Gorgeous George does not deserve this

Mr George Galloway and his doings are now the subject of three separate inquiries. Mr Neil Hamilton, by contrast, was investigated only once. Mr Jonathan Aitken was not investigated at all after the then Secretary to the Cabinet had concluded, on the scantiest evidence, that there was not a stain on his Old Etonian tie. Mr Peter Mandelson was investigated twice. But then, there were two distinct matters to be looked into: the one, his loan from Mr Geoffrey Robinson, the other, his relationship, if any, with the Hinduja brothers, of whom there seem to be a confusingly large number.

All these inquiries were into questions of what might be described as finance, influence and trust. With investigations of this sort, I am always reminded of the senior policeman who made a point of not claiming his petrol allowance. Why, a colleague asked, did he refrain from adding this useful supplement to his income? He replied: because, if they decide to get you, they can always get you on the car mileage.

Two of the inquiries into Mr Galloway's conduct are broadly of this character. They both concern his supervision of the Iraq comforts-fund, the Mariam Appeal. One of them is being conducted by the Charity Commission, the other by the Parliamentary Commissioner for Standards. I should have thought this dual approach amounted to an unnecessary duplication of effort. But there we are.

The third inquiry is of different nature. Mr Galloway is being investigated by the Labour Party. The subject is not so much what he did as what he said. Particular offence seems to have been taken at his calling Mr Tony Blair and Mr George Bush "wolves". But, of course, he did not call them wolves at all. He said they were like wolves. He used a simile. Oddly, perhaps – for they are among the tools of our trade – both simile and metaphor tend to perplex journalists as much as they do politicians.

In the leading defamation case of Meacher v Trelford and Others, for instance, in which I was one of the others (we shall come to Mr Galloway's case later on), I had written that comparing the unsuccessful plaintiff Mr Michael Meacher with a former Labour MP, Mr Eric Moonman, was like settling the point of precedency between a louse and a flea. I was quoting Samuel Johnson. The BBC, however – as inaccurate then, in 1988, as it is today – reported that I had "called Mr Meacher a louse". Luckily the learned judge and the excellent jury were more sensible.

As it happens, I do not think it hideously insulting to be called a wolf. According to the Scriptures, he shall dwell with the lamb. He is a close relation to that breed of dog which does so much for humankind. In any case, he is a dumb creature, devoid of original sin. In this respect he differs both from Mr Bush and from Mr Blair. Mr Galloway could perfectly fairly have called them war criminals who deserved to be strung up, if one believed in capital punishment.

Perhaps greater offence has also been taken at Mr Galloway's call on our troops not to fight. In fact I do not remember this cry in so many words but am prepared to believe Mr David Triesman, the party's general secretary. But here again the Nuremberg argument applies: obedience to orders is no defence. In any event, some most distinguished people in wars down the centuries have urged our troops not to fight. In many cases posterity has judged them to be not only courageous but correct. One of the most exalted was Bertrand Russell in the First World War, who both went to jail as a result of his words and was deprived of his Fellowship of Trinity.

With Mr Galloway, the Labour Party is reverting to its bad old habits of the years after the last war. It was never the representatives of the Right who were punished or otherwise incommoded for deviationism but, always, those of the Left. The Left divided into, on the one hand, fellow-travellers or neo-Communists such as Konni Zilliacus and D N Pritt and, on the other, followers of Aneurin Bevan such as Mr Michael Foot and, of course, Bevan himself. Most of the dissentients were not suspended, as Mr Galloway has been, but had the Whip withdrawn; while others again were expelled from the party completely, as Mr Galloway may yet be, unless the forces of toleration – a declining band – assemble to fight for his cause.

Hanging over all this is Mr Galloway's libel action against the Telegraph newspapers. Mr Charles Moore, the editor of The Daily Telegraph, told us on Friday that the paper had received neither a writ from Mr Galloway nor even a solicitor's letter. It may be that he is alarmed by the cost – understandably so – or by the new-fangled defence of qualified privilege which the paper has been promising to try out.

About this defence there is some misunderstanding. Giving the leading opinion in the Albert Reynolds case, Lord Nicholls said that the law should not develop "political information" as a new category attracting qualified privilege. That would provide insufficient protection for individuals. However, freedom of speech for newspapers – a fairly novel concept for their Lordships to embrace – could be protected if the following were taken into account:

(i) The seriousness of the allegation: a point in Mr Galloway's favour. But this is immediately counterbalanced by the next point. (ii) The extent to which the information "is a matter for public concern". Clearly, if Mr Galloway did receive £375,000 from Saddam Hussein, it is a matter for concern. (iii) The source of the information. Here I should have thought this the best the Telegraph could obtain in the circumstances. (iv) The steps taken to verify the information. Presumably the paper did the best it could. (v) The status of the information: "the allegation may have already been the subject of an investigation which commands respect". This was not so here. (vi) The urgency of the matter. Here the war was going on, and Mr Galloway was playing a prominent non-combatant role in it. (vii) Whether comment was sought from the plaintiff. Mr Galloway was asked about the story but denied it. (viii) Whether the paper gave the gist of the plaintiff's side of the story. See previous criterion. (ix) The tone of the article. This was disrespectful – compounded by a hostile leader and several unfriendly news stories. (x) The circumstances of the publication.

Make of all that what you will. Lord Nicholls was clear that he was not reversing the burden of proof: it was still for the defendants to prove the truth of their allegations. But it looks as if one of the effects of his vague and overlapping defences in mitigation would none the less be to compel Mr Galloway to prove that he had received no cash from Saddam. If this is so, I can understand his reluctance to serve a writ.