Feminists should fight for press freedom
I have experienced media intrusion, but scrutiny is the price we pay to hold the powerful to account
Donald Trump has a soft spot for English libel law. Perhaps it’s a coincidence that he has been publicly accused of sexual misconduct by – at my last count – at least 22 women. In October 2016, when the tally was still in the low teens, Trump, then a candidate, mused aloud about changing US law to make it easier for public figures such as himself to silence accusers: “In England you have a good chance of winning. And deals are made and apologies are made.” Since then, more and more allegations have been made against him. So he’s complained more loudly and more frequently about the inconvenience of the American First Amendment.
Yet despite Trump’s presidency – or perhaps in opposition to it – the feminist Metoo movement has made a sweeping impact on American society at a rate that hasn’t been seen in Britain. To those of us who have been involved in prominent cases, the explanation is clear. Trump may not entirely understand US libel law – contrary to many of his claims, it does protect even public figures from “malice” – but he’s right about a broader point. It is much easier for powerful men to silence allegations of sexual harassment in Britain than in America. If feminists are serious about holding men with power to account, they should put our restrictive media laws at the top of their agenda.
No one wants to see spurious allegations against innocent men. I have argued elsewhere that the Metoo movement needs to reclaim the principles of due process. But British press regulation already provides safeguards against the publication of inaccurate stories. So instead of challenging the facts of the charges against them, powerful men who seek to silence their accusers – as in the case highlighted by The Telegraph this week – increasingly use arguments based on privacy (won’t someone think of their children?) or confidentiality agreements.
More than many people, I know the trauma of being targeted by a malicious and partisan press. When I became the first person to put my name to allegations of sexual misconduct by the former deputy PM Damian Green, his allies in the press made life more hellish than anything I’ve known. I moved out of my home to avoid being door-stepped; old boyfriends were called and offered money for embarrassing stories, or better yet, photographs. I had some recourse under existing law. After a Cabinet Office investigation found my story “plausible” and proved that Green had lied to it, I pursued the paper which had most directly fabricated claims about me. It eventually settled without admission of fault, removed the article in question and paid me £11,000.
My experience was trial by media at its worst – as a result, a few organisations have asked me to lend support to greater regulation of the press. But I’ve always said no. If feminists like me are serious about exposing abuse by powerful men, we should be campaigning for more light to be shed on the lives of public figures, not less. I can assure readers that, with less restrictive UK laws on privacy, we’d know a lot more about some of the politicians accused of sexual harassment in Westminster than has ever been published.
The Telegraph’s fight to reform the rules around non-disclosure agreements is essential in this battle. Sexual harassment usually involves a repeat offender. But what if a senior businessman or politician signs non-disclosure agreements with three women, and then a fourth refuses, making an allegation public? The fourth looks like an isolated case and can’t prove that she’s not. It’s true that NDAS can offer accusers a chance at compensation without the trauma of a public battle, but any reform of NDAS dealing with sexual harassment must include a mechanism to allow cluster reporting.
Our media can be vile. When I was on the receiving end, I challenged papers on accuracy and malice in their coverage of me, as the law allows – but I always turned down suggestions that I challenge them on the grounds of privacy or, worse, Google’s “right to be forgotten”. The search by lawyers for ever more backdoor methods of muzzling the press serves only the powerful. The fact that we’re all open to scrutiny – provided it’s accurate – is a price we pay to hold the powerful to account. That is a feminist cause.