Lesley Riddoch: MPs v Murdoch: the battle's joined

Is that because there's no compelling evidence against him, or because the NoW is distorting our democracy and silencing witnesses?

Labour MP Tom Watson clearly believes the latter. His Commons speech last week made the serious allegation that tabloid editors are actually running Britain. "It is almost laughable that we sit here in parliament, the central institution of our sacred democracy - yet we are scared of the power that Rebekah Brooks (chief executive of the NoW's publisher News International] wields without a jot of responsibility or accountability," he said.

"The barons of the media, with their red-topped assassins, are the biggest beasts in the modern jungle. They have no predators; they are untouchable. They laugh at the law; they sneer at parliament. They have the power to hurt us, and they do, with gusto and precision, with joy and criminality. Prime ministers quail before them, and that is how they like it. That, indeed, has become how they insist upon it, and we are powerless in the face of them. We are afraid."

Is the NoW effectively running parliament?

On the face of it - no. Last week both the Commons and the Metropolitan Police evidently decided to "feel the fear and do it anyway", announcing new investigations into allegations of phone hacking that resulted in two convictions for intercepting "royal" phone messages and Coulson's resignation in 2007.

Squealing ex-reporters had always suggested phone-tapping was rife but insisted "unconventional" news- gathering techniques were hidden from the boss. Now though, some ex-staff insist Coulson did know and the list of former ministers revealing telecoms irregularities is growing by the day and includes Peter Kilfoyle, Lord Prescott and Tessa Jowell. There could be more - Lib Dem deputy leader Simon Hughes, who gave evidence in 2006, maintains other MPs were too afraid to testify.

Righteous, retrospective anger, however, is a double-edged sword.

MPs are paid to represent the people. Cabinet ministers are paid to take decisions about war, trade, investment and billions in public spending. If the state of their private lives has left them too scared to challenge the NoW, the public is more likely to feel anger at the supine nature of our political class than sympathy.

Of course, it seems unthinkable that a hands-on editor like Coulson could not know how his employees got stories.If an editor doesn't query the source and credibility of sensational allegations, he or she risks bankrupting the paper if the allegations are proved wrong. The NoW still produces career- and reputation-breaking stories every week - as Pakistan cricketers know only too well. If its editor isn't putting reporters through the mill before publication, it's a miracle the paper is still solvent.

But even if Coulson's claims of ignorance beggar belief, the story has still failed to crackle into life.

Why is that? Andy Coulson is not a classic tabloid monster in the model of irritating former Sun boss Kelvin Mackenzie. Nor is he a spin doctor like the irascible Alasdair Campbell whose "hairdrying" calls to journalists inspired the creation of Malcolm Tucker in the BBC's The Thick of It.

Indeed, he would be unrecognisable to most of the public.

The NoW has spent 1.5 million on out-of-court settlements, effectively silencing some of the most prominent hacking victims.

The paper's owner, Rupert Murdoch, has just launched a free paper in New York, which has allowed the NoW's influential sister title, the Times, to suggest the New York Times investigation into NoW's phone hacking is motivated by sour grapes.

The police have also kept a low profile, contacting only a fraction of those on the tabloid's hacking list. Some say the Met and Murdoch were in cahoots. The police say it's hard to prove phone-hacking has actually occurred, aspects of the practice may actually be borderline legal and alleged victims were too embarrassed to come forward.

In truth, for the majority of the public, the whole scandal feels irrelevant, part of a distant and elite world.

High-profile individuals in our celebrity culture are regarded as fair game - in 2005 almost anything said or done by John Prescott, Boris Johnson, Tessa Jowell, Gwyneth Paltrow, George Michael or the late Jade Goody created a story. They were news on a stick in a lazy, sensationalist tabloid world.

The public's prurient interest in fallen celebrity has long allowed it to turn a blind eye to journalistic methods. Now that prurient interest has been joined by a powerful public interest.

Over the last 18 months, journalists have had to drag details of top salaries, bonuses and expenses from every part of society - the Commons, BBC, banks, civil service, public utilities and even trade unions. As a result, the public is inclined to back rule-bending reporters against the privacy- seeking powerful every time.

Without newspaper activity, moats would still be cleaned, duck ponds would still be maintained, empty second homes would still be financed and porn videos would still be watched at the taxpayers' expense. As ye sow, so shall ye reap.

And yet, such smug judgmentalism by the public would also be self-defeating.If politicians and prominent public figures are controlled by fear of tabloid exposure, that's a massive problem for our democracy. Balance between the rights of investigative journalists and public figures must be restored - but that will require some courage from MPs.

Spin doctors and ministers have hitherto been forced from office by the combined efforts of all newspaper groups, led by the baying and relentless Murdoch press.

Can the rump minus Murdoch force Coulson to go?

Not without the testimony of MPs. If they reveal the extent of NoW phone hacking, they may suffer personal embarrassment. They'll also prove to a sceptical public that MPs are absolutely determined to clean up the Commons - whatever it takes.

Or MPs could stay silent, hoping someone without guilt (or baggage) will cast the first stone. In which case, we could all be in for a very long wait.