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Fish food and fascism: what two viral stories in one morning tell us about fake news

While the left and the right have vastly different beliefs, we share the same cognitive biases that can lead to the spread of false news. 

Depending on your political persuasion, one of two news stories will have caught your attention this morning. If you identify as liberal, or are in some way opposed to Donald Trump, you might have been outraged and amused that the 45th president committed an unceremonious faux pas by dumping a box of fish food into a precious koi pond during his trip to Japan. If you are on the far-right, you will have been appalled to discover that the perpetrator of yesterday’s Sutherland Springs shooting carried a flag linking him to the Antifa (anti-fascist) movement, and stated “this is a communist revolution” before murdering 26 people.

If it weren’t for one thing, these stories would have nothing in common. The severity and significance of each is vastly different, but they share one important trait. Neither is true. At the time of writing, the police haven’t commented on the Sutherland Springs shooter’s motive, and no mainstream news organisation has linked him to Antifa. As for Donald Trump, he only dumped his fish food after the Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe did it first, a fact that was omitted from CNN’s edit of the video. 

Arguably, both of these stories spread an agenda – and both used social media to spread it. Although the motivations behind the stories are vastly and crucially different (the far-right’s lies capitalised on mass murder to sow political discord, while the left’s lies merely sought to embarrass President Trump), the way in which they both spread so far and so quickly reveals a lot about the present “fake news” phenomenon. The left and right’s politics might be vastly different, but their cognitive biases are essentially the same.

“Fake news stories have to appeal to people. Just like tabloids and celebrity gossip, successful fake news stories often latch on to something that many people want to hear,” explains Gordon Pennycook, a researcher at Yale University who recently co-authored a paper on the type of people who fall for fake news. Yet although the writer of fake news might be politically motivated, Pennycook points out the reader might not. “The people who fall for political fake news are not necessarily the most partisan. Our research indicates that an overreliance on intuition and a lack of reflective or critical thinking plays an important role in people’s ability to discern fake and real news,” he says.

Troublingly for both left and right, it was high-profile figures who spread both of these fake news stories on Twitter this morning. Members of the far-right’s self-proclaimed new media, such as Mike Cernovich and Paul Joseph Watson, were quick to post rumours about the shooter, while traditional journalists such as Yashar Ali (of New York Magazine), as well as CNN's Twitter account, were among the first to spread out of context images of Trump feeding the fish. It should be noted that Ali deleted his initial tweet and issued an apology when he realised his mistake.

Ali’s apology again highlights the difference between the perpetrators of these fake stories, and it is important to distinguish honest mistakes from deliberate disinformation. The spread of the Antifa rumour was clearly more dangerous than the spread of Trump’s fish feeding habits. Yet once again, regardless of motive, these stories spread in similar ways. In both instances, a handful of verified accounts allowed each story to gain prominence on the social network Twitter. The wide-reaching consequences of this were demonstrated this morning when Google’s “Popular on Twitter” function surfaced fake stories to people googling the Sutherland Springs shooter’s name.

“It’s important to note that our perceptions of fake news accuracy are influenced by the mere exposure to these headlines,” explains Pennycook, who carried out a study in April that demonstrated the repeat exposure to a piece of fake news – even when it is labelled as fake – means a person is more likely to believe it (this is called the illusory-truth effect). “This occurs because humans use familiarity as a way to judge accuracy.” It is easy to see how this bias worked today on Twitter, where filter bubbles meant people saw the same stories in their feeds again and again.

Ali’s correction also highlighted another known phenomenon around fake news: lies spread faster than the truth. Although the journalist took pains to delete his initial viral tweet, his apology tweet hasn’t received as many retweets on the site. This might be rectified by the fact that Twitter itself has created a “Moment” (a curated collection of stories that are popular on Twitter) clarifying the Trump non-incident, after other journalists (such as Buzzfeed’s political editor Jim Waterson) called out the story as fake.

This is the other crucial difference between today’s fake news stories. While both fake stories exploited real news events for political or personal gain, there is more apparent self-policing on the left. Still, it is once again important to distinguish those who genuinely fall for, versus those who create, fake news. In general it is important to not assume either left or right has intellectual superiority when it comes to falling for fake news. As Kim LaCapria, a political writer at the internet’s oldest fact-checking website, Snopes, told me after the inauguration of Donald Trump: “There has always been a sincerely held yet erroneous belief misinformation is more red than blue in America, and that has never been true.”

Both sides can now use each instance of fake news to create more news. The notorious far-right site Breitbart has already run a story decrying CNN for misleadingly cropping the video of Trump feeding the fish. Right Wing Watch, a website “dedicated to monitoring and exposing the activities and rhetoric of right-wing activists and organizations in order to expose their extreme agenda” has run a story listing those on the far-right who spread misinformation about the shooter. Today, both the far-left and far-right can accuse the other of spreading fake news, ultimately bolstering their hatred of one another. 

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.

Photo: Getty
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Technology can change the world – provided we have a measure of democracy, too

You could say we need a technological revolution for the many, not the few. 

Over the last five decades, the American Consumer Technology Association’s annual jamboree has grown to become the world’s largest tech show: attracting over 190,000 visitors and 4000 companies, with 7,460 reporters filing 59,969 reports over the course of four days in Las Vegas. In the process, it has achieved an almost mythical status – from unveiling the first-ever home VCR (Philips 1970) to Bill Gates’ resignation from Microsoft in 2006, and has included cameo appearances by the likes of Jay-Z and Barack Obama.

As a fully qualified geek (Electrical Engineering degree, 20 years in tech – before it was cool) and the shadow minister for Industrial Strategy Science and Innovation, I couldn’t resist seizing the opportunity to venture to Las Vegas while on a family holiday to the US’ west coast; hoping, against all hope, to see the progressive future of a technology-enabled, more equal world.

If only.

But I did emerge with a renewed conviction that technology can solve our problems – if we use it to do so.

In some ways, the most remarkable thing about the International Consumer Electronics Show (CES) was the way it demonstrated how technology has taken over our entire world. CES was a car show in the middle of a health show, which happened to be around the corner from a home show, which was adjacent to a sports show that was next to an entertainment show. Just about every sector was represented.

Nissan had a huge stand for their new autonomous vehicle showcasing the ‘Brain-Vehicle Interface’, as did Philips for their new sleep enhancing devices, and Huawei for their connected home. In 2018, technology can be used as an enabling platform to aid just about everything. And in a world where near enough everything is politicised, technology is very political.

But this was not evident from CES: not from the stands, neither the keynotes, nor the participants. There were few speakers from civic society nor governments, and those politicians who attended – such as Donald Trump’s Transportation Secretary, Elaine Chao – talked only of their ‘excitement’ at the sunlit uplands technology could guide us to. The show existed in its own, largely self-sufficient world. While Ford created an entire street to show off its autonomous cars, there was no reference to who would pay for the road, pavements, lamp-posts and guttering if only robots worked.

And as a politician rather than an engineer, it is the societal impact that matters most to me. One realisation brought about by my visit is that I have greatly under-estimated the consequences of driverless vehicles: communications, parking, urban layout, and public transport are all likely to be deeply impacted. The automobile industry is working to position cars as your personal moving office-cum-front room-cum-hotel-cum-lecture theatre; where you can work, maintain personal and social relationships, unwind and learn – all while going from A to B. How will crowded, under-funded public transport compete?

At the show, Nissan launched its Brain-to-Vehicle technology, which reads the driver’s brainwaves to determine when the car’s intelligence should intervene. Although I'm personally unsure about the inclusion of brain surveillance in the driving experience, it may well be the next logical step as we increasingly give up our data in return for ‘free’ services. Certainly the anthropologists at Nissan argued that this was the very definition of assisted artificial intelligence.

Fortunately, autonomous vehicles are not the only way to get around. Improvements in battery technology mean that – between electric scooters capable of folding away into airplane carry on, and electric bikes with the power of motorcycles – personal mobility has become a market in its own right.

Personal health and sport were also big themes at the event. Philips has brought back the night cap, which not only looks far more fetching than the Victorian original, but is now also capable of lulling you gently into a slumber before monitoring the quality of your sleep. Orcam’s discrete camera-glasses for the visually impaired can read text and recognise people, whilst L’Oréal’s UV Sense is a sensor small enough to be worn comfortably on your fingernail that detects ultraviolet exposure.

One aspect of the show that has remained largely unchanged is its demographics. Whilst the glossy adverts on the walls depict women and BME people using technology, those actually designing it were, with a few exceptions, male and largely white. As always, there were no queues for the women’s loos and while there were not any ‘F1 girls’, the gender balance was improved largely by attractive women, who were not engineers, being employed to ‘explain’ technological advances.

Weeks later, the World Economic Forum Annual Meeting in Davos was also dominated by technology, which the Prime Minister used as a fig leaf to cover the absence of vision for Brexit. Lacking in both the CES and Davos, was any sense that the interests of the many had any significant stake in what was going on. We need a Labour government to help change that.

Chi Onwurah is the Labour MP for Newcastle upon Tyne Central, and the shadow minister for industrial strategy.