Interview: James Rubin, Sky News (Evening Standard)
By David Rowan
He is Sky News's big star signing, the former Clinton administration spokesman brought in to anchor a high-profile nightly talk show. Yet after just two weeks in the hot seat, single-handedly presenting World News Tonight from 8pm to 9pm, James Rubin is discovering just how bitchy the British media can be.
The Guardian gave him "the award for worst autocue reader in the world"; the broadcaster Steve Hewlett urged Sky "to stop giving him [the sleeping pill] Mogadon". When this paper suggested that his "frequent" live on-air blips were producing unintentionally " hilarious" television, it also raised the awkward matter of ratings. During part of the second programme, the audience fell to just 1,000 viewers.
So it is honourable, if brave, of Rubin, 45, to accept The Standard's invitation to offer his thoughts on the first weeks of his new career. In the showcase Kensington townhouse he shares with his wife, the CNN reporter Christiane Amanpour, and their five-year-old son Darius, Rubin, in a crisp, white open-collar shirt and an impeccably pressed black suit, appears anything but ruffled as the maid brings in coffee. Tall, focused, and effortlessly dominating the room with his resonant New York accent and Ivy League confidence, he has not, he admits warily, caught up with his press reviews. But as for snipes about the viewing figures - which more typically have been in the 20,000s - these, he suggests, are premature.
"I always thought you judged a race after it's over," he says bullishly. "This is more like a marathon than a sprint, but they seem to have drawn conclusions after the first 50 yards!" His role is not to fight a ratings war, he explains, but to offer "something unique" - a serious, wellresourced foreign-affairs show that directly challenges the trend towards the dumbing-down of television news.
"Sky hired someone they knew was a policy-orientated commentator," he says, half an eye following Sky on the wall-mounted plasma screen. "They didn't say, 'Get ready guys, if in the first nine days you haven't increased ratings we might have to make some changes.' I've never even got a whiff of that." He shifts in his seat. "Look, I've never done this before. I stepped out there on the first day, tried to go from zero to 60 in the world of TV. And every indication I have is that they' re thrilled with my evolution."
Rubin's personal contacts and foreign-policy credibility have certainly brought the channel an enhanced authority. Tony Blair, his first-night guest (attracting almost 50,000 viewers), came on because they had got to know each other in Washington. Rubin's direct role in formulating US foreign policy has also given him an outstandingly informed knowledge with which to frame questions. But, as he readily admits, live TV is harder than he thought, and maybe his questions could be a little shorter, his delivery smoother. He also suggests that he may not continue to present for five nights a week.
"I'm still learning," he says, disarmingly. "People have asked, 'Do I want to be like Jeremy Paxman, like John Humphrys?' I'm flattered that they'd say that to someone who's never done this before, but I want the issues to be the debate, not the people. When I had Blair on, I didn't talk to him about all the things other people talk about - he's got plenty of that. It was Iraq for 15 minutes, Iran for 10 minutes, then Syria for 10 minutes. That doesn't happen very often, and I think I challenged him on the substance but without all the bells and whistles of the 'great political interview'."
Is Amanpour offering professional advice? "Yes!" he exclaims forcefully. "Imagine having a wife who's not only going to give her point of view when you come home from work, but one who's probably the single best TV reporter on the planet. She has opinions, like all good spouses, but in this case I have to pay a lot more attention."
In the film Broadcast News, would he identify more with the nervy Albert Brooks character, or the suave anchor played by William Hurt? "Well, being Jewish, I'm probably closer to Albert Brooks - though not in the way that he sweated while presenting live. But I don't think I'm a phoney either, something that William Hurt was in that movie. To me, phoney is repellent."
He misses the buzz of high-level politics, he says, but not the stress, and he now appreciates the time afforded to him to watch his son grow. "There was the intensity and the adrenaline, and the feeling that you were doing something meaningful, but you get older," he says. "Hopefully you become more balanced in your life. I can already feel it - when I went to work for John Kerry last year [in the US elections], I made choices about when I would or wouldn't go on the campaign plane based on whether my wife and child were in town."
Can he be both policy wonk and objective journalist? In government, he explains, his role was as much public advocacy as politics, which entailed explaining policies and persuading the media of their merits. His show, he says, similarly strives to explain international affairs in an interesting, compelling manner. "It's not as big a transition as it appears," he says. "I started as an aide to Congress, helping Congressmen and Senators come up with lines of policy-oriented inquiry. Later, when I worked for Clinton, yes, we had our agenda, but a daily task was figuring out what the journalists were going to ask us. To be convincing in foreign affairs, you need a meaty discussion, to bring out facts and analysis. Besides, I'm having fun."
One friend he has kept from Washington is Sir Christopher Meyer, then British ambassador. Does he consider it wise for Meyer to have gone public this week with his inside view of Anglo-American negotiations over invading Iraq? "Personally, I wouldn't have done that," he says, nor does he intend to write his own dirt-digging memoir. "But he's a friend, and that doesn't mean I'm criticising him; he's got to make his own judgment as to where he's going to walk." He does reject Meyer's assertion that Blair could have used his supposed influence over President Bush to delay the invasion. Besides, "Christopher was for the war, which makes it a trickier line for him to walk."
What of the suggestion that Meyer's role heading the Press Complaints Commission conflicts with his decision to serialise his book in two newspapers, for a reported £250,000? "When I got married, the same kinds of questions were raised," he says dismissively. "'Christiane is the premier international news reporter, and you work for the State Department, isn't that a conflict of interest?' I couldn't believe it - Christiane was regarded as fiercely independent, and I was seen if anything as fiercely loyal to Clinton."
So was there really no pillow talk about work? "Did I talk to her about my views? Yes, as I talked to the New York Times reporter covering the State Department. But Christiane didn't cover what we did in government, she covered what was actually happening in Bosnia and Iraq and the Middle East. In fact, we watched her reports as part of our information gathering to decide what to do." Now that's a power couple.
Still, having jumped to the other side, does he not feel that his avowed liberal politics compromise his objectivity as an interviewer? His views remain hard to pin down, he says: on Iraq, for instance, he supported the invasion but has strong views against its execution. And the potential conflict with Rupert Murdoch's own pro-Republican views? "I'm not on Fox or one of his newspapers," Rubin replies. "I wouldn't have come to Sky if I'd felt there was any whiff of partiality expected of me. Sky is straight."
Besides, he adds, "it's a great thing that Sky News has decided to devote an hour a day to international news, an unusual commitment when others are scaling back". Even if not that many people choose to tune in? "One of our family's mantras is that good TV makes for good ratings," he replies. "Once you lose your focus from good TV, what's the point?"
(Evening Standard, November 9 2005)
. . . AND READ MORE MEDIA INTERVIEWS HERE . . .
He is Sky News's big star signing, the former Clinton administration spokesman brought in to anchor a high-profile nightly talk show. Yet after just two weeks in the hot seat, single-handedly presenting World News Tonight from 8pm to 9pm, James Rubin is discovering just how bitchy the British media can be.
The Guardian gave him "the award for worst autocue reader in the world"; the broadcaster Steve Hewlett urged Sky "to stop giving him [the sleeping pill] Mogadon". When this paper suggested that his "frequent" live on-air blips were producing unintentionally " hilarious" television, it also raised the awkward matter of ratings. During part of the second programme, the audience fell to just 1,000 viewers.
So it is honourable, if brave, of Rubin, 45, to accept The Standard's invitation to offer his thoughts on the first weeks of his new career. In the showcase Kensington townhouse he shares with his wife, the CNN reporter Christiane Amanpour, and their five-year-old son Darius, Rubin, in a crisp, white open-collar shirt and an impeccably pressed black suit, appears anything but ruffled as the maid brings in coffee. Tall, focused, and effortlessly dominating the room with his resonant New York accent and Ivy League confidence, he has not, he admits warily, caught up with his press reviews. But as for snipes about the viewing figures - which more typically have been in the 20,000s - these, he suggests, are premature.
"I always thought you judged a race after it's over," he says bullishly. "This is more like a marathon than a sprint, but they seem to have drawn conclusions after the first 50 yards!" His role is not to fight a ratings war, he explains, but to offer "something unique" - a serious, wellresourced foreign-affairs show that directly challenges the trend towards the dumbing-down of television news.
"Sky hired someone they knew was a policy-orientated commentator," he says, half an eye following Sky on the wall-mounted plasma screen. "They didn't say, 'Get ready guys, if in the first nine days you haven't increased ratings we might have to make some changes.' I've never even got a whiff of that." He shifts in his seat. "Look, I've never done this before. I stepped out there on the first day, tried to go from zero to 60 in the world of TV. And every indication I have is that they' re thrilled with my evolution."
Rubin's personal contacts and foreign-policy credibility have certainly brought the channel an enhanced authority. Tony Blair, his first-night guest (attracting almost 50,000 viewers), came on because they had got to know each other in Washington. Rubin's direct role in formulating US foreign policy has also given him an outstandingly informed knowledge with which to frame questions. But, as he readily admits, live TV is harder than he thought, and maybe his questions could be a little shorter, his delivery smoother. He also suggests that he may not continue to present for five nights a week.
"I'm still learning," he says, disarmingly. "People have asked, 'Do I want to be like Jeremy Paxman, like John Humphrys?' I'm flattered that they'd say that to someone who's never done this before, but I want the issues to be the debate, not the people. When I had Blair on, I didn't talk to him about all the things other people talk about - he's got plenty of that. It was Iraq for 15 minutes, Iran for 10 minutes, then Syria for 10 minutes. That doesn't happen very often, and I think I challenged him on the substance but without all the bells and whistles of the 'great political interview'."
Is Amanpour offering professional advice? "Yes!" he exclaims forcefully. "Imagine having a wife who's not only going to give her point of view when you come home from work, but one who's probably the single best TV reporter on the planet. She has opinions, like all good spouses, but in this case I have to pay a lot more attention."
In the film Broadcast News, would he identify more with the nervy Albert Brooks character, or the suave anchor played by William Hurt? "Well, being Jewish, I'm probably closer to Albert Brooks - though not in the way that he sweated while presenting live. But I don't think I'm a phoney either, something that William Hurt was in that movie. To me, phoney is repellent."
He misses the buzz of high-level politics, he says, but not the stress, and he now appreciates the time afforded to him to watch his son grow. "There was the intensity and the adrenaline, and the feeling that you were doing something meaningful, but you get older," he says. "Hopefully you become more balanced in your life. I can already feel it - when I went to work for John Kerry last year [in the US elections], I made choices about when I would or wouldn't go on the campaign plane based on whether my wife and child were in town."
Can he be both policy wonk and objective journalist? In government, he explains, his role was as much public advocacy as politics, which entailed explaining policies and persuading the media of their merits. His show, he says, similarly strives to explain international affairs in an interesting, compelling manner. "It's not as big a transition as it appears," he says. "I started as an aide to Congress, helping Congressmen and Senators come up with lines of policy-oriented inquiry. Later, when I worked for Clinton, yes, we had our agenda, but a daily task was figuring out what the journalists were going to ask us. To be convincing in foreign affairs, you need a meaty discussion, to bring out facts and analysis. Besides, I'm having fun."
One friend he has kept from Washington is Sir Christopher Meyer, then British ambassador. Does he consider it wise for Meyer to have gone public this week with his inside view of Anglo-American negotiations over invading Iraq? "Personally, I wouldn't have done that," he says, nor does he intend to write his own dirt-digging memoir. "But he's a friend, and that doesn't mean I'm criticising him; he's got to make his own judgment as to where he's going to walk." He does reject Meyer's assertion that Blair could have used his supposed influence over President Bush to delay the invasion. Besides, "Christopher was for the war, which makes it a trickier line for him to walk."
What of the suggestion that Meyer's role heading the Press Complaints Commission conflicts with his decision to serialise his book in two newspapers, for a reported £250,000? "When I got married, the same kinds of questions were raised," he says dismissively. "'Christiane is the premier international news reporter, and you work for the State Department, isn't that a conflict of interest?' I couldn't believe it - Christiane was regarded as fiercely independent, and I was seen if anything as fiercely loyal to Clinton."
So was there really no pillow talk about work? "Did I talk to her about my views? Yes, as I talked to the New York Times reporter covering the State Department. But Christiane didn't cover what we did in government, she covered what was actually happening in Bosnia and Iraq and the Middle East. In fact, we watched her reports as part of our information gathering to decide what to do." Now that's a power couple.
Still, having jumped to the other side, does he not feel that his avowed liberal politics compromise his objectivity as an interviewer? His views remain hard to pin down, he says: on Iraq, for instance, he supported the invasion but has strong views against its execution. And the potential conflict with Rupert Murdoch's own pro-Republican views? "I'm not on Fox or one of his newspapers," Rubin replies. "I wouldn't have come to Sky if I'd felt there was any whiff of partiality expected of me. Sky is straight."
Besides, he adds, "it's a great thing that Sky News has decided to devote an hour a day to international news, an unusual commitment when others are scaling back". Even if not that many people choose to tune in? "One of our family's mantras is that good TV makes for good ratings," he replies. "Once you lose your focus from good TV, what's the point?"
(Evening Standard, November 9 2005)
. . . AND READ MORE MEDIA INTERVIEWS HERE . . .
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