Interview: Roger Mosey, BBC TV News (Evening Standard)
By David Rowan
IT takes acute political skills to survive as a senior BBC executive nowadays, and Roger Mosey, head of television news, is renowned as the ultimate tactical operator. Lying low as his boss, Richard Sambrook, took the flak during Hutton, Mosey emerged only to deliver headline- grabbing speeches championing his department's "upmarket" strengths.
Since then, his supporters have tipped him for every high-level corporation vacancy. Mosey has the impeccable ability to fall under the most flattering of spotlights.
This week, as the new directorgeneral sets out his "public value" manifesto, Mosey wants to show that BBC News has learned the lessons of Hutton. It accepts the editorial safeguards proposed by Ron Neil, a former head of news, so the real story, Mosey insists, is its pursuit of "impartiality, accuracy and independence".
"Things went wrong, systems went wrong, which we are addressing," he says, "but there is no ' crisis' in BBC journalism." Indeed, he would rather talk about the 50th anniversary of television news, a morale-booster which conveniently falls next Monday.
Yet for all Mosey's optimism, the corporation has not entirely exorcised the ghost of Andrew Gilligan. Some news staff are already worrying that the Neil review will stifle challenging reporting. With lawyers brought into the heart of the newsroom, and new powers to make reporters name sources to editors, won't the reforms simply inhibit journalistic enterprise?
Mosey, 46, whose empire includes all the main TV bulletins, Newsnight and News 24, rejects any suggestion that the news will become softer. The decision to bring in lawyers, he insists, "is designed to get things on air rather than stop things getting on air".
The legal team is currently based in another building, so cannot make a split-second judgment when new footage arrives just before airtime. "And when you get a split verdict in a court case, you have a second to decide whether you can run the backgrounders," Mosey continues. "That's exactly where it's useful to see the whites of the lawyer's eyes."
More controversial is a plan to send all news staff for periodic courses at a BBC "college of journalism". Some correspondents have called the idea patronising, and Jeff Randall, the business editor, reportedly complained: "I don't need to go to back to school - I did that 25 years ago."
"The papers can have their fun about Jeremy Paxman sitting on the front row, but it's about training the bulk of our journalists, especially when they are promoted," Mosey retorts. "These are not just BBC problems but are industrywide. Are there consistent training standards? How do you get people to keep up to date on the law?"
Yet excessive caution risks leaving it to others to set the news agenda. Does he still think the BBC should break stories? "Yes, absolutely," he says. There will still be "original, challenging and bold" reporting. So how would he respond to Mark Byford, who as acting director general suggested that the BBC should not be " competing with newspapers or whatever in bringing original exclusives"?
"I think he was saying …" Mosey begins, before evading the question with a non sequitur: "Research, which I'm sure he'd seen, shows that viewers really hate great red blobs on screen saying 'exclusive', as they think the BBC should be above that."
But what of the stories themselves - can he name the BBC's biggest recent scoop? He mentions "the story about the fireworthiness of the Queen Mary 2" - not, perhaps, one to set Fleet Street abuzz.
BESIDES, doesn't Sky News regularly beat News 24 to stories? Not so, Mosey asserts, brandishing yet more research which put the stations roughly level over three days. "Sure, we want to break news, but our channel has to be demonstrably of a higher quality and a higher public purpose than Sky News."
In his speeches, Mosey has carefully positioned himself as a champion of serious, upmarket coverage in contrast to the "poisonous cocktail" of smut chasing ratings elsewhere. The claim is reinforced by his own background as editor of Radio 4's Today programme, PM and The World at One, before he moved to run Five Live.
So how does he respond to Nick Higham, the BBC's media correspondent, who complained last October that "insignificant and trivial" entertainment and sport stories were squeezing out serious stories in the quest for ratings?
"I genuinely didn't recognise that interpretation," he says, blaming "a lag in people's perceptions".
Under a new editor, the Six O'Clock News "has taken a very classic mainstream BBC agenda," he claims, with only occasional entertainment stories. Ratings, he insists, matter less than reflecting that "more serious agenda" - although, he asserts, his strategy has brought both. "When we moved the 10, everyone said the dull and stodgy BBC would get hammered every night by ITN," he said. "But almost all our bulletins are way ahead [of ITN] by having an utterly more serious agenda, not by being daft and dumbing down."
There are less career-enhancing areas on which he refuses to comment, such as the expensive Oryx libel settlement, or the current Foreign Office plan for a BBC Arabic channel to counter al-Jazeera ("outside my area"). Not surprisingly, he rejects claims that BBC News is politically biased, although he does accept that it has misjudged certain stories that challenge journalism's liberal ethos.
"On asylum we were slow to pick up public concern - not just the BBC, but Sky and ITN," he admits. He considered the Telegraph's Beebwatch column mean-spirited at times, but accepts that "it is absolutely right that we are accountable and are challenged".
So where next for Mosey after four years facing those challenges?
It is, he claims, "genuinely tiresome" being tipped for each big job - although he did apply to run BBC2. But what of speculation that he has also been coveting Richard Sambrook's job as director of news? "Richard and I have an extremely close relationship, and he's an absolutely fantastic boss," he says without flinching. Which, in BBC management jargon, is usually a signal to watch one's back.
(Evening Standard, June 30 2004)
IT takes acute political skills to survive as a senior BBC executive nowadays, and Roger Mosey, head of television news, is renowned as the ultimate tactical operator. Lying low as his boss, Richard Sambrook, took the flak during Hutton, Mosey emerged only to deliver headline- grabbing speeches championing his department's "upmarket" strengths.
Since then, his supporters have tipped him for every high-level corporation vacancy. Mosey has the impeccable ability to fall under the most flattering of spotlights.
This week, as the new directorgeneral sets out his "public value" manifesto, Mosey wants to show that BBC News has learned the lessons of Hutton. It accepts the editorial safeguards proposed by Ron Neil, a former head of news, so the real story, Mosey insists, is its pursuit of "impartiality, accuracy and independence".
"Things went wrong, systems went wrong, which we are addressing," he says, "but there is no ' crisis' in BBC journalism." Indeed, he would rather talk about the 50th anniversary of television news, a morale-booster which conveniently falls next Monday.
Yet for all Mosey's optimism, the corporation has not entirely exorcised the ghost of Andrew Gilligan. Some news staff are already worrying that the Neil review will stifle challenging reporting. With lawyers brought into the heart of the newsroom, and new powers to make reporters name sources to editors, won't the reforms simply inhibit journalistic enterprise?
Mosey, 46, whose empire includes all the main TV bulletins, Newsnight and News 24, rejects any suggestion that the news will become softer. The decision to bring in lawyers, he insists, "is designed to get things on air rather than stop things getting on air".
The legal team is currently based in another building, so cannot make a split-second judgment when new footage arrives just before airtime. "And when you get a split verdict in a court case, you have a second to decide whether you can run the backgrounders," Mosey continues. "That's exactly where it's useful to see the whites of the lawyer's eyes."
More controversial is a plan to send all news staff for periodic courses at a BBC "college of journalism". Some correspondents have called the idea patronising, and Jeff Randall, the business editor, reportedly complained: "I don't need to go to back to school - I did that 25 years ago."
"The papers can have their fun about Jeremy Paxman sitting on the front row, but it's about training the bulk of our journalists, especially when they are promoted," Mosey retorts. "These are not just BBC problems but are industrywide. Are there consistent training standards? How do you get people to keep up to date on the law?"
Yet excessive caution risks leaving it to others to set the news agenda. Does he still think the BBC should break stories? "Yes, absolutely," he says. There will still be "original, challenging and bold" reporting. So how would he respond to Mark Byford, who as acting director general suggested that the BBC should not be " competing with newspapers or whatever in bringing original exclusives"?
"I think he was saying …" Mosey begins, before evading the question with a non sequitur: "Research, which I'm sure he'd seen, shows that viewers really hate great red blobs on screen saying 'exclusive', as they think the BBC should be above that."
But what of the stories themselves - can he name the BBC's biggest recent scoop? He mentions "the story about the fireworthiness of the Queen Mary 2" - not, perhaps, one to set Fleet Street abuzz.
BESIDES, doesn't Sky News regularly beat News 24 to stories? Not so, Mosey asserts, brandishing yet more research which put the stations roughly level over three days. "Sure, we want to break news, but our channel has to be demonstrably of a higher quality and a higher public purpose than Sky News."
In his speeches, Mosey has carefully positioned himself as a champion of serious, upmarket coverage in contrast to the "poisonous cocktail" of smut chasing ratings elsewhere. The claim is reinforced by his own background as editor of Radio 4's Today programme, PM and The World at One, before he moved to run Five Live.
So how does he respond to Nick Higham, the BBC's media correspondent, who complained last October that "insignificant and trivial" entertainment and sport stories were squeezing out serious stories in the quest for ratings?
"I genuinely didn't recognise that interpretation," he says, blaming "a lag in people's perceptions".
Under a new editor, the Six O'Clock News "has taken a very classic mainstream BBC agenda," he claims, with only occasional entertainment stories. Ratings, he insists, matter less than reflecting that "more serious agenda" - although, he asserts, his strategy has brought both. "When we moved the 10, everyone said the dull and stodgy BBC would get hammered every night by ITN," he said. "But almost all our bulletins are way ahead [of ITN] by having an utterly more serious agenda, not by being daft and dumbing down."
There are less career-enhancing areas on which he refuses to comment, such as the expensive Oryx libel settlement, or the current Foreign Office plan for a BBC Arabic channel to counter al-Jazeera ("outside my area"). Not surprisingly, he rejects claims that BBC News is politically biased, although he does accept that it has misjudged certain stories that challenge journalism's liberal ethos.
"On asylum we were slow to pick up public concern - not just the BBC, but Sky and ITN," he admits. He considered the Telegraph's Beebwatch column mean-spirited at times, but accepts that "it is absolutely right that we are accountable and are challenged".
So where next for Mosey after four years facing those challenges?
It is, he claims, "genuinely tiresome" being tipped for each big job - although he did apply to run BBC2. But what of speculation that he has also been coveting Richard Sambrook's job as director of news? "Richard and I have an extremely close relationship, and he's an absolutely fantastic boss," he says without flinching. Which, in BBC management jargon, is usually a signal to watch one's back.
(Evening Standard, June 30 2004)
<< Home