Channel 4's new chief executive Andy Duncan will have much to ponder when he begins his new job tomorrow - not least the never-ending argument about the quality of its programming. 'Channel 4 has been selling its soul for years' said one industry executive last week, referring to the 'shock docs' and reality TV that currently dominate its schedule.
That may sound harsh, but if Duncan had tuned in to Channel 4 last Wednesday, he might have concluded that the claim has some credence. Big Brother, the mother of all reality TV shows, was the climax to an evening that included How Clean is Your House?, Honey I Ruined the House and Supernanny. Where are the minority programmes? Or the daring 'yoof TV' that was so often derided, but on which the channel built its identity?
Examining Channel 4's prime-time schedule on the same date 10 years ago may not be the most scientific way of contrasting its content, but it is instructive nevertheless. The evening of 14 July 1994 contained its quota of light entertainment in the shape of The Crystal Maze - a game show, albeit an unconventional one. But there was also coverage of minority sport (the Tour de France) and an award-winning documentary about the plight of underprivileged American schoolchildren.
Channel 4 argues that its summer schedule is not representative. Less populist programming, including the acclaimed drama series Shameless and documentaries like Death in Gaza and The Transplant Trade, is much in evidence during the rest of the year, as the channel's director of television, Kevin Lygo, explained last week.
'I am stuck in the fourth ring of the ninth circle of hell,' he wrote, complaining about the 'mindlessly repetitive' discussion about the channel's perceived 'flight from content'.
Other executives complain that the channel is 'punished' for its success. 'There is a sense that we are only fulfilling our public service role if we are unpopular. It's such a load of bollocks,' says its controller of broadcasting, Rosemary Newell.
Channel 4 also points out that it has a higher share of the upmarket ABC1 audience than BBC2, its publicly funded counterpart (11.1 per cent versus BBC2's 11 per cent in the first six months of 2004), which has itself copied many of Channel 4's innovative programme formats. Even so, the channel's schedule - like those of its competitors - is dominated by reality TV. It is remarkably reliant on Big Brother, which generates a huge proportion of its annual revenue, and a spate of similar programmes, including Wife Swap, that sit alongside eye-opening documentaries about breast augmentation and penis enlargement.
Station insiders refer to it as 'pornography with a purpose'. Critics regard it as a naked attempt to win viewers by betraying the editorial values that were enshrined at the channel's inception. 'Channel 4 argues that Wife Swap is serious factual programming that examines social issues', says one industry source. 'In fact, it's salacious tabloid crap.'
But even here, opinions vary. The New Statesman described Wife Swap as 'the most important documentary series of the decade'. Nevertheless, in a sense that is to miss the point. If the number of ratings-chasing TV shows has increased, that is partly because the broadcasting climate has changed beyond recognition since Channel 4 was created in 1982 to 'demonstrate innovation, experimentation and creativity' and 'appeal to the tastes and interests of a culturally diverse society'.
Its unique status as a publicly owned but commercially funded channel has always been paradoxical. Like his predecessors, Duncan must balance Channel 4's public-service ethos against the need to please the advertisers on which its revenue depends. In a future where it will be just one of several hundred channels, this will be more difficult than ever.
There has been a fierce battle for eyeballs in recent years. First, Channel 5 began broadcasting a heady mix of sex and gruesome docu-dramas. Then Greg Dyke decided the best way to justify the licence fee was for the BBC to pursue audience share, shunting Panorama and the news aside to make way for shows such as Fame Academy.
That policy may now be reversed by Dyke's successor (and Duncan's predecessor at Channel 4) Mark Thompson. But digital television, which is now available in some form in nearly half of British households, represents a more lasting threat to every terrestrial broadcaster. Channel 4 must launch more digital channels like E4 in order to preserve its audience share.
Thompson was prepared to contemplate closer co-operation, or even a merger, with Channel 5 (which has no digital presence) in order to achieve that - a plan that will be at the top of Duncan's in-tray, as will Ofcom's review into public-service broadcasting.
ITV has lobbied hard to be released from its public-service requirements, estimating that that could save it up to £250 million. Duncan is likely to use similar arguments, claiming that Channel 4's definition should be widened to encompass popular shows that appeal to minorities as well as programmes made specifically to cater for their tastes.
He may also cite the BBC's huge investment in digital television as a reason to further relax the terms of Channel 4's remit. After all, BBC3 and BBC4 could eventually meet the public's demand for innovative and high-culture content, leaving Channel 4 free to produce more mainstream fare.
Ofcom will also make recommendations about the way that public-sector broadcasting is funded and delivered. Even radical options such as 'top-slicing' the licence fee and handing a chunk of money to Channel 4 cannot be ruled out.
In the meantime, Duncan must continue to do the advertisers' bidding - although it is worth remembering that that has always been the case. Nor was there a golden age of highbrow excellence, as Lygo is quick to acknowledge: 'Channel 4's glorious, smut-free past includes Mini Pops, The Red Light Zone, Dyke TV and Pantyhead,' he points out.