The great rottweiler of British political TV journalism, Jeremy Paxman, once said that before a live interview he’d asked himself one question : “Why is this lying bastard lying to me?”
It was a question characteristic of his waspish contempt for the British political class, whose members were routinely hauled into the BBC studios for maulings that enthralled the nation.
Paxman’s catchphrase came to mind as I entered the Berlaymont a couple of months ago to attend a little birthday party.
The guest of honour was not a person, but a code.
Specifically, the European Statistical Code of Practice, which had just turned 20. Lying bastards everywhere should be, and are terrified of the code, even if, in its infancy, it was not enough to save Eurostat from an almightly pummelling in the wake of the 2009 debt crisis.
But that was then, and since, It has come along way.
There was, sadly, no singing of Happy Birthday, no balloons, not even a cake or candles (although there was a modest drinks reception), but there were speeches.
And I was asked to say a few words on the importance of professional independence in the news media.
I mumbled on a bit about the way the BBC board was appointed (the chair is in the gift of the King, who does what he’s told by the prime minister) and the dangers of bias that arose from that.
As I was surrounded by statisticians, I also said a few words about statistical literacy among journalists and the readers they serve.
The threats to the professional independence of journalists are many and nearly all come from without but the old newsroom saw “don’t let the facts get in the way of a good story” takes on a life of its own when it comes to numbers.
Especially if they make a good headline.
The great festival of British innumeracy that was Brexit did nothing to raise the reputation of the street of shame.
The famous Brexit bus stunt, claiming that the £350m [€400m] per week of Britain’s contribution to the EU would be saved for the NHS if the UK left was one of the more conspicuously bare-faced porkies that it was left to the UK Statistical Authority to call out, which it did, instantly.
To little effect.
A lie, as the saying goes, has circled the globe twice before the truth has got its boots on.
And so it proved. The figure, so compelling, so attractively awful, a headline writer’s dream-come-true hit home with the British public and despite, eventually, being trashed by every reputable news outlet in the land, was still believed to be gospel truth by 42 percent of the British population two years later.
In his 2020 best seller, How to Make The World Add Up, the economist and broadcaster Tim Harford advised anyone contemplating an amazing statistic to think about their feelings about it.
If it works you up, gets you agitated and excited, there’s a good chance that the person communicating that statistic has that intention. Beware the big scary number, ask yourself just why you’re being exposed to it.
Over a third of the UK population say they avoid anything to do with numbers or data if possible, and about the same number say that maths and numbers make them anxious while 93 percent of Americans say they feel “some level of maths anxiety”.
The picture in the EU is of similarly poor numeracy, so it should hardly surprise us that journalists lack confidence interrogating the numbers in a story.
Although research suggests their fear of numbers often exceeds their actual incompetence, it’s a fear that leads to avoidance.
But data is increasingly hard to avoid for journalists and all of us. Critical debates about the climate, inflation, gender politics and immigration hinge on being fearless with statistics.
Data journalism remains doggedly niche and although most news reporters and editors don’t need to be students of Excel, or regression analysis, they enter their professions under-trained in reporting financial and economic news.
Paxman’s statement about his lying bastards was not coined by him, as he’d be the first to say.
It was a long-forgotten, but highly successful Times veteran, Louis Heren, who said in 1960 "When a politician tells you something in confidence, always ask yourself 'Why is this lying bastard lying to me?'" and he meant it not as a jibe against the political class, but as a reminder not to allow himself to be manipulated.
He took it as read that all politicians lied, he was asking himself ‘why is this particular liar, lying to me particularly’ in their for-your-eyes only dangling of an apparent ‘exclusive’.
Just like Harford, he was asking himself how he felt about this priviledged information, the bait that politicians always lay for unsuspecting hacks.
Reporters who seize on sexy numbers (the bigger the better), knowing headline writers will thank them and readers will be agog, need Heren’s wisdom in their pockets.
There are lies, damned lies, and liars with statistics — news reporters and their readers take note.
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Jonathan Elliott is an author and journalist who hosts Eurostat's podcast "Stats in a Wrap".
Jonathan Elliott is an author and journalist who hosts Eurostat's podcast "Stats in a Wrap".