The BBC fightback begins

In tomorrow's New Statesman, BBC director of television Roger Mosey and Joan Bakewell ride to the corporation's defence.

After weeks of criticism of the BBC, there's a growing sense that the corporation needs to be defended from those in the Conservative Party and on Fleet Street who are seeking to exploit the crisis to destroy it. In this week's New Statesman, Roger Mosey, the BBC's director of television, who led its coverage of the Olympics, calls for a "sense of proportion" after "a grisly weekend". Mosey, who is one of those tipped to take over as director general, writes:

This shouldn’t be seen as luvvie-style moping about not liking it when the heat is on us. We hold others accountable, so there’s no argument that we should be accountable, too. But as a journalistic culture, we should apply ourselves to the difference between what’s serious wrong­doing in the sense of being criminal or wicked – and what’s just a “good” story with fallible human beings at the centre of it.

He adds that the ultimate test of the BBC is what audiences think about its programmes "rather than about the corporation itself". Here, he says, there is reason for confidence. "Last weekend we broadcast moving coverage of Remembrance Sunday at the Cenotaph and in the Royal Albert Hall, and we’ll be bringing communities together again this weekend for Children in Need. It doesn’t feel that difficult to make the case for the BBC."

Elsewhere in this week's issue, Joan Bakewell, who began her career at the BBC in the 1950s, says that the BBC should "be left alone to regret, to mourn and to repair itself". She writes:

[T]he BBC is a human institution: like any other, it is flawed. It may have been the aspiration of its first director general Lord Reith that it should be entirely perfect, but he was a puritanical control freak.

The BBC now needs a large dose of courage that enables it to look boldly on its structural failings and put some hefty remedies in place. It has a decades-long history of fine programmes that have made legends of its stars, educated the public, spawned heaps of imitators and won a unique reputation throughout the broadcasting world. It now needs to be left alone to regret, to mourn and to repair itself.

You can read these pieces in full, along with contributions on the BBC's future from Jason Cowley, Tristram Hunt, Mehdi Hasan and Rachel Cooke in tomorrow's issue.

The BBC headquarters at New Broadcasting House. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

Getty Images.
Show Hide image

Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.