The BBC walks into another political row as it hands Entwistle £450,000

The corporation has exposed itself to the charge of "rewarding failure".

Update: Downing Street has now responded, saying that Entwistle's payoff is "hard to justify" but is a matter for his "conscience". As I said below, it is hard to see Entwistle prevailing at a time when the BBC's reputation has already been so damaged.

If the BBC wants to restore public confidence, it's hard to think of a worse move than handing George Entwistle, who resigned as director general after just 53 days in the job, a payoff of £450,000, the equivalent of a year's salary and double the contractually required amount. In her capacity as shadow media secretary, Harriet Harman has criticised the payout as "a reward for failure" and has urged Entwistle to "decline to accept any more than is required under his contract".

The government, wary of being seen to compromise the BBC's independence, has not commented, but Conservative MP John Whittingdale, who chairs the commons media committee, said that "people would be very surprised that somebody who was in the job for such a short period of time and then had to leave in these circumstances should be walking away with £450,000 of licence fee-payers' money." He also rejected the BBC's argument that the payout was justified since Entwistle would "continue to help on BBC business, most specifically the two ongoing inquiries." He said: "I wouldn't have thought that just because you have to help any inquiry into the Savile allegations you necessarily need to be paid such a large amount of money."

Some have defended the payout on the grounds that Entwistle did not bear primary responsibility for the scandal (and so deserves our sympathy) and that the frequency with which director generals are forced to resign - half of those appointed since 1982 have had to resign over BBC output - means the corporation must offer generous terms to its managers. But whether or not the payout is justified in principle, as a tactical move it's disastrous, a gift to the BBC's many enemies. Having previously forced RBS chief executive Stephen Hester to renounce his bonus, the politicians will fancy their chances of success. In the current climate, it is hard to see Entwistle prevailing.

A journalist is seen presenting in front of camera, outside the BBC's new Broadcasting House in central London. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Theresa May’s stage-managed election campaign keeps the public at bay

Jeremy Corbyn’s approach may be chaotic, but at least it’s more authentic.

The worst part about running an election campaign for a politician? Having to meet the general public. Those ordinary folk can be a tricky lot, with their lack of regard for being on-message, and their pesky real-life concerns.

But it looks like Theresa May has decided to avoid this inconvenience altogether during this snap general election campaign, as it turns out her visit to Leeds last night was so stage-managed that she barely had to face the public.

Accusations have been whizzing around online that at a campaign event at the Shine building in Leeds, the Prime Minister spoke to a room full of guests invited by the party, rather than local people or people who work in the building’s office space.

The Telegraph’s Chris Hope tweeted a picture of the room in which May was addressing her audience yesterday evening a little before 7pm. He pointed out that, being in Leeds, she was in “Labour territory”:

But a few locals who spied this picture online claimed that the audience did not look like who you’d expect to see congregated at Shine – a grade II-listed Victorian school that has been renovated into a community project housing office space and meeting rooms.

“Ask why she didn’t meet any of the people at the business who work in that beautiful building. Everyone there was an invite-only Tory,” tweeted Rik Kendell, a Leeds-based developer and designer who says he works in the Shine building. “She didn’t arrive until we’d all left for the day. Everyone in the building past 6pm was invite-only . . . They seemed to seek out the most clinical corner for their PR photos. Such a beautiful building to work in.”

Other tweeters also found the snapshot jarring:

Shine’s founders have pointed out that they didn’t host or invite Theresa May – rather the party hired out the space for a private event: “All visitors pay for meeting space in Shine and we do not seek out, bid for, or otherwise host any political parties,” wrote managing director Dawn O'Keefe. The guestlist was not down to Shine, but to the Tory party.

The audience consisted of journalists and around 150 Tory activists, according to the Guardian. This was instead of employees from the 16 offices housed in the building. I have asked the Conservative Party for clarification of who was in the audience and whether it was invite-only and am awaiting its response.

Jeremy Corbyn accused May of “hiding from the public”, and local Labour MP Richard Burgon commented that, “like a medieval monarch, she simply briefly relocated her travelling court of admirers to town and then moved on without so much as a nod to the people she considers to be her lowly subjects”.

But it doesn’t look like the Tories’ painstaking stage-management is a fool-proof plan. Having uniform audiences of the party faithful on the campaign trail seems to be confusing the Prime Minister somewhat. During a visit to a (rather sparsely populated) factory in Clay Cross, Derbyshire, yesterday, she appeared to forget where exactly on the campaign trail she was:

The management of Corbyn’s campaign has also resulted in gaffes – but for opposite reasons. A slightly more chaotic approach has led to him facing the wrong way, with his back to the cameras.

Corbyn’s blunder is born out of his instinct to address the crowd rather than the cameras – May’s problem is the other way round. Both, however, seem far more comfortable talking to the party faithful, even if they are venturing out of safe seat territory.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

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