The true story of the Scottish Six


saltire shield'Hall repeatedly refused to answer a question on how a London bulletin would deal with education stories after the Scottish parliament is elected. Would they report on education initiatives by David Blunkett? If so, how were they going to explain to Scottish audiences that Blunkett was now as relevant to their education system as the minister of education in Paris?.'
Professor Lindsay Paterson in the Scotsman, 25 th November 1998.
Lion Rampant

What happened when Broadcasting House came to Queen Margaret Drive

By Professor Lindsay Paterson in the Scotsman

RESPONDING to The Scotsman's poll yesterday on attitudes to a Scottish 6pm television news, an unnamed BBC Scotland spokesman was reported as saying that it showed "the complexity of the issues". Three things leap out from that. The first is the anonymity. The second is the excuse of complexity to avoid commitment. And the third is that the secrecy and the excuse are linked.

Of course things are complex. Life is complex. That does not prevent us taking decisions when we are well informed. The problem with the secrecy which surrounds the BBC is that it vitiates any attempt to have a properly informed public debate about the broadcasting needs of Scotland.

To give a flavour of what goes on, I want to tell a story. I'm breaking the rules by doing this, because it's about a meeting involving the Broadcasting Council for Scotland. And the BCS is supposed to be secret. But the story is so revealing of the problems which secrecy creates that I think that telling it might help to shift this debate about public accountability on.

The story is about a meeting on 2 October. The BCS had tabled a fully-argued case for a Scottish 6pm news, rebutting all the claims against it which London executives had made, and setting out a vision for TV news reporting on Scotland's new democracy. So alarmed were these executives by the strength of the paper that they flew up en masse to address us. There were Will Wyatt, head of BBC broadcasting; Tony Hall, head of BBC news and current affairs; Mark Byford, head of regional broadcasting (the colonial-style title of the office to which BBC Scotland's national controller reports); and his deputy, Michael Stevenson. The whole BCS was there, as were John MacCormick, controller of BBC Scotland, and Mark Leishman, BCS secretary. The event was chaired with great tact by the Rev Norman Drummond, national governor for Scotland.

After a brief opening from the BCS, Byford responded with the most patronising statement that I have heard in this whole sorry saga. The tone can be illustrated by two highlights. He saw fit to inform us of the powers of the Scottish parliament. And he reminded us of the history of the debate about a Scottish 6. Never mind that the BCS knows more about the powers of the parliament than Byford could ever dream of. And never mind that it was the BCS - emphatically not London - which started off the whole debate about a Scottish 6. The message of Byford's lecture was that they had taken control. And, of course, it was all very "complex".

There then followed the most marvellous piece of theatre. One after the other, relentlessly and gracefully, the BCS members tore Byford's case to shreds. From the political left to the political right; from Unionists and nationalists (and all shades in between); and from every part of Scotland - all these voices reiterated the same case, that a mature democracy needs its own broadcasting service.

If this had been a committee of the US Congress interrogating some misbehaving bureaucrats (or misdemeaning president), the BCS case and the response it then provoked would have been on full and spellbinding public view. And then the public could have seen the utterly shamefaced defensiveness with which these highly powerful and highly paid chiefs responded. Their looks reminded me of the hapless Colonel Ollie North, questioned in the full glare of the cameras on the arms to Nicaragua affair. And look what happened to him. I was also reminded of rabbits and headlights.

But even then the London executives lumbered on. Hall was asked about the failure of the London 9pm news the night before even to mention Donald Dewar's keynote speech on constitutional reform to the Labour Party conference.

He said the omission was an "error", and was tongue-tied when reminded of the exactly similar admissions of similar errors stretching back for a decade or more.

Hall repeatedly refused to answer a question on how a London bulletin would deal with education stories after the Scottish parliament is elected. Would they report on education initiatives by David Blunkett? If so, how were they going to explain to Scottish audiences that Blunkett was now as relevant to their education system as the minister of education in Paris? If not, how were they going to deal with understandable anger from English viewers that important stories were being ignored? Hall was silent, pleading "complexity".

Wyatt then launched the famous line with which we have all become familiar in the last week - that the BBC must not get ahead of events, because matters are "complex". This was greeted with audible derision. Derision also was the response to Stevenson's claim that the BBC could easily have ignored any accountability relationship to the Scottish parliament, on the grounds that broadcasting is a power reserved to Westminster. No chance. It was the BCS which had insisted that the BBC in future report annually to Holyrood. Complex accountability is what this is all about.

But the denouement, it turned out, was not to come until the following Tuesday. Hall and his colleagues announced that day - in London - a complete re-vamp of BBC news that precluded any Scottish 6. At no time during their two-and-a-half hours with the BCS had they even hinted that this announcement was imminent. The BCS - yet again - had, unwittingly, been used as a foil of specious accountability to cover up a quite disgraceful display of metropolitan arrogance.

Only when you've sat through dozens of hours of this sort of stuff do you come to understand why London BBC is simply incapable of responding adequately to Scottish home rule. I've decided to present this little vignette, not out of any sense of revenge at being patronised by London executives (I've grown used to that in many areas of my professional life), but to try to show that the culture of secrecy prevents a proper public appreciation of the underlying issues.

Secrecy creates the confused public debate. Secrecy causes leaks and half-truths. Secrecy, therefore, undermines democracy. Of course confidentiality is needed when personal matters are involved. Occasionally, also, commercial considerations have to be protected too, although the BBC rather too often invokes these when what is really at stake is public policy. But the norm ought to be public debate.

What can be done? The Scottish parliament will have to lead by example. It will have to insist to all its own public bodies that their deliberations are public, with agendas, briefing papers and minutes published openly. It should also insist on that in its own operations, and in its dealings with Westminster and Whitehall. That might not force a revolution on BBC policy making. But it might shame it into change. And what a lot it currently has to be ashamed of!

Lindsay Paterson is professor of educational policy at Edinburgh University. He resigned last Friday from the Broadcasting Council for Scotland in protest at the BBC Governors' rejection of a Scottish Six O'Clock News.



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