Avoiding the news? Join the club!

And is anyone not "out of touch"?

In a survey of New Zealanders done by academics at Victoria and Otago Universities, 60 percent of participants said they “sometimes, often, or almost always avoid the news”. The survey question was: “Do you find yourself actively trying to avoid news these days?” (My italics.)

Participants who described themselves as very right-wing or very left-wing were more likely to say they avoid the news “almost always” than those with more moderate or centrist standpoints. If you have very strong opinions, then I suppose you’re less likely to see them confirmed or reinforced in mainstream media, and that must be upsetting for some.

People are sometimes so convinced by their own beliefs that they get mad when a reporter or op-ed writer doesn’t reinforce those convictions.

A principal reason given for news-avoidance was the negative effect on mood. People also said they find the news biased, untrustworthy and sensationalist.

If you avoid the news for those kinds of reasons, then you’re in good company. Often I feel that way too. The news sometimes raises my blood pressure, and there are things I just don’t want to look at. I’ve sometimes been a critic of sensationalist or biased reporting, or I’ve corrected factual errors. As an independent commentator who occasionally contributes some content to newsrooms, I should also admit to being a part of this mistrusted system.

Let’s spare a thought for journalists, though. In my experience, they’re decent hard-working people. They have to assimilate and report cogently on a range of topics – on tight deadlines. I notice, especially with the younger ones, that they sometimes approach stories with built-in assumptions, reflecting their experience and education – and their political allegiances. It’s not often though that I have to question their premises before commenting. In rare cases of gross bias, I’ve been known to refuse to help out. But I don’t usually follow up to see/hear what happens to pre-recorded interviews. A sound-bite doesn’t represent what I was trying to get across, so I “talk and forget” and hope for the best.

I was once approached to be part of a circle of concerned citizens who’d go around policing the media for political bias. I declined – during a tedious phone-call. And I’ll leave you guessing as to whether the proposed troll-farm was left-wing or right-wing.

Before getting too harsh on journalists, though, ask yourself this: “Under pressure, would I do any better?”

New Zealand has a small population and there’s global online competition for audiences. We do have some, but we’ve never had enough highly educated and well-resourced journalists who can look at events and people from different angles with intelligent, balanced and informative commentary. The present downsizing of media organisations won’t help. Political bias within the universities could contribute to one-sidedness, if it gets entrenched in the minds of graduates. Young people with right-wing opinions are less likely, I’d guess, to be attracted to journalism as a career in the first place.

There’s no perfectly balanced or impartial position, but that shouldn’t mean we abandon the effort. It’s evident, on the other hand, that some journalists – and many academics – see themselves as on a mission to sway their audiences one way or the other. If they make no secret of it, at least the audience can take that into account, and maybe change channels.

In media, we have many choices. Indeed, human beings have never had so much information, coming from so many different angles – not all of them concerned about high standards. We now have too much information, and too much nonsense to deal with.

Perhaps thinking they have an antidote to this, universities are making indoctrination classes compulsory. This is motivated partly by the drive to economise by managing larger herds in bigger paddocks, and partly by a desire to shape how future leaders will think. In an age when you can easily switch channels and AI will tell you more about any topic than the lecturer can, how well do you think this will work?

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And is anyone in touch with us voters?

In a 1News/Verian poll, 51 percent said prime minister Luxon is out of touch with voters, while 37 percent said he’s in touch with voters. Twelve percent didn’t know or preferred not to say.

The results correlated with party support: 88 percent of Green supporters say Luxon is out of touch; 71 percent of National supporters say he’s in touch. No surprises there. There’d be similar results if people were asked if they liked or trusted Luxon or approved of his government’s performance.

But the numbers shift depending on who’s power. In 2020 in an online survey with Stuff, we asked people if NZ political leaders are out of touch with the people. At that time, with Labour in office, only 8 percent of Labour supporters agreed that they’re out of touch, while in the recent 1News/Verian poll, 75 percent of Labour supporters said Luxon is out of touch.

Such judgements are subjective and partisan. But Luxon may come across to many people (especially on the left) as inauthentic, over-privileged and unaware of the effects of his words and actions. One may feel “talked down to”, and he lacks what’s sometimes called “the common touch”. Is he the kind of guy you’d feel comfortable meeting for coffee? (He doesn’t drink alcohol.) And anyway, it’s highly unlikely that he’ll be getting in touch with you anytime soon.

What does it really mean to be “in touch” or “out of touch” with the whole voting population? Just as no one would say they lack a sense of humour, not even a dictator would say that they’re out of touch with the people, and their underlings wouldn’t dare to disagree. Is this question about “being in touch” too woolly? Or is it a useful indicator of how people perceive a leader, especially in a country that calls itself a democracy?

It may be a valid polling question, probing into whether the leader responds to people’s values and needs, or comes across (on TV) as remote, elitist and unconcerned.

Our impressions of leaders are being shaped by editorial choices made in newsrooms, or by how effectively they “cut through”, as well as by their policies. It’s often commented that some leaders come across quite differently, often much better, in person. Every survey respondent could have their own criteria by which to judge the “in-touchness” of a person whom they only know through the media.

Moreover, “being in touch with the people” (whatever that means) has as much to do with the quality of information that the leader receives about people as it does with the judgements that audiences make about her/him.

Whether it’s the White House, 10 Downing St or the Beehive, a lot of effort goes into putting information (or spin) out to the public and managing relations with media, but how much is coming back from the public to inform leaders about where people are at and about what they need? And, even if decision-makers are well informed about public opinion, to what extent do they care about or act on it, beyond what’s needed to win enough votes or to secure their grip on power?

Even if most people think government should do a particular thing, it doesn’t necessarily follow that it’s right and must be done. Public opinion, as revealed by surveys, is often vague and contradictory, and not a very helpful guide to action. Pollsters often try to persuade us that their surveys are making a vital contribution to democracy – but they would say that, wouldn’t they!

Was it contributing anything to democracy to ask 1,000 people whether they think Mr Luxon is in touch with us, or not?

Again, no leader’s going to say out loud that they don’t care about you! Assuming they care, then, do politicians prefer to lead, or even manipulate, public opinion, or do they “read the room” and respond to public opinion? Ideally, there’d be a meaningful dialogue, both leading and following public opinion – while always aware that opinions differ and there’s no unalloyed “will of the people”. Given the nature of political power, however, it’d be hard not to get more and more “out of touch” (whatever that means) in the course of a political career, aside from spasmodic efforts as elections approach.

As always, political scientists have differing opinions. There’s debate about the question of responsiveness to public opinion(s) and about how those opinions are polled and understood. Opinion isn’t a thing that you can pick up, inspect and dissect. Most people know so little about public policy that a survey of opinion on an issue may not be very enlightening – although referendums on questions of deep moral and constitutional importance are often needed for legitimacy (Brexit notwithstanding!)

A Westminster-style system arguably creates the world’s biggest conflict of interests: the cabinet ministers who draft a budget are also members of the House that approves it, while their party whips ensure they always have a majority in the House. Imagine being able to write your own budget and then make the people pay for it – by force of law. Those who refuse to cough up get sent to prison. The main guardrail is the next election.

If it weren’t for the incentives that keep media organisations and polling companies in business, it could make sense for politicians not to pay much attention at all to public opinion (in between elections) while they concentrate on the job of governing. (Just don’t let them control the central bank!)

“He was so out of touch” could yet become the title of a theme-song for Christopher Luxon’s political career. Does anyone want to write the music?

AI-generated on gencraft