The Observer view on George Osborne as editor of the Evening Standard
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Version 0 of 1. Being “editor” of the Daily This, Evening That or Weekly Whatever is a most fuzzily flexible concept: one quite unlike George Osborne’s old deficit reduction targets. Of course, CP Scott (blissfully reincarnated as “CP Snow” on the Radio 4 Today programme on Saturday) managed to remain a Liberal MP and editor of the Manchester Guardian for 11 years. But 1906 is an eternity ago in political (and newspaper) history. If you want more relevant precursors think, perhaps, of Iain Macleod editing the Spectator before going on to become chancellor of the exchequer or RHS Crossman running the New Statesman – both of them, as with Boris Johnson at the Spectator years later, keeping Westminster seats warm at the same time. It is, on examination, who an editor is and what he or she has been hired for that matters most. Lord Deedes, once the Tories’ cabinet minister for spin, could be editor of the Daily Telegraph and occasional speechwriter for Margaret Thatcher at the same time because his editing remit didn’t really stretch beyond the editorial pages. A hard-edged news professional called Peter Eastwood got the newspaper out. And that division between opinion and the rest is quite standard across swaths of the western press. Marty Baron at the Washington Post or Dean Baquet at the New York Times may seem like top editors at their papers: but their hegemony ends where viewspapering begins. If that’s the kind of constricted perch that Osborne is taking over four mornings a week, then much of the alleged outrage (from Tatton constituents and the editor of the Daily Mail) seems too much fuss about nothing. Evening Standard leaders don’t thunder. Standard opinion pieces move few votes and make few waves. If Osborne wants more salience – buoyed by the natural publicity his half or maybe one-fifth job, attracts – then his task isn’t quite so daunting. Nobody, after all, is asking him to morph into a more hirsute Paul Dacre for the duration. The young Evgeny Lebedev, master of the Standard revels, may thus be tolerably satisfied. His remaining print newspaper needs a boost, especially after the penny-pinched decision to cut sub-editorial shifts in two. His Russian experience probably sees little wrong with the systemic interweaving of politics and journalism. And the Standard – given away free very successfully these days – isn’t particularly vulnerable to costly editorial blunders. But there are difficulties here, of perception as well as practice. Osborne may not be quite taking on the burdens his enemies insist. In effect, he may be no more than a hired columnist with added majesty, able to tell Theresa May and the battalions of Brexit where to get off with seeming authority. But, still, “editor” sounds like a proper job, demanding a proper salary – and hot and cold chauffeurs ferrying him door to door. He won’t look like a man of the people when and if Brexit turns sour. He’ll look too snug and smug, enjoying too many good days at BlackRock tables and Standard lunches. He’ll walk through minefields of conflicting interests that his critics will exploit with glee. The spectre for Osborne at this particular feast is Tony Blair, who makes one of the best Remain cases going but preaches to the unconvertible because what the former prime minister did after he left No 10 fatally soiled his image. He has great arguments but built the most rickety of bully pulpits. And Osborne’s own new pulpit makes him in turn hopelessly vulnerable. There are so many potential opportunities to shoot him down: the money accrued, the tangle of ethical interests, the stretch of serving his Tatton constituents from an editorial office in Kensington. Perhaps Osborne wants to take the fight to his baleful Leave foes. Perhaps he wants to be able to dish it out to an audience far beyond Westminster. But he has small chance of being able to stay on the front foot when rough trade starts – even if the economy founders through long months of withdrawal. Osborne knows next to nothing about active journalism. His desultory debut there, a Times shopping column about the price of Christmas goodies in 1993, wins no awards. His accretion of the “editor” tag on such scanty grounds will win him few friends in the pro press pack. Taking the job thus may have looked like a great wheeze. But then we know that many whizzy things – including Osborne referendum arguments – have a habit of falling apart. |