Mirror plumb the depths of journalism – anyone shocked?

The appalling way that the three victims died in the case of the ex-Bulls flanker, Joseph Ntshongwana, and his axe murdering rampage in the KwaZulu-Natal townships this week (one was decapitated, another’s head was left hanging on by a nerve, there are no details of the third victim) is as terrible as anything real life or fiction could conceive. 

Yet the way this story has been reported is, in journalistic terms, as appalling. Here in South Africa, the story broke gradually, and to the SA media’s credit, nothing was taken for granted. One almost-victim who escaped reported that the axe-wielding Ntshongwana accused him of having raped his daughter, infecting her with HIV. SA sources were careful to stress that at this stage, there was no confirmation of this event having taken place, or even whether Ntshongwana had a daughter.

They were also careful not to name the suspect, for fear of how this may affect his daughter (if she existed).

The Daily Mirror, however, came out with a horrible piece of lazy, sensationalist ‘journalism’ – under the headline “Rugby ace held after rapists are murdered with axe”. At this time, the facts seemed to point more towards random killings, rather than systematic tracking down of a gang of rapists. No matter, the Mirror’s headline ran as above, slandering those who had died such awful deaths as rapists, and the killer as an avenging father.

The first paragraph read “A former rugby star allegedly butchered three thugs with an axe in a vigilante attack after they gang-raped his daughter.” Not “in the belief that they had gang-raped his daughter”. Maybe it’s less snappy. But it’s accurate. To be even more accurate, some mention should have been made of the fact that this gang rape may never have taken place, and at that stage it hadn’t been confirmed that the suspect even had a daughter.

Today, the SA police have confirmed that there is no evidence or suspicion of any rape having happened to any member of Ntshongwana’s family. The Mirror’s ‘journalist’, Adrian Shaw, had written a story without considering that the killer might just be a crazed killer, and the victims, one of whom was a security guard on his way home from work, carrying dinner for his family, innocent victims of tragically brutal violence.

Nice one, Mirror, you bunch of cretins. Particularly Mr Shaw, who seemingly checked no facts, and couldn’t care less what drivel he writes, confident in the knowledge that his readers are stupid and wouldn’t question it.

I followed this story really closely because I live in South Africa, and was interested in how all sources, both in SA and in the UK, were reporting it. The question is, how often is this happening in other stories, where no one is checking the minutiae of the story? How much of these kind of newspapers is total and utter irresponsible drivel?

While the newpaper industry dies, Rod Liddle rejoices

This weekend, the national papers gave us an indication of just how many freelance sub-editors they have laid off during the recession. A smaller band of regular subs is now trawling through more and more content, and standards are slipping, with the appalling result that Rod Liddle is being afforded more and more space, like a creeping, insidious plague.

As an example of the mistakes creeping in around the industry, The Independent, as part of its double-page graphic spread about MPs' expenses, had John Prescott listed as the Prime Minister. It's almost possible that this was a joke, but in the circumstances you would think not. Nontheless, there he was; his picture, his little info-box detailing his expenses claims, and there underneath his name was his title: Prime Minister.

Elsewhere, and arguably less embarrassingly, The Sunday Times published an article about England cricketer Ravi Bopara. David Gower wrote the words, and with it came a helpful info-box to guide the reader through the young batsman's career so far- except they had him down as a Sussex player, when he is actually an Essex player. It's how the England coach Andy Flower, who used to be at Essex, knows so much about him. And defeats the point of an info-box, really.

Yet this was far from the most heinous of the weekend's errors. In what can only be described as a monumental error, some editorial misadventure, some diabolical breakdown in communication, allowed Rod Liddle almost two full pages of The Sunday Times sport section. It may be wishful thinking to call this a mistake, but the idea that he would be given so much room by an editor sound of mind and proficiency is frankly unthinkable.

There he was, postulating and posturing: he, Liddle, the fan's voice of the Sunday times. An antidote to the elitism of the rest of the paper - he brings a taste of the terraces, a glimpse of Millwall circa 1989. Hence this weekend's missive, containing a list of which Chelsea players he'd like to punch, and how Millwall never get a penalty, so by some twisted logic, Chelsea shouldn't be upset when they are denied two or three genuine claims in a Champions League semi-final, a level of football Millwall haven't threatened to reach for a while.

Except he doesn't really like to do the terrace view any more. He's started writing like a 'proper' sports writer, diagnosing problems in Chelsea's team, the reasons why he, Rod Liddle, who seeth and knoweth all, was happy that they lost to Barcelona - as if his spiteful feelings on the matter are somehow newsworthy. The headline shouldn't have been about Chelsea, it should have been about Liddle.

"Monumental arrogance and the belief in their divine right to win, that nothing should stand in their way" is what Liddle points to as the worst of Chelsea's sins. If he's going to pose as a proper sports writer, Liddle needs to start reading some proper sports books - Ed Smith, author of What Sport Tells Us About Life, may well agree that Chelsea exhibited these characteristics; but in his book he recognises that those very traits are what make these players so fascinating, often the very reason for their success, and if they're not appealing, at least they make for good theatre.

It is part of how they operate at the highest level; Smith's analysis of Zinedine Zidane being a perfect example. Zidane, he wrote, was a man who had all his life believed, and proved, his ability to choose his own future, to decide destiny by virtue of his extraordinary talent. Then, in the match meant to be his swansong, Zidane wasn't winning, wasn't controlling the play, or his destiny - and had no mechanism with which to cope. His destiny was out of his hands, even his talent could not win the World Cup for France and allow him to retire on that note. So he headbutted the Italian defender Matterazzi, and a new destiny was chosen.

It may be self-indulgent to credit the pampered, whinging footballers with being anything more than just self-aggrandizing egomaniacs. I say self-indulgent because we all want sport to mean more than simply people more talented than us making money out of our adoration for them. But it's got to be a better way of looking at things that Liddle manages.

Chelsea aren't a pleasant bunch to watch sometimes, but to play at that high level, there is an element of the Zidane mentality in every one of those players; even when their talent is a fraction of his, the mentality of being a professional sportsman demands a bit of that arrogance, that often-curious belief in destiny. In many cases, it's the entire point.

What would the British media do to Zinedine Zidane?

On Sunday night, the World Cup of football- or soccer, for those of you that way inclined- was won by Italy. This, however, is not even the main story of the night. Nor is the fact that it is the fourth time "the Azzuri" have won it, putting them one win behind Brazil. No, the night's intrigue centred, as so many times before, on Zinedine Zidane.

Universally regarded as a genuis, voted the player of the tournament by FIFA's committee, darling of the French people- he managed to score his nation's only goal in the first 90 minutes of play, and then get himself sent off for what amounted to a pretty grave physical assault on an Italian player. A running head-butt to the chest was delivered with sickening force to the sternum of Marco Matterazzi, who coincidentally had scored Italy's only goal just a few minutes after Zidane had scored his.

The issue I wish to discuss here is not whether he did was right or not; not whether Matterazzi's blatant mischievious baiting of Zidane was as reprehensible as the subsequent attack, or whether Zidane, in his last ever match, has ruined his own legacy and tainted his own career. Even now, only two days after that fateful night in Berlin, the French people are rallying to support Zidane- the Champs d'Elysees bore numerous messages of adoration for Zidane, whose role is now of fallen hero, rather than the pantomime villain you would expect had be been the English captain. The English captain of this tournament was, of course, David Beckham. Back in 1998, as a precocious youngster, he was sent off for a petulent flick-kick at a nearby standing Argentinian player, while Beckham himself was prostrate on the ground.

This dismissal, warranted or not, earned him the position of Public Enemy number one for a long time. Voodoo dolls were created and burned while the national tabloid media orchestrated an effective hate campaign against him for allegedly ruining England's chances of winning the World Cup that year. Beckham himself has come full circle, of course. Just two years after his ordeal and subsequent trial by tabloid, he was named England captain in a surprise move that stuck well, and can on balance be considered a success. Yet Zidane, by physically attacking an opponent three-quarters of the way through a World Cup Final, as Captain, disgraced himself on a far larger stage, with a much higher stake- his crime (and it was a crime, against football, sportsmanship, and his nation's hopes) was all the more disgusting for that; and more to the point, far more serious than Beckham's was.

What, had it been England and Beckham in that final and not France and Zidane, would have become of the disgraced captain? The answer is simple. Our snide red-topped arbiters of national mood would have banded together once again to form a journalistic lynch mob; pulling the strings like cowardly puppeteers hiding behind their by-line, and letting the passion of the nation's supporters do their work for them. In short, "Beckingham Palace", as Beckham's country pile is known, would have been burned to the ground. It wouldn't be safe for him to return for quite some time. Maybe there is more than a hint of resentment over Beckham's shrewd playing of the fame game, he being the pioneer of "image rights" in football contracts, and using himself and his own sporting profile as a marketing tool on a scale hitherto unseen. Footballers from the 60's onwards have been used for advertising- Brut, Brylcreem, all stalwarts of Sunday League changing rooms, have used footballers- but never quite like Beckham.

Contrast this with Zidane; not only did he perform such a reprehensible act on the biggest stage in the world, but as he was dismissed and walked to the dressing room, showed nothing in the way of emotion. He had the same arrogant look in his eye that he has always had; the same one he had while lifting the World Cup Trophy in 1998, and the same one he still wore while headbutting a Champions' League opponent a few years later, earning him a five-match ban.

The British media would have pilloried him even more for the sheer arrogance of his appearance as he left the field- at least Beckham would have had the decency to cry or at least look disappointed. Zidane yesterday enjoyed a reception with the French President, where he was treated still as a national treasure, and told he was a "man of the heart". Only a handful of French commentators have come out in open criticism of Zidane, even then preferring to bemoan the "shattered dreams of a nation" rather than pursuing an open campaign of targeted blame.

While this sickly adoration of their talismanic Captain seems misplaced given his track record of nastiness and the gravity of his most recent and terminal act, we must surely reflect that it would be preferable to the vicious attack-mode thatwould have swept England had the same happened. And no Englishman would like to admit it- but perhaps the French are simple better losers than we are?