Abstract
The BBC tackles allegations of bias, stereotyping, bad taste in its weekly right-to-reply programme, Newswatch. As the show marks its 10th year, presenter
Asking questions, via Twitter, by letter or in the studio, doesn’t always guarantee the answers that viewers want, or even a “sorry”, but Newswatch does have an impact on those in charge. Anecdotally we know that managers, editors, producers and reporters watch it, and are very aware of it being watched by their colleagues and bosses. Informally, some contact us with their own views and concerns.
Viewers who choose to watch a TV bulletin from a public-service broadcaster, rather than skimming the internet for popular clips, are seeking an authoritative take on what is important. This means they are quick to notice careless or partial coverage by journalists who are under deadline pressure or just being lazy. They also flag up stories editors might be consistently ignoring or misreporting.
“That’s not news” is our second most frequent complaint. The rolling news coverage that followed the death of young celebrity Peaches Geldof in April, when airtime was filled with messages taken off Twitter, drew the ire of many viewers. One, Rob Izzy, wrote: “Yes, an announcement and biography with comments from her family. But her taxi driver? Were you that desperate to drag it out longer?” The BBC News channel controller Sam Taylor said the breaking story drew a huge TV audience and 13.5 million readers to the BBC website story, the highest number ever. But could the statistics also prove that this sort of heavily promoted coverage perpetuates a dumbed-down news environment?
Then there’s the serious complaint of omission, or comparative under-reporting. Days of simultaneous rolling coverage across two TV channels after Nelson Mandela’s death in December 2013 prompted 2,000 viewers to complain that vital information about damaging storms hitting the east coast of England was not provided. Were London-based news bosses too obsessed with their own carefully prepared tributes?
The very first Newswatch I presented in September 2012 involved quizzing the head of editorial standards, David Jordan, about why Newsnight had dropped its sex abuse investigation into BBC presenter Jimmy Savile. The story was subsequently picked up by its rival commercial TV station, ITV, and led to a major criminal investigation, uncovering links between powerful figures in entertainment, politics and the police. The BBC’s decision to drop, rather than park, the investigation was because bosses were concerned that journalists only had the testimony of alleged victims, “just the women”, as Newsnight editor Peter Rippon wrote in an email to producer Meirion Jones. It does seem though as if the revelations have had a major and overall positive impact on how news organisations, police and prosecutors have treated the testimony of complainants who have come forward since. The Crown Prosecution Service based their subsequent, successful prosecution of broadcaster Stuart Hall on the testimony of a number of different women, each of whom had come forward separately with individual accounts that proved a matching and consistent pattern of abuse.
Accusations of political bias often draw coordinated complaints
ABOVE: Samira Ahmed in the Newswatch studio
Credit: BBC / Jeff Overs
Accusations of political bias often draw coordinated complaints. The BBC got more than 6,000 at the end of June after the corporation’s TV news programmes failed to give more than a few seconds of airtime to footage of an estimated 5,000-strong demonstration against government’s austerity cuts. The march had started outside the BBC’s news headquarters in London.
Broadcast news is only as good as the individuals making it. And viewers regularly catch out lazing, careless and stereotyped stories
The number of complaints was far greater than the 1,000 back in September 2013 that had been lodged over the BBC’s cursory treatment of a pro-National Health Service (NHS) rally by 50,000 people on the eve of the Conservative Party Conference in Manchester.
In both cases BBC management declined to come on the programme, offering a written statement about why they felt the coverage was fair. Nonetheless, the complaints aired to more than a million viewers during the show’s regular Saturday morning slot on BBC News. The central charge was that the corporation was effectively censoring dissenting voices and thereby providing a distorted picture of public opinion that was undemocratic.
The complaints about the NHS rally also highlighted a more complex view held by some people, that the BBC’s coverage of Britain’s health service is relentlessly negative and scandal-focused. They believe the BBC’s reporting undermines the NHS and feeds the Conservative Party’s political agenda by suggesting that services will only be improved if they are taken over by private companies.
Theories about alleged BBC bias have always flourished on all sides of the political spectrum, but it does seem that the main British broadcasters cover mass demonstrations with minimal frequency and detail unless there is violence. The rise of complex accreditation systems at many major political events can make it easy for reporters to stay within the secure cordons and obey the security guards telling them not to film.
Astute viewers are also quick to challenge careless language and lazy stereotyping. In January 2013, a number complained about BBC reporters describing the armed Islamists who attacked an Algerian gas installation and took the workers hostage, as “insurgents” or “militants”. Why not “terrorists”? A BBC TV news report in June 2014, ahead of the Scotland referendum, canvassed women voters in an Edinburgh beauty parlour. Viewer Zofia Jordan asked: “How about choosing scientists, engineers, bank workers? BBC couldn’t approach women in different careers, such as in science or teaching? We do a lot more than just making other women look pretty.”
Taste and decency is where claims over freedom of expression are the most contentious. The murder of soldier Lee Rigby in May 2013 by two Islamist radicals was filmed by a passerby in south-east London. ITV bought the footage, showing one of the attackers with bloodied hands, explaining his motivation at length. The BBC’s decision to run an extract on its evening bulletins shocked many viewers who felt it gave jihadists the publicity they craved. The head of the BBC Newsroom, Mary Hockaday, said the story required it. The carefully edited footage was preceded with “health” warnings and the limited showings were not gratuitous, but complainants remained sceptical. To them this was an example of newsmakers failing to act responsibly or in the best interests of their audience.
Most crucial of all is the question of how many viewers each formal complaint represents. Is one the equivalent of 1,000 viewers? Or could there be 10,000 who felt the same but sat shouting at the TV or turned off their tablet in annoyance? This is not voting and viewers aren’t always right, but impartial broadcast news is an essential part of an informed democracy. Even with charters and a much stronger regulatory framework than written media, broadcast news is only as good as the individuals making it. And viewers regularly catch out lazy, careless and stereotyped stories.
Since Newswatch began, social media, notably Twitter, has played an increasing role in raising awareness of events that are not being covered, and has helped coordinate instant challenges to missing stories. The #BringBackOurGirls campaign, initiated in Nigeria after the kidnapping of 200 schoolgirls in April, spread worldwide. It didn’t end Boko Haram’s campaign of abduction, but it did bring international news coverage and political attention to a long-running crisis.
Licence-fee funded or not, every news organisation should acknowledge that listening to complaints is vital. Journalists need to be reminded about who they serve, and be kept alert to their duties of impartiality and truth.
Readers as editors
Gone are the days when newspapers could make announcements with Olympian detachment, sure in the knowledge that few would contradict them. Now, the world is full of internet-savvy fact-checkers who can challenge a story but who can also contribute vivid first-hand accounts or expert knowledge to enrich a newspaper’s reporting.
Being open to your readers makes all sorts of sense, journalistically and commercially. It’s all part of a movement away from the “tablets of stone” approach, which began some years ago with an honest recognition of the media’s fallibility.
Step forward those doughty readers’ editors, also known as public editors, toiling in media all around the world. They work within newsrooms, dealing with complaints, publishing corrections and writing columns on their organisation’s journalism. They act independently of the editor, and represent the audience, not the organisation.
You’ll find them at (to name just a few) The New York Times; The Hindu; The Star, Nairobi; Folha de São Paulo; SBS Australia; The Los Angeles Times; and The Guardian.
The principle behind news ombudsmanship is simple: news organisations hold governments and institutions to account, so they in turn should be accountable to their audiences.
Yes, most media have letters pages and comment threads, customer service departments and marketing focus groups, but how many have a staffer in the newsroom who stands back from the fray and really listens to them and, furthermore, acts on their comments from a truly independent position inside the organisation?
It’s all about transparency. From transparency flows trust. Show your readers that you care about accuracy, about fairness, about getting the story right and you gain their trust. If they trust you, they will read you.
There is a strong business case for accountability. If the paper has broad enough shoulders to take some criticism, it can be a hugely beneficial appointment. It clears the editor’s desk of nagging complaints, allowing him or her to get on with the job; it shows you actively care about accuracy; it promotes loyalty within your readership and it significantly reduces litigation costs.
I have recently finished my second term as president of the Organization of News Ombudsmen, the global umbrella group for readers’ editors and broadcasting standards editors, during which time media in Germany, Cyprus, Portugal, Argentina, Albania and even Myanmar have appointed an advocate for their audiences. These are hopeful times for transparency.
And the job isn’t standing still. As the media develops, so the news ombudsman must embrace Twitter and other forms of social media, plus blogging and the demands of 24-hour news cycles. And neither is it a fixed institution.
The government in Argentina has appointed Cynthia Ottaviano as its first “defender of the public” on matters involving broadcast media. The former TV and newspaper journalist travels the country holding public meetings and encouraging debate on the content of programmes. In her first year she tackled the portrayal of violence against women on television, watershed scheduling, better programmes for children and the withdrawal of cultural and educational cable channels.
While no one would pretend that everything in the garden is rosy and Argentina’s president, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, has been accused of trying to curb the critical press by cutting state advertising contracts and breaking up the biggest opposition media group, it’s still a big step forward from 30 years ago, when Argentina’s media were regulated by a committee made up entirely of officers from the armed forces, with no public participation.
© Stephen Pritchard