Since the arrival of multi-channel television, there has been considerable debate about whether broadcasting still needs to be under the restraint of so much content regulation. Why should broadcast programmes be treated any differently from other forms of media content? Much of the debate has centred around the impartiality regulations, which some also consider will impede broadcasting's ability to deal effectively with changed political realities, while others argue that these are all that prevent broadcasting from becoming as opinion-driven as much of the press. It is a debate in which old friends and allies can find themselves on opposite sides of the fence... Brian Winston is dean of the Faculty of Media & Humanities at the University of Lincoln and a member of the BJR editorial board.
Contents - Vol 15, No 1, 2004Editorial - Cleaning up the act 3The greatest columnists Bill Hagerty - And the winners are... 6 Keith Waterhouse - Those I have loved and loathed 7 After Hutton Michael Brunson - Putting ourselves beyond reproach 13 Brian Winston - Say goodnight, nurse 19 Julian Petley - Balancing the books 23 Roger Harrabin - Risky business 28 Harold Evans - Propaganda versus professionalism 35 Sean Magee - Whipping-boys 43 Peter Preston - Tabloids: only the beginning 50 Victor Davis - Murder, we wrote 56 Chris Frost - For the sake of the children 63 Alec Charles - Racist, or just animal crackers? 68 BOOK REVIEWSMichael Leapman on Christine Fanthome 73Joe Haines on Colin Seymour-Ure 76 Ned Sherrin on Donald Zec 79 Bruce Page on Michael Wolff 81 Brenda Maddox on Arthur Gelb 84 Richard Littlejohn on Bernard Shrimsley 87 ![]()
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When the world was young, so young that Lord Gus Macdonald was just a
callow firebrand producer on World in Action, we had, I thought, a pretty
coherent view of the statutory notion of balance. It was claptrap. “Due
impartiality”, which was how the 1954 Television Act which introduced
commercial broadcasting put it, was nothing but a threadbare attempt on
the part of our political masters to curtail free expression by limiting the
range of acceptable opinions on air. What was acceptable, of course, was
whatever the powers that be thought was OK – which broadcasters had to
second-guess. It was, anyway, impossible of performance, since it suggested
that objectivity in some sort of scientific sense was attainable when it wasn't.
In fact, “due impartiality” was a fraud perpetrated on the public because it
flogged the idea that news and current affairs offered unbiased accounts of
the world when actually their predominant effect was to produce a small-c
conservative picture of events. Far, far more honest to come clean, and put
out the news within the context of an open and transparent editorial position
– like the newspapers. Broadcasting history was held to reveal the truth of this position. In the founding moments of the BBC, just after the 1926 General Strike, John Reith, the first director-general, famously wrote to his managers explaining that the BBC, in the best traditions of the press, was independent: “...but, on the other hand, since the BBC was a national institution, and since the Government in this crisis were acting for the people, the BBC was for the Government in the crisis too”. Balance? Shmalance! As it began, so it went on. In the 1930s, the liberal Helen Matheson, the admired head of the feisty Talks Department, who had been Lady Astor's private secretary, was fired, but so was Vernon Bartlett, a pro-Nazi, ex-Daily Mail journalist who was the Berlin correspondent. By 1938, the net result of these “balanced” cavortings, was, in the words of the BBC's chief news editor, John Coatman, that “in the past we have not played the part which our duty to the people of this country called upon us to play. We have, in fact, taken part in a conspiracy of silence”. Silence remained the order of the day. In 1942, to preserve “balance”, Beveridge was kept from the microphone, unable to present his blueprint for national insurance. A bit controversial, don't you know (despite being published under the aegis of a coalition government). In the name of “balance”, a bloke from MI5 sat for decades in Broadcasting House vetting “sensitive appointments” and marking any suspect's personnel file with that most wonderful badge of honour, an upside-down Christmas tree. (Someone's still doing this, for all we know.) But Mr Hitler and “This is London calling” gave the BBC a brilliant PR smokescreen of “independence”, thereby creating, in the red-blooded socialist language of John Prescott, a “brand” of worldwide renown.
Refined responsesApart from the odd “guidelines”, mainly on “taste” (aka how to reflect the prejudice and bigotries of middle-England), there was no stated requirement for balance before the grubby commercial television broadcasters arrived. Clause 6 of the 1954 Act marked the start of serious regulatory interference by the new Independent Television Authority because its “due impartiality” requirement proved to be very slippery. A Granada programme on drunk driving, which, for the first time, laid out actors to represent the bodies of all those killed on a stretch of road, was deemed not to be “impartial”. As the show's producer, Tim Hewat, put it: “What did they fucking want? Some fucking driver who said he fucking drove better when he was fucking drunk?” The ITA refined its responses. For example, demanding equal time for both major parties on every story (giving them a de facto veto, of course) was dropped; but “due impartiality”, whatever it meant, was never removed. Production codes were starting to proliferate, moving from their original focus of “taste” (still defined in Daily Mail-reader terms) and violence into all areas of output.By 1990, the rules were being written down in ever-expanding detail, e g: “While broadcasters should deal even-handedly with opposing points of view in the arena of democratic debate, it does not mean that ‘balance' is required in any simple mathematical sense or that equal time must be given to each opposing point of view.” Nevertheless, the injunctions, exhortations and prohibitions were still largely crass – for example, the demand that “opinion should be clearly distinguished from fact”. Fact. There's a quaint old Newtonian idea. Enter now the “Ofcomers”. The new lords of the media universe (except, of course, of those bits they are not regulating) have statutory duties laid on them by the 2003 Communications Act, which established Ofcom, to ensure, among much, much else, that:
The genius of this liberal democracy's broadcast media policy has been that regulation is applied seldom and then, usually, more or less in secret. On occasion the system even produces public bust-ups which usefully serve to camouflage the essential mendacity of the independence and balance on offer. The cataclysmic Kelly affair can be seen in this light and has only blown the gaff on the real power relations between broadcasters and politicians because a number of the placemen inside the BBC seemed to have fallen for the original con. They really believed in the myth of their independence. On the other hand, holding the BBC to account in the way it has been done wouldn't get the Government past an even more elementary test of the concept of free expression in a democracy. Of course, for centuries, upsetting a politician in the press has not been any sort of indictable offence. The Mail on Sunday was just as implicated as Dyke in the Gilligan affair, but editor-in-chief Paul Dacre and editor Peter Wright were not invited to the Hutton shindig. There's the rub. Anthony Lester, Liberal peer and QC, wrote in The Guardian (31 January 2004) that if Blair felt he had been libelled his course of action was clear, like anybody else's. He should have sued, as his predecessors Wilson and Major had done. It is fitting that Lord Lester's chambers are named after Blackstone, the great 18th century lawyer whose commentaries on the laws of England in 1765 suggested that there should be “no prior restraint” on publishing expression. Blackstone was pointing up the implications of a position taken in 1695 when Edward Clarke MP argued for the abolition of media content control (then in the form of the Printing Act) by pointing out that it was “very needless”. No libertarian, Clarke envisaged not a free-for-all but merely an acknowledgement that the laws of libel, sedition, blasphemy and the rest rendered specific media control unnecessary.
Dodgy assertionsOf course, received opinion asserts that that was then, long before anything like the power of modern media was envisaged, and this is now. However, although this supposed change is widely believed, it isn't that simple. No modern media outlet, for example, can remotely match the power of The Times for at least a third of the 19th century. In fact, all the arguments for specific media content control are based on similar dodgy assertions – spectrum scarcity, the “uninvited guest”, the contract with the viewer, Rupert must be controlled, “public (ie middle class?) service”, and so on. They are all flawed as reasons for the State to get its censoring hands on content beyond the control the courts provide.It's time to let go of nurse and make, for the broadcast media, the great leap forward into 1696. Ofcom's content board is a disgrace and should be abolished, the spurious “balance” requirement with it. We used to think such things were claptrap. They still are.
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