It was nearly midnight in the little village on the north shore of Loch Ness, but the sun still hung stubbornly in the sky. The loch’s placid surface was a blue-grey mirror. Seagulls cawed noisily overhead, interrupting the otherwise silent night. I checked into my tiny roadside cottage, decorated in kitschy Loch Ness Monster décor, and collapsed on the single mattress, feeling more like I’d arrived at a sleepaway summer camp than on a research expedition. I mentally reviewed the coming days: interview, interview, interview, archive, tour. I stared at the ceiling and wondered, not for the first time, what I’d gotten myself into.
I came to Loch Ness on a mission, not to find the monster, but to explore the story behind the myth for my book, LOCH NESS UNCOVERED. I’d become fascinated with the Surgeon’s Photo, that famous 1934 image purporting to show a monster’s head and neck rising above the rippling waters of Loch Ness. Of course, we now know that the Surgeon’s Photo was a hoax. But it was the story behind the photo that had captivated me. Perpetrated by a dynamic group of brilliant, upper crust pranksters, the Surgeon’s Photo was the product of two film dynamos, one special effects artist, and one doctor who would later become a pioneering spy with the British OSS. These were tweeded gentlemen who spent their weeks among London’s fashionable circles and their weekends hoodwinking the whole world. It was Oceans 11 meets Downtown Abbey, with a splash of Jurassic Park thrown in for good measure. I couldn’t get enough.
Before I drifted off for a couple of hours of precious, jet-lagged sleep that night, my last thoughts circled around how I’d handle the dynamics of the coming days. As a nonbeliever, would I offend the good people of the Loch Ness Exhibition Center? What about the folks running Loch Ness Cruises? Nessieland? How would they respond to my questions about the photo and the men behind it? I didn’t think Loch Ness ever froze, but I might find myself on thin ice nonetheless.
I was in for a big surprise. The monster hunters and monster experts I interviewed were kind, funny, and incredibly self-aware. They knew every detail of the prank, and also saw the Nessie legend for exactly what it was: a great story, something that inspired curiosity and exploration, and an economic boost as well. Nobody tried to pass off fabricated evidence as legitimate, or falsehoods as facts. In fact, many of my interviews focused less on the monster herself, and more on what had turned her into such a recognizable cryptid: Fake News.
The Loch Ness Monster’s rise to fame is a case study in Fake News, or media misinformation. Publishers at tabloid newspapers such as London’s Daily Mail, recognizing the appeal of splashy monster stories, cranked out column after column of unreliable, poorly researched, error-riddled articles. Other papers followed suit. Readers couldn’t get enough. Amid this wave of monster fever, few stopped to ask critical questions about what they were reading. A variety of factors—including the political and economic climate of the 1930s, and psychological phenomena such as confirmation bias and expectant attention—added fuel to the fire. Before anyone knew it, Fake News had turned Nessie into a household name.
Thinking about the Loch Ness Monster as a product of media misinformation is a great way to reframe our current thinking about Fake News. Doing so opens doors to discuss the importance of media literacy in kid-friendly terms. It also highlights just how fast news stories can spread, and how the popularity of an idea impacts its believability.
Before I left Scotland, I hired a company to take me on a SONAR guided tour of Loch Ness. Even though I knew there was no monster lurking in its inky waters, I still felt duty bound to double check. Just in case. I sat in the cabin just behind the captain’s perch, and monitored dual screens displaying the loch’s depths. Dots flickered on the screen. “Salmon,” the captain explained. We cruised the loch’s length and I marveled at its steep banks. No monster appeared on our SONAR. Finally, I climbed up to the deck to take in the scenery before we returned to shore. Rolling green hillsides hugged its banks. A medieval castle crumbled nearby. Grey clouds hung low overhead. I looked down into the water and tried to see into its inky depths, but couldn’t make anything out. Loch Ness is famous for its black, nearly opaque waters. I sighed, content in my own silly confirmation, but also slightly disappointed. Finding a monster there would have been exciting. I supposed I’d have to settle for the monster I already knew quite well: Fake News.
Rebecca Siegel has worked in children’s publishing for 17 years, first as an editor and then as an author. Her books have received starred reviews in Booklist, have been named a Mighty Girl’s Book of the Year, and NSTA Outstanding Science Trade Books for Students. In addition to writing books, Rebecca also occasionally publishes essays on sites like Huffington Post and Scary Mommy. She lives in the Chicago suburbs with her husband and two daughters. Visit rebeccasiegel.com.
