Visiting the in-laws over the holidays, we all had a good chuckle when my brother-in-law delivered his favorite line from comedian George Carlin:
“Just imagine how dumb the average person is, and realize that half the people are dumber than that.”
We laughed, and then I added: “You know, statistically, most people are dumber than average.”
Silence for a moment. Then my brother-in-law, an engineer, and my mother-in-law, a retired college administrator and statistics professor, started laughing more: “You’re right,” they said.
The exchange highlights two things about journalists that helps make the information you get more reliable, but means we don’t often get invited over for dinner a second time:
•We need to know a little bit about just about everything.
•We need to be very precise in what words we use and how we phrase things.
The Carlin joke, in particular, requires a bit of understanding of math. In any number set with a lower limit, but no upper limit, like intelligence quotients, the average will tend to be higher than the median. The logic works for real estate prices, too. Take, for example, 10 homes. Nine have a value of $100,000; the tenth is worth $1.1 million. The average value — the total value divided by the 10 properties — is $200,000. But the median value — the figure where half the properties are higher and half are lower — is $100,000. One higher value offsets many lower values.
Snotty little jokes like that keep me off the welcomed-guest list. But it’s a basic of eighth grade mathematics that journalists need to understand. It’s why we ask for median housing prices, or median income, rather than the average. It’s why we avoid using precise mathematical terms like “average” and “median” when we’re using approximations. (We might use “typical” in those situations.)
Somewhere out there, in an audience of thousands of readers, someone will know the difference and call us on it.
That’s why we avoid the term “murder” in anything except a situation where murder is charged. Under New York State Penal Code (with which we’re also supposed to have a passing familiarity), “murder” is the killing of a person with either intent or a depraved indifference to whether a person lives or dies. Homicides where the suspect intended to injure, but killed instead, or killed unintentionally in certain circumstances, are manslaughters.
There’s a difference between being “cash flow positive” and “profitable,” as any business journalist can explain. And government reporters need to know the difference between “operational expense” and “capital expense.” It helps to understand the difference between U.S. democracy and other forms, such as parliamentary democracies.
As a food writer, one should understand the difference between a “braise” and a “stew,” or a “sweat” and a “sauté.”
Science and engineering journalists need to be able to speak in very technical language, but still explain it to you in words you might use. Sports journalists need to understand the intricacies of their sports, without falling into the Moneyball theory that gets super-technical.
However, there’s a difference between precise language and professional jargon. A doctor might say you have a “subdural hematoma;” we’ll say you have “internal bleeding,” probably in connection with a traumatic brain injury. Medics will say “abrasions,” “contusions” and “lacerations.” We’ll say “scrapes,” “bruises” and “cuts.”
Now, if you understand all that, and why we try to be precise in all those concepts, I’ll suggest you’re smarter than average. And that’s a pretty uncommon thing.
Todd R. McAdam is managing editor of the Cortland Standard. He can be reached at tmcadam@cortlandstandard.com.
