There are so many axes being ground in Tom Watson and Martin Hickman’s fascinating and explosive new book, Dial M for Murdoch: News Corporation and the Corruption of Britain, that it should be handled with asbestos gloves and read behind protective goggles.
The health warning that should be given before reading is that two of the most persistent and relentless pursuers of News International and all things Murdoch are Tom Watson and Chris Bryant, who, after contributing to the downfall of Tony Blair, became the targets of appalling intrusions into their personal lives, sometimes by illegal methods.
If they hadn’t been so persistent, I doubt we would have the Leveson Inquiry and a serious debate about the feral nature of the British tabloids. But both men are members of the shadow Cabinet and both want to hurt Murdoch and Cameron. So read this book with a degree of caution.
However, it would be unwise to dismiss it as just a malicious payback. It is a serious and well-researched book, which should not be ignored.
All politicians want to look squeaky clean, masterful, human and in control, and none of them want their dirty little secrets smeared into the public domain. All parties and leaders need to keep close to journalistic Big Brother. And there was no brother bigger than Murdoch. When he was asked at a select committee hearing about what influence he exercised over prime ministers and presidents, he replied, ‘I wish they’d leave me alone.’ He has a point.
What is so troubling, but not really all that surprising, about this book is how far, how wide and how deep the tentacles of News International spread. The police and public officials had been bribed for stories since time immemorial by most newspapers. But the private eyes used by News International were better connected and better at it — and far more ruthless.
The theme that runs through Dial M for Murdoch is fear. Fear that one day that a white News of the World surveillance van might appear in your street.
Even the Information Commissioner, Richard Thomas, was intimidated and felt powerless to take on the power of the press, despite amassing a mountain of evidence of apparently serious wrongdoing by all national newspapers (except the Guardian) in Operation Motorman.
One day, he was invited to News international HQ for a friendly chat about privacy that he thought went rather well. He was surprised to find himself monstered in the Sunday Times a few days later.
Would John Yates of the Yard have been incentivised to look at the three bins of notes seized from jailed private detective Mulcaire if Yates wasn’t just a little concerned that his extra-marital affair might be made public? Quite probably he would have done — but the question lingers.
But he didn’t, and these little hand grenades were lying dormant for years. It is not surprising that he later admitted that his decision to not re-open the investigation was ‘crap’. Even the CPS bizarrely advised that hacking telephones wasn’t a criminal offence — until someone reminded them of the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000, used in the courts every day.
But one truth is plainly evident: every part of the establishment apart from the judiciary wanted to keep their eyes firmly shut about what had really been going on.
There is one part of this book that really did send a chill down my spine. It was when the select committee for culture media and sport decided to investigate News International. This is what former NOTW chief reporter Neville Thurlbeck (he of the email ‘for Neville’ notoriety) said to Tom Watson:
‘When [the select committee] was formed or rather when it got onto all the hacking stuff, there was an edict came down from the editor and it was find out every single thing you can about every single member; who was gay, who had affairs, anything we can use. Each reporter was given two members and there were six reporters that went on for around ten days. I don’t know who looked at you. It fell by the way side. I think even Ian Edmondson [the news editor] realised there was something quite horrible about doing this.’
According to Watson, Gordon Brown called him to tell him that, ‘Rupert Murdoch had phoned Tony Blair to tell him to call Watson off’.
‘Although the committee wanted Brooks to give evidence its members whose private lives News International had pored over, it capitulated and decided not to summon her. On the day that the committee met to discuss the issue, two Labour MPs close to Tony Blair, Janet Anderson and Rosemary McKenna, were absent.’
The gay Plaid Cymru MP Adam Price said this:
‘I was told by a senior Conservative member of the committee who I knew was in direct contact with executives at News International, that if we went for her [Brooks] they would go for us – effectively they would delve into our personal lives in order to punish us.’
To my mind, this is an Armageddon of a story that the press seemed have missed or ignored.
Ghastly as it is that the telephones of celebrities have been hacked, and ghoulish that they did the same to Milly Dowler and the war dead, this is as nothing compared to attempting to blackmail a select committee of the House of Commons.
The real heroes of the book, which no newspaper editor will want you to read, are the members of the select committee for culture, media and sport and its courageous, tenacious and persistent chairman, John Whittingdale. We are in debt to them.
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