'Muzzler' politicians turn on German media

UNLIKE in Britain, the sex lives of German politicians do not monopolise the headlines. Any public reference to their extramarital activities is more likely to cause the newspaper editor to resign - as happened once last year - than the politician concerned.

Instead, the German media concentrate on stories of corruption and nepotism, great and small. Leading magazines vie with each other to amass the most impressive political scalp collection. This week's Stern magazine even carries an editorial boasting of how many politicians it has forced out in the past two years.

Now, though, it seems some politicians have had enough. Laws are being toughened to reduce the impertinence of the Fourth Estate. And police action against journalists has become almost routine.

One subject of journalistic delving has been Oskar Lafontaine, deputy leader of the opposition Social Democrats and prime minister of the western state of Saarland.

He was accused by Der Spiegel magazine, chief destroyer of political reputations, in connection with 'the red-light affair' - a complex tale hinging on Mr Lafontaine's past acquaintance with some apparently dubious characters in the city of Saarbrucken.

Mr Lafontaine, a man of legendary resilience, complained of 'swinish journalism', but appeared to be almost unscathed in terms of local support. Indeed, he may have gained a sweet revenge. He has introduced a controversial new regional press law, which will make it much more difficult to publish exposes.

Federal German press law already includes the right to reply. But the Saarland law goes much further. The reply must be given the same prominence as the original report, and crucially, the newspaper is, in effect, prohibited from answering back. Its response must not appear on the same page as the complaint - and it may not comment on what it has been forced to publish.

Der Spiegel angrily summed up the new status quo: 'Last word for liars.'

Advocates of the Lex Lafontaine, as it is known, say the changes merely redress the balance in favour of the individual. The journalists' association drily noted, however, that 'it cannot entirely be excluded' that 'very personal media experiences of individual regional politicians' had given impetus to the law. Such personal experiences were, the organisation's chairman suggested, 'not a good guide' for changing laws.

Many German people acknowledge that the power of the press is often abused. Libel laws in Germany are less stringent than in Britain: indirect allegations are frequently made that in Britain would be permissible only with absolute proof. But, despite the admitted weaknesses in the system, publishers have worried aloud that the media will collectively be punished for 'the wrongdoings of a few black sheep'. The worry is all the greater because Mr Lafontaine, who was Chancellor Helmut Kohl's challenger in the 1990 election, is not alone in seeking to keep journalists on a tighter rein. Recent proposals from the ruling Christian Democrats (CDU) have suggested a nationwide toughening of rules so that an editorial gloss on a published complaint would be 'legally forbidden'.

Unsurprisingly, hefty criticism has come from the media rottweilers, including Der Spiegel and its rivals, which pride themselves on drawing political blood. But more cautious newspapers have also expressed concern. The Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung asked: 'Are the parties coming together in a muzzlers' coalition?' Die Zeit noted the unusual alliance between Mr Lafontaine and Mr Kohl: 'The Saar's Napoleon and the black (Christian Democrat) giant in Bonn make common cause, as long as they can punish the press. Neither of them likes scribblers.'

The junior coalition partners in the government, the Free Democrats (FDP), have expressed concern about the proposals (despite having had their share of forced resignations in recent years). But the FDP is electorally weak, and its voice is scarcely heard.

The Lafontaine law and the CDU's apparent readiness to head in the same direction is just one aspect of the newly harshened media climate. In past decades, freedom of the press has been cherished. But in recent months a spate of punitive actions have occurred across the country.

Police have searched television studios, newspaper offices and journalists' apartments in an attempt to discover sources for published stories that have angered the authorities.

Some incidents seem more ludicrous than sinister. Last month, police turned up at 5.45am to search the Munich apartment of Claire Reindl, a photographer with the local evening paper. The subversive material they were looking for was Ms Reindl's photographs of a demonstration in December 1993, where anti-fur protesters wore no clothes and paraded the slogan 'Better naked than wearing furs'.

The police explained: 'By mistake, we weren't able to take the photos ourselves.'