Thoughtful Open Democracy piece by Charlie Beckett.

So we all have an interest in answering the question posed most acutely in the States: can the news media of a digital age enhance democracy?

The answer is that all around us we see that networking works. Networked Journalism works. This is the synthesis I set out in SuperMedia. It combines the technical capacity of mainstream media with much greater public participation in a thoroughly more open structural relationship between citizen and/as journalist. It is about the shift in journalism from a manufacturing to a service industry. It is a change in practice, from providing a product to acting as facilitators and connectors. It means an end to duplication and a focus on what value every bit of journalism production adds.

The SuperMedia version of Networked Journalism is a description of what is happening but also an aspiration that recognises that society (and especially media organisations) must invest resource and accept a shift in power. This model does not work well enough yet to replace the old business model of mainstream mass commercial media. That is a big worry at a time of immense economic stress. But perhaps the real task is not to ‘save’ old journalistic institutions. They worked best as a means of producing surplus value for shareholders rather than in providing social, economic and political benefits for people in the 21st century.

This is not to reject market forces. Quite the opposite. Online networking exposes journalists precisely and directly with what the public want and need. That is a good thing. Of course, there are market distortions such as the tendency for online communications to produce dominant brands in search, aggregation and distribution of information such as Google and the BBC. But even these mammoths are far more attuned to their consumers’ specific interests then the giants of mainstream media ever were.

That seems about right to me — 20th century mass media were mainly machines for churning out standardised products and enhancing shareholder value along the way. Sometimes, of course, they played an important role in the democratic process, but that was not their core business, any more than non-stick frying pans were the core business of the Apollo program. If journalism is to thrive in the new ecosystem then, as Beckett says, it has to make the shift “from a manufacturing to a service industry” and its practitioners will have to change from “providing a product to acting as facilitators and connectors”. My guess is that most journalists conditioned in the old ecosystem will find this an uncomfortable or downright impossible switch.

Beckett’s piece also reminds me of something that Steven Johnson said in his celebrated lecture, when he compared the quality of contemporary (highly networked) coverage of technology with the impoverished and meagre coverage provided within the old print-based system. In that sense, to adapt William Gibson’s trope, the future of new journalism is already here; it’s just not evenly distributed. And you have to know where to look for it.

Way back in 2006, William McKeen, chairman of the Department of Journalism at Florida State University, penned a nostalgic paen to serendipity — a phenomenon that he seemed to think was threatened by digital technology. Sample:

Serendipity is defined as the ability to make fortunate discoveries accidentally. There’s so much of modern life that makes it preferable to the vaunted good old days – better hygiene products and power steering leap to mind – but in these disposable days of now and the future, the concept of serendipity is endangered.

Think about the library. Do people browse anymore? We have become such a directed people. We can target what we want, thanks to the Internet. Put a couple of key words into a search engine and you find – with an irritating hit or miss here and there – exactly what you’re looking for. It’s efficient, but dull. You miss the time-consuming but enriching act of looking through shelves, of pulling down a book because the title interests you, or the binding. Inside, the book might be a loser, a waste of the effort and calories it took to remove it from its place and then return. Or it might be a dark chest of wonders, a life-changing first step into another world, something to lead your life down a path you didn’t know was there. Same thing goes with bookstores.

Steven Johnson isn’t having any of it. Here’s an excerpt from his spirited riposte.

I find these arguments completely infuriating. Do these people actually use the web? I find vastly more weird, unplanned stuff online than I ever did browsing the stacks as a grad student. Browsing the stacks is one of the most overrated and abused examples in the canon of things-we-used-to-do-that-were-so-much-better. (I love the whole idea of pulling down a book because you like the “binding.”) Thanks to the connective nature of hypertext, and the blogosphere’s exploratory hunger for finding new stuff, the web is the greatest serendipity engine in the history of culture. It is far, far easier to sit down in front of your browser and stumble across something completely brilliant but surprising than it is walking through a library looking at the spines of books. With music blogs and iTunes, I’ve discovered more interesting new bands and albums in the past year than I did in all of my college years. I know radio has gotten a lot worse, but really — does anyone actually believe that radio was ever more diverse and surprising in its recommendations than surfing through the iTunes catalog or the music sites? It’s no accident that BoingBoing is the most popular blog online — it’s popular because it’s an incredible randomizer, sending you off on all these crazy and unpredictable paths.

I mean, look at what’s on the front door of Kottke this morning: soccer jersey fonts, debate over travel time to JFK, best American fiction poll, funny t-shirt joke, new Google software, Richard Feynman video, Tufte design riff, etc. What’s the organizing principle? There is none — other than Jason’s quirky taste — and that’s precisely why so many of us visit his site every day. It takes me thirty seconds to make all those connections by reading Jason’s blog. I defy McKeen to walk into a library and find so many weird and diverse and interesting things in an hour of staring at bindings.

I’m with Johnson all the way on this one. And thanks to Lorcan Dempsey for the link to the discussion.

LATER: I should have known that Bill Thompson would have had something to say about this. And indeed he did — in May 2006 he wrote an excellent column about McKeen’s argument.

Succinct wisdom from Peter Feld about the proposition that putting out news free on the web cannibalises one’s print edition:

The flaw in the print person’s perspective is in thinking that there is any relation between your print audience and your web audience. There is none. You are not undercutting your print product by publishing a website because the people who you can reach online have almost no overlap with the people who you reach in print. Your print readers don’t want your website, and your web audience doesn’t. want. your. paper. (or magazine). (There’s a small overlap for whom that’s not true — many of whom are the mediavores who read articles like this one.) Audiences are more stratified by media habits than they are united by common interests.

So, you will not send people back to your paper by eliminating your website (though you’ll save the cost of operating a website — maybe that’s the real consideration) — you’ll send them to other websites. And if you do maintain a website with a prohibitively high paywall, to try to send people to print, you have the worst of both worlds: a website that costs money to maintain, and no audience or revenue.

The real error of print people is thinking that cost is a factor driving people from print to the web — as though people go to the web to save the price of a newspaper or magazine. Wrong. They go to your website because the web is where they hang out, and because they are hoping to find something that would be fresher than they could in a paper printed last night and filled with yesterday’s news.

Quentin pointed me at this terrific essay about the PR industry by Paul Graham. Sample:

PR is not dishonest. Not quite. In fact, the reason the best PR firms are so effective is precisely that they aren’t dishonest. They give reporters genuinely valuable information. A good PR firm won’t bug reporters just because the client tells them to; they’ve worked hard to build their credibility with reporters, and they don’t want to destroy it by feeding them mere propaganda.

If anyone is dishonest, it’s the reporters. The main reason PR firms exist is that reporters are lazy. Or, to put it more nicely, overworked. Really they ought to be out there digging up stories for themselves. But it's so tempting to sit in their offices and let PR firms bring the stories to them. After all, they know good PR firms won’t lie to them.

A good flatterer doesn’t lie, but tells his victim selective truths (what a nice color your eyes are). Good PR firms use the same strategy: they give reporters stories that are true, but whose truth favors their clients.

For example, our PR firm often pitched stories about how the Web let small merchants compete with big ones. This was perfectly true. But the reason reporters ended up writing stories about this particular truth, rather than some other one, was that small merchants were our target market, and we were paying the piper.

It’s a terrific article, full of uncomfortable insights (and often bringing up echoes of what Nick Davies found when researching his book, Flat Earth News). The peg for the piece was a spate of stories on the theme “The suits are back”. The general tenor of the meme was that it was no longer tech-chic to wear jeans and tee-shirts. (which of course is baloney.) Paul Graham did some detective work based on spotting common phrases in the various ‘suit’ stories and found that they all led back to the original client — an outfitter chain called The Men’s Wearhouse.