FOR THIRTY-FIVE years author David Irving has kept a private diary. It has proven useful in countless actions. For the information of his many supporters he publishes an edited text in his irregular newsletter ACTION REPORT.

 

 

 

ecember 1998
London

 

These December days it is dark already at 3.30 p.m. Complete copying three sets of documents for Tuesday's hearing. Three hours' work. At 3:01 a.m. I phone H. The cancer has spread to his shoulder blades, but he's in no pain.

Work until 5:05 a.m., but lie awake until seven worrying about about today's hearing. Awake again from nine a.m.

Bus to the High Court at one p.m., and the hearing begins at two. My two summonses (asking that Deborah Lipstadt verify her discovery-lists by affidavit) are earlier than that served by her lawyer Mishcon de Reya's Anthony Julius (demanding the Irving Diaries); I let Julius open the batting.

Master Trench observes that Davenport Lyons, acting for the other defendant Penguin Books, have not appeared today -- they appear content to let Mishcon do the work.

Julius smirks that this is so; he implies that they do well to leave matters in his hands.

All parties have reached agreement on my providing all my personal diaries for inspection, says Julius, except that I am now demanding a guarantee in the amount of £50,000 to ensure that Prof. Lipstadt does not make illegal use of them.

The judge takes my point, namely that with Lipstadt domiciled in the USA it will not be possible (for First Amendment reasons) to enforce any judgment or sanction a British Court may impose in the event of a violation (unless she should set foot in Britain subsequently).

My own summons concerns my insistence that Prof. Lipstadt be required to verify her two lists of documents by swearing an affidavit.

I remind the Court that she has required me to serve a new list and verify by affidavit, to which I readily agreed, although the task of "discovery" has inflicted a colossal two-thousand man-hour task on me and my staff since August, involving the re-examination of my entire collected files of thirty-five years. But it is an obligation under the rules which I have most punctiliously discharged.

Her own discovery has been wanting. I take the Master through a file of seventy pages of letters and lists, which establish that very early on I identified a certain document, No. 500 in her list, as being of significance; and that I repeatedly requested

(a) that this document be properly identified to me, with its attendant papers -- it is a lengthy report clearly generated by a foreign agency; and

(b) that I be provided with a copy of this and other items.

Not until Sept. 29, after I served a Summons, was this document eventually provided.

I also advise the Master that in March I requested under Order 24 that Prof. Lipstadt produce her correspondence with certain named agencies and entities in the United States, Canada, London, and Israel, and that Mishcon de Reya studiously ignored this request for six months -- and that it was only after I served a Summons that, three or four days later, her lawyers provided a very comprehensive list of these documents, which seemed to suggest that these very documents were on their premises all the time.

Taking the Master through this new list and some samples of the documents thus obtained, I say that there can not have been the slightest doubt in Mishcon's mind as to the discoverable nature of these documents, yet they have "looked at the wall and whistled" for six months. Certain of these documents, I add, refer to other important items which I also require to see, and these have also yet to be provided.

In short, the manner in which the lists and copies have been provided has been dilatory, deficient, obfuscating, and (I submit) deceptive -- a reference to the fact that the letter accompanying No. 500 was backdated to Sept. 28, the day before I issued my Summons, but it was actually postmarked Sept. 29, after it was served.

Julius argues his case well, as is to be expected. Unlike myself, he is eloquent, forceful, and coherent. He pleads that it will be wrong to blame Prof. Lipstadt because of the shortcomings and inadequacies of her lawyers -- which draws the obvious rebuke from Master Trench that in my eyes as Plaintiff there is no distinction between them. Julius produces again the precedent, Allan v Swan Hunter Shipbuilders Ltd, and reads a passage from Malik & Matthews which suggests to him that I may not even rely on Order 24, rule three of the Rules of the Supreme Court.

However, the weakness of that argument lies in the ensuing lines, which Mr Julius has the courtesy to recite (as I will otherwise do so myself):

"Where the Court is not satisfied with the adequacy of a List produced pursuant to rule 3(1), or fraud is alleged, or the existence or authenticity of documents is in issue, or privilege is claimed is in issue, or the Court wishes to impress on the parties the importance of full and frank discovery, the Court may be inclined to order a verifying affidavit."

I remind the Court that for six months Mishcon "hid behind a bush" and did nothing on my requests for documents -- a perhaps over-colourful language which the Master swiftly and properly condemns. The Court may think it useful to remind her of her very serious obligations under discovery.

Master Trench agrees, and orders that she now file and serve an affidavit verifying her lists.

It is a new victory in battle, though not the war.

I anticipate that it will cause Mishcon to realise that they do have further discoverable documents after all -- perhaps even on their premises.

Master Trench asks me about costs. I say: "I ask for no order as to costs."

His eyebrows shoot up -- I want to say that I'm moved by the Christian spirit, this is Christmas, the season for good-will; but, stricken with paranoia lest this fuel accusations of antisemitism, I pack my papers, say "Thank-you, Master," and withdraw.

It is teeming with rain, and I splurge on a taxi back to Duke Street.

New Year's Day 1999: Work through the night until 4:30 a.m. Up at 11:30 a.m., after lying watching the clock with one eye for ten minutes and deciding whether to bound out of bed or not. Resume work at 1:30 pm.

Benté phones at 12:30 p.m., they'll be back from Denmark this evening, D.v.

Aislinn phones to wish a happy New Year; but still sounds sour otherwise.

Dr. John Fox phones, he will testify, tho' he's aware of the risk. He will supply as an exhibit the minutes of the Yad Vashem committee meeting at which Ben Helfgott called for secret pressure to be applied against my publisher Macmillan Ltd. Now that will be something!

This e-mail to R., about Website passwords:

I want to establish a secure director on this site or my alternative site established in California (but not yet active). Into this secure directory (a c.g.i. file?) I want to upload legal documents which are still sub judice, so that my legal friends around the world can comment on them and give me advice.

I would then e-mail or fax to them a password to "unlock" the mystery file or directory. But it must not be possible to hack into the file laterally or directly, without password access. I think it is going to need some Java again, and something on my ISP as well; right? If the file is not secure I might face prison for contempt of Court.

A whinge comes from Michael Shermer, whom I refuse to help any more with his articles. He stamps on my face, to earn pathetic fees. I reply:

You forget that I have now read, from her files, your correspondence with her. I have always played with a straight bat, mit offenem Visier, as the Germans says.

Like a total idiot I work right through the day and then through the night, as I struggled to install password protection on the Website; the Java-scripts each have minor flaws, it turns out.

So I will install them initially as dummies, leading nowhere, to exhaust the pranksters. When I next look up from the computer screen it is 8:15 and past dawn. Benté is getting up, and Jessica.

I work again until 5:30 a.m. on this and that. Disastrous. Sleep for a few hours, then up again at midday.

R. has come and is doing the scanning I left out for him. But he is ponderous and not very time-efficient. He takes long times-out, watching the screen rebuilding, or sipping tea.

Three phone calls from German historian Dr. Schmiede of Mainz; he wants the source of a quote in Hitler's War. I eventually run it down to the Helmuth Greiner Diary (the original pencil draft). He can not believe the German government archives have banned me. Well, if their cowardly press doesn't mention it how would he know?

Work until 7:30 a.m., all night again; up at one. Last day of Jessica's school vacation; she's rumbustious as ever. Boots up the computer, launches Photoshop 5.0, scans her 101 Dalmatians book cover, makes a dozen colour prints. All aged just five years and one month.

Rise at 1:30 p.m. Quiet house, as Jessica is at school.

[Rumours arrive that our scholarly opponent has concealed important documents in a certain location.]

11:40 p.m. I phone [lawyer] in Atlanta. He says we can apply to a US judge for a Motion to Enter. Lock-up storage normally has a padlock to which only the renter has a key.

I write this letter to Prof. Deborah Lipstadt's solicitors Mishcon de Reya:

Further to my letter of December 30: while I have no doubt that you will scrupulously advise your client on her O.24 obligations permit me to state that my interest is solely to insure proper Discovery of a quantity of relevant papers which your client has not included in either list so far. I would prefer not to seem to have ambushed your client into swearing a document improperly.

I send to Prof. Kevin Macdonald this e-mail:

As you may be aware I am suing Prof. Deborah Lipstadt in the British High Court in libel for her book Denying the Holocaust, which is published in the UK.

I have been the victim of a ten (or even twenty) year onslaught against my reputation organised by the ADL and other similar agencies worldwide. I have uncovered much of the documentation revealing this campaign, by various legal methods. I propose to deal with this ongoing attack on free speech and debate as part of my legal process, and having read pages of your latest book, in which you refer to the fate of my biography of Dr Goebbels (on which I researched for eight years!) in the USA, I am considering inviting you to come as an expert witness, covering the materials dealt with in your book, when the trial begins in twelve or eighteen months time.

I work all evening on Susie Töpler's witness statement, then right through the night until 8:30 a.m.; the dawn comes up, and Jessica is standing next to me in her night-dress, asking why I haven't gone to bed.

Benté is very placid these days. Seems content at last?

Prof. Macdonald (California) says he will testify.

I am due in the ugly-Court tomorrow at 10:30 a.m., a piffling amount, but difficult to deal with on top of everything else. Once Hitler's War is back in print -- it is being scanned for this at this moment -- all that will change dramatically.

I take Jessica to school, and it is pouring with rain. Then by bus to the Court Lipstadt's young lawyer James Libson and female counsel are there. I mention that the Lipstadt affidavit is due today, and he says yes, it will be served. I repeat my offer of a few extra days, saying we are getting evidence that there has been "massive concealment". He says I should make a specific request for the records

I point out she must be aware of her obligations by now. He asks if The Observer are still making conciliatory noises. I say they did, but only for a while.

I pick up Jessica at 3:30 from school; she is very pleased. We make a detour through Selfridges toy department on the way back. Mistake, as she fastens her beady eye on a Barbie Walkie-Talkie set at £18.00

I talkie her out of it and walkie her home.

Fax from Libson, ending: "If you have evidence as you say please serve it now in order that it can be addressed in Prof. Lipstadt's affidavit rather than making the threats you have made in correspondence." I reply:

Responding to your fax message, of course I uttered no threats; on the contrary, I offered you an additional seven days to consider whether or not to serve the affidavit which is due today, or to press your client once more about her obligations. If you wish to serve the affidavit as it is, there is of course nothing I can do to challenge it until the hearing of this action, when your client can be cross-examined upon it.

At 6:30 p.m. Mishcon's fax through the Lipstadt affidavit. Mystifyingly, it is not sworn or signed (but Libson said this morning "she has sworn her affidavit": slip of the tongue?) They say in a covering letter that the jurat and signed front sheet will follow. Why? They have had four weeks. . . and they wrote in their earlier fax, this morning, "We are in a position to serve Prof. Lipstadt's affidavit today." Clearly they weren't. So what is going on: is she having misgivings?

I pick up Jessica again, and this time she wheedles out of me a Barbie torch at Selfridges.

In the evening she writes a two-page diary entry about how she now has a torch. Her handwriting is enough to put an adult to shame. I burst with pride and joy over this little girl.

Work until very late, although I don't mean to. In fact I work right through to six a.m. again, wrestling again with Javascript. Up at 11:30 a.m. Mail brings the affidavit from Lipstadt, still unsigned.

Phone discussion with [. . ..] Terms of the Summons, and decision to postpone issuing the subpoenas against [identities omitted . . .] until we have a trial date.

Down to the High Court, issue Summons against Mishcon, and then on to deliver it at their office by hand. Bus back.

As I walk up to our front door, who should come out of the hairdressers below my study but David Frost! Has his hair done there. He claps me on the shoulder, and says I am looking fit, which is true; I say the same to him -- a lie, he looks fat, puffy-faced and sallow as ever. Twenty-two years since that fateful Jun. 9, 1977 Frost Programme with Prof. Gerald Fleming and Robert Waite about Hitler's War. Seems like yesterday.

I work late again. Send this e-mail to Beatrice in Australia, the little stranger:

By my calculations you are either 20-something or 30-something in a day or two, so this letter is just to say Happy Birthday, and to ask when you are coming back to London for a while. I shall be in Key West for three months from May 9, so don't come then (to London). I may be in New Zealand in September, as I've been invited to lecture at a university there, so perhaps I'll swim over to Brisbane and say hello.

We had a quiet Christmas -- as usual, we couldn't afford a Christmas tree. But things are gradually looking up again. Paloma comes round sometimes with Adam, who is turning into a very bright boy indeed. Jessica, just five, writes long letters to everybody in better handwriting than mine.

I am attaching a picture of her singing Christmas carols with the school choir in a Bayswater church. Lots of love, Papa (here's another picture, of her with her best friend Mia, a little Japanese girl)

Bed at six a.m. e-mail plea from K., to support a campaign on behalf of a French publisher, held in a Lyons police cell for 27 hours while his publishing firm's computers, records, discs, etc., were cleaned out by the police.

I chicken out:

Normally I would be happy to join in the hue and cry over Monsieur Plantin, but, until I know more about who he is and what he publishes, I cannot. For all I know it may be child pornography, or outright sedition, or instructions to manufacture bombs.

I may sound like a stick in the mud, but -- I simply have not heard of Jean Plantin before, and do not know who he is. If I campaign on behalf of complete strangers, it devalues the currency. Non?

We simply do not know enough about what Plantin has been up to. Powder dry!

Phone Susie Töpler about her witness statement. No reply. Pilkington Ltd's lawyer phones; Dr. Arnold will supply a witness-statement as requested. That's good. Then Susie phones from Germany: she has been thinking hard, and does not want to sign anything. She begins to explain that this is because she works for a institute which is sehr bekannt in Deutschland, but I say quite simply, "Dann lassen wir es," and hang up.

I am livid. Nine years' friendship up the spout. This moral cowardice is hard to take, particularly when it is at my expense. She phones back, but before she speaks I say, "Es hat wirklich keinen Zweck," and hang up.

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