Proponents of the idea of the press as a ‘Fourth Estate’ have long championed the notion that democracy can only work when the media shines a light on the darkest corners of government (in 2017 the Washington Post went as far as to adopt it as a tagline: ‘Democracy Dies in Darkness’). In the 21st century discussions about the influence of the media on politics persist; critics point to the close relationship between media proprietors and political leaders (such as Rupert Murdoch and Margaret Thatcher, or Rupert Murdoch and Tony Blair) as a sign of the corruption of politics and the free press.

None of these debates are new. Nor are they simple. The relationship between politics, the press and the people is complicated. In many ways, the roots of the issue can be traced to the rise of Lord Northcliffe’s Daily Mail, arguably the first modern, truly popular, national (and, from 1944, transoceanic) newspaper. Eighty years on, the Daily Mail is one of the most recognisable newspapers in the world and is often accused of wielding its political power irresponsibly.

Taxing knowledge 

The early Victorian press was subject to a series of legal and economic restrictions known as the Taxes on Knowledge. These restrictions forced close connections to be formed between newspapers and political parties, rendering the newspapers little more than partisan pamphlets. In 1855 the abolition of the Taxes on Knowledge saw the birth of the modern press – but not immediately the birth of the popular press. Newspapers initially remained heavily subsidised by political parties and heavily saturated by political news.

The rise of ‘New Journalism’ in the 1870s challenged the political focus of the press. The idea was in some ways simple enough: New Journalism sought to build a large readership by appealing to the masses. The majority of readers tended, however, to be less interested in political news and far more interested in being entertained. A truly popular newspaper needed to capture the attention of its readers through sensational (though not necessarily scandalous) news stories. Readers in the late Victorian era were enthralled by crime, sport, romance, literature and gossip. Improvements in literacy (through initiatives such as the 1870 Education Act) over the course of the century meant that by the end of the Victorian era 97 per cent of the British public was literate. A reduction in working hours and an increase in leisure time and real wages helped pave the way for the rise of the popular press: there was an immense public appetite for engaging, readable stories. By 1896, Alfred Harmsworth (later Lord Northcliffe) saw an opportunity to satiate that hunger.

Journalistic alchemy 

The Daily Mail, launched by Harmsworth on 4 May 1896, directly challenged the close relationship between newspapers and political interests. The style of the paper was simple. Compared to the traditional broadsheets it focused more on illustrations and shorter paragraphs, and its layout and presentation was considered more attractive. Human interest stories were brought to the fore and readers were invited to engage with the paper directly through its letter columns. It was also cheap; marketed as a ‘penny newspaper for a halfpenny’, the Daily Mail was affordable for the British lower middle classes. The result was journalistic alchemy.

On its first day, the paper sold over 300,000 copies. By the end of 1902 its circulation would exceed the much coveted one million mark – the largest in the world. The success of the Daily Mail removed much of the press industry’s reliance on political parties. Its immense readership paved the way for other newspapers to move away from political subsidies and sell advertising space for significantly more money than before; thus popularity trumped prestige. This shift marked the birth of the popular press as defined today.

Harmsworth and the Daily Mail were not responsible for creating the social and economic trends, technologies and trajectories that led to its success. Harmsworth himself recognised that any one of his rivals could have successfully capitalised on recent innovations and trends to launch a paper like the Daily Mail before he did; it just so happened that they did not. Harmsworth was not only one of the earliest to recognise and capitalise on news trends, but he was also willing to take a risk on them. His ennoblement as Lord Northcliffe showed that it was risk with great personal reward.

It’s The Mail Wot Won It 

Over time, the amount of overt political news printed in the popular press demonstrably declined, but the political ambitions behind the headlines did not. While the rise of the Daily Mail ‘liberated’ newspapers from their formal affiliations with political parties, it did not free them from the political aspirations of their owners. Northcliffe and his newspaper quickly became the envy of Fleet Street as proprietors and editors sought to emulate their success. The envy increased significantly during the First World War as many believed the power and prestige of the first ‘press baron’ was so great that he was able to challenge the government (and win).

During the First World War, despite censorship and economic restrictions, the Daily Mail continued to publish regular content. It was not afraid to confront the government or even popular figures during a time of national crisis: in May 1915, the paper (alongside The Times, which had been acquired by Northcliffe in 1908) criticised Herbert Asquith’s coalition government and the remarkably popular Lord Kitchener over the shortage of ammunition on the front line, in an incident that came to be known as the ‘Shell Scandal’.

The Daily Mail’s coverage of the Shell Scandal was in some ways a double-edged sword. The story goes that copies of the paper were burned in the streets in an act of popular protest against what was viewed as unpatriotic criticism. But in other ways, both newspaper and proprietor were attempting to act in a more patriotic fashion than Asquith’s ‘business as usual’ approach. To attack the government and such a popular political figure was a major risk for Northcliffe – but it was one that paid off.

The criticism helped force major political changes that would eventually lead to Asquith’s downfall in favour of David Lloyd George. The Daily Mail’s influence (and by extension Northcliffe’s perceived influence) led Lloyd George to invite the press baron into his cabinet – a political offer in the hope of a reprieve from criticism. Although Northcliffe chose to serve as Director of Propaganda instead, the myth that the Daily Mail had the ability to shape the government – even to bring down a prime minister – inspired others. In reality, though, its influence on the government reshuffle was limited. While newspapers were alleged to have been responsible for the downfall of Asquith, he was toppled by intrigue within his own government. But the idea of a newspaper being able to hold a government to account – to challenge a political leader and win – was too good a story. For the first half of the 20th century, other key figures including Lord Northcliffe’s brother Harold Harmsworth (Lord Rothermere) and Max Aitken (later Lord Beaverbrook) would seek to replicate such political influence long after Northcliffe’s death in 1922.

Going global

In their efforts to emulate the Daily Mail and Northcliffe, newspapers and their owners have chased more and more readers in the pursuit of influence, profit and power. Most have failed; almost all have realised too late that it is what goes on behind the headlines that truly influences politics. But the myth and promise of that prestige has fundamentally shaped the modern media world today. 

Since Northcliffe’s death the Daily Mail has sought greater circulation and greater influence. The newspaper has had fleeting moments when it looked like it might reclaim some of its earlier clout. Becoming the first transoceanic newspaper, it took pride in its global status – yet this achievement was in some ways more imagined than real. In 1944, broadcasting was on the rise. In the postwar world, it was radio and television that would capture the attention and imagination of their increasingly global audiences. By the start of the 21st century, the internet would dominate the media landscape for news and entertainment. To some extent, this relationship is seen in the Daily Mail’s current position: since 2020 the paper’s circulation has dropped below a million. Its websites, however, have a reported global audience of over 191 million visitors a month.

More, more, more 

The Daily Mail had a profound impact on Fleet Street. For better and worse, it fundamentally shaped the role and influence of the British popular press during the 20th century. It also helped further the rise of entertainment over news. The paper’s biggest impact, however, was the perpetuation of a myth that has intoxicated press figures and politicians alike ever since: that by increasing their readership, the press can control politics. The press can help set the political agenda, it can frame political stories, but it cannot actually decide election results or the fates of political parties. Put another way: though people often assume other voters are influenced by the media, they almost never think they are influenced by it themselves. But the perceived influence of the Daily Mail and its owner in its earliest years paved the way for others to use entertaining content to wield political influence unelected, unchallenged and without accountability. The pursuit of that influence has come at the cost of countless reputations, leading to the rise of scandal over reliability.

Kristopher Lovell is Assistant Professor in History at the University of Coventry.