Reclaiming our Journalism
By Doug Fisher
It's
been a tough year. Journalism has been economically and legally
assaulted and then, literally, physically battered by Hurricanes
Katrina and Rita and Wilma.
The
Florida Press Club kindly invited me recently to reflect
at its annual meeting on the current state of our business, and
I'd like to share some of those thoughts.
For
journalists, it's time to ask a basic question: What is our journalism
worth?
If
we look at it with the hard eye we bring to our stories,
the answer might be nothing.
For a journalist, advertisers exist to turn time, the way our readers
and viewers pay us, into money, the way business keeps score. So
we are faced with continuing the current system or finding some
intrinsic value in what we do.
But if our value comes from defining journalism by the package
it comes in, we have a problem at a time of rising popularity of
free papers and as we continue to struggle with charging for news
on the Web. Without knowing what our journalism is worth, we end
up valuing the package, not the content. And that leaves us vulnerable
to changes that make the package less relevant.
Yet
I rarely hear journalists ask this basic question. Some researchers
have tried to figure out whether quality journalism can be valued,
whether it has some intrinsic worth. So far, the answer is a tentative
yes.
But
too much of today's journalism is just a commodity, and
as we learned in beginning economics, in a commodity business you
get large and you get cheap, which is what is happening around us.
If
we don't define journalism's worth, if we let others do it for us,
we might as well admit journalism is a social good to be supported
by foundations, donations and government funding. In short, the
way we pay for many social goods in this country – by begging.
We
aren't alone in this. Kodak, a media company of a different
sort, is struggling with many similar problems. Journalists went
through yards of film at a time until digital cameras became affordable.
We wanted those images now. And we could do away with chemicals
and cost.
In
the late 1990s, the AP went digital and the industry followed,
leaving Kodak behind.
Just
like our readers, we wanted rapid relevance – when
we wanted it, where we wanted it, how we wanted it. And if we didn't
care about a little $13 billion company and its workers, why should
our readers care about a $3 billion Knight Ridder or New York Times
or a $1 billion McClatchy – or any other media company, if
we don't give them what they want?
It sounds bleak; it doesn't need to be. But we must bet on the
jockey, not the horse.
Horses
are like technology – big, sleek, powerful – and more
likely to come in out of the money when I bet on them. But I have
learned, especially at harness tracks, to bet the jockey's skill
and craft, and it works a lot more often for me than betting on
the "technology."
As
journalists, let's worry less about the technology and
bet more on our craft. If you're a good storyteller, you already
are honing the skills necessary in this multimedia, always-on world.
You're
trying to create sight, sound and smell in the mind. You're
prepared going into that City Council meeting, knowing a story is
more than a bunch of quotes. And the smart writer has always worked
with photographers, knowing a so-so story could make 1-A with a
great photo.
So if thriving in this multimedia world is about being aware of
all the ways to tell a story and being willing to use them, then
as a good storyteller you're ahead to start.
Two final points: "I watch the people, not the rats," said
Europe's pre-eminent exterminator as he explained his success to
an author.
Rats
eat the food people leave. So in France he mixes in a little
butterfat with the poison. In Germany, it's pork fat. In Venice,
I guess it's olive oil.
As journalists, we too often write for the "rats" we
cover. We expect our readers and viewers to swallow it. But they
no longer must eat what we're serving. So let's not forget that
it doesn't hurt to mix a little butter – or some occasional
sugar – into our stories.
Finally, consider what Sumner Redstone said in announcing the breakup
of $23 billion Viacom: "In the 21st century, large is no longer
in charge."
The
essence of journalism is small. We too often confuse journalism
with the practice of putting out a newspaper or putting
on a newscast. Those are team efforts, but gathering news, discovering
and uncovering, going places where the average person can't go – that remains
a one-on-one relationship between source and journalist.
Small
means opportunity. If we don't like the way things are
going and think we can do it better, there's no better time. You
can put up a community news Web site for a few hundred dollars and
a few hours' work. Remember, unlike at Kodak, we are the raw material.
Will
such "citizen journalism" make money? That's what we're
trying to find out in a South Carolina project. But don't dismiss
such things, as a former SPJ president did.
"There is a difference between 'citizen journalism' and 'professional
journalism,'" he wrote. "A professional journalist's No.
1 obligation is to be accurate. A citizen journalist's No. 1 obligation
is to be interesting."
No,
the challenge for all of us now is to be accurate and interesting,
and that may mean asking our readers in to help.
If
we can figure out the worth of what we do, bet on the jockey
and not the horse, and watch the people not the rats – and
if we remember that large is not in charge – I believe we
can reclaim journalism's soul, no matter what the medium.
