Breaking down in tears

Not long after the trouble in Libya began Tony Livesy on late night Radio 5 was interviewing people who had managed to get back to Heathrow. One man was clearly a profoundly unsatisfactory interviewee: invited to tell of his torment, he said no, he was fine, there had been no real danger, he was happy to be in a hotel before travelling the last leg home next morning.

Mind you, I metaphorically tapped the side of my nose when he said home was in Hereford, home of the SAS. And thought Ha ha! when news of the abortive ‘diplomatic mission’ came through a couple of days later.

On another occasion I noticed a similar disappointment on The World Tonight with those interviewees who were too calm about the Japanese earthquake & Pacific-wide tsunami. And thought back to the contrast between Irish & British reactions to the reporting of problems caused by the earthquake.

 Some days there seems to be nothing on BBC speech radio programmes except tales of woe;  the audience for tv programmes such as Who Do You think You Are? watch with only one question in mind: When will the celebrity cry?

I can remember the days when the camera used to turn away from tears – to watch would have been ghoulish, intrusive & heartless, sprung from the same impulse which drew crowds to Bedlam or the freak shows of old.

Then John Freeman made irascible old Gilbert Harding cry – or at least made him catch his voice & wipe something from his cheek.

And Desmond Wilcox kept the cameras indecently rolling during an edition of Man Alive even though the subject was crying. That really caused an outcry, probably a BBC investigation of its own policies too.

But, another measure of how things have changed since the Bad Old Days is that a great interview now is one which demands we shake our heads & make ourselves human by empathising with the victim .

I can be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be diminished by it - Maya Angelou