Imagine an email landing in your inbox on a quiet morning.
It’s from two major news organisations. It sets out, point by point, serious allegations they plan to publish about you. It invites you to respond, and it gives you a deadline.
From that moment, the decisions begin. How to respond, and whether to. What to say, and what to leave out. Whether to go to court, knowing that doing so may stop the story or draw even more attention to it. Each choice carries consequences, and the right one is rarely obvious. It’s about weighing the options carefully and choosing the one that does least harm.
An old Chinese proverb, rooted in the teachings of the philosopher Mozi more than two thousand years ago, puts it simply:
Liǎng hài xiāng quán qǔ qí qīng – When weighing two harms, choose the lesser.
That idea sits at the heart of one of the most closely watched media cases of the year.
The case
A well-known man, known in court only as “PPT”, is asking the High Court for a permanent injunction to stop ITN and the Guardian from publishing the results of their investigations into allegations about his conduct over several years. He denies the allegations.
His case is that the prospect of publication has led to a serious decline in his mental health, and that publishing would put his life at risk. The media organisations oppose the injunction, saying there is a strong public interest in their reporting.
The case is being heard by Mr Justice Nicklin, one of the most experienced media judges in the country, who has ordered that PPT must not be named. The trial took place at the end of October, and it is understood that the ruling is imminent. He is not deciding whether the allegations are true, but whether they can be published at all.
Two harms on the scales
PPT’s case rests on the European Convention on Human Rights, which UK courts apply through the Human Rights Act. Above all, he relies on Article 2, the right to life. The state can have a duty to act where it knows of a real and immediate risk to someone’s life.
On the other side is Article 10, freedom of expression: the right of the press to investigate and report, and the public’s right to know. The media organisations also told the court that many of the women who have come forward have suffered trauma and mental illness of their own.
So picture the scales. On one side sits a man who says publication could cost him his life. On the other sit women who say they were harmed, and who want their stories told. The law has to balance the competing interests. But at its heart, the question is Mozi’s: when both choices cause harm, which should give way?
The social media problem
Online, the case has taken on a life of its own. Speculation about PPT’s identity has spread across social media, and the judge has had to warn the public that naming him could amount to contempt of court.
That warning has limits. A UK court order cannot easily reach people posting from abroad, and it cannot erase rumours already in circulation. Some of those rumours will point at people with no connection to the case at all.
Going to court can also add to the problem. Trying to suppress information often makes people more curious about it, a pattern known as the Streisand effect. This case, reported widely here and abroad, shows how a legal bid for privacy can itself become the story. Anyone who takes this route also risks being seen as using the law to silence serious allegations, whatever the merits of their case.
An injunction may protect a name in print. It cannot control the conversation online.
Weighed in the balance
As far as we are aware, using a risk to life to stop journalism from being published at all is largely untested. So when Mr Justice Nicklin gives his decision, he will be answering more than one man’s application.
If he grants the injunction, people facing serious allegations may see a new route to stopping publication, and newsrooms may need to rethink how they approach subjects who may be vulnerable. Critics fear it could become a shield. Private Eye editor Ian Hislop told The Times it would “set a very dangerous precedent.” If he refuses, the ruling will confirm that even the gravest personal risk may not outweigh the public interest in serious journalism. Either way, an appeal may follow.
But a court can only decide what is published. It cannot decide what people believe. Whichever way the ruling goes, the reputational questions remain for everyone involved: how the outcome is received, how speculation is handled, and how they are seen in the months and years ahead.
In our experience, the legal outcome is rarely the end of a reputational story. More often, it is the start of the next chapter. If the injunction is refused and the allegations are published, the case will move from the court of law to the court of public opinion. Understanding where the law now draws the line will shape the advice we give, and the way our clients prepare. For anyone wondering how they would handle a moment like this, it is a conversation worth having early.
Mozi’s advice was to choose the lesser of two harms. This judgment will tell us where the law believes that lesser harm lies. Protecting a reputation means weighing what comes next.
Written by Shan Willenbrock, Director at Byfield