Persecuting the Press Diminishes Us All

Nick Cohen has balked at the arrest of the journalist Rhodri Phillips, who worked for Rupert Murdoch's Sun, as part of the Elveden bribes enquiry. Cohen argues that if it had happened to a journalist in any far-flung country, or even to a journalist from another, more respectable newspaper, there would have been outrage. But Phillips worked for Murdoch, so nobody gives a damn. He also mentions the ban of a BBC documentary on last year's London riots:

Even though the BBC had not discussed the guilt or innocence of the defendants, they had, for example, described how "adrenaline rushes" had powered rioters in London. Prosecutors had said the same about the alleged Birmingham murderers. The BBC had talked about bricks being thrown at cars and rioters seeking to attack the people who threw them. As had the prosecution. There is "a serious risk that this trial and the course of justice would be prejudiced," the judge intoned as he ordered suppression.

I am sorry if I am labouring the obvious, but any portrayal of any riot would discuss adrenaline rushes, stone throwing and retribution, for that is what a riot is. The BBC will be able to show its films at some future date, but the courts have set a menacing precedent. They can now censor with abandon and show a true contempt for the public as they do it. The notion that juries are intelligent and conscientious enough to put aside what they have seen on television or found on the web does not occur to learned judges. They want to ban everything even though complete control in the age of Google is the illusion of fools.

The repressive turn the British state has taken will not only affect you as a juror. As this column has said before, in the 21st century every computer-literate adult is a journalist. If you talk to police and prison officers, and put what you have found on a blog, if you tweet and post on Facebook, laws governing the freedom of the press govern you.