You’ve arrived at a blog about transforming the companies that publish newspapers. And it’s a blog with an unorthodox point of view.
Here it is: News will not save you.
Why not? Because the disruption that’s pounding newspaper companies is not about people Read the rest of this entry
Why did President Donald Trump dismiss FBI Director James Comey?
Why did Hillary Clinton operate a private email server when she was Secretary of State?
Why did FBI Director James Comey say the FBI wasn’t, and then was, continuing to investigate Clinton’s email practices?
What was Trump’s motive in announcing immigration bans on seven countries?
Those are just a few examples. Since the election, Washington’s superheated political atmosphere is producing new occasions every day that prompt legions of people to theorize about the motives of others.
Leading U.S. officials do their share of it. But reporters and commentators do even more. They’ve made an entire industry out of speculating about the motives of the politicos.
The most frequent target is President Trump. Certainly, he seems to do something every day or two that prompts the media and his opponents to see lurid motives.
And motives matter. But the problem is, we rarely know the motives that prompt people’s actions.
A lesson I learned
This constant motive-bashing sends me back to a lesson I learned when I first began writing editorials for the daily paper our family owned in Monroe, MI. It came back to me a couple of months ago, when I blogged about the importance of local editorials.
As part of my training in editorial-writing, the editor — my father, Grattan Gray — required me to tell him in advance what I planned to write about, and what conclusions I planned to reach.
Back then, the auto industry was Monroe’s biggest employer by far, and it was a time when the UAW was hammering the Big Three auto companies repeatedly with strikes for richer and richer contract terms.
One day I stepped into my dad’s office and told him I planned to write about how stupid United Auto Workers President Douglas Fraser was in making his latest contract demands.
I had minored in economics in college, so — at age 23 — I was pretty darn sure I knew Fraser’s position was bad for the economy and, ultimately, for auto workers and our town.
“Stop right there,” my dad said.
“I’ll tell you one thing for sure — Doug Fraser is not stupid.”
He said the problem was mine, not Fraser’s, if I didn’t know or understand the situation Fraser was in, and the combination of factors, pressures and reasons that would lead him to this proposal.
Debate the outcomes instead
Still, he said, the proposal might not be a good one, and I might be able to write an editorial about the reasons it would be harmful.
“But when you hear yourself say that somebody like Doug Fraser is stupid, you need to think again. You’re the one who’s being stupid.”
I went back to my desk stinging from the rebuke, and pretty sure that I deserved it.
I needed to do some careful thinking about what my dad had said. When I did, it changed forever the way I thought about the positions of people with whom I disagreed.
I came to realize that an important action by any normally intelligent person usually is motivated by a complex combination of factors. Many of those factors, and how they were balanced in the decision, are invisible to outsiders.
I came to understand and agree with my dad’s point. Any action, decision or policy can be debated in terms of its effects: its likely consequences, its fairness or unfairness, its cost, and so on.
That’s fair game, and this kind of debate is an important part of the public policy process.
But when you start guessing at the motives behind the decision — “If he did this, his motive must be that” — you are on shaky ground. It may be tempting to say the person is stupid, venal, dishonest or just plain evil. But it’s almost never that simple.
I won’t say it’s never right to speculate about why someone has done something. But it should always be done with care, and with the full awareness that you’re probably missing important elements.
At the Monroe Evening News, we had a hard rule that editorials should never speculate on someone’s motives. You could debate the wisdom and outcomes, and you could ask, in print or in person, for the individual to make his/her motives clear.
But you couldn’t simply offer your own theory about why Doug Fraser — or President Trump, for that matter, if he’d been in office back then — did what he did.
The Washington game — imputing motives
In today’s highly charged U.S. political atmosphere, imputing motives to others — and then attacking those imputed motives — is standard practice. Only once in a great while does a reporter or commentator acknowledge that we don’t really know why Trump or Comey or anyone else did what they did or said what they said.
There’s a side effect from attacking people’s supposed motives — it tends to cause the people on the other side of the issue, who see the motives differently, to dismiss your views out of hand.
Here’s the simple truth: The political climate we’re living and breathing today would be vastly improved if we could stick to debating the facts — actions, outcomes, fairness and so on — and leave the motives out of it.
The same principle applies in local editorials and news coverage. It even applies in inter-personal relationships.
I’ll put it in my dad’s blunt terms: When you attack someone’s unknown motives, you’re the one who’s being stupid.
Most Americans would agree that our country is more fiercely divided along political lines today — Democrat/Republican and liberal/conservative — than ever before in our lives.
Through the last two or three presidential elections, this divide seems to have become more and more bitter. In the 2016 race, it reached a fever pitch, which has shown no sign of abating since the election of Donald Trump.
Powerful local advocacy is essential to your news brand
As the relentless decline in ad revenues empties more and more newsroom desks, there’s been a little-noted side effect: Waning commitment to locally written editorials.
Nobody seems to be noticing, and that’s a shame. In this and probably a future post, I intend to make the case for strong local opinion-writing as a key element of community journalism.
In the local media business, we like to think that our brand has immense value. I believe the thoughtfulness and impact of our editorials plays a huge part in creating that value. Read the rest of this entry
Last time I blogged about a fairly simple but powerful “Big J” journalism project we did years ago in my hometown, shaking up the judicial system in a very positive way.
Here’s another “Big J” project we did back then. It can be done in any community, and it will reveal very interesting things about who has and wields power in the community. Read further to learn how, and to see clippings of the stories we produced.
It started in 1992, when I was editor of my family’s newspaper in Monroe, Mich. At the time, I was doing some serious thinking about the local power structure. Read the rest of this entry
It’s an article of faith in the local media business: High-quality content is our trump card in the high-stakes business of attracting and monetizing digital audiences.
But how much of that high-quality content do we really produce? And how much of it really has the huge audience pulling-power we need?
It’s the same answer for both questions: Not nearly enough. Read the rest of this entry
Yeah, sure — Big Data. We get it, right?
We all know that the digital age is producing huge amounts of data about consumers and their behavior. And, sure, we know that anybody who’s in the marketing and advertising business — like local media companies — needs to get good at it. Right?
Not that we’ve quite learned how to do it yet. But surely we know — don’t we? — that we simply must master it to benefit both ourselves and our customers? And we’re working on it, right?
Well, I am. I hope you are, too.
Why? Because somebody is going to bring Big Data to Main Street. If it’s not us, Big Data will be the next big wave of disruption in our advertising and marketing business. It’s guaranteed to whittle down our local media ad revenues still further. Read the rest of this entry
Ah, real estate. It used to be such a wonderfully profitable sweet spot for newspapers, back in the dear, now-dead days before the Web. And now it’s just a shadow of its former self.
The real estate business itself is doing okay these days, although it always has its ups and downs. It’s print real estate advertising in newspapers that’s been deeply and permanently disrupted.
The question I’m trying to answer these days is, isn’t there another model through which local media companies can play key roles in the real estate market? Read the rest of this entry
And the industry has seen some notable successes. Jason Taylor’s energetic advocacy has lit up many a convention stage since he started as president of the Chattanooga Time Free Press in 2007. And Brent Low, CEO of Utah Media Group in Salt Lake City, has made events a cornerstone of his diversified revenue model since he was publisher in St. George, Utah, more than a decade ago. Read the rest of this entry
Data, data, data. From every direction lately, I’m being hit with urgent reminders about the imperative for local media companies to master data.
Every day, I’m more convinced: This is the next wave of threat — or opportunity — for local media companies. That’s how disruptive innovation works — you either grab the opportunity, or you are overrun by it.
As Big Data marches down upon us, I’m reminded of Longfellow’s poem, “The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere.” It tells how, on the eve of the American Revolution, patriots gave warning of the British Army’s advance by hanging lanterns in the belfry of Boston’s Old North Church:
“One if by land, two if by sea.”
I’m hanging out three lanterns. Big Data is bearing down on us right now — by land, by sea and from every other direction. Read the rest of this entry
In the fall of 2006, as the Internet was devastating the newspaper industry in earnest, the American Press Institute unveiled a new program to push back against the disruption.
We called the project Newspaper Next, and its first report was called Blueprint for Transformation.
Ten years later, what did it accomplish? And what should we still remember from that body of work? Read the rest of this entry