The pro-coalition bias in the BBC's coverage of the NHS reforms

Research shows that the BBC failed to report the objections to the legislation found in other media outlets.

Health campaigners and media activists were given fresh cause for grievance last week as new evidence emerged of pro-governmental bias in the BBC’s coverage of the NHS reform bill. A report published on Friday by the independent inquiry OurBeeb went viral over the weekend, providing detailed and wide-ranging facts that lend support to a widely felt sensation that the institution failed to represent national opposition in the run up to the reforms.    
        
The research, which covers the two-year period from the bill’s announcement to its eventual codification as the Health and Social Care Act, is limited in main to the BBC’s online coverage of parliamentary and public response to the proposals, yet the results indicate in no uncertain terms reluctance on the part of the BBC to engage with opposition to the bill. Not only did the online coverage fail to address several crucial objections foregrounded in other newspapers - including the Mail on Sunday’s infamous expose of Monitor - financial links between healthcare firms, the Conservatives and the House of Lords, made public on a number of blogs, were never reported. Meanwhile, the question of democratic mandate was scarcely mentioned, and while Parliamentary antagonists were given a cursory platform, expert critics such as Colin Leys and Dr. Eoin Clarke were not given the space and opportunity to highlight the nature of their objections. Most flagrantly, when the bill was passed on 19 March BBC Online did not publish a single article of analysis.

As a member of the editorial team at OurBeeb, the incredulous task of fact-checking the report’s claims emphasised the extent of the schism between BBC reportage and the public regarding this issue. Critics of the report have been quick in pointing to the extensive results of the search terms "democratic mandate" "opposition" and "privatisation" in the period of the bill’s contestation. On closer inspection, however, such frequency is deceptive. The articles themselves in most cases present the reforms, unqualified, in the closeted language of the government report - “putting GPs in control” - while the critical phrases cited in defence are largely to be found in quotations from Nick Clegg and Ed Miliband and comments beneath the footer. "Privatisation" in particular, a term central to the public discussion of the proposals, is virtually absent from the editorial pieces.

Far from a component in a partisan argument this report therefore raises real questions as to the BBC’s capacity to provide thorough critical analysis of domestic news issues under its current organizational pressures. Why were fears over privatisation not explored or explained? Such glaring disjunction between public voices and public broadcasting should set alarm bells ringing for any organisation that is purportedly acting as a representative body. Most worrying is the emergence of this data in a context in which the organisation’s share of the news market is rapidly rising. A recent study by Enders analysis found the BBC’s share of total news consumption is over 60 per cent while Ofcom’s concern that the BBC is increasingly proving a threat to media plurality, as expressed in their June report, went largely unnoticed.

Given the BBC’s position as the UK’s primary news provider, further investigation into NHS coverage provided on other platforms is an urgent priority. The report’s call to the BBC to reveal the parameters of the complaints they received on this subject while providing a full account of their coverage are good starting points. For while an answer to such demands may not abate wider concerns regarding the problems with internal and external plurality, if the BBC is to move beyond defensive talk of "accountability" and be taken seriously as a democratic organisation, the procedures involved in compiling and presenting this coverage must be made available to the public.   

 

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era