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The community perceives its central institutions as a stronghold of its core values and expects them to guard it both against individual transgressions and against more profound threats to the community. However, Broadchurch presents institutions, too, as sites of generational conflict and modernisation. The series shows representatives of the church, the press, the judiciary, and – of course – the police as torn between the pressure to serve the community and the need to fulfil their own particular professional code in the framework of a society in transition. In the end, as the character constellations and plot developments suggest, each of the institutions is shown to be only as good as the individuals who work for, and while representatives of each institution are ‘fighting the good fight’, ambitious and ruthless members of the younger generation are challenging their authority and indicate incipient changes that go far beyond well-known generational conflicts, and threaten to destroy the very essence of these institutions.

The institution of the church is an exception within this general structure, as it is represented solely by the character of the vicar, Paul (Arthur Darvill). The very fact that the church plays a role here shows the relatively conservative, traditional orientation of the community. The vicar is still a figure of respect and authority, and the church is still an institution that people turn to in moments of crisis and need. Throughout the series, Paul gives several sermons in which he invokes and encourages the congregation’s sense of community: “If we are not a community of neighbours, then we are nothing.” (S1/E6, 00:07) Becca, who later becomes his girlfriend, commends him for this “nice bit of community leadership” (ibid.). Many townspeople seek Paul’s advice, and even though the Latimers are not a religious family, they come to him for marriage counselling. When young Tom Miller and Michael Lucas (Deon Lee-Williams) are caught watching pornography, they are sent to him for punishment, which affirms his role as a moral authority in the community (S3/E3, 00:15). Paul also assumes responsibility to protect his parishioners: when the elderly shop owner is subjected to the local witch hunt, Paul requests the detectives to protect him, albeit with little success (S1/E5, 00:27).

Nonetheless, the church is clearly an institution in crisis. With the exception of funerals and times of great distress, the services are almost empty (S3/E2, 00:31), and Ellie tells Alec that her family only go to church at Easter if they remember after the egg hunt, to which he caustically replies: “And so does Christianity fall.” (S1/E4, 00:19) The vicar himself tries his best to be a part of the community and help the parishioners in need, but he is often helpless in the face of suffering, and he is a troubled figure himself, a recovering alcoholic full of self-doubt. When the national media become interested in Broadchurch, and he gives interviews praising the local community (S1/E2, 00:40), he is even accused of trying to profit from the murder: Mark Latimer asks him if he enjoyed his “moment of glory” (ibid.), and Alec Hardy tells him he felt he was “too eager to get in front of the camera, claiming all this for the church” (S1/E6, 00:28). Alec, the prototypical cynical detective, clearly considers himself and his work as the more substantial moral corrective to society. Paul, however, points out the shortcomings of the police: “People came to me because there was a fear that you couldn’t address, a gap you couldn’t plug.” (ibid.) On the whole, Paul and the institution he represents are shown to be hanging in the balance – they still have a function within the community, but this function seems rather secular, and even when approaching the vicar for help, people are always quick to say that they are unsure about the spiritual side of things – or, as Ellie’s father puts it rather more explicitly: “I’m not into all that bullshit.” (S2/E3, 00:15) Paul is happy to adapt his help to the secular, psychological needs of his parishioners, but he realises that he is not always up to this task and that other institutions provide this service more efficiently. Paradoxically, in the third series he tells Beth (Jodie Whittaker), who often sought his counsel after her son was killed, that he envies her for her new job as a social worker who helps women after sexual assaults (S3/E5, 00:27). Eventually, he faces up to the lack of interest in the church and leaves the parish, effectively putting a seal on the rapid decline and vanishing of his institution in modern society.

The vicar’s brief appearance on television, which already jeopardises his reputation, reveals the general distrust attached to the media, which is under suspicion of pursuing financial gain and fame rather than moral objectives. However, the series also represents the local newspaper as an important local institution, which provides social cohesion and monitors other institutions. The editor of the local paper, Maggie (Carolyn Pickles), has a strong sense of community and of the moral obligations of her profession. She keeps employing an unreliable photographer on the grounds that “[w]e look after our own here” (S1/E1, 00:12); organises the community to express their sympathy towards the bereaved Latimers in a condolence book; and keeps her young, ambitious protegé Olly, Ellie’s nephew (Jonathan Bailey), on a short leash, making him apologise when he has overstepped the mark by rashly publishing private information online (S1/E1, 00:35). Maggie’s moral code is strongly linked to both her small-town paper and to her advanced age, which is emphasised when a young, ruthless antagonist from a national paper appears on the scene. This journalist, Karen (Vicky McClure), wins the trust of the Latimers and of Olly whilst exploiting them for her own purpose and bringing national media attention down on the small town. Selling the story to her editor, Karen describes Broadchurch as an “idyllic market town” and the Latimers as a “model family” with a highly photogenic mother (E1/S4, 00:50). This cynical, marketing-oriented approach to a family’s tragedy is an implied criticism of professional journalism and media coverage in general.

During the course of events, the initially strong contrast between Maggie and Karen is qualified: while Karen tries to represent local events and backgrounds fairly and truthfully, her ruthless editor changes and sensationalises her work without asking. Karen also acts as unofficial media advisor to the Latimers and as self-appointed supervisor of the detectives’ work. She is deeply distrustful of DI Hardy’s abilities as an investigator, having reported on his previous case, the yet-unsolved murder of two young girls in Sandbrook. While Karen’s position thus becomes more complex than a purely evil counterpart to Maggie, series three introduces a new antagonist, as the Broadchurch Echo is taken over by a news conglomerate and Maggie has to answer to a young superior who has no interest whatsoever in the needs of the local community and patronises her by saying: “Times change, Maggie. Don’t get left behind.” (S3/E2, 00:12) During two scenes in the third series, Maggie swaps stories with vicar Paul about the decline in their institutions, and in the second of these they have both decided to leave their jobs. Maggie, however, does not seem to be left behind by modern times, since she has decided to start her own Youtube channel and become a ‘vlogger’. This shows that the media are not merely changing values and turning into impersonal, immoral conglomerates, but that new media also offer possibilities for individuals to practise their own kind of journalism without interference from superiors. Compared to public institutions such as the system of justice, those working in the media have less security, but also more flexibility.

The judiciary system only plays a role in the second series of Broadchurch, which combines the tropes of both whodunit and courtroom drama as the detectives are simultaneously working on the Sandbrook case and Danny Latimer’s murderer is standing trial. The judiciary is presented in a similar way as journalism. The trial takes place not in the town itself but at the fictitious Wessex crown court, but Jocelyn, the prosecutor, has been a part of the Broadchurch community for years, and the defence team bears down on the town during the trial, trying to find details that will challenge the case of the prosecution. Jocelyn is a parallel figure to Maggie, the editor, and indeed a close friend of Maggie and – eventually – her lover. She is a formidable, authoritative figure, has a strict moral and professional code, and strongly believes that the law is essentially a noble calling (S2/E8, 00:36). Interestingly, her eyesight is failing and she is slowly going blind – on the level of character and plot, this adds another dark secret, and on a more abstract intertextual level, this is an implied reference to Lady Justice, whose blindfold ensures that she is unbiased in her judgement. However, in Jocelyn’s case, the symbolic meaning is double-edged, since her failing eyesight could also mean that she is no longer up to the task or “past it”, as one of her young antagonists suggests (E2/S7, 00:39).

Just as Maggie, Jocelyn is challenged by such representatives of a younger, more ruthless generation, whose ethics are informed by a pragmatic Kürwille (arbitrary will) instead of the Wesenswille (essential will). Her former protégée, Sharon (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), acts as leading counsel for the defence and is prepared to “fight dirty” (E2/S1, 00:40), with no intention of sparing the bereaved family further pain. She calls the judiciary system “a loaded, lopsided game full of people justifying that cynicism as a higher calling” (E2/S8, 00:05). Her junior, Abby (Phoebe Waller-Bridge), is even more cynical and completely lacking in empathy or moral feeling; she is simply interested in winning the case, and the defence team does win. The reasons for this are twofold: firstly, they are rooted in the system of justice, in which the process of assembling and discrediting evidence is not strictly fact-oriented, but a performance that is meant to influence the minds of the jury, which Alec dismisses as “twelve ordinary, stupid, easily swayed, hard-of-thinking assholes” (E2/S8, 00:03).1 Secondly, the reasons lie in mistakes and all-too-human failures committed by those involved in the Latimer case, particularly the police officers. The biggest among these is Alec’s decision to let Ellie into the cell of her husband Joe after he was arrested for the murder of Danny Latimer and Ellie’s subsequent beating of Joe, which leads to the exclusion of Joe’s previous confession from the trial.

The series thus implicitly asks a number of interesting questions about morality vs. justice, individuals vs. institutions, and facts vs. emotions without offering any clear-cut answers or judgements. While the teams of prosecution and defence are presenting the procedures and results of the police investigation in court, they seem to apply an objective, empirical perspective, which finds the all-too human, emotionally charged actions of the police and the witnesses wanting. However, the actions of the legal teams themselves are not objective or fact-oriented, but a performance that is geared to raising certainties, doubts, and emotions in the (equally all-too-human) minds of the jury.2 As Beth bitterly concludes after the verdict: “He’s got off by playing the system.” (E2/S8, 00:04) For her and the community, the verdict clearly shows that justice is not to be expected from a system which is not part of the traditional structures of the community but an essentially depersonalised, anonymous institution both geographically and socially outside of town.

The police as an institution, here mainly represented by the detectives Alec Hardy and Ellie Miller, is positioned in contrast to the judiciary system. Despite the flaws in police procedure which the defence team successfully exploits to challenge the seemingly clear-cut case, the police is the institution which appears closest to the community and which has the interest of the individuals at heart, and shares the moral sense of the community. The reasons for this, and the particular constellation and development of the detectives, will be discussed in the next chapter in further detail. At this point, it suffices to say that the police force, in particular its main representatives Alec and Ellie, is the one – and, it seems, only – institution in Broadchurch that manages to successfully combine the virtues of the old, communal society with the new, associational society, i.e. professional procedures that are characterised by efficiency and rationality but employed by human beings with a strong, traditional moral code and respect for the community’s traditions.

After the end of the third series, a commentator in the Times summarised: “The two cops got their men, but this was also a series of defeats: the Latimer family sundered, the vicar departing, the good editor resigned.” (Billen) The strongholds of traditional values, the church and the old-fashioned local newspaper, are gone; among the official, professional institutions situated locally, only the police prevail. That the Latimer family is “sundered” is not quite true: the marriage of the parents, Beth and Mark, is over, and Mark leaves the town, but Beth and her daughters are doing well and are still embedded in their circle of friends. Thus, it is the institution of marriage rather than the family that is shown to be in decline. On the whole, the institutions of the church, the judiciary, the newspaper and the police have a complex, double-sided relationship to the community and its process of change: on the one hand, as traditional representatives of social order, they are expected to uphold moral standards and reinforce existing social rules, and in times of crisis the town looks to them for help. On the other hand, these professional institutions are being reformed by a younger generation and are under most pressure to let their work be guided by efficiency and rational calculation, not by personal emotions or traditional moralities. Thus, the representatives of these institutions – particularly the older ones such as Maggie and Jocelyn – are, willy-nilly, both agents of change and moral strongholds against change.