The BBC is in a British Broadcasting Crisis. The UK’s public broadcaster has had a bruising few years, which have escalated, over the last few weeks, into seemingly non-stop scandal. It’s been lambasted by the political left and right alike, prompting calls for resignations from senior management, including that of the director general. And it has only itself to blame.
In late June, there was uproar over the BBC’s livestreaming of the Glastonbury set by punk duo Bob Vylan, who led a chant against the Israeli military. Then there was the bungling of its response – apologies, condemnations, hasty changes to protocol. One Gaza documentary was found to have breached editorial guidelines, with another, about doctors in Gaza, being pulled from transmission. Alongside this, there is the endlessly unfurling debacle that is MasterChef, which has culminated in both its presenters being fired – first Gregg Wallace, who is accused of unwanted groping, indecent exposure and suggestive comments towards his co-workers, and then, yesterday, his co-host John Torode, following an allegation that he used racist language.
Given the horror stories that have emerged from the set of MasterChef, it’s clear that both Wallace and Torode had to go. Less fathomable is the thought process behind the Beeb’s axing of Nadiya Hussain, who this week upbraided her former employer in a podcast interview. Hussain won The Great British Bake Off as an amateur baker in 2015, delivering an emotional speech that was watched by 14.5 million on the BBC. “I’m never going to put boundaries on myself again,” she said. “I’m never going to say, ‘I can’t do it.’ I can and I will.” But last month, following a decade-long partnership that has yielded cooking shows, food travelogues and a documentary about her anxiety disorder, the BBC abruptly announced it would be dropping Hussain from its schedules, in effect telling her: you can’t and you won’t.
After a lengthy silence, Hussain finally shared her thoughts yesterday on the We Need to Talk podcast, telling host Paul C Brunson: “The BBC [will] keep you until you’re of no use to them. The second you don’t fit the neat little box, there’ll be no space for you.” In a conversation spanning nearly two hours, Hussain was damning about her former employers, noting how she was “sold the dream” of a TV career and yet was “always made to feel my trophy was going to get taken away from me. I felt like I always had to be grateful ... [But] gratitude should not sit on your face like a muzzle”.
Hussain’s comments might just be egg on the BBC’s face, compared to, say, the more troubling scandals surrounding MasterChef – but they nonetheless expose the company's almost compulsive knack for shooting itself in the foot. Hussain is known for BBC shows including Nadiya’s British Food Adventure, Nadiya’s Asian Odyssey, Nadiya’s Everyday Baking and Nadiya’s Fast American Adventure, all of which showcased her singular warmth, charisma and often surprising recipes (such as fish finger lasagne). Note the mononym in those titles: right from the off, Hussain’s name was crucial to the brand. So too was her Muslim identity, at least as far as the BBC was concerned. At a time when diversity was a hot topic, and many were decrying the pale, stale males at the top of the BBC, here was a woman in a hijab who had won a show with the words “Great British” in the title. And she was a hit with viewers, with fans anointing themselves #Nadiyators on social media. Not for nothing did one TV reviewer call her “a gift to television and possibly the nation”.
Of course, a job for life is not a given in the broadcasting industry, especially in today’s climate, and nor should it be. A turnover of TV presenters is a good thing, allowing fresh talent to rise through the ranks. But, as recent scandals have shown, it can take some serious transgressions before the BBC agrees to part ways with its most bankable male stars. We may never know what Hussain was being paid to front her cooking shows though it’s fair to assume it was a drop in the ocean compared to, say, the annual £1.3m the BBC stumped up for Gary Lineker, the Match of the Day presenter who left under a cloud in May and whose final year there was blighted by one row after another. Or the £475,000 it was paying the now-disgraced newsreader Huw Edwards.
Chances are, the ever-popular Hussain won’t be gone from our screens for long; I’d put money on her already being in talks with other broadcasters. But her disgruntlement at how she was treated by the BBC underlines a growing perception of dysfunction and poor decision making right at the top of the corporation. Whatever the reason for Hussain’s exit, the optics have raised eyebrows, especially given the chef’s outspoken support of Palestine – which she also discussed on yesterday’s podcast.
Making matters worse is that this current run of scandals comes at a time of existential jeopardy for the BBC. An annual report revealed that a further 300,000 households have stopped paying the licence fee, a funding system that most now agree is unenforceable. Add to that the pressure from other, better-funded streaming services, plus the expiring charter in 2027, and the future of the UK’s national broadcaster looks ever more uncertain.
Just two months ago, the director general, Tim Davie, delivered an impassioned speech about trust – in each other, in information and in our institutions. It is “the glue that holds us together”, he said. It’s time for the BBC to get its house in order and win back that trust before it’s too late.
