عرب وعالم

‏"الغارديان" تعترف بأفدح أخطاء مسيرتها... تغطية "وعد بلفور" ‏

تم النشر في 11 أيار 2021 | 00:00

نشرت الغارديان البريطانية يوم 7/5/2021 بمناسبة مرور مائتي عام على تأسيس الصحيفة ‏أفدحَ الأخطاء الصحفية التي ارتُكبت خلال مسيرتها في قرنين من الزمن‎!‎

واعتبرت الصحيفة أن تغطيتها لوعد بلفور عند صدوره عام 1917م كانت من أفدح أخطاء ‏الصحيفة، لأن هذا الوعد غيَّر العالم حينما سهَّل تأسيس، (وطن قومي لليهود في فلسطين) الذي ‏كان خطأ فادحا، لأنه منحاز للحركة الصهيونية‎.‎

وقالت الصحيفة: "إنَّ إسرائيل اليوم، ليست هي البلد الذي تنبّأت به صحيفة الغارديان، لقد ‏أخطأت الصحيفة خطأ فادحا"‏‎!‎

وكانت ردود المنظمات الصهيونية في بريطانيا غاضبة على هذه المراجعة التاريخية للصحيفة ‏التي سيكون لها آثارها المستقبلية، فقد أعلنت رئيسة الجاليات اليهودية، ماري زيال، وكذلك ‏السفارة الإسرائيلية في لندن، وجمعية مكافحة التمييز اليهودية عن غضبها على الصحيفة، لأنه ‏يقوِّض مشروعية دولة اليهود الوحيدة في العالم‎!‎



https://www.theguardian.com/media/2021/may/07/guardian-200-what-we-got-wrong-the-guardians-worst-errors-of-judgment-over-200-years


Randeep Ramesh

Fri 7 May 2021 07.00 BST

A daily newspaper cannot publish for 200 years without getting some ‎things wrong. This one has made its share of mistakes.‎

There will always be errors of news judgment given the nature of the ‎work. Tight deadlines meant the sinking of the Titanic was relegated to a ‎small spot on page 9 in 1912; errors of scientific understanding resulted ‎in a 1927 article that promoted the virtues of asbestos, and others in the ‎late 1970s that warned of a looming ice age.‎

But the most noticeable missteps stem not from the news pages but ‎from the editorial column. For it is here that readers find out what the ‎paper thinks about the great issues of the day. And it is here that ‎mistakes are inked most indelibly into history, whether they relate to ‎suffrage, reform or, most notably in recent years, the debate over Brexit.‎

To err is human. But making the wrong call is both inevitable and painful. ‎To see why the Guardian thinks the way it does, it is useful to start with ‎the interests it originally sought to advance. The Manchester Guardian ‎was born of moderate radicalism, and began life in 1821 as a ‎mouthpiece for male middle-class political reform.‎

In the years after the 1832 Reform Act, upwardly mobile men were ‎enfranchised and the paper steadily lost its radical edge. When ‎revolution convulsed Europe in the middle of the 19th century, the ‎Manchester Guardian had little sympathy for the insurrectionists. ‎‎“Nationalism was associated with democracy in 1848,” wrote David ‎Ayerst in his history of the newspaper, “and democracy was still suspect ‎in the Guardian circle.” The paper’s leader column declared support for ‎martial law in Ireland to quell political turbulence as famine stalked the ‎land. Its cold-hearted analysis was that Ireland could only feed itself if ‎freed from its dependence on a few crops, and that required capital that ‎would not be forthcoming without political stability.‎

Fear of the mob dominated this period of the Manchester Guardian’s ‎thinking. The paper advocated political reform – extending the franchise ‎and promoting secret ballots – but it wanted to limit voting to male ‎ratepayers. The call was for a property-based democracy, sound money ‎and rational government. The Manchester Guardian wanted no part in ‎the most widespread revolutionary wave in European history. It was also ‎a proudly imperialist paper. When the Indian mutiny broke out in 1857 – ‎a rebellion acknowledged as the greatest challenge to any European ‎power in the 19th century – the leader column on 26 September of that ‎year thundered with racism that England must retain “unfaltering ‎confidence in our right to rule over the native population by virtue of ‎inherent superiority”.‎

Victorian liberalism was beset by double standards: while Asians could ‎not be trusted with self-determination, Americans could be. More than ‎‎150 years ago the paper believed that the southern US states had the ‎right to secede. It suspected that a free Confederacy would prosper and ‎claimed it was as entitled to freedom as the Hungarians were when they ‎had broken away from Austria in 1849. The Guardian reasoned that the ‎breakup of the US would hasten the end of slavery, which it despised. ‎This view was shared by William Gladstone of the Liberal party, who ‎would be prime minister four times.‎

The paper’s support for the Confederacy led to a loathing of Abraham ‎Lincoln that today seems petty and shameful. For the Guardian of the ‎‎1860s, Lincoln was a fraud who treated emancipation of the slaves as ‎negotiable because it stood in the way of US unity. In 1862, reflecting on ‎his election the previous year, the paper said “it is impossible not to feel ‎that it was an evil day both for America and the world”. Three years later ‎an editorial on the president’s assassination scaled new heights of anti-‎Lincoln mania. “Of his rule we can never speak except as a series of acts ‎abhorrent to every true notion of constitutional right and human ‎liberty,” the paper wrote, before tactfully adding: “It is doubtless to be ‎regretted that he had not the opportunity of vindicating his good ‎intentions.”‎

Under the editorship of CP Scott, the paper moved from the right of the ‎Liberal party to the left, not so much following Gladstone as scouting ‎ahead of him. From the late 1880s the editorial line is more radical and ‎the paper’s politics feel more familiar. Scott supported the movement for ‎women’s suffrage, but was critical of any suffragette direct action. In his ‎leader he wrote: “The really ludicrous position is that Mr Lloyd George is ‎fighting to enfranchise 7 million women and the militants are smashing ‎unoffending people’s windows and breaking up benevolent societies’ ‎meetings in a desperate effort to prevent him.”‎

When Arthur Balfour, then Britain’s foreign secretary, promised 104 ‎years ago to help establish a national home for the Jewish people in ‎Palestine, his words changed the world. The Guardian of 1917 supported, ‎celebrated and could even be said to have helped facilitate the Balfour ‎declaration. Scott was a supporter of Zionism and this blinded him to ‎Palestinian rights. In 1917 he wrote a leader on the day the Balfour ‎declaration was announced, in which he dismissed any other claim to the ‎Holy Land, saying: “The existing Arab population of Palestine is small and ‎at a low stage of civilisation.” Whatever else can be said, Israel today is ‎not the country the Guardian foresaw or would have wanted.‎

Under Scott, the Manchester Guardian made its name in foreign affairs, ‎notably opposing the second Boer war against popular opinion. When ‎Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sophie, were shot dead in ‎Sarajevo in June 1914, Scott saw few signs that the continent would be ‎disturbed, let alone that a world war would follow. The Guardian leader ‎said: “It is not to be supposed that the death of the Archduke Francis ‎Ferdinand will have any immediate or salient effect on the politics of ‎Europe.”‎

The truth is that Scott, like all prognosticators, could only view the ‎historical process in the rear-view mirror. He couldn’t foretell the future. ‎The Manchester Guardian’s long-serving editor would have known that ‎previous predictions had been superseded in ways he could not have ‎foreseen. He understood that the growth of technology and society’s ‎increasing ability to dominate nature meant that societies that were ‎scientifically effective would dominate societies that were not. But no ‎one could know the different set of priorities later generations would ‎have.‎

Having been a strong supporter of the Liberal party in the 19th century, ‎the Manchester Guardian warmed to the Labour party in the 20th, while ‎never losing its Liberal connections. Scott spent much of the last three ‎decades of his life calling for Labour and the old Liberal party to ‎cooperate and save the country from Conservative domination, a cause ‎that is still very much alive today in the paper.‎

In 1945, a new editor, Alfred Powell Wadsworth, erred in declaring that ‎‎“the chances of Labour sweeping the country ... are pretty remote” and ‎called in an editorial for the “most fruitful coalition in these times: a ‎Liberal-Labour government”. The paper looked badly wrongfooted by the ‎Labour landslide.‎

Almost all the Guardian’s election leaders since the second world war ‎have endorsed either Labour or the Liberals, and sometimes both. The ‎exception came in 1951, when AP Wadsworth’s dislike of Labour’s health ‎minister, Aneurin Bevan, saw the paper back Churchill’s Tories.‎

Editors do make a difference: under Wadsworth the Manchester ‎Guardian took a surprisingly conservative view of the foundation of the ‎National Health Service. While supporting the changes as a “great step ‎forward”, the Guardian feared that the state providing welfare “risks an ‎increase in the proportion of the less gifted”. Alastair Hetherington, a ‎strait-laced military man who edited the Guardian in the swinging 60s, ‎earned the distinction of being in charge when the first “fuck” appeared ‎in a British or American newspaper after a jury in 1960 decided Lady ‎Chatterley’s Lover was not obscene. During the trial, Hetherington had ‎gone to great lengths to ensure that Guardian news reports did not print ‎swearwords used in open court, only for an opinion piece to do so.‎

From the early 70s, the Guardian’s leaders alighted on consumerism and ‎overpopulation as existential crises. A 1970 editorial wondered how, if ‎the world’s population doubled, a decent standard of living could be ‎maintained. Such Malthusian fears have not been realised. When the ‎facts change, the Guardian changes its mind. In 1982 the paper thought ‎that a windmill to generate electricity on “every British hilltop would be ‎an environmental disaster”. It would not say that today.‎

And then there is Europe. The postwar Guardian had been a reliably ‎European newspaper. The paper looked favourably on joining the ‎Common Market from the late 1950s. The Guardian was running, it felt, ‎with the tide of history: so much so that when the UK did not join the ‎euro in 2003, the leader column described it as “the biggest setback to ‎the pro-European cause for a generation”.‎

The UK’s place within the European club had been secured by an in/out ‎referendum in 1975 called by Harold Wilson, who wanted the electorate ‎to settle a question that divided the Labour party. The Guardian found ‎itself siding with a small pro-European band in Labour, as well as almost ‎all Tories and the Liberal party. On Thursday 5 June 1975, in a leader ‎headlined: “A vote for the next century”, the paper called for voters to ‎endorse Britain’s membership of the Common Market in that day’s ‎referendum to ensure the country would be “safer and more ‎prosperous”.‎

Since then, referendums have become, much to the paper’s displeasure, ‎an established part of our constitution, used as a way to stamp ‎democratic legitimacy on to controversial ideas and as a tool of party ‎management. The Guardian, aware of the historical significance of such ‎votes, had got into a habit of telling readers how they ought to cast their ‎ballot on the morning of the vote. On the day of referendums in 1998 ‎the leader column suggested voters in Northern Ireland back the Good ‎Friday Agreement and asked Londoners to back a mayoralty. In 2014, on ‎the day of the Scottish independence referendum, it urged Scots to stick ‎with the union.‎

No country had ever voted to leave the European Union before. The ‎Guardian had been clear in the run-up to 2016’s Brexit vote that the ‎electorate ought to vote to stay in. But on the morning of 23 June 2016, ‎the paper did not tell readers how it thought they should vote. Instead, ‎on a vote that would define the country’s role in the next century, the ‎leader said: “The UK will, gradually, put the tensions of the campaign ‎behind it, however painful they have been, and start instead to focus on ‎its future.”‎

History had other ideas. Perhaps the Guardian’s unwavering belief in the ‎strength of the EU’s case was a source of complacency. If so, it was not ‎the only paper to suffer such delusions. As Julie Firmstone of Leeds ‎University put it in 2016: “Most disappointingly, whilst the leave papers ‎pulled out all the stops on polling day, only the Mirror clearly called for a ‎vote to remain.”‎

While the Guardian leader column is now just one voice among many, it ‎still represents the only long-range institutional view. It represents not ‎any one person’s belief but an attempt to distil values that have evolved ‎across the centuries. The column tries to keep in mind past mistakes and ‎to proceed with humility. No one knows the verdicts history will hand ‎down on the opinions that appear obvious today.‎

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