At least 1.5 million people love it enough to buy it every day, making it second only to the Sun in the list of top selling newspapers. It is popular in small towns and private gyms, in waiting rooms at the dentist. You'll find it on the front-seat of SUVs driven by full-time moms, and in the front rooms of the white middle-aged middle class who take it with instant coffee and probably a biscuit. Unlike most British newspapers (including my own), it is profitable.
But among the metropolitan elite it is loathed with a fury. Because of the division it sows, the xenophobia it peddles (there are virtually never black faces in its pages, unless they are criminals or sports stars) the boundaries it pushes, the causes it espouses: Immigration is evil, social welfare is evil, working women are evil, Europe is evil, aid is evil, the BBC is evil ...
Now, Wikipedia has made up its mind. Editors at the online encyclopedia have decided that the newspaper has become so unreliable that it should not be used as a reference.
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The Daily Mail should not be used for determining notability, nor should it be used as a source in articles, a Wikipedia editor wrote. An edit filter should be put in place, going forward to warn editors attempting to use the Daily Mail as a reference.
The move is a startling vote of no confidence in a title that was founded in 1896. No major British newspaper has been thus censured. Mail editors are unlikely to be unduly worried. Wikipedia is hardly a source of huge traffic. The publication has long since signalled its disdain for the site with articles digging up Wikipedia's mistakes.
But the charge of being unreliable comes at a delicate time in the news business, where the fake news slur has been applied to far less illustrious titles than the Daily Mail, such as rogue websites created by teenagers in Macedonia.
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The truth is that the Daily Mail, like a lot of British newspapers, pushes the boundaries all the time, but does so in a way that both infuriates and sells papers. (It should be noted that Mail Online is a sister operation that publishes Daily Mail stories, but also a lot of its own salacious material, some of which is far more spurious than the paper edition's content).
A scan of recent editions throws up the following Daily Mail favorites. Queue here for UK's £1bn foreign aid cashpoint! it thundered in January, wilfully mischaracterising an Ethiopian project to improve life and prospects for girls.
Health tourism chaos draining the NHS it fumed days later, portraying immigrants as sponging off the state, clogging up busy hospitals. (Data shows differently: that immigrants pay more tax than they take out in benefits, that health services are overwhelmed because of government austerity and an ageing population, not because of the arrival of mostly young refugees.)
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It is renowned for science scare stories, big headlines booming about unproven research. Dementia risk rises if you live near a busy road, it intoned recently, taking nuanced science and turning it into terrifying nonsense.
But the bigger concern about the Mail is how politically powerful it has become. Its ability to shape opinion in so-called Middle England makes it the paper that British prime ministers are most worried about.
Its influence in the Brexit debate was critical, as it blithely threw about falsehoods such as the £350 million that Britain would supposedly claw back from the EU for healthcare if it retreated from Brussels, or the huge influx of Turks that would arrive in the UK if Britain stayed in the EU.
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On June 24, its apoplectic fury won the day. Take a Bow, Britain, the Mail enthused, after the Brexit vote was announced. It was the day when the quiet people of Britain rose up against an arrogant, out-of-touch political class and a contemptuous Brussels elite.
Since then, if anything, the newspaper has become more shrill, chillingly so when the judiciary ruled that parliament should have a say on Brexit.
Enemies of the People, the Mail declared, digging up details of the judges' private lives and questioning their right to defy the will of 17.4 million voters, without seeming to understand the vital role the judiciary plays in the separation of powers in a democracy.
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Perhaps the most worrying thing about the Mail is the way it radicalizes rather ordinary, stoical, fair-minded Brits. When people close to me started to read the paper, it was noticeable how angry they became about immigration, even though there is scarcely an immigrant anywhere near where they live; how often they referred to supposed EU idiocy when the truth was much more nuanced. How negative they quickly became about life in Britain and the people who live here.
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A bigger splash: the Mail’s print circulation might be in decline, but it still sells more copies than the Mirror and Express combined.
Mail Men: The Unauthorized Story of the Daily Mail – the Paper That Divided and Conquered Britain by Adrian Addison – review
, authorised or not. Its glory days, the days of its founder, Alfred Harmsworth, were long gone. Its days of Nazi-fawning shame, under Alfred’s brother Harold, the first Viscount Rothermere, lay buried in forgetfulness. And the paper itself – like any benefits from its unlikely marriage to the Liberal-supporting
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Desk editor, have to reveal about them? That “mere Vere” was a Buddhist billionaire, sat on the cross benches in the Lords, embraced Blair, loved the European Union – and gave his chosen supremo the greatest possible freedom to get on with the job: turning the
As for English himself? He was entertaining, exuberant, a Europhile, a Thatcher devotee, a bit tricky at times but adored by most of his staff. Tim Miles, one of his brightest young reporters, sums all that up. “You paid a lot of deference to English; he was the ‘supreme editor’.”
Nothing much worth the “unauthorised” tag here: a few scrapes and botched gambles amid investigative slag heaps: a ludicrous failure to find Martin Bormann. But success and warm memories most of the way. So it must apply, in spades, to the dominant editor of today: David English’s successor from 1992, Paul Dacre, master of the paper “that divided and conquered Britain”, in Addison’s terms.
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The unvarnished Dacre? That sounds like a selling point. And yet, even here, there’s a mix of respect as well as hostility on display. Dacre, it seems, swears a lot. The C-word rather than “fuck”. His staff talk mordantly of “Vagina Monologues”. He sits in his grand office through the day, holding conferences that terrify the unready. He doesn’t do much, if anything, online: bring your pencils and papers instead. He fiddles relentlessly with copy and headlines. He’s renowned as “the grim tweaker”. And he lives in his own cocoon of 18-hour work days. No man of the people. Indeed, he barely meets people he doesn’t employ.
Except that when you’ve registered all this – most courtesy of anonymous “Mailmen” past – there isn’t much more worth adding. “Ex-reporters and subs dish dirt on old boss shock: not many surprised.” And the various reminiscences, for that matter, emerge suitably contradictory. The young Dacre, a junior correspondent in New York, is congenitally shy. How he turns into the raging bull of Kensington isn’t explained.
Try facts rather than secondhand opinions then. Within 18 months after Paul Dacre had been moved across from the mothership to edit a struggling
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Men and women line up to sing his praises: “a very good editor… a much nicer man than English”. No wonder Rupert Murdoch came hiring (for the
) waving a chequebook. No wonder that, rather then see him go, English himself relinquished his Mail chair to woo Dacre back. And no wonder either that, within four years, Dacre’s
At which point, perhaps, it’s time for a few unauthorised thoughts. Paul Dacre – now reporting to a 4th Viscount – is still winning awards. Maybe
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Could it just possibly be that Dacre, still the most feted as well as most reviled print editor of his day, has a gift for delivering what millions of readers want – even from inside that cosy cocoon? Could it be that he knows what suits middle England better than Jeremy Corbyn, that he called the Brexit odds better than a supplicant Cameron?
There’s nil infallibility here of course. Dacre got Tony Blair’s triumph in 1997 dead wrong. His reverence for Gordon Brown remains a bizarre oddity. The wonder of a celebrity-stuffed MailOnline is said to need “monetisation” now, ie it needs to start making money. And,
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