AN eight-inch headline (“What Have You Done?”) and an innocuous photograph of a young woman dominated three quarters of one British tabloid front page this week. The 19-year-old millionaire’s daughter, it transpired, had just returned from a hasty wedding ceremony in Las Vegas. A small strap of text at the foot of the same page contained 90 words reporting to its readers that Russia and Georgia had been accused of war crimes and a Cold War-type atmosphere was building between Russia and the US.
Far more spectacular warps of facile gossip in the UK “news” media are commonplace and growing, propelled by the abundance of free sheet publications in London and most major cities. But the imbalance between news and celebrity tittle-tattle, the ramifications for general social and political understanding and even the survival of meaningful democracy are not being seriously evaluated.
Commentators find it plausible that, within a decade, all hard copy news consumption will be for free. The BBC’s Andrew Marr recently said: “Teenagers, people in their 20s, even in their late 20s, have now got to the position where they wouldn’t pay for news. They expect their news to be free; they expect it to be in a free newspaper on the underground or at the bus station.” This is beyond question.
In turn, water-cooler and barroom conversations, vox pops and surveys demonstrate the depth of misunderstanding generally held on the issues that profoundly affect us all. Glancing through the “Lite” or the “Paper” and one is left in no doubt of the source of such ignorance and there is no free or credible alternative to its ubiquity. This places huge power in the hands of corporate owners and advertisers, who have complex economic and political vested interests in what we read every day. The prevailing culture and methodology associated with these titles now also appears to be hardwired into public norms. I recently took a late-night taxi journey which passed a scene that can be described as industrial, bloodthirsty havoc. A jostling, butting pack of photographers — about 40 in number — were spread across the narrow road, blocking traffic, suddenly pursuing a tiny, craven young figure into the evening. My driver informed me this was Chez Winehouse and that the siege was repeated with surreal regularity. A day later, while waiting on a platform at Liverpool Street, three whispering teenage girls spied a fellow passenger and, without introduction or warning, pitched up around five feet from him and filmed his wait for a train on their mobile phones, before brashly demanding his autograph.
And so the cycle of “what readers want” and celebrity fixation proceeds into grotesque proportions, and all the while, the underpinning elements of a free democracy, such as a quality press and informed debate are further eroded. This must be challenged with urgency.
