A symbol of the European project's success? Photo: Getty
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Take me to your MEP: Rosetta shows Britain at its best working with the EU

The European Space Agency shows what Britain, France,  Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands, and 10 other European countries can achieve working together.

Last week I was transfixed, as I watched the genius of human intelligence at its exploring best. Images sent directly from the surface of Comet 67P/Churyumov–Gerasimenko are astonishing proof of what the European Space Agency (ESA) has achieved. Many of you may have mourned like I did, as ESA announced via social media that Philae's batteries had finally given out, but don't let that dim the light of the incredible achievement of landing a manmade craft on a small comet 500m miles from Earth and getting information back. Philae's 60-hour primary mission was completed, with data safely returned to Mission Control in Darmstadt. And as ESA have assured us, it's not over yet.

I say what the ESA has achieved, but once again this a meaningless acronym. What I really mean is what Britain has achieved, together with France, Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands, and 10 other European countries. Because eight different British firms took the lead in the build and operation of the Rosetta satellite and her landing craft Philae. The entire project, from mission control systems, to those crucial batteries that kept Philae alive as the hours ticked down and the engineers raced to conduct all the experiments for which they had originally launched Rosetta into the heavens.

They did it, and I couldn't help but enjoy a small whoop of joy, both for the astonishing achievement of the ESA's mission, and for British engineering. The money invested in this project has provided Britain with high quality jobs, high quality scientific research, and high quality engineering. The UK is now looked to as a centre of excellence in space and aerospace engineering with the sector employing more than 28,000 people in businesses which combined generate an annual turnover of £9bn. What's more, the sector is growing at an average rate of seven per cent per year.  

World class space technologies and world firsts in space missions are no longer the preserve of the US and Russia, as even NASA had to admit to its followers online last week that this was a European project, not theirs as many assumed.

And all this came for a cool 15 pence per person per year. In fact, this 19 year project to build a satellite and get it to fly for a decade across the solar system in pursuit of a comet 500 million miles away from planet Earth, and to get it to land successfully for the first time in human history, has cost each European citizen just £2.78. In total over all those years.

All this in exchange for a world leading industry in space technologies, and a chance to glimpse upon something never before seen by human eyes. Not a bad deal really, is it?

Whatever happens to Rosetta, it is already an heroic achievement. And I have faith, grounded in the best scientific predictions, that this is not the last we will hear from the little lander.

This is something great that we have done together, proving what is possible for Britain, and for Europe. Let's take a moment to reflect on just what an achievement this is and be inspired.

Clare Moody MEP, member of the European Parliament industry, research and energy committee and the Galileo Interinstitutional Panel

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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.