John Birt, Director General of the BBC from 1992-2000. © BBC

Frances Stevenson, secretary and mistress of David Lloyd George, writes in her diary on 21st March 1934:

“We dined before the broadcast with John Reith [BBC Director General]—he is a curious character—a cross between a canny Scot and a medieval saint—but more of the fanatic in him than the academic. He firmly believes in the mission of the BBC to purify the life of the nation. Lord Beaverbrook [proprietor of The Daily Express] has been running a campaign against the BBC and Reith says it is a purely personal one against him, and that B is out to bust the BBC.”

On 17th June 1953, Harold Macmillan, then Minister for Housing, writes in his diary about the Conservative government’s plans to allow commercial TV broadcasting:

“Television fills the whole political world. There are violent opinions, for and against. The BBC and the Times newspaper (now edited by William Haley, former head of the BBC) are putting up a tremendous fight to defend their monopoly. They have got Lords Halifax, Waverley and Brand—and of course the bishops—to form a society for their support. The alleged American ‘vulgarity’ and especially their handling of the coronation has been whipped up into a great cry against sponsoring. [US networks had broadcast the ceremony, but had interrupted it with advertisements at critical moments]. After all the tedious economic problems which no one can understand, this is one issue on which everyone can have an opinion.”

Hugh Carleton Greene, Director General of the BBC, recalls a meeting with Harold Wilson before the 1964 general election:

“He came around to have a drink. He had been very much upset because the BBC had planned the beginning of a series of repeats of a very popular light entertainment programme, Steptoe and Son, [then with 26m viewers] on the evening of polling day. He thought that would keep away particularly Labour supporters from the polls. Harold Wilson that evening began by accusing the BBC of plotting against him. I told him that he must really know in his heart of hearts that that was untrue, and unless he withdrew that remark there was no point in our discussing anything; we could just have a drink and that could be that.

“He did withdraw and we talked about the Steptoe and Son problem. The next day I discussed the matter further with the controller of BBC One and we thought a good idea would be to shift it from early in the evening until 9 o’clock, when at that time the polls closed. I rang up Harold Wilson and told him about this decision and he said to me he was very grateful—it might make a difference of about 20 seats to him. He won, I think, by four and I’ve sometimes wondered what effect my decision had on British political history.”

On general election day in 1974, Bernard Donoughue, special advisor to Labour leader Harold Wilson, writes in his diary:

“Back at the hotel after the polling booths closed the press were gathering in the lobby… Fortunately the BBC had sent Michael Charlton, who is nice and polite and serious, and almost the only BBC man who is not out to knock the Labour Party and lick the Tories’ arse.”

Woodrow Wyatt records a conversation with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in his diary on 12th February 1989:

“I mentioned that Rupert Murdoch is attracted by her idea of a series of speeches and then linking them together expanding them into a book. She said, ‘How is it getting on, that Sky Television of his?’ Of course she loves the whole idea because it whittles down the influence of the BBC. It makes the area of choice more open, and it is more difficult for people of left-wing persuasion to mount steady drip-drip campaigns against her.”

Chris Mullin, Labour MP, writes about a visit to the BBC in November 1996:

“John Birt [the Director General] and his senior managers—of whom there were many—briefed us. The BBC, far from sticking at what it is good at, has ambitious plans to expand into commercial activity and use the proceeds to subsidise the core business. ‘We intend to be a pioneer of the digital age,’ was how Birt put it. Murdoch and the licence fee were their chief concerns. ‘We’re not indulging in hyperbole,’ he said, ‘We believe we are at a critical moment.’ Murdoch had taken extraordinary risks with an untried technology and he had won. He had tied up the rights on soccer and movies for years to come. He had a subscription base of four to five million. It was not worth anyone else’s while to invest in a set-top box because no one else had the ‘drivers’—soccer and movie rights—to make it saleable. Therefore everyone was going to have to use his system and it was vital that it be properly regulated, particularly the electronic programme guide. Otherwise, how will the consumer find other services in a world where the dominant player controls access? Birt added, ‘Every member of [John Major’s Conservative] government now regrets that Murdoch was allowed to get into that position.’”