Reith 2.0 – from the BBC in-house magazine Ariel

Who will set the standards for the digital future? You and me.

These days my 14 year-old son is a TV producer. If he has a story to tell he can shoot it, edit it and have it online by tea-time. Already few young people leave High School without a basic knowledge of video editing and the ability to broadcast their creations to a potentially limitless audience. It's within the budget of medium sized churches, sports clubs, charities and businesses not just to make content but to run a channel should they wish to.

In many ways this represents the democratisation of broadcasting. But this is just the beginning. In the world of YouTube, Web 2.0 and XBox the way we make TV and the way we watch it are going to change beyond recognition. IPTV will turn broadcasting from an art gallery into a supermarket – but a rather Harry Potter-esque supermarket where all the goods are both interactive and personalised.

That begs the question of who will set the standards for story-telling in the digital environment. In days gone by lobby groups including the faith communities like mine would often decide what they liked or disliked. They would make their feelings known to the broadcasters and regulators in a variety of ways – some more and some less rational. The broadcasters would listen and respond as they thought fit. Regulators would arbitrate where necessary. But in an increasingly flat industry these old models of regulation are less and less relevant. The internet can't be regulated except by the person whose finger is on the mouse. It is the car boot sale of the soul, a barely sorted jumble of trash and treasure. That's not to say it doesn't have an ethic. Online communities often develop their own views on what is acceptable and unacceptable, and members who breach the standards are dealt with. But the first commandment of the internet is simple: if you don't like it, don't look at it.

I don't believe the BBC is inevitably going to be buried in the digital avalanche, any more than I believe the church will disappear. But in this new climate big institutions – churches, broadcasters and regulators – have to find new roles.

If it's any comfort, we have been here before – and together. The very first broadcasters didn't only have technological challenges to meet. They also had to determine what the new media could be used for, and what values they would aspire to in content and production. For all his personal failings John Reith set the bar high. Using his Christian faith as a reference point he established that broadcasting had a moral purpose as well as a commercial one. Now we are on the cusp of a new era that is every bit as significant as the early days of radio. We need to develop a new set of values that will work in the post-Christian, digitally-saturated environment. You might call them Reith 2.0.

I believe Reith 2.0 is a new contract between the individual who makes content and the individual who consumes it. The person who makes content (be they researcher, editor or my 14 year-old son) commits to doing so with truth and integrity, clearly indicating what kind of content it is – be it fact or fiction, news, comment or drama. The person who receives the content (which is all of us) agrees to watch with their brain in gear, critiquing the value and trustworthiness of what they see.

We need a confident BBC to establish a moral purpose for the digital environment. Nothing exemplifies this better than great factual programming and news. But I'd also like to see the BBC as the top-branded trainer in schools and colleges, teaching people how to tell stories and make content with style, integrity and truth. And I'd like to see the BBC consciously educating audiences to be sharper in questioning the value and quality of what we watch.

It won't matter much if the BBC makes less content in the years ahead, as long it sets the highest standards of integrity and truth-telling for the rest of the media to aspire to. That's why a firm response to recent breaches of trust by programme-makers is so vital. The BBC is the elder in the community of digital story-tellers. It can influence public values in the digital environment chiefly by example and by training. It's the values it upholds, not the size of its audiences, that justify its public funding.

Ready to Serve

In 1923, not long after he had become the first Director General of the BBC, John Reith invited the Archbishop of Canterbury for dinner at his private flat. He wanted to show the Archbishop and his wife one of the new wireless receiving sets. The Archbishop's wife was amazed that the wireless could work even when the windows were closed! But the Archbishop complained that the music that was playing was too loud and intrusive for a dinner party. So the DG made a quick phone call to the studio and within minutes the crashing symphony gave way to a lilting piano sonata.

Depending how you look at it, this is either a very early example of audience interactivity, or the first attempt by the church to interfere in the independence of broadcasters. Either way the BBC can justly say that it has always heard the voice of the church.

Too often the relationship between the church and the media community has been characterised by an uneasy stand-off. Christian people are renowned for complaining. As a programme-maker I've had my share of green ink letters. Viewed from inside the media it often looks as if the only things Christians care about are sex and swear words. At the same time, whilst we were campaigning and lobbying about surface issues we have often missed the bigger issues of whether programmes are good, whether they try to tell the truth about the world, and whether they improve the quality of people's lives.

As long as we go on acting as if the media and faith communities are engaged in a long-term battle for control of the public imagination we will continue to clash over trivia. There will always be people of faith who feel that the chief issue in the Kingdom of God is the scheduling of Songs of Praise or the misrepresentation of Christians in TV drama. But in the year since I became Director of the Churches' Media Council I have sensed an increasing willingness within the faith communities to engage constructively with programme-makers – and vice versa.

This is not to be taken for granted. People of faith tend to bruise easily – probably too easily. There are good reasons why believers might feel badly served by broadcasters. Christians sometimes feel they are easy targets for ridicule. Some Muslims feel they are demonised. Many Sikhs feel they are invisible. We would all like programme-makers to have a better understanding of our beliefs. If a lack of balance and authority from the mainstream media were to push believers into the ghettos of narrowcasting we would all be poorer.

This isn't just about self-interest. We want to serve the broadcasting community – not only so that you will get the facts right when you are telling our stories, but also because there is a huge overlap of core values between the BBC and the faith communities. Both share a concern to explore the truth, to tell stories that enrich people's lives and to create a better society. And both have the capacity to make monumental and very public mistakes, to ask for forgiveness and to press on with a reckless hope that we still have the capacity to do things better.

Andrew Graystone is Director of the Churches' Media Council. He produces and presents programmes for BBC1 and BBC Radio 4.