Why Media Sensationalism Around the London Bridge Attack Could Be Fatal
And why you won’t find the perpetrator’s name or photo in this article
In November 2019, an armed knifeman inflicted the second terror-related attack on London Bridge in less than two-and-a-half years, killing two members of the public and wounding three others. The country was shocked. The UK’s terror threat level had been reduced to “substantial” only earlier this same month.
This morning, every major newspaper in the country contained photographs and details of the attack on their front pages. Soon after, the perpetrator’s name and image, courtesy of a police mugshot from his 2012 terror conviction, were published nationwide in the media. His name began trending on Twitter, and less than 36 hours after he was shot dead by police, a quick Google search of the militant’s name returned 64 million results. A name now universally-known across the world, sensationalist media has transformed a murderous criminal into, by all definitions, a celebrity. And all this has occurred legally, with no government restrictions, and no watchdog to assess the potentially fatal consequences of such lax regulation on the reporting of terrorist-related incidents.
The fundamental issue with the craze that the media creates around terror-related incidents — and indeed around other mass crimes also — is that they give the criminals and their organisations exactly what they seek: notoriety. Through this, the perpetrator effectively becomes martyrised to his supporters, and details not only of the criminal’s actions, but their reasons and beliefs too, become common knowledge amongst the public. This is where the phenomenon of media sensationalism-induced copycat crime becomes so dangerously prevalent: in seeing the baleful act of one criminal result in a sort of fame for the perpetrator, others will seek similar fame also, and thus will imitate the original act; in some cases, the severity of the contagion reaches such an extent that multiple fatal crimes result.
And this is why you won’t find the perpetrator’s name or photo anywhere in this article.
Generally, it is widely evident that media sensationalism has been a motivating factor in furthering copycat crime. This is often determined by the perpetrator(s) admitting this themselves, yet also by analysing the actions carried out in the crime and the preparation of the criminal(s), as well as through other scientific investigation. Several past studies have found that media reports of homicides appear to subsequently increase the incidence of similar events in the community, apparently due to ‘the coverage planting the seeds of ideation in at-risk individuals to commit similar acts,’ according to one 2015 research article. Despite this, it is not only ‘at-risk’ individuals that media sensationalism has inspired to commit crimes — it has been proven that even those who would not have otherwise become a criminal have been inspired to become so by stories in the media; it seems that American psychiatrist Loren Coleman had a point when naming copycat crime “the dirty little secret of the media.”
And yes, I see the counter-arguments. We are lucky to have such brilliant press freedoms in the United Kingdom, and the public has a right-to-know of those trying to undermine the safety and security of their nation in a bid to further their terrorist aims. Naturally, we should extensively and publicly condemn such heinous, heartless acts that wreak havoc on such innocent victims. But despite this, the question is presented of whether the trade-off of simply removing the name and picture of a criminal from media reports would be such a major breach to press freedoms, especially if this could potentially save hundreds of lives in its preventing of copycat events. When sensationalist reporting and a name-and-shame culture leads to sedition, and when restricting the names and photographs of criminals in the media has in the past conclusively led to a drop in crime contagion, isn’t it only in the public interest that the state acts paternalistically in implementing such measures? Indeed, reducing the notoriety of terrorists would deal them a much harsher, long-lasting blow than any public condemnation of terrorism ever has.
And don’t get me wrong: when a dangerous criminal is still at large and thus remains to pose a viable threat to society, then their name and image should, of course, be ubiquitous in the media — this will only help in their capture. But when a crime has been committed and the criminal has been successfully apprehended or dealt with otherwise, there is simply no need for their details to be anything less than confidential information; anything more poses a clear threat to public safety.
Regulations to reduce copycat crime could quite easily be implemented into the United Kingdom’s legal system, with very little sacrifice made at all in the realm of the quality of reports published. Anti-copycat crime campaign No Notoriety supports the provision of such reform, stating that ‘media-driven infamy’ can be eliminated with ‘little or no negative impact to society,’ with the only requirement being the media prioritising public safety. Their key guideline is as follows:
‘Limit the name to once per piece…never in the headlines and no photo above the fold. Refuse to broadcast/publish self-serving statements, photos, videos and/or manifestos made by the individual’
Such changes are deeply necessary within the United Kingdom, especially at a time where the media plays a larger role in our consumption of popular information than it ever has before. By reducing the far too often overlooked threat posed to civil society by media sensationalism and its knock-on effects, we could massively cut the risks of the copycat phenomenon in the UK. And thus by not doing so, we are doing a disservice to innocent, everyday citizens.
