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The Age
17 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Age
How SBS evolved from ‘clogs and cooking' into our most innovative broadcaster
For some Australians, it was the soccer that first prompted them to watch SBS. Others came for its flagship World News bulletin; current affairs programs such as Dateline, Insight and Living Black; or cult hits including South Park, Queer as Folk and Fat Pizza. And for many teenagers, its racy international films served as a reliable drawcard (and a gateway drug to the appreciation of arthouse cinema). But for Julia Zemiro, SBS was a lifeline to her home country. 'I was born in France and did all my primary education at a French school in Australia,' says the popular presenter, who has hosted several series and specials for the broadcaster including RocKwiz, Who Do You Think You Are?, Great Australian Walks and the Eurovision Song Contest. 'To have all those French films and TV shows was incredible. There was French radio but to see those images on TV made you feel even more connected.' This month, the Special Broadcasting Service – affectionately dubbed the 'Sex Between Soccer' network by viewers – marks its 50th anniversary. And there is much to celebrate: over the course of five decades, it has evolved from two experimental radio stations (2EA in Sydney and 3EA in Melbourne; EA standing for 'Ethnic Australia') into a radio network broadcasting in 68 languages, as well as six television channels. In 2014, its share of the TV audience was 5.2 per cent; last year, it was 9.3 per cent. And its SBS On Demand service has grown by 18 per cent over the past 12 months, with almost 2.25 million active accounts logging into the platform in April alone. 'SBS has been a constant companion of multiculturalism in Australia,' says the network's managing director, James Taylor. 'I'm reminded of the Noel Pearson Boyer Lecture from 2022, where he spoke about the story of Australia resting on three pillars: our First Nations heritage, the British institutional foundations and the multicultural gift of migration. I like to think that SBS sits at the intersection of these pillars by brokering understanding, belonging and mutual respect.' When SBS was launched by the Whitlam government in 1975, it had a narrow aim: to inform non-English speaking Australians of the Medibank public health system, now known as Medicare. Indeed, it was intended to operate for just three months, until its success prompted the government to acknowledge the value of a permanent multicultural broadcaster in a country with a booming migrant population. In 1980, SBS expanded into television, with the Fraser government appointing former ABC chair Bruce Gyngell as its first chief executive. 'I was horrified with the concept they had,' Gyngell later recalled. 'It sounded to me like a typical sort of ethnic station with dancing and clogs and exotic cooking and not much more than that. The sense of culture seemed to be totally absent.' What Gyngell wanted was a channel that would encourage migrants to feel embraced by their adopted country – and to foster a greater appreciation and understanding of their cultures among Australian-born citizens. Loading 'If SBS had never existed, we'd understand so much less about ourselves,' says Jenny Brockie, who hosted the acclaimed Insight program between 2001 and 2020. 'It encouraged us to celebrate our differences while recognising that we're all part of a community, which I think is its biggest contribution. And at a programming level, SBS has been a real innovator; it's a place where a lot of risks have been taken.' Insight is a good example: under Brockie, it evolved from a magazine format into a discussion forum. Each episode is devoted to a single topic, from domestic terrorism to the pain of betrayal, with a studio audience – as opposed to a panel of talking heads – sharing their views and experiences. This might seem like a recipe for Jerry Springer-style conflict but in reality, Insight is among the most thoughtful and illuminating programs on Australian television. 'Every single person in the room is nurtured by producers through extensive conversations over a long period of time,' says Insight's current host, Kumi Taguchi. 'We don't do gotcha moments; if somebody says they don't want to discuss a particular part of their experience, we never cross that line. We're transparent with our guests about who else will be in the room, and the fact there will be differing opinions, which helps build trust and understanding. About 80 per cent of the work is done behind the scenes before people even get into the studio.' 'We were allowed to be a bit more bold than we might have been on a commercial network.' Julia Zemiro Long before Taguchi joined SBS, she was an avid viewer of the network. 'It brought a new kind of quirkiness and irreverence to our screens,' she says. 'Everyone would talk about the late-night world movies, and it was the only station at the time to show South Park. I really like the way it pushed those boundaries.' Loading Zemiro agrees. 'We were allowed to be a bit more bold than we might have been on a commercial network,' she says. 'As a viewer, you'd see things that were a bit sexy or dangerous. SBS showed soccer before anyone gave a shit about soccer. We could say things like, 'Colonialism isn't great' or 'These animals are suffering and we need to do something about it'. And with [music quiz show] RocKwiz, they just let us go for it and be creative, which is pretty rare.' Of course, SBS – which receives about one third of its funding from commercial sponsors and the rest from taxpayers – is not immune to the difficulties facing free-to-air broadcasters in 2025. This is largely due to technological advances, which spawned direct rivals such as Netflix, Stan* and Disney+. (Meanwhile, Google and Meta now account for an estimated 70 per cent of digital advertising spend.) But technology has also been a boon for the network, allowing it to maintain its multilingual programming while reaching new audiences through SBS On Demand and additional channels such as Viceland, World Movies, Food, WorldWatch and NITV. Karla Grant, a Western Arrernte woman, joined SBS in 1995 as a producer and reporter on ICAM, the network's first Indigenous affairs program. In 2002, she created the acclaimed Living Black, which she hosts to this day, and she is one of the main presenters on the National Indigenous Television channel, which became part of SBS in 2012. Loading 'SBS has been a leader in terms of Indigenous programming and storytelling, giving First Nations people a platform and a voice they don't have anywhere else,' Grant says. 'But NITV and Living Black also play a huge part in informing and educating our nation about First Nations issues, history and culture, which is something we want to share with the rest of the country and the world. It's an important role and I think we do it well.' Among the reporting Grant is most proud of is an investigation called Taken, which examined the growing number of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children being removed from their homes by authorities. 'Everyone talks about the stolen generations as though they're a thing of the past,' she says. 'In fact, it's still happening today. We did a story about kids in detention, and how one boy had to drink from the toilet in his cell because the guard wouldn't let him have fresh water. A lot of people wrote to me saying, 'We had no idea this type of thing still happens, but it's an appalling breach of human rights'.' Over the past three decades, Grant has also told countless positive stories. Loading 'We shine a light on all the great things that are happening in our communities and the people who are making huge contributions to our country' she says. 'It's entertaining but it's also educating people at the same time.' The same could be said of many SBS dramas. East West 101, which was set in a major crime squad, explored issues of race and justice; Deep Water was based on unsolved gay hate murders in the 1980s; and New Gold Mountain captured the racial tensions of Victoria's goldfields in the 1850s. There have been warm-hearted comedies such as The Family Law, based on Benjamin Law's memoir of the same name; the groundbreaking documentary series Struggle Street, which detailed the reality of living in poverty in Australia; and the hit reality show Alone Australia, in which survivalists attempt to live by themselves for as long as possible in the wilderness. Among the network's best-known former presenters are newsreaders Lee Lin Chin and George Donikian; Margaret Pomeranz and David Stratton, who hosted The Movie Show between 1986 and 2004; and sports broadcasters Damien Lovelock and Les Murray. Craig Foster, who spent 18 years as SBS's chief football analyst, believes the network's purpose was best described by Murray, who died in 2019. 'Way back in the '80s, it was Les who rightly said that SBS is [an affirmation] of the value of pluralism and multiple ancestries,' Foster says. 'It didn't matter whether you spoke Turkish, Greek or Italian – that should be celebrated.' Foster recalls the semi-final between South Korea and Germany at the 2002 FIFA World Cup with a particular fondness. 'There were hundreds of thousands of people watching that game with immense passion,' he says. 'And it was SBS that not only understood that fact, it celebrated it. In effect, what SBS was saying is, 'We are all connected through this game and we respect you as equal Australians. Your parents might have been looked down upon, but we want you to know that we love it when you speak different languages and we love it when you wear your ceremonial dress. In other words, we get you'.' Anton Enus, who hosts the World News bulletins on Fridays and Saturdays, echoes this sentiment. 'I came here from South Africa in 1999 and SBS really helped me embrace this nation that was new to me,' he says. 'As a migrant, you also want to feel connected [to your home country], so you're always looking for someone who sounds like you or speaks your language. But another great thing about SBS is that it teaches you about other cultures you might not have any direct connection to. You might start watching an Italian movie and before you know it, you're completely sucked in because it's something totally different to what you'd get from Hollywood or the BBC.' For managing director Taylor, this is the raison d'etre for the network. 'I regard SBS as a national broadcaster that tells the stories of all Australians,' he says. 'The Australia you see when you tune into any one of our channels or platforms is the same Australia you see when you walk out your front door.'
Sydney Morning Herald
17 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
How SBS evolved from ‘clogs and cooking' into our most innovative broadcaster
For some Australians, it was the soccer that first prompted them to watch SBS. Others came for its flagship World News bulletin; current affairs programs such as Dateline, Insight and Living Black; or cult hits including South Park, Queer as Folk and Fat Pizza. And for many teenagers, its racy international films served as a reliable drawcard (and a gateway drug to the appreciation of arthouse cinema). But for Julia Zemiro, SBS was a lifeline to her home country. 'I was born in France and did all my primary education at a French school in Australia,' says the popular presenter, who has hosted several series and specials for the broadcaster including RocKwiz, Who Do You Think You Are?, Great Australian Walks and the Eurovision Song Contest. 'To have all those French films and TV shows was incredible. There was French radio but to see those images on TV made you feel even more connected.' This month, the Special Broadcasting Service – affectionately dubbed the 'Sex Between Soccer' network by viewers – marks its 50th anniversary. And there is much to celebrate: over the course of five decades, it has evolved from two experimental radio stations (2EA in Sydney and 3EA in Melbourne; EA standing for 'Ethnic Australia') into a radio network broadcasting in 68 languages, as well as six television channels. In 2014, its share of the TV audience was 5.2 per cent; last year, it was 9.3 per cent. And its SBS On Demand service has grown by 18 per cent over the past 12 months, with almost 2.25 million active accounts logging into the platform in April alone. 'SBS has been a constant companion of multiculturalism in Australia,' says the network's managing director, James Taylor. 'I'm reminded of the Noel Pearson Boyer Lecture from 2022, where he spoke about the story of Australia resting on three pillars: our First Nations heritage, the British institutional foundations and the multicultural gift of migration. I like to think that SBS sits at the intersection of these pillars by brokering understanding, belonging and mutual respect.' When SBS was launched by the Whitlam government in 1975, it had a narrow aim: to inform non-English speaking Australians of the Medibank public health system, now known as Medicare. Indeed, it was intended to operate for just three months, until its success prompted the government to acknowledge the value of a permanent multicultural broadcaster in a country with a booming migrant population. In 1980, SBS expanded into television, with the Fraser government appointing former ABC chair Bruce Gyngell as its first chief executive. 'I was horrified with the concept they had,' Gyngell later recalled. 'It sounded to me like a typical sort of ethnic station with dancing and clogs and exotic cooking and not much more than that. The sense of culture seemed to be totally absent.' What Gyngell wanted was a channel that would encourage migrants to feel embraced by their adopted country – and to foster a greater appreciation and understanding of their cultures among Australian-born citizens. Loading 'If SBS had never existed, we'd understand so much less about ourselves,' says Jenny Brockie, who hosted the acclaimed Insight program between 2001 and 2020. 'It encouraged us to celebrate our differences while recognising that we're all part of a community, which I think is its biggest contribution. And at a programming level, SBS has been a real innovator; it's a place where a lot of risks have been taken.' Insight is a good example: under Brockie, it evolved from a magazine format into a discussion forum. Each episode is devoted to a single topic, from domestic terrorism to the pain of betrayal, with a studio audience – as opposed to a panel of talking heads – sharing their views and experiences. This might seem like a recipe for Jerry Springer-style conflict but in reality, Insight is among the most thoughtful and illuminating programs on Australian television. 'Every single person in the room is nurtured by producers through extensive conversations over a long period of time,' says Insight's current host, Kumi Taguchi. 'We don't do gotcha moments; if somebody says they don't want to discuss a particular part of their experience, we never cross that line. We're transparent with our guests about who else will be in the room, and the fact there will be differing opinions, which helps build trust and understanding. About 80 per cent of the work is done behind the scenes before people even get into the studio.' 'We were allowed to be a bit more bold than we might have been on a commercial network.' Julia Zemiro Long before Taguchi joined SBS, she was an avid viewer of the network. 'It brought a new kind of quirkiness and irreverence to our screens,' she says. 'Everyone would talk about the late-night world movies, and it was the only station at the time to show South Park. I really like the way it pushed those boundaries.' Loading Zemiro agrees. 'We were allowed to be a bit more bold than we might have been on a commercial network,' she says. 'As a viewer, you'd see things that were a bit sexy or dangerous. SBS showed soccer before anyone gave a shit about soccer. We could say things like, 'Colonialism isn't great' or 'These animals are suffering and we need to do something about it'. And with [music quiz show] RocKwiz, they just let us go for it and be creative, which is pretty rare.' Of course, SBS – which receives about one third of its funding from commercial sponsors and the rest from taxpayers – is not immune to the difficulties facing free-to-air broadcasters in 2025. This is largely due to technological advances, which spawned direct rivals such as Netflix, Stan* and Disney+. (Meanwhile, Google and Meta now account for an estimated 70 per cent of digital advertising spend.) But technology has also been a boon for the network, allowing it to maintain its multilingual programming while reaching new audiences through SBS On Demand and additional channels such as Viceland, World Movies, Food, WorldWatch and NITV. Karla Grant, a Western Arrernte woman, joined SBS in 1995 as a producer and reporter on ICAM, the network's first Indigenous affairs program. In 2002, she created the acclaimed Living Black, which she hosts to this day, and she is one of the main presenters on the National Indigenous Television channel, which became part of SBS in 2012. Loading 'SBS has been a leader in terms of Indigenous programming and storytelling, giving First Nations people a platform and a voice they don't have anywhere else,' Grant says. 'But NITV and Living Black also play a huge part in informing and educating our nation about First Nations issues, history and culture, which is something we want to share with the rest of the country and the world. It's an important role and I think we do it well.' Among the reporting Grant is most proud of is an investigation called Taken, which examined the growing number of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children being removed from their homes by authorities. 'Everyone talks about the stolen generations as though they're a thing of the past,' she says. 'In fact, it's still happening today. We did a story about kids in detention, and how one boy had to drink from the toilet in his cell because the guard wouldn't let him have fresh water. A lot of people wrote to me saying, 'We had no idea this type of thing still happens, but it's an appalling breach of human rights'.' Over the past three decades, Grant has also told countless positive stories. Loading 'We shine a light on all the great things that are happening in our communities and the people who are making huge contributions to our country' she says. 'It's entertaining but it's also educating people at the same time.' The same could be said of many SBS dramas. East West 101, which was set in a major crime squad, explored issues of race and justice; Deep Water was based on unsolved gay hate murders in the 1980s; and New Gold Mountain captured the racial tensions of Victoria's goldfields in the 1850s. There have been warm-hearted comedies such as The Family Law, based on Benjamin Law's memoir of the same name; the groundbreaking documentary series Struggle Street, which detailed the reality of living in poverty in Australia; and the hit reality show Alone Australia, in which survivalists attempt to live by themselves for as long as possible in the wilderness. Among the network's best-known former presenters are newsreaders Lee Lin Chin and George Donikian; Margaret Pomeranz and David Stratton, who hosted The Movie Show between 1986 and 2004; and sports broadcasters Damien Lovelock and Les Murray. Craig Foster, who spent 18 years as SBS's chief football analyst, believes the network's purpose was best described by Murray, who died in 2019. 'Way back in the '80s, it was Les who rightly said that SBS is [an affirmation] of the value of pluralism and multiple ancestries,' Foster says. 'It didn't matter whether you spoke Turkish, Greek or Italian – that should be celebrated.' Foster recalls the semi-final between South Korea and Germany at the 2002 FIFA World Cup with a particular fondness. 'There were hundreds of thousands of people watching that game with immense passion,' he says. 'And it was SBS that not only understood that fact, it celebrated it. In effect, what SBS was saying is, 'We are all connected through this game and we respect you as equal Australians. Your parents might have been looked down upon, but we want you to know that we love it when you speak different languages and we love it when you wear your ceremonial dress. In other words, we get you'.' Anton Enus, who hosts the World News bulletins on Fridays and Saturdays, echoes this sentiment. 'I came here from South Africa in 1999 and SBS really helped me embrace this nation that was new to me,' he says. 'As a migrant, you also want to feel connected [to your home country], so you're always looking for someone who sounds like you or speaks your language. But another great thing about SBS is that it teaches you about other cultures you might not have any direct connection to. You might start watching an Italian movie and before you know it, you're completely sucked in because it's something totally different to what you'd get from Hollywood or the BBC.' For managing director Taylor, this is the raison d'etre for the network. 'I regard SBS as a national broadcaster that tells the stories of all Australians,' he says. 'The Australia you see when you tune into any one of our channels or platforms is the same Australia you see when you walk out your front door.'
Sydney Morning Herald
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘There's always one person': The show taking a funny and frank look at filmmaking
Among the boundary-pushing new dramas selected for Screen Australia and SBS' Digital Originals initiative this 50th anniversary year of the Special Broadcasting Service is one that goes inside the industry itself. Based on the professional experiences of its Nyul Nyul/Yawuru creator and co-director Jub Clerc, Warm Props is a funny and scathing look at cultural ignorance and exploitation within filmmaking, alongside a moving homecoming story. 'There's definitely been some things that have happened on sets that have caught me by surprise,' says Clerc. 'Sometimes it's a mistake – people just not being educated about First Nations culture. It becomes problematic because when you're the only First Nations person on set, you don't just work your job, you work the job of cultural advisor … 'The majority of cast and crew are just golden. But unfortunately, there's always one person who spoils it for everybody. This film is exposing people in the industry that take cultural appreciation too far, or who are unconsciously biased, culturally blind or outright racist.' Loading A film within a film set in Broome, Warm Props – its title refers to the industry slang for extras – stars Yolngu actor Rarriwuy Hick (Wentworth, True Colours) as local identity Aunty Jilby, and newcomer Tehya Makani, a Yawuru/Wadjarri, Pitjanjarra and Wadjuk actor, as Charlie, a 'warm props wrangler'. The pair share a painful family history and are forced to confront their rift while working on an autobiographical film by a narcissistic white 'writer/director/producer' named Keith, who believes he has acquired a 'bush name' from a local mob and therefore identifies as Aboriginal, trampling all over cultural customs in the process. Clerc says there was only ever one actor for this unforgiving role: Mystery Road actor Peter Docker. 'Peter Docker is a great ally,' says Clerc. 'So I knew there would be no moment in any of our conversations where his white fragility would step up and go, 'Oh, but we don't do that!' I knew I could just talk to him and there wouldn't be any cotton-ball babysitting.'
The Age
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Age
‘There's always one person': The show taking a funny and frank look at filmmaking
Among the boundary-pushing new dramas selected for Screen Australia and SBS' Digital Originals initiative this 50th anniversary year of the Special Broadcasting Service is one that goes inside the industry itself. Based on the professional experiences of its Nyul Nyul/Yawuru creator and co-director Jub Clerc, Warm Props is a funny and scathing look at cultural ignorance and exploitation within filmmaking, alongside a moving homecoming story. 'There's definitely been some things that have happened on sets that have caught me by surprise,' says Clerc. 'Sometimes it's a mistake – people just not being educated about First Nations culture. It becomes problematic because when you're the only First Nations person on set, you don't just work your job, you work the job of cultural advisor … 'The majority of cast and crew are just golden. But unfortunately, there's always one person who spoils it for everybody. This film is exposing people in the industry that take cultural appreciation too far, or who are unconsciously biased, culturally blind or outright racist.' Loading A film within a film set in Broome, Warm Props – its title refers to the industry slang for extras – stars Yolngu actor Rarriwuy Hick (Wentworth, True Colours) as local identity Aunty Jilby, and newcomer Tehya Makani, a Yawuru/Wadjarri, Pitjanjarra and Wadjuk actor, as Charlie, a 'warm props wrangler'. The pair share a painful family history and are forced to confront their rift while working on an autobiographical film by a narcissistic white 'writer/director/producer' named Keith, who believes he has acquired a 'bush name' from a local mob and therefore identifies as Aboriginal, trampling all over cultural customs in the process. Clerc says there was only ever one actor for this unforgiving role: Mystery Road actor Peter Docker. 'Peter Docker is a great ally,' says Clerc. 'So I knew there would be no moment in any of our conversations where his white fragility would step up and go, 'Oh, but we don't do that!' I knew I could just talk to him and there wouldn't be any cotton-ball babysitting.'
Otago Daily Times
05-05-2025
- General
- Otago Daily Times
The kind of alchemy a Patearoa writer happily endorses
Years ago, when family trees were all the rage, genealogists would painstakingly produce family trees which resembled an impenetrable forest of little use to those outside the family. Of late, though, family histories have told the personal stories of the family members and the general reader is presented with gems of local history. The latest to come my way is The Hore Alchemists -Turning Cornish Tin to Maniototo Gold . When you live for a few years in a place like Maniototo you soon get to know of the long-standing families, like those who have been here since the 1863 gold rush or who took up farming in the 1890s. Among the families who formed the backbone of the region are the Hore immigrants, who left the tin mines of Cornwall to seek the gold of Central Otago. Their descendants have made their mark in farming, sport and a dozen community activities. Their stories, now an interweaving of several generations, come together as a regional history rather than simply a narrow family memoir. Felicity Brown, now of Sydney, is a Hore descendant and her husband Shaun, one-time boss at TNVZ and then of Australia's Special Broadcasting Service, has brought a lifetime of journalism skills to turning the family tree into a rattling good yarn which tells us more about a pioneering family than the "obituary of a great man" style of writing common in the old days. The author has walked over the ground in Cornwall, fossicked in local archives and pulled together an explanation for the exodus of one family group from the tin mines. Though drawn to Maniototo by the gold at Hamiltons, a field dominated by Cornish miners, the Hore family were soon involved in business and farming, prospering many years after the gold had been worked out. Their experiences, shared by many other pioneer families, included financial crises, early deaths, illness both physical and mental, and ultimately success in fields far removed from digging for riches. Perhaps best of all for the history buff is that "family" histories are using the resources once the preserve of mainstream historians but now widely available through digitised archival material. More photographs are being used, which gives us much more than wedding pictures and portraits of Granddad. Exploring the content of old photos has become a bit of a hobby for me so let's take one from The Hore Alchemists which appears because it shows the Waipiata store established by family patriarch Silas Hore. A poignant picture, as Silas' house and store were demolished years ago and the site is now a playground. The photo was taken in 1905 and, while the store is the reason it's there, the picture is a window on one year at Waipiata and I'll digress from the family story for a moment to ponder the scene. There's a telephone pole at the left and close examination shows a wire leading from it to a flag-topped pole then across the dusty main street to a small wooden building, the post office. The coming of the telephone to Waipiata is in that picture. As the Otago Central Railway crept inland a telegraph line accompanied it and both reached Waipiata in 1898. The locals gazed at this new wonder and felt it should not be restricted to railways. A petition gathered 26 signatures asking for the phone line to be extended into the township. The petitioners wanted the phone no more than 100 yards from the station, perhaps in the nearest store. The curiously titled Superintendent of Electric Lines offered to install the line if £8 ($2000 today) was paid at once. He pointed out that revenue from the line would be £18 a year but construction costs would have been £20, leaving a deficit of £2. In spite of this, the line went ahead and the telephone was available from the post office from January 6, 1900, with Annie Jones running the service. The photo also shows the Waipiata Hotel under licensee Hugh Cleland, who had taken over in 1905, and the hall owned by the hotel built by Patrick McAtamney, founder of another Maniototo dynasty. The remnants of bills on the wall are a reminder that touring shows used the hall, while the cow on the roadside illustrates the rural ambience which Waipiata still enjoys and flags on poles at either end of Main Street suggest that in 1905 Waipiata had something to celebrate. Perhaps yet another win by the Original All Blacks. On Sunday afternoon at the Waipiata pub the township and the wider Hore domain covering most of Maniototo will celebrate the launching of their new history. I've been invited to say a few words but don't worry if you can't get to the pub because you've already read most of them. • Jim Sullivan is a Patearoa writer.
