It might be a sign of how often I tune into the BBC that I’m beginning to feel tortured by the drip-feed of its catchphrase ‘This is our BBC’. This is accompanied by sundry celebrities rejoicing in the riches to be had for the payment of a licence fee, which currently stands at £180 per annum.
To some, such as Lord Moore of Etchingham, Thatcher’s biographer, this is more than they can bear, though for simply turning up at Westminster he can claim double that by way of daily allowance. For people like him, the licence fee is a tax he would rather not pay. Nor does he have to; all he need do is not watch or listen to any programmes and ignore demands to cough up.
I, on the other hand, am happy to pay. To me, the BBC is part of the glue that holds this increasingly disunited kingdom together. Like the NHS, it is a uniquely British institution, founded on the best of intentions with an egalitarian ethos and based on principles that are, even in the current climate, the envy of much of the world. It is our BBC, a reflection of this inchoate nation, with all its imperfections and glories.
It is because we care about it so much that we feel obliged to criticise it. Of late, however, the criticism has reached hysterical levels. I am sure that Herald readers do not need to be reminded of the howls of protest when venerable presenters on Radio Scotland were nudged aside to make way for younger broadcasters. Complainers were so exercised, it was as if a pontiff had been made redundant. Meanwhile, on television, River City was axed, which led to much gnashing of teeth. For those of us who were not addicts it felt a bit like being at a funeral for a person we barely knew.
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Nothing is forever, though. Programmes come and go and new ones take their place, some must-sees, others less so. Each has its moment and then it’s gone, like a mayfly, perhaps to be endlessly revived on a channel devoted to the so-called golden age of television, the forever home of Dad’s Army and One Foot in the Grave.
In the past the BBC has imperiously rebuffed assaults on its existence, but you sense the attacks are more serious now, and potentially lethal. A few years ago Patrick Barwise and Peter York co-wrote a book titled The War Against the BBC, whose subtitle - “How an Unprecedented Combination of Hostile Forces is Destroying Britain’s Greatest Cultural Institution…And Why You Should Care” - was a clarion call for us to wake up to the peril facing the institution.
In particular, as Barwise and York acknowledged, it faced threats from the right and from a self-serving prime minister, Boris Johnson, whose much-unmissed aide de camp, Dominic Cummings, advocated the end of the BBC “in its current form”. The problem for messrs Johnson and Cummings, as it has been for innumerable politicians across the political divide, was that BBC had the temerity to investigate their manifold inadequacies and share them with the rest of us.
Johnson and Cummings were simply banging a drum that the likes of the Daily Mail and the Daily Telegraph had been thumping for as long as their leader writers could remember. For them the BBC was a leftist, liberal, elitist cabal hellbent on turning Britain into a hotbed of socialism and diversity.
Alas, evidence of this was frustratingly hard to come by. What it usually amounted to was reporting of successive prime ministers’ missteps and the incessant infighting in the Tory ranks, especially over our membership of the European Union. The SNP was similarly agitated over the Corporation’s coverage of the Scottish independence referendum. No matter how often the BBC insists on its duty to impartiality it is never enough to satisfy those who are ideologically driven.
At heart, though, impartiality, balance and fair-mindedness are the raison d’être of a public broadcaster. One looks in despair across the pond where Fox News and others find facts inconvenient, treat truth as indefinable and disregard expert witnesses in favour of brainless pundits who treat the ravings of Donald Trump as if he were Socrates.
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The effect is there for all to see. America, never the most cohesive of countries, is grievously divided, possibly irreparably so. When columnists in the New York Times raise the possibility of a second civil war, you know things are bad. What America needs - what we all need - are reliable sources of news that set a standard for everyone in public life to conform to. Here that source is the BBC which, while not always perfect, does at least aspire to a level of discourse that reasonable people can recognise is worth preserving. To ensure it does we must hold it to account. But we must also be prepared to defend it against those who would like our media to become a free-for-all for billionaires intent on using the airwaves and internet for their own nefarious ends. Lose the BBC, or reduce its impact to that of the US’s National Public Radio (admirable though much of its output is), and it will be replaced by those who are - at best - answerable only to shareholders.
What is my BBC? I ask myself the question every time I hear “This is our BBC” and I always come up with a different answer. It begins with Radio Four and Farming Today and the Today programme. Over breakfast, having had my fill of the world’s woes, I transfer my allegiance to Radio Three, of which Classic FM is an anaemic alternative.
Around lunchtime I’m back on Radio 4 to catch up with the consumer programme You and Yours. Thereafter, there being a test match, it’s time for Test Match Special, where cricket is merely the excuse for Jonathan Agnew and his chums to have a chinwag.
I might watch University Challenge, or head to BBC Sounds for an episode of Private Passions (much better than Desert Island Discs), Just a Minute or a book serialisation. On Saturdays, Radio 5 Live keeps me abreast of footballing matters, knowledge of which is essential for maintaining domestic harmony. Which means I am informed, educated and entertained for less than 50p a day. Thank you BBC.
Rosemary Goring is a columnist, historical novelist, and author of books on Scottish history. Her latest is Exile: The Captive Years of Mary, Queen of Scots
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