As most reading this will know, recently on Question Time Jacob Rees Mogg attempted to defend British concentration camps in the Boer war. He did so by claiming that the death rate in the camps was comparable to Glasgow's at the time. This, of course, is entirely false, as shown by this excellent article here. But by the time this and similar articles were put out, the damage was already done. A much larger number of people will have seen Mogg's defense than the refutations; moreover, the audience he is targeting is precisely the one which will not read the latter. The desired effect is achieved, and Mogg will almost certainly be able to avoid all too much further scrutiny of that particular point.
Why did this work? The easy explanation would be to blame the other members of the panel. Couldn't they have called him out on this in real time? This would be almost impossible without taking a significant risk. In order to assert, without prior preparation, with confidence that Mogg's comments were false, you would not only have to be someone with a good working knowledge of the Boer war, you would also have to be someone who happened to know rather a lot of precise information about the demographics of Glasgow at the turn of the 20th Century. I am not sure how many people in the world fit this description. I would not be surprised if the answer was zero.
This is of course not the same as being able to sense right away that his comments are dubious. When I first saw the clip, my initial reaction was that the comparison sounded rather implausible. But I had to wait for a while to be able to confirm that it was definitively false. A participant in a televised discussion like Question Time would have to act on that hunch, and in doing so take a significant risk themselves. They might well be able to tell that something is not right about what is being asserted, but it is very difficult in that situation to know if the remark is false per se, or merely misleading (imagine, for example, that there was a particular outbreak of disease in Glasgow at that time). In this sense Mogg's claim was a factoid par excellence. It is almost impossible to falsify on the spot, as without some time researching, it is highly unlikely that you will be able to say exactly what is wrong with it.
This strategy is quite a common one in televised discussions. The strategy is to use a fact that, even if it were true, would be so obscure that nobody will be able to refute it in real time. Mogg has done this several times before. In March 2017, he claimed on the Daily Politics that a no deal Brexit was nothing to fear because of a little known paragraph in a WTO agreement allowed for a new party to maintain any existing trade relations for up to 10 years. Once again, this was, eventually, refuted, and you can read the refutation here. But once again, nobody could realistically have done this in real time. How, after all, can you be certain that there is no paragraph in any document in the history of the WTO which might contain something which loosely fits his description? You would either need to exhaustively search databases or find something directly in contradiction.
These incidents paint a disturbing picture. It is quite possible to achieve your desired aim in a televised discussion by bamboozling your opponent with statements designed to be for all intents and purposes irrefutable. This has become a standard strategy of the alt-right. The only defense against it requires a change in broadcast culture. It requires broadcasters to either refuse to have on air participants who repeatedly and maliciously use this kind of factoid, or, at the very least, they should face real and specific scrutiny every time they appear on air subsequently and be taken to town on previous false or misleading statements. The latter is probably not even enough, as it gives further publicity to these individuals. But even that would be an improvement on the status quo.
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