Democracy dies in darkness. And already shadows are falling over Washington and Los Angeles. Despite the Washington Post’s famous tagline, the paper has refused to endorse a presidential candidate for the first time in 36 years. An editorial endorsing Kamala Harris was supposedly written and abandoned. The decision led to staff resignations, fury from journalists, more than 200,00 readers reportedly cancelling subscriptions, and new concerns about media ownership. Martin Baron, a former Post executive editor, said such “cowardice” had led to “a moment of darkness that will leave democracy as a casualty”. For the title that exposed Watergate and won a Pulitzer for its enquiry into Trump’s incitement of the Capitol riots, this is a particularly grubby tragedy.
The Post’s publisher and chief executive, William Lewis, who formerly edited the Daily Telegraph, wrote in a statement: “We are returning to our roots of not endorsing presidential candidates.” (The title first did so in 1976.) “Our job at the Washington Post is to provide… non-partisan news for all Americans.” Which might be credible had it been articulated years before an election. But days before? When one of the candidates has said he will take revenge on news organisations that anger him?
Even if Lewis thought the future was “non-partisan”, did he consider the Post’s reputation? Perhaps damage to that would be acceptable compared to the damage a newly elected Trump could do to the other business interests of the Post’s owner, Jeff Bezos. Both Amazon and his space exploration company Blue Origin bid for government contracts. The non-endorsement may not have been Bezos’s decision, but good editors know instinctively what their masters want. As William Shawcross wrote about Rupert Murdoch, an owner’s wishes emanate “rather like ectoplasm”.
On the West Coast, the biotech billionaire Patrick Soon-Shiong, who bought the LA Times in 2018, refused to let the paper endorse Harris, saying: “My fear is, if we chose either one, that it would just add to the division.” That is something he should have considered before he bought a news title. Journalism – and press ownership – is all about exerting influence through choices that are made. Not making a decision is a choice and exerts influence. The tradition of media barons using their titles for their own ends goes back to Rothermere, Hearst and beyond. It was hoped the new generation of press barons would be insulated from intimidation by their wealth. In fact, they’re the same old owners, but with even more to lose.
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On the subject of owners and influence, it emerges that the Catholic Herald has been the subject of a boardroom battle won by the US private equity firm Global Emerging Markets (GEM). Alongside the 136-year-old title in GEM’s acquisitions is Christal’s and Peekay Inc, “a specialty retailer of intimate apparel and lifestyle products”. Or, as one customer put it: “The perfect place to buy my lingerie and sex wotnot.” Wotnot?
William Turvill in the Sunday Times revealed GEM fought off a takeover bid for the Herald by George Farmer, son of the Tory peer Michael Farmer. Farmer Junior is a hedge-funder turned chief executive of Parler, the social media platform once favoured by right-wing trolls and conspiracy theorists, and a GB News board member. He is married to the conservative US influencer Candace Owens, whose questionable stance on Black Lives Matters, anti-Semitism and the moon landing has earned her nearly six million followers on X. It sounds as though the Herald’s readers have had a lucky escape, sex wotnot or not.
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Much of the media’s energy in the final days before the Budget was spent dissecting the meaning of a “working person” – this year’s version of the 2023 hit, “What is a woman?” Phone-ins were dominated by plumbers, florists and dinner ladies annoyed that because they had a few shares or a rented-out flat they bought in the Eighties, they were no longer considered “working people”. There is no greater insult to a worker than to discover they’ve been promoted to the capitalist-boss class. I reject it myself, even if I’m pretty sure that under my bed is a handful of share certificates once doled out by Reach PLC.
Even Keir Starmer, whose father was, of course, a working tool-making person, appeared confused. First, he told reporters he wouldn’t use the term for people who had income from assets such as shares or property. It was soon clarified that he didn’t mean “small amounts of”, say, stocks and shares. That clarified nothing. One man’s small amount is another’s lottery win. No 10 tried again. Working people were those who “do not always have the means to write a cheque”. The only person who writes a cheque is my mum for the kids at Christmas.
The Telegraph fumed the government was delivering a “punishment beating” to aspirational people. Kwasi Kwarteng (a man you’d think should be laying low in Budget week) wrote in the Mail on Sunday that attempting to distinguish between workers and investors meant “class war is back”. The Sun, a standard-bearer for working people, remains supportive of Rachel Reeves and gave her a spread to clear up the confusion. It was, she pronounced, to be a “Budget for strivers”. Which prompts a new question: what in God’s name is a “striver”?
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This article appears in the 30 Oct 2024 issue of the New Statesman, American Horror Story