“Data not dates” is Boris Johnson’s newest slogan. One likes to think the meeting at which it was dreamed up dismissed other vine fruit-based options like “reasons not raisins” and “info not vino tinto” (truly online rhyming dictionaries are as much the friend of columnists as they are of deadbeat songwriters).
The PM unveiled his unlockdown plan with a pledge that the process would be driven by science. Hence “data not dates”.
But he’s claimed all his previous coronavirus policy calamities have been led by the science, too. And we know that’s not strictly true. For example, the scientists wanted a short sharp firebreak lockdown in the autumn to stop the spread possibly seeded by Rishi Sunak’s Eat Out To Help Out scheme. But Downing Street said “no”. Similarly, they knew about the fast-spreading Kent variant in December but chose to trade one day of Christmas for a few thousand lives.
“Data not dates” is a classic of the Johnsonian genre. It fits the template in being three words long and fundamentally meaningless. Like “take back control”, “get Brexit done” and “not my child”.
The UK may have more sovereignty since leaving the EU but it’s unclear what we’ve gained control of, and the idea that Brexit is “done” is nothing short of laughable given the ever-growing list of put out industries demanding the exit deal is tweaked or updated. Shellfish, pig farming, fashion, au pairs, daffodil growers, musicians – each one seems fairly insignificant alone but combined they add up to an awful lot of damage economically, culturally and on the nation’s stature abroad. It’s a bit like the current Cabinet. Individually, they just appear laughably dopey. Combined, they can wreak an awful lot of damage economically, culturally and on the nation’s reputation abroad.
Johnson’s three-word slogans inevitably unravel on contact with reality. “Data not dates” will meet the same fate. For data is increasingly a word both overblown and subject to abuse.
A while back, “data journalism” was the buzz phrase in media. It involved journalists searching stats, figures, information and uncovering stories. Basically the sort of stuff journalists have been doing for decades. The only difference between data journalism and old-fashioned journalism was that the former didn’t actually involve talking to anyone. And consequently was weaker for it. For journalism, like politics, is about people. The numbers matter but only in how they impact folks’ lives.
Government’s new-found fondness for data comes up against the same issue. I listened to Johnson’s turn in the Commons on Monday while out for my daily exercise through a local park. As he said people could meet outside in a couple of weeks I walked past three youths chatting on a park bench. He intimated outdoor sport will be allowed next month and I looked over at the half a dozen lads kicking a ball about in the winter mud. And I could see plenty of families meeting up at the end of homeschool for the day doing the thing the PM says isn’t allowed until Easter. Real people, not data.
‘Outrageous as it is unfair’
For while data has a role in policy, it’s only part of the picture. People are fed up with lockdown and increasingly following their own rules. And that’s not entirely unreasonable. Bear in mind the only reason governments across the UK are taking the unlocking process incredibly slowly this time round is because they’ve all made mistakes in the past. We punters followed the rules previously, they made the wrong calls, we’re expected to remain in stasis as a result. It’s important we don’t come out of lockdown too soon again. But to remain under restrictions a day longer than necessary not because of clear and present danger but because the government doesn’t know what it’s doing is as outrageous as it is unfair. And if any government, in Westminster or Holyrood, were demonstrating an excess of caution – excess being the key word – because they’ve one eye on elections in May there would be another three-word slogan to describe them – out of order.
Data doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It supports, embellishes, explains human stories. For example, unemployment statistics are one thing. The human toll of worklessness on happiness, relationships and self-esteem cannot be measured or metricated. It must be told. And it must be understood by those who seek to govern.
A prime minister who tells people they can’t meet up outdoors while outside his window people meet up outdoors can be summed up in three words – out of touch. And the inevitable fate of such an administration can also be boiled down to the form favoured by Johnson – out of time.
James Millar is a political commentator and author and a former Westminster correspondent for The Sunday Post
