The BBC’s biggest problem isn’t Donald Trump — it’s | UK News

We’ve always handled the BBC just like the member of the family who is perhaps a bit pompous but means properly. Lately, though, even the loyal ones are beginning to lose endurance. Public trust in the broadcaster has plummeted after a string of damaging scandals that have shaken its status for impartiality and accuracy. Take the latest Donald Trump scandal – the US president has threatened legal motion against the BBC for $1billion in damages, claiming the broadcaster edited his January 6 2021 speech to make it seem to be he was inciting a riot. The BBC admitted that the Panorama episode “gave the impression that President Trump had made a direct call for violent action.”

BBC bosses are now going through a growing backlash — and truthfully, whether or not you want Trump or not, it’s onerous to blame the public for being livid. A petition has already been launched demanding the company refuse to use licence charge money to pay Donald Trump a penny in compensation. And yet, after the resignation of two senior figures — BBC News chief govt Deborah Turness and director-general Tim Davie, you may see why people have stopped trusting the system.

Michael Prescott’s report uncovered the reality — Trump’s speech was chopped up to sound like a rallying cry to “fight like hell.” That’s not a slip, it’s a stitch-up.

But even if we glance past the lawsuit, the larger story is what it tells us about the connection between the BBC and us, the licence-fee-paying public.

The BBC’s failure right here shouldn’t be just about Trump. It’s about our trust.

Similarly, the BBC was discovered by Ofcom to have breached its own guidelines after failing to disclose that the 13-year-old narrator of its Gaza: How to Survive a Warzone documentary was the son of a Hamas official.

The regulator said the omission denied viewers “critical information… relevant to their assessment of the narrator and the information he provided.”

In plain phrases, British licence-fee money was given to the household of a proscribed terrorist organisation. It’s scandalous, indefensible, and yet another instance of how far the BBC has drifted from the requirements the public expects.

These aren’t remoted errors. They level to a deeper breakdown: we count on a publicly funded broadcaster to act as a impartial guardian of details, not an establishment that treats editorial accuracy like an non-obligatory additional.

When we pay for the licence charge, we’re not subscribing to leisure — we’re investing in integrity.

If that trust erodes, the model falls aside. The licence charge isn’t just a tax; it’s a contract between the BBC and the public.

But when high-profile errors pile up — from deceptive edits to undisclosed political hyperlinks — that contract begins to look one-sided.

It’s not only about Trump suing. It’s about thousands and thousands of Britons quietly asking: why ought to I pay for this if I can’t trust it?

Ultimately, the BBC’s biggest problem isn’t Donald Trump and his big unhealthy billion-dollar lawsuit — it’s us: the viewers, the payers, the people who used to consider it spoke for all of us.

Until the BBC understands that the licence charge doesn’t guarantee loyalty, only accountability, its most harmful critic gained’t be Trump — it’ll be its viewers, and we’re fed up.