Probably not the man himself. |
I
always wanted to be able to yell that. Well, the ‘front page’ bit, at any rate.
And 20 years ago next month, I had the chance.
I
was a duty chief sub for a national daily newspaper and shortly before we went
to bed that night, the news chugged through that Stephen Milligan, the
Conservative MP for Eastleigh had been found dead in somewhat compromising
circumstances.
It
seemed that he had accidentally killed himself during a spot of autoerotic
asphyxiation, wearing only stockings and suspenders, with a bin bag over his
head, an orange segment in his mouth and an electrical cord around his neck.
“Hold
the front page!” I yelled to our small but perfectly formed team – not that we
knew all these details at the time.
Now
usually, I’d be the first in line to say that, beyond the man’s death, there
was no public interest aspect in the details of that death being so widely
revealed and discussed.
However,
what changed this was that the story came at a time when John Major’s
‘Back to Basics’ campaign was in full swing, and rather seemed to conflict with such a stated governmental aim.
If
only we’d known then what we know now about Major and Edwina. Who’d a thunk
that, eh?
Anyway,
that was the context. In other words, there was a public interest angle.
Tim
Yeo, who was a junior minister in Major’s government at around the same time,
stood up at one autumn Conservative Party conference and denounced single
mothers as the cause of every problem in the country.
A
couple of months later, he was revealed to be having an affair with a single
woman who was pregnant by him.
In
other words, it was an approach of: ‘Do as I say, not as I do’.
As
such, there was a legitimate public interest angle to publishing the story.
Of
course, there are plenty of circumstances in the UK where there is absolutely
no public interest for publication of a salacious story. Some of the public
being interested doesn’t count.
The
News of the World had to try to fabricate a public interest angle in order
to justify the stories about Max Mosely, for instance. It didn’t work, but the
damage had already been done – and papers sold.
We
seem to have a peculiar attitude in the UK – and not only the unholy combination
of prurience and prudery that sees people lap up salacious stories and then
justify it to themselves by being judgmental about the very thing that they’ve
just been entertained by reading.
There’s
also a widespread series of weird attitudes toward privacy, ranging from the
spectacularly crass ‘if you’ve done nothing wrong you have nothing to hide’ to
ones whereby anyone in public life has no right to a private life, to a
position whereby you lose privacy incrementally dependent on how much you earn.
Then
there are spurious arguments such as those about Ryan Giggs: ‘Well, he’s a role
model’.
Who
said so – did he describe himself as a role model; or others? Should he be
penalised for what others say about him?
If
he declared himself a role model, then perhaps you do have a public interest
justification for publishing details of how he shagged a few women – although
it also remains to be seen why we, as a whole, remain so utterly obsessed with
monogamy and seem to experience a collective fit if anyone else’s life
experience doesn’t actually fit this subjective – and some would say
unrealistic – ethical stance.
The
French are different.
Buy
a newspaper on the other side of the Channel and it will not be full of stories
about who shagged who, who fell out of a nightclub at 4am and so forth.
So
it was something of a surprise to see that a gossip magazine had decided to
publish the ‘news’ that President François Hollande had been having an affair.
Outside
of the ‘yuck: who’d do it with him?’ questions – do some people really not get
the sexual allure of power? – it seems that what has subsequently upset parts
of the British press is that the French have not made more of it.
After
all, how dare they not be as infantile about sexual relationships involving
consenting adults as we appear to be, in general.
The
biggest concern in much of France seems to be that the president was riding
pillion on a scooter.
The
allegations about the affair are not new, but publishing photographs of –
allegedly – the couple is and certainly breaks the country’s culture of the
private lives of politicians remaining, err, private.
The
‘other woman’, Julie Gayet, is set to sue Closer for invasion of privacy.
Good
luck to her.
What
happens between consenting adults is nobody else’s business – unless there is a
genuine public interest angle, as illustrated above.
In
the case of a former French president, François Mitterrand, the public were not
worried about him having an affair – only whether or not he used public money
for private business.
The
same matters are the only relevant ones in the case of Hollande.
So,
dear France – please do not go down the route of commoditising people’s private
lives for the financial benefit of a few.
And
for anyone who really thinks that they have a right to know who is shagging who, just because it's sex or because of their own set of values – grow up.
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