OPINION – For all the brickbats thrown its way, the BBC remains something extraordinary, a national treasure that defines who we are.
In the age of algorithms, it stands as an organic connection to the British people and wider society.
In certain places within it’s vast output and rambling structure it’s still very human.
You can mock it, question it, even threaten to scrap it, but take it away and Britain would feel a little less like itself.
The BBC represents a very British umbrella, under which we can huddle in the rain. The pips before the news, the opening notes of EastEnders and the liminal ambience of the Shipping Forecast are completely unique— Dogger, Fisher, German Bight. Pardon the cliches, this is in part a love letter if you haven’t guessed.
The BBC has given us a common legacy of reference in our lifetimes, and a mirror to the wild eccentricity of the complex British character – Del Boy, Captain Mainwaring, Basil Fawlty, Edmund Blackadder and David Brent. In part, they are us. Netflix could not achieve this in a trillion downloads.
It has covered every coronation and crisis since most of us were born. It’s the queue we all stand in, a rare place where people from every corner of the country still listen and learn from one another.
Critics often call it out of touch, bloated, or biased. But what other organisation could be simultaneously accused of being too left-wing and too right-wing, too metropolitan and too parochial, and still command the world’s respect?
The BBC has never been perfect, why does it have to be? We are certainly not. But its value lies in its ambition to serve everyone: to educate, to inform, to entertain. To make us feel that we belong to the same story. It does this heroically, everyday, so well, we might not even realise. Like the hard working vacum cleaner in our undestairs cupboard, when do we ever thank it? (The cliches’ are going a little weird now, but thats what love does to you right?)
Here in East Yorkshire, we see that mission alive every day. The BBC building in Queen’s Gardens in Hull stands as a symbol of that commitment, glass and light reflecting a city that has long been ignored by London, yet never by Look North.
For decades, BBC Radio Humberside has given a voice to our region, telling the stories that others overlook: fishermen, factory workers, farmers, artists, volunteers. It’s our soundscape.
And then there’s Peter Levy, the man who somehow manages to make the 6:30 news always professional, comforting and mischievous. When he’s on, he isn’t just presenting the news, he’s somehow representing us.
The BBC’s greatness isn’t only in what it broadcasts but in what it gives back. It has trained generations of journalists, filmmakers, writers, and technicians. It has preserved our history, championed new voices, and told the world who we are, often better than we know ourselves.
Yes, it can be infuriating. Yes, it needs reform, and it gets things wrong. But amid the endless criticism, even the jabs from President Trump, it’s worth remembering what the BBC still means. It’s Britain’s conscience, its curiosity, its creativity.
As for strong feelings. I have two loves in my life, that evoke these thoughts. The BBC and the Monarchy. Like the latter, the former needs to be adept at navigating the new World. The reform the BBC needs is to make it crystal clear that it doesn’t belong to politicians or executives. It belongs to us, to every listener, viewer, and taxpayer who has ever switched on and felt connected.
God save the BBC.