It was a “profile” interview; no reason for it but to hear from a man who climbed to the highest reaches of the British Army. He was asked about courage – very appropriately, considering he is a holder of the Military Cross awarded for “acts of exemplary gallantry during active operations against the enemy on land”. Sir Richard – who rose to be Chief of the General Staff – was unforthcoming and suitably modest about his medal and how he won it. But he remarked that physical courage tended to be a dwindling resource; individuals, he said, could not go on indefinitely displaying conspicuous bravery. It is a quality that diminishes with age.
We can often see where moral courage is needed in public life and – sadly all too often – where it is lacking.
Then he turned to moral courage, and drew an important distinction; moral courage, he said, is a quality that strengthens with use. It is difficult to act with moral courage, particularly if the stakes are high, but if the strength is found to do the right thing on the first occasion, it becomes easier the second or third time. So, like a muscle, moral courage strengthens each time it is exercised. I do not know much about physical courage – aside from distant days on the rugby pitch where I was anything but brave – I have not had many calls on whatever reserves of it I might have; but Sir Richard’s remarks about moral courage rang true.
“Doing the right thing” becomes, for some individuals, a habit which strengthens. I am not claiming this for myself, but I think we can often see where moral courage is needed in public life and – sadly all too often – where it is lacking. An example is the current scandal surrounding the BBC Panorama interview with Princess Diana in 1995. This interview, conducted by Martin Bashir (now the BBC’s Religion Editor) had momentous consequences; it effectively marked the end of Diana’s marriage to Prince Charles and set in train those events which led to her untimely death two years later. The scandal concerns the methods used by Bashir to secure the interview. Bashir commissioned a freelance graphic artist to forge bank statements which were then presented as evidence to her that she was being spied on. Diana’s insecurities were founded on far-fetched conspiracy theories and these fake bank statements preyed on her paranoia .
It goes without saying that forging bank accounts to scare someone into cooperating with you is something which runs counter to every rule in the BBC’s compendious journalistic guidelines.
It goes without saying that forging bank accounts to scare someone into cooperating with you is something which runs counter to every rule in the BBC’s compendious journalistic guidelines. The graphic artist who did the work is called Martin Weissler and , to his credit, after the interview was broadcast he complained to the BBC because he felt his work had been used in a dishonest way. His conscience was uneasy. He spoke directly to at least two senior BBC news managers and the complaint landed on the desk of Tony Hall, (now Lord Hall of Birkenhead but then the BBC’s Director of News and Current Affairs). Hall launched a short inquiry which concluded that there had been “no intention to mislead or do anything improper” and that Martin Bashir was an “honest man”.
With the BBC’s nihil obstat secured and his career made, Mr Bashir went off to big-time TV in the USA and Tony Hall rose to become first the Director of the Royal Opera House Covent Garden and later, in the fallout from the Jimmy Savile affair, the Director General of the BBC. Martin Weissler meanwhile was blacklisted by the BBC on Hall’s recommendation; he was forced to give up graphics work and moved away to begin again outside London, pursuing an entirely new career.
What is now very clear is that they [the BBC] chose the easier route: to stand by the story, garland Bashir, and dump on the freelance guy, Martin Wiessler.
The reason this whole scandal has surfaced now is because of the dogged work of another investigative journalist, Andy Webb, who followed the story for 20 years and finally, last month, his documentary about the Diana interview aired on Channel 4. It has forced the BBC to order a new, thorough inquiry into the whole affair. Lord Hall and Martin Bashir face some very awkward questions.
Two things strike me about this dismal tale of journalistic chicanery. The first is that when Mr Wiessler originally alerted the BBC to the underhand methods employed to get Diana to cooperate, this presented a severe test of moral courage for the BBC executives involved. The Diana interview was a scoop for the ages; it was one of those rare bits of journalism which truly deserve the “sensational” tag. The interview went around the world, it was watched by hundreds of millions of people fascinated by the sight of the princess baring her soul. After the interview, Bashir and the programme team all received “hero-grams” from their bosses saying what a wonderful job they’d done. So Hall and the others who knew about Bashir’s methods faced a particularly acute dilemma; if they came clean and told the truth, they would be trashing their own momentous scoop.
At an early point in the development of the Diana programme, someone in the BBC, probably the Panorama editor Steve Hewlett (now dead), decided that pursuing Diana for her story was a legitimate journalistic endeavour.
What is now very clear is that they chose the easier route: to stand by the story, garland Bashir, and dump on the freelance guy, Martin Wiessler. In recent interviews Mr Wiessler has been quoted as saying that blaming him for the forgery was like “blaming the pen for a nasty letter” – and it’s difficult not to agree. There is no escaping the fact that it was Bashir and the programme team who were the culprits in this. What this amounts to is a failure of moral courage by all involved and it reflects very badly indeed on an organisation which proudly proclaims “trust is at the heart of all we do”.
There is a second aspect to the morality of that interview. I am one of those people who thinks that there are some areas of life that should be off-bounds to journalists. The prurient media circus that enveloped Charles and Diana and their marriage sickened me. I did not believe then, and I do not believe now, that the media has any business prying into the intimate details of people’s private lives (unless there is evidence of lawbreaking, which is a different matter). At an early point in the development of the Diana programme, someone in the BBC, probably the Panorama editor Steve Hewlett (now dead), decided that pursuing Diana for her story was a legitimate journalistic endeavour. I can see why he, and others, persuaded themselves that it was so – Prince Charles had already had his say in a long interview with David Dimbleby, also on the BBC. But in my view it was never legitimate.
Most people who invite television journalists into their lives have no idea what they’re getting themselves into. The results can be unpredictable and can turn lives upside down; you’d be amazed the number of TV people who say they’d never let a camera anywhere near their private lives. Usually people are cautious about talking – they have a natural suspicion of journalists and it takes time and effort to coax them to do so. It can of course be done for very proper reasons – to uncover and expose wrongdoing for instance – but what was the real justification for tempting Diana to tell her story?
What this amounts to is a failure of moral courage by all involved and it reflects very badly indeed on an organisation which proudly proclaims “trust is at the heart of all we do”.
Despite all the trappings of wealth and celebrity Diana turns out to have been naive, insecure, suggestible and mentally fragile. She was exactly the sort of person who should not have been badgered into a confessional interview which revealed the unhappiness of her marriage. Decent people (and there are decent journalists too) would have seen that frailty and would have seen it as their duty to protect her and not expose her to the pitiless glare of worldwide publicity. But too many journalists feel they have no ‘duty of care’ towards the people they deal with; to them, once an interview is gained, it is game-over and what happens next is none of their concern.
It is said that Diana afterwards regretted her decision to talk to Bashir; but of course there was no going back. To Bashir and the Panorama team Diana was just a story to be pursued, not a human being. They were unscrupulous in their methods and ruthlessly exploited the Princess’s insecurities; when a whistle-blower raised questions they destroyed him professionally and embarked on a 25-year cover-up. There is something truly rotten at the heart of this story, something dishonest and contemptible; it tells us something about where unbridled journalistic ambition can lead and something shameful about the BBC itself. We are promised a full inquiry but the damage, to Diana and her sons can never be undone and, for want of moral courage, the BBC’s own reputation is now, again, under harsh scrutiny.
Robin Aitken was a BBC reporter for 25 years and is now a freelance writer and journalist; his latest book The Noble Liar (Biteback) is now out, in a new edition.
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