What’s become of The Times & Co.?

I do wonder what the hell is happening at these newspapers, for it has been — to use Silver’s word — disturbing. I won’t try to catalog all their lapses, sins, and offenses here, for I do that every day now, lately using the hashtags #BrokenTimes, #BrokenPost, and #MurdochJournal to aid in gathering them. The symptoms are self-evident: bothsidesing asymmetry into false balance, normalizing extremism, sane-washing — or worse, ignoring —  Trump’s obvious debilitation, downplaying the imminent peril of fascism, putting themselves at the center of this story over the people most at risk, and most recently completely missing what I think could be the biggest political story in a century: the rise of a grand coalition to save democracy. I could go on. I do go on, day after day, so much that I dread opening the pages of these publications most mornings. 

Are there exceptions? Absolutely, there are. There is still excellent journalism coming out of these newsrooms (and I will try to label examples of that with the hashtags #GoodTimes and #GoodPost). That there are many experienced and caring reporters in these places is what makes this discussion worth having. 

I even see some caring journalists share public criticism of the state of news in subtle subtweets or what can appear to be hostage videos, given that they are muzzled by newsroom rules against self-criticism of their companies. Since the ombudsman has been made extinct in those newsrooms, I very much value these perspectives. 

What I do not know is why all this has been happening. I have no inside knowledge. Even so, we need to discuss possible causes to have any sense of how we got here and what — if anything — might be done about it. Either that or we decide that it is too late, that we must abandon these incumbent institutions and move to replace them. 

One theory I keep coming back to is one that Jay Rosen first posited in 2018, examining the impact of an important shift in the economics of The Times from majority support by advertising to majority support from subscribers. “The readers of the New York Times have more power now,” he observed. 

One might think that should mean The Times would not want to peeve its readers — though it incessantly does. As Jay also noted, “One of the joys of having a subscription to the Times is threatening to cancel it.” Wouldn’t management do everything to avert cancelation? Yet the opposite is occuring: The Times practically dares its readers to leave. Why? 

An old journalism trope has it that if you anger both sides of a story, you must be doing something right. (Nevermind that you might also have so screwed up the story that everyone can see it.) But that’s not what’s happening here. That, too, is too simple a thesis.

I have another interpretation: The sixth-generation Times publisher, A.G. Sulzberger, has lately replaced the often-claimed standard of journalistic “objectivity” with his call for “independence.” But independent of whom? Not advertisers anymore; neither political parties nor governments. I theorize he is trying to prove his paper’s independence from its own readers and liberals — who, as I’ve said, happen to be the same people. Pissing them off might be The Times’ way of saying: You don’t own us. 

If The Times can argue that it is not a liberal newspaper and can present voluminous bona fides (see the evidence at #BrokenTimes), then its publisher and editors think they are immunized from criticism, whether from journalism professors or MAGA politicians. 

Another theory holds that to be a liberal newspaper is bad for business, driving away half the market. That argument might have been valid in the day of monopoly metro newspapers, but for these national publications, it’s sophistry. We know full well that Murdoch acolytes watching Fox News are not and never will become Times readers. In this post, I quote Marty Baron’s memoirs, in which he reported that “by the fall of 2018, the percentage of our digital subscribers who considered themselves somewhat or very conservative was in the single digits, with slightly more than 80 percent ‘very’ or ‘somewhat’ liberal.” He seemed to lament that he couldn’t win over conservative readers. I suggested he should have seen this data as a gift: By knowing the community one is serving, one knows how to better serve them. That does not mean pandering to their beliefs. It just means the newsroom — and especially the editorial page and its columnists — can stop trying to suck up to right-wing extremists. 

I have another theory altogether, one that has been animating my work in the last decade. It’s about the death of the mass media business model, with it mass media, and with it the idea of the mass. That was the book I set out to write that became The Gutenberg Parenthesis. I had begun to write about sociological theories of the mass but decided I wasn’t ready (it became the kernel of a chapter in Gutenberg entitled “Death to the Mass”). I realized I needed to examine the origins of the mass, which meant studying the birth of print. Hello, Gutenberg. 

I next wrote Magazine a small (and fun) book about the long century of the magazine as a way to explore the arc of the long century of mass media. I’m now writing a book called Hot Type about the Linotype and the mechanization and industrialization of print it heralded — and thus the dawn of mass media.

Today we come to the dusk of mass media (that’s the next book I want to work on). Its assassin is the internet, which enables any and all to publish to the world, obliterating mass media’s control over the scarcities of voice in the culture, and robbing publishers — in their perspective — of the pricing power they held over those who wanted to reach the mass, whom publishers and broadcasters thought they could own. 

That, I think, could be one cause of what we are seeing happen in The Times, The Post, The Journal, network news, and other national news media. They cannot stop believing it is their mission, even their birthright, to serve and sell to everyone — the mass — when everyone now has more choices to go to. They hate that they no longer control access to audience, attention, authority — and advertising — and resent their replacement by digital startups, bloggers, social media, so-called influencers, the technology companies that enable them, and the masses themselves. 

Ironically, I believe that the overarching story mass media are failing to cover at all adequately — the rise of American fascism in the body of white, christian nationalism — is fueled by the Trumpists’ explicit fear of “replacement.” Trump’s insurrectionists would sooner burn the fields than share the nation’s bounty with those who have built it. 

The reaction inside journalism is not insurrection. It is the opposite: defensiveness, circled wagons, retrenchment, refusing to hear or dismissing criticism and denigrating critics, and finding others to blame for their problems — often, the internet. 

I address that in my new book out next month, The Web We Weave. I began the book intending to write a defense of internet freedoms, but it became a critique of media’s moral panic over the internet and the impact that is having on those freedoms. News institutions as companies never acknowledge their own conflict of interest in covering what they see as a new competitors on the net.

I see a much larger problem at work: Journalists and news executives — and I include myself in this critique — were never equipped with the tools of theory and history to inform self-reflection on our field and to imagine alternative means and models of serving our publics. 

This is why I hold that simply teaching the craft and skills of journalism in journalism schools is wholly inadequate to the profound challenges in our field. Journalists see themselves as producers of the commodity they call content and they define their value according to their roles in that process of manufacture. They would be better served to also learn from the disciplines of media studies, communication, history, sociology, ethics, and others — empowering them to reimagine and reform our field. 

When I started teaching journalism myself as a mere practitioner in 2006, I tried to learn from the example of my actual academic friend and mentor, Dr. Rosen, whom I often witnessed standing back from any phenomenon in our discipline to abstract: to ask what is really happening here, and then to examine the implications of the possible answers. I wanted my students to be able to do that as they embarked on careers in a field undergoing profound change, and so I wanted to teach them the theory, history, and economics of journalism (and was given an ever-shrinking timeslot to do so). Of course, that meant I needed to study that myself — thus the many books. 

That is what brings me to ask what the hell is happening at The Times, The Post, et al. I do not have an answer, only evidence to gather, abstractions to ponder, theories to explore. I wish to examine these issues with others who are puzzled, disturbed, and disappointed about what they, too, see coming from these institutions … and we are many.

Can these institutions improve? Only if they recognize the need to. Can they be replaced? Yes, but we cannot yet know with what. 

I often pull this thick book from my shelf: a directory of every American newspaper in 1900. 

The year 1900 was just a decade past the introduction of the last machine needed to complete the industrialization of media (the Linotype — thus my interest in it), and a half century past when the average circulation of a daily newspaper in the country was only 4,000. New York boasted scores of publications serving what we would now think of as market niches — e.g., Finnish sailors — but should instead see as communities. By the turn of the last century, circulations were already rising into the hundreds of thousands, soon to be millions. Mass media were rising. 

The value of studying the history of media is that we can learn from alternatives in the past to which we may return: smaller publications at a human scale, serving communities rather than that imagined mass. 

That vision of post-mass media profoundly frightens large, national news organizations with their business models built on the goal of selling content to everyone. It also disturbs the proprietors of incumbent local media, now controlled by the hedge funds that are hiring lobbyists to cash in their political capital for protectionist legislation to benefit them over their new competitors. 

The Sulzbergers fashion themselves protectors of The Times and, indeed, for generations, they have been. Now The Times needs further protection from the institution’s own reflexes. The Post has been handed over to Murdoch executives and I fear for it. Murdoch himself is trying to exclude his own children from shifting his empire away from his odious, extremist mission. Sinclair stands ready to do the extremists’ bidding. Hedge funds have denuded local news. It is all ominous for the future of what was journalism. And the Financial Times just reported that Leonard Leo, who has bought our Supreme Court, is planning to buy local news media. We are warned. 

I cannot tell you what is happening to The Times, The Post, and the rest of incumbent national news media, but I know something is and it worries me. They refuse to acknowledge or reflect on this change, so others must, in the context of history, with the larger mission and role of journalism in mind, and with the hope still that something can be done. 

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