The BBC's recent report on its coverage of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict did little more than state the obvious. It suggested it might be an idea, for example, to provide background information on the story. Most coverage from the region takes it for granted that listeners will be able to locate every new car bombing in its complicated historical context, without help. To those listeners who can't - which is probably most of us - the narrative of daily events can become meaningless.
Almost any regular Radio 4 Today or PM listener could have told you that, so it is a mystery why it took an investigative panel to identify the flaw. But, by a happy coincidence, a new Radio 4 series demonstrated a few days later exactly how the problem could be solved easily and elegantly.
Faultlines (Mondays, 8pm) is a study of four parts of the world plagued by apparently intractable conflict. Each episode examines the roots of a dispute, analyses the failures of resolution, and leaves listeners with a framework for actually understanding the next news report they hear. The first show (8 May) told me more about Sierra Leone in half an hour than all the news bulletins I've ever heard about its coups and civil war.
The key to the success of Faultlines is its presenter, Allan Little, who manages to communicate the tragedy of war without ever sacrificing factual discipline in his narrative. His predecessor as Africa correspondent, Fergal Keane, virtually abandoned reporting towards the end of his time there in favour of emoting. Little gave a clear-eyed analysis of the conflict, and the effect was both illuminating and respectful. He trod a fine path through Sierra Leone's history, indicting both the country's colonial masters and corrupt post-independence leaders for their part in its collapse.
By the end, I felt better-informed not just about Sierra Leone, but about large parts of Africa. "Sierra Leone," Little said, "is Africa in miniature: an attempt to plant an 18th-century European ideal [of democracy] in African soil." He even got away with flourishes that, from another reporter, would have made me cringe. Had Keane described Sierra Leone's coastline - not just once but twice - as the frontier "between the dream Africa dreams and the life it lives", I would probably be writing now about the tragic poetic pretensions of BBC men who fancy themselves.
The chemistry of broadcasters' appeal is a mysterious thing. Listening to The Archive Hour on David Attenborough (6 May), broadcast to mark his 80th birthday on Monday, it occurred to me that his has a lot to do with being blessed with such a voice. Hearing a clip of a 1956 interview, you realised he could have been saying almost anything, and you'd still have wanted to listen.
The Archive Hour really works only when the subject commands an archive rich enough to carry it off, and this was one of the very best. I would just have liked it to make more of one observation, though, about how rival TV executives often regard Attenborough's huge ratings as a freak of nature rather than an example. His programmes tend to be assigned a unique, "national treasure" category, as if nothing he does could have any application elsewhere, or be worth emulating. But, as the presenter pointed out: "David's line is in simple, respectful storytelling."
If the BBC wants to make sure we all understand what it's talking about, simple and respectful storytelling like Faultlines is the answer.
Rachel Cooke is away
