Saying “these are tough times for journalism” is sort of like saying “these are tough times for farmers.” It’s not a new phenomenon. In terms of the financial challenges facing our industry, I feel like it’s been this way my whole career. Each year brings the promise of a successful transformation from the print dinosaur to the nimble, digitally viable model we need, but we watch those developments with a wary eye on the hourglass rapidly emptying of sand. Will we find the magic bullet before time runs out? It’s a question we were asking 10 years ago. No new news here.
But at a political level, “these are tough times for journalism” is a new development, as a worldwide wave of populism emboldens authoritarian governments to take increasingly belligerent steps to muzzle the press. We see it in places like Russia, Turkey, Hungary and the Philippines, where reporters put their lives at risk to do their jobs. Even in the United States, with its First Amendment guaranteeing press freedoms, populists and nationalists find an easy target in the news media, often invoking violent rhetoric to rile up their supporters. This is new.
In the face of not one but two existential threats, journalists continue to work their craft, going about their business as they’ve always done. Yes, the platforms and presentation options are expanding, but at the end of the day, it’s about gathering the news and telling the story of what you’ve learned. I might even argue that the current environment has strengthened the quality. The lack of resources forces difficult decisions on what news organizations do and don’t cover. Any pushback from a police department, school board or state agency only makes the decision easier — they’re going to go after them. Today’s leaner newsrooms are, by necessity, more focused. The volume may be down, but the stories they’ve chosen to pursue and publish represent a greater investment of their total resources. Do fewer stories better, goes the mantra. When a newsroom like mine had 60-70 journalists at its disposal, it could afford a few misses among the hits. No more.
The foundation of quality journalism today rests on two tenets: Lower frequency, higher impact. Some may not agree with that characterization, but it’s a reflection of the realities facing the industry. For those of us who still believe in journalism and can live with this, there’s plenty of quality work out there. Here’s a sample of the best I’ve seen in 2019:
“Fight the Ship: Death and valor on a warship doomed by its own Navy” (ProPublica). A U.S. Navy destroyer’s collision with a massive cargo ship in the South China Sea raised serious questions over the proficiency and readiness of our sea forces. How it happened is a complicated story, and ProPublica’s animated graphics are a critical part of the presentation, visually outlining spatial relationships within and around the ship in a way that words can’t. As for the text, the sourcing is exhaustive, the unfolding of events riveting and the conclusions alarming.
“America’s rural radio stations are vanishing — and taking the country’s soul with them” (The Guardian). Fighting foreclosure and disconnect notices in the Arizona desert, KHIL’s Mark Lucke stubbornly holds out in a landscape dominated by corporate radio. While the story looks broadly at what the demise of local radio means to a community’s identity, it’s also a personal portrait of a man driven by a musical mission. A perennial outcast, Lucke turns to music as a way of dispensing demons and connecting with the world, and he’ll seemingly sacrifice everything he has to see that mission through.
“A Sand County Photograph: The Baraboo Nazi prom photo shocked the world. The city’s response shocked its residents” (Buzzfeed). When Baraboo High School students raised their arms in a Nazi salute for a prom photo, it was initially explained as a “brain fart” prompt by the photographer. But amid the heightened racial politics of the Trump era and a social media environment attuned to instant outrage, the students, school district and city quickly found themselves at the center of a maelstrom that has shaken the community to its core. Through Joseph Bernstein’s lengthy exposition, the circumstances behind the photo and reaction by local officials follow an extremely complicated path that’s beyond the grasp of the simple and universal condemnation (or exoneration) that Facebook and Twitter feeds demand.
“The lonesome death of Ethan Hauschultz” (USA TODAY NETWORK-Wisconsin). Full disclaimer: I work for this organization, but I was not involved with this project. Colleague Doug Schneider delivers a gut-wrenching investigative report into the death of a 7-year-old boy who succumbed to brutal punishments doled out by his 15-year-old brother, on the orders of their adoptive father. After an introduction so descriptive it can be difficult to read, the story of how the boy came to be placed in the care of a man with a history of abuse and violence is one of maddening bureaucratic failure.
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