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.

Getty
Show Hide image

How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism