Abstract
News footage provided by readers and viewers has entered a new era, where we’re faced with more propaganda, hoaxes and graphic detail than ever before.
Before long, this on-the-ground footage was leading the news bulletins and going viral within minutes. In the case of the Arab Spring, it was even instrumental in throwing over entrenched regimes. Then, alongside this increasing power, we started to see – particularly in the last year – the darker, more manipulative side of UGC. From Islamic State’s (IS) propaganda to the information war between Russia and Ukraine, it had become an industry, not a byproduct.
“There are hoaxers now, trying to trip you up,” says Chris Hamilton, social media editor for BBC News, which has faced increasing challenges in verifying content and deciding what to publish. “Some use it as a propaganda tool. And also, with the Sydney siege and Woolwich murder [of British soldier Lee Rigby by two Islamic extremists], we’ve seen events that are staged with online media coverage in mind.” In both cases, passersby or hostages were asked to film statements to post on the web.
The BBC’s UGC department was first launched in July 2005 as a pilot project. One week later, the 7/7 bombings hit London and the new department leapt into action, collating witness accounts. The value was noted, the project went permanent, and the team now works 24/7, in the heart of the main, open-plan newsroom. On an average day, 3,000 pieces of user content are received – including images, comments, emails, SMS, and tweets. This swells to 10,000 during bad weather – the core British audience having a particular compulsion for sending in photos of their garden furniture in snow.
Much of this content is uncontroversial, but the images and videos sent from war zones or disaster scenes need particular attention. Verification involves looking at the core details – including when, where and how content was uploaded – and then assuming a quasi-detective role. Shadows can be a giveaway. So can accents. Is this old footage? Is it from another conflict? Has the soundtrack been dubbed to increase gunfire? Are those fighter jets on a major attack, or has one jet been mirrored to look like a squadron?
Alex Murray, a verification specialist within the BBC’s team, remembers realising a small white square in the corner of a video from Libya was an expensive portable satellite, and thus it could not have come from by a casual bystander. High-end equipment can indicate a video has been funded by states, by rebels, even by NGOs. “Videos are becoming increasingly professional,” he says. “In the early days, you’d be lucky if people remembered to turn their device around to shoot landscape. [Everyone instinctively shoots portrait, which doesn’t fit a TV screen.] Now you have cameras that create broadcast quality.”
Expensive equipment can indicate a video has been funded by states, by rebels, even by NGOs
A mobile phone being used to capture pictures of an election rally in Tunisia
Credit: Benedicte Desrus /Alamy
We, the audience, hate to be duped, yet breaking stories are often embraced with a share-first, verify-later mentality. And if the footage fits in with the narrative we want to believe, we might never ask these questions. One of the biggest debunks of recent months was the “Syrian hero boy” video in November, where a young boy seems to risk his own life saving a girl from gunfire. A Norwegian filmmaker then admitted he’d staged it – in Malta – to “spur debate” about children in war zones. The BBC, sensing trickery, never posted it, but it had already been viewed millions of times. And, as Hamilton notes: “Many more people saw the hoax than the follow-up report, so many still believe it to be true.”
The BBC may be doing its best to be responsible, but the platforms where users upload content directly have their own standards. The Sydney siege videos and IS beheadings were quickly censored by YouTube, but by that time they had already been copied and shared elsewhere. Less mainstream sites – such as LiveLeak – are quick to step in and publish the most gruesome videos. Justpaste.it, a Polish-owned site, inadvertently became jihadists’ choice platform last year, because it allows users to post material without having to register and the simple design loads quickly on mobile phones, without needing a strong internet connection.
IS have also found a new trick in enhancing the credibility of their content: they are uploading their images to Archive.org, also known as the Wayback Machine, which is designed to be a internet time capsule. The not-profit organisation is aiming to collect a historic record of the web and won’t delete footage. “It’s a symbolic act,” says Murray. “They are saying, ‘We are doing this, so our content will be protected by the first amendment; it’s part of a catalogue of our times’. People look on these sites for events of historic significance.”
“Everyone that shares a video is in some way an activist,” adds Murray. Whether they are hoping to help as a citizen reporter, or whether they have more sinister motivations. “They are partial; they are all sharing their experience from a personal standpoint.”
Some people don’t even realise they are becoming players in a much bigger story when they first hit upload. Take the bystander who posted footage of the final moments of Ahmed Merabet, the policeman, shot dead on the pavement outside Charlie Hebdo’s offices in Paris. In a state of shock, the user made the split-second decision to post what he’d just seen on to Facebook. When he regretted it and took it down 15 minutes later, it was too late; it had gone worldwide. “I take a photo – a cat – and I put it on Facebook. It was the same stupid reflex,” he told Associated Press.
But this is how news stories happen now: split-second decisions; a hunger for drama; a desire to share opinions and witness accounts instantly to be part of the action. But while audiences get more knee-jerk, those behind-the-scenes are getting increasingly savvy, from those producing the copycat propaganda to the small teams jumping through hoops to verify it. There are still viewers out there innocently sharing photos of their patio furniture in the snow, but the other side is fast-growing and powerful. More skepticism and patience would serve us well, but, in the hungry 24-hour news cycle, it’s not something we are likely to see.