Janus is the god after whom the Romans named the month of January. Usually depicted with two faces - one looking forward to the Spring and the other looking back to the dead of winter - he is used by Shakespeare as a symbol of Iago's duplicity, but is widely regarded as having been the Roman god of transition and change. As such, he is more relevant to Shakespeare's crumbling Othello than first meets the eye - the more so because the play itself was first performed at the beginning of a new, purposefully Protestant, reign, and the end of Elizabeth's.
The past is a foreign country, of course: they do things differently there. Nevertheless, for all the connotations of his two-faced statues, perhaps Janus needs to be invoked by some of us here. Not because we are coming to the end of a reign - there must be a good few years left in our beloved Brenda yet - but because the pace of change has hit home in some diverse ways this week.
One of our other beloved institutions, here in the UK, is the BBC. Like the Queen, it is in its ninth decade. This week it finds itself in crisis. It has been caught on the hop by a change it thought it understood and could control. Looking back, it might remind us of the way in which HM The Queen carried on applying the old rules in the face of popular outrage following the death of Diana. She was, of course, technically right in 1997 to say that there should be no state funeral and no lowering of the flag for the death of a commoner. Mild-mannered Brits, whipped up by the print media, watched astonished as they saw they had power, and a dumbstruck Royal Family accepted that the process did not control the reality. The Queen, CEO of the longest established and most stable business in the UK, came out and said she was wrong. In the years that followed, the monarchy modernised relentlessly - and enjoys unprecedented popularity today.
So, what has all this got to do with this week? Just over a week ago, the BBC ran a piece in its flagship Newsnight programme, flagged up via twitter feeds picked up by the nationals during the day, claiming that it was about to name a senior Tory as a paedophile linked with a decades old inquiry into child sex abuse in Wales. This is the same Newsnight whose editorial team were half-demolished in the wake of the Savile scandal that had rocked the programme a few weeks previously by failing to broadcast a piece suggesting Savile was a paedophile.
In the afternoon before the programme, fifteen minutes on my broken smartphone gave me the name of the man widely regarded by the Twitterati as likely to be outed; another hour, rather worryingly, some credible suggestions that the man in question was probably not the culprit. These were mostly ignored: trifles light as air were to Twitter confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ. The story that Newsnight was going to name a prominent Tory paedophile was all over the front pages of every national newspaper website, was trending on Twitter, and was, in short, every editor's dream.
The programme itself followed process. It punctiliously avoided naming anyone living as a member of the paedophile ring. This avoided the reality: anyone who was interested who had a computer could find out in seconds who was meant, and thereafter put two and two together - and make five. Most already had, as the tweets had clearly intended.
A few days later, the story unravelled; and those up early enough on Saturday could listen to the thinking woman's crumpet, John Humphrys, gently destroying the BBC's Director General, who admitted that he had had less knowledge of the content of the piece than I did. He hadn't seen the tweets, hadn't seen the programme, and hadn't seen some of the damning press coverage in the days that followed. Nothing extenuated, he laid bare his extraordinary ignorance about his business. It was gripping, squirming, listening. He resigned that evening, claiming honour - and why should honour outlive honesty? He had fulfilled the process. He had in place "processes that he thought were robust", but - lacking any curiosity, it seems - these had not resulted in anyone bringing this front-page news about a controversial, important, and floundering part of his remit to his attention. Even had it done so, he seemed unable to realise that not naming someone on air does not absolve a broadcaster of moral - and very probably legal - responsibility for implicating an innocent man in the most revolting crimes.
And there we have it. Lawyers are, basically, backward-looking. They look for precedent. What has happened before, happens again. And sadly, the BBC has proved to be much the same. Old processes remain in place, even against a local backdrop of an editorial team in disarray, and a wider backdrop of a reality of information exchange that is vastly bigger than we could have imagined five years ago. Against that backdrop, looking forward, the BBC must change: it - and the other elements of the media - become custodians rather than guardians of the truth. By Janus, I hope the BBC survives.