https://twitter.com/RalfLittle/status/924636074231717888
Propaganda is so effective. If I’m to say – and I’m making these numbers up – 0.003% of the NHS budget goes on so-called health tourism and, actually, that’s far less than, say, parliament’s spend on ice cream. That’s less compelling an emotional story than ‘look at these people who have ten kids, and live off benefits from the state – it’s our money paying for that’.
In any big system, there are built-in margins of error. You’re not looking at the eight million people who would otherwise be struggling without benefits – you’re just picking a scary story. It’s much easier to scare people than it is to inform. The reason I was able to criticise Jeremy Hunt with facts is because he gave me the perfect opportunity.
None of this was deliberate or thought out. I didn’t feel a responsibility to use my platform this way. It’s just me being me – it’s an extension of what I’m like to talk to in the pub. I’m hard work, basically.
Truth be told, it makes me pretty miserable sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if I should just delete my account, and there have been times where I look back at things I’ve tweeted in the past and realise I don’t stand by them now. I think I’ve surely got a responsibility to say something given everything that’s going on in the world: the rise of proto-fascism, and the awful things people say, for example, about the homeless. I’ve got a responsibility to humanity. There are 180,000 people now who might read something I have to say and decide I have a good point.
Immediately the moment after I think that, I wonder: who the hell do I think I am? There’s a certain self-importance that comes with thinking you have something valuable to say. I have this internal conflict about it – I’m basically the Schrödinger’s cat of Twitter.
The opposite of ‘scientist’ isn’t ‘bell-end’
When push comes to shove, I’m probably just screaming into the void as much as anyone else is. Five years ago, I would’ve said different. I certainly don’t ever feel like I have the right to teach anyone anything. That said, sometimes – just sometimes – I’ll have an exchange with someone on Twitter that absolutely makes my week. They might just say that they hadn’t thought of something a certain way and thank me for taking the time to discuss it.
There is an astonishing sense of false balance that means people in power aren’t being held to account like they should. It’s not balance when you’ve got someone on to talk about climate science and then have someone else who comes on to say that climate science isn’t real because there are fairies at the bottom of the garden. The opposite of ‘scientist’ isn’t ‘bell-end’.
What concerns me is the public’s growing lack of ability to discern what constitutes a journalist. It’s opaque, and people aren’t reporting the full truth about Brexit because of some idea that there must always be someone to play devil’s advocate. If the chief economist says something’s going to be a disaster, that’s the news. You don’t need to find someone to refute it in contrived pursuit of balance. Journalistic critique is somewhat failing, but I think what’s worse is trying to be a journalist in a world where anyone with more than 10,000 followers qualifies as one.
Ralf Little is appearing in God of Carnage at Theatre Royal Bath 29 August – 15 September
Follow @RalfLittle on Twitter
Image: Matthew Chattle/Shutterstock
