo about sharing this kind of information. Certainly for people of my generation, it is truly shocking to talk in public about this sort of thing.

As has been said, rape does not just affect the woman; it affects the family as well. Before my mother died early of cancer, I really wanted to tell her, but I could not bring myself to do it. I have a daughter and if something happened to her and she could not share it with me, I would be appalled. It was possibly cowardly, but it was an act of love that meant that I protected my mother.

As an adult, of course I now know that rape is not about sex at all - it is all about power and control, and it is a crime of violence. I still pick up on when the myths of rape are perpetuated form a male perspective: “Surely you could have fought him off. Did you scream loudly enough?” And the suggestion by some men that a woman is giving subtle hints or is making it up is outrageous. Those assumptions put the woman at the heart of cause, when she should be at the heart of effect. A rape happens when a man makes a decision to hurt someone he feels he can control. Rapes happen because of the rapist, not because of the victim.

We women in our society have to stand up for each other. We have to be courageous. We have to call things out and say where things are wrong. We have to support and nurture our sisters as we do with our sons. Like many women of my age, I have on occasion encountered other aggressive actions towards me, both in business and in politics. But one thing that I realise now is that I am not scared and he was. I am not scared. I am not a victim. I am a survivor.

Julia Rampen is the editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog. She was previously deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines.