Is Radio 4 too middle class?

The station's voices are most likely to be drawn from selective and private schools, white, middle aged and male. Does that matter, though?

Here’s a story for the hand-wringers at the BBC to think about: according to a survey by OurBeeb, Radio 4’s voices are most likely to be middle class, drawn from selective and private schools, white, middle aged and male. At least, that’s what they found when they spoke to 42 presenters and guests on Radio 4 on 4 June this year. The findings are not a shock to anyone, I’d imagine. But should Radio 4, the leading speech radio broadcaster in the land, be something other than a home for the establishment?

A similar diversity audit of any media outlet or publication might arrive at similar numbers. The route from fee-paying school to what we refer to as "the media", via Oxbridge and a stint as an unpaid intern, is fairly well-paved; and if you didn’t have to worry terribly about money, you’d want to do something fun and glamorous. (Which working in the media seems, I suppose, for a lot of us, until we got there.) As far as the Oxbridge aspect is concerned, you could see it as evidence that candidates from the "best" universities are rightly scooped up by the BBC. Another way of looking at it, of course, would be to suppose that not everyone reaches the peak of their abilities at 17 years of age, nor continues that upward trajectory throughout their lives, and that where you went to university shouldn’t matter as much as what skills and abilities you have. Call me a graduate of a former polytechnic with a chip on his shoulder if you like, I don’t mind.

Is this something that’s limited to Auntie? I doubt it. Even the less glamorous quarters of the media in which I’ve worked have been overwhelmingly white and middle class, and mainly managed by men, as are many other industries, I’m sure. Highly desirable jobs will attract highly motivated, highly qualified candidates. There are probably socio-economic factors behind some of the lack of diversity – who can actually afford to intern for free, for example, unless they’ve got some kind of family support? But there’s still a whiff of suspicion that "non-U" types are calibrated to fail the recruitment process.

I’ll always remember that the only ever job application form I completed which asked for the name of the school I attended - just the name - on the front page was for a national newspaper. Look, maybe they saw that as being a really, really important piece of information for some reason, and was therefore worth putting ahead of qualifications or experience. I’m sure there are plenty of sensible reasons for it. There’s no point getting worked up about these things, because you can never prove anything, and you end up looking rather bitter and jaded.

Regardless, there is a suspicion among some folk that the BBC, like the dustier quarters of the civil service, retains a "nod and a wink" policy for the old-school tie; and that the usual Tristrams will get waved through without having to be terribly bright. I don’t know if I share that particular paranoia, even though I’ve applied for BBC jobs a handful of times and never made the interview stage. Was that because I went to a state school, or because I just wasn’t good enough? (I suspect it’s the latter.)

What’s the answer then? Well, first we have to see if there’s a problem, which would require a more extensive survey than this, with many more participants. Secondly, we have to ask if it really is a problem of bias or a problem of lack of opportunity. Finally, if there is a problem, and if it is because of some kind of selection bias, employers could do worse than look at the principle of the "Rooney rule". That states that if you select from a diverse slate of candidates, and you end up through affirmative action seeing more candidates from different backgrounds reach the final phase of selection, you end up hiring a wider range of people, while still retaining quality. That is, if there’s a problem.

Maybe the Radio 4 audience is happy with the voices it has, and wouldn’t want anything to change. But maybe the country’s leading broadcaster has more to consider than that.

 

BBC Radio 4: too middle class?
Patrolling the murkier waters of the mainstream media
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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times