Simon Singh is speaking at the Union at the invitation of the Invariants, Oxford’s maths society, and well he might, having popularised subjects as diverse as cryptology and Fermat’s Last Theorem in his books. Yet tonight he is here to talk about a very different book. Trick or Treatment: Alternative Medicine on Trial – ‘in retrospect,’ he muses, ‘the subtitle was a bit unfortunate’ – has sparked a fiery debate that has spread across the whole field of libel law. The world is watching: the Goodman Library is packed to the rafters, and a queue stretching halfway down St Michael’s Street has to be turned away.
Everything started with an article he wrote in The Guardian to accompany the book’s release in 2008. He took on the world of chiropractic, calling the claims of some chiropractors to be able to cure ailments ranging from asthma to ear infections ‘bogus’, and denouncing such practitioners as ‘fundamentalists.’ The British Chiropractic Association (BCA) was distinctly unamused, and threatened a libel writ. Although they were offered the chance to refute Singh’s article in the paper, the chiropractors declined and began an action that has dragged on for almost two years and sucked in £100,000 of Singh’s money.
He will not retreat. Everything about him seems geared for combat: his trademark squarish spike of hair is bristling, and he speaks with the electric energy of a young debater. This is no longer just about his own pride, though: he is a figurehead for Libel Reform, an alliance lobbying to make cases like Singh’s simpler and fairer for the defendants. Libel Reform – whose supporters include the likes of Stephen Fry and Carol Ann Duffy, alongside politicians from all the major parties – have picked out crippling problems with the British system for libel law.
‘For a start, libel law is unique in that the defendant is assumed guilty until proven innocent’
For a start, says Singh, libel law is unique in that the defendant is assumed guilty until proven innocent. In his case the judge has ruled that his article called the BCA dishonest – ‘they’re incompetent,’ he says, before conceding, ‘they don’t know what they’re doing, but they’re not dishonest’ – and he is on the back foot from the first ball. Libel action in the UK is so easy for the plaintiff that we are attracting what Singh calls ‘libel tourists’; foreigners who wish to sue foreigners and do so in London’s courts. ‘London has become the libel capital of the world.’ Worse still is the cost: he shows us a graph with a British spike almost as striking as his hair. The average case costs two million pounds, about a hundred and forty times the European average. This is a price only the richest can afford, and so principles are in danger of becoming a luxury. For Singh and Libel Reform, this is a struggle for freedom of speech.
‘There is a huge amount of misinformation, disinformation about alternative medicine…there are bizarre claims being made’
Just how rude about alternative medicine is he? I have brought along a bottle of tincture of St John’s Wort acquired at a high-street chemist. It smells like Calpol, costs £5.99 for 50ml and undertakes to lift my mood. I was hoping that Singh would say something offensive about it, but he’s too reasonable: ‘it might work, but be careful of side effects such as reducing the effect of the birth control pill.’ ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ This is not clear from the bottle, though, and this is what gets to Singh. ‘There is a huge amount of misinformation, disinformation about alternative medicine…there are bizarre claims being made.’ One of his colleagues was sued for libel after questioning whether a vitamin pill could really cure HIV, and spent over half a million pounds in legal fees.
‘People say it’s natural, so it must be safe. Arsenic is natural, cobra poison is natural, and they’re not safe. It’s been around for thousands of years so it must be safe? So has blood-letting’
Singh is forthright about the failings of the industry: ‘people say it’s natural, so it must be safe. Arsenic is natural, cobra poison is natural, and they’re not safe. It’s been around for thousands of years so it must be safe? So has blood-letting.’ He looks again at my bottle of stardust. ‘There is some evidence that some herbal medicines are effective, but they’re complex cocktails of chemicals. There are serious side-effects.’ He believes he is presenting these scientific facts about the efficacy of these products for the good of the consumers, and that the suppression of such statements is an infringement of his basic freedom of speech. ‘I’m being sued for libel for writing for the public’s benefit.’
‘If I lose this case it will be the worst thing I have ever done’
There is, of course, a flipside to Libel Reform’s proposals. The word ‘democratisation’ has a comforting ring to it, but an inevitable consequence of opening up libel cases to the public is that it will be easier to prosecute as well as to defend. In the dog-eat-dog world of student journalism, this could mean that writers have to walk on eggshells to avoid provoking lawsuits every time they put pen to paper. Every Union hack could threaten to call in his lawyer at even the faintest insinuation from Auntie Evelyn. Singh freely admits that his lobby could result in a ‘litigation society’ like America’s, but believes that people in Britain are ‘basically reasonable’ and that freedom of speech is worth the risk.
The stakes are high. While only four libel cases take place each year, hundreds of threats are issued, and this leads to a ‘chilling effect’ as journalists become more timid about writing things they could end up having to retract later. If he wins, Singh thinks, this could be a great step towards the democratisation of libel law. If he fails, he runs the risk of setting a lethal precedent for others like him. ‘If I lose this case it will be the worst thing I have ever done.’
If you would like to support Simon Singh and his campaign, you can sign up at www.libelreform.org/sign
Guest Columnist: Jancis Robinson
Oxford is responsible for how I have spent my working life. I was one of the first three undergraduates to embark on the three-year Maths & Philosophy course in the supposedly rabble-rousing year of 1968 (a very small rabble was roused in sleepy Oxford). By 1970 I had a boyfriend with a particularly generous father. As a result, I was treated to many a superior meal and indeed my first journalistic billet was as restaurant correspondent of Isis.
As with so many people who end up devoting their lives to wine, it was a glass of red burgundy that made me realise how wonderful it could be. In fact more than a glass, a shared bottle of Chambolle-Musigny, Les Amoureuses 1959; a wine that would be far too expensive for me ever to order in a restaurant nowadays.
‘It was heady and sensual on the one hand but on the other I could tell that there was something rewardingly cerebral about it too’
One sniff was enough to show me just how very different this liquid was from student plonk. It was heady and sensual on the one hand but on the other I could tell that there was something rewardingly cerebral about it too. This single liquid was expressing history, geography, psychology, economics – and maybe even maths and philosophy.
I was especially lucky at St Anne’s to know Alison Forbes, who was in the then very unusual position of having been brought up with wine. Her father was a member of The Wine Society, and had encouraged her to assess wine in an intellectual way. She would buy two half bottles of wines that were similar but different and show me how they varied.
I even remember standing in front of Oxford wine merchant G. T. Jones in the High Street (do people still call it ‘The High’?) chanting the bottle colour mantra ‘green for Mosel, brown for hock’.
‘The subjects of wine and food were viewed as irredeemably frivolous by undergraduates of the early 1970s’
I did not get up from the table at the Rose Revived resolved to become a wine writer. The subjects of wine and food were viewed as irredeemably frivolous by undergraduates of the early 1970s. It would have been seen as a waste of my Oxford education to have pursued a career in either of them, however much I wished to. I frittered away three years organising holidays because I liked travel, and then, as was the prevailing fashion, dropped out.
I then spent a year in Provence, and came back resolved to look for a job in either food or wine. In December 1975 was lucky enough to be taken on as assistant editor of a wine trade magazine.
At the interview, the publisher had told me they had had many applicants for the job. ‘Either we have to take on a wine expert and teach them how to write,’ he explained, ‘or we get a trained journalist and have to teach them all about wine. You of course are neither of these things. But nevertheless you’re the favourite for the job.’ I tried not to look anything like as surprised as I was.
I immediately embarked on wine courses that would eventually culminate in my becoming the first-ever non-trade Master of Wine. After I’d been there a year, I asked the publisher why he had chosen me. Was it my glorious career on Isis? My temporary job with the Good Food Guide? My year in France? None of the above. Was it, I asked hesitantly, the fact that I had worked temporarily for a London wine merchant? (Technically true but in fact I was just a barmaid in a City wine bar they owned.) No it wasn’t. Apparently what had clinched it was that I had been in charge of the skiing side of Thomson Holidays and they thought that I was obviously such a good organiser that I would organise myself to learn about wine.
If he had thought during the interview to ask me whether I could type, my life would have been very different.
Jancis is offering readers of Cherwell a special discount on a year’s subscription to Purple pages, the meatiest bit of www.JancisRobinson.com. Usual price is £69 but those who enter the promotional code STU2210 at https://www.jancisrobinson.com/static_pages/join will get 12 months’ unlimited access to ‘the wine website worth paying for’, according to the Los Angeles Times for just £49. But there is much to explore on the free pages too.