Newspapers

I enjoyed Samira Ahmed’s trawl through the history of movies about journalism but was surprised she didn’t mention arguably the greatest example of the genre: Alexander Mackendrick’s Sweet Smell of Success. It’s just as, perhaps even more, relevant today as when it was made. Lancaster, playing the all-powerful columnist J.J Hunsecker, produces the performance of his career. So does Tony Curtis as that “cookie full of arsenic” and press agent Sidney Falco. Though set in New York, the movie is easily seen as a searing expose of the viciousness, hypocrisy, venality and arrogance of our own beloved tabloid press. It’s all there: the ceaseless bullying of public figures, the rebarbative

Amidst the usual stiff competition this week’s palm for Most Abject Commentary goes to Sir Simon Jenkins for this truly miserable column on the aftermath and implications of the shootings in Tucson. It’s not entirely clear what Jenkins is trying to say but since he writes that “Freedom can only flourish in a climate of discipline” and concludes with “If American politics is now going the way of wounding, not healing, it needs the tonic of order. It is the great paradox of democracy. Free speech cannot exist without chains” it seems reasonable to conclude he thinks some kind of Jenkins-friendly authoritarianism would be preferable to the vulgar, boorish, messy

One of the good features in the government’s Localism Bill is the proposal for referenda on more directly-elected mayors. At present it seems only a dozen English* towns and cities are taking advantage of these plans but one hopes more will do so in the future. Contemplating this, Bagehot chews on centralisation and London’s hegemony in British (and especially English) life. As he observes, generally speaking London has been the dominant city in England for centuries, dwarfing its rivals. But there was a spell when this wasn’t the case and one need only look at Town Halls and Corn Exchanges and museums and galleries and Assembly Rooms across Britain to

You don’t need to share Julian Assange’s politics or his objectives to think that he’s the victim of at least one double standard. If he’s guilty of betraying secrets and endangering lives and making diplomacy more difficult and everything else then so are the publishers of the New York Times, the Guardian, Le Monde and every other media outlet worldwide that publishes, or republishes, anythnig to do with the leaked American diplomatic cables. A few weeks ago I suggested that Assange really is a newsman. Even if you dispute that, however, it’s hard to see how anyone can deny that he’s a news publisher. So the State Department’s PJ Crowley

Is, as someone suggested recently, to be either a dumb person’s idea of a clever person or a clever person’s idea of a dumb person. Or both. Perhaps the worst paragraph written this year comes, not surprisingly, from America’s chief metaphor-mangler Thomas Friedman: More than ever, America today reminds me of a working couple where the husband has just lost his job, they have two kids in junior high school, a mortgage and they’re maxed out on their credit cards. On top of it all, they recently agreed to take in their troubled cousin, Kabul, who just can’t get his act together and keeps bouncing from relative to relative. Meanwhile,

This is much too good to be left to John Rentoul. Page 29 of today’s Daily Mail is what they call, I believe, an “instant classic”: Read the full – very well done – story here.

I’m not sure I understand the Wikileaks controversy. If one of the many definitions of news is (and always has been) that it is something that someone, somewhere does not want you to know then, yes, Julian Assange is a journalist. Perhaps newsman would be a better, more strictly accurate way of putting it. As such, it’s strange to see Americans accusing him of treason (he’s an Australian!) or William Hague complaining that the Wikileaks document-dumps put “British lives” at risk. So what? Then there’s Jonah Goldberg complaining that a column headlined “All Quiet On the Black-Ops Front” and subtitled “Why is Julian Assange Still Alive?” has – this may

As a general rule, newspapers are owned by ogres. As with the Presidency of the United States, desiring the office or, in this instance, the title, should be considered enough to disqualify anyone from consideration. Nevertheless, it matters what kind of ogre it is. There’s a chasm between a Richard Desmond (Express) or a Sam Zell (Tribune Company) and a Rupert Murdoch (half the English-speaking world). Conrad Black, bless him, is in the latter camp. A newspaper proprietor of the proper, old-fashioned brutish school. That is, one who likes newspapers while having a suitably low opinion of both journalism and journalists. He rightly says, in this review of three books

I’m reading Keith Jeffrey’s history of the Secret Intelligence Service at the moment. There’s plenty of good stuff in it. Including Our Man in Moscow’s account of the death of Rasputin which, Samuel Hoare explained, was “a question…so sensational that one cannot describe it as one would if it were an ordinary episode of the war.” Accordingly he wrote his report “in the style of the Daily Mail“: 1st January, 1917. In the early morning of Saturday, December 30th, there was enacted in Petrograd one of those crimes which by their magnitude blur the well-defined rules of ethics and by their results change the history of a generation. GREGORY EPHEMIC