A loyal Times reader, Blade read with interest film maker Edgar Wright’s tribute to the late Edward Woodward, which appeared on page 4 of the paper on Tuesday. He is concerned to note, however, that Wright is not happy about the appearance of the piece, which was apparently lifted without permission from his blog.
What are generally described as the ‘fair use’ provisions of our copyright legislation permit the use of an individual’s original material, provided that use is not ‘substantial’ and that credit is given. The lock, stock and now smoking barrel transcription of Wright’s words would seem to offend the principles of fair use.
This is an interesting one for the Guardian’s head of legal, the estimable Gill Phillips. Perhaps Wright will take up the cudgels on his own behalf (as he has already proved capable of doing) but it is just as likely that Ms Phillips will be penning a letter to the Times’ legal department. Blade suspects that it will be more courteous than most in such circumstances, given that Ms Phillips’ former employer was, er, the Times.
But beyond the legal niceties of this dispute (one which, it should be said, is far from unique on Fleet Street), Blade finds himself reflecting on the nature of fairness. What would be a fair solution, in all the circumstances? If a mistake was indeed made by the Times, it seems to Blade that the decent thing would be for the paper to make a donation to Woodward’s memorial. Wright himself says as much, suggesting that the Times might like to pass on the fee it would have paid had the tribute been commissioned to Woodward’s estate. Blade would go further and suggest that a courteous mea culpa, allied with a compensatory amount somewhat higher than is usually paid to commissioned writers, would not only be appropriate but could also result in some decent PR for the Times: erring, and yet proving able to do the right thing, can be powerfully (if initially unintentionally) beneficial.
Which brings us to another instance of fairness in the spotlight, namely Thierry Henry’s now-infamous handball against Ireland. Henry himself admits that he handled the ball, controlling it immediately before flicking it to William Gallas, who proceeded to score the goal which sundered Ireland’s World Cup qualifying hopes. The Irish football association has called for a replay, a request reportedly laughed at by its counterparts in France. The consensus among football pundits, not to mention emanations from football authorities, seems to be that replaying the game is impossible. To do so would set a dangerous precedent, one which would see every team aggrieved by a refereeing mistake demand that games are replayed. Thus while sympathy is proferred towards the Irish, they are told there’s no solution to their woes.
Blade disagrees. This is not an instance of a ‘what might have been’, as, for example, could have been the French team’s contention after the referee failed to award them a penalty which they thought was deserved, but of a ‘what definitely happened’. What definitely happened was that Henry handled the ball; his doing so very definitely led to a goal. And in a world which values fair play, what very definitely should happen is that the French team should, of its own volition, offer to replay the game.
Doing so would not set a precedent. It would be open to other teams similarly benefitting from a piece of cheating in the future to play deaf and insist that a result favourable to them stands. If France unilaterally offered a replay, it would be just that – a unilateral decision. But what a decision it would be! The PR upside accuring to France would be astonishing. The TV rights for the game would be worth a fortune. Its atmosphere would be beyond intense. And, by its end, the best team would have won.
What price, in contrast, France going to the World Cup having cheated their way there? The team would be reviled. Every other side would raise their game to beat them. Referees would, unconsciously, be influenced by events of some eight months ago. And no French player would ever risk a holiday in Ireland again.
And thus to Henry himself, a man of brilliant skills on the pitch and supreme PR ability off it. His reputation as a likeable, upstanding man could have been in tatters, had he not applied one of the first rules of crisis management. He apologised. Saying that “S*** happens” may not appease Irish fans or footballers but it will already have gone some way to ensuring that he continues to be associated with honesty rather than foul play. Thus, with ongoing sensible PR advice, the so-called ‘Hand of Frog’ will become an instinctual mistake rather than a pre-meditated bit of cheating.
Which still leaves Ireland out of the World Cup. Just as the Times will do the decent thing, so should the French FA. Sadly, the demise of the principles of fair play mean that such a hope is almost certainly destined to be in vain.
