In Fact

The current issue of The New Yorker houses a rather self-reflective article on fact-checking entitled “Checkpoints: Fact-checkers do it one tick at a time.” A must read for folks who balk at a misreported fact (no matter how trivial) and find that typos teeter a fine line between careless and offensive.

I happen to be doing a lot of fact-checking at the moment. And working for an online publisher has its perks – errors, spelling or otherwise, can be fixed in a flash. The error and all record of it disappears, and poof you can pretend it never even happened. What a godsend for all those perfect people out there who ‘never’ err.

From my personal experience with fact verification and double-checking, I’m beginning to wonder whether one can ever really be sure. It’s important that your verification come from a reputable source, naturally, and even better, from the corroboration of numerous reputable sources. The trouble is, it is very possible for many to believe the wrong thing (think mob mentality instead of the wisdom of crowds), and even reputable sources can disappoint. As per the aforementioned article: “An error is everlasting…once an error finds its way into print it ‘will live on and on in libraries carefully catalogued, scrupulously indexed…silicon-chipped, deceiving researcher after researcher down through the ages, all of whom will make new errors, so on and on into an exponential explosion of errata.'” It’s all very post-modern, really. What is real? Does reality exist?

And how many people actually care? The explosion of the internet, along with the blogosphere, has made information more accessible, sure, but it’s also made a lot of misinformation parading as information more accessible as well. When people read something unbelievable, they say, “Wow, I can’t believe that actually happened” not “Is this really true?” We place a hefty amount of trust in the media (though we are getting better at identifying political slant), and this especially holds true for print media. My father – who worked for Reuters for many years – bristles at the apparent fact that newspapers will publish anything these days without a thorough fact-check. And it’s true – there have been scandals. And if it’s happening at big outfits like the New York Times, you know it’s got to be rife everywhere else as well. Judging from the “Checkpoints” article, though, you’re still safe with The New Yorker.

Media aside, though, there’s always been a bit of a grey area between lie and exaggeration. Any seasoned cocktail party storyteller will tell you that embellishment is a key tool of the trade. Is fact all that important to us when it comes to an entertaining tale? When a film is ‘based on a true story,’ do we query to what extent? Do we want to know which parts are true and which are based? When it comes to comforting or advising, it seems that the option of honesty is always, unavoidably preceded by the modifier brutal.

Stable people seem to intuit the difference between an embellishment that’s merely that (and can be enjoyed or appreciated as such) and one that’s a lie. One too many outrageous stories (especially of those that put the speaker in the rosy spotlight and paints all other players as crazy/stupid/ignorant/insensitive) and your listeners are going to glaze over, drift to more credible, if somewhat less amusing, storytellers.

Not long ago, at a rather informal sorority almuni brunch (yes shock horror I was in a sorority at college), someone was recounting the honeymoon tale of an absent sorority sister and recent divorcee (I’ll call her Samantha). “Sam told me that on their honeymoon, her husband turned around and said, I think if I met you today, I would never marry you.” The requisite chorus of shocked gasps, omigods and sympathizing nods ensued, but instead of joining in, I ventured, “Is anyone here very friendly with Samantha?” A round of head-shakes. “So,” I continued, “do any of us actually believe that Samantha’s ex said that on their honeymoon?” A brief skip of silence made me wonder if the all-you-can-drink bloody marys had gotten the better of me. Had I been totally inappropriate? No, as it turns out. No one at my end of the table had any more faith in Samantha’s far-fetched stories than I did.

Most people are not sticklers for facts, don’t fine-tooth-comb or do it one tick at a time (like our friends at The New Yorker). In fact, it’s uber pomo (read: cool and cutting edge) to blur the line between fact and fiction, but there is a limit and a context to people’s willingness to play along. And whether you’re reporting inaccuracies intentionally or not, it’s pretty devastating to be branded as that person (or publication) who (that) can’t seem to get it together to know when it’s important to stick to (or triple-check) the facts.