Following on from my blog last week, I wanted to look at another related to narrative: that of redirection. If you want a real-time example of how people under pressure try to rewrite the story unfolding around them, look no further than Nigel Farage’s latest controversy. Confronted with resurfaced racist remarks he reportedly made as at school as a young man, Farage has chosen a familiar tactic: don’t defend, don’t apologise, go on the attack—redirect. And in this case, redirect straight at the BBC, accusing them of double standards. Even though it was the Guardian who broke the story, and the BBC are only reporting the news.
It’s a classic manoeuvre. When the spotlight swings your way and the heat is rising, the temptation is to go on the attack, grab that spotlight and point it somewhere—anywhere—else. Farage’s target of choice is the BBC’s archive, arguing that if he is to be held accountable for what he once said, then the BBC should be equally accountable for airing what would now be considered racist programmes in the 1970s.
At first glance, it sounds like a clever counterattack. But take one step back and you realise what’s actually happening: this isn’t about comparative guilt, fairness, or media standards. It’s about narrative construction.
Just like in any negotiation, political dispute, or public scandal, the trick lies in choosing which slice of reality to highlight and which to leave in shadow.
Farage wants the public conversation centred not on what he might have said, but on what the BBC aired—because that’s the corner of the photograph he needs illuminated. He knows that if the story becomes about cultural norms of the 1970s, institutional hypocrisy, or the BBC’s historical output, the focus shifts away from his own choices and behaviour. It becomes a story about “context” rather than accountability.
But the BBC isn’t seeking voter approval - Farage is. And that distinction matters—unless you’re the one trying to reframe the story.
It’s the same tactic we sometimes see in tough negotiations:
- When the facts hurt you, you spotlight the frame.
- When the facts help you, you spotlight the facts.
Farage’s strategy relies on a simple psychological truth: people often react more strongly to perceived hypocrisy than to the issue at hand. If he can seed the idea that the BBC is being selective, biased, or inconsistent in its moral judgment, he changes the emotional terrain of the discussion. The aim isn’t to resolve the issue—it’s to reframe it to a different issue (and one that suits you better).
The BBC, meanwhile, has some options around how it might respond. One option is to keep the spotlight exactly where Farage doesn’t want it: on his own comments. If you’re old enough, you might remember a famous encounter between Jeremy Paxman and Michael Howard in which Paxman repeated the same question, consecutively, twelve times. The effect was remarkable (Howard deferred each and every time, damaging his own credibility in the process). If you’re a negotiator, recognising that this approach is likely to impact the relationship – and not in a good way – is worth taking into account!
Alternatively, they could use the same redirect technique Farage is using on them. The BBC might shift the focus to something current and politically significant: Farage’s and Reform UK’s long-questioned links to Russia and Vladimir Putin.
This reframing would move the conversation from historical TV content to present-day geopolitical concerns. In narrative terms, it would flip Farage’s move back onto him, shining a light on his many on-the-record comments approving of Putin and the conviction of Welsh Reform politician Nathan Gill.
It’s a reminder of the central principle in narrative battles: power doesn’t always lie in the facts themselves, but often in the story we choose to pay attention to.
