The crisis in journalism is really a crisis in advertising. The depth of recession has had a calamitous effect on publishers' revenues and that puts pressure on the creative side of the business.
There has always been a symbiotic relationship between journalism and advertising. Good journalism creates a good place to advertise. Commercially successful publications tend to breed good journalism.
But companies shouldn't just consider advertising as a way of preserving a marketing environment. Advertising during a recession works.
This from Direct Marketing magazine 1991:
[The American Business Press (ABP) analysed] the severe 1974 to 1975 recession. Relying on questionnaires submitted by advertisers, the study tracked the sales and profits growth of 173 industrial companies between 1972 and 1977. The companies were divided into two groups: those that reduced advertising during the recession; and those that did not reduce advertising.
The study found that the companies that reduced advertising achieved minimal sales growth in 1974, suffered a sales decline in 1975 and increased sales by 70 percent during the five-year period. For companies that maintained their ad budgets, sales suffered no slowdown during the recession and grew 150 percent for the entire period. Profits showed a similar pattern. Most notably, the momentum gained by the steady advertisers during the recession helped them to grow at a faster rate in 1976 and 1977.
The original article can be found at Allbusiness.com.
How should a journalist look?
Picture bylines are a trick to make journalism more human. If you know what the writer looks like, the theory goes, you are more likely to relate the the writing. I prefer the reader to be thinking about the subject rather than the writer's dress sense, but that's me: I am old-fashioned.
The question arises, what should journalists look like. Should they be themselves (or does that risk alienating the audience)? Should they reflect the public's prejudice about what a journalist should look like (press card in the trilby)? Or should they look like they know their subject?
Richard Edwards is the Telegraph's Crime Correspondent and looks a little like a policeman. Well done, Richard. Spot on.
The Guardian seems to have a more casual photo dress policy which allows Music Editor Tim Jonze to look like the musos he's writing about.
Steve Busfield is Head of Hedia and Technology for the Guardian and . . . erm . . . Sorry Steve, that shirt is not really saying Head of Media and Technology
The question arises, what should journalists look like. Should they be themselves (or does that risk alienating the audience)? Should they reflect the public's prejudice about what a journalist should look like (press card in the trilby)? Or should they look like they know their subject?
The Telegraph seems to have a jacket and tie policy, but Political Editor Andrew Porter goes one step further and actually looks like a politician
Richard Edwards is the Telegraph's Crime Correspondent and looks a little like a policeman. Well done, Richard. Spot on.
Pressure to reform libel
Reforming libel is urgent in the interests of free speech according to campaign groups English Pen and Index on Censorship. They have produced a report which recommends changes to the UK libel laws to make it easier to defend a libel action, and to reduce the costs.
These are their recommendations (with my commentary):
Libel in the news
These are their recommendations (with my commentary):
- Unreverse the burden of proof. It would be up to a claimant to prove a story is false. Currently truth is the main defence to libel but the defendant is required to prove the story is true.
- Cap damages at £10,000. Currently there is a £200,000 cap.
- Change the multiple publication rule: currently each repetition is a fresh cause for action. This includes each time a piece is downloaded by a web visitor. The report recommends a single publication rule.
- Only allow English courts to consider a libel action where at least 10% of a publication's circulation is in England. Currently only a few copies need to be sold in England for the courts to claim jurisdiction.
- Establish a libel tribunal as a cheaper alternative to a full trial.
- Strengthen the public interest defence. Currently stories where truth cannot be proved rely on the Reynolds defence. This is only available for stories of the most serious public concern.
- Entitling people to their opinion in a broader range of circumstances. The current fair comment defence comes with a raft of conditions.
- Cap base costs in libel cases. Currently the loser usually pays most of the costs of both sides and the sum is unlimited. The McLibel case is estimated to have cost £10m.
- Create special exemptions for some parts of the internet such as chat.
- Currently limited companies and PLCs have the same rights as individuals to protect their reputation. The report recommends removing libel protection for medium and large companies.
Libel in the news
- Libel stains Britain's good name says the Index on Censorship
- The Times reports that US publishers have threatened to stop publishing in the UK because of the risk of libel action
- Simon Singh, writing in the Guardian, says that UK libel law is out of kilter with the rest of the democratic world, encouraging 'libel tourism' and the erosion of free speech in other countries
- The Index on Censorship and English PEN hope their report will stiffen the resolve of the current parliamentary select committee on press standards, privacy and libel, said Ken Macdonald QC, former director of public prosecutions, quoted in journalism.co.uk
- The BBC quotes the Ministry of Justice saying it will "carefully consider" the suggestions
Journalism: truth vs the big story
Journalists miss the truth, too often, because they seduce themselves into writing the story that readers want to read.
Journalism is about truth, right? The whole point of it is to report what's going on in the world, and if we make stuff up, it rather defeats the object.
In the internet age, truth has gained a new importance. So much of what we read is suspect, that journalists are looking afresh at sourcing, independence, transparency. To stand above the static of more than a trillion pages of information, journalists must (simply must) be credible.
So journalism is about truth. And yet, if I tell you I am badly in need of a haircut, it's true, but it's not really journalism, is it? The number of things that are true is enormous. The number of things that anyone would care to read about is smaller.
Selecting and prioritising information is also a vital part of the journalist's job. Never more so. Using the web is like being invited into a giant warehouse full of identical boxes and being told that what we need is in there somewhere. (Thankfully, Google does a pretty good job of checking out the contents of all the boxes). Some journalists seem (to stretch the analogy beyond its limits) to work flat out filling boxes with random stuff, just to make it more difficult to find anything useful.
It is simplistic to say that we prioritise the most important information. In fact, good journalists are looking for the biggest story. Herein lies the danger because stories don't have to be true.
What makes a big story
In practice, there is another, subtler element at play. We all deal with the randomness of life by trying to force things into categories or shapes. Sometimes information falls into a pattern and we think: "yes, I get that". It makes the world easier to deal with (particularly if the news is bad).
This week's tragedy at Ft Hood, Texas, is a good example of the phenomenon. Right from the start, the authorities were anxious to dampen speculation surrounding the fact that the shooter was a Muslim. Why did they do that? Because there is an instinctive, almost primeval, urge to fit the facts to a story. A big story. If he was a warrior for the forces of terrorism living secretly among us, that is a huge story that fits the big facts. And it is a story that is easy to retell.
But if he was a confused man, frightened of going back to war, that is a more muddled, smaller story. It does not seem to fit with the outrage of what he did. It is more difficult to see how the facts might lead to the consequences.
At the time of writing, it is impossible to know the truth. It could be either of these scenarios or something else entirely. However, it is already possible to see the first story forming in the pages of newspapers and on the web. There will be people who believe it, even if it turns out not to be true. The story fits the scale of the events too well to resist.
Brave journalists will, of course, go after the truth despite the enormous pressure to tell the story their readers want to read. Others will succumb and the truth will dissolve into a collective false memory.
The conflicting draws of truth and the story are understandable in reporting big, complex events. But too often, journalists are distracted from the truth in day-to-day reporting. That damages credibility.
For example, your readers may very well think that the diet of children today is so bad, it is surprising they don't get scurvy.
Everyone knows about scurvy because there is a story connected with it. It is caused by lack of vitamin C and is associated with the exploits of great explorers like Captain Cook. Any modern story including the word scurvy brings with it associations of dramatic deeds, romance, the smell of salt air. At a push, a writer could use one of those special words guaranteed to get a response from any audience: pirates.
So when the Daily Mail discovered that cases of childhood scurvy were on the increase, they may well have felt they had the dream story. Sick children, pirates, adventure. And above all, it fits with their readers' preconceptions.
But is it true?
There has been an increase in the number of children admitted to hospital with scurvy but:
There is a third option. Resist the urge of the great story altogether. Because the truth is there wasn't much of a story in the first place.
Journalism is about truth, right? The whole point of it is to report what's going on in the world, and if we make stuff up, it rather defeats the object.
In the internet age, truth has gained a new importance. So much of what we read is suspect, that journalists are looking afresh at sourcing, independence, transparency. To stand above the static of more than a trillion pages of information, journalists must (simply must) be credible.
So journalism is about truth. And yet, if I tell you I am badly in need of a haircut, it's true, but it's not really journalism, is it? The number of things that are true is enormous. The number of things that anyone would care to read about is smaller.
The truth is in here somewhere
Selecting and prioritising information is also a vital part of the journalist's job. Never more so. Using the web is like being invited into a giant warehouse full of identical boxes and being told that what we need is in there somewhere. (Thankfully, Google does a pretty good job of checking out the contents of all the boxes). Some journalists seem (to stretch the analogy beyond its limits) to work flat out filling boxes with random stuff, just to make it more difficult to find anything useful.
It is simplistic to say that we prioritise the most important information. In fact, good journalists are looking for the biggest story. Herein lies the danger because stories don't have to be true.
What makes a big story
- New and factual (it's news)
- Human element (how much will our audience care?)
- Scale and impact (how many died (for example) +
what effect does that have on our audience?) - Triggers a strong emotional response
- Dramatic
- Visual (good pictures but also stories that, in the telling, are easy to visualise)
- Quirky, surprising, downright weird
In practice, there is another, subtler element at play. We all deal with the randomness of life by trying to force things into categories or shapes. Sometimes information falls into a pattern and we think: "yes, I get that". It makes the world easier to deal with (particularly if the news is bad).
This week's tragedy at Ft Hood, Texas, is a good example of the phenomenon. Right from the start, the authorities were anxious to dampen speculation surrounding the fact that the shooter was a Muslim. Why did they do that? Because there is an instinctive, almost primeval, urge to fit the facts to a story. A big story. If he was a warrior for the forces of terrorism living secretly among us, that is a huge story that fits the big facts. And it is a story that is easy to retell.
The story fits the scale of the
events too well to resist
events too well to resist
But if he was a confused man, frightened of going back to war, that is a more muddled, smaller story. It does not seem to fit with the outrage of what he did. It is more difficult to see how the facts might lead to the consequences.
At the time of writing, it is impossible to know the truth. It could be either of these scenarios or something else entirely. However, it is already possible to see the first story forming in the pages of newspapers and on the web. There will be people who believe it, even if it turns out not to be true. The story fits the scale of the events too well to resist.
Brave journalists will, of course, go after the truth despite the enormous pressure to tell the story their readers want to read. Others will succumb and the truth will dissolve into a collective false memory.
The conflicting draws of truth and the story are understandable in reporting big, complex events. But too often, journalists are distracted from the truth in day-to-day reporting. That damages credibility.
For example, your readers may very well think that the diet of children today is so bad, it is surprising they don't get scurvy.
Does the story get precedence over the truth?
Everyone knows about scurvy because there is a story connected with it. It is caused by lack of vitamin C and is associated with the exploits of great explorers like Captain Cook. Any modern story including the word scurvy brings with it associations of dramatic deeds, romance, the smell of salt air. At a push, a writer could use one of those special words guaranteed to get a response from any audience: pirates.
So when the Daily Mail discovered that cases of childhood scurvy were on the increase, they may well have felt they had the dream story. Sick children, pirates, adventure. And above all, it fits with their readers' preconceptions.
But is it true?
There has been an increase in the number of children admitted to hospital with scurvy but:
- The increase is from 61 to 94 over three years. The numbers are so small (relative to the total number of sick children) that it is dangerous to draw conclusions.
- The Mail says straight out that it is due to poor diet, but there is no evidence for that. If you read past the bit about the pirates, the Mail quotes Ursula Arens of the British Dietetic Association -- the only person they talked to who is qualified to comment. She said: it was not possible to say how the children were getting scurvy: whether it was from a poor diet, or as a by-product of other diseases such as cancer.
- I am indebted to EvidenceMatters who points out that the figures could be explained by the increased survival rate of children with cancer or short gut syndrome. Scurvy can be a side effect of these diseases, and if fewer children die from them, then more will exhibit symptoms of scurvy.
There is a third option. Resist the urge of the great story altogether. Because the truth is there wasn't much of a story in the first place.
Pro journalism must stand out
If pro journalists want to have a job in the age of information overload, they need to play to their strengths.
This week a journalist told me he didn't have time to write better, and the BBC published a press release as news without any analysis or context.
It was also a week the Times gave us a completely one-sided story to suit its own purposes and the Guardian printed a profile whose angle was how difficult it is to write celebrity profiles.
Let's be clear: journalism is in crisis. The reasons are various but the scary thing is how many journalists seem determined to make things worse.
Rushed, badly written copy and regurgitated press releases seem to be symptoms of the internet age. We should have moved beyond sisyphean journalism where writers are driven to try and fill the web. But sadly, it is alive and well inside some publishing companies. Journalists are still given targets for quantity but not for quality.
I can just about understand it when you have ad reps who like to talk to clients about volumes and page impressions. But there seems to be no excuse for the BBC to be caught in this trap.
Biased reporting, lacking in authority, and me-me profile writing are old-school crap. But they seem to thrive online.
The days are gone when, if you worked on Pencil Sharpener Today magazine, your main competition was Pencil Sharpener World. Thanks to Google, you now compete with anyone who puts the words pencil sharpener prominently on their website. Among these will be some pretty talented amateur bloggers.
And the nature of the competition has changed too. Readers no longer decide between two print magazines and stick with their choice. If they care about a subject, they might look at 15 websites and the pro-journalist's will only be one of them. Having a brand is no longer enough to stand out from the crowd.
Bloggers have advantages over pro journos. Sometimes:
But few pros (at least few of those I talk to) seem to think about playing to the advantages they have over the amateurs:
When journalists create the crisis
This week a journalist told me he didn't have time to write better, and the BBC published a press release as news without any analysis or context.
It was also a week the Times gave us a completely one-sided story to suit its own purposes and the Guardian printed a profile whose angle was how difficult it is to write celebrity profiles.
Let's be clear: journalism is in crisis. The reasons are various but the scary thing is how many journalists seem determined to make things worse.
Some journalists seem driven to try and fill the web
Rushed, badly written copy and regurgitated press releases seem to be symptoms of the internet age. We should have moved beyond sisyphean journalism where writers are driven to try and fill the web. But sadly, it is alive and well inside some publishing companies. Journalists are still given targets for quantity but not for quality.
I can just about understand it when you have ad reps who like to talk to clients about volumes and page impressions. But there seems to be no excuse for the BBC to be caught in this trap.
Biased reporting, lacking in authority, and me-me profile writing are old-school crap. But they seem to thrive online.
The days are gone when, if you worked on Pencil Sharpener Today magazine, your main competition was Pencil Sharpener World. Thanks to Google, you now compete with anyone who puts the words pencil sharpener prominently on their website. Among these will be some pretty talented amateur bloggers.
And the nature of the competition has changed too. Readers no longer decide between two print magazines and stick with their choice. If they care about a subject, they might look at 15 websites and the pro-journalist's will only be one of them. Having a brand is no longer enough to stand out from the crowd.
Bloggers have advantages over pro journos. Sometimes:
- They react more quickly.
- They are more passionate about their subjects.
- They are more expert about their subjects.
- They tend to communicate in a more direct and personal way.
But few pros (at least few of those I talk to) seem to think about playing to the advantages they have over the amateurs:
- Better contacts.
- Access to authoritative sources.
- Better writing skills (if we concentrate).
- Cross-fertilisation within teams and across publications.
- Budgets for photography, freelances, illustrators (sometimes).
- Access to technology specialists (in theory we can create technically better websites; in practice many of us are having to use outdated CMSs and practice a form of warfare with the IT department).
When journalists create the crisis
- A highly researched story from the BBC and by coincidence, a similar press release from Morse. Surely there has been some mistake.
- A Telegraph story on car insurance whose only source was an insurance comparison website. Their source (PDF see editor's notes) is quoted as data analysis.
- Sunday Times libel tourism piece makes valid points but lacks authority or balance (and so weakens its case).
- I could write about John Cusack or I could make it all about me and how difficult I find it to write about John Cusack. This Guardian profile is fine but doesn't stand out from the noise because it focuses on the writer and his difficulties.
- I could sit and watch Twitter and then come up with an unexpected way of looking at things (because no-one else could do that). Another okay Guardian piece that doesn't stretch the reader.
- This story was entirely sourced using the internet -- feel free to shoot me down in flames.
- Apologies to journalists whose pieces I mention. Your were not the worst and they were by no means the only examples I could have chosen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
