The BBC’S crazy balancing act is leaving us all in the dark
For some time there’s been a problem with the BBC’S approach to news. But it isn’t bias. I find accusations of BBC bias hard to take seriously. It’s always the same. The Left accuses the BBC of Right-wing bias – while the Right, just as vehemently, accuses it of Left-wing bias. It never seems to occur to either side that their accusations of bias are themselves biased. It’s like a football match: both sets of fans taking turns to abuse the referee, convinced that he’s biased in the other team’s favour.
The real problem with BBC news is its obsession with “balance”. The purpose of news reporting is to establish the facts, and tell the public what they are. All too often, however, the BBC ducks this responsibility. Perhaps because of all those accusations of bias, it’s become terrified of upsetting anybody. So when covering an issue of particular contentiousness – climate change, say, or some aspect of Brexit – it simply presents the issue as a debate between two parties of equal legitimacy, and leaves the public to figure out for itself what the truth is.
The BBC’S attitude is like that of a GCSE English teacher: “There’s no such thing as a wrong answer! Everyone’s interpretation is equally valid!” Which is why, time and again, the poor old viewer or listener is forced to endure a slanging match between an expert in the field, and a crank.
The way things are going, the following can’t be far away.
Presenter: “And now, time for the weather. Slight change from the usual format. Alongside Tomasz Schafernaker, we’re joined by Dan Contrary, a blogger for the hard-hitting current affairs website Nailed. Tomasz, what’s the outlook for today?”
Weatherman: “Well, Huw, some showers, but on the plus side it’s going to be warm again.”
Presenter: “And Dan?”
Guest: “Fake news. Don’t listen to a word he’s just said. It’s going to be freezing. In fact it already is. Wales is under 10ft of snow. The Thames is rock-solid. And Birmingham city centre has just been overrun by penguins.”
Weatherman: “Sorry, what?”
Guest: “That’s right. Freezing. That’s the weather out there in the real world. Not that you’d know it, from listening to the smug groupthink of the meteorological establishment. The ordinary working people of this country are sick of being told what to think by the Met Office elite. All this scaremongering about a so-called ‘heatwave’ is just a myth spread by Big Pharma in order to sell sun cream. Which, by the way, is a complete scam, because there’s actually no such thing as either sunburn or skin cancer.” Presenter: “We’ll have to leave it there, gentlemen, but thanks very much to you both for joining us. [To camera.] Well, certainly a divisive issue. Is it summer – or is it winter? One thing’s for certain: this debate isn’t going to go away any time soon!”
I’ve just finished reading a novel about Brexit. It was an unsettling experience. Mainly because it was published in 1972.
The novel, Rule Britannia, was written by Daphne du Maurier – the author of Rebecca. When Rule Britannia was published, Britain had yet even to join the European Communities, as the EU was then known. Du Maurier, though, decided to imagine a Britain of the future, in which the majority of British people have grown disillusioned with Europe – and have just voted to leave.
The picture she paints is vivid. Eerily vivid.
Not long after the referendum, the country is placed in a state of emergency. In a broadcast to the nation, the prime minister confesses that the “breakdown of our partnership within the European community, and our withdrawal from it, [have] brought great economic difficulties”. Supermarkets are running out of food, prices are rising by the day, and the government has started rationing. Unemployment is high.
Perhaps surprisingly, there are no riots or demonstrations. Then again, observes one character, the public are in no position to protest – after all, they voted for this, even though they were warned about the likely economic consequences. (“The mass of people … couldn’t very well demo without losing face.”)
In any case, plenty of voters seem convinced that the future remains bright. One character looks forward excitedly to Britain forming stronger bonds with what, in our own time, some prominent Brexiteers call the anglosphere. “It’s a wonderful thing for the English-speaking countries to get together,” he says. “America, Australia, South Africa, ourselves … You won’t get the foreigners trying to push us around now.”
In the meantime, though, du Maurier’s Britain is in dire straits. So dire that the prime minister has no choice but to go cap in hand to the president of the US – who immediately capitalises on our vulnerability. In public the Americans claim they’re entering into a mutually beneficial partnership with us – but in reality, they’re screwing us over. From now on, we’ve got to live by their rules.
Anyway: a fascinating look into du Maurier’s crystal ball. We’ll just have to hope it was faulty.
In the latest issue of the Spectator, Boris Johnson passes on a tip for would-be authors. According to a publisher he met, there are two subjects that never fail to sell: “Churchill,” revealed the publisher, “and cats.”
The popularity of books about cats, it seems, is remarkably consistent. Back in the 1970s, Alan Coren was told by his agent that there were three subjects that never failed to sell. “Cats, golf, and Nazis.”
Coren took the advice on board. When the time came to publish his next collection of columns from Punch, he called it Golfing for Cats
– and decorated the cover with a swastika.