Some people also grow food to give to those in need.

This generally happens in December. It always makes me think of a day in November. In 2004, to be precise.

I was working as CBC Radio’s reporter in Nelson, and our assignment desk was expecting the annual report on child poverty in our province. So, I was asked to go talk to a family, with children, who were struggling.

An articulate and brave single working mom with a young son agreed to talk to me on the radio. She invited me into her apartment while she made dinner for the boy; I remember her stirring yoghurt into some organic macaroni and cheese to add a little more protein for him. She told me she got help from the food bank, at times, and healthy protein was hard to afford.

It’s not a dramatic story, but I think of them every time we talk about food banks. About one in three people who rely on food banks in B.C. is a child.

Food prices are on the rise too. That’s something we all sense in our grocery bills, but it’s really striking when you look at the numbers, especially for staples.

Here are changes in food prices, from Oct. 2010 to Oct. 2011:

• Potatoes – up 24%
• Carrots – up 20%
• Coffee – up 19&
• Flour – up 17%
• Eggs – up 13%

[Data from Statistics Canada, calculation by me.]

I did that story seven years ago and child poverty in B.C. is still on the rise, and the worst in Canada. We did the story again this past November. And next year?

I have to stress, a scientific background is not necessary — anyone can ask the same kinds of questions. But, for me, the muscles I exercised in science help. I imagine it would be similar for someone with a background in economics or the law, who can skip a couple of steps en route to finding interesting information in those fields.

Meltdown in the media

Still from an animated graphic showing 'exposed' fuel rods. (CBC)

I remember waking up to a news that the nuclear fuel rods were “exposed” and in danger of melting down. I was tasked that day with explaining to our audience, an ocean away, what that meant.

Step one: what does “exposed” mean? Many of the early reports were not explaining that bit, leaving the audience to wonder whether the nuclear fuel was exposed to the outside world—meaning the reactor was totally compromised. So what was happening?

The officials were slow to release information, the aerial shots were not clear, and I had no idea what the inside of a nuclear reactor looked like (despite growing up in nuclear towns).

So, I needed the help of people who know about nuclear reactors, would pick up their phone, and be willing to talk to me. Happily, I found two: one at UBC’s TRIUMF laboratory, and one a former neighbour (and nuclear engineer) at the Hanford nuclear facility in Washington State.

They explained that “exposed” meant the water that is supposed to be covering and cooling the rods inside the reactor was boiling off. Unless they could be cooled, the rods could create so much heat they’d melt the metal holding them apart, and fall, and keep getting hotter. A complete meltdown was possible, but considered unlikely. The impact of a meltdown would be mostly local; the fuel would literally be melting out of the reactor onto that site. Very different than an explosion.

The situation was not good. But it also wasn’t yet as dire as it had sounded. The rods were still inside the reactor, the reactor’s containment vessel was still in place, but possibly leaking. We created graphics to show our audience what was going on.

Here are videos with my stories from that week (March 14 | March 15). If you prefer text, here’s a good explainer from Richard Black, the BBC’s smart Environment Correspondent.

Numbers in context

Putting radiation levels in some kind of familiar context. (CBC)

These risks are unfamiliar, which tends to make them more scary. The challenge is to put them in context.

I compared the radiation exposure at the plant to things people are more familiar with. I dug up charts and checked them with experts, and found that the radiation had been very high, but fell to a level between a chest X-ray and CT scan. (Note, I mispronounced millisieverts.)

None of these “digging” examples are particularly sexy, or investigative exposés. In fact, as I learned more, the story became less sensational, but more true. And I think our audience has an appetite for that.

A behind-the-scenes look at the talk I'll take to class

Here’s a sneak peek at the Prezi I made for the talk.

It’s not that rare to be a reporter with a background in science; we have a few in our local newsroom. But it’s still uncommon enough that when people I encounter on the job learn I studied biology, they’re surprised.

Many ask whether it was my plan all along to learn about science, then report on it. (Not at all —I really thought I was going to be a biologist).

And, I often hear, “Oh that must really help you on scientific stories.” (Absolutely! But not in the way you might think.)

Bring on the data!

The fact is, the facts I learned don’t help me much. Even if I remembered every nephron and neuron I scribbled down in a final exam, my information is more than a decade out of date.

What’s important about what I learned is it gives me the faith that even complex things can be understood, and it’s my job to make sense of them, and use that information to critically evaluate what people tell me.

A three-spined stickleback. Image from Dolph Schluter's lab, where I once measured fish tails.

Being unafraid of numbers and spreadsheets is good too. I learned Excel spending many hours volunteering in a lab measuring millimetres of stickleback tails. Now on the job, I use a spreadsheet at least once a week to sort data and make calculations.

How do you know that?

The focus of my talk is evaluating sources of information. Scientists and journalists work in very different ways — it’s always fun to shock first-year students with the kind of deadlines I operate under — but we both have to think critically about the evidence a claim is based on.

I’ll be encouraging the students to ask: “How do you know that?” Should be fun.

Ready to go on air in Sparwood, B.C. (Dan Rodenbush)

Look at the title: “Is TV News Journalism Salvageable?” It presumes a thing broken, that may or may not be rescued from the alley before the garbage truck comes.

But, I went, because I find it a luxury to step back from the daily panic of doing, and talk about doing better. Maybe there would be talk instead of sanding and refinishing, or a fresh coat of paint.

One new path

Kai Nagata was headlining, with a critique of TV news, and why he quit his job when he felt more like part of the problem than the solution. He’s a very engaging speaker, but I bristled when he took some cheap shots, mocking CBC News and CTV’s Investigators (one of whom was in the audience) for having flashy graphics. As I said on Twitter, if you’re going to criticize TV news, don’t start by dogging new investment in enterprise and original storytelling (something CBC is also putting more local resources into).

Still, he made solid points analyzing one of his own previous stories, describing how he hadn’t the time or freedom in that job to do the journalism he wanted.

So, he’s now sleeping in a tent in his parent’s backyard, working on a solution—networking online and across the country to talk about new models of production and distribution. And let me be clear: I don’t take umbrage with that, or with anyone taking risks to tell stories they care about.

Is that it?

But the discussion that followed left me disappointed, because it turned so cynical, despite the smart people assembled on stage. [It would have helped if there was someone who currently works in TV news participating; the organizers had tried to find someone but were not able to.]

There was acknowledgement from a couple of panelists that there are some good people in TV “working their guts out” to tell important stories. But little talk about how to get more of that.

Instead, we heard blanket criticisms of the industry, repeated references to “cat up a tree” stories, and the crowd applauded the panelist who thought TV news should die. It felt more like a discussion called, “Is TV News something we can roll our eyes at and dismiss?”

Now, take this all with a grain of salt; I work in TV news. I’m not saying it’s perfect, nor am I in a position to critique or defend the industry or my employer. But at the very least, if you’re going to host a discussion called, “Is TV News Journalism Salvageable?” surely there’s a more interesting and intellectually challenging answer than “no.”

I have some ideas I’m working on, to loosen some of the logistical shackles on my own televised journalism. More on that later, I hope.

Maybe you have ideas too. What do you think would improve television news? Tell a reporter what you think would make it better. Genuine suggestions, not sneering please.

The second International Marine Conservation Congress starts in Victoria today. Scientists, policy makers, resource managers, and NGOs are here to share science on our changing oceans, and ideas on how to save them. It’s only been held once before, 2 years ago in Washington, D.C. What I find so interesting is the goal is not just moving the conversation forward by publishing papers in the scientific literature — but also by crafting recommendations that let science inform public policy.

I’m here to report for CBC Radio — you’ll hear me talking to Stephen Quinn, host of On the Coast, and Grant Lawrence, guest-hosting All Points West. I’ll be on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday at about 5:40 or so in the Vancouver area and 4:50-ish in the rest of B.C.

Changing oceans

It’s not easy to decide what to cover. The program is huge, covering invasive species, overfishing, aquaculture, planning, and many more issues. I’ll be looking for stories that mean something to a B.C. audience.

One piece will be on climate change and ocean acidification — there is a lot on it at this conference, and a topic I find really interesting. We know the pH of the ocean is changing as it absorbs excess CO2 we’re dumping into the atmosphere. It seems to already be causing problems for the shellfish industry in some coastal areas. But it’s not clear just how the complex systems of the sea will respond to these changes — or how this threat stacks up against others.

Still deciding on other topics. I’m excited—and a little bit daunted—to dive in.

* update: This may or may not be an internet myth based on a band name. I was just chatting with a journalist publishing a book on sharks, and she’d never heard it. Nevertheless, a lovely word.

Another kind of feed, from the animal kingdom (Photo by tomsowerby on flickr)

But here’s a path I wonder about sometimes, that Darren just reminded me of by mentioning “churnalism” — a derogatory term for practice of rewriting press releases and calling it news.

To be clear, I’m not saying I hope this is where we’re heading, I’m musing out loud about something I find partly ominous. I also see it as a possibility if certain existing traits of the current news environment thrive and outcompete others.

Follow your own news

What if mainstream media organizations gave up on covering anything that came written well in a press release? As in, if there’s enough in the release that “churnalism” could be practiced, it just isn’t.

The public would still get the information that’s available from the big institutional sources of news by signing up to those institution’s feeds. Instead of reporters tasked with checking whether there’s anything new from the Delta Police or Vancouver Coastal Health, the people who want to know what those bodies have to say pull the information in themselves. Aggregators would emerge (probably from the news media and elsewhere) to curate feeds for people who aren’t interested in doing that themselves.

This is something we already see, a bit. Celebrities talking directly to fans via social media to bypass critical coverage. PR people with more followers than the reporters they pitch.

What, role, then, would journalists play? One possible path (and my hope, in this thought-experiment) is that by curbing time spent on these easy tasks, newsrooms running at full-tilt would have more time to do the hard stuff, like finding more stories someone hasn’t already told, or more thorough information to tell them better.

It’s like that often-retold tale about the jar with sand and rocks, meant to remind us that if you fill your days with little things there’s no room for the big priorities. This would be a switch to more rocks, less sand. I’m happy to say I’m seeing some shift in this direction at CBC right now.

The other possibility is newsrooms would just keep shrinking, and more former reporters would go work for the feeds.

Okay, there’s one dodgy idea. I wonder what cool experiments might already be underway, when it comes to picking battles. Where do you think the news is going?

Who was being quoted on the health risk of BSE in Canadian beef in Canada's national newspapers, May 21-Aug. 13, 2003. Coverage continued for months but scientists stopped getting quoted. The y-axis is the proportion (%) of sources in each category quoted in each time period. (Johnson, 2004)

My thesis was on risk communication, using mad cow disease as a case study. I looked at a the language and sources used in news articles to discuss the safety of Canadian beef after Canada’s first mad cow was found in May 2003.

I remember that day vividly. It was my first summer at CBC, and I was interning at Quirks & Quarks in Toronto.

Then-prime minister Jean Chretien, in an AP photo from May 21, 2003, the day after the news broke. The original caption read: "Jean Chretien shows that Canadian beef is safe by eating it for lunch on Wednesday." (AP)

As the summer progressed, BSE remained a major national story, mostly because the U.S. had banned Canadian beef, leaving cattle producers without a major source of income. There was a huge SARS benefit concert in Toronto that summer, but I remember dubbing it “Beef-stock” because of the amount of Canadian beef promotion, including a city block-long aisle of BBQ. I wrote about it at the time:

Veteran comedians Dan Ackroyd and Catherine O’Hara weren’t even trying to be funny when they sat down between acts to eat Ontario and Alberta beef in front of the crowd of half a million spectators. ‘Mmmm, this is great Canadian beef,’ Ackroyd said between bites. ‘I just can’t decide which type of great Canadian beef I like better!’

Trust us, we have science

What does this all have to do with risk communication or my Masters work?

Well, I’d noticed that, as the story progressed, people were still talking about science and health risk, but they were no longer talking to scientists about it. Politicians, cattle producers, and yes, celebrities had taken the media stage to promote Canadian beef.

So I decided to look at whether that gut feeling had any backing to it, with a content analysis of the mad cow coverage in the two national newspapers, the Globe and Mail and National Post. I tracked a few things, including what each story was about, who was quoted making claims about health risk, and whether those claims had any caveat of uncertainty. (They should have, because a lot was unknown about the disease or how prevalent it was on Canadian farms).

The story shifted over time, understandably, from the question of risk to the general public (very low) to one of political and economic impact. But those politicians and industry groups were still making claims about science and health risk, with little mention of uncertainty. Here’s a representative quote from the then-minister of health, Anne McLellan:

“I think we have the science now to make a scientific case for the Americans to lift the importation ban.”

So what? Well, at the time I was trying to make a point about risk communication, and, of course, finish my degree.

Here’s what I get out of it now. There’s nothing wrong with politicians and lobby groups talking about science — let’s hope they’re using some evidence to make decisions.

But, science is a process, not an outcome. And it’s a process that gains credibility (and power) by laying out uncertainties and the evidence to support its conclusions. In this kind of rhetoric, speakers end up using the word “science” to borrow that credibility without earning it by doing either of those things.

A researcher implants an acoustic tag into a migrating Fraser River sockeye (Jennifer M. Burt/Science)

Q: When is the lead author of a paper published in Science not allowed to comment on the subject?

A: When she works for Canada’s federal government. In this case, Fisheries and Oceans Canada (DFO).

It is not a new phenomenon that Canada’s federal scientists are prevented from talking about their taxpayer-funded work. Margaret Munro, the science reporter for Postmedia News, wrote a news story last year that pushed this practice into the public eye, prompting coverage by other media outlets (including the CBC), and an opinion piece in the journal Nature calling for change. From Munro’s story:

The documents say the “new” rules went into force in March and reveal how they apply to not only to contentious issues including the oilsands, but benign subjects such as floods that occurred 13,000 years ago.

But, even if it’s not new, I still think its worth noting when it happens.

In this case, the scientist was the first author of study on Fraser River sockeye that provides a new piece to the puzzle of their declining numbers. (CBC story.) Researchers took tissue samples from migrating sockeye salmon, and tagged the fish to see which ones survived to spawn. They found a pattern.

The ones with a certain set of active genes were more likely to die before the spawning grounds. The researchers said it looked like the genes were responding to a viral infection — as in the fish that were dying had caught a virus out at sea.

The journal’s embargoed release sent to media around the world told reporters to contact DFO communications to reach the lead and corresponding author, Kristina Miller. But after days of trying, my colleague on the story was told yesterday that Miller “still [had] not received permission from Ottawa to speak to the press.”

Two of her co-authors from UBC, Scott Hinch and Tony Farrell, conducted interviews instead.

This study does touch on a few issues the federal government would flag as controversial. For example, if the fish did catch a virus, where did it come from? Biologist and activist Alexandra Morton suggests it might be from fish farms. Also, the study invites questions about climate change, pointing out that “seven of the last 10 summers have been the warmest on record for the Fraser River” and explaining that warmer water can make sick fish sicker.

What do you think? Would you like to hear from federal scientists about their work?

Taxonomic trees are an interesting way to think about the relationships between things. Here's a rough one to explain what I'm talking about.

I recently participated in a workshop for scientists about talking to the media, led by Nancy Baron, who has written a smart book on the subject.

It got me thinking about how mysterious the media can be for people who haven’t interacted with us much. One thing we don’t always make clear to people is just what kind of interview we’re asking for. Which can make a difference in how someone will prepare, and what they can expect to come of it.

The most obvious taxonomy of an interview is by media line: print, radio, TV. And that has merit. It can help you decide, for example, whether to put on a tie, or brush your hair. It will also determine whether an interview over the phone might be enough (print, radio) or likely won’t be (TV).

But, here’s another way of looking at it.

Conversation vs. quote

After the split between print and broadcast, I think the next most important difference is not between TV and radio, but between two types of broadcast interviews: the conversation vs. the quote. [Note, these are my labels, not standard industry labels. They're both called interviews, but I'm trying to make a distinction.]

The biggest difference for the interviewee is how quickly and clearly they need to make their point(s).

Conversation

In the conversation, where the interview airs as an interview (either live, live-to-tape, or edited down) people will hear more of what you have to say. A typical current-affairs interview one of CBC Radio’s local shows (e.g. The Early Edition) is 5 minutes. So, there is room for a (short) anecdote, and you could take a minute to make a point.

Quote

Compare that to an interview that will lead to quotes (or clips) in a broadcast news piece. A typical clip in a news story is 10-20 seconds, maybe shorter. This is generally with a reporter, rather than with a host of a show.

You can (and should) still explain a lot more to the reporter than the short, pithy, “here’s the bottom line” quotes. I’ll usually talk to someone for 10 minutes or more, and that information is not lost, it helps me decide what the story is (or isn’t). But in the end, I’ll still be looking for short quotes that make the person’s point clearly.

Interestingly, during this second “quoted” type of interview, even though you have to make your point succinctly, you may actually have more time get there. Five minutes on live radio fly by. But you could talk to a news reporter for longer, and come up with the perfect, smart, pithy quote at minute ten (something you never would have gotten to on air).

A few of other nuance differences…

• The advice some people get to address the person interviewing you by name (“Well, Lisa, you see, Lisa…”) should really not be followed if it’s an interview for quotes. This will render clips unusable. Even in a conversation interview, some hosts hate it because it doesn’t sound authentic.
• In an interview for quotes, it’s helpful when people answer in complete sentences, because the audience won’t hear the question.

  Q: Where did you do your field work?”

  A: “We did our field work on Haida Gwaii.” (Not just “Haida Gwaii.”)

  This advice can be dangerous, though, when it leaves people concentrating so hard on speaking in sentences they ploddingly repeat the phrasing of each question (e.g. “Where we did our field was on Haida Gwaii.”)

• In a pre-recorded interview, especially one for quotes, you’ll often be asked whether there’s anything else you want to say but we didn’t get to. I do this every time. But, it will never happen in a live interview.

All this to say, it’s useful to consider where the interview will end up. And either way, you need a clear idea of what you want to say.

What do you think it’s important to know before going into an interview?

[There is a big caveat to all of this. The new answer to "Where will this interview be used?" is "Everywhere." I pull audio from TV interviews for radio news, TV and radio scripts are used for CBC.ca's online pieces, print reporters carry small video cameras, some of our radio shows are videotaped, and some of our interviews that would before only have been clipped for news are now posted online in their entirety.]

A young killer whale found dead at Point No Point, near Victoria. (Stefan Beckmann/DFO)

Answer 1: Life’s tough, and more to the point, finite. So, animals die, even the charismatic ones that humans like. That’s Nature.

Answer 2: Some thing, or things, are happening in the ocean, and these are signs of that.

I don’t know what the answer is, but there have been a lot of stories lately about marine mammals washing up dead on B.C. beaches.

I’ve certainly reported on a few for CBC News. For example:

• The Department of Fisheries and Oceans told me yesterday they’re “concerned, but not panicking” about at least eight harbour porpoises that have washed up dead in recent days on southern Vancouver Island. Maybe they were hunted to exhaustion by transient killer whales, or the weaker ones died during breeding season, or something else. The provincial government’s Animal Health Centre in Abbotsford is conducting necropsies starting today. [Update: now, at least nine porpoises have washed up in five days.]
• A brand new killer whale calf just washed up near Victoria. Again, the cause of death is not known, and the Animal Health Centre is investigating. Here’s my story interviewing the veterinary pathologist on the case. Survival is low among newborn killer whales, so the death itself isn’t surprising, but some populations of them are so endangered this death was treated (a) as an urgent case and (b) as an opportunity to learn more about what’s going on.
• There have also been at least five grey whales washing up north and south of the border (CBC) (The Province). This is apparently not unusual; it happened at the time when grey whales pass here on the way from their breeding grounds in Baja to their feeding grounds in B.C./Alaska.

Does this all add up to anything? I don’t know. Just because they’re all marine mammals doesn’t mean it’s wise to list these cases together. Plus, the media has a habit of paying extra attention to something its already paid attention to (meaning the later strandings would get more coverage).

The good thing is: it appears that someone’s watching. When I interviewed Dr. Stephen Raverty, the veterinary pathologist on these cases, he noted that prior to 2000 most marine mammal strandings were not investigated. Now, he says 70-80% are, thanks to the efforts of DFO and NOAA. His lab now examines hundreds of marine mammal carcasses each year.

The hope is, if something is going on, these individual cases will yield some clues to protect the rest of the population.

Do you have any questions or thoughts about what’s going on?