Was Peter Rachman more than a pantomime villain? Radio review It is Faith in the World week on Radio 2. As faith in the BBC management sinks to all-time low, how thoughtful of Britain's favourite radio network to schedule last night a survey of national morality and ethics. In Says Who? the Rev Richard Coles asked people in London, Salford, Bradford and Glasgow what they think is right and why they think so. An opinion poll had been taken. Only four per cent of people thought religion, faith or paying your taxes were important while 59 per cent put taking care of your family at the top of their list of doing the right thing. "Ethics don't buy you a Ferrari," said someone in the opening montage, a conflation of equally ear-catching comments to a background sound of wild trumpets and declamatory songs. This continuous musical storm duly raised a great tide of clichés. Life's a struggle... nothing comes to you on a plate any more... new media... wide world... old men barring the way for the younger generation... no respect... everyone out for themselves. Rev Coles swam on, dauntless. Sixth formers, a Buddhist sage, a life coach, a woman priest, a Bishop, a nun who used to be a city trader floated by him, variously spouting thoughts on adultery, honesty, religious education, knowing yourself. Only prayer could have saved this bad dream of a programme. Fortunately for its makers any audience it started out with will have left half-way through to catch the Panorama on Jimmy Savile. Earlier yesterday evening on Radio 4 in The Real Rachman - Lord of the Slums, Joshua Levine, a barrister turned investigative reporter, examined evidence for a reputation and found holes in it. Peter Rachman was a Polish immigrant to Britain whose activities as a slum landlord in the Fifties became notorious. Panorama, back when Richard Dimbleby presented it, investigated him and found him a villain. His name has since become a synonym for exploitation. Levine, 60 years on from Rachman's death, asked why? He had found only four photographs of Rachman, no films, no tape recordings. Rachman's sole conviction was for parking without lights. Levine, therefore, then went in search of people who knew him. He found Rachman's biographer, Shirley Green, who admitted she liked him. He found a black woman who had been a tenant in one of his houses and, yes, the accommodation was not good but then he was the only landlord who would let to black tenants so she was grateful. What about all those stories of white working class tenants being forced out by thugs with dogs? That wasn't Rachman. It was Michael de Freitas, not necessarily working for Rachman. Mandy Rice-Davies, once his tenant and his mistress (she was 16, he was 41) said she loved him, pitied him for his persecution at the hands of Nazis. "I was the girlfriend he never had," she said. A psychiatrist testified that anyone who had been through what Rachman had might well invent his own morality, live in the moment. Rachman had become, concluded Levine, a handy bogeyman, a stereotype of the rapacious foreign exploiter, the grasping Jew. Did we, back then, too readily believe the picture the media painted? Levine made a case for leaving room for doubt. For a guide to what the media can do to a reputation Archive on 4 (Radio 4, Saturday) was practical, solid, wise. In three programmes, collectively titled A Life Less Ordinary, Geoff Bird has been examining how one person has lived through a big story. This week the subject was Lisa Potts, the Wolverhampton nursery teacher who protected her pupils against an attacker in 1996, sustaining serious injuries herself. Immediately afterwards she became a national heroine. She was feted, dubbed an angel. Tony Blair, then on the campaign trail, came to see her. As she told it all (lightly, brightly), others (including one seasoned reporter) remembered how open with the press she always was, never taking the large sums offered for "exclusive" access. Time went by and she tried to pick up the strands of her life but had terrifying flashbacks that ruled out a return to teaching. When she challenged the sum, £49,000, offered in compensation for her injuries and loss of earnings the press turned on her. "She's had ample reward," sniffed one female columnist. The "machete attack heroine" had become "an irritant" or, as Bird put it, "Disney princess to grasping monster." This was a strong story, told with journalistic care and integrity. No bashing, blaming or finger pointing, it was simply a case study in how hard it is to keep your head when all around appear to be losing theirs.