What the BBC needs to do now

I QUIT the BBC yesterday after 30 marvellous years in its service, most of them in the Indian subcontinent. I did so because I could not sign what amounts to a gagging clause: if I wanted to continue working then I would have to keep my views on the corporation private, even though since last year they have been very public.

My timing might seem odd. Last week the Government announced that the BBC is not to be privatised. The licence fee is guaranteed for another 10 years. That is good news for all who care about British broadcasting, and those like me who have questioned the changes taking place within the BBC. It has to be said, however, that no one took the threat to the BBC's charter very seriously. When the corporation's management was adopting with enthusiasm all the management medicine the Government was trying to force down the throats of doctors, teachers and policemen, it was hardly likely to be rewarded with a death warrant. But it would be churlish to deny them their moment of triumph. It is more appropriate to look to the future. Now is a time to make peace, peace between the management of the BBC and the staff.

In the many euphoric statements issued over the past few days there are some hints that the management wants to make peace. John Birt, for instance, has said: 'There is a very great deal of change ahead but we won't have to embrace it at the speed we have had to over the last 18 months.' But that assurance will not be enough to revive staff morale, which is surely the crucial problem now. Morale will only be revived if the management are able to persuade staff that they are listening to their concerns. These are based on years of experience of what actually happens in broadcasting, experience that few members of the board of management have, and a deep-rooted commitment to public service broadcasting.

Unfortunately John Birt has made a bad start here. He said last week: 'Above all, staff are concerned about redundancy.' This has been the Director General's view for some time. I believe it to be a dangerous half-truth. Of course the staff are concerned about redundancy, but many of my colleagues are, I know, insulted by the suggestion that they are only worried about their own future. They have very real concerns about the impact of the reforms on the quality of programmes and on the BBC's tradition of excellence. If the management does not acknowledge those apprehensions even exist, what hope can there be?

The management must also realise staff are not just there to be talked to. They want to express their views certain that those views are given consideration. During the recent strike one senior manager was trying to convince a group of journalists that the BBC's position was reasonable. He asked why no one turned up to meetings he called to explain the management's point of view. A journalist replied: 'Because you are not interested in hearing our point of view.' The BBC's latest annual report commits managers to hold meetings with their staff at least once a month. It is to be hoped they will be somewhat more productive than those which have been held over the past year.

The management always seeks short cuts to communication, glossy publications which infuriate the staff, a house magazine known as Pravda, and one-day seminars to give PR men opportunities to 'motivate' groups of staff. Some staff see these as a bad joke and others as an insult to their intelligence. Nor have some of the seminars been much comfort to the members of the board of management, who usually grace them towards their end. At one recent seminar a staffer stood up on behalf of his group and said: 'I have no questions. I only want to make a statement. We are lions led by donkeys.'

The style of management which has come in with the reforms is also a barrier to communication. Many middle managers seem anxious to demonstrate that they are on the side of the bosses and so the message becomes even more rigorous than the board of management intended. That also means the decency which should surely still characterise an organisation such as the BBC goes out of the window. I don't want to personalise the argument, but I can't resist giving one example of the carelessness of BBC middle management. The annual report makes much of the number of awards the BBC has won this year. By great good luck, and much hard work by Vanessa Harrison, the producer, a programme I presented won one of those awards. I was not informed that I had been invited to the award lunch. After the announcement of the award I was not even informed by my management that I was one of the winners, let alone congratulated.

With the present mistrust between middle management and their staff, the concept of performance-related pay is particularly dangerous. In a letter to the Guardian, the veteran journalist Charles Wheeler wrote: 'The trouble with performance-related pay is that it tends to reward obedience, discourage non-conformism, and to put too much power into the hands of middle managers.' It was put even more succinctly by another journalist who, after a manager had tried to explain the virtues of performance-related pay to a group of staff, stood up and said: 'That's a charter for toadyism.'

A year ago I was privileged to give the Radio Academy address in which I appealed for a dialogue between management and the staff. It has not taken place. Let us hope that with the charter assured it will now, so that the real reason the BBC wins the next charter is that the public wants it.

(Photograph omitted)