PCC: The Past is Another Country

Journalists' standards have improved

Linda Christmas looked back in her article, and that was a mistake. The attachment to a mythic past when journalistic titans ruled the earth seems to have bedevilled the industry almost since its inception. I prefer the pragmatism of Bill Deedes, speaking in 2001: “I have been working in Fleet Street for most of the last century, and I can honestly say that in my opinion standards are about as bad as they have always been.” In fact, even allowing for phone hacking, journalistic standards have improved since the creation of the PCC in 1991 and it may be that the PCC should take some small part of the credit for that. If you don't believe me, read A Press Free and Responsible by Richard Shannon, the history of the PCC's first decade, and compare what we have now with what went before. And, going back a bit earlier, remember Chris Mullin's description in the BJR of life in the industry in the early 1970s, when his first week's expenses claim was rejected on the grounds that it was so low it would embarrass his colleagues. (Please put aside thoughts here of “We should be so lucky.”) The moral is: if you are devoted to your past, you won't be able to create a vision for your future.

Linda's longing for the return of earlier, supposedly better, times to replace current miseries leads to an important issue that early witnesses before Lord Justice Leveson have exploited to the full. Why are modern journalists so down on themselves? It has been said that journalism as an industry has perfected the art of beating itself up, and that doesn't stop being true just because it was Rebekah Brooks who said it. I know of no other trade that is so unhappy with itself, except perhaps politics. Even we accountants, whose idea of fulfilment is sharpening a bundle of No 2 pencils, don't go around commenting quite so much on how crap we are. To be fair, the version of institutional self-loathing prevalent among certain media commentators is more refined, along the lines of “I'm all right, but the rest of you are corrupt and useless.” Unfortunately people tend to believe what others say of themselves, so don't be surprised by the popularity ratings that result.

The Leveson Inquiry has given almost limitless further opportunities for self harm. Admittedly, the art of newspaper writing involves simplification enhanced by exaggeration of what remains. But the newspaper industry does have the option of presenting itself in a more grown-up, rational way when it shows its face to the world at large. I recommend pursuing that option.

If the first lesson I learned at the PCC was the danger of fantasising over the past, and the second the menace of the industry's suicidal tendencies, the third is the damage caused by its residual snobbery. Donald Trelford quotes approvingly Hugo Young's words that it was “time to end the professional blackmail by which it is pretended that the interests of The Sun have anything to do with the interests of The Guardian”. Nil nisi bonum and all that, but Young's remark really is pretentious and patronising nonsense. The similarities as newspapers are far greater than the differences. Papers need one another. And don't forget that some of the red-tops and midmarket titles make money, which gives the industry – including the broadsheets – that useful veneer of commerciality.

A century ago the owner of The New York Times commented wryly that if other newspapers printed a sex story, it was smut: but when The New York Times printed it, it was a sociological study. The self-righteous nature of the debate was nicely exposed by Piers Morgan (and, yes, even he might be right) when he noted that the Telegraph, The Times and The Guardian managed more than 25,000 words between them in 2002 on the “non-story” that was the liaison between Sven-Göran Eriksson and Ulrika Jonsson. The message for the industry is: please recognise that you are all on the same side – even more so because of the damage wrought by phone hacking – and work together accordingly (something, incidentally, the BJR has frequently advocated).

So far I haven't felt the need to come to the defence of the PCC. And indeed, Donald Trelford analyses phone hacking not as a failure of regulation but rather as the result of a series of criminal acts. The PCC was not set up to conduct investigations of this sort. Where an ombudsman or regulator believes that a crime has been committed, it quite simply becomes a matter for the police. But why didn't we at the PCC ask more questions when we were lied to? Why were we so credulous? The recent confirmation that we were indeed lied to gives us a bit of a defence, but for me the main answer offered by the Not Leveson issue rests in Michael Williams's comments about the obsolescence and crudity of phone hacking. In 2009 I could not conceive that grown men would risk their careers and reputations for the trivial benefit of listening into private telephone conversations. And I'm still not quite sure I understand.

Tireless work by the PCC team

Brian Hitchen was the Not Leveson contributor who most openly declared approval for the existing work of the PCC. I should state an interest here: Brian and I go back a long way, to the days when I tried to sell a dodgy – sorry, tax-efficient – pay scheme to the workforce of United News & Media. So I welcome Brian's backing for the tireless work of the PCC team, not least for the opportunity he gives me to add my own plug. As I write, the PCC secretariat consists of Amber, Becky, Ben, Catherine, Charlotte, Chris, Elizabeth, Jonathan, Lauren, Kim, Mel, Sean, Simon, Stephen and Tonia. And that's it.

The Stephen here is otherwise known as Stig Abell, the outgoing director who deserves much credit for keeping the PCC afloat for the past couple of years. There you have it – 15 people running all the day-to-day work of a major national regulatory body and doing it very well indeed. They cost the taxpayer nothing and the industry just £2million a year – astonishingly good value by any standard. And, contrary to what you will read elsewhere, much of their work, and in particular their pre-publication activity, is proactive rather than passive. But I'm getting carried away. I must go back to Brian. It would be rude of me not to address his comments on the PCC lay members. In the space of one paragraph I am condemned, together with my colleagues, as having zero knowledge of the newspaper industry in general and journalism in particular; as a politically-correct fig leaf; a waste of space; a quango person of zero experience; an amateur; and then as an amateur again, in case I missed it the first time. We lay members should all pack our bags and be replaced by a formidable group of respected elder statesmen and women of the newspaper industry such as … well, Brian Hitchen actually.

That pay-scheme work clearly didn't go as well as I thought at the time. But is this diatribe fair? Up to a point, Brian. You got me to a tee, although I thought you might have made more of my quangocrat role. (Hang on, how did you know I work for a quango now? That's awesome.) But the other lay members are genuinely good. And some of them – Ian Walden and Michael Smyth, for example, and who's that Michael Grade chap? – do have rather a lot of relevant media experience. We have a new, highly experienced chairman in David Hunt, who follows on from Chris Meyer and Peta Buscombe – both significantly underrated – who in turn brought the Commission into the 21st century with major contributions in the fields of prominence of corrections and modern corporate governance.

What will be the actual way forward for press controls? George Brock's excellent suggestion of a balanced privacy law will be dismissed by ministers and civil servants as Too Difficult. Tessa Jowell's idea of a free press, but free consistent with a clear understanding (which is to say, Tessa's clear understanding) of what is within and off limits in pursuit of a story, means an unfree press. Her suggestion will be rejected accordingly, and rightly so. Brian Hitchen's vision of respected elder statesmen saving the industry will go nowhere. “Respected elder statesmen” means “retired” which gives you a quick ride through “not doing it any more” to “out of touch” to “lacking credibility”. Steve Hewlett's version of PCC Plus, supported in essence by Geoffrey Bindman and Donald Trelford and including tougher investigative powers and the ability to institute enquiries on its own (and impose fines), will be the new reality.

I'd like to add my own note of caution about the design of PCC Plus. News happens and photographs are taken in a world that is fluid and fast moving – conditions that suit professional guidelines based on a set of principles rather than prescriptive and exhaustive regulations and bureaucracy. In designing a new system, beware that it does not become so complicated and so slow – risks that George Brock noted – that the man or woman in the street won't bother to use it. If you stifle the way press complaints are dealt with by throwing the full panoply of bureaucracy at it, you will slow down the system, suppress the complaints, and incidentally discredit the newspaper industry. Lawyers, of course, would have a field day. I would hate a PCC Plus that operates under legalistic conditions.

My day job involves reviewing applications from people who have been convicted of criminal offences. They want one more chance to have their case heard by an appeal court. The Criminal Cases Review Commission (CCRC) is subject to the full array of controls and regulations – transcripts of proceedings, Freedom of Information Act requirements, appeals against adjudications and judicial review as a matter of routine. This is entirely appropriate, because we are talking about miscarriages of criminal justice, people wrongly in prison and lives utterly destroyed. With all due respect to the lawyers, the relationships between soap stars and the paparazzi do not come into this category. The CCRC deals with about a seventh of the amount of complaints that go to the PCC at roughly three times the cost and much more slowly. One might do well to get a provisional decision out of the CCRC within a year, whereas with the PCC in its current form a final decision is reached in, on average, less than five weeks. This is vital: if your complaint is about media attention over your son's funeral, you want it sorted now, not in a year's time. And you want finality so you can get on with your life. The PCC offers this and so must any successor.

And so, farewell to the Press Complaints Commission – but just for me. The organisation itself must survive – in an enhanced form – for the good of the industry. Finally, thanks to all the newspapers and periodicals I've encountered for the thoroughly enjoyable roller-coaster ride they've given me over the past six years. It's been something special, particularly for a chartered accountant.