Guardian of its own decline

Crisis might be too strong a word to describe the current condition of the Guardian, but it is caught in an editorial rigor mortis which threatens long-term decline and from which there is no easy escape.

Faced with a slump in daily sales to 383,000 in January - down 6.5 per cent year-on-year, a figure which the paper’s media website curiously managed to avoid reporting - in the wake of the launch of compact editions of the Independent and Times, editor Alan Rusbridger has announced that the Guardian will not be following suit with a tabloid edition of its own.

Fair enough. But exactly what is his strategy for stemming the Guardian’s circulation decline? He hasn’t a minute to waste, for it seems to be gathering pace. Trade estimates which come my way show daily sales have fallen even further in February to 368,000, a decline of almost 10 per cent year-on-year.

Only recently the Guardian had great fun crowing that sales of the Sun were the lowest for a quarter-century; now, so are the Guardian’s, though you will not read that on its website either. The paper’s in-house apologist, media pundit Roy Greenslade, so quick to pounce on the troubles, real or imagined, of others, managed to gloss over the predicament, yet again, in his weekly prognostications on Monday.

Rusbridger’s reason for not producing a tabloid edition was unconvincing: he wanted to maintain "the integrity of the Guardian’s journalism". But one of the problems with the Guardian’s journalism, which limits its appeal, is that it lacks much integrity. Every story, news feature and analytical piece is rammed through Rusbridger’s liberal-Left prism.

The result is not news and analysis you can trust but ideologically-driven and agenda-ridden journalism which appeals increasingly only to the paper’s core Left-wing, public-sector readership. There was a time when Rusbridger dreamed of broadening the paper’s appeal, moving his tanks onto the Times’s lawn and aiming for 600,000 sales. In practice, he has done the opposite, narrowing its scope by withdrawing relentlessly into a Left-wing laager.

In difficult times like these, being controlled by the Scott Trust is not an advantage. It is, of course, a wonderful bulwark for editorial independence and against undue commercial pressures. But it does not make for bold or speedy decision-making.

The Guardian’s tabloid plans were hatched during months of research, focus groups and dummies. Key executives were in favour of it. But the Guardian likes to think of itself as a collective and the staff, after much consultation, was found to be unenthusiastic. This reflected Rusbridger’s own indecision; the tabloid has been shelved.

There is a strong case for saying the Guardian needs a new editor, whatever its size. But Rusbridger has only been in the job since 1995, which is a relatively short span by Guardian standards. There are plenty of impressive alternatives, from Observer editor Roger Alton to G2’s Ian Katz (who could rediscover the paper’s lost reputation for innovation) to the fashionable political columnist Jonathan Freedland.

But it is in the nature of the beast that the Scott Trust is not quick to sack editors even when they are past their sell-by date. Liz Forgan has just taken over from the late Hugo Young as chairman and is unlikely to relish the ructions that Rusbridger’s removal would involve. But without a tabloid edition, short of an alternative strategy and with an editor treading water, the Guardian faces the sort of genteel but steady decline that Britain faced in the 1970s.

Since the paper was a great fan of these collectivist times, some may regard that as a fitting fate.

NOW that Alex Polier, the young lady alleged to have had a two-year affair with Senator John Kerry, Democratic frontrunner for his party’s presidential candidate, has denied the allegations, the serious American media are looking more principled and reliable than their British equivalents.

August journals like the New York Times and Washington Post refused to carry the rumours (because they were just that), as did the newscasts of the major TV networks, which also take their journalism seriously. By contrast, just about everybody in Britain - tabloids, broadsheets and broadcasters - piled into the story, which Ms Polier now tells us is a non-story. So game, set and match to America’s higher standards of journalism.

Except that something is not quite right. Friday’s Sun quoted Polier’s mother as saying that Kerry was "after her" [ie Alex], her father described the senator as a "sleazeball" and both opined that "he’s not the sort of guy" they’d choose for their daughter.

Yet by Monday night Associated Press was carrying a statement from Ms Polier’s parents describing the rumours as "unfounded" and concluding: "We appreciate the way Senator Kerry has handled the situation and intend on voting for him for President."

That’s an interesting development for folks who’ve been reported to be registered Republicans and who were supposed to regard the senator as a "sleazeball". Either the Sun made up or grossly distorted the quotes it published on Saturday or something is going on behind the scenes about which we know nothing. In other words, either the Sun is living proof of British gutter journalism or somebody should explain the Poliers’ sudden change of heart.

The Sun stands by its story, and confirms that its reporter, Brian Flynn, spoke to the father himself. Over to you, Mr Polier.

ENCOURAGING signs that the British obsession with celebrity has reached saturation and might even be on the wane. Hello! magazine has said goodbye to an astonishing 35 per cent of its readers in the past year, while rival OK!, which recently replaced it as the market leader, is down 10 per cent. Heat, which appeals to younger readers, is up - but only by two per cent, not enough to compensate for the declines of its bigger brothers.

There’s more good news: reality TV is beginning to lose its grip as well.Five’s celebrity reality show, Back to Reality, managed to lose more than one million viewers between its Sunday and Monday night episodes. By Monday night, only 700,000 viewers bothered to tune in to the early edition, a3 per cent share, even though it featured I’m a Celebrity winner Kerry McFadden.

The reality formats are becoming increasingly desperate: the latest, Gender Swap, involves Carol Smillie and Shaun Williamson trying to pass themselves off as members of the opposite sex. That should do for reality TV what the big girl from Glasgow has done for Pop Idol.

MANY serious British journalists dream of running a newspaper that is unashamedly highbrow, like the New York Times or Le Monde, in which news is rigorously separate from opinion, and comprehensive coverage of politics, foreign affairs and the arts leaves no room for vulgar matters involving celebrities.

Stephen Glover, columnist for the Daily Mail and Spectator, has long held such a dream since he failed to make a success of the Independent on Sunday. He is scouring the City for £15 million to launch what is being described as a "British Le Monde" with modest but upmarket target sales of 100,000.

He has apparently recruited former Guardianista Francis Wheen and the Independent’s excellent Simon Carr to the cause, as well as the redoubtable Frank Johnson of Telegraph and Spectator fame. Formidable journalists all, though together they run the risk of amounting to no more than a coterie of disengaged and disgruntled commentators.

I doubt if there is much of a niche for such a publication in Britain’s crowded newspaper market. Even a brand as well-established and serious as the Financial Times is struggling to reverse the decline in its British readership. If it can be done, I would welcome it - but I am certain it can’t be done for anything like £15 million.

Over the past six years, the Business has spent closer to £40 million to cultivate a similar highbrow readership: profitability is still a year off - and we only have the cost of coming out once a week. If Glover does raise the funds, I’d like to know from whom - I have some snake oil guaranteed to make millions if only some far-sighted financier would back it.