Television
Figments
Richard Ingram
The pagan soul', writes Evelyn Waugh, 'has been compared to a bird flying through a lighted hall and out into the darkness. Better, to be a bird fluttering about in the gloom, beating against the windows when all the time the doors are open to the air and sun'. For some reason I an always reminded of this passage and its vivid image of the trapped bird whenever I see Bernard Levin on the telly pursuing his search for an Answer. For reasons which I cannot fully understand Levin ignores the open door to Christianity, the religion which lies at the root of all he admires in any civilisation, and beats his wings instead against a variety of windows, giving credence to any number of ersatz gurus like that hairy old rascal of Poona, the Bagwan Shree Rajneesh. Last year he concluded his series of BBC interviews with a half-hour session with a Californian wise guy called Ram Dass, my remarks about whom drew an hysterical letter from Levin in which he accused me of being totally corrupt and the editor of the Spectator (whom God preserve) of lacking any form of self-respect for printing malicious pieces. This year Levin produced another slightly more respectable guru in the shape of 85-year-old Krishnamurti to tell us that if we were to attain enlightenment and happiness we had to abandon Thought. Thought, it appeared, was what was responsible for all the Bad Things in life like the Atom Bomb and the Cruise Missile. All religions like Christianity were based on Thought and therefore Bad. I learned little about the guru except that he runs a school in Hampshire. Asked what subjects were taught he said nonchalantly, 'Oh, the academic subjects.' I couldn't help wondering how he reconciled this teaching of academic subjects with his Insistence that Thought was Bad. One could imagine the classroom scenes — 'Give the square root of 294, Fotherington-Thomas.' 'Urn. .er. .' "Think, boy, think!"But, sir, Krishna-ji says all thought is wrong.' 'Get out boy!' Whenever he goes on telly poor old Michael Foot is always forced to talk about the things he doesn't want to talk about. On Monday's Panorama he was bursting to give us his thoughts on President Mitterrand's historic victory and its implications. He also, apparently, had written a letter to Mr Brezhnev about disarmament which he wanted to be discussed. To his obvious annoyance he was compelled yet again to answer questions about Wedgwood Benn and the fight for the Deputy Leadership of the Labour Party. Earlier, an entertaining film by Michael Cockerell, the liveliest of the Panorama reporters, had given a racy rundown on the rise and rise of Wedgie, taking us behind the scenes into the various smoke filled rooms of the Labour Party. There was a wonderful scene of that well-known Ball of Fire John Silkin, with supporters like the ineffable Dame Judith Hart, trying to appear dynamic and purposeful. Wedgwood Benn himself was interviewed in the crowded second class compartment of a British Rail bone-shaker — though curiously at another juncture he seemed to be seated in the first class of an HST — reiterating how concerned he was with what he calls the Ishues'. As usual, Denis Healey came over with the most conviction, making one wonder once again why on earth the Labour MPs voted for Foot last September. Questioned by David Dimbleby, Foot fended off the questions with a barrage of waffle worthy of Sir James Goldsmith himself. He wouldn't say what he would do if Wedgwood Benn got elected to the Deputy Leadership, and he wouldn't say why he hadn't declared his support for Healey. I suspect myself that Footy in fact would like the smug old bore Silkin to win but is frightened of saying so for fear of the laughter such an admission would provoke. Sir Robin Day — how silly that looks — has made a great success of Question Time, the TV version of Any Questions. The audience is now carefully vetted to exclude loonies, though occasionally one manages to slip through, and the programme is too often put out late at night but otherwise I should think it is now as good as it ever will be, thanks, it must be said, to Day's expert chairmanship. I used to think that somehow Question Time could be improved by getting it off politics but I have come to the view now that if you fill a hall with people and stick four public figures on a platform, the audience will inevitably ask the panel if they think National Service should be brought back, and, equally inevitably, two people on the panel will say yes and two will say no.
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