Sky joins BBC in refusing Gaza appeal
Sky News has informed the Disasters Emergency Committee that it will not be broadcasting an appeal for humanitarian aid for Gaza.
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The BBC's Gaza conflict
Impartiality can be a form of censorship, says Jo Glanville
Like all good censorship rows, the fallout from the BBC’s decision not to transmit the DEC appeal for Gaza has generated more publicity than it would ever have otherwise received. Every news bulletin over the weekend reminded us of the appeal – and of the BBC’s embarrassment. Once again, as with the Ross-Brand debacle, there was the faintly surreal experience of hearing the BBC report on its own story – with cool impartiality of course.
The row has exposed the dangers of rigidly adhering to guidelines, however noble or ultimately sound they may be. If the BBC were to follow the logic of its decision, it would mean that it could only broadcast charity appeals for natural disasters. The requirement of impartiality, though essential for good reporting, can be a form of censorship when unimaginatively applied – and sometimes it becomes a nonsense, as demonstrated over the past few days.
Remember the furore when Barbara Plett dared to express emotion in her report on From Our Own Correspondent, as a dying Yasser Arafat was flown by helicopter to Paris from Ramallah? Although Plett was technically in breach of guidelines and far from impartial, her human response in the context felt entirely appropriate. In fact, one of the reasons why Alan Johnston was such a powerful reporter when he was based in Gaza was precisely because of the humanity in his reporting. While no one could accuse him of bias, there was a compassion in the narrative of his reports that lifted them above the usual detached style of BBC broadcasters.
But impartiality, a core principle for the BBC, becomes particularly critical when it comes to reporting the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. As a former BBC producer, who made a number of programmes on the region, I was made painfully aware of the extreme over anxiety that accompanied the production of any programme that might be judged as partial.
No broadcaster or newspaper that reports on the conflict can ever escape criticism from one side or the other. Not attracting criticism might even be a measure of failure. I remember once being lambasted by a reader for a piece I wrote for the Guardian about the conflict, who criticised me for being too balanced. Strict adherence to impartiality can result in bland, meaningless reporting. In this case, it can also result in poor judgment.
I don't understand this
I really don’t understand this. At all.
On Lèse majesté
Our friend Roby Alampay of the South East Asian Press Alliance has an interesting post on Comment is Free on the iniquities of Thailand’s lèse majesté laws:
‘The charge of lese-majesty [sic] can be brought against anyone by anybody else. In the past year, police summoned an academic who questioned the royal family’s involvement in Thailand’s recent coups, and a former government official who took part in a media forum with some perspectives on republicanism. But charges have also been brought by fellow citizens against a man who, critical of recent coups, refused to stand in a cinema during the customary playing of the king’s anthem, and then against a labour leader who appeared on a TV news programme to talk about an ongoing strike in a clothing factory. The labour dispute had nothing to do with the man who refused to stand in the theatre. But on TV the union leader happened to wear a shirt that read, “Not standing up is not a crime”, and that was all it took for her union-busting employers to bring Thailand’s most notorious anti-insult law to bear down on the worker. Practically every Thai political camp routinely taunts the others with the charge.’
Read the rest here