Article
Attention
Character
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Film & TV
4 min read

Traitors holds a mirror up to this obsession of ours

The attitude that is eroding empathy.
The cast and presenter of a competition TV programme assembled in a montage.
BBC.

“So you’re basically calling me Harold Shipman or something?” 

2025 may have barely begun but BBC One’s The Traitors has already offered a strong contender for TV moment of the year. 

If you’re not familiar with the show – and if you aren’t, where have you been? – a group of strangers head off to a castle in Scotland to earn money through a series of challenges while show host Claudia Winkleman smoulders at the camera. Meanwhile, some competitors are designated ‘Traitors’ and can steal the money at the end of the competition, while the rest – the ‘Faithfuls’ – must unmask the ‘Traitors’, banishing one person each day. In return, the Traitors can ‘murder’ one Faithful a night. 

It's stupid and ridiculous and melodramatic. I love it.  

Something that has struck me this series is the inability of contestants to imagine that people might behave differently to them. Early on, Dr. Kas “Definitely-Not-Harold-Shipman” Ahmed raises a toast to a ‘murdered’ Faithful. “That’s sketchy,” everyone immediately thinks. “I wouldn’t have done that, and I’m a Faithful, so Kas MUST BE A TRAITOR!”  

The group votes to banish him shortly afterwards.  

The certainty with which contestants decide someone is a Traitor based on the most minute and innocuous details is incredible. Oooh, Glenda just coughed at an inopportune moment. Obviously a Traitor. Look at Keith taking the stairs two at a time. It’s like he wants to be caught! 

The ‘Faithfuls’ seem completely unable to imagine people might be different from them. That they might think differently, or act differently. There is, in other words, a complete lack of empathy.  

As the always-absolutely-right-about-everything Brené Brown tells us, sympathy is recognising someone else’s perspective. But empathy is feeling with someone; it is sharing that perspective. And it’s empathy that’s needed for human connection. And it’s empathy that is missing on The Traitors. 

All of this ultimately reminds me of the work of Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor. Taylor is arguably the most influential living philosopher. Much of his work – especially in books like Sources of the Self, and A Secular Age – is concerned with explaining modern western societies, their characteristics, and where those characteristics emerge from.  

Taylor claims that these societies have stopped privileging ‘exteriority’ and have started privileging ‘interiority’ instead. 

What on earth does that mean? 

In 1637, René Descartes says “I think, therefore I am,” and western philosophy never recovers. Descartes is looking for a foundation, a starting point from which he can make sense of himself and the world around him. But this is not easy. What’s to say he’s not hallucinating, or being deceived by a demon, so that the world around him isn’t as it seems? 

What’s the one thing he can be sure of? That he thinks!  

The fact he’s even thinking and doubting his senses tells Descartes that he is someone or something who exists and thinks. That sounds obvious, but it gives Descartes the foundation from which he can make sense of reality.  

As a result of Descartes’ philosophy, we imagine that our very ‘selves’ are located entirely ‘within us’ somehow, with the rest of reality found ‘outside’ ourselves. This is a ‘gap’ of sorts, between us and the world, while the interior self becomes the place where the meaning of our existence is discovered and understood. 

Modern life, Taylor says, therefore instils in us a sense of detachment from everyone and everything else. I have my interior world, you have yours. I can never truly know you, and you can never truly know me.  

I could be the next Harold Shipman for all you know.  

But it wasn’t always like this, Taylor argues. Modernity’s preoccupation with the inner self was preceded by a more outside-centred view of the world.  

In this outside-centred worldview, I and the people around me aren’t simply unknowable black holes of interiority. Instead, we are both parts of a broader created realm. And, by virtue of us both being creatures located within something bigger than either of ourselves, this outside-centred view of the world becomes a point of commonality from which we can get to know each other. 

Shared humility leads to connection, in other words.  

All of this, I think, goes some way to explaining why I’m watching a seemingly lovely doctor having a quasi-breakdown over being misconstrued as a serial killer. The Traitors shows how obsessed we have become with our own interiority. We are inward-looking creatures now. As such, we are often slow to recognise the ways in which our shared place within creation only unites us. 

While a little introspection and self-reflection is vital for healthy human flourishing, out-and-out navel-gazing only hinders our ability to connect with those around us. With a little help from Charles Taylor, The Traitors reminds me to get out of my own head and to see beyond myself. To look at the world around me, and to see the people with whom I share it.  

To see them with empathy, not as unknowable voids of interiority, but as fellow creatures walking a shared journey. 

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Article
Comment
Film & TV
Truth and Trust
5 min read

Impartial journalism isn’t possible for the BBC – or anyone else

It’s time to give up the ghost and opt for transparency over impartiality

Lauren Windle is an author, journalist, presenter and public speaker.

A wide angle view of the BBC newsrooms show a starm layout of desks
The BBC newsroom.
BBC.

I wrote 3,000 words explaining the differences between a complementarian and egalitarian relationships – loosely these are the two categories that determine a couple’s position on male headship and female submission in a Christian marriage. I have my opinions, sure. But in this piece, I was neutral. I clearly laid out the arguments for and against each, explained the history, context and nuances, all to equip the reader to make their own mind up.  

I proudly handed the piece to my editor highlighting the careful tightrope of neutrality I had walked. She hesitated: ‘Well, I guess. But it’s clear what position you take.’ I was crushed, all the delicate phrasing and open-handed descriptions and I was still as transparent as the Shard on window clean day. 

No matter how hard we try to present balanced arguments, there is no such thing as unbiased reporting. Even when trying to be ‘fair’ in the way we present a story, we always bring our own perception of ‘fairness’ to the table. And without the wisdom of Solomon (in the cut-the-baby-in-half era), we’re not going to consistently get it right.  

I’ve been a journalist for some years but I’ve never worked in an organisation that claims to be impartial, bar a week’s internship at Science in Action on BBC World Service. I have, however, worked for publications that don’t share my political views. And even with the mandate to write in ‘house style’ there are many subtle decisions a journalist can make to skew reporting towards their personal opinion. 

Phrasing is everything. Am I saying they ‘protested’ or ‘rioted’? Is it ‘reform’ or a ‘crackdown’? Are they an ‘immigrant’, ‘asylum seeker’, ‘refugee’ or ‘expat’? Did she ‘splash around in her swimsuit’ or ‘flaunt her curves on the beach’? There is no neutral choice of words or phrasing. Every micro-decision a journalist makes is based, consciously or unconsciously, on the perspective that they have and are trying to impart on you.  

Then there’s choosing which topics to write about in the first place, selecting sources to quote from and statistics to reference and deciding how to frame the headlines. With the vast body of data available online, you can always find a person or stat to back up your belief. None of this can be done without a hint of your own background, culture, and worldview. 

It is through this lens – my belief in the fallacy of impartiality – that I’ve followed the latest fallout at the BBC. After an internal dossier was leaked, it came to light that a Panorama documentary called ‘Trump: A Second Chance?’ that was broadcast not long before 2024’s presidential election, had misleadingly edited a speech he made on January 6 2021. The speech was spliced in such a way as to suggest he had egged on the assault on the Capitol. Shamir Shah, the BBC chairman, acknowledged the fault and said that the editing ‘did give the impression of a direct call for violent action.’  

The BBC has always been plagued by allegations that it is not living up to its Royal Charter legally requiring it to be impartial. Interestingly, there are many examples of these complaints coming in from both the left and right sides of the political spectrum. The term ‘impartiality’ in this context doesn’t mean stripping all viewpoint from its reporting, as the organisation acknowledges the impossibility of that task, but it does say that it strives for balance, fairness and due weight. This is a standard they fell short of in their reporting of Trump’s address. 

In this, it is undeniably at fault. Even the most questionable of news outlets, that do publish quotes out of context, would acknowledge that knowingly editing or adapting quotes and footage to support their own agenda is totally unacceptable. Regardless of a reporter’s own opinion, readers and viewers want to hear a person speak in their own words.  

The wider question this raises for me is: why we are still claiming any news outlet is impartial in the first place? There’s a sense of safety with both right- and left-wing media, that openly acknowledges its own agenda. If you pick up the Guardian, you understand that you are reading about the world from a socially liberal political stance while tuning into GB News where they champion British values and challenge ‘woke culture’ will bring you something very different. 

I think the BBC as an institution is brilliant, important and necessary but not impartial. When people decry the reporting choices or phrasing of BBC reporting as biased, my response is always ‘what do you expect?’. There are important checks and balances, like rights of reply and offering opposing positions, that help round out a story, but they don’t strip it of opinion. I think it’s time to give up the ghost and opt for transparency over impartiality. 

The honest response is to acknowledge that, like every other person who relays a story, the BBC cannot resist the siren call of opinion. To claim it can, when audiences can plainly see the inconsistencies across its platforms, is both disingenuous and outdated. Instead, perhaps they could work to a mission statement along these lines: ‘We are committed to fairness, accuracy, and transparency. We value robust reporting and careful fact checking. We recognise that complete neutrality is impossible, but we strive to reflect the world as truthfully and inclusively as we can.’ This transparency would at least free up 90 per cent of people who write in to BBC’s Point of View to complain about its reporting.  

Years ago, I was in conversation with the deputy editor of one of the big tabloids when he said that, while he thought his paper was great, no one should use it as their sole source of news. I appreciate his transparency. I think if any of us only consume news from one outlet, even if that is the BBC, we are selling ourselves short. Our pursuit of and clamouring for ultimate truth is a God-given and spiritual desire, so the wise would vary their sources. 

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