Post by Teddy Bear on Oct 19, 2007 23:24:08 GMT
The article below, copied from today's Telegraph, who describes the author as a 'sometime business editor at the Beeb' highlights some of the waste and inefficieny that is endemic to the Beeb.
Too much management at the BBC
By Jeff Randall
Last Updated: 12:01am BST 19/10/2007
A senior BBC broadcaster advised me: "There's only one organisation in Britain where morale is permanently lower than here: the Prison Officers' Association." After yesterday's confirmation of redundancies at BBC News, many of the corporation's dispirited journalists are looking for get-out-of-jail cards.
While BBC3 — the channel for freak shows, such as F**k Off, I'm A Fat Man — is protected, mainstream current affairs programmes have been told to wield the axe. Newsnight, with an annual budget of £8 million, must lose 20 per cent over the next five years.
Job losses have been ordered also at Today, BBC Radio's flagship of intelligent debate. It survives on £5 million a year, but is expected to lose a further 10 per cent of staff.
Reflecting on management's apparent love affair with BBC3's vulgarity, a Today insider told me: "Perhaps we should rebrand some of our slots, starting with F**k Off, I'm A Hairy Thought For The Day.
If this sounds like special pleading for former colleagues, let's be clear: consolidation of many BBC News reporting jobs is long overdue.
There is daily duplication, which not only squanders resources but frequently borders on the harassment of outside sources. Director general Mark Thompson is right to call for a more integrated newsroom.
When I was the BBC's business editor (2001-05), Standard Life's communications chief telephoned me at the end of a very busy day to beg for help. "We've had about 80 press calls and 35 of those have been from the BBC. Is there no co-ordination?"
I was too embarrassed to tell him the truth. Once a big story hits the wires, desk-bound BBC news-gatherers simply hit the phones.
In the case of Standard Life, it had taken calls from the BBC's business unit, several shows at Five Live and Radio Four, regional radio outlets, BBC Scotland (lots from there), BBC Online, Breakfast TV, the One O'clock News, the Six O'clock News and the Ten O'Clock News. Oh yes, and News 24.
On another occasion, I was in Calais to cover a Eurotunnel shareholders' meeting for the Ten O'Clock News. I arrived to find swarms of BBC reporters, producers and film crews falling over each other; the corporation had sent more people than the rest of the British media put together. In the evening, we filled three tables in a local restaurant.
The unions will huff and puff, but the vast majority of BBC News staff know that the way they cover many stories is madness (12 turned up at the launch of Chris Huhne's tilt for the Lib Dem leadership). On the day of Alistair Darling's Pre-Budget Report, I was asked by six different BBC outlets to be a pundit. This nonsense should have been stopped years ago, so well done Thompson for grasping the nettle.
But there, I'm afraid, we part company on the management of the BBC's finances. The corporation is a remarkably well funded organisation that is having to undergo surgery only because it tries to do too much, cannot contemplate an expansion idea without throwing money at it, spends an outrageous amount administering itself and wants to dominate every area it enters.
The BBC is obsessed with reaching out to minority audiences, yet feels it needs mass-market ratings to justify itself. But it is also committed to high-quality, distinctive, factual programming that is not provided by the commercial sector. These goals often pull in opposite directions.
Jonathan Ross has been pilloried for his £6 million-a-year deal with the BBC. But why blame him? If Auntie threw a similar package my way, I'd try to catch it. The fault lies squarely with the Beeb's top brass for distorting priorities.
Does nobody ask: is it right that we pay Ross 20 per cent per year more than Today's entire annual budget? Is this really public-service broadcasting?
Every January, about £3.5 billion crashes through the front door of Television Centre. That is more than enough to deliver world-class news, current affairs and documentaries. These are, and should continue to be, the BBC's gold standard. In many ways, they define the corporation's responsibilities. What's more, they are relatively inexpensive to deliver.
If Thompson closed Today and Newsnight completely, he would save £13 million, less than 0.4 per cent of his total budget. Chipping away at them makes no sense. Quite the reverse: these are much-admired shows from which the BBC gets the biggest bang for its buck. By any measure, they deserve more support.
The money that Thompson is hoping to claw back through the elimination of newsroom clutter should be reinvested in blue-chip journalism, not squandered on crackpot programming for the lowest common denominator.
Talking of which, BBC3 costs £100 million-plus a year. That's the price, it seems, for chasing young people who prefer internet chatrooms and mobile phone services to conventional television. To attract their attention, the channel serves up 34-Stone Teenager Revisited and Me and My Man-Breasts. It has the whiff of a Victorian circus. Coming soon: Gigantic Private Parts.
OK, I made that one up, but how long before a BBC3 producer is tempted? When Thompson says: "I love the BBC and what it stands for", does he really mean a public parade of hirsute, obese, androgynous unfortunates?
One way of gauging the BBC's value for money is to count how much it spends on running itself, i.e., costs not related to programmes. How much cash does the BBC burn on the paraphernalia of management?
The answer, buried deep in its 2006-07 report and accounts, is 11.5 per cent of what it spends on public-service broadcasting. That is 11.5 per cent of £3,316 million, or about £360 million. You can hire teams of news journalists for such a sum.
Ah, says the Beeb, it may seem like a lot, but it used to be much worse. In 1999, the corporation spent 24 per cent of its budget on stuff unassociated with television, radio or online output. Boy, they must have been tucking into some pretty special biscuits in all those planning meetings.
Yes, Thompson is to be commended for narrowing the slice taken by administration. But it's not quite as good as it seems, because the corporation's expenditure on broadcasting has increased significantly since the free-wheeling days of Greg Dyke, so in money terms the reduction in the cost of management is not nearly as striking.
In my time at the Beeb, it was blowing more than £8 million a year on a "governance unit", which had 30 staff (doing what?). Then, of course, there were diversity tsars, the policy-guideline police and extraordinary waste on internal communications, such as a glossy magazine just for news staff.
In fairness to Thompson, heads have rolled over the "Crowngate" fiasco and other television fakery. But the BBC still feels like an organisation bursting with management, but with nobody really in charge.
By Jeff Randall
Last Updated: 12:01am BST 19/10/2007
A senior BBC broadcaster advised me: "There's only one organisation in Britain where morale is permanently lower than here: the Prison Officers' Association." After yesterday's confirmation of redundancies at BBC News, many of the corporation's dispirited journalists are looking for get-out-of-jail cards.
While BBC3 — the channel for freak shows, such as F**k Off, I'm A Fat Man — is protected, mainstream current affairs programmes have been told to wield the axe. Newsnight, with an annual budget of £8 million, must lose 20 per cent over the next five years.
Job losses have been ordered also at Today, BBC Radio's flagship of intelligent debate. It survives on £5 million a year, but is expected to lose a further 10 per cent of staff.
Reflecting on management's apparent love affair with BBC3's vulgarity, a Today insider told me: "Perhaps we should rebrand some of our slots, starting with F**k Off, I'm A Hairy Thought For The Day.
If this sounds like special pleading for former colleagues, let's be clear: consolidation of many BBC News reporting jobs is long overdue.
There is daily duplication, which not only squanders resources but frequently borders on the harassment of outside sources. Director general Mark Thompson is right to call for a more integrated newsroom.
When I was the BBC's business editor (2001-05), Standard Life's communications chief telephoned me at the end of a very busy day to beg for help. "We've had about 80 press calls and 35 of those have been from the BBC. Is there no co-ordination?"
I was too embarrassed to tell him the truth. Once a big story hits the wires, desk-bound BBC news-gatherers simply hit the phones.
In the case of Standard Life, it had taken calls from the BBC's business unit, several shows at Five Live and Radio Four, regional radio outlets, BBC Scotland (lots from there), BBC Online, Breakfast TV, the One O'clock News, the Six O'clock News and the Ten O'Clock News. Oh yes, and News 24.
On another occasion, I was in Calais to cover a Eurotunnel shareholders' meeting for the Ten O'Clock News. I arrived to find swarms of BBC reporters, producers and film crews falling over each other; the corporation had sent more people than the rest of the British media put together. In the evening, we filled three tables in a local restaurant.
The unions will huff and puff, but the vast majority of BBC News staff know that the way they cover many stories is madness (12 turned up at the launch of Chris Huhne's tilt for the Lib Dem leadership). On the day of Alistair Darling's Pre-Budget Report, I was asked by six different BBC outlets to be a pundit. This nonsense should have been stopped years ago, so well done Thompson for grasping the nettle.
But there, I'm afraid, we part company on the management of the BBC's finances. The corporation is a remarkably well funded organisation that is having to undergo surgery only because it tries to do too much, cannot contemplate an expansion idea without throwing money at it, spends an outrageous amount administering itself and wants to dominate every area it enters.
The BBC is obsessed with reaching out to minority audiences, yet feels it needs mass-market ratings to justify itself. But it is also committed to high-quality, distinctive, factual programming that is not provided by the commercial sector. These goals often pull in opposite directions.
Jonathan Ross has been pilloried for his £6 million-a-year deal with the BBC. But why blame him? If Auntie threw a similar package my way, I'd try to catch it. The fault lies squarely with the Beeb's top brass for distorting priorities.
Does nobody ask: is it right that we pay Ross 20 per cent per year more than Today's entire annual budget? Is this really public-service broadcasting?
Every January, about £3.5 billion crashes through the front door of Television Centre. That is more than enough to deliver world-class news, current affairs and documentaries. These are, and should continue to be, the BBC's gold standard. In many ways, they define the corporation's responsibilities. What's more, they are relatively inexpensive to deliver.
If Thompson closed Today and Newsnight completely, he would save £13 million, less than 0.4 per cent of his total budget. Chipping away at them makes no sense. Quite the reverse: these are much-admired shows from which the BBC gets the biggest bang for its buck. By any measure, they deserve more support.
The money that Thompson is hoping to claw back through the elimination of newsroom clutter should be reinvested in blue-chip journalism, not squandered on crackpot programming for the lowest common denominator.
Talking of which, BBC3 costs £100 million-plus a year. That's the price, it seems, for chasing young people who prefer internet chatrooms and mobile phone services to conventional television. To attract their attention, the channel serves up 34-Stone Teenager Revisited and Me and My Man-Breasts. It has the whiff of a Victorian circus. Coming soon: Gigantic Private Parts.
OK, I made that one up, but how long before a BBC3 producer is tempted? When Thompson says: "I love the BBC and what it stands for", does he really mean a public parade of hirsute, obese, androgynous unfortunates?
One way of gauging the BBC's value for money is to count how much it spends on running itself, i.e., costs not related to programmes. How much cash does the BBC burn on the paraphernalia of management?
The answer, buried deep in its 2006-07 report and accounts, is 11.5 per cent of what it spends on public-service broadcasting. That is 11.5 per cent of £3,316 million, or about £360 million. You can hire teams of news journalists for such a sum.
Ah, says the Beeb, it may seem like a lot, but it used to be much worse. In 1999, the corporation spent 24 per cent of its budget on stuff unassociated with television, radio or online output. Boy, they must have been tucking into some pretty special biscuits in all those planning meetings.
Yes, Thompson is to be commended for narrowing the slice taken by administration. But it's not quite as good as it seems, because the corporation's expenditure on broadcasting has increased significantly since the free-wheeling days of Greg Dyke, so in money terms the reduction in the cost of management is not nearly as striking.
In my time at the Beeb, it was blowing more than £8 million a year on a "governance unit", which had 30 staff (doing what?). Then, of course, there were diversity tsars, the policy-guideline police and extraordinary waste on internal communications, such as a glossy magazine just for news staff.
In fairness to Thompson, heads have rolled over the "Crowngate" fiasco and other television fakery. But the BBC still feels like an organisation bursting with management, but with nobody really in charge.