'More Important Than Ever to Speak Truth to Power': Stephen Sackur on BBC Exit and His New Book

The Wire

24-05-2025

Following the shutdown of HARDtalk, the BBC's veteran interviewer Stephen Sackur has, as expected, announced that he will be leaving the corporation in June to focus on writing a book.
During my ongoing visit to London, I emailed Sackur requesting a meeting to discuss his thoughts on the programme's axing and his future plans. He graciously agreed, and we met in front of the British Parliament at Westminster on a bright, sunny Thursday evening last week.
While commuting on the London Underground, the long ride from Woodford Green in East London to Westminster gave me enough time to reflect on the BBC's decision to scrap HARDtalk. It also allowed me to revisit the insightful remarks Sackur had shared with The Wire's Karan Thapar three months ago.
As a journalist, the axing of the BBC's flagship programme HARDtalk came as a rude shock. Known for fearlessly holding the powerful to account, its disappearance felt like a blow to uncompromising journalism. For someone who has never bartered his pen, I could well imagine the cost of shutting it down – and equally imagine the quiet satisfaction of those who once squirmed under its spotlight , now relieved that the hard questions will no longer be asked from that formidable table.
Coming from a conflict zone where I have personally witnessed death, devastation and the heartbreaking exodus of the Kashmiri Pandit community – ever since that first bullet was fired by a Kashmiri in defiance of India's 'occupation' of the erstwhile princely state of Jammu and Kashmir – the scrapping of HARDtalk holds profound meaning for me.
Unlike most media outlets that routinely echo the state's version of events without probing deeper, HARDtalk represented a rare platform willing to question official narratives, even in complex situations like armed encounters with security forces.
Take, for instance, the Chattisinghpora massacre of 20 March, 2000, when 35 innocent Sikhs were gunned down by assailants wearing army fatigues on the eve of then U.S. President Bill Clinton's visit to India. While the army claimed to have eliminated the perpetrators in an encounter soon after, it later emerged that those killed were not Pakistani militants but ordinary labourers.
Preliminary findings from the inquiry suggested that the three unidentified 'terrorists' killed in Operation Amshipora were, in fact, local Kashmiris. Army in a rare admission accepted 'soldiers exceeded their powers during an alleged fake gun battle in Kashmir that killed three men'.
Such admissions only occur when fearless, principled, and uncompromising journalism holds sway – where the looming threat of exposure compels the wrongdoers to come clean. Without programmes like HARDtalk, not only do such elements gain confidence, but the sycophantic media is left unchecked to dominate the narrative.
The BBC's decision prompted me to reach out to Director General Tim Davie, seeking an explanation for what led to the programme's termination. The response, however, came from Robin Miller, Head of Communications for BBC International News. I had sent a detailed email conveying my dismay over the decision, and to his credit, Miller took the time to respond with a thoughtful and comprehensive reply.
'People are coming to the BBC News channel for live and breaking news, while across the whole of BBC News, we have hard-hitting long-form interviews and discussion on more platforms than ever, for instance via our global on-air editors, and our debate and discussion programmes,' Miller wrote. 'We can no longer afford to run so many bespoke programme teams.'
Miller added: 'I would like to reassure you that whilst we no longer have HARDtalk, the BBC is committed to holding power to account around the world and we will continue to provide long form interviews that ask the difficult questions and allow for in-depth discussion and analysis.'
Somehow, Miller's response didn't quite sound right, and I was eager to put across this to the man himself who had been holding the fort for so long.
As I emerged from the TubeStation at Westminster, I got a call from Stephen Sacker and within a minute or two I spotted him waiting for me right at the entrance of the station.
His demeanour was calm, gentle, and unexpectedly warm – quite unlike the stern figure he often appeared on his shows. In person, he was as soft as cotton yet as refined as silk. We settled into a nearby pub and began our conversation over a mug of beer.
He didn't mince words – he's not leaving by choice.
'I don't want to leave the BBC,' he told me. 'I still have a lot to give.' Though he spoke of moving on and focusing on a book project already backed by a publisher, there was no mistaking the subtle trace of hurt and disappointment beneath his composed exterior.
'It's definitely a strange period,' he sighed.
As our conversation turned to the state of global media – particularly the situation in India and the government's move to take down The Wire's website – it became clear that he didn't fully share the view expressed by Miller, who had told me, 'People are coming to the BBC News channel for live and breaking news.' I sensed there was something deeper, perhaps more troubling, behind the decision – something even Sackur seemed reluctant to explore further.
In a recent interview with the Guardian's Simon Hattenstone, Sackur expressed concern over BBC's shifting news priorities , highlighting that programmes like HARDtalk, Panorama, and Newsnight, known for their autonomy, are increasingly facing centralisation and control from BBC leadership.
This shift, he scorned, has led to reduced staff and resources for these programmes, impacting their ability to produce in-depth, ground-breaking journalism.
He fears that this emphasis on live news is turning journalism into 'churnalism,' sacrificing quality and depth for quick updates.
He appeared visibly shaken, the trademark stern expression absent – replaced by a subdued, almost extinguished presence, as though a once-bright flame had vanquished.
'What's left for me at the corporation now that the programme I was known for has been scrapped?' Stephen said, his voice low and reflective. 'There's nothing to stay here for – it's best I step away.'
Stephen looked genuinely surprised when I showed him the email I had sent to Tim Davie – and the detailed reply I received from Robin Miller. Given how distant and impersonal Davie's relationship with him had been, Stephen raised an eyebrow.
'I must say, it's rather strange that the BBC took the time to respond at length to a query from an Indian journalist,' he remarked, half in wonder, half in irony.
Pertinently, his relationship with Tim Davie was distant and tellingly cold. Aside from a brief congratulatory call when Davie took office – during which he praised HARDtalk and vaguely promised to visit the team – there was no meaningful follow-up. The promised visit never materialised, and beyond a token group gathering, Davie remained silent. Most strikingly, after the announcement to axe the programme, Stephen received no direct communication at all – not even a courtesy message.
Unyielding men are not easily shaken – their resilience burns brightest in the face of adversity. They rise from the ashes like the proverbial phoenix and make their presence felt with renewed force.
Stephen is no exception. With characteristic resolve, he is now channeling his energy into a new project – a book titled Hard Truth , borrowing its name from the very programme, HARDtalk that he dedicated some 20 years of his life to.
This powerful connection keeps alive the legacy of fearless journalism that has defined his career.
'My book is called 'Hard Truth: 10 Investigations That Shook the World – and Why They Matter Now'. It tells the stories of 10 truth-telling journalists who confronted abuses of power,' he confided. 'Speaking truth to power is becoming ever more difficult and dangerous. But it's more important than ever if we want to safeguard democracy, especially in the face of rising authoritarianism and intrusive digital technologies.'
Headline Press has acquired world all-language rights to the book. The acquisition was made by publisher Martin Redfern from Antony Topping at Greene & Heaton, with the book scheduled for publication in hardback, e-book, and audio version in September 2026.
The book is described as a 'rallying cry for investigative journalism,' highlighting the stories of 10 brave journalists, including Daphne Caruana Galizia, Amira Hass, Rana Ayyub and Hopewell Chin'ono, and aims to defend truth-telling against disinformation, authoritarianism and organised crime.
They say, 'Never mess with a writer – they have a way with words.' When HARDtalk was trashed, it only ignited a fierce fire within Stephen Sackur. Now armed with a sharpened pen, he prepares his vengeance – not with anger, but with truth.
Before leaving, Sackur ushered me to the Westminster Tube station, stepping onto the Jubilee line before we parted ways – our journeys splitting in two different directions – both literally and metaphorically.
As the train pulled away, I stood on the platform for a moment, watching the blur of its motion. It struck me then: while his chapter at the BBC may be closing, Stephen Sackur's pursuit of truth is far from over. The tracks ahead may be uncertain, but for a journalist of his calibre, every stop is another story waiting to be told.
Farooq Shah is a Kashmir based journalist, currently in London.