My first reaction upon reading today’s old-vs.-new media tussle between Ron Rosenbaum and Jeff Jarvis was to wonder “can’t we all get along?” A tiresome sentiment, I know. But is it any more so than replaying the arguments that these two heavy-hitters bring to the endless circular discussion about 21st century journalism?

Shorter Rosenbaum: Jarvis is cruel to those traditional journalists and old media outlets getting hammered by job and budget cuts. Jarvis ignores what they bring to the table -  reporting on real life events – while focusing on the new forms journalism should take. And his self-regard has become unbearable.

Shorter Jarvis: I’m just telling it like it is: if traditional journalists don’t stop whining and adapt to a rapidly changing environment, they’re doomed. And I’m not unbearable; the truth hurts. Nyah.

Rosenbaum is his typically entertaining self: Jarvis’s oracular pronouncements and descriptions of his jet-setting do sometimes verge on self-parody. But I think Jarvis is, on the whole, correct: radical innovation is the only way forward for journalism, and is incredibly promising. Whining about the bygone days (five years ago!) of newspapers and magazines may provide a necessary emotional outlet, but it’s a huge waste of energy and a distraction from the challenges at hand.

But Rosenbaum does identify a weakness that runs through the pronouncements of many a new media guru: the obsession with, and fetishization of, technology and new forms. That’s good as far as it goes, but it’s still not clear what truly great post-dead tree journalism looks like. Oh, there are more and more examples out there – TPM, Spot.us, Grist.org – that combine reporting with technology, Internet, and social networks in compelling ways. And examples of the big media outlets adapting, such as the Washington Post’s decision to include blogger Chris Cillizza as part of its incoming White House team.

However, there’s a certain chicken-or-the-egg factor here. Do emerging technology and the social changes that follow from it naturally beget quality journalism (if you build it, they – journalists and readers – will come)? Or is there a risk that if you focus on technology and the changing relationship between the journalist and the news consumer, the fundamentals get lost in the shuffle? This is a problem at many newspapers, which in their relentless race to cut back and innovate simultaneously are literally trading journalism talent and experience for technical expertise.

The focus on technology, form, and social networking is a big part of the puzzle. But content should be given its due. What are the problems – in communities, the nation, the world – that deserve investigation and exposure with these wondrous new tools?

From 11/7/08:

THIS IS THE FINAL REPORT OF NEWHOUSE NEWS SERVICE

THE MISSION OF THE NEWS SERVICE HAS BEEN TO PUT THE FINEST JOURNALISM IN FRONT OF AS MANY EYES AS POSSIBLE. FOR NEARLY HALF A CENTURY, WE HAVE DONE OUR BEST TO PROVIDE YOU WITH ARTICLES THAT INFORM, EDIFY, EXCITE AND AMUSE YOUR READERS. WE BID FAREWELL WITH THE WISH THAT THE NEWS BUSINESS WILL BE KIND TO YOUR PUBLICATION AND ITS HARD-STRIVING EMPLOYEES.

I’m sure I’ll have more to say about the incipient Obama administration going forward. In the meantime, a side note about newspapers. It was a banner day for the traditionalists: Many papers had to do midday press runs because their dead-tree editions sold out. (I was lucky to find a non-empty Washington Post box near my gym and picked up a copy. Now I have to keep it forever?)

One observation: historic newspaper headlines announcing an election result or other event were straight declarations. Think: NIXON RESIGNS, MEN WALK ON MOON, et al. This is what made them, well, historic. They concisely described the moment.

But today it’s different. Most people picking up a paper the day after something big happens already know all about it. When I got my paper, I had already watched election results the night before on TV, read news websites and political blogs. So the hard news headline is no longer needed. Meanwhile, newspaper design is also becoming flashier, more photo-heavy, the headlines bigger – and shorter.

So instead of the declaration of history — OBAMA ELECTED PRESIDENT — today’s headlines were impressionistic:

* • “Yes We Can.” (The Record of Stockton, Calif.)
* • “Change Comes to America.” (Canada’s The Hamilton Spectator)
* • “Change of Course.” (Athens (Ga.) Banner-Herald)
* • “Face of Change.” (Omaha (Neb.) World-Herald)
* • “A New Hope.” (Iowa City Press-Citizen)
* • “In Our Lifetime,” declared The Anniston (Ala.) Star.
* • “Obama Overcomes,” said The Tuscaloosa (Ala.) News.
* • “Race is History,” The Beaumont (Texas) Enterprise offered.
* • “Obama Reaches The Mountaintop,” said The Star-Ledger of Newark, N.J.
* • “Obama!” (The Patriot-News of Harrisburg, Pa.)
* • “Oh-Bama! (The Orange County (Calif.) Register
* • “Mr. President.” (The Chicago Sun-Times)
* • “It’s Obama.” (La Tribune of Paris, France)

What does this mean, other than that today’s newspapers are like yesterday’s magazines? It’s sort of paradoxical. People seek commemorative editions because they are, of course, physical objects, and they distill something of the day that a web page, changing every 15 minutes, can’t. At the same time, though, because papers no longer have a monopoly on information and are desperate to grab attention any way they can, the headlines (and in many papers, much of the content as well) are softer, less matter-of-fact, less “serious.” When we look back on these headlines in 40 years, it’s hard not to think they’ll show more about the steady fading away of the paper edition than the historic event they record.

Is there any job in American journalism hurtling toward obsolescence faster than that of the ombudsman, the “readers’ representative” who mediates between the myriad comments/complaints/suggestions of readers and the management of the paper?

With the collapse of the newspaper business model, many papers have eliminated this position. That’s probably a good thing. Not long ago, I felt differently: newspapers are traditionally opaque institutions that call other people to account, but are reluctant to acknowledge their own mistakes. Good to have an in-house critic who could get answers from the publisher, from editors and reporters. But with the rise of countless online sources of media criticism and the migration of newspapers online, the ombudsman’s function is becoming redundant. Newspapers are starting to open up and join the conversation; those who go into a defensive crouch when they make a mistake do themselves no favors.

And the ombudsmen still on the job seem increasingly caught betwixt the giant forces grinding down and transforming newspapers and the conventions still holding them back. In today’s New York Times, for example, public editor Clark Hoyt goes to great lengths trying to wave reporters off prematurely calling the election for Obama:

There are only two days left until the next president is elected. I think The Times would be wise, in the words of my former colleague Tom Fiedler, dean of the College of Communication at Boston University, to “forgo the temptation of the horse race” and focus on issues and what the candidates are saying. That is just what the paper did Thursday, with articles on their positions on student loans and summarizing their final stump speeches.

He’s right that it’s silly to write articles saying “it’s over” before it’s over. And I’m no fan of horse race coverage, with its endless focus on what might happen weeks or months in advance. But it’s different now: The horses are very close to the finish line. It would be ridiculous for reporters to ignore that one of them is ahead by a length. That reality shapes everything, from campaign decisions to voter behavior itself. In making the most predictable of all ombudsmanic pronouncements – cover the issues – Hoyt dispenses the strangest kind of journalistic advice: Cover your eyes! Ignore the facts!

And let’s face it: Obama is very likely to win. The odds of an election-night shocker are quite small. If you want an example, look at the indispensable 538.com, which runs 10,000 computer simulations every day incorporating the latest polling results, taking into account polls and election results going back to 1952. As of tonight, 538 gives McCain a 6.3 percent chance of victory. That’s not zero, of course, and the vote could turn out to be a black swan – that totally unanticipated outcome. But that must be weighed appropriately against the preponderance of the evidence.

Moreover, the cautionary examples Hoyt uses – the recent Rams upset of the Redskins and Hillary Clinton’s surprise victory in the New Hampshire primary – are weak analogies to a national election. A football game is not an election at all. And the New Hampshire primary had a small and volatile pool of voters. It’s a bobbing cork compared to the aircraft carrier of a national election campaign that, in spite of its drama, has not been close for weeks.

Update: 538.com crunched the numbers again overnight and now gives McCain a 3.7 percent chance of winning.

The Newark Star-Ledger‘s financial troubles are obviously profound. It’s a daily newspaper in a poor, chronically troubled city – what more do you need to know? But things took a truly alarming turn when the Star-Ledger’s owner, Newhouse-owned Advance Publications, announced in July it would either sell or shut down the paper if it didn’t achieve the cutbacks it deemed necessary through buyouts and significant union concessions. This week, the Newhouses reiterated that they’re dead serious:

Is it a negotiation tactic, or real?

That’s what Media Mob asked Advance publications president Donald Newhouse today regarding the memo that Star-Ledger publisher George Arwady sent out to staff saying that if a drivers union didn’t agree to a new contract, the paper would be in danger of closing.

“That’s what we’ve told our employees and we do not bluff or lie,” he responded.

This is one scary game of chicken. It’s not clear there is a potential buyer for the Star-Ledger, so there is a not-insignificant chance the venerable paper – Tony Soprano’s paper! – may be shuttered come January. Of course, if I had to put money on it, I’d bet that it won’t come to pass – the unions will make concessions, or a buyer will come forward – or perhaps the Newhouses are, in fact, bluffing.

But the closure scenario is extraordinary. Through endless rounds of newspaper downsizing, it still seemed unthinkable that a major daily would actually shut down. No longer. And ponder the implications of a newspaper-less city. Dailies are part of the civic glue that make American cities …. American. They hold institutions accountable. They provide essential information about what’s happening in the business, arts and NGO communities, and the city’s connection to the state government and Washington. Their columnists, if they’re good, can become a voice for the city itself. Without all that, what happens?

Does Newark even have an alt-weekly? Not according to these lists. That means just local TV, radio – and bloggers – regularly covering the city council, the mayor, and agencies in a city of 300,000. And that doesn’t include the sprawling suburban areas also in the S-L’s circulation area that would also lose coverage – and an important source of local information. Many have their own local papers, but most of those don’t have the regional perspective of a major daily.

With a deep recession looming, things are going to keep getting worse for the newspaper industry. Even if the Star-Ledger stays afloat (and surely the Newhouses don’t want to be the first owners to kill a major American daily), other papers may well go under in the coming months and years. And we’ll have to think harder about the implications of the newspaper-less city.

Expanding on one point in my Prospect piece:

The faux-objective style of the traditional newspaper is increasingly useless in a political landscape in which spin has leeched from campaigns into every aspect of politics and policy. The result: the prestige beats in Washington — campaigns and the White House — are increasingly detached from reality. The coverage tends to be impressionistic and insidery, a weird mash-up of Maureen Dowd, Karl Rove, Drudge, and cable news. And it has almost nothing to do with the day-to-day concerns of most people or the functioning of government itself.

It’s obvious to anyone watching cable that campaign coverage is its own universe, operating by its own internal rules, obsessed most of the time with hour-by-hour tactical advantage and hot-button cultural trivia. Not even hot button issues that matter, like abortion or affirmative action or the place of religion in the public square, but questions like Obama’s lipstick-on-a-pig comment. But has this same trend also shaped coverage of the White House and other more substantive government beats? I’d say yes.

With the Clinton psychodramas, one man’s personal failings became the stuff of right-wing obsession, and an impeachment effort that ignored the more judicious views of the public. The Drudge era began, and the media realized there was a reliable source of ratings gold in the mashup of the trivial and the presidential.

Later, with the runup the Iraq war, most of the media fell in line behind a series of spurious ideas: that Saddam Hussein was a strategic threat to the United States, that he had WMDs and was ready to use them, and that Rumsfeld, who deplored nation-building, could successfully manage the invasion’s aftermath. Meanwhile, as the Bush administration actively sought to delegitimize the “media filter” and pursued various radical projects – torture, the unitary executive, the surveillance state – the media reacted with caution and uncertainty. (There are, of course, exceptions to this – McClatchy, or the Gellman/Becker Cheney series, now a book.)

In a nutshell, both political institutions and media institutions behaved very badly, and neither has really recognized the problem, let alone done much work to acknowledge and recover from the inevitable loss of credibility. Most of the traditional media – the big papers, the networks – still go about their business as if they were still institutions commanding unparalleled respect and credibility, in part because they believe they are covering institutions that also have unparalleled respect and credibility. Today, after Iraq, Katrina, and the banking debacle, they don’t. You can sense this dissonance in many newspaper stories on the White House, which are infused with a kind of awe and written in the staid language of a bygone era.

I have a piece up on the American Prospect site on the demise of a venerable institution: the newspaper Washington bureau. I’ve read a lot of these pieces, which invariably lament the passing of an era, the threat to democracy, the human capital sucked out of the journalism world. All true. The problem is, though, that we’ve known for some time now that the traditional newspaper structure, including the Washington bureau, is doomed. Newspapers should have started thinking about this a decade ago, when the technology became available to blog, to post various forms of digital content, to tap into social networking. But they didn’t. Instead, they hung on, hoping to ride out the changes.

Meanwhile, the whole political-media ecosystem was buffeted by various political/social events. The Bush administration treated it with contempt. Cable news and Drudge drove political coverage, rewarding fluff and cultural hot buttons over the actual business of government.

The result: the whole Washington media infrastructure – bureaus, beats, and Broders – is in upheaval. What will replace it? A fascinating question.

I’m going to immediately contradict my criticism in the previous post and note that, despite their flaws, newspapers are driving the anthrax story. At the moment, only papers have the wherewithal – the combination of experience and smarts, contacts within the law enforcement and bioterrorism prevention establishment, and the resources required – to assemble this kind of complicated story, fast. In addition, the form the “story” itself doesn’t benefit from the Internet’s inevitable fragmentation, but from aggregation – putting everything together into a comprehensible form. Not necessarily a single narrative (though I’d like to see that) but a form that still lays it all out.

Scoop-driven network TV news isn’t going to do it. New online outlets such as ProPublica might be able to, but there aren’t many of them. Blogs and social media are at a disadvantage negotiating this kind of secretive, highly specialized milieu.

As newspapers implode and inevitably shed investigative capacity, it’s going to be harder for them to mount this kind of effort. We need to cultivate the kind of talent and narrative forms required to replace that in the new media universe.

It’s both interesting and chilling to watch the story of Bruce Ivins, the FBI’s anthrax suspect who committed suicide last week, unfold bit by bit in the media. The problem is, right now all we have are fragments, at-times contradictory little pieces of a complex narrative involving even-more complex science, Ivins’ personal foibles, the FBI’s own troubled record on the case, and the ways the anthrax attacks were purposely associated with the Iraq war buildup in the media and public consciousnesses.

So we get a fascinating, but fractured and contradictory portrait of Ivins as a dutiful, colorless federal employee, a community-minded volunteer – but also as someone with possibly perverse designs on money or professional recognition and success, who was decidedly unbalanced, whom a psychotherapist called “homicidal” and a “sociopath” and who routinely made death threats. Another wrinkle: the local paper published Ivins’s letters to the editor in which he comes off as a hardline conservative Catholic with political views to match. The central question here is, was Ivins driven to madness by the FBI closing in, or did his psychological problems predate the later stages of the investigation and relate to the deeds in question?

At this stage is we don’t know enough yet to answer that. And in the meantime, everybody’s bidding to control the narrative, and competing agendas are playing out under the surface of the stories. Because of confidentiality commitments, “objectivity” rules and the like, sometimes the media doesn’t advance the story but muddles it. Take this Washington Post story today, headlined “Scientists Question FBI Probe on Anthrax: Ivins Could Not Have Been Attacker, Some Say.”

But the “scientists” of the headline have an obvious interest in Ivins’ supposed innocence. He was their friend and colleague. The reputation of their lab is on the line, and to some extent their own professional and personal judgment. The FBI, meanwhile, thinks Ivins was their man, and has evidence to that effect. But of course, after hounding Steven Hatfill, it’s trying to restore its own reputation.

So the story veers back and forth:

One bioweapons expert familiar with the FBI investigation said Ivins indeed possessed the skills needed to create the dust-fine powder used in the attacks. At the Army lab where he worked, Ivins specialized in making sophisticated preparations of anthrax bacteria spores for use in animal tests, said the expert, who requested anonymity because the investigation remains active.

Ivins’s daily routine included the use of processes and equipment the anthrax terrorist likely used in making his weapons. He also is known to have had ready access to the specific strain of Bacillus anthracis used in the attack — a strain found to match samples found in Ivins’s lab, he said.

“You could make it in a week,” the expert said. “And you could leave USAMRIID with nothing more than a couple of vials. Bear in mind, they weren’t exactly doing body searches of scientists back then.”

Who is this expert? S/he is “familiar with the FBI investigation.” I take that to mean s/he’s with the FBI or worked with it in some capacity, and that this reflects the FBI line. But the paper can’t come out and say that. So is this a credible expert view or an FBI view, or both, or neither?

Then this:

“USAMRIID doesn’t deal with powdered anthrax,” said Richard O. Spertzel, a former biodefense scientist who worked with Ivins at the Army lab. “I don’t think there’s anyone there who would have the foggiest idea how to do it. You would need to have the opportunity, the capability and the motivation, and he didn’t possess any of those.”

Which is it? Obviously, the reporters couldn’t resolve this contradiction before their deadline. I empathize. But I wonder whether this story should have run at all, since it essentially tells us nothing.

The doom and gloom here seems over-the-top, no?

When historians get around to 2008, it’s likely they will say it was the year the Los Angeles Times died. No, I don’t think the paper will fold between now and December. But I do fear the paper will be so diminished, so crippled, that the chance of saving it will have slipped away.

I agree that indiscriminately slashing the LATimes’s staff and budget will, inevitably, degrade its quality. (Though given its traditional bureaucratic loginess, cutting and reorganization are not automatically bad things.)

But like most papers, the LAT is more than a bunch of journalists and a building, it’s an institution and a brand. Those will endure in some form or another. Once Sam Zell has wrung all he can out of them, his successors will want to do something with what’s left. Los Angeles is a large metro area. It has a big industry and a vibrant cultural life for a news organization to tap into. The LAT won’t die – and it will be back in a new form, perhaps a better one. It just won’t be the 1990s-era Times. That is, indeed, dying.

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