Politics: a cobbler to his last

By Richard North - March 12, 2023

Despite the left’s obsessive, single-minded support of the saintly Lineker’s attack on the Tory policy aimed at reining in people smugglers and their willing customers, the ensuing controversy has at least brought into high profile the tendency of BBC “slebs” to air their views on political issues and other matters unrelated to the reasons for their fame.

Although the list of guilty “slebs” is offered by the Observer, comprising an exercise of whataboutery – noting that none have been punished in the manner of the saintly Lineker – it does tell us that the BBC has for far too long tolerated the growth of the pernicious celebrity culture that is blighting our political discourse.

Although the BBC is by no means the only – or main – perpetrator of this unwholesome development, with the print media up to their elbows in sleb endorsements, the phenomenon has been vastly expanded by the emergence of social media, and in particular Twitter, which has become a quick and easy resort for lazy hacks in need of quotes to pad out their news reports and commentary.

For a long time in England, we had adopted and often used the Latin proverb, Ne sutor ultra crepidam, translated as: “Let the cobbler stick to his last”. This is taken to mean: let no one, that is, attempt to judge of matters which are far removed from his own skill and calling.

This adage, we are told originated from Apelles, the famous painter, of whom the Roman author Pliny wrote:

When his work was finished, he would expose it in the porch to the view of passers-by, hiding behind the picture to listen to their comments on its faults, because he thought the public a more strict critic than himself; and they say that he was criticised by a cobbler for painting one loop too few on the inner side of a pair of sandals. Next day, finding his criticism had been attended to, the man went proudly on to criticise the drawing of a leg; and Apelles looked out indignantly and told him when passing judgement to stick to his last.

These words not only became proverbial but are embedded in English law insofar as it affects expert testimony. In giving evidence, the expert must state clearly if an issue arises which is outside his area of expertise, whence any opinion he might offer has no greater value than that of an ordinary person.

Such caution, however, has been cast to the winds by the media collective, so much so that a football pundit can make a comment on government immigration policy, comparing views expressed as comparable to Nazi Germany, and be taken seriously enough for his comment – made on Twitter – to be widely publicised.

Had an eminent historian, specialist in the early Nazi period – as opposed to one of the populist lightweights – made the same point, it would be worthy of consideration, not that anyone would have done so. To make such comparisons was facile, ill-considered and plainly wrong and it is noteworthy that no serious academic has come out in support of Lineker.

That the BBC is now clearly in trouble is largely of its own making. Having failed to discipline its own staff in the past, and in small and large ways having promoted the celebrity culture for its own ends, its attempts to restrain a wayward football pundit look arbitrary and clumsy, and are easily portrayed as responding to government pressure.

But, in a very real sense, it is not only the BBC which is at fault. The media generally have been far too relaxed about the credentials of its commentators, allowing celebrities to abuse the platforms they have gained through their respective callings, to promote views for which they can claim no expertise.

Then, through the curse of Twitter and other social media outlets, celebrities can attract a greater following and more “street cred” than true experts in any given field and can thus dominate an issue where the experts find it hard to get a hearing.

From this, we also see the emergence of the all-purpose “media expert”, someone who may have acquired expertise in one field, but is often trotted out to opine on a wide range of subjects, far distant from their actual areas of expertise.

Such an approach debases true expertise and places the expert on the same plane as non-experts who find themselves having to compete with ill-informed opinion from those with a louder voice.

This does not in any way exempt experts from having to explain themselves clearly or justify their views. And they should be open to challenge. But greater discipline by experts in limiting their own views to their strict areas of expertise would do much to restore our waning faith in the breed.

I recall asking one of my PhD supervisors, eminent in his field, to agree to broadcast on a viral disease that was doing the rounds – whence he refused on the basis that he was a bacteriologist and not a virologist. That is the true nature of expertise.

In this context, this current controversy is not (or should not be) primarily about freedom of speech. It is more about individual responsibility and the need to avoid abusing public platforms. Nothing should stop Lineker airing his views on football, on which he is undoubtedly expert, but he should restrain himself when it comes to areas outside his own expertise.

Here, former secretary of state for culture, media and sport, John Whittingdale, is perfectly right. He also asserts that the row over Lineker’s tweets is not about the right to free speech.

Lineker, he says, is as entitled to his views as anyone else, even if some will have found his references to Nazi Germany deeply offensive. However, Whittingdale makes the different point that, by accepting extremely well-paid employment from the BBC, Lineker should have also accepted that this carries with it limitations on the exercise of that right and a requirement to stay out of political controversy.

Says Whittingdale, impartiality is one of the core principles of the BBC. It is written into the BBC’s mission and the maintenance of trust in the Corporation worldwide depends upon its reputation for factual accuracy and objectivity.

Obviously, he says, that must apply above all to its journalists and news presenters. Emily Maitlis, whose tweets as well as on air commentary were found to break impartiality rules, resigned and Martine Croxall was suspended.

The rules, he adds, do not just apply to news journalists and presenters. The BBC’s guidance on social media explicitly states that some employees who are not journalists still have an additional responsibility because of their profile on the BBC and that they should avoid taking sides on political controversies.

As their highest paid presenter, Whittingdale asserts, Lineker clearly falls into that category. It is now thirty years since he played for England, and it seems doubtful that anyone would be interested in his political views if he had not remained on the TV screens each week as the anchor of BBC Match of the Day.

And therein really is the point. Lineker has built his social media platform on the back off his fame as a football presenter. To use it for another, wholly unrelated and highly controversial purpose with political implications, is clearly an abuse. And, if he can’t control his own incontinence, the BBC should step in, which is exactly what it has done – even if this is too little, too late.

But this isn’t just about the slebs and the BBC (or the media in general). On military matters, people are sometimes quick to brand pundits who stray into this field as “armchair generals” – a popular recognition that some level of expertise is required to make credible comments on a very diverse and complex subject.

If we accept historical analogies from a professional football pundit, we have only ourselves to blame. We should expect the cobbler to stick to his last, and the footballer to his balls.