If the News of the World, the 168-year-old popular British Sunday tabloid owned by Rupert Murdoch, has closed down in the wake of a phone-hacking scandal, then we can be sure its actions have caused sufficient disgust and anxiety even in British society, known to patronise titillating journalism on a monumental scale. It is being said that the Murdoch empire wanted to shutter the News of the World in any case for reasons of adverse economics of production. In its place, it is said, the Murdochs wanted to run the Sun, which specialises in topless pictures — all seven days. By doing so, it would slash expenditure and yet retain its hold on the sizeable yellow journalism market the country offers. Even if all this surmising is right, the hacking episode — with its fallout on politics and public opinion in general — has been a shocking enough event to give the Murdochs the pretext they wanted.
A former editor of News of the World, Andy Coulson — in whose time, it appears, a good deal of the phone hacking was routinely carried out — had been handpicked by Prime Minister David Cameron to be his communications director. The man had to resign last January when the first contours of hacking-gate emerged. Now he has been arrested and a former crack reporter and royal editor of the paper has been re-arrested.
The Prime Minister is running about being defensive about his choice of spokesman. Cutting across party lines, British MPs are denouncing the Murdoch brand of journalism and pressing for a wide inquiry into Britain’s journalism culture. The reason all this is happening is that News of the World had of late begun to cut into mobile voice and text messages of ordinary people — such as a 13-year-old girl who was murdered, and soldiers who had fallen in Iraq and Afghanistan. This was to extract the last ounce of sensation possible to keep the public riveted and enhance sales and advertising. The British public drew the line at this. Nobody had minded when only stories of the private lives of the British royals and other celebrities were routinely sought to be secreted from mobile phones, and publications such as the News of the World got along just fine. But when ordinary folk became the target, the very people who boosted the tabloid’s circulation, public ire knew no bounds.
This tells us something about the British people. They love tittle-tattle, and the journalism of sexploits and sleaze, but they also greatly value an individual’s privacy (celebrities are the exception; they are seen to be “asking for it”, the way they go about, and might as well pay “celebrity tax”). In the wake of News of the World’s recent exploits, it came out that the paper thought nothing of bribing the police to get salacious details from crime cases. As for politicians, they loathed the gutter journalism, but also tried to stay in the good books of papers like News of the World (and their proprietors), for these could demolish a good man’s (or a good woman’s) reputation without thinking twice. So, it is hardly surprising that in going for News of the World, MPs have found their blood sport. The police have come under the scanner. Prized institutions are looking not so good.
In India, phone hacking by private operators is still relatively unknown (although politicians do occasionally trade charges about this). People have of late become conscious and resentful of phone-tapping by government. But unlike Britain, in India top journalists have got away lightly for getting mixed up with the undesirable actions of corporate lobbies and some politicians, as the Radia tape episode shows. The people deserve better.