What should we make of criticism of RTÉ's decision to broadcast the documentary film The 8th last week? First of all, at least as articulated in an article by Melanie McDonagh in The Irish Times, that criticism is based on a mistaken premise.
RTÉ, McDonagh argued, had breached the principles of balance and objectivity required of a public service broadcaster because of the film’s partisan depiction of the 2018 referendum on the repeal of the 8th Amendment. She criticised commissioning editors for failing to ensure greater representation for the No side, either within the film itself or somewhere else in its schedule.
But the fact is that commissioning editors had nothing to do with it, because RTÉ didn’t commission the film. The 8th is an independently-produced documentary feature intended for cinema release (which ended up being rather difficult in 2021, of course) and subsequent sale to broadcasters. RTÉ purchased it in the same way as it would, say, The Lego Movie.
Nobody could argue that it's unclear where the filmmakers' sympathies lie
Some may find this argument specious or hair-splitting, but it is absolutely central to the way broadcasters of all sorts go about their business.
It doesn’t mean that they don’t remain responsible for their purchasing and scheduling decisions, but it raises rather complicated questions of what “balance” means in practical terms for a public service broadcaster operating in a fragmented media landscape of on-demand platforms and independent producers, where one of the growth areas is in highly authored documentaries that sometimes touch on politically contentious subjects.
Netflix, for example, is full of biographical documentaries of American figures such as Ruth Bader Ginsburg or Alexandria Ocasio Cortez that border on the hagiographic.
Aideen Kane, Lucy Kennedy and Maeve O’Boyle’s documentary on the 2018 referendum campaign is a fine piece of filmmaking with a clear authorial position on the struggle for women’s rights in Ireland and the vital necessity of removing the constitutional prohibition on abortion. It builds its narrative around the central figure of Ailbhe Smyth, the shrewd strategist and compelling voice of the campaign, and interweaves the immediate pressures of the intense political debate around the issue with Smyth’s own life story of personal growth and political awakening.
It does feature contributions from anti-abortion campaigners Wendy Grace and John McGuirk, but nobody could argue that it’s unclear where the filmmakers’ sympathies lie. In a current affairs programme that would be a problem. In a documentary it need not be.
There's no doubt, however, that the media skews more socially liberal than the overall electorate
McDonagh points out that one-third of voters rejected Repeal, and argues that it was incumbent on RTÉ to somehow reflect that fact as a counterbalance to The 8th. That raises the prospect of the weaponisation in everyday life of the sort of requirements in force during electoral contests, which turn campaign coverage into a dreary tit-for-tat driven by clockwatching.
How should this balance be achieved? Should the alternative point of view take up the same amount of airtime that the original film did, or would it be based on the margin of victory in the campaign?
Should the counter-balancing programme be made by a director with the same commitment to the No side that The 8th did to Repeal? Should RTÉ have put the first documentary in mothballs until it was happy it had secured a film of equal quality to measure against it? And when does the statute of limitations run out on requiring balance on issues which have been decided by a decisive vote of the Irish people?
The fact is that, when it comes to independent features, drama and many other sorts of creative content, mandatory regulations on balance drawn up to govern news and current affairs will never adequately answer these questions. They’re better left to the sort of broader editorial principles which most reputable news organisations apply.
There’s no doubt, however, that the media skews more socially liberal than the overall electorate. It’s hardly a modern phenomenon, nor is it peculiar to Ireland. But it makes it even more necessary to take legitimate criticisms seriously when they arise, as they do here.
What would happen if the shoe was on the other foot and the BBC had broadcast a documentary on the Brexit referendum which featured limited footage of the Remain side but focused sympathetically on the Leave campaign and its heroic leader Nigel Farage? And what if that documentary had been part-financed by Leave donor Aaron Banks (as The 8th was by the Open Society Foundation, a backer of Repeal)? That would have been worth debating, surely?
For me, the greatest irony is that, while I enjoyed The 8th, I would have been even more gripped by a film from inside the anti-Repeal campaign. An opportunity missed, surely, by filmmakers, broadcasters and campaigners alike.
