Public ideas
A guide to effective lying
Wenn man eine große Lüge erzählt und sie oft genug wiederholt, dann werden die Leute sie am Ende glauben
If a big lie is repeated often enough, eventually people will come to believe it.
Joseph Goebbels
There are two recent Conversation contributions about misinformation and disinformation.
The first, by a group of Australian and American academics, could be considered as a confirmation of Goebbels’ assertion, or what psychologists call the “illusory truth effect”: Repeating aids believing: climate misinformation feels more true through repetition - even if you back climate science.
As they point out, low quality or malicious information can be laundered through repetition and made to seem true and trustworthy.
They are particularly critical of the way traditional media operates on many issues, in terms of “balanced” reporting. “But balance can be easily gamed. Giving equal exposure to opposing voices can lead people to think there is less of an expert consensus.”
The best way to encounter this perception, on climate change at least, is to keep returning to the scientific consensus, where there is strong agreement.
And repeat.
The other Conversation contribution, from Timothy Graham of the Queensland University of Technology, is about the dissemination and stickability of misinformation during the Voice campaign: I studied how rumours and misleading information spread on X during the Voice referendum. The results paint a worrying picture.
He describes his research technique – linguistic analysis of 224 996 posts on X – and summarizes his findings.
The “Yes” messages were generally about “First Nations representation and equality, opportunities to make a difference and historical facts “. This was in line with established journalist lines, with an emphasis on fact-checking.
This contrasts with the “No” campaign messages:
Rather than blatant falsehoods or full-blown conspiracy theories, the most widely discussed posts from “no” campaigners were characterised by rumours, unverified information and conspiratorial assertions.
Prominent “no” campaigners portrayed the Voice as divisive, implying or arguing it would lead to drastic social changes such as apartheid. It was positioned as part of an alleged secret agenda to consolidate elite privilege and erode Australian democracy through risky constitutional changes.
Such claims are indisputably conspiratorial because they assert that powerful actors are hiding malevolent agendas, and because they lack credible and verified empirical evidence.
Contrary to the idea that social media is effective because it gives a voice to the uninformed rabble, he found that the posts receiving most engagements were from politicians, news media and opinion leaders. (That doesn’t mean the rabble is powerless: it probably means that their voice is conveyed through these more articulate channels.)
In confirmation of the theory that countering misinformation reinforces the messages of the spreaders of that misinformation, he found:
In trying to counter the “no” campaign’s messaging on X, many “yes” campaigners entered into a “defensive battle”. This drowned out their core message. It also amplified the fear and division narratives of the “no” campaign.
He clearly identified the tactics of the “No” campaign:
The “no” campaign’s messaging strategy was all about constructing a “truth market” in the public sphere. In other words, they created an environment where multiple – often conflicting – versions of the truth competed for dominance and where emotional resonance received more attention than reasoned debate.
That aligns with observations, often noted in these roundups, that Dutton and the “No” campaigners did not put forward considered arguments against the Voice, even though there were well-based arguments against the Voice. Dutton’s strategy was to avoid the policy debate because to have had such a debate would have involved engaging in an argument involving evidence and reason.
That points to how Dutton probably intends to campaign in next year’s election. It would be futile and counterproductive to argue directly against the lies and misinformation likely to emerge from the opposition. As Graham suggests, doing so would only add to the noise and confusion, to their benefit. Rather the prior argument has to be about how the campaign is to be conducted, inviting Dutton and his front bench to engage on the basis of evidence and reason, and if they choose not to, leaving them out in the weird never-never land with their Trumpist companions.
Cancel culture has infected the whole political spectrum
Melbourne Symphony Orchestra cancelled pianist Jayson Gillham’s next performance because of comments he made on the killing of Palestinian journalists in a recital. The comments were short (89 words) and were in the context of his five-minute piano solo “dedicated to the journalists of Gaza”.
According to the ABC’s Kate Ashton, who reported on the incident, Gillham normally made remarks about most of the pieces he played, and the performance attracted “big applause”.
It’s a reminder of the ubiquity of cancel culture. Writing in Quillette Josh Allan draws attention to a surge of people being sacked because of comments they made about the attempted shooting of Donald Trump: The Return of Right-Wing Cancel Culture. He mentions another Australian case – the cancellation of the planned tour by rock-band comedian Kyle Gass, who said “don’t miss Trump next time”.
Allan distinguishes between statements that are performative, and those that are incitements to violence. He also warns that those with an influential public voice should be particularly careful about making flippant remarks.
Does the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra’s policy of keeping politics out of music mean that they will never provide an orchestra for Beethoven’s Fidelio, or any of Verdi’s operas?
On Thursday the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra said it had made an error in cancelling Gillham’s concert. A reading of the account of this announcement suggests that it has unintentionally inflamed the politics of the situation.