Disinformation

[lproven]

From Another Place, but I thought it bore repeating.

The Washington Post has written about how people cannot accurately remember facts from fallacies when they are given information.

Persistence of Myths Could Alter Public Policy Approach

When University of Michigan social psychologist Norbert Schwarz had volunteers read the CDC flier, however, he found that within 30 minutes, older people misremembered 28 percent of the false statements as true. Three days later, they remembered 40 percent of the myths as factual.

But this is hardly news, tho' it's good to see some figures attached to it.

I just reread Terry Pratchett's Interesting Times, from 1995...

Cohen the Barbarian & the Silver Horde - 6 of his extremely elderly mates - have taken over the Agatean Empire by stealth. The noble families are uniting to conquer them.

Pardon the long quote, but I think I'd do Pterry a disservice by trying to summarise it...

'How big is your army, barbarian?'

'You would not believe how big,' said Cohen, which was probably true. 'We have overrun countries. We have wiped whole cities off the map. Where my army passes, nothing grows.'

'That's true, at least,' said Mr Saveloy.

'We have not heard of you!' said the warlord.

'Yeah,' said Cohen. 'That's how good we are.'

'There is one other thing about his army, actually,' said someone.

They all turned to Rincewind, who'd been almost as surprised as they were to hear his voice. But a train of thought had just reached the terminus...

'Yes?'

'You may have been wondering why you have only seen the... generals,' Rincewind went on, slowly, as if working it out as he went along. 'That is because, you see, the men themselves are... invisible. Er. Yes. Ghosts, in fact. Everyone knows this, don't they?'

Cohen gaped at him in astonishment.

'Blood-sucking ghosts, as a matter of fact,' said Rincewind. 'After all, everyone knows that's what you get beyond the Wall, don't they?'

Lord Hong sneered. But the warlords stared at Rincewind with the expressions of people who strongly suspected that the people beyond the Wall were flesh and blood but who also relied on millions of people not believing that this was so.

'Ridiculous! You are not invisible blood-sucking ghosts,' said one of them.

Cohen opened his mouth so that the diamond teeth glinted.

' 'S right,' he said. 'Fact is... we're the visible sort.'

'Hah! A pathetic attempt!' said Lord Hong. 'Ghosts or no ghosts, we will beat you!'

'Well, that went better than I expected,' Mr Saveloy remarked as the warlords strode out. 'Was that an attempt at a little bit of psychological warfare there, Mr Rincewind?'

[.....]

'Pork balls! Pork balls! Get them while they're . . .' There was a pause as the vendor mentally tried out ways of ending the sentence, and gave up. 'Pork balls! Onna stick! How about you, shogun, you look like -- Here, aren't you the—?'

'Shutupshutupshutup!'

Rincewind pulled D. M. H. Dibhala into the shadows by a tent.

The trader looked at the anguished face framed between a eunuch outfit and a big straw hat.

'It's the Wizard, isn't it? How are—?'

'You know how you seriously wanted to become very rich in international trade?' Rincewind said.

'Yes? Can we start?'

'Soon. Soon. But there's something you must do. You know this rumour about the army of invisible vampire ghosts that's heading this way?'

D. M. H. Dibhala's eyes swivelled nervously. But it was part of his stock in trade never to appear to be ignorant of anything except, perhaps, how to give correct change.

'Yes?' he said.

'The one about there being millions of them?' said Rincewind. 'And very hungry on account of not having eaten on the way? And made specially fierce by the Great Wizard?'

'Um . . . yes?'

'Well, it's not true.'

'It's not?'

'You don't believe me? After all, I ought to know.'

'Good point.'

'And we don't want people to panic, do we?'

'Very bad for Business, panic,' said D. M. H., nodding uncomfortably.

'So make sure you tell people there's no truth in this rumour, will you? Set their minds at rest.'

'Good idea. Er. These invisible vampire ghosts . . . Do they carry money of any sort?'

'No. Because they don't exist.'

'Ah, yes. I forgot.'

'And there are not 2,300,009 of them,' said Rincewind. He was rather proud of this little detail.

'Not 2,300,009 of them . . .' said D. M. H., a little glassy-eyed.

'Absolutely not. There are not 2,300,009 of them, no matter what anyone says. Nor has the Great Wizard made them twice as big as normal. Good man. Now I'd better be off—'

Rincewind hurried away.

The trader stood in thought for a while. It stole over him that he'd probably sold enough things for now, and he might as well go Home and spend a quiet night in a barrel in the root cellar with a sack over his head.

His route led him through quite a large part of the camp. He made sure that soldiers he met knew there was no truth in the rumour, even though this invariably meant that, first of all, he had to tell them what the rumour actually was.