Please consider submitting your research to #TPRC49, the leading academic policy conference for communications, information, and internet policy. It will be held on Sept 24-25 in Wash, DC. At this time, it could be online, or a hybrid online/in person conference, depending on travel restrictions.
The organisers accept abstracts for papers, panels, and posters on critical policy issues. Selected papers presented at TPRC are in route to publication in top information policy journals along with a host of more disciplinary journals. A selected set of papers are presented to policy makers on the Hill, based on the theme selected for the year.
Let your students know that we offer a Student Paper Contest for a $1000 cash award and travel stipend.
Our event is a great place to advance papers for publication in top journals, gain visibility to policymakers, and network with policy scholars.
I am a member of the TPRC Board of Directors, which has maintained this conference year by year in a way that is independent of any specific academic association or journal. It evolved from a focus on telecommunications policy to become a much broader group of academics, policy makers, and practitioners with a serious interest in the discussion of communications, information, and Internet policy. It is hard to think of an area that is gaining more significance in today’s communication landscape.
A Mob, Protestors, or a Mob of Protestors at Capitol Hill?
In media coverage and interviews immediately following the 6 January 2021 protests on Capitol Hill in Washington DC, most media pundits, including the BBC, and politicians referred to the Trump supporters who surrounded or breached the building as a ‘mob’. The Guardian as a ‘pro-Trump mob’. That is a reasonably accurate choice of terminology in that the OED defines a mob as ‘a large disorderly crowd of people’, which clearly applies to this case.
However, in a strikingly analogous event, when protestors breached the Hong Kong Parliament in 2019, they were more consistently referred to as protestors, or pro-democracy protestors. For example, the BBC noted that: “Protesters have been removed from Hong Kong’s parliament after an hours-long siege.” The same coverage referred to those occupying the parliament as demonstrators. (I doubt this was true in the case of coverage in the Chinese media, but I have not confirmed this.)
Likewise, the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago, Illinois, saw a great deal of protest-related violence which also interrupted US democratic election processes. For example, one BBC account 50 years after the event referred to protestors, anti-war protestors, Vietnam War protestors, or demonstrators. In this case, as all of my contemporaries will remember from watching these protests, that the protestors were not characterized as a mob. I searched online for “mob” in the context of the Chicago convention and nearly all the results noted that the text was missing the word ‘mob’, referring instead to ‘protestors’ or ‘Vietnam War protestors.’
Clearly, there is a more or less intentional politics of language at play here, where a mob is far less legitimate than protestors. Maybe a mob is less purposeful, or more chaotic? Another OED accepted definition of mob is ‘the common people, the rabble’. Perhaps this is what is being implied about Trump protestors.
To be fair, if one wished to be fair, it might be better to avoid either term by referring to ‘a mob of protestors.’ That might fit all of these situations and be more acceptable to all of the actors involved. What term would you suggest?
I have not done a comprehensive or systematic comparison of all media coverage of these and other similar events. It is too tangential to my work. That said, it seems blindingly obvious that we all indirectly legitimize or de-legitimize people and political actions by our choice of terms. It might be better to describe a mob of protestors in more neutral terms and then describe what they did – their actions. It may be a cliché, but let their actions speak for themselves without being prejudiced by framing them in a glorified or tainted way through a politically charged label, unless that is exactly what you wish to do. The contemporary term of this communicative act might be virtue signaling – making sure readers or listeners know that you are on the morally correct side?
As I write, I fully realize I will be judged as morally incorrect by many for asking for more neutrality. I was on the ‘peace patrol’ during Vietnam War (the American War) protests at SUNY Buffalo, and that put me in a similar position – that time between protestors and the police, but a riskier position. In a way, I want to plea for a peace patrol now as well. As President-elect Joe Biden said, he wants to “be President for all Americans.”These protests have created a pretty angry place from which to move ahead on that mission.
The day after I posted this blog, the Financial Times (8 January 2021: 1) quoted several politicians and others using even more dramatic and more exaggerated characterizations of the mob of protesters, such as domestic terrorists. Joe Biden was quoted as saying: “Don’t dare call them protesters. They were a riotous mob, insurrectionists.” I understand that the President-elect and other politicians have been shocked and frightened if not panicked by what happened on the 6th, but there should be some – surely in academia – who can step back and look analytically and empirically at the complex interaction of multiple choices by multiple actors that led to this debacle. The presence of persons preaching insurrection does not make everyone present an insurrectionist.
Capitol Hill on 6 January was a disaster. There is a real need to dig into the details of this disaster to ensure that it is not over-simplified to fit political narratives. It was what I would call a ‘democratic disaster’ and like all disasters I’ve studied, they are the result of multiple problems. Rather than being resolved by one simple explanation, they are most often the result of multiple actors making multiple mistakes that interact in ways that lead to an unanticipated disaster.
I guess a problem is that politicians and the media are pressed to jump to conclusions too quickly. Not to do so risks being labelled as weak or indecisive or on the wrong side. We need individuals or teams that have the resources to dig into the specifics, however complex or simple, and avoid drawing ill-informed lessons that could undermine freedom of expression and assembly, including lawful protests, that are central to the dynamics of democratic politics.
William H. Dutton, Donald MacKenzie, Stuart Shapiro and Malcolm Peltu (1995), ‘Computer Power and Human Limits: Learning from IT and Telecommunications Disasters’. PICT Policy Research Paper No. 33 (Uxbridge: Programme on Information and Communication Technologies, Economic and Social Research Council. Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=3103433
Today’s newspaper was riddled with insults and accusations about who ‘liked’ or ‘shared’ various posts on Facebook. To paraphrase, one read ‘that a board member of x [any board or agency or organization] has “liked” or shared social media posts about y [any controversial topic] by z [any controversial figure].’ How could they?
Months ago, for example, I received an email from a neighbour saying she could not believe that I had “liked’ a post by one of my old colleagues. I replied that I found his post to be engaging and stimulating – worth reading, but I did not ‘agree’ with his views.
There are at least two problems with this kind of oversight.
First, to like a post on Facebook does not mean that you agree with it in whole or in part. It could mean that you noticed it, recommended it to others, disagree, or really, it could mean just about anything. For me, a ‘like’ is a general acknowledgement that you had read or have seen the post, as if saying thank you for posting. For example, liking a photo someone posts might simply be a way of saying hello to them. There is no unlike button. Anyone who assumes that a ‘like’ means you agree is simply wrong much if not most of the time.
A parallel example is when Americans or Europeans visit Japan, they often translate the common Japanese response of “Ah So” – short for ā sō desu ka – to mean the speaker agrees, or is saying “yes”. My Japanese friends tell me it essentially means that the speaker ‘understands’, as in ‘ah, I hear you’. Often, in fact, it implies ‘no’ – not ‘yes’, as it is so impolite to say no. [Correct me if I’m wrong.]
So, in a similar way, it is wrong to assume that a ‘like’ means agreement. If everyone understood this, there would be a lot fewer disputes in the newspapers and online. Many more emojis have been added to online media, but I would not count on the greater choice of emoji settling the issue. What does that wink mean?
The second problem is that I wish my friends, neighbours, or Facebook friends would not make assumptions about my beliefs or opinions based only on such a crude signal as whether I like or share a post. It is a type of social pressure or sanction that can have a chilling effect on me and perhaps on other speakers. If I start thinking that I will be judged by what I ‘like’ – not on what I actually say – then I will stop ‘liking’ anything. Better to say nothing than to be misunderstood. I don’t mind it if I am confronted, such as by my neighbour, as then I can explain myself, if I wish to, and thank them for asking. But one can only assume that too many people draw unwarranted conclusions without testing them with you. Did you mean that you agree with that post?
Given the directions of technical advances, in due course, you might know what I look at or read, even if I don’t react to the post. “You ordered that book?’ ‘You looked at that person’s profile?’ So this kind of problem could get far worse.
Let me apologise to you, if you’ve been critical of my – or anyone’s – ‘likes’. But as they say, apologizing does not mean that I am wrong, but that I value your friendship more than proving myself right. By the way, I have very few “friends” in real life, but many “Facebook friends” – they are not the same thing, so should we all try harder to be as aware of online conventions and the meaning of terms used online, just as we try to keep up with the nuances of speech in general?
The press has fostered growing recognition of the balance that politicians must strike between public health and the economy. This is important, but more attention needs to be focused on the balancing acts of individuals – the public at large. Each individual needs to juggle multiple pressures in making choices about staying at home, social distancing, and how to best comply with COVID-19 guidelines. A rational health communication model might suggest that actors need to focus more effort on gaining a consensus across governmental actors and experts and do a better job in communicating the recommendations in more engaging ways that the public will accept. But this assumes that a clear message can be agreed, sent, and well received. Moreover, what if there are rational reasons for the mixed messages and differences in reception?
It has become increasingly understood that many public officials pursue at least dual objectives – achieving the health objectives of protecting the public from the virus and the economic objectives of getting people back to work and the economy growing. Given that multiple actors are pursuing multiple objectives from different levels of expertise and positions in government, it would be difficult indeed to create a single message to communicate to the public. Given the permutations of actors, expertise, timing, and positions across the nations and regions of the UK, it is almost inevitable that many voices speak for governments of the UK with some major and many subtle differences in messaging. They are not always in sync with expert advice, which also varies across experts and overtime.
At the receiving end, many among the public may not listen or view governmental instructions or announcements or follow news and social media about them. Still others might follow these messages but not fully understand them – feeling confused. And even among those who receive and understand governmental advice, too many fail to comply or follow the recommendations of the experts.
It is possible to imagine everyone among the public is in the same boat – all wanting to avoid the COVID-19 virus and anxious to get the latest and best information from the government’s health experts. However, the public includes a diverse set of actors, whose behaviour is likely to be shaped and constrained by their:
Health: young, healthy individuals are likely to be less concerned about the virus than older people with underlying medical conditions;
Employment: highly paid information workers, who can work at home, are likely to be less worried about the economic consequences of the virus than those who work in personal services for low wages;
Finances: households financially able to ride out the pandemic versus those with few slack resources, including the homeless;
Household: a large family in a small household may find it more difficult to stay at home, or consider a family distributed across multiple households;
Social Networks: college students in fraternities or dormitories are likely to feel social pressure to socialize more than retired seniors living alone;
Geography: families living in the most densely populated areas, such as in high-rise apartments, and dependent on public transit, are likely to be less able to socially distance than are rural or suburban residents who can drive for work or to shop.
These are only a few of the many ways the audience is quite heterogeneous, but they illustrate why it may be difficult for one message to reach an audience who are all as deeply concerned about COVID-19 and equally able to act as a collective. Public communication strategy needs to incorporate the many motivations and constraints that lead to failures of access, understanding or compliance.
I am encouraged by some efforts to empirically understand the public in the time of COVID-19. In the UK, Ofcom has followed public viewing of different media and health messages. And a study of ‘communicating the pandemic‘ at Leeds, funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC), which I have offered some advice, is looking at how COVID-19 messages are received, how well they are understood, and to what degree individuals comply with government guidance. Studies like that at Leeds could help us move away from an overly simplistic, too homogeneous, overly rational model of the public to an understanding of how a heterogeneous public balances conflicting pressures on their lives as they seek to manage exposure to this virus. Such an understanding should help in communicating guidance effectively in the times of COVID-19 threats.
More information on the Leeds University AHRC study on ‘Communicating the Pandemic’ can be found here.
Across most academic fields, researchers are increasingly focused on outreach to relevant practitioner and policy communities. It can sharpen their sense of the key questions but also enable their research to have greater application and impact. In contrast, within the field of cybersecurity, policy and practitioners from governmental, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), like the World Bank, and business and industry are more dominant in the production of research. Academic researchers play a relatively less active role. That said, research on cybersecurity could be greatly enhanced if a larger and more multidisciplinary collection of academic researchers could be engaged to focus on issues of cybersecurity and build collaborative relationships with the policy and practitioner communities.
Why is this the case, and what could be done to correct it?
The Dynamics Limiting Academia’s Role in Cybersecurity
I am but one of a growing set of multidisciplinary researchers with a focus on cybersecurity. The field is clearly engaging some top researchers and scholars from a variety of fields, evidenced by colleagues and centers at prominent universities, a growing number of journals and publications, and a dizzying number of events and conferences on topics within the field. Stellar academics, such as Professor David Clark at MIT, Professor Sadie Creese at Oxford University, and Bruce Schneier, a Fellow at the Berkman Center at Harvard, are strong examples. I would add Gabriella Coleman, a chaired professor at McGill University, and Professor Patrick Burkart at Texas A&M, to the list, even though they might not identify themselves as cybersecurity researchers. Many others could be added.
Nevertheless, compared with other fields, cybersecurity research appears to be dominated more by the practitioner and policy communities. Cybersecurity is not a discipline but a multidisciplinary field of study. But it remains less multidisciplinary and more anchored within the computer sciences than some related fields, such as Internet studies as one comparator with which I am familiar. A number of possible explanations for the different multidisciplinary balance of this field come to mind.
First, it is a relatively new field of academic research. It was preceded by studies of computer security, which were more computer science centric as they were more focused on technical advances in security systems. The development of shared computing systems and the Internet in particular, has greatly expanded the range of users and devices linked to computer systems, reaching over 4 billion users in 2020. In many respects, the Internet drove the transition from computer security to cybersecurity research and is therefore understandably young in relation to other academic fields of study.
Secondly, the concept of cybersecurity carries some of the baggage of its early stages. While the characterisations evoked by concepts are often crude, the term often conjures up images of men in suits employed by large institutions trying to keep young boys out of their systems. My MSU colleague, Ruth Shillair, reminded me of the 1983 movie War Games. It is based around a young hacker getting into the backdoor of a major military computer system in ways that threatened to launch a world war, but which left the audience cheering for the young haker.
Today, big mainframe computers are less central than are the billions of devices in households and business and industry and governments across the world. Malicious users, rather than a child accidentally entering the backdoor of a military complex, are the norm. Yet cybersecurity carries some of this off-putting imagery from its early days into the present.
Thirdly, it is an incredibly important field of research for which there is great demand. Many rising academics in the field of cybersecurity are snapped up by business, industry and governmental headhunters for lucrative positions rather than by academia.
These are only a few of many reasons for the relative lack of a stronger multidisciplinary research community. Whatever initiatives might enhance its multidisciplinary make-up might also bring more academics as well as more academic disciplines into the study of cybersecurity. How could this be changed?
What Needs to Be Done?
First, academics involved with research on cybersecurity need to do more to network among themselves. This is somewhat of a chicken and egg problem as when there are relatively few academics in a field it seems less important to network with each other. However, until the field comes together to better define the field and its priorities for research, it is harder for it to flourish. Similarly, there are so many pulls to work with practitioners and the policy communities in this area that academic collaboration may seem like a distraction. It is not, as it is essential for the field to mature as an academic field of study.
Secondly, the field needs to identify and promote academic research on cybersecurity that address big questions with major implications for policy and practice. On this point, some of the research at Oxford’s Global Cyber Security Capacity Centre (GCSCC) has made a difference for nations across the world. For example, the research demonstrates that nations that have enhanced their cybersecurity capacity building efforts have made a serious improvement in the experiences of their nations’ Internet users. But this work is one of many examples of work that is meeting needs in this new area of technological and organizational advances.
Thirdly, national governments need to place a greater priority on building this field of academia along with building their own cybersecurity capacities. Arguably, in the long run, a stronger academic field in cybersecurity will help nations advance cybersecurity capacity, such as by creating a larger pool of expertise and thought leadership in this area.
This would be possible through a number of initiatives, from simply taking a leadership role in identifying the importance of the field to encouraging the public research councils and other funding bodies to consider the development of grant support for multidisciplinary research on cybersecurity.
For example, the UK’s Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC) generated early funding for what became the Programme on Information and Communication Technologies (PICT). The establishment of PICT helped to draw leading researchers, such as the late Roger Silverstone, into the study of the social aspects of information and communication technologies. Such pump-priming helped put the UK in an early strategic international position in research on the societal aspects of the Internet and related digital media.
What factors are constraining the more rapid and widespread development of this field? What could be done to accelerate and deepen its development?
There are a host of other issues around whether policy makers and practitioners would value collaboration with academics, given that their time scales and methodologies can be so dramatically different. That is for another blog, but in the interim, I’d value your thoughts on whether you agree on the need and approaches to further develop the multidisciplinary study of cybersecurity within academia.
 See: Creese, S., Shillair, R., Bada, M., Reisdorf, B.C., Roberts, T., and Dutton, W. H. (2019), ‘The Cybersecurity Capacity of Nations’, pp. 165-179 in Graham, M., and Dutton, W. H. (eds), Society and the Internet: How Networks of Information and Communication are Changing our Lives, 2nd Edition. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
 My thanks to Caroline Weisser Harris for suggesting a focus on this question of why practitioners and policy makers might or might not value collaboration with academia.
I recommend a 2015 – but still quite relevant – book on the international political situation in Ukraine by Menon and Rumer.* The authors provide a very accessible background on the history of Ukraine, and the evolution of contemporary relationships both within the country and internationally, with Russia, the US, and Germany, France, the UK and the EU. They help clarify a number of over-simplified views, such as any sharp East-West divide within the nation. They describe the recent crisis with Russia, in relation to Crimea and the Luhansk-Donetsk region in Eastern Ukraine, concluding that all of the supporters of Ukraine, such as the US and EU, see their own self-interest at stake in how this evolves, but not strongly enough to intervene or take a more active role, ‘leaving Ukraine to tackle its challenges largely on its own’ (p. 155). And that is where things stand today.
If you would like to better understand the political dynamics of this conflict in Ukraine, I recommend Menon and Rumer’s book. In hindsight, they were exactly right in their view of the prospects, and remain on target.
*Rajan Menon and Eugene Rumer, Conflict in Ukraine: The Unwinding of the Post-Cold War Order. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press.
The 2020 edition of the GII, co-published by WPO, INSEAD, and Cornell University, is dedicated to the theme of ‘Who Will Finance Innovation’? The 13th edition of the GII sheds light on the state of innovation financing by investigating the evolution of financing mechanisms for entrepreneurs and other innovators, and by pointing to progress and remaining challenges—including in the context of the economic slowdown induced by the COVID-19 pandemic. More information on the 2020 GII here.
I began graduate studies in the Department of Political Science at the University of Buffalo in 1969 when UB was called the State University of New York at Buffalo (SUNY-Buffalo). I had graduated from the University of Missouri at Columbia, where I was inspired by a comparative researcher, Professor David M. Wood, to pursue graduate study in political science. The COVID-19 pandemic and the turmoil it has caused reminded me of when I was at UB amid all the disruptions and student strikes on campus during the Vietnam (American) War. Dramatically different periods and problems, but somehow reminiscent.
My cohort arrived at the interim Ridge Lea Campus – a complex of single-story buildings in Amherst. At one point, I remember some were literally buried completely under heavy snow, causing the cancelling of some exams. While I never experienced the new Amherst campus, I had the benefit of fabulous faculty in the process of building a new department.
Professor Lester Milbrath, and his ladder of political participation and his turn to environmental research; philosopher of science Professor Paul Diesing with his focus on what scientists actually do; and urban politics Professor Donald Rosenthal, who introduced me to Banfield and Wilson and case studies of Chicago politics, have all passed away. However, they and other faculty, such as James Stimson, who left UB and is now the Raymond Dawson Distinguished Bicentennial Professor of Political Science Emeritus at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, were such models of intellect, rigor and integrity that they continue to represent the department for me. And Professor Rudolf Wildenmann, even as a Visiting Professor in the Department from the University of Mannheim, were critical to my work. I almost joined him at Mannheim in 1973.
Of course, I also continue to value my fellow students. Coming from the Midwest, my first days of graduate studies were intimidating, but students quickly formed a supportive community. I have fond memories of meeting other students, such as Debbie Dunkle and Steve Peterson, who’ve become lifelong friends. We would meet for coffee and breakfast almost every morning in the Ridge Lea cafeteria. One highlight of our conversations was the frequent occasion when any of the grad students received a rejection letter. They would read it out loud for the group to compare and critique. Whenever a student is worried about a job, I tell them about our stacks of rejections, which I continue to find amusing.
At UB, I focused on urban and comparative politics but also on methods and quantitative data analyses, toting boxes of punch cards around and spending so much time at the central computing center submitting jobs on the big mainframe. SPSS was only being launched while I was a graduate student. I recall colleagues distrusting such software packages as they were too far removed from our own programming. I am sure that my affinity for data analysis created the opportunities I had to work with faculty – so central to my training – but also was key to my move into the study of the political aspects of computing.
My focus today is on Internet studies, most often from a political perspective. The field did not exist when I was in graduate school. In fact, I worked only about one year in a department of political science in my first job at the University of South Florida. Nevertheless, the ideas, theories and methods that I was introduced to at UB have remained central aspects of my work to this day. At every stage of my career, I felt UB had prepared me as well as any of my colleagues for the challenges of research and teaching. I thank the department for whatever success I’ve enjoyed in my career.
William H. Dutton, Emeritus Professor, University of Southern California and Oxford University
Professor Claude Welch
One of the University of Buffalo’s (UB) most outstanding professors, Claude Welch, began his career at UB in 1964 – before my arrival when UB became SUNY-Buffalo – and only recently retired as SUNY Distinguished Service Professor. Professor Welch has been putting together a history of UB’s Department of Political Science and reaching out to former graduate students for their own memories of their days at UB. I never had a class with Claude, but regret missing that opportunity. He has chaired or been a member of an amazing number of dissertation committees, and is one of the few professors I know of who has had a video produced to recognise him as a gifted teacher, entitled ‘Calling it a Career‘.
My thanks to Claude Welch for putting together his history of the department and reaching out to former students like myself. It made me realise how seldom I stop to recognise those who tried to teach me what political scientists do. But I’ve always appreciated their contributions to my education.
Way too much talk, research, and handwringing are all about how to stop people from seeing or believing disinformation, such as the latest conspiracy theories. But pushing governments and platforms or anyone to censor information is not only ineffective in the digital age, but also likely to be dysfunctional – such as in activating the proverbial Barbara Streisand effect. You will only generate more interest in the information you want to censor. Moreover, you will not communicate the facts, narrative, or truth, as you see it.
Alternatively, think about two other ways to grapple with misinformation.
First, place greater trust in people – Internet users, for example, to be more intelligent and more discerning. Almost every empirical study of how people actually use the Internet and related digital technologies like social media indicates that most people who are interested in a topic will look at multiple sources of information.* If they are uncertain or suspicious of one source, they will double or triple check the information, such as by using search or going to a trusted source, such as Wikipedia or an official Web site. Most theories that frighten us about being caught in an echo chamber or filter bubble of false information are technologically deterministic and do not look carefully at how people actually look for and use information. It is clear that the proponents of censorship almost always assume that people are stupid. Only they know how to find the correct information!
Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, put more effort into communicating the right news, information, or facts, rather than trying to block other information. It seems increasingly clear to me that too many government agencies and academic institutions – as two examples – are too complacent about reaching their audiences. They might set up a Web site, and post a report online, but not really put major effort into reaching out to ensure that a larger audience is aware of the work, can access it, and understand its message. Think about popular conspiracy theories, like QAnon. They have an evolving narrative, a distributed network of people sharing and helping to distribute their messages. They are motivated and creative in getting this information out. Legitimate and more authoritative sources of information need to be just as clever, if not cleverer and more motivated and ingenious in figuring how a narrative and various outlets will help them reach their audiences in not only digestible but compelling ways.
In the case of QAnon, I agree with a recent post by Abby Ohlheiser that it’s ‘too late to stop QAnon with fact checks and account bans’.** But it is not too late to stop being complacent about how you and your colleagues and organization communicate in this digital world. You need to be creative, smart and motivated to reach audiences. You may be an authority in your own eyes, but few people will come to you as a source of information. Putting something online won’t suffice. If you or your unit has important information, such as about protecting yourself in a pandemic, then you need to reach out to audiences that matter using all the tools available on Twitter, WordPress, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, LinkedIn, and via the press.
As hypocrite in chief, at least I am writing this blog. But far more would need to be done in order to communicate this message. Agree?
* For example, see: Dutton, W. H., Reisdorf, B. C., Blank, G., Dubois, E., and Fernandez, L. (2019), ‘The Internet and Access to Information About Politics: Searching Through Filter Bubbles, Echo Chambers, and Disinformation’, pp. 228-247 in Graham, M., and Dutton, W. H. (eds), Society and the Internet: How Networks of Information and Communication are Changing our Lives, 2nd Edition. Oxford: Oxford University Press. An earlier version of this paper is online at: https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=2960697
We are conducting weekly surveys of the general public in the UK. The questions address issues around how the public are using various media to understand the pandemic and the best approaches to protecting their health. I will add to this blog from time to time to up-date you on our progress, but I’d also invite anyone with a serious interest in this research to follow the project web site at: https://ahc.leeds.ac.uk/communicating_the_pandemic