A new phrase was recently added to media demonology. In a speech for the Reuters Institute, Tony Blair, in one of his last public speeches, described the British news media as “feral beasts”. In the nature of the media, it is already an established truth that the Prime Minister leaves office whinging that journalism – all of it, all of the time – has become like a flesh-tearing beast. And so it is important to recall what he actually said: that is, what was the context – that underused practice in journalism.
In one passage in the speech, Blair said that today’s ferocious competitive pressure in the news media, coupled with the traditional oppositionist stance of the UK press, had produced a series of consequences: first, “scandal or controversy beats ordinary reporting hands down”; second, that “attacking motive is far more potent than attacking judgement”; and third, that “… the fear of missing out means today’s media, more than ever before, hunt in a pack. In these modes it is like a feral beast, just tearing people and reputations to bits. But no-one dares miss out.” There was also a fourth. He said that “commentary had become more important than the news itself”.
The context is clear: the media do not tear flesh constantly. They are “feral” when a big scandal breaks, for example John Prescott’s affair with his diary secretary. They are feral because the news media are hunting desperately for meagre information which the people at the centre of the affair wish to keep hidden: and they swarm like hounds around the rabbit – giving no quarter, showing no pity, knowing no moderation. It was a deliberate phrase in the written version of the speech; but it carried more meaning than Blair could know. For it is a common view among journalists that the news media should be feral: that if anything, the media have been too soft on politicians and other public figures; that criticism and revelation should be constant and unremitting. Only thus, so the reasoning goes, can journalism retain its independence. Only if the media sinks their teeth into the ankles of public figures constantly can they avoid being led about on a leash.
Really? I want to question that. The assumption that press and politics are locked into a gladiatorial combat that only one can win probably has an intended consequence. It necessarily places the public in the position of spectators who, as did the Romans when watching the games in the Circus Maximus, are called on to applaud or boo – or signify their desire that the victim of the day finally be slaughtered, or let off. The theory is that, in aggressively challenging politicians, other leaders and those responsible for key public services, the journalist is acting in place of the public. That can be true: there is a public value, at times, in an aggressive challenge to those who would hide behind official position and obfuscation, even downright lies. But the moment must be chosen: an automatic assumption that the attack mode is the only one is a one-size fits all approach to a practice – journalism – that has many ways of making the public world comprehensible. It is also vital to consider how this dynamic impacts on public services, which has, after all, been at the centre of New Labour’s domestic concerns to date. And let’s not forget the people responsible for delivering public services. How does the relationship between politics and the media affect their morale?
