Clear communication makes a difference

I was taught by my history teacher that a good essay has three parts. These parts could be summed up in a simple rule: ‘Tell them what you are going to tell them, tell them, and then tell them what you told them.’ In the subsequent years, and in my writing, I have tried to keep that rule in mind.

I was reminded of this rule earlier in the year when reading an article published in the Atlantic Magazine. The article, despite the emotive title (Washington’s Sewage Apocalypse), is a well constructed narrative of a sewer main failure in Washington DC. It's behind a paywall, but I recommend registering for a free trial to read it, or better still buy a subscription. The writer takes the time to guide the reader through a clear narrative. We learn what happened, what the likely cause of the failure is, where the uncertainties are, and the arguments around the difficulties of solving the problem.

That ‘taking the time’ is what makes the article work. The writer doesn’t assume knowledge and nor do they dumb the language down; when it is necessary to introduce a technical term then this is gently explained and, where necessary, links to further information are provided. Experts are spoken to, and the challenges of asset management and asset health are discussed. Most importantly, when I had finished reading the article, I had learned something. At the risk of coining a phrase, ‘slow writing’ is worth taking the time over. I’ll come back to why this matters later.
 

At HR Wallingford, as I expect is the case elsewhere, we have strict processes that we follow when issuing reports. As is the norm, we have an author, a reviewer, and an approver. The role of those latter ensures that, in addition to the report being technically correct and evidence-based, that the report has a clear narrative that leads the reader through the need for the study, what was done, and why this matters. ‘Tell them what you are going to tell them, tell them, and then tell them what you told them.’ 

Just as important as the narrative is how we use language. I’ve learned to be strict about my choice of words and what they mean: recently we completed a report on impact-based forecasting and warning. In my initial draft I used the expression ‘natural disasters’, only for a colleague to point out that the United Nations Office for Disaster Risk Reduction had stopped using the phrase 'natural disasters', as disasters are a societal failure. Similarly, I’ll never confuse ‘risk’ with ‘hazard’ or ‘probability’ ever again. 

When writing and presenting, it’s important to know your audience and make your message accessible. This sometimes means spending lots of time over the content, title, and layout of a figure. Qualifiers also matter. In 1967, Sarah Lichtenstein and Robert Newman undertook a study of how respondents interpreted the probability of 41 probability-related words. ‘Likely’ had a range of 0.25-0.99; ‘Barely possible’ had a range of 0.01-0.6. As an aside, there is a whole essay to be written about how the terms ‘return periods’ or ‘annual exceedance probabilities’ are used… 

Good communication is an art - as explained in a Guardian article by Ros Atkins - and when presented well, information can be beautiful. Within our little corner of the world, I believe we’re getting better at it. I can see great examples of it in the writing of Scot Reid, Niki Roach’s Planet Possible Podcast, in how my colleague Craig Goff spoke to the BBC about the near failure of the Todbrook Dam, or any of Matt Wheeldon’s impassioned sermons on rainwater management. 
 

Like many across the water industry, I’m filled with an acute sense of dread around that time of the year when the annual returns are published. We’re guaranteed lots of radio airtime and front pages and there will be headlines around ‘water companies pumping raw sewage’. This reporting inevitably leads to political soundbites and can result in policy decisions. Around this time of the year there is a plethora of bad communication about our industry. 

But it doesn’t have to be this way. Communicating effectively matters because it informs what happens next. How we report and communicate has an impact on investment decisions. In an industry with a significant skills gap and a massive investment programme, it’s important that we are clear about where our existing skills base is used. If we get this wrong, we risk significant opportunity cost. Take, for example, the Storm Overflow Discharge Reduction Plan (SODRP). It’s my view that, while resulting in some positive outcomes, SODRP has diverted resources away from programmes of work that might have produced better outcomes. 

Perhaps if we’d talked about the impact of spills rather than the number of them we’d be in a different position, enabling us to look at longer-term solutions that take into account other sources of pollution (especially agriculture and highway runoff) and the wider catchment using a common value framework. 

Instead, as noted by the Institution of Civil Engineers in its Infrastructure Blog, the rush to develop solutions can result in unintended consequences, such as increased carbon emissions. And it’s also our money. We’re all bill-payers as well as professionals. We have the luxury of being in a position where we have the gift of informing and prioritising how that money is spent. 

To go back to that Atlantic article, in getting communication right it is important to take time over it. There is a challenge; as the late Terry Pratchett wrote ‘a lie can run round the world before the truth has got its boots on’. In the interests of evidenced-based writing, it should be noted that there is significant debate over the origins of this saying.

I’m not so naïve as to not know that the 24-hour news cycle doesn’t often allow for time to be taken. I would certainly hate to be interviewed live about the annual returns. But, and wherever possible, I firmly believe that from the perspective of the writer, as well as the reader, slow writing is worth it. Moreover, I hope that taking the time over our writing can make a lasting difference. 

This article was first published in Martin Osborne’s ‘The DWMP blog’.