The Iain Duncan Smith petition shows how social media can lead political debate

By seizing upon a moment of perceived hypocrisy, the petition made the welfare debate accessible to the public, says the UK director of Change.org.

Two days after calling on Iain Duncan Smith to prove that he could live on £53 per week, Dominic Aversano’s petition on Change.org has secured the support of well over 350,000 people. It has been a huge news story for two days, inspired radio phone ins, online polls and newspaper features. It’s by far the fastest growing and largest petition ever on Change.org in the UK and continues to grow.

The petition has been described as a "stunt" by Duncan Smith and as a distraction by some on the left. For the 350,000 people who have signed it, it’s become a people powered moment which, quite unexpectedly, has cut to the heart of the debate about whether politicians really understand the lives of people for whom they make policy.

In many ways, Dominic has run the perfect social media campaign. We’ve seen scores of petitions on Change.org about benefit changes and the welfare system but they haven’t, as yet, caught peoples’ imaginations. What Dominic did was seize upon a moment of perceived hypocrisy and give people a chance to have their say. In doing so, he’s shifted the media debate onto what it’s actually like to live on such a tiny amount of money. It may be unlikely that the Work and Pensions Secretary will decide to live on £53 per week but Dominic’s petition has made a huge and powerful point.

Some have, quite understandably, complained that campaigns focused on the impacts of the actual policies haven’t taken off as fast as Dom's petition. The problem with that is that it’s rarely the public’s fault if they don’t sign up to your campaign. Any issues can be made interesting and accessible, and campaigners should start with the audience they’re trying to get to. When the parents of one of the No Dash For Gas activists used Change.org to call on EDF to drop their civil suit against their daughter, the story struck a chord with people who hadn’t even heard of the original protest. No one, really, thought the petition would have any real impact but two weeks later after 65,000 people signed EDF dropped the suit. Victories like this don’t happen in a vacuum and can’t be attributed solely to a petition on Change.org, but the galvanising effect of a petition in its tens of thousands gives the media something to write about and shows the campaign target that they have a mandate to act.

The other thing we’ve heard a lot is "why didn’t Dominic post it on the government’s petition site". The Direct Gov site is predicated on a single, tempting, offer. The received wisdom is that if you get 100,000 people to sign a petition then it 'triggers' a debate in parliament. In campaign terms, there are a number of things wrong with this. First, it’s not true - as the people who signed this NHS petition will tell you. Second, it suggests that you need a magic number of signers to get access to your own democracy which, as the 20 ex-Conservative association chairmen who got to take their anti-equal marriage call to Downing Street will tell you, isn't true either. Third, and most importantly to me, it reduces genuine people powered campaigns into a fruitless chase for the 'golden 100,000'.

Campaigning is about changing things, it certainly isn’t a numbers game. In the case of the IDS petition, Dominic and his 350,000 supporters have changed the focus of the debate. In Lucy Homles's case, she's inspired a huge public debate about Page 3 in the Sun. It happens on a smaller scale too. Johnny Walker is a busker from Liverpool. Last year he took on Liverpool City Council over plans to restrict live street performance. He won his campaign and now works with other street performers fighting new restrictions in their areas. He told us that winning his campaign has changed his life. All in all, more than 50 campaigns have been won using Change.org since last September, powered by ideas, energy and social media.

Dominic Aversano was driven to start this petition because he thought what Iain Duncan Smith had said deserved to be challenged. It turns out hundreds of thousands agree with him. It won’t have a direct impact on the policy changes that underpin the story, but it’s an incredibly instructive case about how social media can enable the electorate to drive political debate.

Protestors hold signs as they demonstrate against the proposed 'bedroom tax' in Trafalgar Square. Photograph: Getty Images.

Brie Rogers Lowery is the UK director of Change.org

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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.