When
you make a television programme about a contentious
issue the ideal outcome is for those on both sides of
the argument to feel they've been fairly treated. The
second best outcome is for both sides to be completely
fed up. Not for the first time in my life, regarding
What Ron Said (BBC1, Monday, 22.35), I'm happy to settle
for second best.
It has been suggested that this programme
is my way of trying to rehabilitate Ron Atkinson after
the disgrace of his racist outburst about Marcel Desailly
in April. The idea that I could somehow commandeer BBC1
airtime in this way to redeem my friends or damage my
enemies is, to say the least, absurd.
The germ of the idea for the programme
actually came from Anna Ford, of all people. She suggested
to the controller of BBC1 that a film showing Ron Atkinson
attending a race awareness course might be interesting.
Hearing that there might be an appetite for something
about Big Ron's fall from grace I put in a bid to do
it.
So it was that I, and Rob Finighan
of Aspect Television, found ourselves at the gates of
Ron's house in Barnt Green, Birmingham. I'd never met
Ron before but I do know his friend, and former producer
at ITV, Jeff Farmer. Jeff had been here before with
Ron: "It was me who had to deal with it when he
called [Francesco] Totti a twat," he said ruefully,
"mind you, most people agreed with him on that."
This, obviously, was more serious.
A reminder, since it's often been misquoted, of exactly
what Ron Atkinson said about Marcel Desailly: "He's
what is known in some schools as a fucking lazy thick
nigger." And, as you'll hear on Monday night if
you watch the programme, it sounds even worse than it
reads.
Our film extends the idea of taking
him to a race awareness class. We took him to Alabama
to try to give him an insight into the word he used.
At that first meeting he gave me hope that he was prepared
to do some learning. He said John Barnes had told him
he wasn't a racist because a racist is someone who won't
give a black man a chance. "And that's right,"
he declared confidently. "But Ron," I replied,
"it's not that simple, because a slave plantation
owner could argue he's giving a black man a chance in
employing him."
"Oh, right," admitted a disappointed
Ron, "I suppose that's true."
So I hoped he'd undergo some kind of
conversion in the deep south. I hoped in vain. For one
thing it's next to impossible to get him to talk about
anything other than football. But the main problem is
that he is still, in a sense, in denial. It wasn't him.
It was - to use his favourite word for it - an aberration.
As the producer, Petal Felix - who is black - puts it:
"It's as though the whole business was nothing
to do with him. He couldn't admit it was something inside
him coming out when he used those words."
The other problem was that Ron's motivation,
not unreasonably, was to get his job back rather than
explore the history of the n-word and what that might
reveal about him and the world in general. Petal puts
his reluctance to engage with the material down to a
mixture of arrogance and fear. I wouldn't disagree with
that, but I also have some admiration for his inability
to even feign interest - he's just not dishonest enough.
My big fear was that, being the consummate performer,
he'd act it all out, turn on the waterworks and proclaim
that he'd undergone a road-to-Damascus moment. A lesser
man - or, perhaps, a cleverer man - would have taken
that opportunity. Not Ron.
So, will he get his job back? I doubt
it. There's a moment in the film when Ron, under merciless
attack from Darcus Howe, asks, "whatever happened
to forgiveness?" It's a fair question. Pat Younge
is an executive in BBC Sport. He is black. He poses
this question: "Is it a sign of progress that a
man can never work again because he used racist language?
Or is that just an example of another kind of intolerance?"
Hepburn Harrison-Graham is also a senior
producer in BBC Sport. He is also black. His answer
to Pat's question is clear: "I say it's progress.
I absolutely say it's progress. Atkinson's a relic,
a dinosaur. He should never be allowed back. And the
programme should never have been made."
"But," I point out, "apart
from the fact you've not even seen the programme, it
had a black producer and a black commissioning editor."
I suppose if I'm shocked that I'm having
this conversation it's because I must have been carrying
the idiotic, not to say racist, assumption that black
people, having similar colour skin, also have similar
opinions. "We absolutely do not share the same
opinions," says Hepburn, "it's like back in
the days of slavery, when there were field negroes and
house negroes. The two were miles apart regarding their
thoughts on emancipation. It's no different today. I
guess I would have been in the field."
Hepburn wasn't the only one who thought
the programme shouldn't have been made. The black footballers
most critical of Ron refused to take part even if it
was only to come on and slate him. Ligali, an organisation
which describes itself as a voice for the African British
community, contacted the Director of Television to register
its disapproval. Our commissioning editor Maxine Watson
was asked to deal with this. In Ligali's mission statement
there's a vow "to monitor, investigate and publicly
challenge all media institutions that publish, broadcast,
perform, or distribute content harmful and offensive
to the African British community."
Accordingly, Maxine invited them in
for a viewing. She was told that the film was too soft
on Ron; that viewers wouldn't grasp its subtleties and
that the constant use of the n-word would cause offence.
Our intention was never to cause offence, but the American
archive material we've used - folk songs, posters and
so on - featuring the n-word, is shocking and it's there
because we felt a reminder of the word's vile history
will do less harm than good.
Should Ron work again? John Barnes
obviously thinks so. As for me, in the unlikely event
that I had the opportunity to have him on Match of the
Day 2, given that I don't think he should be cast in
the wilderness forever, I wonder if I'd be brave enough
to accept.
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