The journalist as amateur scientist

Paul Romer has talked about two types of discourse, one political and one scientific. He uses that distinction to critique aspects of current practice among economists. I want to do the same for journalism.

Political discourse involves taking sides, and promoting things that your side favours. It is like a school debate: you consider only evidence that favours the point of view you want to promote. Scientific discourse involves considering each piece of evidence on its merits. You do not aim to promote, but assess and come to a conclusion based on the evidence. That does not prevent the scientist arguing a case, but their argument is based on considering all the relevant evidence. There are no sides that are always right or invariably wrong.

Of course, any scientist makes choices about what evidence is relevant, and this will be influenced by existing theories. Ideally the theory you prefer can be changed by new evidence, but scientists being only humans can sometimes be reluctant to accept evidence that contradicts long held theories. But there are always younger scientists looking for new ideas to make their name. The scientific method works in time, which is why we are where we are today.

My argument is that journalists should be like amateur scientists. Amateur because part of their work will involve seeking out expertise rather than starting from scratch, and they do not have the time or resources to investigate each story as a scientist might. A term frequently used is ‘investigative journalist’, but that normally means someone who has weeks to work on one story. Instead I’m talking about journalists who only have a day. The key point is that they should not search for evidence that fits the story they wanted to write before doing any research, but allow the evidence to shape the story.

For example, suppose the story is about EU immigrants and benefits. What a journalist should note is that unemployment among EU immigrants is lower than natives. What a journalist who wants to write a story that makes immigrants look bad might do is say that the number of EU immigrants without a job make up a city the size of Bristol. This combines selection of evidence (where is the equivalent figure for natives is not reported) with simple deception: most people conflate ‘without a job’ with ‘unemployed’, rather than being people happy looking after children, for example.

If this all strikes you as obvious, at least to journalists working in broadsheet newspapers, the example above is taken from the Telegraph, and the post in which I discuss it contains a tweet from a Times economics editor saying that all journalists (and yours truly) take a stance and select facts that supports this stance.

There is actually a third type of journalism, which you could call acrobatic discourse, because it is always looking for balance. It is sometimes called ‘shape of the earth: sides differ’ journalism. Its merit is that it appears not to take sides, but as this extended name is meant to demonstrate, it is certainly not scientific. It is the kind of journalism that says the claim that £350 million a week goes to Brussels and could be spent on the NHS is ‘contested’, rather than simply untrue. In that sense, it can be uninformative and misleading, whereas scientific reporting is informative and is not misleading. Here is a twitter thread from Eric Umansky on a particularly bad example from the New York Times. Of course acrobatic journalism is easier and keeps the journalist out of trouble.

One of the side effects of acrobatic journalism is that it typically defines the two sides it wishes to balance. It therefore tends to be consensus journalism, where the consensus is defined by the politicians on either side. To see why this is problematic you just need to look at how Brexit is discussed and reported by the BBC since the referendum.

I began writing this post during the debate surrounding Nick Robinson’s Steve Hewlett Memorial Lecture. It is certainly strange for that debate to focus on outfits like The Canary, rather than the elephants in the room that produce political journalism to millions every day, who also tend to criticise the BBC whenever they get the opportunity. Yet the copy from these newspapers, and not The Canary, is regularly discussed by the broadcast media. The emergence of left social media journalism is a result of the consensus defining by-product of acrobatic journalism, which for a year or more defined the other side as the PLP rather than the Labour leadership.

I suspect many journalists would say that my idea of them being an amateur scientist is just impractical in this day and age, when they have so little time and resources. But what I have in mind (journalism as amateur scientists) is not very different from what journalists on the Financial Times do day in and day out. Chris Cook is an example of a journalist working in the broadcast media who does the same. But it is wrong to blame individual journalists for being more acrobatic than scientific, because the institutions they work for often demand it.

Nick Robinson’s lecture is much more nuanced and interesting that the subsequent media discussion would suggest. For example he identifies the problem with the way Facebook selects news that is discussed in more detail by Zeynep Tufekci in this TED talk. But there are two elephants in the room that he fails to discuss: the role of the increasingly politicised right wing press I have already mentioned, and the conflict between scientific and acrobatic journalism, both of which he praises without addressing the conflicts between them. [1]

[1] There is a clear example of this in the comments he recalls making on the Brexit debate just before the vote. He proudly says he called the £350 million claim untrue, but he then adds

“I did, incidentally, also say that the Remain claim that every household in Britain would be £4,300 a year better off was misleading and impossible to verify.”

This is acrobatic journalism at its worse. Yes, the BBC did think the £4,300 figure was ‘misleading’, but only because they did not talk to an economist who would have told you it was not. It shows a failure to be a good amateur scientist. But worse that that, this clumsy attempt at balance puts the central claim of the Remain campaign in the same bracket as £350 million a week lie, which it certainly is not.

The myth of No Deal

It suits the government to keep talking about the possibility of No Deal for as long as the first stage negotiations continue, for three reasons. First, there is of course the remote possibility that the other side will believe it and make some concessions to avoid it. Second, as concessions are made on the UK side, it becomes a palliative to Brexiteers: maybe the Lion will roar in the end. Third, when the deal is finally done, the collective response might be relief that No Deal has been avoided rather than indignation at the terms.

But how can I be confident that No Deal will not actually happen? First, there has as yet been nothing done to prepare for that consequence, as Chris Cook outlines. Now you could rightly respond that this government is not known for its rational planning so this means little. But the lack of planning means that No Deal will bring UK chaos: not just firms leaving or going bust but highly visual dislocations like lorries clogging up ports and motorways. It would look like total economic incompetence, like Black Wednesday on steroids. It might mean the Conservatives lose not one but two or three general elections.

That is not the legacy that May wants. The second reason No Deal will not happen is that she wants to be remembered, despite everything else, as the Prime Minister that got the deal done without destroying her party. The only way I can see of that not happening, given the pro-Brexit nature of Conservative Party members, is if she is unseated by Brexiteers. 

The chaos argument still applies. So those who try to remove May before a deal is done will be putting the terms of Brexit above party loyalty: not something you normally associate with Conservatives, but as Raphael Behr argues that is just what many Brexiteers might do. (An exception is surely Boris Johnson, who sees Brexit as his route to power and would prefer the safer route of the inevitable leadership election after the deal is done.) But they would need good cause, and the details of citizens rights, the divorce bill or even the terms of transition seem unlikely to be enough. What could trigger a revolt is if the EU presses the border issue at the first stage as I outlined here, forcing May to agree to stay in the customs union permanently or more likely abandon the DUP. Even then, there may be enough Remain MPs to block the challenge or enough members may choose to compromise rather than risk electoral oblivion.      

Yet although No Deal is very unlikely to happen, it will remain a myth long after the deal is done. It will become the excuse used by Brexiteers for why the post-EU period turns out to be no better and perhaps worse than its predecessor. If only we had ‘true Brexit’, they will say, things would have been different. Ironically a deal is useful to Brexiteers in that it gives them a story for why the sunlit uplands that they described during the referendum campaign did not come to pass.

However we should still be concerned about No Deal rhetoric for the following reason. If you were the head of a firm having to decide to make an investment which would lose money if there was No Deal, would you have the confidence based on the analysis above to go ahead with that investment right now? I think you would be far more likely to postpone until you saw what happened. In addition there are all the EU nationals in the UK who continue to face a horrible uncertainty about their status under No Deal, as well as the prospective EU immigrants who will not come for that reason. Talk of No Deal, even if it is cheap talk, has real economic and social costs.    

The UK goes back to the 1950s

I have always felt that the British were slightly obsessed by anniversaries, particularly if it involves anything to do with the two world wars. It seemed unhealthy, perhaps encouraging beliefs that should have died with our empire. And perhaps more generally it encourages an unhealthy nostalgia.

One of the clear dividing lines in the EU referendum between those voting Leave and those voting Remain was how they felt about the past. Asked if life in Britain was better or worse than it was 30 years ago, those voting Remain had a 46% balance saying better, while Leave voters had a 16% balance saying worse. While those on the left tend to see this as a protest by a working class left behind by de-industrialisation, it was also a protest by social conservatives who like to think of England as cricket on the village green.

The Brexit vote takes us back not to the 1970s when we joined, but back to the 1950s. Britain first tried to join the EU in 1961, but was rebuffed by De Gaulle in 1963. Theresa May’s call for the return of Grammar schools (selection into different schools at the age of 11) also takes us back to the 1950s. One of the major achievements of the Labour government of the 1960s was to largely phase out selection at 11.

The pretext May uses for reintroducing grammar schools is that it will help increase social mobility. The evidence is clear: it does not. A few local authorities did manage to retain grammar schools, and the evidence from them is also clear. The following graph is taken from a post by Chris Cook.

FT points are a measure of educational attainment. The graph clearly shows that while the very rich might do slightly better in areas where grammars remain, the poor do very much worse.

In short, reintroducing grammar schools is simply reactionary. We are going back to a time where class divisions were far more entrenched than they are now. It is possible that this can be avoided, but it requires those in the Conservative party who prefer living in this century to the last to say no to their Prime Minister. They could not stop the UK voting for Brexit, but they can stop this.