A window on the world

It began with book reviews and griping housewives. But, as Panorama turns 50, what now for the BBC's current-affairs giant? Richard Lindley reports

"The current run of Panorama has finished. The programme will return in September." That's the exciting message you'll find on the BBC's Panorama website.

So, hullo: anybody still there? Does Panorama have a role any more?

Down to just 32 programmes a year now, Panorama has been off the air in recent weeks, unable to cover the political story that's dominated the news. The current-affairs programme has not been there for people to turn to. Although Panorama has always taken a holiday in August, it's hard to imagine that in the past it would not, by now, have snapped back into action to bring us its account of the big issue beyond the circumstances surrounding David Kelly's death: whether the Government deceived us about its reasons for going to war in Iraq.

However, Panorama is now at work on such a programme. Says the reporter John Ware: "We have no agenda on this, and there will be no rush to judgement. Our investigation may well go wider than Lord Hutton's brief. We will pore over every line of what was said and done and come to our own conclusions."

Panorama will shortly be celebrating its 50th birthday - it is the world's longest-running television current-affairs series. But it is hard to call a programme that is off the air for so much of the year "current affairs" and difficult to see why - if it is indeed still the "flagship" - it should go out late on a Sunday night, which viewers don't like. "Panorama is bleeding from a thousand cuts," says one insider: "its lateness, its Sunday placing, its lack of frequency. But we can still do the business." But what is that business? After half a century, what is Panorama for? What has it learnt, from its long experience, that it can do best in its present straitened circumstances?

When it began, in 1953, Panorama was just a rag-bag of feature items - theatre and book reviews, "personality" interviews and a consumer spot where a housewife might argue with a Coal Board official about the poor quality of "nutty slack". But then, in 1955, Grace Wyndham Goldie, with her "sharp tongue and angry snapping eyes", revolutionised the programme. With Michael Peacock as editor, she hired Richard Dimbleby as presenter and great reporters such as Woodrow Wyatt, Robert Kee, James Mossman, Chris Chataway, Robin Day and Ludovic Kennedy to fling open a "window on the world".

As BBC news slowly improved, Panorama abandoned its magazine format to report in greater depth; and it began to challenge all sorts of powerful interests - including government. In the Seventies, a head of current affairs such as the late Brian Wenham could still tell a reporter under political fire: "I shouldn't worry; I pay you to go and make up your mind." But the arrival of Margaret Thatcher made life in Lime Grove difficult.

When a new BBC chairman, Marmaduke Hussey, ordered the abrupt abandonment of the BBC's defence of the Panorama programme, "Maggie's Militant Tendency", which had investigated links between far-right groups and the Conservative Party, the programme team felt betrayed and defeated.

John Birt's arrival, as deputy director general, "to take over the journalism" further lowered morale. Soon, Panorama people found themselves forced to say exactly what would be in their finished programmes before they had had a chance to film anything, and to submit their scripts for approval not just to their editor but sometimes to Birt himself. It had a deadening effect on journalistic enterprise. Gavin Hewitt, already then one of the BBC's most effective news and current-affairs reporters, was pushed to the point of resignation by the mortifying changes he was required to make to the wording of his camera piece for a programme on Conservative Party finances - all to avoid offending the Tories. "It looked on the screen as if we had lost our courage," he says.

On top of this control-freakery, programmes were sometimes pulled or postponed for what seemed other than sound editorial reasons. There was the story of Iraq's "Supergun" - and Britain's part in it - that was delayed until ITV had taken the political flak and done it first; and "Sliding into Slump", an examination of the Tories' economic record, was postponed until the 1992 general election was safely over.

That was the bad side of Panorama under Birt: he made the programme team nervous about tackling anything contentious. But his insistence on a more rigorous approach to what was in a programme script was right. So, at its best, what Panorama now has is both an eagerness to tackle potentially troublesome stories and a commitment to making the resulting programmes fireproof. From the director general, Greg Dyke, down, there is encouragement for Panorama to make waves. Says the editor Mike Robinson: "You know that if you are doing awkward journalism, the BBC will give you space to do it." And a more measured approach means that Panorama reporters are unlikely to let loose language get them into trouble. As one Panorama producer says about the Today programme's recent problems: "You can't have investigative journalism carefully done, and then presented off the top of your head."

But Panorama has to be more than a television Audit Commission; it has to get ahead of the news and tackle important stories early on. For example, the programme has not recently reported on education - even though it is a priority for Tony Blair. And Panorama could take up more issues that are not so much politically dangerous as politically incorrect. As John Ware says: "I'm glad we are now doing more to challenge the received wisdom on issues such as race and integration, or asylum. In the past, I think we have sometimes sewn up our lips in political correctness."

Lorraine Heggessey, the controller of BBC1, insists that Panorama can still do anything - investigate, scrutinise, discuss, go interactive and respond instantly to big news stories. But recent programmes panting along behind the news in Iraq have not added much, and studio discussions - no matter the technical wizardry of linking three continents - still less. And is it really worthwhile feeding unseen viewers' calls from round the world to studio guests? As for the instant special, Panorama can no longer beat the news at that game - it's not set up for it. Better a co-operative effort, with Panorama's reporters and producers using their authority and experience to explain the background and put news in context.

But those exceptions still leave open a great field of opportunity. Panorama is now the only current-affairs programme in Britain with the time and money for research - coupled with the programme length required - to deal properly with big subjects. It's still one of the BBC's crown jewels. But it needs to be freed from the gloomy tower of Sunday night and allowed to shine in a regular weekday peak-time slot, as it once did. Then a new audience will have the chance to discover and value a programme that, as charter renewal approaches, the BBC neglects at its peril.

Richard Lindley reported for 'Panorama' from 1973 to 1988. His book 'Panorama - Fifty Years of Pride and Paranoia' is published in paperback next Monday by Politico's, priced £9.99

SUPERGUNS AND SPAGHETTI

THE HIGHS...

Terror International, 1978 - Tom Mangold's report on links between terrorist groups around the world.

The Norway Channel, 1993 - Jane Corbin's inside story of how Israel and Palestine negotiated the Oslo Accords.

Diana, Princess of Wales, 1995 - Martin Bashir's interview, with Panorama's highest audience of 22.8 million viewers.

Who Bombed Omagh?, 2000 - John Ware names the suspects.

The April Fool spaghetti spoof, 1957 - presented by Richard Dimbleby.

AND THE LOWS

Carrickmore, 1979 - the programme that never was.

Maggie's Militant Tendency, 1984 - the programme was sued for libel - and the BBC abandoned it.

Shoot to Kill, 1988 - postponed by John Birt.

Supergun, 1991 - postponed by John Birt.

Sliding into Slump, 1992 - pulled until after the general election.