Tanjil Rashid

A once-great engine of culture, slowly running out of steam: the BBC at 100

The programmes marking the BBC's centenary offer a much-needed consideration of the place of the broadcaster in our society

A 1942 edition of Orwell’s monthly BBC radio programme Voice which broadcast modern poetry to India. Left to right, seated: BBC broadcaster Venu Chitale, M.J. Tambimuttu, T.S. Eliot, Una Marson, Mulk Raj Anand and BBC staff members Christopher Pemberton and Narayana Menon. Left to right, standing: George Orwell, Orwell’s secretary Nancy Parratt and William Empson. Credit: BBC

I had my birthday recently – one I share  with a venerable old aunt who shaped my formative years. Well-travelled and fluent in more than 40 languages, Auntie broadened my horizons well beyond the dreary suburb where I lived. She informed me about events in faraway lands, but also steeped me in ‘our island story’. On intimate terms with everybody in the arts, Auntie was unbelievably cultivated. Back then, she also spoke with an unmistakable clarity that was a model for non-native speakers – such as myself. Millions worldwide acquired English in this way, gaining with it a whole civilisation.

And so last month, on my birthday, I was genuinely more moved by the thought of the BBC turning 100. Its centenary was marked with some fanfare and a still-ongoing season of rather decent, if not unmissable, programming across radio and television. Taken as a whole, these programmes amount to more than a tribute. They offer a much-needed consideration of the place of the BBC in our society, then, now and to come, for even those of us who are fond of Auntie sometimes find ourselves wondering if it might be time for retirement (if not euthanasia).

In three simple words, a Presbyterian military engineer had truly outdone all the great 19th-century critics

How the BBC Began (BBC2) presents, across two feature-length episodes, an account of the birth of the world’s most famous broadcaster 100 years ago and the first 50 years of its development. It opens with an all-too-brisk portrait of the BBC’s first chief, Lord Reith, and his well-known injunction to ‘inform, educate and entertain’, which shaped the BBC’s ethos for decades. There seemed to me little appreciation of its significance. In three simple words, a Presbyterian military engineer had truly outdone all the great 19th-century critics, outlining a vision of culture that was rigorous, democratic, uplifting and, as the BBC’s broadcasts quickly proved, quite effective.

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