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Why the BBC is less sure of itself than ever

As Mark Thompson prepares to become chief executive of the New York Times, the tributes have been fulsome. The consensus is that, as director general of the BBC since 2004, he has safely guided the corporation through a difficult period of transition. His legacy, however, is more complicated.

Unlike his predecessors John Birt and Greg Dyke, Thompson is a BBC man through and through. Apart from a brief stint at Channel 4, he has spent over 30 years at the corporation. There has been grumbling about cost-cutting, allegations that he was too pro- Israel after he supported the BBC’s decision not to broadcast a Gaza appeal in January 2009 and, in October 2008, the “Sachsgate” silliness involving Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand. Yet this was nothing compared to the Real Lives controversy, regarding an interview with a senior member of the IRA, which did for Alasdair Milne in the 1980s – or the row over a Today programme report questioning the government’s case for going to war in Iraq that brought down Dyke in 2004.

Thompson has three great achievements. First, he understood the need to get a grip on the BBC’s finances: in particular, the populist issues of presenters’ salaries and executives’ expenses. The BBC has sailed through a severe recession relatively unscathed. This is in no small part thanks to him.

Second, he kept the licence fee intact. In October 2010, he agreed a new licence fee settlement that would deliver stable funding until 2016-2017. But it meant cuts. The “delivering quality first” plan called for 16 per cent “savings” and 4 per cent reinvestment over four years. The result was repeats and cuts in personnel but no devastating editorial losses.

Third, Thompson drove the BBC forward to meet the challenges of the digital age, with the launch of the iPlayer, the Red Button (triumphant during the Olympics), HD, the best website of any media organisation and plans to make the BBC archive available online. The most positive changes in the BBC in the past eight years have been not in programme-making, but in the technologies that make programmes, new and old, available in previously inconceivable ways.

Identity crisis

This, Thompson argues, has been achieved without losses to highquality programme-making. In the past year alone, the BBC has produced the best-ever coverage of a single sporting event, the London Olympics, with record viewing figures, and outstanding drama from Sherlock and Doctor Who to The Hollow Crown, a production of Shakespeare’s history plays. The BBC has fought back in the battle of Saturday-night entertainment with Strictly Come Dancing and The Voice UK. On radio and TV, it has done a firstrate job of covering many major national and international events.

So, what’s not to like? Thompson, a good man, has failed to own up to serious problems in programming. The BBC has lost sport after sport in recent years because it doesn’t have the money to compete with ITV and Sky.

You cannot watch the FA Cup final, the Uefa Champions League or the Ashes on the BBC. Horse racing and much of live Formula One have gone, too.

Thompson made his reputation in news and current affairs. He worked on Newsnight and edited Panorama and the Nine O’Clock News. Yet Newsnight and Panorama are in free fall in terms of ratings and reputation. It’s hard to see how either will survive in its present form. A liberal-left bias can be found in much of the BBC’s output. Barack Obama and the Arab spring were assumed to be unquestionably good in a pious, sentimental way. There has been too little hard thinking about what Obama has achieved or what rural Muslim voters (as opposed to liberal, English-speaking women in Cairo) might want.

Meanwhile, whole areas of programme-making that used to be among the jewels in the BBC’s crown have been eroded. Imagine and The Culture Show are poor successors to Bookmark, Arena, Omnibus and The Late Show. To accommodate big names such as Simon Schama and Mary Beard, the power in history documentaries has shifted from producers and directors to presenters. The quality of filmmaking has declined as a result.

Worst of all, the coverage of the Diamond Jubilee was a disaster. It will always be to the BBC that most people turn for the great national moments, but coverage of the jubilee bombed because it lost its sense of its identity. It didn’t want to be too serious, highbrow or reverential. It wanted a warmer, more populist tone and brought in presenters from factual entertainment. Once any public institution loses a sense of what it is, it is in trouble. At this crucial moment, Thompson’s BBC failed.

The BBC has never been less sure of what it is for. News and current affairs, the BBC’s defining assets, are looking wobbly. Few would deny that the corporation is dumbing down. Thompson has consistently got a good press. The next few years will show whether he deserved it.

David Herman is a former BBC arts producer.

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2012 issue of the New Statesman, The end of the political cartoon?

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Shell-shock symphony: Berg’s Wozzeck – opera’s take on post-traumatic stress disorder

Begun in 1914 and premiered in 1925, Wozzeck has class struggle, poverty and mental health problems as its principal subjects.

When I was 12 years old, I made a devastating discovery. The arias from my favourite operas – Rigoletto, Turandot, The Barber of Seville – which I played over and over again, winding and rewinding the cassettes ­until they ceased to work, did not ­necessarily have words that matched the beauty of the music. Intense study of a book I had received for Christmas called Stories from Opera taught me that although some of the soaring melodies I adored carried words about love, death, horror and tragedy, other lyrics, in translation, proved to be people agreeing where to meet later, or misremembering each other’s names.

This crushing disappointment came to mind again recently while I was listening to an edition of Radio 3’s Building a Library, a segment of its regular Saturday-morning CD review, in which new releases are compared and contrasted with archive recordings to find the best listening experience. The reviewer Gillian Moore was surveying the available recordings of Alban Berg’s Wozzeck. She gave credit to several English-language recordings for the clarity they offer newcomers to this work, but eventually concluded that she must recommend a version using the original German, because there were crucial aural elements that could not be reproduced without it.

Moore, now director of music at the Southbank Centre, chose to kick off a series of semi-staged concert performances of operas with Wozzeck. Although undoubtedly an opera, it was a far cry from the fairy stories and doomed romances that filled my pre-teen ears, but it worked surprisingly well stripped of scenery, costumes and other theatrical accoutrements.

Zurich Opera’s presentation placed importance on the orchestral score above all else, allowing its jagged and insistent lines to remind us that this is music born of the dark years between the world wars. Begun in 1914, but delayed while Berg served in the Austro-Hungarian army (it premiered in 1925), it has class struggle, poverty and mental health problems as its principal subjects. The score owes much to Berg’s fellow Viennese composers Gustav Mahler and Arnold Schoenberg (Mahler’s widow put up the money for the initial publication of the score). At times in this production, the orchestra was so utterly central that it felt like a symphony with singing, rather than vocal melodies with accompaniment.

The Wozzeck of the title is a poor soldier, flawed and dogged by madness and visions we would probably now see as signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. He scrapes a living for his girlfriend, Marie, and their son by humiliating himself before his military and class superiors (the Captain, the Doctor, the Drum Major) and by participating in degrading medical “experiments”. The star of the show, the German baritone Christian Gerhaher, had to withdraw at the last minute for health reasons, so the British singer Leigh Melrose stepped in to reprise his Wozzeck from the widely acclaimed 2013 ENO production. Despite performing from behind a music stand, Melrose acquitted himself well, handling the transitions between Berg’s three singing styles: “half-singing”, Sprechgesang (or “spoken singing”) and full vocalisation to great effect.

Gun-Brit Barkmin, with a severe Twenties bob and a flowing scarlet dress, was a superb Marie – alternately harsh and soft as the music demanded it, flirting destructively with the Drum Major while conveying how little choice she had in the matter. Of the ensemble, Lars Woldt’s Doctor particularly stood out, using the German libretto to drag every ounce of black comedy out of his character’s fascination with Wozzeck’s bodily functions. The high vocal standard proved Moore’s point about the necessity of the original German libretto – it is a difficult language to sing, because of all the harsh consonants and modified vowels, but when used expertly can be unendingly expressive. We hear this in the way the double “zz” of the title character’s name becomes a derisory bitten-off “tz” in the mouth of the Captain; and Wozzeck’s exclamation in Act I that “Du, der Platz ist verflucht!” sounds so much more accursed and deranged with all those consonants in such close proximity.

The German sociologist Theodor Adorno once called Berg “the foreign minister of the land of his dreams”, much to the composer’s amusement; but, hearing the score for Wozzeck laid so bare, you understand what Adorno meant. The incredible double crescendo on a single B from the orchestra after Wozzeck murders Marie – raised by the conductor Fabio Luisi in this performance to an unbearable volume before being allowed to die away – feels like music from an other-worldly nightmare. Yet, for the war-battered men who inspired Wozzeck, his tragic half-life was all too real.

Caroline Crampton is web editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 08 October 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin vs Isis