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Melinda McClure Haughey, PhD
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When the news breaks—an election outcome flips, a violent protest erupts, a video goes viral—people race to make sense of what’s happening. Often, they’re flooded with speculation, conflicting takes, or rumors spreading faster than facts. The speed and intensity of the modern information environment means the public doesn’t just wait to be informed; they interpret in real time.
But journalists, too, are part of this race. They're not just reporting on events—they’re working to _understand_ them, under pressure, so they can offer meaningful explanations to the public. And increasingly, they’re not doing that work alone.
Journalists have always been tasked with helping the public interpret complex, contested realities. But today’s high-stakes moments—elections, political violence, public health crises—push that responsibility to its limits. False or misleading narratives can go viral within hours. Verified, contextual information often lags behind.
My research shows that while the public expects fast, credible explanations, journalists often lack the support systems they need to meet that demand—especially when it comes to accessing expert knowledge. The result is a widening gap between what the public needs to know and what journalists can reliably deliver in time.
This dissertation traces that gap and what’s holding it in place. Over the past several years, I’ve studied how journalists and experts interact in moments of public uncertainty, especially when misinformation is likely to thrive. Using interviews, digital ethnography, and real-time observation, I conducted three studies:
- Study 1: How misinformation reporters worked under deadline pressure post-2016, and the growing need for timely academic expertise.
- Study 2: Thirty journalist–researcher collaborations during the 2020 U.S. election, revealing patterns of need and recurring challenges.
- Study 3: A real-time expert helpdesk built for the 2024 U.S. election, showing what structured support can offer—and where care is still required.
Together, these studies build toward a larger argument: that journalists’ ability to truth-seek—and to inform the public quickly and credibly—depends on a fragile set of networks, routines, and relationships we too often take for granted.
To explain what’s at stake, I introduce a framing: the race to sensemake.
When crisis strikes, five overlapping processes unfold:
1. Sensebreaks – when expectations are shattered and the world stops making sense
2. Public sensemaking – as people interpret events through social feeds, rumors, or fragments of evidence
3. Journalistic sensemaking – as reporters gather, verify, and contextualize behind the scenes
4. Expert sensegiving – when specialists offer context, clarity, and framing
5. Journalistic sensegiving – when journalists publish stories that shape public understanding
In this race, timing matters. If journalists can’t access expert insight fast enough, misleading frames often win. And while experts can offer tremendous value—one quote, one call, one clarification—they aren’t always reachable. Sourcing becomes the bottleneck.
One of my core findings is that the systems journalists rely on to access experts—email, social media, PR offices, search engines, personal Rolodexes—are patchwork and unreliable. And during high-attention moments, they often fail.
Journalists described this process as “source roulette.” They send a flurry of emails hoping someone replies. They search academic websites. They tweet into the void. And the outcome is uneven—especially for those in smaller or under-resourced newsrooms.
When these systems break, confusion and misinformation fill the gap. Yet we rarely talk about these breakdowns as part of the larger story.
In my final study, I observed something different. During the 2024 U.S. election, an expert helpdesk on Slack gave journalists structured, real-time access to vetted experts across disciplines.
Dozens of reporters got help within minutes—not hours. Experts clarified rumors, flagged manipulated videos, and offered just-in-time context that shaped responsible coverage. The system wasn’t perfect—but it worked. It was fast, accessible, and designed with journalistic values in mind.
Rather than replace journalism, this infrastructure supported it. Quietly, and effectively.
In the final chapter, I make a case: these expert-sourcing routines—email threads, Slack channels, institutional directories—deserve to be seen and supported as **civic infrastructure**.
Most of the time, they’re invisible. But when they break, the consequences are clear. Naming them as infrastructure makes their importance legible. It invites investment, design, and care.
If journalists are critical to public understanding during crisis moments, then the systems that support their ability to make sense must also be treated as critical.
This post offers a high-level introduction. The full dissertation is available at the link to the right, and I hope to share a series of follow-up posts in the coming month.
If you're interested in journalism, misinformation, or building systems that help society make sense of chaos—this work is for you. And if you’re an editor, technologist, researcher, or funder wondering how to help: I'm happy to chat.