The news that Paul Dacre, the former editor of The Daily Mail, has been dropped from a list of peers announced by the Government is outrageous. That is not only because the excuse apparently given by the House of Lords appointments commission – that he is still an “active journalist” – is a palpable nonsense when both, say, Charles Moore and Claire Fox have been given peerages in recent years. No, it is because Dacre is exactly the sort of man the upper House needs.
Against a revolving coterie of luvvies, prudes, and liberal snobs, he has consistently defended the right of newspapers to write without regulation, and to tell the establishment what it deserves to hear. His problem is that has so often manifested as washing celebrities’ dirty laundry in public, or offending pearl-clutching defenders of privileged and protected interests. For every soap sex scandal there was justified criticism of the courts – ‘Enemies of the People’ was blunt, but spoke for millions – or the quest for justice on the part of Stephen Lawrence.
As Charles Moore has pointed out, it is no surprise that this appointment has been spiked, since it coincides with the launch of a legal case alleging phone hacking under Dacre’s editorship, and the claim by Hacked Off that this should render his appointment invalid. The case has a motley crew of names attached to it, from the lovely Liz Hurley, to the tedious Elton John, to the pitiable Harry, Duke of Sussex. In short, the sorts of luvvies Dacre has enjoyed needling for so long.
Hacked Off, meanwhile, was the embodiment of the late Max Mosley’s wish that people in the public eye should be able to have Nazi-themed, bondage-based, sex romps without the public knowing about it. As much as I might disapprove of such a thing on a personal level, I’ll defend a man’s right to do something weird in bedroom with consenting adults. But if you are going to do something weird that you would rather others didn’t know about, then you’ve only yourself to blame if you get stick for it when it becomes public knowledge.
So the thought that Dacre would be rewarded for a career of doing this sort of thing on a huge scale terrifies and irritates those who wish he had left them alone. It shouldn’t. At the Mail, Dacre spoke for the values and views of millions of ordinary Britons – far more than the tedious croup of former ministers, donors, and think-tankers that currently sit in the Lords do. Dacre certainly wouldn’t put an android to sleep, even if it did look like something produced after watching Blade Runner on strong narcotics.
Making Dacre a peer would do more to get the Lords in touch with ordinary people than any reform scheme proposed by the usual suspects. For that reason, the Appointments Committee should say boo to both its own ruling, the vacuous celebs, and any other sneery dissenters. If Beefy Botham can be a peer, then so too can Dacre. Middle England demands it.