After the tsunami, slow news day syndrome

Now the waves have receded, the media are using the Fukushima nuclear plant to ramp up the fear fact

I remember 12 September 2001. I spent the day on a coach heading up to Liverpool for a football match, and all you could hear was the rustling of newspaper pages as people tried to parse the horrors of the terror attacks. For the first time in a while, I bought a newspaper; everybody did. At times like that, we turn to traditional media to help us explain the inexplicable.

We'd all been sitting, open-mouthed and incredulous, in front of the television the night before, attempting to process the images we were seeing. "It looked like something out of a film," came the refrain, time after time. It looked unreal because it was so shocking, but there it was, in front of our eyes. This wasn't entertainment: this was real horror, and it was hard to look away.

We've had a similar response to the awful events in Japan over the past few days. This was a disaster that, unlike previous natural phenomena causing huge losses of life, took place in daylight, in a developed country, with the news cameras rolling to capture everything and amateurs on the ground using high-quality cameraphones to record the unfolding tragedy. Never before has a disaster been caught on such a scale; the astonishing videos and incredible photographs still have the power to shock and dismay.

Even in this age of social media, where we may have encountered the story for the first time away from the mainstream, we have turned to newspapers and broadcasters to explain it all to us. "It looks like something out of a disaster movie," you hear time and again. But we know that it's not CGI; that those specks captured on film desperately running or driving from the tsunami are real people with real lives.

We turn to the media to help us when we find it hard to explain a story like the 11 September 2001 attacks, or the Japanese earthquake: when confronted with the evidence, the footage, the deaths on such a scale, we find it hard to deal with what we are seeing and hearing, and look to the village elders to explain. That's the strength of the old media, which have performed tremendously well in this crisis, but it's a weakness, too.

This excellent blog post at Xark helps explain why. Events like the Japanese tragedies, and other great losses of life, are thankfully rare. Extraordinary events elsewhere, such as the uprisings in the Middle East, are equally uncommon. It's not what the mainstream does during these times of crisis that is the problem – we all end up heading back to the BBC, or our favourite newspaper, to help us process what's going on – but what happens in between those times; what goes on during slow news days.

What it can lead to is a catastrophisation of the mundane in order to approximate a verisimilitude of those times when real disasters strike; to re-create that feeling of helplessness in the news consumer, that need to have things explained in the face of incomputable enormity. That's why you see health scares, cancer scares, weather scares, immigration scares and so on in the tabloids: it's an attempt to paint a picture of impending catastrophe, to tap in to your fear, to make you feel like you need these unfolding disasters explained.

With that in mind, it's worth noting that while broadcasters on the whole have been careful to portray the developing problems at the Fukushima nuclear plant – chilling though they are – in the context of more serious events, the tabloids have been a little bit keener to ramp up the fear factor. Slow news day syndrome is creeping back now that the waves have receded. A new disaster is needed, whether it's really there or not.

Patrolling the murkier waters of the mainstream media
Photo: Getty
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Seven things we learnt from the Battle for Number 10

Jeremy Corbyn emerged the better as he and Theresa May faced a live studio audience and Jeremy Paxman. 

1. Jeremy Corbyn is a natural performer

The Labour leader put in a bravura performance in both the audience Q&A and in his tussle with Jeremy Paxman. He is often uncomfortable at Prime Minister’s Questions but outside of the Commons chamber he has the confidence of a veteran of countless panels, televised discussions and hustings.

If, like me, you watched him at more hustings in the Labour leadership contests of 2015 and 2016 than you care to count, this performance wasn’t a surprise. Corbyn has been doing this for a long time and it showed.

2. And he’s improving all the time

Jeremy Corbyn isn’t quite perfect in this format, however. He has a temper and is prone to the odd flash of irritation that looks bad on television in particular. None of the four candidates he has faced for the Labour leadership – not Yvette Cooper, not Andy Burnham, not Liz Kendall and not Owen Smith – have managed to get under his skin, but when an interviewer has done so, the results have never been pretty for the Labour leader.

The big fear going into tonight for Corbyn was that his temper would get the better of him. But he remained serene in the fact of Paxman’s attempts to rile him until quite close to the end. By that point, Paxman’s frequent interruptions meant that the studio audience, at least, was firmly on Corbyn’s side.

3. Theresa May was wise to swerve the debates

On Jeremy Corbyn’s performance, this validated Theresa May’s decision not to face him directly. He was fluent and assured, she was nervous and warbly.  It was a misstep even to agree to this event. Anyone who decides their vote as far as TV performances tonight will opt for Jeremy Corbyn, there’s no doubt of that.

But if she does make it back to Downing Street it will, in part, be because in one of the few good moves of her campaign she chose to avoid debating Corbyn directly.

4.…but she found a way to survive

Theresa May’s social care U-Turn and her misfiring campaign mean that the voters don’t love her as they once did. But she found an alternate route through the audience Q&A, smothering the audience with grimly dull answers that mostly bored the dissent out of listeners.

5. Theresa May’s manifesto has damaged her. The only question is how badly

It’s undeniable now that Theresa May’s election campaign has been a failure, but we still don’t know the extent of the failure. It may be that she manages to win a big majority by running against Jeremy Corbyn. She will be powerful as far as votes in the House of Commons but she will never again be seen as the electoral asset she once was at Westminster.

It could be that she ends up with a small majority in which case she may not last very much longer at Downing Street. And it could be that Jeremy Corbyn ends up defeating her on 8 June.

That the audience openly laughed when she talked of costings in her manifesto felt like the creaking of a rope bridge over a perilous ravine. Her path may well hold until 8 June, but you wouldn’t want to be in her shoes yourself and no-one would bet on the Conservative Party risking a repeat of the trip in 2022, no matter what happens in two weeks’ time.

6. Jeremy Paxman had a patchy night but can still pack a punch

If Jeremy Paxman ever does produce a collected Greatest Hits, this performance is unlikely to make the boxset. He tried and failed to rouse Jeremy Corbyn into anger and succeeded only in making the audience side with the Labour leader. So committed was he to cutting across Theresa May that he interrupted her while making a mistake.

He did, however, do a better job of damaging Theresa May than he did Jeremy Corbyn.  But not much better.

7. Theresa May may have opposed Brexit, but now she needs it to save her

It’s not a good sign for the sitting Prime Minister that the audience laughed at many of her statements. She had only one reliable set of applause lines: her commitment to getting the best Brexit deal.

In a supreme irony, the woman who opposed a Leave vote now needs the election to be a referendum re-run if she is to secure the big majority she dreams of. 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.

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