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Baffour’s Beefs with Baffour Ankomah
A CHANCE discussion this past week on the merits of the Ghanaian media brought up a sharp point that has necessitated this column. We were discussing the explosion of radio stations and TV channels in Ghana and how that impacts on the flow and even the quality of information reaching the people. There are over 250 radio stations and close to 40 TV channels in the country, all vying for the attention, if not the affection, of a population of 24 million people.
At the mention of the number of radio and TV stations in Ghana, my wife, a Zimbabwean through and through, exclaimed: “But you can’t control any information if there are so many radio and TV stations in the country. And they will not be able to provide quality information.”
I agreed to the second part of her remark, not the first, because there are far more radio and TV stations in Britain and the USA than in Ghana, but the UK and US governments are able to control any information they want to control despite the multiplicity of the media platforms in their countries.
It is about knowing what the national interest is, and then asking the media – through legislation, convention and even persuasion – to respect the national interest. And, in the UK and the US, the media dutifully respect the national interest!
In 2010 or thereabouts, as part of his military training as a royal, Prince Harry of the UK went on a duty tour in Afghanistan. Before he left the shores of Britain, the authorities in London were able to convince the multiplicity of the British, American, European and the Australian media not to run any story about Prince Harry being in Afghanistan for fear that his presence in that country would be exposed and the enemy could do him harm.
And … wait for it … the whole gamut of the British, American, European and Australian media dutifully fell in line!
Prince Harry’s story only came out because a year or so later, a small American magazine, feeling peeved about having been left out of the original briefing, threatened to run the story.
Not to wait for the magazine to do the threatened harm, the authorities in London promptly pulled out the prince from Afghanistan before the magazine’s story came out.
And then the whole British, American, European and Australian media pretended as if they were hearing the story for the first time – until one of them, no longer able to play the hypocrite, revealed that all the media had known about the story a full one year previously, but they had been told not to run it.
That is what we call “control of information”. And this happens on a routine basis in Western countries whose media are affectionately said to be the freest in the whole wide world! But can the same be said of the African or Zimbabwean media? And if not, why not?
Zimbabwe default
But what really struck me during the discussion on the Ghanaian media was my wife’s natural reflex about the “control of information” as a major concern, instead of her finding joy in what the multiplicity of radio and TV stations bring: choice.
Was it because she is a Zimbabwean conditioned by the Chimurenga spirit of her home country where, on account of the long liberation struggle and the attempts by foreign powers to effect a regime change in recent years, the “control of information” has become a necessity, in fact a necessary weapon of national survival?
If she were, say, a Ghanaian whose country does not have, or has not had, the same experiences as Zimbabwe, would she have automatically put premium on the control of information?
Last year, Ghana’s President, John Mahama, was asked about the conduct of the country’s vociferous media, and his answer was quite eye-opening: “I believe that we have all learned some lessons,” the president said, “that there is a limit to how we can push the kind of freedom of expression we have on our airwaves and in our media.”
He continued: “Some people have been jailed recently for contempt and it reminded people after a long while that there are limits to freedom of expression, even though our Constitution guarantees it as a right.
“We have a very liberal chapter on the media in our Constitution, yet the same Constitution says those freedoms are subject to laws that are necessary for the maintenance of peace and public safety, etc. The Executive does not have the kind of powers that the courts have.
“We expect that the media will exercise some form of self-regulation. Unfortunately, that doesn’t appear to be happening. The Ghana Journalists’ Association has a code of ethics, but it is completely ignored.”
And then came the rub: “Ghana, I guess, has the highest media exposure per capita in the world. For a population of 24 million people living in the size of territory that we have, we have about 250 radio stations. Almost every district in this country has multiple radio stations. So we must surely have the highest media exposure in the world per capita.
“In Accra alone, for every micro-centimetre that you tune your radio, you land on another station. And every radio station has something to say.
“Unfortunately, salaries are low in broadcasting and so most of the radio stations do not really care to get trained journalists to work for their establishments because of the low salaries they pay. So they just pick anybody who has a talent.”
By next year, if digitalisation becomes a reality in Zimbabwe as hoped, the country might go the way of Ghana with a multiplicity of radio and TV stations. The question is: Will they give President Mugabe cause to express concern as Ghana’s president did last year?
Let’s listen to President Mahama again because what he said was very pertinent: “We expect that the media will exercise some form of self-regulation. Unfortunately, that doesn’t appear to be happening … I believe that we have all learned some lessons that there is a limit to how we can push the kind of freedom of expression we have on our airwaves and in our media … There are limits to freedom of expression, even though our Constitution guarantees it as a right.”
This, coming from a Ghanaian president whose country has not been under attack by foreign powers as Zimbabwe has been in the past decade and a half, speaks volumes.
Controlling information
In a way, that was the sentiment my wife expressed when, as though on auto-pilot, she instinctively wondered how “control of information” could be achieved in the midst of a multiplicity of media platforms.
But some countries with even more radio and TV stations than Ghana have been able to control information, using the legal instruments available to them, or enacting new ones for the purpose. Two case studies come to mind: Britain and the USA.
From afar, the British and the American media appear to be so free that you think milk will not melt in the mouths of their journalists.
But go closer, and you find a multiplicity of laws, conventions, and institutions impeaching on their freedom. Surprisingly, the media dutifully observe the laws and conventions and thus give their governments no cause to come after them.
And having so observed the laws for decades, and sometimes even centuries, it has become second nature of the media to default to the letter of the law without even thinking about it.
For example, in Britain there is something called “The Wolfe’s Law of Journalism” that says: “You cannot hope to bribe or twist, thank God, a British journalist. But, seeing what the man will do unbribed, there is no occasion to.”
Ernest Bevin (British foreign secretary, 1945-51) had an even more interesting spin on it: ‘Why bother to muzzle sheep?”, he once famously asked in the House of Commons during a debate on the media.
His interpretation of the role of the British media spoke volumes. By likening the media to sheep – obedient, tame, stupid even, unable to bite or bark, and thus not needing a muzzle – he was in effect putting paid to the lie behind the unbridled image of the media so beloved by textbook writers, liberals, human rights activists, and misinformed African journalists.
And Bevin was so right! The British media’s meticulous observance of the laws governing their industry is legendary! In March 2002, I personally counted some 50 disparate pieces of legislation governing the UK media, including one enacted in 1848, the Treason Felony Act, which threatens “anyone imagining or publishing anything which might lead to the downfall of the monarchy [to be] deported for the term of his or her natural life”.
No guardian angel
In December 2000, the British daily, The Guardian, published a special series of articles over several days advocating republicanism, in other words, the downfall of the British monarchy.
The series opened on December 6, 2000, with the generic headline: “A challenge to the crown: Now is the time for change”.
The editorial comment for that day, published on the front page for emphasis, was headlined: “Magic or not, let in the daylight.” Two subsidiary articles on the same front page were headlined: “Majority want to be citizens not subjects”, and “Law on succession to throne may be incompatible with Human Rights Act”.
The front page of that day gave the misleading impression that The Guardian was an extra courageous newspaper out to knock the monarchy off its pedestal – until you turned to page two. And the confession began in earnest.
The paper reported on Page 2 that though “the Treason Felony Act 1848 … threatens that anyone imagining or publishing anything
which might lead to the Queen’s downfall should be deported for life … today and over the next few days, [this] paper is running a number of articles advocating republicanism, despite … [the] outdated statute…”
And then came the real confession: “The paper’s editor, Alan Rusbridger,” The Guardian revealed, “wrote last week to the Attorney- General, Lord Williams of Mostyn, asking for an assurance that he will not be prosecuted, given that he has no intention of advocating overthrow of the monarchy by force.
“In his letter, [the editor] argued that the Treason Felony Act breaches Article 10 of the European Convention, the right to freedom of expression.
“He suggested the Attorney- General might ask the High Court to reinterpret the Treason Felony Act so that only calls to overthrow the monarchy by violence would be an offence. He offered the paper’s support in the application.”
Lord Williams might have laughed heartily on receipt of Rusbridger’s letter, for his reply was quite caustic: “I hope you understand that neither David Calvert-Smith [the Director of Public Prosecutions] nor I can give you an assurance regarding whether or not a prosecution or other action will be taken,” Lord Williams wrote. “You are asking me to take action which sanctions in advance conduct which may be criminal. You should take your own legal advice, then decide for yourself whether you will follow it.”
Lord Williams was writing in the year of our Lord 2000. His message was clear. The Treason Felony Act may be 153 years old (at the time), but you break it at your peril.
European convention
So The Guardian, as obedient to the law as all the other sections of the British media, had to wait until Britain had incorporated the European Human Rights Act into its own law in October 2000, before daring to publish its series in December 2000 advocating republicanism (or the downfall of the monarchy).
“The Human Rights Act,” The Guardian even added for good measure, “gives UK judges power for the first time to reinterpret statutes to make them compatible so far as possible with the European Convention.”
In effect, instead of going ahead to publish the series damn the consequences (a huge lesson for African journalists), The Guardian hid behind the protection afforded by the European Convention before publishing its series.
If it had published the articles before the UK had incorporated the European Human Rights Act into its law, the paper and its editor could have been strung up, under the Treason Felony Act 1848.
That was what the Attorney-General said in so many words. But in December 2000, the Director of Public Prosecutions, now knowing that the law was not on his side, remained silent as The Guardian went ahead with the subversive series.
In fact, The Guardian did not even wait for the Director of Public Prosecutions or the Attorney-General to strike first. Because the best defence is to attack, The Guardian took the fight to the two gentlemen by going to court on February 16, 2001, to challenge the Treason Felony Act.
On that day, the paper reported: “The Guardian will make legal history today when it launches a High Court challenge under the Human Rights Act to a 153-year-old law which threatens anyone calling in print for abolition of the monarchy with life imprisonment.
“The Guardian’s editor, Alan Rusbridger, and columnist Polly Toynbee will file a claim at the High Court in London today against the Attorney-General Lord Williams of Mostyn and the Director of Public Prosecutions, David Calvert-Smith.
“The case is the first to be brought purely under the Human Rights Act since it came into force last October … The claim alleges that the 1848 Treason Felony Act violates Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, which guarantees the right to free speech.
“Mr Rusbridger said: ‘The Treason Felony Act is one more piece of archaic legal nonsense surrounding the monarchy. People may say it’s meaningless but meaningless laws are bad laws. Like the Act of Settlement, it’s about time it was scrapped’.”
By 2000, the Act of Settlement 1701 remained, according to The Guardian, “the crucial cornerstone of the British Constitution, exercising an extraordinary hold over the monarchy and imposing limitations designed to tackle the imperatives of a political crisis at the dawn of the 18th century. But it is scarcely relevant to the 21st”
But despite concerns that the Act of Settlement “clashes with the European Human Rights Act” and thus should be expunged from the UK’s statute book, the law is still in force. And it still bans British MPs from debating “the conduct of the sovereign, the heir to the throne or other members of the royal family. An MP who raised the question of whether Britain might be better off as a republic could be sent to the Tower [of London],” The Guardian reported on December 6, 2000.
So what does all the above amount to? Simple. Countries that take themselves seriously impose limitations, through legal instruments and conventions, on the media. The law may be from 1848 or 1701 (as in Britain) but the media scrupulously observe them, or the law will come down on them like tons of bricks.
Next week, we shall see how Britain controls information and gets its media to fall in line.
Online Reporter