Can You Trust The Media? — Cambridge Wordfest [Sunday, 30 March, 3.30pm]

Before I dis­ap­pear on hol­i­day (Corn­wall. Yes, I know the fore­casts. Miser­able. Thanks for ask­ing.), you are cor­di­ally invited to book to see Allison Pear­son and me chew the fat re: the issues behind the forth­com­ing book.

If you want to spend a day punt­ing on the Cam and then spoil it by hear­ing me equi­voc­ate then the details are here:

Date: Sunday, 30 March 2008
Time: 3.30pm
Place: Cripps Court,
Mag­dalene Col­lege,
Cam­bridge CB3 0AG

You can book by phone on +44 (0)1223 300085 (I know you’re not really going to come from over­seas) or online.

It’s £6. I know. You’ll be very welcome.

In the mean­time, blog­ging is sus­pen­ded — have a good break.

Can consultants save national newspapers?

The Ernst & Young report on UK national news­pa­pers is avail­able here if you really want to read it. It is worth a look, BUT (…that’s a big but btw) it has the most irrit­at­ing consultant-style stuff in it.

I know journ­al­ists are often accused of twist­ing quotes, but their liber­ties pale in com­par­ison to con­sult­ants’ abil­ity to man­u­fac­ture metrics.

Take this example on CD/DVD add-ons:

43% — Ernst & Young employ­ees respond­ing to a recent internal sur­vey who would be pre­pared to pay for a cov­er­mount (Base: 100). In most cases the premium would have to be within £1.

Yup, the con­sult­ant writ­ing the report has emailed co-workers to gen­er­ate some graph porn. Sheesh.

They may not be able to con­struct a viable rev­enue model, but they cer­tainly know how to make up numbers.

Is this the dirtiest political reporting trick ever?

There are prob­ably earlier examples of the non-denial denial in polit­ical cam­paign­ing, but this is my per­sonal favour­ite. It’s from the dirty tricks hand­book of one­time Phil­adelphia Inquirer owner, journ­al­ism edu­ca­tion phil­an­throp­ist, and gen­eral bad egg, Wal­ter Annen­berg:

One day in 1966 a Demo­crat named Milton Shapp held a press con­fer­ence while run­ning for gov­ernor and Annenberg’s hand-picked polit­ical reporter asked him only one ques­tion. The ques­tion was, “Mr. Shapp, have you ever been admit­ted to a men­tal institution?”

Why no,” Shapp respon­ded, and went away scratch­ing his head about this odd question.

The next morn­ing he didn’t need to scratch his head any more. A five-column front page Inquirer head­line read, “Shapp Denies Men­tal Insti­tu­tion Stay.” I’m not mak­ing this up.

Poet Philip Lar­kin wrote that what will sur­vive of us is love.

His dirty tricks are in the grave. What will sur­vive of Annen­berg is his money.

When can you use off the record quotes?

My two penn’orth on Sam­antha Power from the Guard­ian:

For me as a broad­cast journ­al­ist, the cam­era and the micro­phone are the record. You can’t unsay things to a record­ing device or speak­ing live, only apo­lo­gise or cringe. But in con­ver­sa­tion, dif­fer­ent stand­ards apply.

I was at ITN in the early 1990s when John Major referred to his col­leagues as “bas­tards” in a TV inter­view with ITN’s polit­ical editor. The Beeb’s Nick Jones over­heard the remarks. BBC bosses shared ITN’s view that these post-match mut­ter­ings were off the record so Jones leaked his notes to the Observer, which broke the story.

I think the tech­no­logy has changed all the rules. ITN/BBC were oper­at­ing within their con­ven­tions, the Observer within theirs, but now politi­cians would be cagier — broad­casters can blog those off-mike moments.

In Power’s case, utter­ing “off the record” imme­di­ately after you’ve said some­thing bet­ter left unsaid is no protection.