As Rachel Reeves can uncomfortably attest, resisting the urge to cry at inconvenient moments can end in failure. I discovered this myself, one afternoon, in Tim Davie’s office.
The situation arose following an email I had sent to the Director General in an entirely personal capacity and at a moment of bleak despair. This was at the end of 2023. Despite the atrocities of October 7, the Jewish community was bleeding: antisemitism in the UK was spiralling, oxygenated, I and many fellow Jews felt, by the BBC’s skewered anti-Israel coverage.
Writing more to vent my own feelings, I asked Davie to come and address the Jewish community directly – and in Manchester, where I lived. Since the Jews in the North – far from London and BBC accountability – were feeling especially vulnerable.
To his credit and my amazement, he replied. Following further emails and out of – what? decency or tick box obligation (probably both) – he agreed to meet me. When I made the case in his office he seemed at first inscrutable. Was it the cracking in my voice or the fact I was fighting back tears which made him relent? I can’t verify (as the BBC might say). Either way, Davie promised that though he couldn’t attend such an event in person, he would send senior executives.
And so under the aegis of the Northern Advocacy Group (NAG) – a Manchester-based organisation committed to holding institutions accountable for manifest anti-Israel bias – the event was arranged. What followed was unprecedented. More than 500 Jewish community members gathered in Manchester (double the number attending a similar event in London) for what would be the largest “live” public forum to date in which BBC executives were challenged, face to face, on the reporting of our public funded broadcaster – and its consequences.
The audience was respectful but the questions were unflinching. Why won’t you call Hamas terrorists? What about the factual inaccuracies? Do you understand what your bias and prejudice does to us?
Having been asked to chair the event I watched the executives closely as they nodded, listened, and gave carefully worded answers to make their case. But when I asked for a show of hands from those who still didn’t trust the BBC, 500 arms spiked in the air.
After the event, three more intimate roundtable discussions followed, giving community members the chance to air further grievances with senior BBC figures. The process stretched out over a year. It ended last March. And still after listening to the Jewish people make their unsparing case, the BBC insisted it had found no evidence of institutional bias.
The experience surely lifts the bonnet on why accusations of anti-Israel bias – and, at times, naked antisemitism – continue to dog the BBC. Namely a culture of weakness that runs right to the top. A spineless, craven unwillingness to offer a concrete and consequential response in the face of first-hand testimony – whether from anguished Northern licence payers or, in the case of Glastonbury, unequivocal death chants.
Indeed, it goes some way to explaining the Director General’s lack of meaningful reaction after Bob Vylan’s repugnant behaviour. Stating that the broadcast was “deeply offensive and totally unacceptable”, he barely landed a blow. Nor, I suspect, will a reported hastily arranged meeting with Jewish staff.
Tim Davie is doubtless a decent man. He may well be sincere in his regret. But limp deflection, rueful apologies, and the tired mantra of “lessons learned” are no longer enough.
If the BBC is to have any hope of regaining credibility, its leadership must find its backbone – starting with the immediate and public dismissal of those responsible for failing to pull the plug on that toxic Glastonbury broadcast.
The tears that threatened to fall in Tim Davie’s office were real. His – and those of his executives – will remain crocodile, unless there is swift, transparent, and decisive action when prejudice towards Israel and the Jewish people presents itself.
Manchester won’t be the only part of the world hoping to hear it will be so.
As Rachel Reeves can uncomfortably attest, resisting the urge to cry at inconvenient moments can end in failure. I discovered this myself, one afternoon, in Tim Davie’s office.
The situation arose following an email I had sent to the Director General in an entirely personal capacity and at a moment of bleak despair. This was at the end of 2023. Despite the atrocities of October 7, the Jewish community was bleeding: antisemitism in the UK was spiralling, oxygenated, I and many fellow Jews felt, by the BBC’s skewered anti-Israel coverage.
Writing more to vent my own feelings, I asked Davie to come and address the Jewish community directly – and in Manchester, where I lived. Since the Jews in the North – far from London and BBC accountability – were feeling especially vulnerable.
To his credit and my amazement, he replied. Following further emails and out of – what? decency or tick box obligation (probably both) – he agreed to meet me. When I made the case in his office he seemed at first inscrutable. Was it the cracking in my voice or the fact I was fighting back tears which made him relent? I can’t verify (as the BBC might say). Either way, Davie promised that though he couldn’t attend such an event in person, he would send senior executives.
And so under the aegis of the Northern Advocacy Group (NAG) – a Manchester-based organisation committed to holding institutions accountable for manifest anti-Israel bias – the event was arranged. What followed was unprecedented. More than 500 Jewish community members gathered in Manchester (double the number attending a similar event in London) for what would be the largest “live” public forum to date in which BBC executives were challenged, face to face, on the reporting of our public funded broadcaster – and its consequences.
The audience was respectful but the questions were unflinching. Why won’t you call Hamas terrorists? What about the factual inaccuracies? Do you understand what your bias and prejudice does to us?
Having been asked to chair the event I watched the executives closely as they nodded, listened, and gave carefully worded answers to make their case. But when I asked for a show of hands from those who still didn’t trust the BBC, 500 arms spiked in the air.
After the event, three more intimate roundtable discussions followed, giving community members the chance to air further grievances with senior BBC figures. The process stretched out over a year. It ended last March. And still after listening to the Jewish people make their unsparing case, the BBC insisted it had found no evidence of institutional bias.
The experience surely lifts the bonnet on why accusations of anti-Israel bias – and, at times, naked antisemitism – continue to dog the BBC. Namely a culture of weakness that runs right to the top. A spineless, craven unwillingness to offer a concrete and consequential response in the face of first-hand testimony – whether from anguished Northern licence payers or, in the case of Glastonbury, unequivocal death chants.
Indeed, it goes some way to explaining the Director General’s lack of meaningful reaction after Bob Vylan’s repugnant behaviour. Stating that the broadcast was “deeply offensive and totally unacceptable”, he barely landed a blow. Nor, I suspect, will a reported hastily arranged meeting with Jewish staff.
Tim Davie is doubtless a decent man. He may well be sincere in his regret. But limp deflection, rueful apologies, and the tired mantra of “lessons learned” are no longer enough.
If the BBC is to have any hope of regaining credibility, its leadership must find its backbone – starting with the immediate and public dismissal of those responsible for failing to pull the plug on that toxic Glastonbury broadcast.
The tears that threatened to fall in Tim Davie’s office were real. His – and those of his executives – will remain crocodile, unless there is swift, transparent, and decisive action when prejudice towards Israel and the Jewish people presents itself.
Manchester won’t be the only part of the world hoping to hear it will be so.