Knowledge, Rumours and Fluff
The BBC has one of the best and most professional news services in the world. A year or two ago, however, a kind of internal malaise set in, and in an effort to follow current trends of democratising to the lowest common denominator, they began sending out e-mails, monthly at best and bi-weekly at worst, asking for my opinion. My opinion, now, imagine that.
At first, like most people nowadays who feel that an apparent levelling-out of the ranks and a return to the grass roots is a good thing, I was flattered. "Hey," I thought, "we have all got something to say, and it matters!" As the months went by, I reconsidered. I began to remember some key passages from Andrew Keen's book "The Cult of the Amateur," with more than a hint of discomfort. A recommended read, by the way, a gem of insights.
I wrote to the BBC: Stop asking me for advice on matters over which I have basically neither knowledge nor expertise. Trust yourselves, and respect listeners who come to you for professionally delivered information and good, sound reporting. I wouldn't hand over my car to a mechanic who felt so unsure of himself that he needed to send a survey out to the neighbourhood before doing my oil change, nor would I be likely to return to a doctor who stopped midway through a critical procedure to ask how I felt he was doing. To each his own talents, skills, and interests.
The worst example of these BBC growing contortions must surely be what is handed to us as news every week-night on their World-Have-Your-Say programme. People decide the theme of discussion of the day through the BBC WHYS website, a noble idea crushed under the weight of heavy naivety, where Mr and Mrs Average Listener choose what the rest of the world will hear on the BBC World Service, 19:00 to 20:00 European time that evening. Makes you shiver? Me too.
To be fair, they occasionally touch upon a story of some usefulness. The key seems to ride with those themes of more widely human connotation, issues where people can easily and heartfully relate to each other on a common emotional ground. Those rare programmes are successful examples of the series, because they bring together those very elements that we all share. They are touching, insightful and maybe even a tiny bit important, as they give us all a sense of kinship on a global scale. Wherever we are, our yearnings are similar, the shows seem to say, in tones and shades resembling the best of Oprah: we want food for our children, a roof over our heads, a bit of recognition and appreciation for what we do, touch, love and a tiny bit of security, not necessarily in that order.
Most WHYS broadcasts are unfortunately so foolishly superficial that they are a good excuse to switch channels between 19:00 and 20:00 ET. Possibly the best example of this was the recent segment dealing with Obama's big Washington get-together with the nuclear bigwigs of the world. People phoning in to WHYS (or writing in via e-mail during the show) seemed to have very clear opinions about why Iran had bombs, Pakistan was moments away from detonating something, or North Korea couldn't be trusted. Powerful words and welded opinions were coming in from all over the world, but for some reason (I could guess one or two and so could you, I think), the presenter did not once ask any of the callers the simple question: From where do you hold such expertise about these matters?..
As things turn out, people get worked up during the show, people begin to argue, some quite agitatedly, but in the end, when the 20:00 hourly news comes on, whoever is talking usually gets cut off. It's probably not a bad thing.