Labour tuts at the Tories' "public school-boy games" over Europe

The afternoon's Europe debate is purposely designed to discomfit Labour. But Miliband's high-minded opposition is a risky strategy.

Parliament will this afternoon debate Britain’s relations with the European Union. The argument, it is safe to say, will not be terribly focused. The motion is that "this House has considered the matter of Europe." Doubtless, by the end of the day, after a fashion, it will have.

Of course the real purpose of the session – called by the government – is to allow Tory MPs to flaunt their newfound unity and to jeer at Labour discomfort. Now that the Prime Minister has promised a referendum on the UK’s membership (which is very popular with his backbenchers) and Ed Miliband has resisted doing the same (which makes many on his side uneasy) the Conservatives feel they are finally on the front foot on European issues and intend to plant their other foot into the opposition as hard as they can.

There are people on the Labour and the Lib Dem side who despairingly agree with the No. 10 analysis. One senior Labour figure calls his party’s position "ridiculous" on the grounds that "we can’t go into an election in opposition to the people." A Lib Dem strategist comments wryly that Cameron’s manoeuvre means effectively that "he has adopted pretty much the position that we had at the last election." (Clegg is the only major party leader with a pedigree of promising in/out EU plebiscites.)

There is residual confidence in the Miliband and Clegg camps that Cameron’s European position will unravel when it bumps into practical obstacles to delivering a deal in Brussels that Tory MPs can stomach. (As a sign of trouble on the horizon, Germany’s foreign minister has fired a clear warning shot at Downing Street.) Besides, Tory MPs are never satisfied with Cameron for long; some new grievance comes along soon enough.

But since the Prime Minister’s speech last week had a noticeably tonic effect on the party it is easy to see why Downing Street has decided to pour out another dose of the same heady brew. Labour’s approach to all this is, I gather, to play it long and high-minded. Miliband knows that Cameron’s position is designed exclusively by the short-term demands of party management and fear of Ukip. That, the Labour leader calculates, is a weak position whichever way you look at it. Under such circumstances, when the government is caught up in desperate short-term tactics, the opposition should be in the business of looking far-sighted and responsible – a sensible government-in-waiting.

Miliband’s aides are keen to point out that the very existence of today’s debate is a sign of panicky tactical machination in Downing Street. Why, they ask, should parliament spend its time kicking around the idea of a referendum that currently only exists in the hypothetical realm of a Tory majority government in 2017. Are there no more pressing foreign policy issues around? (Clue: Cameron himself is in Algeria this afternoon.)

It is all rather reminiscent of George Osborne’s decision to confect a separate Welfare Benefits Uprating Bill, carved out of the many announcements in last December’s Autumn Statement. The underlying policy – a real terms cut to the rate at which social security payments annually rise – did not require its own triumphal procession through parliament. The Bill was devised entirely to discomfit Labour and generate as much heat as possible around the question of the opposition’s addiction to welfare profligacy. (As it turned out, the public mood was more nuanced, with some evidence of a backlash against the Chancellor appearing to relish the prospect of picking poor families’ pockets.)

The view from Team Miliband is that this afternoon’s Europe debate is just another example of Cameron and Osborne playing, in the words of a senior aide, "snarky little public school-boy games" when they should be thinking of ways to fix the economy and look after the nation’s long-term strategic interests. It is a fair point. But, whether Miliband likes it or not, much of what goes on in the Palace of Westminster resembles games of varying degrees of shabbiness and cynical subterfuge. Voters don’t particularly respect that aspect of our politics – most of the time they don’t even notice. But tutting in disapproval from the sidelines in the hope of looking statesmanlike is a risky strategy in any competition.

Labour leader Ed Miliband addresses workers at Islington Town Hall. Photograph: Getty Images.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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What it’s like to fall victim to the Mail Online’s aggregation machine

I recently travelled to Iraq at my own expense to write a piece about war graves. Within five hours of the story's publication by the Times, huge chunks of it appeared on Mail Online – under someone else's byline.

I recently returned from a trip to Iraq, and wrote an article for the Times on the desecration of Commonwealth war cemeteries in the southern cities of Amara and Basra. It appeared in Monday’s paper, and began:

“‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the engraving reads, but the words ring hollow. The stone on which they appear lies shattered in a foreign field that should forever be England, but patently is anything but.”

By 6am, less than five hours after the Times put it online, a remarkably similar story had appeared on Mail Online, the world’s biggest and most successful English-language website with 200 million unique visitors a month.

It began: “Despite being etched with the immortal line: ‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the truth could not be further from the sentiment for the memorials in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Amara.”

The article ran under the byline of someone called Euan McLelland, who describes himself on his personal website as a “driven, proactive and reliable multi-media reporter”. Alas, he was not driven or proactive enough to visit Iraq himself. His story was lifted straight from mine – every fact, every quote, every observation, the only significant difference being the introduction of a few errors and some lyrical flights of fancy. McLelland’s journalistic research extended to discovering the name of a Victoria Cross winner buried in one of the cemeteries – then getting it wrong.

Within the trade, lifting quotes and other material without proper acknowledgement is called plagiarism. In the wider world it is called theft. As a freelance, I had financed my trip to Iraq (though I should eventually recoup my expenses of nearly £1,000). I had arranged a guide and transport. I had expended considerable time and energy on the travel and research, and had taken the risk of visiting a notoriously unstable country. Yet McLelland had seen fit not only to filch my work but put his name on it. In doing so, he also precluded the possibility of me selling the story to any other publication.

I’m being unfair, of course. McLelland is merely a lackey. His job is to repackage and regurgitate. He has no time to do what proper journalists do – investigate, find things out, speak to real people, check facts. As the astute media blog SubScribe pointed out, on the same day that he “exposed” the state of Iraq’s cemeteries McLelland also wrote stories about the junior doctors’ strike, British special forces fighting Isis in Iraq, a policeman’s killer enjoying supervised outings from prison, methods of teaching children to read, the development of odourless garlic, a book by Lee Rigby’s mother serialised in the rival Mirror, and Michael Gove’s warning of an immigration free-for-all if Britain brexits. That’s some workload.

Last year James King published a damning insider’s account of working at Mail Online for the website Gawker. “I saw basic journalism standards and ethics casually and routinely ignored. I saw other publications’ work lifted wholesale. I watched editors...publish information they knew to be inaccurate,” he wrote. “The Mail’s editorial model depends on little more than dishonesty, theft of copyrighted material, and sensationalism so absurd that it crosses into fabrication.”

Mail Online strenuously denied the charges, but there is plenty of evidence to support them. In 2014, for example, it was famously forced to apologise to George Clooney for publishing what the actor described as a bogus, baseless and “premeditated lie” about his future mother-in-law opposing his marriage to Amal Alamuddin.

That same year it had to pay a “sizeable amount” to a freelance journalist named Jonathan Krohn for stealing his exclusive account in the Sunday Telegraph of being besieged with the Yazidis on northern Iraq’s Mount Sinjar by Islamic State fighters. It had to compensate another freelance, Ali Kefford, for ripping off her exclusive interview for the Mirror with Sarah West, the first female commander of a Navy warship.

Incensed by the theft of my own story, I emailed Martin Clarke, publisher of Mail Online, attaching an invoice for several hundred pounds. I heard nothing, so emailed McLelland to ask if he intended to pay me for using my work. Again I heard nothing, so I posted both emails on Facebook and Twitter.

I was astonished by the support I received, especially from my fellow journalists, some of them household names, including several victims of Mail Online themselves. They clearly loathed the website and the way it tarnishes and debases their profession. “Keep pestering and shaming them till you get a response,” one urged me. Take legal action, others exhorted me. “Could a groundswell from working journalists develop into a concerted effort to stop the theft?” SubScribe asked hopefully.

Then, as pressure from social media grew, Mail Online capitulated. Scott Langham, its deputy managing editor, emailed to say it would pay my invoice – but “with no admission of liability”. He even asked if it could keep the offending article up online, only with my byline instead of McLelland’s. I declined that generous offer and demanded its removal.

When I announced my little victory on Facebook some journalistic colleagues expressed disappointment, not satisfaction. They had hoped this would be a test case, they said. They wanted Mail Online’s brand of “journalism” exposed for what it is. “I was spoiling for a long war of attrition,” one well-known television correspondent lamented. Instead, they complained, a website widely seen as the model for future online journalism had simply bought off yet another of its victims.