Posted by: Malcolm Redfellow on: July 10, 2009
The whole Murdoch/NoW/Sun bugging and blagging business will be covered elsewhere, by those closer to the action.
Meanwhile, the air is full of non-denials.
One thing is clear, though: despite the statement by “Yates of the Yard”, this one will not go away, despite Benedict Brogan’s rush to judgement and presumption:
That “no further investigation is required” from John Yates vindicates David Cameron’s decision to put his arms around Andy Coulson and hug him close. The question of his survival “does not even arise,” I was told this morning, and Yates of the Yard appears to have backed that view. It was telling, by the way, that he put John Prescott in his box by saying there was no evidence that the former DPM’s phone was tapped.
In passing, has anyone seen John Yates and Brian Coleman in the same room at the same time?
Meanwhile, the Guardian is playing a blinder by focussing, for the time being, on the affronted celebs. Anyone on the C List (why does Vanessa Feltz spring to mind?) can now get a name in the frame, and even on the Beeb.
The New York Times, from a comfortable perspective, has a considered take on the topic:
One of the questions was why Scotland Yard and other institutions that Britain has relied on to keep the worst excesses of its newspapers in check had failed to act when the practices uncovered by The Guardian had come to their attention, as they apparently had repeatedly in recent years.
In other words, the Met has a vested interest in a cover-up. Indeed, Yates’s response was itself, as the Times implies, a tad Iranian:
The officer, Assistant Commissioner John Yates, made the announcement only hours after he was assigned by Sir Paul Stephenson, the head of Scotland Yard, to “establish the facts” behind the disclosures. [Malcolm's emphasis]
Another issue is Yates’s attempt to narrow the field of play. As Nick Davies, the only true begetter of this business, responds:
In all his comments about the scale of the problem, Yates referred only to the activities of Clive Goodman, the News of the World’s royal reporter, who was sent to prison in January 2007 for hacking phones. Goodman, he told us, had worked with the private investigator Glenn Mulcaire on “hundreds of potential targets”, only some of whom had then been successfully hacked.
As a reflection of the involvement of one single man in the dark art of phone-tapping, that is a spectacular scale of activity. But as an answer to the Guardian’s story, it looks very much like an attempt to avoid giving any answer at all.
The scale of this hacking and bugging defies comprehension, and certainly demands more than “only hours” of a scrutineer’s time:
The outcry prompted by The Guardian’s disclosures was not directed against the Murdoch papers alone. The Guardian said confidential files compiled by Britain’s official information commissioner showed that one private investigator tracked down by the police had received a total of 13,343 requests, from 305 reporters, for information that typically required hacking into confidential databases, including tax returns, phone records, social security data, bank statements, records of drivers’ licenses and information on police computers.
Another point is the ambiguities in the approach taken by the Met:
Strange all that. It almost looks as if (1) was a distractor from the other two. And (3) is indefensible.
The Washington Post cogently sums it like this:
Mark Stephens, an expert in media law, said that the police will have to reopen their earlier investigations if one of the victims files an official complaint.
“If the police knew [someone's phone was bugged] and failed to alert them, they would be in breach of their statutory duties,” he said in an interview. “There are no laughing policeman in London tonight.”
The Murdoch operation is nothing is not political. At some point in the recent past, it switched its favours to a hypothetical Tory administration. So, three other thoughts: