James Hawthorne

James Burns Hawthorne was born in Northern Ireland in 1930, one of identical twins — with an immediate mention in The Lancet because their combined birth-weight was 20lbs. He came of Protestant stock with, far back, Catholic ancestry on his mother’s side.

Hawthorne won a string of scholarships to the Methodist College, Belfast, followed by Stranmills College and Queen’s University. He taught maths at Sullivan Upper School from 1951 to 1960, when he made his break into the BBC as a brilliant schools broadcasting producer. His series Today and Yesterday in Northern Ireland was still being broadcast 40 years later and his old university presented him with a special award for his contribution to community relations.

In 1968 he was awarded a Winston Churchill Fellowship, spending some time with NHK, the Japanese state broadcaster, and two years later he seized the chance to return to the Pacific as director of broadcasting in Hong Kong. He developed both radio and television in quantity and quality and acted as chairman of various committees of the Asia-Pacific Broadcasting Union — he was responsible for the “Hawthorne formula” which defined the basis of programme cost-sharing within the entire Asia-Pacific region. He was also, to his surprise, appointed a justice of the peace.

He returned to Northern Ireland as regional controller in 1978. His job, in theory, was simply the professional one of improving the range and quality of programmes within and from the Province, and in this he was notably successful. But, inevitably, he was a public figure and equally inevitably he was embroiled in controversy. Perceived bias, whatever the facts, could and did lead to threats of violence, some to be laughed off, some chilling in their deadly intent. The most serious came from Protestant extremists after objective but, in their view, excessive BBC coverage of the IRA hunger strikers’ deaths in 1981.

Hawthorne and his wife and two of their children left Belfast at a few hours’ notice and a police guard was allocated to his third child at school in Wales. He himself returned immediately, living for some time in a safe house and driving to and from work in a rusty old banger that he felt no self- respecting terrorist would target. He had already had one hoax bomb attached to his car, and these incidents, together with an intelligence warning that the IRA planned to kidnap his son, give some indication of the strain imposed on him. He responded with resilience, courage and humour. In 1982 he was appointed CBE.

Hawthorne was a fine ambassador for the BBC, and his reputation as a public speaker was confirmed by his moving address at the 1982 Edinburgh International Radio Festival, in which he spoke with restraint and compassion about the decisions to report or not to report grisly details of violent episodes. His contribution was described as the main event of the festival. His editorial judgment was honed by these almost daily decisions, and all central producers were instructed to clear with him the content of any programme with an Irish dimension.

The storm that hit him in 1985 over the Real Lives programme was totally unexpected. This episode centred on a documentary about two senior Northern Ireland senior politicians, one DUP, Gregory Campbell, and one Sinn Fein, Martin McGuinness; both democratically elected to represent their constituents, and neither under any legal cloud. The programme was made by a respected Television Centre producer, and Hawthorne was satisfied that, despite McGuinness’s presence, it met all BBC criteria, and did not “provide terrorists with the oxygen of publicity”.

A press viewing in London passed off with no special comment. But The Sunday Times prepared a significant article, the central theme being the BBC intention to interview “the IRA’s Chief of Staff”.

Letters on these lines were sent to the Home Secretary, Leon Brittan, the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland and the Prime Minister’s press secretary. At an unrelated press briefing in America, Margaret Thatcher was trapped into answering a hypothetical question about IRA interviews.

In London the telephones started to ring. The Home Secretary, without having seen the programme, wrote to the BBC chairman, Stuart Young, calling for it not to be scheduled. Young called a joint meeting of the Board of Governors and the Board of Management, the latter body having by then viewed the programme and seen no reason to ditch it. There was already some friction between the two boards over other matters, and circumstances conspired against a sane resolution of the issue — the chairman was a sick man, the director-general was abroad and the national governor for Northern Ireland was just handing over to her successor.

At the end of an acrimonious meeting the governors decided to break with tradition and view the programme for themselves. Hitherto, it had been a strictly observed convention that the governors only criticised after the event. Apparently oblivious of the damage done within the corporation by this vote of no confidence in the management they had themselves appointed, they then compounded the effect by deciding the programme should not be shown, thus giving the very public impression both at home, and, perhaps even more damagingly abroad, that the BBC was controlled by government.

Hawthorne, who had attended, returned distraught to Belfast. Appalled by the decision itself; by, as he saw it, the intellectually mediocre level of the debate leading up to it; and by his own failure to sway the issue, he resigned the next day.

The whole sorry story broke in every branch of the media, at home and overseas. The Home Secretary was accused of censorship, the BBC of ineptitude, and the IRA reaped considerable political advantage. BBC journalists called a wholesale strike, and other staff threatened action if Hawthorne’s resignation were to be accepted. The chairman, aware that events were now spinning out of control, personally appealed to him to stay, and after deep thought about the best interests of all concerned, he agreed to do so.

The affair dragged on for weeks. Eventually, with one or two amendments suggested by the Director-General, the programme was agreed for transmission — with scarcely any reaction other than a number of calls asking what all the fuss had been about. As Hawthorne later told the chairman, the wounds healed, but the scar tissue remained. It was no surprise to his colleagues when the following year he received an important Royal Television Society award for his outstanding contribution to British television and particularly “his unyielding strength and determination”.

In 1983 there had been talk of a transfer to Scotland following the retirement of his Scottish opposite number, and he was also in the running for board of management level posts in London. But despite everything, he and his wife were reluctant to leave Northern Ireland and he remained in command in Belfast until he chose to take early retirement in 1987.

His life continued to be full and constructive. He already held an honorary doctorate in law at Queen’s University, and in 1993 he was awarded a visiting professorship by the University of Ulster. At various times he was inaugural chairman of the Health Promotion Agency and the Community Relations Council, chairman of the Prison Arts Foundation, founder of the Ulster History Society — “not bad for a mathematician”, he used to say — a commissioner for Racial Equality, and a member of the Fair Employment Agency.

His recreations were angling, music — from madrigals to Prokoviev via Dixieland — and conversation. It was a joy to be in his company, and he had a host of friends.

He married Patricia King, the All-Ireland Dance Champion, in 1958. She died in 2002, and he is survived by their son and two daughters.

James Hawthorne, CBE, broadcasting executive, was born on March 27, 1930. He died of cancer on September 7, 2006, aged 76.