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It’s amazing isn’t it? How something so simple can be so fundamental.
In a digital world I think there is something powerful, almost physical, about being able to add a link ‘the old fashioned way – typing it in longhand. It bypasses the uncritical. Subverts the automated. It offers time to reflect. And in that it creates value.
If you understand the value of a hyperlink, you understand the value of a connection.
Like many in the media industry I’ve been confronted with a wall of coverage around Peter Oborne’s resignation from the Telegraph. I read his piece when it came out but have sat on my thoughts. That’s mainly because I can trust to those better qualified than me to debate the meat of his criticism – the undue influence of advertisers, which others have developed to also include the influence of proprietors.
But the bit that I’ve been chewing on for the last few days was the first part of Oborne’s resignation piece – the bit I’ll call the ‘don’t forget the print edition bit’
When I first wrote that par it was the ‘ I don’t like digital bit’, but I realize that’s not fair. He’s pro-paper. Clearly the “country solicitors, struggling small businessmen, harassed second secretaries in foreign embassies, schoolteachers, military folk, farmers—decent people” don’t do digital either. If I apply a microscope to the piece there’s recognition of digital. Oborne isn’t “saying that online traffic is unimportant”.
No. He’s saying that the Telegraph has turned it’s back on good journalism and digital is part of that.
So I still bristle a little when I read the piece. Not because of the apparent lack of journalistic integrity in the British press – who knew! It’s not even because I might think that the Telegraph’s digital strategy is right or wrong. I bristle because, by design (and I credit Oborne with enough editorial skill that everything is considered in that piece) he’s conflates digital content with editorial decline and an inherent editorial weakness. Somehow there is a direct line between digital and bowing to pressure from above. Both responsible for the death of ‘quality journalism’.
The fetishising of editorial value.
Like many others who rhetorically define quality journalism at the expense of digital, Oborne takes the freakshow approach and parades a three breasted lady as evidence of the base nature of digital whilst at the same deftly stepping off the stage to point out where the extra tit is stuck on. All the while avoiding the fact that he always remains a member of the circus.
This ability to be in journalism but not of parts of it is a common trope – the idea of what you do as quality journalism vs well, anything we don’t think is quality. It often comes with a generalized view of what constitutes journalistic values. It’s common across the generations – some young journalists covet the halcyon days of old-school-journalism as much as some of the older generation love to recall them. These were the days of long lunches and masters of a craft not process. The days of country solicitors, schoolteachers, military folk, farmers—decent people with decent values.
And whilst there may have been a golden age of journalism – at least for those who enjoyed them – some of the reaction to and in part some of Obourne’s complaints, show just what a fetish that’s become.
Oborne himself invokes one of the most fetishised parts:
It has long been axiomatic in quality British journalism that the advertising department and editorial should be kept rigorously apart
Desired, yes. Axiomatic? Really! Self-evident? Unquestionable? I think you’d have to be quite selective about your journalism to stand by that statement.
Of course this is an issue of degrees. Yes, I do think there’s a difference in taking a holiday companies junket vs. not running a story about HSBC. But how long is it going to stand up to scrutiny beyond a single journalists own view of their integrity.
I’m less happy to see digital so lazily used to paint a broad stroke picture of bad journalism. In Oborne’s case, especially when the second half of his resignation letter offers a much more compelling and, from a UK press perspective, fundamental example of the problems with journalism.
The bottom line is, more than anything else I dislike about this story, I’ve now got to wade through a mass of people (and I might add an alarming number of them journalists) going “look a SERIOUS journalist has resigned because of digital. He thinks it’s crap”. To borrow from Oborne’s experiences, as a digital advocate I’ll have to put up with people telling me “You don’t know what you are fucking talking about.”. Thanks.
I’m pulling together my yearly online journalism ethics lecture. It’s the fifth-ish lecture on this module (some previous ones online) and the fast-moving nature of this stuff means I’m really starting from scratch but I always go back to previous ones to see where my thinking was.
A prevailing theme for me has been how the ethical standard is set and who sets it. The online landscape clearly stretches moral and ethical concerns and the question for me has always been about how much of that we take on board, how much we take on the norms of the web, and how much is a more fundamental journalism ethic that we should stand by.
In questioning that in my lectures over the years, what I’ve noticed is that the tone of online journalism has changed. It’s divesting itself of some of the tradition and reveling in the norms of the medium. Ethics is on the move and the volume has gone up.
So this year my general starting point for the lecture is that outrage is the new journalism.
Outrage is nothing new for online journalism (and it’s not a new observation). Take comment sections on news sites. They are great examples of outrage creation – baiting readers with a story you know is going to get comments regardless of the tone of the comments.
The argument about who is responsible for the comments on a site is well-worn. Comment systems work within resources and the law. Despite efforts by some publications to curb offensive behavior, the idea that the publication or the journalist take any responsibility for eliciting these comments in the first place seems moot. Even if they are providing the target, the damage is done by those who pull the trigger – the people who comment.
This form of outrage creation is also now common in social media. A casual tweet or post – ‘you won’t believe what this person just said’ – and a viral hit and loads of links later most walk away. But not everyone.
Increasingly I’m seeing a different form of outrage creation. It’s not the fire-and-forget of an article and it’s comments, it’s sustained, crowd-sourced, journalist as brand-outrage. It’s I’m outraged and I want you to share that outrage . Literally share it. Retweet, hashtag and join me in confronting the source of my outrage.
We can tell ourselves that this is simply engaging with an audience. This is the power of social media to right wrongs. It may be. But by another name it’s an angry mob. It may be hashtag shaped pitchforks and flaming torch apps but it’s a mob and it’s your influence (often affiliation with a recognisable journalism brand) and audience (a healthy follower count) that they gather round.
In the social media world its easy to see follower counts as a gauge of popularity. Like audience figures or circulation counts. It’s easy to forget that they are individuals with the capacity to reach out and touch. Perhaps that’s why it can take journalists by surprise when they turn on you. Still, it can be deceptivly easy to distance yourself from the activities of your audience – they aren’t friends, You don’t follow them; a useful degree of separation.
So when someone posts something vile on social media or trolls another user using a link to your work or a hashtag you’ve promoted, its easy to fall back on the same rhetoric that’s used for commenting on web sites. You might make the ammunition but you don’t fire the gun.
What’s the difference? Is someone who goes on to troll a target of your outrage any less of a responsibility than a commenter on your website? Remember this is ethics not law.
I would argue that whilst the comments on a website help create and feed a mob (with all the issues that can create for a site) what you post on social media means you create and lead a mob.
Social media mobs have done some great things but ethically, are you doing the right thing by and with yours?
– I know by citing the Daily Express I’m not doing myself any favours. It’s easy to write them, and the commentors, off as some kind of nutjob fringe. Sadly they are journalism. For the sake of this post the visibility and tone served a purpose. I’m sure that journalists from sites with more active moderation (and more generally agreeable politics) would testify to no less offensive and distressing material appearing on their virtual doorstep.
– I tried really hard not to push the gun/arms metaphor here but forced to I’d have to say that I don’t think journalists on social media are like gun or ammunition manufacturers, even though the logic of distance against blame makes for some very similar ethical positions. For what it’s worth I think a lot of journalistic use of social media is more like the activities of the National Rifle Association.
Interestingly for me,Vox co-founder Melissa Bell, sees their kind of data journalism as a direct descendant of Philip Meyer’s Precision Journalism work on the Detroit Riots (1967).
Forty-eight years after Detroit, precision journalism has given rise to data journalism, which has become a much-touted new media trend.
So Vox’s ‘data journalism’ is 21st Century Precision journalism.
Philip Meyer has become something of an adopted parent to data journalism. The work was not just groundbreaking, more importantly in my view, it was disruptive. It was disruptive to the status-quo of accountability – the assumptions made of those about the rioters. It was also disruptive to journalism. Meyers first iteration of Precision Journalism was directly challenging a prevailing form of literary journalism that many saw as undermining truth and trust. It put science before journalistic belief. In doing that it was also part of a bigger disruption of sociology – a new wave. It’s no surprise then that, like a patron saint, he is invoked by any new data journalism project looking to define the data journalism they do.And Meyer is a very useful starting point.
It doesn’t matter what hue of data journalism you might be, Meyer fits. For many , Meyer is CAR through and through. But if you don’t like the hypothesis driven, 20th Century trappings of CAR, well, Data Driven journalism has all the same tech but with a nicely positivist, scientific approach. A reading of Meyer that is just as likely to keep those exploring the boundaries of computational and algorithmic journalism happy.
But as much as Meyer offers an agreed (and agreeable) starting point for those looking to unpick the “much-touted new media trend” that is data journalism, for me it’s the fundamental philosophical approach that Meyer disrupts (and suggests in that disruption), that is more useful as a tool to think about data journalism and what it means.
For me, in trying to get a flavor of what’s driving (those involved in) the data journalism conversation, it often comes down to this – which comes first. The data or the question?
A proponent of CAR informed data journalism would tell you that you start with the question: ‘I know that there are dodgy MP’s there, I need the data to tell me how dodgy’. It’s all about sampling. Your DDJ fan would tell you that by analyzing and linking data we would ‘discover’ that there were dodgy MP’s. It’s about having all the data.
It is definitely both. You can start with an idea and seek out data to help answer the questions, or you can start with a data set and surface stories from the changes discovered within that set. Either way, it’s always about being constrained only by your imagination!
So, very much story driven. If we have the data we’ll do something with it.
It’s difficult to give a direct answer… it depends on the topic, what data we can get a hold of, and whether that data can help us bring clarity to the thing we’re trying to explain.
Digging for data takes time and doesn’t always yield fruit. Raw data usually comes in drastically different formats and structure and takes work to process and understand.
I think we’ll be collecting as much raw data and we can handle. We’ll have to focus in on the stuff that we think can add the most to our reporting
Both of those answers speak more to the ‘longitudinal’ issues of data journalism than any definition. How will resources and editorial line impact on the way you use data? How long can you stick to a Data Driven approach when resources and editorial line don’t let you gather and develop databases of raw data? For what it’s worth, I think Bell’s comments about the structure of team tell us more about where Vox are going, alluding to a more visual, editorially responsive mode.
I’m excited to see what Vox come up with. As much as anything else, because what they come up with will excite others – they will be saying we want data journalism like VOX. As much as Meyer might be the motivation, Vox and their ilk are now the dominant blueprint.
For me, Vox’s position underlines the importance of Meyer as a reference point; common ground on which to start the conversation and not much else. We can’t say that Vox would be any more or less Meyersian in its data journalism. At best it means I don’t know where you are going but I do know where you are coming from.
In helping me understand what data journalism is for Vox, that’s as much as I can ask for.
Now, I have to admit, when I read that my heart sank. I’ll go a stage further and say (as I did on twitter) that a little bit of my soul died.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a snob. For me news is anything that is current and of interest to your target audience. So at one level I have no issue with this kind of statement of a “news” agenda. I do worry about the tone which, given that it’s aimed at University students, sounds more appropriate to explaining a particularly challenging part of Katie Morag to my 4 year old daughter.
But part of me recognizes that maybe I’m uncomfortable about this because it lifts the curtains on journalism news agendas. It’s the grubby truth behind the pomp of ‘journalistic values’. The stripped down basics. News with a catastrophic effects failure (like Bill Bailey’s excellent riff on U2 above)
So you could see The Tab’s what is news as a positive. It’s a statement of their news values. So I’m not having a go. The Tab are just as entitled to do what they do as anyone else. It’s just that I would have preferred it though if they had prefaced it if they had qualified it with ‘here is what it news for us’.
I don’t think it serves anyone to call this news. That’s not a value judgement; we are all in the content business.
We are in the business of putting the right content in front of the right people. If I’m going to sell writing for The Tab (or any other publication for that matter) as an opportunity I want to be able to sell it as a way to explore the full extent of what the industry is. That means different styles and definitions of audience. That’s what I teach – Journalism as a broad church. Make it easy for me to do that and I’ll help. Leave defining news to the academics (it’s an academic argument anyway) and just tell people why, what you are publishing.
So does more than 100 likes on Facebook make news? Who cares. If it’s compelling content for your audience, then that’s enough.
I was chatting to a @clarecook this morning – office mate and all round planet brain – and we got onto the subject of how we use Twitter to find people.
Clare noted that often she will follow people based on a conference or event that she saw them at. I recognise that approach. I often put on a glut of ‘following’ before, during and after events as you track the run-up and aftermath.
What Clare also noted was when she wants to find people her point of reference is often that event – ‘I remember I met a person who was great on business models at #journoconference but can’t remember their name’
If you’re organised then you could have lists but lists don’t seem granular enough to cover the range. Really what you need is a way to tag followers.
We decided that want we want is something like this:
When I follow someone, it would be great if there was a pop-up that allowed me to tag them. I could add my own or select from a number of tags generated from their recent feed. That might help if I want to search for people tweeting around a conference etc. It would also allow me to do that by actual hashtag for the same reasons. Once followed you could search by tag and even identify the tags picked at the time you followed them.
In one respect this is the opposite of how many people want to use twitter. Any tools are about filtering the stream to get current information. But Twitter is meant to be a communication platform – a follower list is as much a list of contacts as it is a list of sources. A convenient way to search your contacts based on context that’s more granular than lists doesn’t seem like too odd an idea to me.
Now, there may be an app that already does this. If so, we’d love to know.
I’m doing lit-review at the moment (this might sound academic but it essentially consists of me yellow-highlighter-penning-the-feck out of papers and journal articles) and I came across a little loop in defining data journalism that got me thinking, thanks to Wikipedia.
Look at wikipedia’s definition for data journalism and you before you begin you’re told:
Reading the definitions there’s a hint of why. Data driven journalism is one process of the broader practice of Data journalism. Data journalism reaches outside of journalism to encompass data science and designers.
Does that mean that I can say that if I come from the school of thought that wants to play down (or distance myself) from the idea that data journalism is about output – visualization – that I do data driven journalism? Does the difference speak to philosophical/professional position?
Just get on with it?
In one sense I don’t have a problem with the distinction – it makes a kind of sense. I’m also sure many others won’t, dismissing it with the weary sigh that prefixes ‘what does it matter what we call it, lets just do it’.
As an observation, I have to say it’s stuff like this that really needs nailing down if data journalism (or whatever you call it) wants to be left alone just to get on with it.
One of the research papers I’ve read (it’s a great paper btw) suggests, is that “at least part of what is considered as forming the contemporary trend of data journalism mainly operates in the realm of discourse”. In other words the idea of data journalism is not fixed.
One reading of that is that its a developing field and in that there is bound to be an element of evolution (in the Darwinian sense). Look at the wikipedia page for Computer assisted reporting:
You could argue that conceptually (in the minds of those just doing it) this has already happened. The CAR page, like many others on Wikipedia, will serve as much as an archive for the term, reflecting that, at one point, it was considered coherent enough of a thing to warrant it’s own page. USeful for me as an academic but redundant going forward.
But you could also read it as making it up as we go along – that’s not very precision is it.
When I think about where media is going, I think about elephants.
For the longest time digital was the elephant in the room.
Now media, and journalism in particular, accept the elephant is there. So we don’t ask ‘why can’t we do what we’ve always done?’ (a: ‘coz theres a chuffin great elephant in the way!)
That doesn’t stop industry obsessing about the elephant. So we get questions that tend to fall into two general types:
Where did the elephant come from? see also , Who let this elephant in here?
How do we get rid of this bloody elephant?
The answer to type one is easy. Who cares! It’s a moot point and I would say that if people are asking that question outside of an academic context, they know the answer and just don’t like it! Still, the question is asked .
The second one is more complicated and one that is still, if cryptically,asked with alarming regularity. But if you generally want to deal with and learn from the problems digital poses then the best approach is to take that other well known question: How do you eat an elephant?
The answer…a piece at a time.
If we think about where journalism and media is heading we know there is a direction of travel. What makes for success is less about being able to be responsive to changes in direction and more about changes in velocity. Guessing where we are going is a finger in the wind at best. Knowing that at certain points we are going to be moving faster than others is a given.
In a digital world we see lean, responsive, opportunistic, niche as parts of the start-up culture. It’s been said a few times that the thing that makes sites like Buzzfeed attractive to investors is that they are a media company that behaves like a tech company.
But what I think really sets MOWSUC’s – media organisations with a start-up cultures – apart is that they ask questions. But they don’t ask the big questions they already know the answers to.
They ask hundreds of different questions everyday: What do our users like now? How did that work with the audience? What happens if we do that? If they like this, will they like that? Will this work on mobile?
These are all questions that traditional media ask (even that last one) but the key is MOWSUC do it in public, fail fast and move on, and their responses more often than not drive technological not institutional change. Rather than obsessing about what’s happening around them, they get on with eating their pieces of the elephant.
That constant questioning is what presages the shifts in velocity. The more people asking and the more the answers the converge the more momentum they create. Then we get the sudden shift forward.
Missing the bigger picture
The criticism is that this is often a race to the bottom. Each MOWSUC, is slavishly tied to the fickle whims of a lowest common denominator audience. It’s also seen a recipe for homogeneity: oh look another buzzfeed clone or another viral video site!
But the trick with many start-ups, is not that they are building another app in a world full of apps, it’s that they are concentrating on making their app the best it can be, regardless of someone else is doing exactly the same. In other words, they don’t mind if someone else is eating a piece of the elephant.
Ultimately that’s what attracts investors to start ups in general and MOWSUC in particular. Even if they end up failing they have learned so much along the way there is inherent value in being inside and along for the ride.
I think that’s most obvious in the high churn of people between MOWSUC. People move quickly between one company and another. Knowledge and experience in MOWSUC’s are just as viral as their content.
Asking the right questions
So if I’m thinking about where media is going, I do think about questions. I think about an organization’s capacity to ask and adapt to the answers and the capacity to simple learn from rather than worrying about what others are doing. Digital is a big elephant to eat. Learn from the MOWSUC and just pick a piece to start munching.
Warning: Thinking in process here. Sense may come later!
I spent some time last week talking to students about mapping. Practically we were looking at Google maps and storymap.js. But I spent a bit of time reinforcing how location is increasingly valuable in storytelling – especially as thinking about where as well as how people interact with your stories is becoming vital in a mobile/geolocated world.
Locating ourselves is easily done with a reference. Look at a map (or an image for that matter) and you can describe a point using lat and long or x and y. That’s the heart of mapping stories and often the biggest part of getting a story located. Just look at the number of questions/solutions to converting postcodes to lat/long etc.
But, living in the real world,is it enough to simply scratch the surface?
If we think about an interactive map, whilst x and y give us the location to place the marker, the content we attach to that point, usually in a pop-up bubble, can be quite rich. But in the dynamic, content rich world of the web does that context equal depth? And, given the impact and engagement in images, is the benefit of location limited to a map?
Locating the user
I got to thinking about this question in more detail when we began to look at applications like Thinkglink and the Gigapixel option in Storymap.js. These applications, just like a map, are location based but maybe we could think of them as a kind of hyper-geo-local.
Take this image of Hillsbourough:
It’s an image so we can ‘locate’ information on that image just as we could a map; the location of key witnesses; an entrance to a stand. We can also add some context to those points through interactive bubbles e.g a bio of that witness or who was in that ambulance on the edge of the pitch?
There is a limit to how much we can include on the surface of a map or image. So having orientated the reader in the scene, locating them in the story, the most common approach to leading them deeper into the story is to link back to more content. This expands the story across another axis; z or depth
In very basic terms I don’t think we are offering enough depth in a story online if we don’t link out. But its a common issue with interactive that they tend to be self contained. That’s changing but often this is not just about offering that depth just for context.
Anyone running a news site is well aware of the compulsion to pull people to their site and keep them there. Page views, time on site and internal referrals are all parts of the crossover between content and the business model. So in the commercial work and editorial world, depth is an essential dimension to cover.
Stories don’t stand still
That idea of archive, or the growth of content around a running story is one that many media orgs have embraced at a very practical level. Topic pages on websites, tagging and related links all show that a story is not a finite thing and there’s value in tracking it’s development. That adds another dimension to our storytelling ; t for time.
We are probably more used to thinking about time in the context of time lines. The image above, for example, might be more obviously presented as:
I like timelines. They work really well when a story has a number of when elements. By thinking about the whole range of dimensions we can play with in storytelling perhaps we can find more interesting ways to place someone physically and metaphorically into a story.
Elements or dimensions
I’ll often say to students that thinking about the what, where and when of story will illuminate opportunities for new forms of storytelling; i.e. lots of locations in a story, maybe a map would better help people understand. But maybe thinking about exploring other dimensions of stories is a more flexible way to think about the process.
In my mind (and after reading this you might wonder about the state of it!) asking how we locate people is a good starting point. If it is by time, a timeline is good, but if the timeline contains an image why not look at the locations and build out depth from there. Is that contextually stronger?
I realize that there are quite a few conceptual leaps here (or maybe not) but I wonder if thinking about the x, y, z and t is a useful way to go. What do you think?