MELANIE PHILLIPS: A rapier of steel under a blanket of bonhomie. What the bully boys of broadcasting today could learn from Frost By Melanie Phillips All too often, it is only when someone dies that people suddenly publicly discover that individual's many virtues. That is almost certainly the case with Sir David Frost, the broadcaster and media mogul who died at the weekend. For although he was a legendary media personality, he was persistently dismissed as a lightweight interviewer. He was scorned for bowling his guests only the softest of interrogatory balls, and derided for becoming an establishment toady, as unctuous as his lifestyle was grand. Sir David Frost was scorned for bowling his guests only the softest of interrogatory balls, and derided for becoming an establishment toady, as unctuous as his lifestyle was grand Nevertheless, it was Frost who, in 1977, pulled off what was arguably the greatest coup in interviewing history when he got the disgraced former U.S. President Richard Nixon to admit his culpability in the Watergate scandal and that he had "let down the country." This encounter has passed into broadcasting legend. It became the most- watched political interview ever, attracting 45 million viewers; gave rise to books and articles; and was immortalised in the stage play and subsequent film, Frost/Nixon. Frost's initial attempts to fund the Nixon interviews, however, were rebuffed by incredulous TV moguls, who dismissed him as no more than a fluffy entertainer. The man who was to spearhead Frost's research team, James Reston, records that when he was first approached to work on the interviews, he discovered that Frost had previously interviewed Nixon in 1968. On that occasion, Frost had asked him such hilariously open-goal questions as: "Are there any essentially American characteristics?"; "For an American today, what can the dream or goal be?"; and (gloriously) "This is a vast question, I know, but at root, what would you say that people are on Earth for?" How folk chortled. But more thoughtful observers, noted Reston, had spotted that, lulled into a false sense of security, Nixon had been far more personally and politically revealing than he would otherwise have been. In 1977, Frost pulled off one of the greatest coups in interviewing history when he got the disgraced former U.S. President Richard Nixon to admit his culpability in the Watergate scandal and that he had 'let down the country' The interview became the most-watched political interview ever, attracting 45 million viewers; gave rise to books and articles; and was immortalised in the stage play and subsequent film, Frost/Nixon Time and again, indeed, Frost got people to reveal more than they had intended to by making them feel that under his apparently gentle and unfocused questioning, they were safe from any elephant traps - and thus he got them to let down their guard. In a BBC TV interview last year, Sir David explained his approach this way: "One does try to relax people. In general if you relax someone, and put a difficult question in a relaxed way, it's often more fruitful. On the surface it is a simple format - two people sitting across from one another having a conversation. But underneath it is often a power struggle - a battle for the psychological advantage. In other words, beneath Sir David's blanket of bonhomie lay a rapier of steel. Nixon appeared to have thought that outwitting Frost was a foregone conclusion, and that he could use the interviews to rescue his battered reputation. This must surely rank as one of the most disastrous underestimates in the history of journalism. After successfully stonewalling an increasingly frustrated Frost, Nixon finally crumbled when Frost's apparent empathy and kindness penetrated the tormented ex-President's defences - and he eventually conceded he had participated in the Watergate burglary cover-up and lied to the world about it. In a BBC TV interview last year, Sir David explained his interviewing approach: 'One does try to relax people. In general if you relax someone, and put a difficult question in a relaxed way, it's often more fruitful' To which all one can say about Sir David Frost is: "They don't make "em like that any more." For consider so many of today's broadcasting interviewers - rude, aggressive, constantly interrupting, often twisted up with their own political agenda. And consider the result - interviews in which overly guarded politicians and other public figures refuse to say anything interesting or revealing at all. Indeed, the whole broadcast interview process has long been a farce in which the defensive interviewee is armed with a series of soundbites on a set line from which there can be no deviation - intoned with all the spontaneity and sincerity of a speak-your-weight machine. The irony is that while the derided softie Sir David died worth something in the region of £200 million, the gratuitously aggressive interviewing that gains such plaudits in the world of journalism has been turning off the public in droves. Viewing figures for BBC TV's Newsnight, for example - famous for the "rottweiler" interviewing style of Jeremy Paxman - have been declining to the point where it might now be more economical to ring up viewers and read them that night's programme down the phone. The point of much day-to-day journalism is to hold public figures to account and their feet to the fire. Some interviewers, such as Today's John Humphrys, do this well because they have always done their homework Of course, sharp questioning has an important place in public debate. The BBC radio show the Moral Maze, on which I am a regular panellist, is actually much misunderstood on this very point. Listeners who wrongly assume this is just another current-affairs discussion programme wonder why some of our questioning is so aggressive. In fact, the show is constructed as a trial of ideas, in which each argument is subjected to cross-examination, with the aim of exposing its weakest point. And the point of much day-to-day journalism is to hold public figures to account and their feet to the fire. Some interviewers, such as Today's John Humphrys, do this well because they have always done their homework. But so many others seem to have in their heads some kind of macho, swaggering pattern of interviewing, whose aim is not to enlighten the public but to bring down a mighty figure. The effect of this on public debate has been grievous. Such a constant tearing-down of public figures has made people believe that every politician is a rogue, swindler and liar. At the same time, people can hear for themselves the shifty evasions of politicians and others who are spinning a line in an interview and persistently refusing to answer the question. Sir David Frost's hallmark characteristic was his affability and niceness. It was this good-natured quality that encouraged people to drop their guard. Pictured with former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher As a result, the public have concluded that most politicians are "all the same as each other" and that the chances of their ever addressing people's actual concerns and needs with honesty and integrity are nil. Which is why those few politicians who seem to say exactly what they think - and damn the consequences - such as UKIP's Nigel Farage or the Tories" Boris Johnson, are so popular. The general cynicism about politicians is lethal because it has caused so many people to lose faith in the entire political process, with untold consequences for democracy. More than that, it also creates a sour view of human nature, with a poisonous cynicism and absence of trust which are socially destructive. To put it another way, niceness - or generosity of spirit - brings out the best in others. Which means it encourages them to be honest and forthcoming in return. The passing of Sir David Frost - that extraordinary media celebrity, entertainer, interviewer, entrepreneur and all-round nice guy - leaves such a sad gap in media and public life And this does more than achieve a satisfactory result for the interviewer, production team or TV station. It also leaves the viewer not just better-informed but with an essentially benign view of human nature upheld rather than undermined or destroyed. Those of us who inhabit a professional world of verbal combat might do well to view Sir David's career with a measure of humility - and acknowledge that the reflexive pugilism of so much journalistic interviewing tends to diminish rather than expand the store of trust upon which a decent and healthy society depends. Which is why the passing of Sir David Frost - that extraordinary media celebrity, entertainer, interviewer, entrepreneur and all-round nice guy - leaves such a sad gap in media and public life.