| From London Calling,
September 1979
NEWS:
A million words a day
by J.M. Laurie
Senior Duty Editor
NEWS, in many ways, is like art. A declaration of war or the assassination
of a world leader are simply obvious -- like an old master or an
exquisite jade carving. Most other world events, statements, international
posturings or local crises are Giacometti figures -- undoubtedly
important, but their appreciation or interest is a matter of personal
choice bound up in our desires or tastes and our cultural and political
environment.
So producing a service of news for the entire world is often an
unenviable task. One man's accuracy is another's bag of lies. One
country's misfortune often brings satisfaction to another. The appalling
boredom that humanity is capable of feeling when told too often
of, say, the death of thousands in an earthquake, eventually has
to be swept away with injections of fresh events, the latest polemics,
even more tragedy.
So perhaps it is just as well that the team of 100 men and women
journalists who, day and night, in eight-hour shifts, man the Newsroom
at Bush House in London, have between them more than 2,000 years
of journalistic experience gained in most corners of the world.
The technology and methods used to gather then produce the news
bulletins for the BBC World Service could fill a book. The vast
network of correspondents - the millions of words that flow in daily,
the deadlines, the studios, the transmitters. Without all these
we would be lost. However, the important thing is what part of this
enormous volume of information should be broadcast.
The need for accuracy is paramount. Other journalists on newspapers
often have the freedom to accept just one source for a story and
perhaps even a doubtful one at that. The BBC does not allow itself
this freedom. Unless it is a staff correspondent reporting, then
at least two trusted sources are the rule. And the frustration of
waiting for a second source to verify an important story has to
be experienced to be believed.
We know, too, that every time a story is broadcast the people actually
involved may well be listening. They will know exactly what has
happened - the newsroom will have, in many cases, perhaps only delayed
accounts of it. It is little comfort to sit in an area that has
been torn by war to hear the BBC World Service tell you that there
is a lull in the fighting while outside your window shells are raining
down.
But perhaps our greatest test is the enormously high standard set
for us by the men who made the World Service what it is. This in
a world where the unvarnished truth sounds vile to the ear turned
by lashings of bias or dull to the ear doped by increasing dosages
of what the trade calls "jazzed up" material.
So it isn't the high technology of the machinery we use to get
the facts to us, then to you, that is the important thing about
the news we bring you. It is the men and women who check and double
check, write and re-write, consider and worry, then finally decide
to go ahead and broadcast what they honestly believe to be the nearest
to the truth that they can get. They are the people who make our
output what we modestly like to think of as the finest radio news
service in the world.
Continues with photos
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