Anyone who is not a moralist or kidding themselves will admit that a good piece of gossip is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Gossip exposes the false sanctimony of the powerful: it reveals the smug and self-righteous to be grubby, selfish and embarrassing – just like the rest of us. If the pronouncements of politicians make history, and the reporting of the media shapes that history’s official narrative, gossip runs along behind them, like a bratty younger sibling, filling in their omissions to tell a truer story. “You left out this part.” “That’s not what you told me.”
Maybe this is why media gossip about journalists and politicians carries such a frisson of transgressive delight: it breaks their monopoly on narrative authority. The people who have been appointed to tell us stories about our world, and about ourselves, finally get themselves subjected to the same treatment. It helps, too, to bust the bubble of a media industry that has long demanded more moral gravitas than it has really earned. These are the people, after all, who claim to be holding power to account. But how do they actually behave towards those in power?
