The open society and its enemies

Thrill-a-minute hedonist that I am, I've spent the week reading Facts are Sacred, the Guardian's new book on data journalism, and The Signal and the Noise by clever clogs Nate Silver. The usual low standards of Guardian subbing are met, but ignoring that there's some interesting content. I note that the New Statesman, New Scientist and several marketing magazines have also devoted recent front covers to big data.

Nate Silver is impressive on the limitations of data; what he really advocates is an approach combining both quantitative and qualitative analysis, as well as a Bayesian method of improving one's probabilistic forecasts as the evidence changes. His advice — again, equally applicable to anyone in business, politics, communications or journalism — is to be consciously aware of your own biases if you want to overcome them and see the situation objectively. You hardly need me to add to the mountains of textbooks already written on how institutional groupthink and inertia have brought down many once-mighty companies. The challenge is to constantly apply this scepticism to your own positions.

At the risk of coming over all Blairite, there is also an open/closed distinction at work here, and the point applies as much to mindsets as datasets — and it cuts completely across traditional left/right or even liberal/conservative lines. As a recent Economist piece put it: "Our ideological sympathies are not good predictors at this point of how we feel about issues of digital privacy and electronic freedom. The fact that these issues don't have a clear ideological colouration yet is important because they are among the most crucial issues of the 21st century."

I would summarise this as the division between those whose instinct is to make information more widely available, and those whose instinct is that it should remain the preserve of responsible gatekeepers of knowledge — between:

• insiders and campaigners exposing malpractice, and those who find it more convenient not to confront such issues
• those of us who believe a free society must protect the right to get things wrong if we want to get anything right, and those who believe newspapers should only publish stories approved by committees of self-appointed guardians of truth and decency
• those of us who value freedoms over feelings, and those who think that their right not to be offended trumps everyone else's right to think, investigate, publish and leak without fear

We could list more examples, but the point is that this battle against banal illiberalism will define the era of big data and big brothers. Those of us working in communications are at the frontline, so we might as well get ourselves on the right side. If you're a journalist: understand how data can be used both to find and to illustrate stories, carefully craft and submit FOIs,¹ resist the lure of churnalism; if you're in PR or marketing, convince your bosses to make openness and clarity an integral part of your brand, develop a responsive social media presence that makes this a reality, and never let the cover-up eclipse the crime.

As YouGov's Peter Kellner says: "knowledge is not only preferable to ignorance in principle; it also makes for a healthier society in practice". Encouragingly, one of the 10 design principles on the new gov.uk site is: "Make things open: it makes things better." What we really need is for this message to filter up to ministers and senior civil servants, and down to middle managers.

The point isn't that we need to be anti-capitalist or anti-government in principle; just that, to make both of these essential parts of our society work better, we need to keep a close eye on them from inside and out. As citizens we have to hold public bodies and global companies to account every bit as ruthlessly as we hold producers to account when we choose whether or not to buy their goods and services. As employees we need to fight institutional cultures that prioritise the organisation above the consumer or the public.

Erring on the side of this openness is good for society; whether it's good for individuals is an entirely different question.

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1 I recently did this in my capacity as an elected member of Dowanhill, Hyndland and Kelvinside Community Council, and after waiting nearly a month was told by Glasgow City Council I'd need to pay a fee of £90 to get the answer I was looking for. But don't let that put you off. ;-)^↩

Hearts and minds

Victoria Macdonald at Channel 4 News had a good blog post on jargon in healthcare communications yesterday. She suggests that the political challenge of reorganising the NHS might be a lot simpler for managers and civil servants, if only they communicated with a suspicious public in something nearer plain English:

"Those speaking for change did not argue their case particularly well and at times seemed either exasperated or even patronising. I know they did not mean to come across that way but years of reporting the NHS has shown me that often those working in the health service do not know how to speak plain English and regularly fall back on jargon as well as making assumptions that people and patients know as much as they do about complicated statistical models of health care."

As well as helping to win arguments like these, taking clear communication more seriously could save lives. The approach of a senior manager at one of my employers — "if you can't convince them, confuse them" — seems, sadly, just as common in the healthcare sector as everywhere else.

The political scientist

After Margaret Thatcher died, this leaflet from her third (but first successful) parliamentary campaign did the rounds on Twitter:

As an editor, I can't help noticing that there are four pages of the stuff, not to mention the usual assortment of random and pointless capitalisations (some things don't change).

I doubt, by the end of her political career, she would have stood on a platform of 'BENEFITS UP' — but I think, policy aside, it tells us a lot about how political communication changed in the second half of the 20th century.  Fast forward to her leadership of the Conservative Party and her time as prime minister, and compare her first endearingly amateur leaflet with these very influential, clear and direct adverts.  First, the Saatchi campaign that got her elected:

Then the advert I most associate with her time in office, 'AIDS: Don't Die of Ignorance':

We don't tend to think of Thatcher as one of the great political communicators — admirers and detractors both point more to her unshakeable ideology and her force of personality as the secrets of her success — but we might remember how much of the professionalised media management Blair, Mandelson and Campbell perfected in the New Labour era began with her and her press secretary Bernard Ingham.  Perhaps, also, her dislike for nuance, subtlety and intellectual contortion allowed her to present simplified, easily understood messages in a way that has often eluded highbrow leftwing opponents.

The one epitaph being consistently applied by both friends and enemies is that 'you always knew what she stood for'.  In politics I'd prefer to live by Keynes' maxim, and my instincts would always favour consensus over a 51% strategy: but we can't deny the power that the Thatcher brand held for so many people for a remarkably long time.  The appeal of that uncomplicated approach, and the way her image personified her ideas, surely holds lessons for today's corporate and organisational communicators.  Like Supermac, and in a way her biggest rivals Tarzan and the Welsh Windbag never matched, the Iron Lady embraced an opponent's epithet and turned it greatly to her own advantage.

However, I think today marks the moment the brand overreached itself; achieved Thatcheration point.  A ceremonial funeral (a state funeral in all but name), complete with several hundred serving members of the armed forces, a cancellation of PMQs and a silencing of Big Ben, seems to me fitting only for a head of state, not a former head of government.  That conservatives fail to grasp the difference shows the hold she still has on their worldview.

I hope, then, I won't upset anyone by suggesting that now is the time to lay the brand to rest, not to immortalise it.

Health prevention of literature

A co-conspirator sent this image in from his place of work:

'It seems like no matter what nationality you are, the slide into stale painting-by-numbers corporate lingo is exactly the same,' he added. Very well put, which is more than we can say for whoever produced the unfortunate poster.

Still, as health advice goes, it's not as disturbing as this sign I saw in Singapore a couple of years ago:

I think that rivals the KEEP OUT: DANGER OF DEATH sign I saw on an electricity substation in Plockton for the least appropriate use of Comic Sans yet.

Tricolon cancer

It seems classical rhetoric has a place in modern communication strategy after all. Have a look at Cancer Research's use of omne trium perfectum in this new poster I saw on the underground this week: I think it works very nicely. They're also taking Owen Jones' advice and telling stories rather than quoting a bunch of boring facts and stuff.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A lot of charities have turned into political lobbying machines and so become distrusted by a jaded public; the more organisations like Cancer Research can show that they stick to their basic purpose, the more they can convince us to fund them. I think campaigns like this will certainly help.

Careless communication costs lives

When I first started this blog, I mentioned that I sometimes notice examples of poor communication that aren't just annoying but actively dangerous. Here's an interesting example: a relative of mine was recently given a course of radiotherapy, and was given the timetable I've inserted below.

The last appointment, for some reason, is in black text on a dark purple background that could be quite hard to read and perhaps mistaken for a border and so missed altogether. My relative pointed this out to the nurse, who mentioned that several other people had indeed missed their final radiotherapy sessions (and so, presumably, received an incomplete or delayed dose) as a result of it.

I think we can forgive the initial mistake, but not the failure to fix it once its consequences became clear. The fact that the nurse did nothing to make it more readable makes this report all the more believable. It seems the NHS has some serious problems with communication; unlike with HMRC and other public bodies, the risks are not just to people's time and patience but to their health and lives.

'Poor communication' is very often a political euphemism for a controversial policy poorly implemented, as the NHS recently found with the Liverpool Care Pathway. Here, the ideal scenario would be a sensitive two-way consultation on a complex set of difficult decisions. If this consultation was an intrinsic part of the policy, then the policy failed, even if everything else about the policy was designed and implemented correctly.

Reading those stories, I was reminded of Charles Clarke's claim after the last general election that Labour lost because they'd failed to communicate their message well enough. It apparently hadn't occurred to him that — with the millions spent on press officers, special advisers and widespread advertising — the message had been communicated perfectly well, and that perhaps the real problem was a set of unappealing policies dreamt up by unappealing politicians. (Before I'm accused of any bias, it's worth pointing out that all other parties also lost the last general election, and no doubt for similar reasons but while deploying similar excuses.)

In the case of the LCP, relatives felt the NHS Trusts had failed to consult them properly; in my relative's case, the NHS was similarly inconsiderate in its communications with patients. In each case we can see the potential for slapdash communication — nothing more than the classic failure to fully consider the needs of the person at the receiving end — to cause serious suffering at crucial moments.

I once joked to a paediatrician friend that "if you make a mistake at work children die, but if I make a mistake at work the comma's in the wrong place". I must admit that I hadn't really considered the possibility of children dying because of doctors' inability to put the comma in the right place.