Experts? What Do They Know?

The soundtrack of Sunday afternoons when I was a child was provided by neighbours tinkering with their cars, although I was never sure how much good they were doing to their vehicles as most of the tinkering seemed to comprise of opening the bonnet and whacking bits of the engine with a hammer.

In those long-ago days of the 1960s, it was possible for most car owners to perform running repairs and maintenance. It was both possible and necessary because cars were far less reliable then. The motorist of the 1960s didn’t need to be an expert at car maintenance, but a little basic knowledge was invaluable.

Modern cars are so complex that anything over and above the most basic maintenance is beyond ordinary people. A few years ago, I managed to replace a headlamp bulb in a Vauxhall Astra, but I couldn’t do the same with my current car, a Nissan Note. When a brake light bulb needed replacing a couple of years back, a mechanic at Halfords needed half an hour and some tools that I don’t own to do so.

As well as not being competent enough to indulge in most aspects of vehicle maintenance, or plumbing, or a whole plethora of other manual tasks, I also have what I suspect is a peculiarly British trait of being embarrassed and awkward when dealing with car mechanics and plumbers.

Research has shown that two in five British people (probably all men) change the way they speak when engaging with tradesmen. Generally, men become more ‘blokey’ and start using colloquialisms and jargon they don’t normally use. Despite the handicap of not knowing one end of a carburettor from another, nor knowing the purpose of the manifold or pressure relief valve in our central heating system, we nod knowingly as the mechanic or plumber describes the problem with one or all of these things, and take as gospel his assurance that we need a new one, and while we’re at it we might as well replace at least one pump (both cars and central heating systems seem to have an inordinate number of pumps).

We do this because although we rely on these men and women to do the things we cannot, we like to maintain the fiction that we could probably do the job ourselves if we chose to. We prefer not to admit our ignorance of motor car engines or central heating boilers, although in recent years I have become increasingly less bothered and now willingly confess that I have no idea what my car mechanic or plumber is talking about. I’m neither revelling in my ignorance, nor ashamed of it, after all, I doubt that my plumber could explain to me how a Nostro account works, nor the difference between a SWIFT MT199 and an MT999.

But the funny thing about experts is that while there are some who are held in high esteem, there are some who are not.

When it comes to practical things, like plumbing or car maintenance, most of us are happy to accept that there are people who will know much, much more than we do, and we trust them (up to a point, there’s always that nagging thought that our ignorance is getting us ripped off), but strangely, when we get to more complex matters such as climate change, or Brexit, or coronavirus, many people will listen to experts and then completely reject what they say, not from a position of greater knowledge, but actually from ignorance.

The Dunning-Kruger effect, in which people are unable to recognize their lack of ability, comes into play here, as what often happens is that because we do not understand something, we refute it. Our common sense tells us that what we are being told must be wrong because we cannot comprehend it.

As we have found in the last year, despite having numerous relevant qualifications, despite having worked in the field for many years, and despite still practicing medicine, the opinion of our Chief Medical Office, Chris Whitty, is often derided by radio talk show hosts, celebrities, or random people on social media, because they get it into their head that he is wrong, largely because what he is saying is beyond their understanding.

The derision thrown in the direction of experts stems either from the fact that, for many people - politicians for example - their opinions are inconvenient, and oppose their favoured direction of travel, or because, not being infallible, experts still get things wrong. An expert can get one hundred things right and that will never be mentioned, but get one thing wrong, and they are immediately deemed useless, and that mistake is wheeled out for ever and a day afterwards as justification for not trusting what they say.

It is easy to criticise the experts when one doesn’t have to take any responsibility. Pooh-poohing the ideas of social distancing, of wearing masks, and declaring that lockdowns don’t work is easy, after all you or I can say these things in the certain knowledge that we won’t be held accountable for those opinions if they turn out to be wrong.

Apart from coronavirus, Brexit, and climate change, there’s one area where most men think they are experts, where they believe that their opinion is worth as much as the people who make a living from it, and that is football.

Jose Mourinho (who was manager of Spurs when I started writing this blog, but had been sacked by the time I finished it), recently said of his critics, "I don't think anybody is going to discuss rocket science with the guys from NASA, but everyone around the world thinks they can discuss football with one of the most important managers in the game."

And it’s true, almost everyone who has watched football, regardless of the fact that the local park is the highest level they reached when playing the game, feels that their opinion is valid, and carries as much weight as that of people who have played the game, or been managers, at the highest level. As with those who disagree with the experts on subjects like coronavirus, these armchair experts are never going to have to put their money where their mouth is. Which means they can brag about the times when their view turned out to be right, but can conveniently forget about the more frequent occasions when they were wrong.

People will defer to a plumber or car mechanic and say, “You’re the expert,” but with epidemiologists, virologists, and football managers it’s more likely to be, “Experts? What do they know?”

How tolerant would those who question and criticise experts like Professor Chris Whitty be if they were mocked, challenged, or criticised by a complete stranger with no background in their field of endeavour? Not very, is my guess.

Weird, isn’t it, the arbitrary way we regard experts?

Can't Do Right For Doing Wrong

No matter how the BBC covered the death of Prince Philip last Friday, the corporation was always going to come in for a bashing. Journalist and former MP Chris Mullin was typical: He described the coverage as “North Korean-style” (he was by no means the only person using the hermit state as a comparison), and said that it would “alienate more licence payers at a time when it needs all the public support it can get.”

Had the BBC not cleared the schedules of its three principal TV channels (BBC One and BBC Two simulcasted programming covering the Duke’s life and his passing, while BBC Four went off-air), but instead devoted some air time to the news, before showing regular programmes, no doubt they would have been castigated for being ‘disrespectful,’ probably by Chris Mullin. Channel 4 were rebuked on social media for doing just that, but responded by saying that it had "a duty to offer an alternative to others."

Criticism of the BBC’s coverage reached such a level that they introduced a page to their website solely for logging complaints about it. Both the BBC and ITV (who don’t seem to have attracted the same level of criticism as the corporation, despite giving similar coverage), saw their audiences vote with their remote controls. ITV lost 60% of its normal Friday night audience, BBC Two lost 66%; BBC One actually lost just 6%.

One commentator remarked that the BBC’s blanket coverage was unfair on the older generation who relied on the BBC for their entertainment as they did not typically have access to cable channels or streaming services, a view that collapses under the weight of argument.

No one was compelled to watch, but 94% of BBC One’s normal audience (of all ages) carried on viewing. Second (and this is stereotyping, I admit), the typical audience for programmes about the royal family would normally comprise more of the older generation anyway. Finally, this argument might have been valid in 1971, when there were just three channels, but fifty years on, even the viewer limited to terrestrial TV has access to over 140 channels through Freeview.

Maybe the BBC (and ITV) did get it wrong, maybe they did go overboard, but comparisons with North Korea are laughable and in any case, watching TV is not compulsory. I would hazard a guess that many people who complained might not have watched the normal programming offered by the two principal broadcasters anyway.

The TV and radio coverage of Prince Philip’s death did not inconvenience me in any way, and there is only one time that I can recall being seriously upset because the TV schedules were affected. That was in August 1968, when five Warsaw Pact countries invaded Czechoslovakia and our national TV channels (and we had only three then) cleared the decks to cover the news. I was ten at the time, and was distraught as the already limited amount of air time devoted to children’s TV was wiped out. That this followed a strike by ITV technicians which lasted several weeks and resulted in several days of blank screens, and then weeks of nothing but repeats, did not help.

Prince Philip’s funeral is this coming Saturday; the last comparable royal occasion on a Saturday was on 6^th September 1997, when Princess Diana’s funeral took place. The funeral of the Queen Mother in 2002, was in midweek and for the life of me I cannot recall any controversy over the media coverage of her death and interment, not compared with that of Prince Philip, anyway.

On the day of Princess Diana’s funeral most sporting events were suspended. Football, cricket, rugby, horse racing and motor racing were all postponed. In the case of Prince Philip’s funeral, most sport is having its start times rescheduled rather than being postponed.  Fixtures for grassroots football in England have only recommenced recently, so while on one hand another temporary hiatus would make little difference one way or another, a further postponement of fixtures would be frustrating for sportsmen who have only just had the opportunity to restart playing the game after five months.

On the day of Princess Diana’s funeral I was at work. Working on Saturdays was not normally part of my job with HSBC, but in the mid-1990s I was seconded to an IT team, and Saturday working became necessary sometimes. The sixth of September was picked as a User Simulation Day for the IT system that was being installed in the department I normally worked in well in advance of the death of the Princess of Wales. The day was to be used to familiarise the users with the system (not all had been exposed to it at that time), and as a stress test on the infrastructure.

When the date and time of Princess Diana’s funeral was announced, and found to clash with our simulation day, a lack of alternatives meant that we had no choice but to go ahead, despite the fact that a lot of people who we needed to be in wanted to watch the funeral on TV. To avoid the possibility of people not turning up, a few TVs were wheeled onto the floor and tuned into the broadcast to allow people to watch. At its peak, the broadcast was watched by 32.1 million people, although apart from the occasional glance at a screen as I walked past, I was not one of them.

Only the 1966 England v West Germany World Cup Final can top those viewing figures, although the 32.3 million people who are supposed to have watched it may not be comparable as audience measurement methods were different then. Since Princess Diana’s funeral, only the opening and closing ceremonies for the 2012 Olympic Games, along with Boris Johnson’s statement on COVID-19 in March 2020, come close.

I won’t be watching Prince Philip’s funeral, but then again, I rarely watch any royal occasions. The last one I can remember watching for more than a minute or two was the investiture of the Prince of Wales, in 1969 and only then because I think we had a day off school and I have a vague memory of watching it with my grandmother.

I don’t avoid watching royal occasions because I am in any way anti-royal, but simply because I don’t have strong feelings about the monarchy one way or another.

I’m sure that the programmes broadcast by BBC and ITV last Friday, along with the coverage of Saturday’s funeral, will be a comfort to many royal supporters, but for those who are opposed to the monarchy, or like me, are indifferent, a few hours of TV devoted to something we don’t want to watch is not worth getting exercised about.

Unlike me, millions of people do have strong feelings about the royal family - for and against - but whatever your views, the royal family has - like so many other thousands of families in the last year -lost someone who was much loved by them, so I find it hard to sympathise with people who are apparently upset enough to actually complain to the BBC because last Friday’s editions of EastEnders and MasterChef were rescheduled as a result.

 

 

Vaccine Passports: Reasonable or Not?

When a politician says that they, or their party, or the government they are part of, have no plans to do something, the one thing you can rely on is that you cannot rely on what they say.

In September 2020, when asked about certification to prove that people had been vaccinated against COVID-19, Michael Gove said, "I certainly am not planning to introduce any vaccine passports, and I don't know anyone else in government who is." More recently – in February 2021 – Vaccines Minister Nadhim Zahawi said that vaccine passports would be discriminatory, and that “we are not planning to have a passport in the UK.”

Opposed to them in September 2020, Michael Gove now believes that
the government must take the lead in the introduction of vaccine passports.

It was scarcely a surprise then, that ahead of Prime Minister Boris Johnson’s Downing Street briefing on Easter Monday (5^th April 2020), media speculation suggested that vaccine passports would indeed be introduced domestically. Even less of a surprise, therefore, that at that briefing, Johnson confirmed as much; a Covid-status certification system would be developed over the coming months, he said.

And the next day (6^th April), Nadim Zahawi’s opposition to a passport had evaporated to the extent that he said that, “exploring the idea of some form of COVID certification is the responsible thing to do as a government”.

As U-turns go, you could see this one coming from the moment that Michael Gove made his remarks on Sky News last year, and if not then, ever since the vaccination programme began. It has been a slow-burning idea whose time would eventually and inevitably come. And naturally, it does not come without controversy.

It is possible to argue that a vaccine passport or certificate is both necessary and reasonable, prudent and practical. It is equally possible to argue that such a thing is an abomination, and a gross infringement of our rights and civil liberties, another step towards the country becoming a police state. Equally, one could argue – with a foot in both camps – that the temporary introduction of such a passport is a proportionate response to the challenges of easing lockdown, albeit one that ought not to last any longer than is necessary and reasonable, that is to say, not indefinitely.

Your vaccine passport may look something like this.

Where do the great British public stand on the idea of vaccine passports? So far as I can tell from social media (not the most accurate barometer of public opinion, but as good a place to start as any), the only people expressing an opinion are those who are opposed to the idea.

It seems that many fear a dystopian future in which there will be random spot checks on members of the public’s vaccination status.

On the other hand, an opinion poll by Ipsos MORI of 8,300 people aged 16 and over, found the following percentages in favour of vaccine passports for certain activities:

·        78% - Foreign travel, visiting someone in a care home.

·        74% - Visiting someone in hospital.

·        68% - To go to a theatre or indoor concert.

·        63% - To visit a gym or leisure centre.

·        61% - To attend open-air concerts or sporting events.

·        58% - To use public transport.

One thing that leaps out about the likely uses of a domestic vaccine passport is the inconsistency of approach.

If this came to pass, I could travel from home to the other end of the country by train and bus, stopping for refreshment in pubs and restaurants, stay overnight in a hotel (all indoors), all without having to show a Covid passport, but upon entering a sports stadium (outdoors), I would need to.

Like so much of the response to coronavirus, the message is contradictory. When Matt Hancock appeared on ITV’s This Morning last week, he said that people “should minimise travel, but if you want to travel to see friends and family then that is absolutely fine - no matter where they are in England.” In other words, don’t travel, but travel as far as you like.

Even before Boris Johnson’s announcement on vaccine passports, individual venues were stating on social media that they would not require customers to produce such a document or display an app on their phones, and the UK Cinema Association reiterated their opposition to asking customers to prove their covid free status. Government plans to introduce a vaccine passport will not run smooth, it seems.

In much the way as we have become used to decanting our liquids into 100ml bottles, and removing our shoes and belts as we pass through airport security, the vaccination passport is as much about the Government being seen to do something as it is about actually achieving anything practical. It is possible that the Government might lose a vote on introducing a passport (if there is one, I’ve seen conflicting reports on whether one is necessary), or the court of public opinion may result in another volte-face, but opponents of the scheme will see it, along with any continuation of mask wearing, social distancing, and regular testing, as an aspect of increasing and continuing control of the people by the Government.

The control we are asked to believe that the Government is exerting in ever increasing ways intrigues me. Control usually has a purpose, it is normally a means to an end rather than an end in itself, but I have yet to hear of a coherent explanation of what this hypothetical control is supposed to achieve beyond control itself. Besides, the chaotic response to coronavirus the world over (with notable exceptions like Singapore and New Zealand, among a very small number of countries) suggests that national governments globally are not competent enough, nor their people pliant enough, for such control to be effective.

If a government really wanted to bring in controls on its people to the extent that the conspiracy theorists believe, why dress it up as a response to a pandemic, even one the conspiracists believe is manufactured for the purpose? Why not just do it?

I foresee a scandal brewing over the procurement of an app for a vaccine passport, though. More money will be spaffed on some Tory’s mate’s IT company for the privilege, although given that billions have been lobbed in Serco’s direction for the Track and Trace app, and there is – and was, even before covid – a perfectly usable NHS app, there’s no real reason why a passport couldn’t be bolted on to one of those with minimal development costs, and no need for new public money to pay for it.

On balance, I suppose that I am ambivalent about vaccine passports. If a smartphone app, or a physical certificate, is required to get me into events I want to attend, then I will have one; my desire to see a band or a sporting event will probably outweigh any concerns about the Government’s supposed desire to oppress me: I feel more oppressed by not being able to go to a gig or a football match than having to have an app to prove I’m healthy enough to do so.