How Number 10’s contempt for modern media caused it to be hit by Marcus Rashford iceberg

The Number 10 view of the modern media – that those of us in it are prone to hysteria – is not entirely baseless. The government was in a mess about several things a fortnight ago and I doubt many of us can remember what they were. The news cycle now spins ever faster like a hamster wheel of doom, to paraphrase Boris Johnson. Much of it is nonsense. Many rows or fights in the news are confected or overblown.

While British journalism always placed considerable emphasis on excitement, novelty and mischief, the use of social media, and the requirement to capture attention and be heard amid  the cacophony, means that it has gone into overdrive. Big Tech (Google, Facebook) has shredded the industry, destroying the economic model and driving down salaries and staffing numbers. Many of the old constraints, the production schedules, the checks and balances, the intergenerational range of experience in an old news room, no longer exist to anything like the same extent, apart from in a few outlets.

At the most basic behavioural level, what might have been muttered darkly by a hack or shouted angrily in the bar at closing time is now tweeted out and the readers shout back. Twenty years ago that irate thought would, in the print universe, go through a commissioning, checking and production process, and been killed on a whim at any point by an editor.

I should say that the good news is that brilliant youngsters continue to want to become journalists. They know it is interesting; it is, at its best, a lot of fun; and it matters.

To that end, if you don’t subscribe to outlets like this, kindly consider doing so. Subscribe here.

Drat. I’ve just remembered I left this short article in front of the paywall. I’ll put it behind the paywall once I’ve edited the Reaction daily email for subscribers. That’s modern media for you.

So, Number 10 has a point. But justified scepticism on journalism tips over into complete contempt, and that leads, as we have seen in recent days, to catastrophic mistakes like the government’s bungling on free school meals. If every story is deemed to be nonsense “got up by the media”, then Number 10 runs the risk of missing real danger when it appears dead ahead.

Unfairly or not, it is Dominic Cummings, the chief adviser to the Prime Minister, who gets the credit and blame for this anti-media state of affairs, even though Number 10 denies that he is involved day to day in the communications operation. He’s also been targeted – by his most vehement critics and pursuers online – with a vile viciousness that is appalling.

Cummings is no fan of journalists and pundits, although funnily enough he has worked for Boris Johnson and Michael Gove, both journalist pundits and he is married to another good journalist. Cummings could have made a great journalist, tightly edited, and let’s not forget that in a former life he left the employment of The Spectator on the orders of Andrew Neil shortly after publishing something on the website “cartoon related” that he should not have done.

The problem, though, with thinking that the media is mostly useless, and obsessed with non-stories that fizzle and fade in 48 hours, is that this is true right up until the moment it is not. And then you’re stuffed.

An old rule of British journalism is never to quote yourself – “as I wrote last week”… “I refer you to my column dated the whatever.” Boring. And certainly don’t quote yourself tweeting on Twitter, of all places.

Sometimes rules are made to be broken, and there’s brevity in a tweet.

I tweeted this earlier today, seeking to explain the mindset that had led Number 10 to this place on Rashford where it will eventually have to u-turn after having set fire to its reputation.

“When Number 10 philosophy of comms is media are idiots + most stories are fleeting, hysterical nonsense, they make themselves vulnerable to hitting unexpectedly large iceberg. Like Rashford campaign. Now been struck and there is three feet of water and rising in the engine room.”

Many hacks got in touch privately to share stories about the bizarreness of this Number 10 and its comms operation. It’s like watching a publicly-funded immersive art installation performed by confused lager louts.

The Rashford disaster is the worst manifestation of this approach since the Barnard Castle episode in the Summer, that had Cummings at its centre. This looks as though it has nothing to do with him. Who is in charge in there? Is anyone?

In the olden days, New Labour used to be criticised for treating the media with contempt. Actually, its media obsession was rooted in a hardheaded understanding that sometimes stories come along that really do damage so you have to watch out. Alastair Campbell had this trope when questioned – it’s all media tittle tattle, focus on the issues – but he knew, and we hacks knew that he knew, that he understood the harm an out of control story can do to a political leader if it is that one in ten thousand tale that captures the public’s imagination. Going into a grim winter, with poverty looming for many, Rashford is just such a story.

The price of power is eternal vigilance in communications. Look out for large icebergs. Pay attention when hoves into view an enormously popular footballer campaigning to feed poverty-stricken children in a pandemic.