Explainer
Creed
Film & TV
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Truth and Trust
6 min read

The BBC and the quest for Truth

Space for neutrality is shrinking; two French philosophers explain why

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

BBC News logo.
BBC.

Watching American news always feels very different from the British version. Changing channels from CNN to Fox News feels like you're switching to a different universe altogether, as on each one you're getting a very different interpretation of events. The BBC has always been thought to rise above this. In the UK and beyond, through the World Service, the Beeb has, until recently, been viewed as an oasis of impartial, authoritative reporting in a world of propaganda and state-run media.

Now, allegations of bias, with evidence that BBC editors doctored a speech of Donald Trump to make it sound worse than it was, one-sided coverage of transgender issues, and perceived anti-Israel prejudice, have led to doubts about the truthfulness of BBC reporting, and the resignations of the Director General Tim Davie and its CEO, Deborah Turness.

It does seem that the BBC has fallen into an echo chamber, reflecting the generally liberal, metropolitan left-leaning ethos of the chattering classes. And that is a problem, especially for a taxpayer-funded corporation. At the same time, it is much harder for media companies these days to be neutral. Once upon a time, there was perhaps a broad space for impartiality and a general trust that institutions like the BBC could be trusted to tell the truth. Trying to be politically and culturally balanced these days, however, is like trying to walk along an ever narrowing mountain arête with an increasingly slim path of independence, while the steep and sheer slopes of the culture wars beckon on either side. The idea of a media platform maintaining strict neutrality is becoming harder and harder to sustain these days.

In Britain, that narrow arête has become smaller and smaller, with the BBC perceived as falling on one side of the debate, and GB News emerging to offer a perspective from the other, offering different assessments on what's going on, increasingly mirroring their American counterparts.

Now there is a reason why this space for neutrality is narrowing, rooted in cultural and philosophical developments over the past 50 years or more.

Foucault’s challenge

In the 1970s and early 80s, French philosopher Michel Foucault taught a whole generation of students - and his ideas became embedded in universities across the world - that claims to truth were in essence assertions of power. Foucault had been a Marxist, believing that power had to be wrested away from the hands of the ruling classes and placed in the hands of the proletariat. After the Paris student riots of the late 1960s, he changed his mind and started to believe that power is never concentrated in one place. It flows in multiple directions in any human relationship or institution. In such interactions, all kinds of power dynamics are at play, and you need to be very watchful to notice how they work. Power produces ‘truth’ - in other words a justification for its existence - and such ‘truth’ produces power, in that this ‘truth’ reinforces the power relations it was designed to justify. He often claimed not to be making a moral judgement – in fact moral judgments were irrelevant: “My point”, he said, “is not that everything is bad, but that everything is dangerous.” If all truth is power, then nothing is neutral. Everything is dangerous. You can’t trust anyone.

The result is that there is really no such thing as a neutral, absolute truth. All claims to truth come from a particular perspective on things. There is no ‘view from nowhere’ that stands above all our limited perspectives, and therefore the idea of finding ultimate absolute truth is fruitless.

Foucault’s target was the idea inherited from the Enlightenment that we could find truth through impartial rational inquiry. So for him, the idea that something like the BBC was an arbiter of neutral, rational truth was a mirage all along. The irony is that if the BBC has drifted into a left-leaning echo chamber, it has wandered into space deeply influenced by Foucault’s ideas – ideas which by definition make its claim to any kind of neutrality increasingly difficult to sustain.

The prevalence of these ideas explains why it is harder and harder for news outlets to remain neutral, or claim to offer the truth of things. 

Pascal’s perspective

So what does Christian theology say to this? At one point in his Pensées, another French philosopher, Blaise Pascal (unlike Foucault, a Christian one from the seventeenth century), says to the Foucault-type sceptic of his own day:

“I maintain that a perfectly genuine sceptic has never existed. Nature backs up helpless reason and stops it going so wildly astray.”

In other words, it's impossible to be a total sceptic about truth. Even the most progressive philosopher puts the kettle on and expects it to boil. He wakes in the morning expecting the sun to rise. There is such a thing as capital-T Truth and an order to the world that we didn’t create, and can be relied upon. We simply have to receive it and be grateful for it.

So far, so conservative. Yet Pascal then casts doubt on our ability to know that truth absolutely:

“Let us then concede to the sceptics what they have so often proclaimed, that truth lies beyond our reach and is an unattainable quarry, that it is not to be found here on earth, but really belongs in heaven, lying in the lap of God, to be known only in so far as it pleases him to reveal it.”

Perhaps surprisingly, Pascal agrees with Foucault, that absolute truth is unattainable to us here, at least if we think we can find it by some process of impartial human reason. Only God knows the truth. Our perspectives are inevitably limited and the only way we can know the ultimate truth is if it is revealed to us.

Which points to the heart of what a Christian believes about truth - that ultimately it is not so much rational and propositional but personal. Jesus does not say ‘here is the truth’, or ‘this is the truth’, but ‘I am the truth’.

Truth, in other words, is not just something you read on a page. It is not the product of brainy people sitting in a room analysing the data. Data always has to be interpreted and that's when fallible, inevitable and unspoken human prejudice creeps in. Truth is personal. You see it in a life – most perfectly in the life of Jesus. And if it is to be found here and now, it comes out of a life that has learned to be like Jesus, truthful in all kinds of simple personal interactions, honest even when it's inconvenient, generous even when you have little to give.

Truth, in Christian understanding, is a quality of life. It is not something that can be expected to arise from some august body of clever people – the Royal Society or the BBC. The BBC, like ITN, GB News, CNN, and Fox – and like the rest of us - will always be biased - and maybe it’s better to acknowledge that than try to hide it. To have a limited take on things is part of the human condition.

The only way we can rise above that to the ‘truth that comes from above’ as the Bible calls it, a truth which is “pure, peaceable, gentle, full of mercy, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy” is the spiritual path of inner growth, through prayer, the practice of goodness and compassion.

Truth is not something we possess but something we grow towards. When the BBC – or any corporation for that matter - embraces the spiritual path of yearning for the ‘truth that comes from above’, then we might get nearer to trusting it again. 

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Article
Assisted dying
Death & life
Ethics
Politics
4 min read

What will stop the culture of death that libertarian Britain has embraced?

Now we’re allowed to end life with impunity

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

Diane Abbott speaks in the assisted dying debate.
Dianne Abbott MP speaks in the assisted dying debate.

Just a few days apart, two debates recently took place in the House of Commons concerning life and death. In the first, MPs voted to decriminalise late-term abortions. In the second, they voted for assisted dying. Both times, the reach of death grew a little longer.

Imagine a mother about to have a baby who is suddenly having grave doubts about whether she can manage a new child as the moment draws near. It’s not hard to sympathise with many in this situation, but rather than recommend she goes through with the birth, and perhaps putting the baby up for adoption for childless parents desperate to adopt, we now have passed legislation that allows us to terminate the baby’s life instead. Proponents argued this was to relieve a small number of women who had been prosecuted for late-term abortions. The reality is, however, that it will probably become more common. In the debate, Jim Shannon MP pointed out that in New Zealand, in the first year after their parliament voted the same way, late-term abortions increased by 43 per cent.

A baby a week before and a week after birth are virtually identical. Yet as a result of this bill, it will not be a criminal act to end the life of the first, but it will be to do the same to the second. What’s the betting that the logic of this will stretch before long to allowing parents to terminate the lives of newborn babies with a new limit – say up to one month after birth? The arguments will be exactly the same – sympathy for distressed parents who suddenly realise they cannot cope with a new life on their hands, especially if the baby is discovered to be flawed in some way. When emotional sympathy, personal choice and the rights of the mother over the baby become the only moral arguments, the logic is inevitable.

Despite the argument shifting rapidly against the Terminally Ill Adults Bill – the vote passed by 314 votes to 291, with 32 MPs apparently having changed their minds - it now looks likely that this second bill will pass into law in a few years’ time, despite scrutiny in the Lords.

Here on Seen & Unseen, we have scrutinised the arguments put forward for assisted dying over past months. We have argued about the unintended consequences for the many of permitting assisted dying for the few. In The Times a while ago, I argued that if ‘dignity’ means autonomy — my ability to choose the place, the time and the manner in which I die — there is no logical reason why we should refuse that right to someone who, for whatever reason feels their life is no longer worth living, however trivial we may feel their problems to be. With this understanding of dignity as unlimited choice, the slippery slope is not just likely, it is philosophically inevitable.

In both cases the logic of the arguments used means the march of our ability to bring about death will not stop with these measures, despite their proponents’ assurances that safeguards are in place.

These two votes reminded me of something Pope John Paul II once wrote. In an encyclical, Evangelium Vitae – the Gospel of Life - he warned that “we are facing an enormous and dramatic clash between what he called a “culture of death” and a “culture of life”.

He warned that this “culture of death” would be “actively fostered by powerful cultural, economic and political currents which encourage an idea of society excessively concerned with efficiency.” It is, in effect, he argued, “a war of the powerful against the weak: a life which would require greater acceptance, love and care is considered useless, or held to be an intolerable burden, and is therefore rejected in one way or another. A person who, because of illness, handicap or, more simply, just by existing, compromises the well-being or lifestyle of those who are more favoured tends to be looked upon as an enemy to be resisted or eliminated. In this way a kind of ‘conspiracy against life’ is unleashed.”

They were strong words, and in the UK at least, back in 1995, might have seemed alarmist. Yet I couldn't help thinking of them as these two bills passed through the UK’s national parliament. In both cases, the bills were introduced very rapidly with little time for serious moral deliberation. Both depended on emotional appeals to a small number of admittedly distressing cases without serious consideration for the wider cultural and philosophical ramifications of these seismic moves. Both encouraged the steady encroachment of death on demand.

What concerns me is what these bills say about the kind of culture we are becoming. MND sufferer Michael Wenham makes the point powerfully that this is all about autonomy and independence, a spurious kind of compassion, and the fact that palliative care is more expensive than subtly encouraging the dying to take their own life. Looking behind the arguments for compassion, it's not hard to spot the iron law of libertarian ideas of freedom, where individuals have absolute rights over their own lives and bodies that trump everything else. This is the kind of libertarian freedom that prizes personal autonomy above everything else and therefore sees our neighbours not so much as gifts to be valued and cherished, but limitations, or even threats to our precious personal freedoms.

Pope John Paul was right. It does seem that we are opting for a culture of death. And my fear is that it won’t stop here.

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
 
Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief