As has become - or perhaps has always been - the case with watershed scandals, the hacking by newspapers operated by News International has, like an imploding star which had previously configured its solar system, exerted a strong distorting influence on subsequent commentary and opinion, and in doing encumbered any attempt to gain a broader and more sober perspective.
The media itself has been complicit in attempts to spin a broader moral or theme from the debacle, and this has worryingly been focused on the state of journalism. The implicit - and often explicit - message is that the fourth estate is faced with a crisis, with its reputation under assault, its freedom being questioned, its methods and practitioners being tacitly impugned. But this narrative, which is increasing in currency and traction to the point of becoming axiomatic, would be to misrepresent the nature of this scandal entirely, and particularly the light it sheds on the British media.
Contrary to much instant analysis, the crisis does not expose a rotten core at the heart of journalism that requires redress through new legislation, or a new regulatory body to replace the Press Complaints Commission. Such action is unnecessary, and would be merely window dressing: you can put lipstick on a pig, but it still remains a pig. Rechristening the watchdog and repainting its kennel is a superficial and political stunt, not a substantive change.
Rather, what the crisis reveals is the danger of nepotism in large, publically-held corporations, particularly those fighting to lead the industry peloton. Rupert Murdoch is probably an honest man and executive, whatever one may think of his politics and Machiavellian values. He is true to his at times noxious brand, but it is highly unlikely that he would knowingly employ such blatantly illegal tactics. His sin is rather one of blindness as a corollary of his determination to keep the company in the family.
His son, James Murdoch, is clearly inadequate for the position of authority he has been gifted. Unable to trust himself to fashion complete thoughts of substance, he lent on the verbal crutch of managerial Americanese throughout the hearing at Portcullis House. The vacuity of his unresponsive answers, with their washed out and nasal delivery, stood in contrast to the pithy - if erratic - sound-bites that were being semaphored by his father, who came across as an old lighthouse, its flame flickering softly atop the rapidly eroding promontory that is News Corp. James Murdoch - call him Transatlantis - had already slipped, for all intents and purposes, beneath the swell, and his protestations were so much gargled water. Yet, despite the mess and his submarine status, he maintains his position in News Corp.
The senior Murdoch has failed, and continues to fail, to see that his son lacks the smarts, the charisma and the intuition to lead. And thus it has all begun to unravel. News Corp, long a salutary example of - for its competitors - a frustratingly inexorable logic, has been undone by a profoundly human error at its heart. So the cautionary tale of the hacking scandal can be boiled down to the danger of attempting to maintain the highest standards in a corporate environment while maintaining uncompromising positions founded in emotion. Blind nepotism is the fastest way to accrue structural weakness and compromise, which will lead inevitably to decline.
So what of journalism itself? What is being lost in the furore, drowned out by the naming, blaming and shaming, is that this scandal is as much about the power and necessity of investigative journalism, and the fourth estate more generally, as it is about structural dangers of nepotism in large, publically held corporations. The Guardian newspaper should be feted for its tenacious investigative work, which has exposed the corrupt endemic in a powerful organisation. The decline of the News of the World is shocking, but it is no bad thing for the integrity of the public discourse. Tabloids are inevitable in a democracy with a largely free press, but they are not necessary. Investigative journalism is, conversely, not inevitable, but overwhelmingly necessary.
We should thus celebrate this as a new high in 21st century journalism. Shining a light on the familiar is much more difficult then illuminating the other, and that the press can successfully police itself bodes well for the health of public life in the UK, despite all its perils and pitfalls. Reform is, then, not the answer. The answer, if we applaud the exposure of such pernicious and corrosive conduct, is for more people to take out a newspaper subscription.