Is the reaction to the bullying allegations a sign we’ve become a kinder nation – or are we all just too sensitive? Former BBC One Controller Peter Fincham considers both sides

The Strictly Come Dancing scandal shows no sign of abating. If you’ve been living on the moon for the past few months, a series of shocking revelations have revealed that behind the spangly façade of the BBC’s most popular show lurks an ugly reality of bullying and sexism.

An Italian dancer whose name I can’t remember has been accused of treating his celebrity partner, actress Amanda Abbington, in a manner that amounts to abuse.

The floodgates having opened and other alumni have swum out of the murky waters to say their experience on the show wasn’t entirely joyful. Some commentators are saying this could be the end of Strictly. The ravens are leaving the tower. The BBC’s very existence is being called into question.

I enter this controversy with some trepidation. As a former Controller of BBC One, I occasionally get an approach from a producer on, say, Sky News or the Today programme, asking if I’d like to offer my views on the latest BBC storm-in-a-tea-cup. I always say no, mainly because it’s tough running the BBC and the last thing you want is your predecessors telling you how to do your job.

(I usually refer any comment seekers to my ex-colleague Roger Mosey, formerly the BBC’s Head of Sport and nowadays comfortably ensconced as the Master of Selwyn College, Cambridge. To the best of my knowledge no journalist has ever written the words, “Roger Mosey was unavailable for comment.”)

To be clear – nobody would condone bullying or abusive behaviour in the workplace. I have absolutely no knowledge of what actually goes on behind the scenes, and I offer no criticism of that much-derided group, senior BBC executives. I’m sure they’re doing their level best to tiptoe through this particular minefield with their limbs intact.

During my time at BBC One, my involvement with Strictly amounted to attending recordings in front row seats and popping backstage to congratulate Bruce Forsyth on the programme’s extraordinary success.

Brucie was an old-fashioned charmer and on one occasion waltzed my five-year-old daughter around the stage during the pre-show warm-up.

Less happily, I once introduced Tess Daly to my mother-in-law who said, “You’re prettier in real life than you are on screen.” I think she meant it as a compliment.

One thing we can be sure of is that scrutiny of the forthcoming series will reach a level of intensity never seen before. More revelations may yet emerge. Phrases like “duty of care” and “all complaints are taken seriously” will appear in carefully worded statements from the BBC press department. Ratings will probably go through the roof.

And yet… isn’t there something slightly absurd about the whole thing? I wonder if you’ve seen the excellent 2014 movie Whiplash, written and directed by Damien Chazelle, who went on to Oscars glory with La La Land. Whiplash is a low-budget affair with a stunning central performance by JK Simmons as Terence Fletcher, a ruthless jazz instructor at the fictional Shaffer Conservatory.

Fletcher takes on a young and ambitious drummer Andrew Neiman, played by Miles Teller, and tries to turn him into his childhood hero Buddy Rich. Guess what? His methods aren’t pretty. He shouts, he cajoles, he ridicules Nieman’s efforts, he makes him play for five hours without stopping.

Niemen looks up to him, but starts to hate him. The heart of the film is a merciless battle of wills between a student who just wants encouragement and a teacher who refuses to hand out unearned praise.

Eventually Fletcher’s methods are questioned by other students and – a sign of the times – he is fired for bullying. When we last see him he’s reduced to playing piano in a down-at-heel bar and sinking into alcoholism.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: Fletcher is a brilliant teacher and his approach, harsh at it seems, gets results. Neiman’s hands might literally bleed from intensive practice, but he becomes a very good drummer. The film poses the question: Did Fletcher abuse him, or do him a favour?

For Terence Fletcher, read Giovanni Pernice, the Italian dancer on Strictly (I just looked up his name). On the show professional dancers are given random partners to work with and within a matter of weeks they hope to get them up to a standard where they can perform a passable tango in front of millions of viewers on live television.

Add to the mix the natural competitiveness of celebrities who generally like to be seen as winners, and it’s never going to be the gentle didn’t-they-all-do-well world of your six-year-old’s ballet class.

Presumably Pernice and his fellow professional dancers find themselves thinking: how on earth do we whip these people into shape? You won’t get there by molly-coddling them. But the idea that excellence can only be achieved via an unforgiving regime of relentless training doesn’t sit happily with the times we live in. We don’t want to look behind the curtain and find out how things actually work.

Witness the recent case of Olympic equestrian Charlotte Dujardin, whose career imploded at the speed of a space shuttle with a fuel leak when footage appeared of her repeatedly whipping a horse’s legs during training. Again, you couldn’t possibly condone it, but did we think horses did all that fancy stuff without a bit of – how to put it? – encouragement?

For what it’s worth, I don’t for a minute believe that the current rash of scandals will lead to the end of Strictly. The show will adapt. In the early days the judges, Craig Revel Horwood in particular, would flay contestants alive if their performances didn’t come up to scratch. Ditto Simon Cowell on The X Factor. I suspect that if you looked back at some of those early series you’re be shocked at how blunt the criticism was.

Things have changed and they’ll change further now, with chaperones monitoring every testy exchange between teacher and student. In the forthcoming series, expect more emphasis on positivity, and more concern for the contestants’ well-being. “How was training?” Claudia Winkleman will ask. “Great fun,” they’ll answer, perhaps truthfully.

It’s true of education, of the workplace, of politics. We’re not quite at the level of your six-year-old’s ballet class, but we might be getting there. Do we live in a better, kinder, more nurturing world? Or have we all gone a bit soft? I genuinely can’t decide.

Peter Fincham is co-founder of Expectation TV. Previously he was Managing Director of Talkback, Controller of BBC One and Director of Television at ITV.

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