Columnists
Fake news: where’s the line?
I wrote a column a couple of years ago about a new winery opening up somewhere south of Hillier and north of Consecon that was to feature mud wrestling as one of its many planned entertainments. I ran into a number of people who told me they had been to look for the winery and couldn’t find it. So I have a confession to make. The story was false: I made it up.
While I am at it, I also confess that I made up an earlier column about the proposed establishment of the Rice Pudding Hall of Fame in Wellington. Come to think of it, there may have been one or two other columns in which I started out with a premise that seemed plausible and developed it into something that was completely implausible, atlhough the whole thing was made up.
Fake news is everywhere. My favourite CBC radio show is devoted to fake news. And fake news is sometimes laugh out loud funny.
I make my confession now so as to get out in front of the suggestion that I may be cut from the same cloth as the bored teenager in Veles, Macedonia, who created about a hundred fake news websites and made himself rich by getting people to click on the stories. I can’t say I blame people for doing so: who could resist a headline such as “Clinton Joined ISIS-led Cat Killing Cult.” Facebook has said it will do a better job of filtering out non-reputable news sources.
But surely, I tell myself, there is a line to be drawn that puts me (and the crew of This is That) on the ‘acceptable’ side in the fake news world, and our friend from Macedonia on the ‘unacceptable’ side. I’ve been scratching my head as to where that line is, and all I’ve come up with is an itchy scalp and a few vague thoughts.
Maybe I am in the clear because the consequences of believing my fake news story are so mild. After all, whether or not people believe a County winery offers mud wrestling isn’t going to change the course of history. But there could have been consequences. Readers might have been angry about having their time wasted and their gas tanks emptied in the fruitless search for the imaginary winery. Just how serious do the consequences have to be before fake news becomes a bad thing?
There does have to be some onus on the reader to extend his or her antennae. For example, last April 1 a newspaper in Bolton, England published an article about a new “left handed sandwich” being introduced especially for southpaws who struggle with their agility to hold lunch. I mean, come on!
Perhaps there are two other factors in play. One is context. If an article were to appear on the front page of The Times next week saying “Mayor Quaiff Abducted by UFO!!!” people might take it seriously—and be properly outraged when they discover it was a weak attempt at relief from the usual diet of council size, development charges and water bills stories. The other is familiarity. We expect the National Enquirer, because it’s been around for decades, to give us juicy headlines about aliens and celebrities, and would be mildly disappointed if it were truer and tamer. And one hopes regular readers of The Times know my column ventures down the fake news path from time to time, so that they know what they’re getting into, if they choose to read it.
But maybe the time has come to professionalize the occupation of humourist. Perhaps humorists should be licensed, just as funeral directors are now and home inspectors will be. An academy of Qualified Humour Specialists could ensure that only those licensed according to strict professional standards are entitled to publish humour. And if that sounds a little bit too Soviet, then at least it could mean something to have earned the QHS designation to put after your name. The rest would be up to the consumer: take in fake news from a non-QHS accredited source at your own risk.
Sounds a bit crazy, but it’s better than trying to outlaw fake news.
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