Hogg and hash
THE PRESS DONALD McLACHLAIST
To the layman reader of The Times it may seem odd, as it did to Mr Quintin Hogg, that the newspaper should carry one day a leading article against the legalisation of the use of cannabis and accept another day an advertise- ment, five times more prominent, giving the arguments for it. A long, signed letter, gratis —yes; but a manifesto with signatures and paid for—is that not quite a different thing? To Mr Hogg's argument that this was logically and morally inconsistent, the editor replied that a newspaper has a 'duty to accept advertisements on questions of public policy from serious people or groups of people.' Unless they want to break the law, as distinct from arguing for a change in it, these people 'have a right to com- municate their views to the public.'
In the ensuing correspondence one reader recalled that the Press Council-some years ago upheld the paper's right to reject certain adver- tisements of the books of Dr Marie Stopes. (They would not now need advertising.) An- other, however, pointed to the more recent ruling that The Times had the right to print advertisements by the South African govern- ment defending its policies.
I am not sure that Mr Rees-Mogg is right to proclaim his duty to accept a certain kind of advertisement. My understanding of the tradition is that an editor has the right to refuse publication of anything, whether editorial or advertisement, and that he need give no reason for the refusal unless he chooses. Indeed, he is bound to reject anything which is libellous, misleading, harmful to his readers' health or business—even, I would say, matter likely to cause many of his readers serious offence. A newspaper like The Times is a special kind of forum: it is not Hyde Park Corner. For most of the time, I should add, this watch on the objectionable is kept by the management, whose job it is to allocate and sell space; to see to it, for example, that offers of pornographic books do not creep into the small ads, of the literary pages. It is only the marginal or unusual case that comes to the editor's notice.
Mr Hogg is entitled to criticise a newspaper office for accepting money to give prominence to views which he considers mischievous or dangerous. (Whether a party conference is the best place to do it is another question.) He is also entitled to expect that the editor concerned will report the ceiticisms and publish his letter replying to the newspaper's own defence of its action. That done, has he not had more than his due? His views have been reported by tele- vision, radio and the national press; the news- paper's reply has not.
If there were a professional code in the matters instead of the Press Council's rather
slender body of case decisions (which are no more than answers to readers' complaints), then it would be correct to speak of an editor's duty. But, in fact, tradition rather than principle has been the guide: what tradition has led people to is that an editor should be fair, accurate, and considerate of his readers' views and feel- ings. (1 would not, for example, expect the editor of the Guardian to publish an advertise- ment demanding that all coloured immigration should cease.) But this exacting tradition is not always observed; indeed, more than one British newspaper may be described as unfair on prin- ciple. It seems to me that Mr Hogg's rather ex- aggerated attack has provoked The Times into a rather exaggerated defence.
What was called by the Sun, with all the em- phasis of which its excellent front page is capable, 'the crucifixion' of Edward Heath on television has had noticeable effects. I have in mind not only the warm-hearted press which the victim enjoyed for the next thirty-six hours —so illustrating what I call Grist's Law (Mr John Grist is in charge of BBC current affairs programmes): unkind newspaper comment . leads to kindly television interviews and un- kind television treatment leads to a kindly press —but also the argument about current affairs producers and commentators which it set off. Little of this has reached the newspapers except in their letter columns; but some editors and leader-writers have been discussing their owl shortcomings. Why do they miss so much good copy from the screen? Why let pass without comment the version of controversial events seen by millions of people?
One idea—not entirely new—is that reporters and leader-writers should be put on to television criticism over and above the entitled television critics. They would ferret in the studios of .power, not just sit and listen: find out what cameraman gave this slant and which producer was trying to get that laugh, and just how much the anarchist spokesman was given to drink before the show started.
Certainly the newspapers, at any rate the quality ones, have been missing something. They have left the record of day-to-day national ex- perience incomplete. They have tolerated inside the fourth estate a challenge to their own stan- dards and undermined their own position by let- ling their staff work for the rival. And they have denied to Parliament much of the material with which it might defend itself against com- petitors for power.
I know there are space and time difficulties in the way of covering regularly programmes like Frost and Twenty-Four Hours; but they could be overcome. For example, papers like the Daily Telegraph could regularly use the third leader for this purpose. The provincials, too, could do it. All that is needed is a machine to record what is said in the Tv programmes; a fairly senior editorial person to watch; a secre- tary to note instant comment; aq a reporter to write what is newsworthy. Alsb,.required for the first few weeks would be an instruction to the night staff that what happens on television is news: an event or events in which millions have taken part. How can they, poor men, so farely at home between tea and midnight, be expected to remember this?
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