With less than three weeks to go, who is winning the election? Not the political one, which seems a foregone conclusion, but the battle of the broadcasters.
There is nothing like a general election campaign to bring out the best and worst of the stars of television and radio. And this snap election has seen a condensed showcase of TV debates and one-on-one grillings, as the main political players queue up to prostrate themselves before the nation.
Such exposure can undo politicians; it was the lure of the studio spotlight that has probably finished off Rishi Sunak after he fled Normandy’s D-Day commemorations early in his haste to make an appointment with ITV.
The intensity of the debate can also make or break broadcasters’ reputations and careers, but those trying too hard should be aware that the scramble for the “gotcha moment” does not necessarily result in good listening or viewing.
The sound of elbows being sharpened on the Today programme on Thursday was grating, particularly for older listeners who remembered the warmth of Brian Redhead or the quick wit of John Humphrys.
Both Amol Rajan and Emma Barnett are relative election rookies and it showed in their clashes with, respectively, Pat McFadden and David Cameron, a couple of seasoned pros on the circuit.
Smoothie-chops Cameron emerged completely unscathed from Barnett’s irksome “if I may, Lord Cameron” interruptions to halt his flow.
Later, Rajan failed to lay a glove on Labour’s éminence grise, at one point pleading with him to “stop laughing” as McFadden effortlessly dodged scrutiny of Labour’s tax plans.
Bizarrely, Rajan drew attention to his interviewee’s “pivots” (also known as not answering the question), which surely demonstrated the skills of the politician rather than the presenter.
More forensic was Beth Rigby, Sky’s political editor, in her back-to-back quizzing of Keir Starmer then Sunak on Wednesday night. But the circus accompanying the interviews, in front of a live (and lively) audience in Grimsby, somewhat undermined the seriousness of the occasion.
In scenes reminiscent of the sixth form common room, Rigby’s colleague Sophy Ridge felt compelled to hug her in front of the cameras in a “didn’t she do well” display of over-emoting.
And then she asked Rigby how she’d prepared for the big event, as if it was a boxing match, which it may have been in political terms but still all part of the day job for a political editor.
Imagine Robin Day, fresh from combat with Margaret Thatcher, sharing with viewers his tips for his great Panorama confrontations. Or Humphrys getting a verbal cuddle from Jim Naughtie post-interrogation.
Day marked the dawn of the golden age of political inquisition and the transition from a deferential age to a more levelling exchange between equals. But has this gone too far, with the broadcaster these days talking down to his or her quarry?
As Willie Whitelaw, Tory grandee and former Home Secretary under Thatcher, put it: “I think there are occasions when it almost looks as if it’s a sort of competition, that the person who’s doing the interviewing is trying to show that they are cleverer than the person they’re interviewing”.
Perhaps this only works if the interviewer is, in fact, cleverer, but while many of our current top operators are undoubtedly whip-smart – pity the politician trading blows with Today’s Nick Robinson, for example – it takes more than intellectual self-confidence to triumph in any clash.
What Day brought to his interviews was not just encyclopaedic knowledge but also charm and, of course, humour, both qualities that are difficult to acquire with experience if lacking in the first place.
Even Jeremy Paxman, at his rottweiler heights, had a twinkle that is lost on some of the smug and self-satisfied breed now dominating the airwaves.
It’s a surprise revisiting Paxman’s most famous set-to, in 1997 (after that May’s election) against Michael Howard, who was asked 13 times whether he had threatened to overrule a prisons chief when he was Home Secretary.
At one point, Paxman said, “I’m sorry, I’m going to be frightfully rude but…”. By the end of the exacting but also teasing encounter, Paxman might not have got an answer but he was smiling.
Who in this decade, this century, comes close? Not everyone’s cup of tea for sure, but on the grounds that he is the most feared: Andrew Neil.
Although the veteran journalist no longer has his BBC prime-time platform, he can still be found eviscerating the hapless at his new slot on Times Radio.
It was Adrian Ramsay, co-leader of the Green Party, who came a cropper this week, as he tried to defend his party’s wealth tax against Neil who, off the top of his head, happens to know how many millionaires (42,000) left France when it introduced something similar.
No wonder Boris Johnson, coward that he was, refused persistent invitations to go head-to-head with Neil during the 2019 election.
That didn’t harm Johnson at the time, who went on to win a landslide, but it reflected poorly on his character that he avoided what has become, in Neil’s words, “an important part of our election process, a democratic test seen in few other major democracies”.
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