How to Lie with Survey (2)

Have you come across the phrase “Ternak Mulyono”? It originates from Indonesian social media, particularly TikTok, and it is used as a clever and satirical way to highlight how certain political elites appear to cultivate their loyalists not based on merit but on allegiance. The word “ternak” (which means “livestock”) alludes to the systematic nurturing of devoted followers, while “Mulyono” does not refer to a real person—it is simply a generic name used to represent those in power. The phrase has become a kind of unofficial “political password” among digital natives, a meme-able symbol of the public’s growing frustration with patronage and oligarchic tendencies in governance 

The term “Termul,” short for “Ternak Mulyono,” is used satirically in Indonesian slang to describe supporters of Joko Widodo and his inner circle. It portrays these individuals as being “reared” or cultivated—much like livestock—by political elites, rather than being independent thinkers. In essence, the term carries a mildly derogatory connotation, implying that the followers were groomed for loyalty rather than won over by genuine conviction. 

Termul" often signifies comically blind or overly devoted fandom, especially in political contexts—occasionally mocked in deep social-media discourse, even involving public figures—but there’s no concrete evidence of an actual appointed official proudly calling themselves Termul.

In the world of politics, “Termul” and survey manipulation are like a comedy duo that never fails to perform in sync. The Termul are the devoted audience who will applaud even when the show is a flop, while survey manipulation is the sound engineer turning up the volume of that applause so it sounds like a packed concert. The result? The atmosphere appears lively even though half the seats are empty, and public approval ratings soar—at least on paper.

If it were a concert, the Termul would be the ones queuing from dawn just to be in the front row, wholeheartedly believing the singer always performs live, even though half of it is lip-synced. Survey manipulation, on the other hand, would be the stage manager busily handing out flyers to the media, claiming the concert is sold out and every spectator is 100% satisfied. Yet, if you peeked backstage, you’d find audience members already heading home grumbling—but that story is conveniently buried under the “huge success” narrative crafted by the organisers.

In “The Opinion Makers: An Insider Exposes the Truth Behind the Polls” (2008, Beacon Press), David Moore, a former senior editor at the Gallup Poll, provides a damning critique of how political surveys are often engineered not to reflect public opinion, but to manufacture it. He reveals how polling questions can be worded to produce desired outcomes and how results are often spun to support media narratives or political agendas.

According to Moore, polling questions can be deliberately crafted to yield specific outcomes by manipulating the phrasing, context, or emotional framing of the question. Moore, a former senior editor at the Gallup Poll, explains that even subtle shifts in wording—such as emphasising fear, patriotism, or moral urgency—can lead respondents toward predictable answers. Moreover, by excluding crucial background information or offering a limited set of answer options, pollsters can steer public opinion to appear more supportive or opposed to a particular policy or figure than it actually is. The book lays bare how polls, far from being neutral instruments of public insight, often become tools of persuasion in the hands of those who commission them.

Moore reveals that polling questions can be worded in highly strategic ways to produce desired outcomes, primarily by exploiting ambiguity, emotional triggers, or selective framing. By subtly shaping the language of a question—whether through loaded terms, leading phrasing, or the exclusion of relevant context—pollsters can push respondents toward a predetermined answer. For instance, asking "Do you support government efforts to fight terrorism?" is far more likely to elicit approval than "Do you support increased government surveillance of private citizens?"—even if both refer to the same policy.

Furthermore, Moore argues that the manipulation does not stop with the question itself. The presentation of poll results is just as vulnerable to distortion. Media outlets and political actors often cherry-pick favourable data points, exaggerate trends, or omit contradictory findings in order to reinforce their existing narratives or policy agendas. Even headlines can be misleading, proclaiming "Public Backs Reform!" based on a result that may show lukewarm or mixed support. According to Moore, this misuse turns polls into instruments of propaganda rather than tools of democratic insight, manufacturing consent instead of reflecting genuine public opinion.

In Polls and Politics: The Dilemmas of Democracy (State University of New York Press, 2004)n Michael A. Genovese and Matthew J. Streb explore how television and media‑focused polls contribute to the broader democratic process, weighing both their potential benefits and their troubling pitfalls. They show that while opinion polls can inform citizens and political leaders—sometimes giving the public a theatrical “voice” in policy debate—they also carry a darker side. Polls can be used to manipulate public sentiment through carefully constructed questions, strategic timing, and the selective presentation of results, especially in the context of television and media coverage. This “horse‑race” style of journalism, which emphasises poll standings over substantive policy discussion, risks fostering political cynicism, reducing informed engagement, and skewing democratic accountability.

One key chapter on “Push Polling” (by Streb and Susan H. Pinkus) examines how surveys can be used not just to gauge opinion but to spread misleading information under the guise of polling—thereby influencing how respondents think rather than measuring what they think. Other contributions detail how presidents and campaign strategists have used polling data to tailor messages, adjust tactics, and sometimes prioritise image over policy, undermining the role of public opinion in a representative democracy.

Overall, the authors argue that in a robust democratic system, polls—especially televised and media‑driven ones—must be handled with care. Polls can enhance democracy when used responsibly, but they also risk distorting it when misused by media or political elites to craft narratives, manage perceptions, or marginalise dissenting voices.

In Trust Me, I’m Lying: Confessions of a Media Manipulator (2012, Portfolio/Penguin), Ryan Holiday exposes the alarming ease with which fake or biased data—polls included—can be deliberately planted within the media ecosystem to manufacture news cycles that favour powerful interests. Holiday, having worked as a media strategist and publicist, explains how blogs and digital news outlets—driven by clicks, speed, and sensationalism—often lack the time or incentive to fact-check stories thoroughly. This vulnerability allows manipulators to submit or leak dubious "data" (such as rigged polls or phony surveys) to lower-tier blogs, which then get picked up by larger outlets, eventually spiralling into mainstream legitimacy.

The tactic hinges on exploiting the media’s hunger for content and its tendency to trust anything that appears data-driven. Once a figure or percentage enters the news stream—regardless of its accuracy—it gains momentum and credibility merely through repetition. Holiday describes how PR firms or political operatives might fund a “study” with loaded methodology, then use that as a news hook to push an agenda: whether it's selling a product, boosting a candidate, or smearing an opponent. By the time corrections or scepticism arise (if they arise at all), the original headline has already done its damage. According to Holiday, this cycle not only deceives the public but corrodes the very idea of an informed citizenry.

Herbert Hyman’s Taking Society’s Measure: A Personal History of Survey Research was published in 1991 by the Russell Sage Foundation. In this memoir-cum-history, Hyman documents the evolution of sample survey research in the United States from the late 1930s through the early 1960s, tracking its emergence as a vital instrument of social inquiry. He offers a vivid, first-hand account of his involvement with key institutions—the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the Office of War Information, the U.S. Strategic Bombing Surveys in Germany and Japan, the National Opinion Research Center, and the Bureau of Applied Social Research at Columbia University. Hyman’s narrative richly conveys how survey research matured as a discipline amid wartime exigencies and post-war development, emphasising the methodological challenges, influential personalities, and the informal networks that helped shape the craft.

Hyman recounts how the urgent demands of the Second World War acted as both a crucible and a catalyst, compelling researchers—often learning the craft as they went—to develop rigorous methods under extraordinary pressure. The Division of Program Surveys, the Office of War Information, the War Department’s Research Branch, and the U.S. Strategic Bombing Surveys became laboratories of innovation where probability sampling, structured interviewing, and systematic coding were refined to a high standard. In these contexts, surveys were not merely academic exercises but instruments of policy and strategy, capable of influencing military decisions, public morale, and governmental planning in real time.

Hyman describes how institutions like the National Opinion Research Center and Columbia University’s Bureau of Applied Social Research transformed the wartime survey apparatus into a respected scholarly discipline. Methodological sophistication deepened, theoretical frameworks expanded, and the scope of research broadened from urgent wartime topics to enduring questions of social attitudes, community dynamics, and mass communication. Funding, academic recognition, and international outreach gave survey research a stability and prestige it had lacked in its experimental beginnings. By the close of the second part, Hyman makes it clear that the war years had not only validated the survey as a method but had also prepared the ground for its institutionalisation as a central tool of both social science and public decision-making.

Through Taking Society’s Measure, Herbert Hyman ultimately concludes that survey research, far from being a mere technical procedure, is a living social instrument shaped by the historical, political, and institutional contexts in which it operates. His personal narrative reveals that the method’s legitimacy and sophistication were forged in moments of necessity—most dramatically during the Second World War—when the urgent need for reliable, actionable information pushed researchers to innovate and professionalise their craft. He emphasises that the war years provided both the proof of concept and the momentum for postwar institutionalisation, turning surveys into a respected scholarly discipline capable of influencing policy, guiding public debate, and enriching social science. At its heart, Hyman’s conclusion is that the value of surveys lies not only in the rigour of their design but also in their ability to connect empirical evidence with pressing human concerns, thereby making knowledge a practical force in society.

In The Art of Statistics (2019, Penguin Books), Sir David Spiegelhalter reminds us that numbers rarely speak for themselves; rather, they are pliable tools shaped by choices—what questions are asked, how data are selected, and the narratives we cloak around them. He warns that researchers often fall prey to the 'garden of forking paths', where every analytical choice, from stopping data collection to slicing variables, can skew findings. Thus, when interpreting a survey, we must ask not just what the numbers are, but how they came to be—and whose interests they serve.

Moreover, Spiegelhalter advocates for critical reflexivity: the moment you hear a statistical claim, especially one amplified by headlines or politics, “that very fact … is reason to disbelieve it,” invoking his version of the Groucho principle. In a world where numbers are spun like genjutsu, this healthy scepticism is our shinobi tool: a method to cut through the illusion and reclaim the truth beneath the data.

[Part 1]

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