1. London2012.com

    A few weeks ago we finally launched the new version of London2012.com that I’ve been working on since starting my current job just over a year ago.

    This site replaces our old corporate site with a website designed to serve as a destination for results and information during the Games. At the moment it is looking pretty snazzy, but all of the snazziest stuff really kicks in once the Games get underway.

    I’ve been involved with this project since the requirement gathering phase, through multiple rounds of usability and accessibility testing, and a few months of content entry. Apart from the beautiful venue and sport pages, one of the things on the site I’m most proud of are our BSL and Easy Read ‘micro-sites’ that have had fantastic feedback from users. 

    This is a great start for the site and I’m super-excited to finally have it out of the door for other people to explore, but there’s plenty more to come, so watch this space…

  2. Paralympic sports finder

    This is a bit belated, but I just wanted to share a project I worked on towards the start of my time at London 2012. To coincide with the launch of Paralympic ticket sales we wanted to create an app that would allow people to explore sports that they may not know a lot about, and then invite their friends to attend the event with them.

    The app was hosted on London2012.com and utilised Facebook connect to allow sharing. It’s aim was to highlight the unique aspects of Paralympic sport as well as letting people figure out the best match for their interests with selection sliders.

    It was great to work on such a neat little product that involved working with a great development agency, as well as our marketing, sports and content teams.

    Time has flown by since then and it’s hard to believe this was less than a year ago. There’s definitely more to come soon…

  3. Last week was the ATP World Tour Finals at the O2 in London, an event that saw the top 8 players descend on London to close out the year. And for me, it was the perfect conclusion to a fairly extraordinary 2011.
This was the year that saw the two most dominant players in recent history usurped by a new power on an unprecedented winning streak. It saw Roger Federer fail to win a Slam for the first time since 2003. It saw Nadal come up short to Djokovic at Wimbledon and again at the US Open, sealing his fall from the number 1 spot, and visibly crushing his spirit. Andy Murray kept chipping away, having a fantastic year of finals whilst the biggest occasions continued to elude him.
Mostly though, it’s been hard to win this year, unless your name is Novak. Coming into the finals we thought we knew how the top 4 stood, but that was all to be turned on its head as we watched the week unfold.
Upon arriving on the first Sunday, what struck me was just how well the O2 works as a sport venue: It may not have the history of Wimbledon, but it doesn’t lack much else. Those who are keen and get there early can spend some time watching players warm up and practice on the three public courts. Over the course of the week I managed to catch Murray, Ferrer, Fish and Tipseravic, and, most excitingly, during one sneaky lunch break trip, spent an hour watching Tsonga hit a ball. I was smiling for days afterwards.
As great as the practice courts are, stepping inside the main hall makes you rethink everything you thought you knew about live sport. The O2 is all about drama and atmosphere. 17,000 fans sit in the darkened balconies, all eyes focused on the deep blue, floodlit court. The heart beat pulse that introduces the players. The smoke that heralds their entrance. This is a fantastic stage, for fantastic stories. The anticipation is almost unbearable. The noise that builds towards the end of a set is infectious.
Tennis is all drama. We want tight matches. We want rivalries. We want underdogs and we want great victories. Last week gave us all of that. Injuries and exhaustion managed to disrupt three of the top seeds, leaving the gateway wide open for the gallant outsiders.
Ferrer was terrier-like. Attacking and refusing to give up his grip on the trophy until it was wrenched from him. Berdych played with a concentration that enabled him to give Djokovic an early scare, and then come back from two tricky spots to win his next two matches.
The story for me though centres around the two players who played the first match of the tournament, and the last: Roger Federer and Jo-Wilfried Tsonga. Their stories have intertwined with surprising regularity throughout 2011 and so it seems fitting they formed the eventual final.
The story works for me because it is about the rise of a new star, and what could have been the fall of an old one. It’s about someone who is serene and graceful on court, versus someone who seems to run on pure emotion. Both stylish. Both ferocious competitiors.
Tsonga has had an incredible year since Queen’s: A rise up the rankings; two titles; a host of good slam appearances; and a public who are falling in love with him. Watching his round robin match against Nadal, I was blown away – it typified his best play. He was playing with courage, freedom and power – a high risk game which saw double faults followed by aces and as many unforced errors as unbelieveable winners. He has become far and away my favourite player to watch, even if my heart is in my mouth for most of the time.
When Jo can keep his enthusiasim at just the right level and gets on a roll he’s virtually unstoppable. It feels that on court the only thing stopping him winning even more is his own joy, energy and frustrations. That’s why his match against Berdych in the semi-finals was so fascinating. He was no longer flying round the court. He was contained. Focusing on returning and eliminating the errors. It worked, but felt less convincing than his play against Rafa.
That brings us to the one man that has stood in his way more than any other in 2011, Federer.  This has clearly frustrated Jo, who has spoken about it a few times over the past weeks. The frustration must only be heightened by their face off at Wimbledon. He knows he can beat him, but he needs Federer to make mistakes and he needs to limit his, both a challenge with their respective playing styles.
Their final proved this. Whilst Jo’s high risk strategy can work against opponents who make mistakes, against Roger Federer indoors, on a mission? Maybe sometimes, but not this week. Roger had a lot to prove. Jo outplayed him, or at least kept up, for games at a time (the first 6 most notably), but Roger’s determination and taste for making history, was not going to allow for any upset.
This was Roger’s 100th final; his 70th final win; and his chance to make history by becoming the first man to win 6 end of year tour finals. After a bad season (only by his own standards), you could see this was important to him. A short break before the indoor season set him up with the energy he needed, as did his decisive victory against Nadal earlier in the week.
So, it was with destiny in mind that Roger took on Jo for the 3rd weekend in a row. His scream of joy upon seizing a break in the 3rd set was the only thing that gave away how much it meant to him during the match. Afterwards, as he stood beneath a tonne of fluttering blue and white confetti and quietly wiped an eye it was clear. We all felt it. For in that moment, every piece of speculation that he had won his last major felt empty, even blasphemous. He had proven once again why we so often call him The Greatest.

    Last week was the ATP World Tour Finals at the O2 in London, an event that saw the top 8 players descend on London to close out the year. And for me, it was the perfect conclusion to a fairly extraordinary 2011.

    This was the year that saw the two most dominant players in recent history usurped by a new power on an unprecedented winning streak. It saw Roger Federer fail to win a Slam for the first time since 2003. It saw Nadal come up short to Djokovic at Wimbledon and again at the US Open, sealing his fall from the number 1 spot, and visibly crushing his spirit. Andy Murray kept chipping away, having a fantastic year of finals whilst the biggest occasions continued to elude him.

    Mostly though, it’s been hard to win this year, unless your name is Novak. Coming into the finals we thought we knew how the top 4 stood, but that was all to be turned on its head as we watched the week unfold.

    Upon arriving on the first Sunday, what struck me was just how well the O2 works as a sport venue: It may not have the history of Wimbledon, but it doesn’t lack much else. Those who are keen and get there early can spend some time watching players warm up and practice on the three public courts. Over the course of the week I managed to catch Murray, Ferrer, Fish and Tipseravic, and, most excitingly, during one sneaky lunch break trip, spent an hour watching Tsonga hit a ball. I was smiling for days afterwards.

    As great as the practice courts are, stepping inside the main hall makes you rethink everything you thought you knew about live sport. The O2 is all about drama and atmosphere. 17,000 fans sit in the darkened balconies, all eyes focused on the deep blue, floodlit court. The heart beat pulse that introduces the players. The smoke that heralds their entrance. This is a fantastic stage, for fantastic stories. The anticipation is almost unbearable. The noise that builds towards the end of a set is infectious.

    Tennis is all drama. We want tight matches. We want rivalries. We want underdogs and we want great victories. Last week gave us all of that. Injuries and exhaustion managed to disrupt three of the top seeds, leaving the gateway wide open for the gallant outsiders.

    Ferrer was terrier-like. Attacking and refusing to give up his grip on the trophy until it was wrenched from him. Berdych played with a concentration that enabled him to give Djokovic an early scare, and then come back from two tricky spots to win his next two matches.

    The story for me though centres around the two players who played the first match of the tournament, and the last: Roger Federer and Jo-Wilfried Tsonga. Their stories have intertwined with surprising regularity throughout 2011 and so it seems fitting they formed the eventual final.

    The story works for me because it is about the rise of a new star, and what could have been the fall of an old one. It’s about someone who is serene and graceful on court, versus someone who seems to run on pure emotion. Both stylish. Both ferocious competitiors.

    Tsonga has had an incredible year since Queen’s: A rise up the rankings; two titles; a host of good slam appearances; and a public who are falling in love with him. Watching his round robin match against Nadal, I was blown away – it typified his best play. He was playing with courage, freedom and power – a high risk game which saw double faults followed by aces and as many unforced errors as unbelieveable winners. He has become far and away my favourite player to watch, even if my heart is in my mouth for most of the time.

    When Jo can keep his enthusiasim at just the right level and gets on a roll he’s virtually unstoppable. It feels that on court the only thing stopping him winning even more is his own joy, energy and frustrations. That’s why his match against Berdych in the semi-finals was so fascinating. He was no longer flying round the court. He was contained. Focusing on returning and eliminating the errors. It worked, but felt less convincing than his play against Rafa.

    That brings us to the one man that has stood in his way more than any other in 2011, Federer.  This has clearly frustrated Jo, who has spoken about it a few times over the past weeks. The frustration must only be heightened by their face off at Wimbledon. He knows he can beat him, but he needs Federer to make mistakes and he needs to limit his, both a challenge with their respective playing styles.

    Their final proved this. Whilst Jo’s high risk strategy can work against opponents who make mistakes, against Roger Federer indoors, on a mission? Maybe sometimes, but not this week. Roger had a lot to prove. Jo outplayed him, or at least kept up, for games at a time (the first 6 most notably), but Roger’s determination and taste for making history, was not going to allow for any upset.

    This was Roger’s 100th final; his 70th final win; and his chance to make history by becoming the first man to win 6 end of year tour finals. After a bad season (only by his own standards), you could see this was important to him. A short break before the indoor season set him up with the energy he needed, as did his decisive victory against Nadal earlier in the week.

    So, it was with destiny in mind that Roger took on Jo for the 3rd weekend in a row. His scream of joy upon seizing a break in the 3rd set was the only thing that gave away how much it meant to him during the match. Afterwards, as he stood beneath a tonne of fluttering blue and white confetti and quietly wiped an eye it was clear. We all felt it. For in that moment, every piece of speculation that he had won his last major felt empty, even blasphemous. He had proven once again why we so often call him The Greatest.

    (Source: headsdownthumbsup.org)

  4. Troy Davis

    Standing vigil with Troy Davis on the night of his execution outside the US Embassy in London © Ben Smith

    The last 48 hours have been impossibly hard. At midnight on Wednesday I stood outside the US embassy, with hundreds of others - friends, ex-collegues, strangers - in silent, candlelit vigil as we believed Troy Anthony Davis was being executed in the state of Georgia.

    It was only after 10 sombre minutes that we quietly, sadly, started to talk again. Awaiting official news of his death we refreshed Twitter. We crowded round a few phones as Democracy Now’s live coverage from outside the prison started to stream in.

    Moments passed.

    And then cheers.

    Someone shouted ‘What’s happening!?

    ‘There’s been a stay!’, was the response.

    We looked around in disbelief, our knees buckled. We cheered, we laughed, we cried and we hugged. I struggled to stay composed. What had been a funeral, suddenly felt like a miracle. But it didn’t last long.

    We slowly all started to realise as we frantically looked for more news that what we had thought was the execution being called off, was in fact, just a temporary delay. We didn’t know how long it would last, what it meant, or why it had been granted. We didn’t know if there was anything we could do, whether Troy was in the execution chamber, or whether we’d be waiting minutes, hours or days for confirmation.

    We waited. And we waited.

    Slowly working out what had taken place. A voluntary delay whilst the Supreme Court considered a final appeal. We waited some more. Finally, at about 1.30am we all started to make our way home, hoping the rumours that it would last at least a few days were true.

    I collapsed into bed, the Democracy Now stream softly in the background. I was quickly asleep. At about ten to four I woke up. Bleary eyed, fuzzy eared, I tried to figure out what the reporter was saying, what the garbled, impenetrable Twitter search meant.

    Then it dawned on me. The appeal had failed.

    In the middle of the night it felt like Troy was out of options and was about to face the devestatingly unthinkable death he had been on a road towards for 20 years. The nausea I’d been feeling all day returned, stronger than ever. Then the dreaded announcements came.

    The execution is underway.

    Time of death 11:08.

    The world paused for a moment. I struggled to comprehend how the story had ended like this. From my first day at Amnesty UK, Troy’s case was ever present. His second execution was called off hours before it was due to go ahead - telling people was one of the first things I did at my still-new desk.

    Over the following 3 years I learnt a lot about Troy, his family, and the other people fighting for him. I learnt the ins and outs of his case, the torturous process of the US appeals system, and how his case was making history.

    I started to believe in his innocence, and my already deep rooted opposition to the death penalty became more ferocious.

    I heard his sister and his nephew speak and grew to realise they were two of the most courageous and dedicated human rights campaigners he could have hoped to have on his side.

    I was inspired by two incredible Amnesty campaigners too. Laura Moye in the US, and Kim Manning-Cooper, who I had the privilige of working alongside in our UK office. I will never forget the stories she told after visiting Troy on death row. Of how his prison cell was small enough that he could touch both walls at the same time, and how prisoners kept blades of grass, just to see something of the outside world.

    The passion of those closest to Troy and his campaign was infectious. We all felt it, we all lived it. That was brought into sharp reality on Wednesday night. It felt like we were a family waiting, greiving, fighting, worrying - together.

    The hours since then have been hard, but the one thing that makes the sheer injustice bearable, is that all of these people are continuing to speak out through their anger and sadness. Refusing to see this as a defeat. Continuing to fight for an end to the death penalty so that we never have to do this again, and that no more Troy’s have to face this inhumane practice.

    Gracious to the last, Troy himself said it best, just a few days before his death:

    The struggle for justice doesn’t end with me. This struggle is for all the Troy Davises who came before me and all the ones who will come after me.”

    You can send a message of solidarity to Troy’s family here.

    (And apologies to Ben Smith at Amnesty UK for using his photo, I figured he wouldn’t mind)

  5. It’s now just one year to go until the Olympics start and whilst I am busy working on the Games-time website, others in my team have been getting this awesome twitter visualisation ready to mark today’s milestone. Lovely work!

    It’s now just one year to go until the Olympics start and whilst I am busy working on the Games-time website, others in my team have been getting this awesome twitter visualisation ready to mark today’s milestone. Lovely work!

  6. The rise and rise of handmade
A couple of years ago, my best friend and I decided to start a craft night. Yes, exactly what it sounds like. One of those things where a bunch of people (in our case, exclusively girls) get together and learn to needle felt. Or draw. Or crochet. ‘Brownies for grown-ups’ was our favoured way of explaining it.
We ran a good few events. We’d take over the back room of a pub, fuelling ourselves with cocktails, and convincing nice people to come and teach us how to make awesome things out of some ends of yarn, or a block of lino. (A particular highlight was our life drawing session. It takes a brave man to de-robe in front of 20 slightly tipsy girls)
Although those craft nights have fallen by the wayside, we have been consistently overwhelmed by the continued appetite for what sometimes seemed such an archaic thing, and we are by no means the only ones. In London alone a whole community hosting similar events has emerged, catering for all budgets and ambitions.
Thinking about it now makes me wonder: What has fuelled this resurgence in crafting for the 20-somethings?
Maybe as recently as 5 years ago, many feared we were losing our traditional skills, those functional heirlooms passed down from generation to generation, yet we’re now facing a full-scale revival. Our homes are being filled with the unique and the handmade; craft markets are thriving.
I have my own theories. For a while, a feminist quest for equality meant we were adamant that embracing traditional pastimes may hold us back, there was a greater emphasis on erasing the differences between men and women, and often this meant losing the things that men didn’t take part in.  But now, our feminism is more sophisticated, and there’s a pride in our shared traditions. We’re embracing the skills our grandparents left us, which perhaps our parents’ generation missed out on.
A sense of nostalgia
This is, in part, a reactionary movement too. A reaction that is echoed in the deluge of photos apps, and archiving software that attempts to bring a sense or veneer of nostalgia to the fast paced digital world we now live in: The increasing popularity of vinyl; a desire for limited edition books; weekends deliberately spent offline; retro caravanning holidays.  They all point to a trend that’s still strengthening.
We are living in an ever more virtual world, where the things we buy are either mass-produced or amount to little more than data. Crafting and buying handmade is the antithesis of that. And it’s the process too: it’s a different challenge to that which most of us face in our day jobs.
Katie Marcus, web designer by day and crafter by night, confirms this, answering my question of what inspires her to craft, saying “having a job at a computer where nothing is actually tangible or physical. It’s probably more about the therapeutic process of making something with my hands for me, rather than the end result.”
And reflecting my notion of a continued tradition, my crafty partner-in-crime, Rebecca Hales, explains how her Nan taught her various crafts at a young age, that were later “pushed out of my head by other - seemingly more practical - things and now, with each craft project I start, I hope to regain a little bit of what was lost when she died.”
Emerging Communities
Yet the same technologies we are reacting against have been central to fuelling the change. Etsy has a lot to answer for. We are now, no matter where we live, able to connect with and buy from the most incredible DIY artists selling their wares, and are able to fill our houses with treasures we are sure no one else owns. We also know we’re not alone, but part of a new wave of handmade creativity being expressed online and in bars, cafes and living rooms around the world.
Talking to Jonty Wareing, one of the founders of Hackspace, I am reminded that advances in technology have also given rise to a new accessibility of information and ease of group creation online. We agree that starting our respective groups was really, pretty easy, in a way which wouldn’t have been possible even five years ago. YouTube and blogs are full of tutorials, and community sites make it easy to connect, allowing people to progress and learn outside of traditional structures, supporting and sharing between themselves.

And then there’s the ‘green thing’. Craft is also a movement against the disposable consumerism we have all grown up with. Recycle, reuse, re-imagine. We’re putting our waste to use, and choosing to use our money to fuel grassroots creativity rather than transnational corporations - proof there is room for independent businesses to flourish, even if it’s not on the high street as might once have been the case.
Expression of individuality
More than anything else, craft allows us to express ourselves and escape the homogenisation of consumerist culture, as fellow crafter Melanie Jones explains: “I like having things that are unique, so I’d rather make my own if I can. I buy handmade for similar reasons, I like having things that are different. I don’t follow fashion much and usually have quite specific ideas of what I want, handmade caters better for this and the products feel more special.”
And as Rebecca reminds me, crafting is actually sort of like magic: “It’s fun, disappointing, frustrating, challenging and satisfying to craft. There is a distinct feeling, when you’ve finished a project, that no-one else in the world has ever created that particular item (however lop-sided, misshapen or smudged) and no-one else ever will…”
So whilst craft is, as explained by Amy Carlton and Cinnamon Cooper in their 2003 Craftifesto, powerful, personal and political, it is perhaps their last point, that craft is possible, that is most significant now as communities emerge to teach, support and inspire everyone to have a go.
By Fiona McLaren 
Many thanks to Rebecca Hales, Lyndsey Seaborn, Melanie Jones, Katie Marcus, Jonty Wareing and David Singleton for talking to me about craft and sharing their thoughts.

    The rise and rise of handmade

    A couple of years ago, my best friend and I decided to start a craft night. Yes, exactly what it sounds like. One of those things where a bunch of people (in our case, exclusively girls) get together and learn to needle felt. Or draw. Or crochet. ‘Brownies for grown-ups’ was our favoured way of explaining it.

    We ran a good few events. We’d take over the back room of a pub, fuelling ourselves with cocktails, and convincing nice people to come and teach us how to make awesome things out of some ends of yarn, or a block of lino. (A particular highlight was our life drawing session. It takes a brave man to de-robe in front of 20 slightly tipsy girls)

    Although those craft nights have fallen by the wayside, we have been consistently overwhelmed by the continued appetite for what sometimes seemed such an archaic thing, and we are by no means the only ones. In London alone a whole community hosting similar events has emerged, catering for all budgets and ambitions.

    Thinking about it now makes me wonder: What has fuelled this resurgence in crafting for the 20-somethings?

    Maybe as recently as 5 years ago, many feared we were losing our traditional skills, those functional heirlooms passed down from generation to generation, yet we’re now facing a full-scale revival. Our homes are being filled with the unique and the handmade; craft markets are thriving.

    I have my own theories. For a while, a feminist quest for equality meant we were adamant that embracing traditional pastimes may hold us back, there was a greater emphasis on erasing the differences between men and women, and often this meant losing the things that men didn’t take part in.  But now, our feminism is more sophisticated, and there’s a pride in our shared traditions. We’re embracing the skills our grandparents left us, which perhaps our parents’ generation missed out on.

    A sense of nostalgia

    This is, in part, a reactionary movement too. A reaction that is echoed in the deluge of photos apps, and archiving software that attempts to bring a sense or veneer of nostalgia to the fast paced digital world we now live in: The increasing popularity of vinyl; a desire for limited edition books; weekends deliberately spent offline; retro caravanning holidays.  They all point to a trend that’s still strengthening.

    We are living in an ever more virtual world, where the things we buy are either mass-produced or amount to little more than data. Crafting and buying handmade is the antithesis of that. And it’s the process too: it’s a different challenge to that which most of us face in our day jobs.

    Katie Marcus, web designer by day and crafter by night, confirms this, answering my question of what inspires her to craft, saying “having a job at a computer where nothing is actually tangible or physical. It’s probably more about the therapeutic process of making something with my hands for me, rather than the end result.”

    And reflecting my notion of a continued tradition, my crafty partner-in-crime, Rebecca Hales, explains how her Nan taught her various crafts at a young age, that were later “pushed out of my head by other - seemingly more practical - things and now, with each craft project I start, I hope to regain a little bit of what was lost when she died.”

    Emerging Communities

    Yet the same technologies we are reacting against have been central to fuelling the change. Etsy has a lot to answer for. We are now, no matter where we live, able to connect with and buy from the most incredible DIY artists selling their wares, and are able to fill our houses with treasures we are sure no one else owns. We also know we’re not alone, but part of a new wave of handmade creativity being expressed online and in bars, cafes and living rooms around the world.

    Talking to Jonty Wareing, one of the founders of Hackspace, I am reminded that advances in technology have also given rise to a new accessibility of information and ease of group creation online. We agree that starting our respective groups was really, pretty easy, in a way which wouldn’t have been possible even five years ago. YouTube and blogs are full of tutorials, and community sites make it easy to connect, allowing people to progress and learn outside of traditional structures, supporting and sharing between themselves.

    Gluing at Finishing School

    And then there’s the ‘green thing’. Craft is also a movement against the disposable consumerism we have all grown up with. Recycle, reuse, re-imagine. We’re putting our waste to use, and choosing to use our money to fuel grassroots creativity rather than transnational corporations - proof there is room for independent businesses to flourish, even if it’s not on the high street as might once have been the case.

    Expression of individuality

    More than anything else, craft allows us to express ourselves and escape the homogenisation of consumerist culture, as fellow crafter Melanie Jones explains: “I like having things that are unique, so I’d rather make my own if I can. I buy handmade for similar reasons, I like having things that are different. I don’t follow fashion much and usually have quite specific ideas of what I want, handmade caters better for this and the products feel more special.”

    And as Rebecca reminds me, crafting is actually sort of like magic: “It’s fun, disappointing, frustrating, challenging and satisfying to craft. There is a distinct feeling, when you’ve finished a project, that no-one else in the world has ever created that particular item (however lop-sided, misshapen or smudged) and no-one else ever will…”

    So whilst craft is, as explained by Amy Carlton and Cinnamon Cooper in their 2003 Craftifesto, powerful, personal and political, it is perhaps their last point, that craft is possible, that is most significant now as communities emerge to teach, support and inspire everyone to have a go.

    By Fiona McLaren 

    Many thanks to Rebecca Hales, Lyndsey Seaborn, Melanie Jones, Katie Marcus, Jonty Wareing and David Singleton for talking to me about craft and sharing their thoughts.

  7. The UK, rape and the real reasons we should be angry →

    A longer-form article I wrote following a week of debate on the issue.

  8. Heads Down, Thumbs Up is a new, little, fledgling project I have started with a few good, opinionated friends. Hopefully it’ll grow wings soon.

    Heads Down, Thumbs Up is a new, little, fledgling project I have started with a few good, opinionated friends. Hopefully it’ll grow wings soon.

  9. But not every charity is happy to outsource the social media aspects of its campaigns. Amnesty International UK created its strategy in-house, and Fiona McLaren, online communities editor at the charity, is sceptical about the benefits of outsourcing such work. “I don’t think we’ll ever be in a position where we want an agency to be managing day-to-day comms with our supporters in social spaces,” she says. “For social media to work for us, it needs to be understood and accepted as part of our work across the organisation.

    — I just remembered this article I contributed to: How charities are getting bloggers on board - Third Sector

  10. Super-injunctions and why we’re missing the point

    I am no legal expert, and the seemingly shady, smoke and mirrors world, of super-injunctions is frankly baffling to a casual onlooker. That we don’t know how many there are, or who has taken one out, or what they’re protecting, can be alarming to those of us who believe strongly in the freedom of the press.

    The revealing of the Trafigura super-injunction in late 2009 showed us all that they’re a tool that can be used to prevent the free reporting of substantive issues that are, arguably, of public interest. However, this week’s debate on super- injunctions just seems to be an ugly distraction from the questions we should be asking.

    In my view, the private activities of celebrities should not require protection by the courts, not because the individuals do not deserve privacy, but because they are protecting what I consider to be non-stories. In short, they are mere gossip, that I do not believe should be a priority for any responsible media outlet.

    Hunting the holders of these down and ‘outing’ them seems to me a horrible distortion of why we should care about super-injunctions (not to mention that it has become something akin to a witch hunt).

    What worries me more than who has slept with who,  is the super-injunctions we don’t know about - and won’t find out about - that protect secrets we can only speculate on.

    I for one, would rather a company like Trafigura can not stop a paper reporting something as substantial as the dumping of toxic waste. It feels like the tip of the iceberg of wrong-doings that are being hidden from us. To think super-injunctions are just a cover for the affairs and sexual preferences of individuals is a dangerous thing.

    Of course, I may be worrying for nothing, all of the UK’s current super-injunctions may be, quite rightly, protecting things that need protecting - I do agree that there is an argument for them in certain circumstances - but we just don’t know, and that’s the problem.

    One thing’s for sure though: As our use of social media increases and our news consumption is increasingly globalised, the UK courts will lose the ability to both police and enforce super-injunctions, and then it turns to us and our press to ensure that individual privacy is protected, and that the most important stories are told in a free and fair way.

    Further reading: David Allen Green has published a far more knowledgeable article that makes similar points in the New Statesman that is worth a read too.