The fallacy of naivete

“Naive” seems to be the buzzword of the week.

Jessie DaSilva, a good friend of mine and fellow journalism student, wrote a widely read blog post this week about the changing face of journalism.

Aside from the content of the post, if you read the comments, you’ll notice that one of the greatest criticisms of her opinions as expressed in the post is naivete. Some of these people make good content points as well — but underlying it is the sentiment that she’s too young to know any better.

One of the great things about my internship this summer has been the chance to meet a lot of people, some of them old-timers, who still believe in journalism, who say that it’s the best thing that ever happened to them.

So what do you call those people? Do you call them delusional or say that they have their heads stuck in the sand? Do you liken them to the band playing as the Titanic sank?

Whatever you call them, I bet you don’t call them naive — because they have decades of experience behind them.

It’s time we recognize the naivete argument for what it is: ageist. Because it’s wrong to say that someone’s opinion doesn’t count just because he/she is under 30.

We are all scared about the future of journalism. I’m scared of finding a job that gives me health insurance, while others worry about feeding their families. It’s depressing and terrifying.

But don’t call me naive just because despite all of that, I still decided to go into journalism. I come from a family of journalists, and I’ve seen this all firsthand. I know the stress that late nights, budget cuts, deadlines and stressful newsrooms can bring. But I’m choosing to be optimistic about the industry. If that doesn’t work out, I’ll move onto something else: I’ll teach, go to law school or do something else that will pay the bills. But I want to give journalism a try first because I think it can make the world a better place.

Also, I try not to criticize people who are upset with journalism as “old-media types” or “disillusioned” because I don’t think that’s all-encompassing or fair, and it’s often stereotypical. There are plenty of young, bright-eyed journalists who have come to feel that way, too. These people have experiences that have gotten them to where they are. They have a right to their beliefs about journalism.

I expect to be afforded that same respect.

I think it’s easy to call people — young people — naive when you don’t understand their motivations.

It’s a lot harder to understand persistent optimism in the face of acknowleged adversity.

I’ll close with a comment on Jessie’s post from Andrew Tan, also a friend and former journalism student:

“Reading all all these comments trying to dismiss DaSilva as naive I can’t help but feel a bit disturbed.
To try to dismiss anyone, especially a journalist, as naive is ridiculous. The entire profession is based on the notion that there is a ‘Truth’ out there that journalists can always get closer to.
While such a thing seems like such a small light in such a great distance, the faith that that distance can be conquered and that light can be brightened is what keeps journalism going. To try to dismiss someone as too naive to be jaded is the antithesis of the purpose of this profession.”

An open letter to Lee Abrams

Dear Mr. Lee Abrams,

You heretic.

“THE NPR FEEL? Newspapers strike me as being a little TOO NPR. I like NPR, and their shows like Morning Edition do well. But NPR can also be a bit elitist. Morning News Radio has a lot of similarities to papers: Similar target audience; Old Media; Time restraints. It’s probably a good thing to study the feel of a well honed All News Radio station.”

I love NPR. If that makes me an elitist old-media type (despite being 20), I will accept that. Their news is well-reported and listener-supported, so they don’t have to go to the 50-50 ad/content format that your employer, Tribune Co., is hawking. If we’re going to ditch the excellent reporting of NPR in exchange for the sound-bytes of all-news radio — sure, that would save us money, but no one would read the newspaper if it were made up entirely of short, similar stories. Readers, in my opinion, want originality more than they despise elitism. How very Marxist of you — I’m sorry, was the Marx reference offensive to your anti-elite sensibilities?

Speaking of original writing, that brings me to my next point:

“Before I joined Tribune, I had NO idea that reporters were around the globe reporting the news…Because the paper “assumed” I knew. Then I saw an article on Broadway shows. Again a small byline with no mention of “Reporting from New York”. These are assumptions that are shooting ourselves in the foot. People DON’T know that you have REAL people exclusively reporting, because we ASSUME they do.”

Mr. Abrams: It is called a Dateline. That is what the “NEW YORK –” at the very beginning of the Broadway reviews means. The byline with a real person’s name might tip readers off to the fact that a real person is doing that reporting, as well.

Also, sir, you might like to take note that CAPITALIZING words for EMPHASIS is only appropriate for instant-message conversations (and not always then; be wary when using this strategy during IM fights). People might take your IDEAS that are actually GOOD more seriously if you communicate CLEARLY. That goes for newspapers, as well.

So, Mr. Abrams, do us all a favor: next time, leave the newspaper innovation ideas to people who know anything about newspapers.

Sincerely,

Hilary Lehman

P.S. If this letter means nothing to you, I suggest you check out more memos in your honor at Poynter Online. Maybe you could get some ideas for your next “15 POINTS THAT’LL GROW NEWSPAPERS” installment. I’m a big proponent of the Harry-Potteresque moving pictures idea, myself.

Heroes of Journalism newsworthiness analysis

There’s been much discussion lately over whether Tim Russert’s death was overcovered.

Before anyone takes offense and leaves nasty comments, I will say this: Tim Russert was an excellent journalist who seemed to take his job and the profession of journalism seriously, and thus his death should be noted and treated with the utmost respect and reverence.

I also understand that since he died suddenly, so this makes it a newsworthy event.

However.

It has now been three years since my all-time, No. 1 Hero of Journalism died, leaving me depressed and feeling the call of the profession of journalism.

Peter Jennings’ death was what really got me into journalism. I won’t eulogize, since that’s kind of counterproductive to the point of this post. But it was life-changing for me.

So when I saw on Romenesko that journalism professor Christopher R. Martin had analyzed Russert v. Jennings death coverage, I was apprehensive. This kind of thing has the potential to upset me greatly — I know, I get too emotionally involved in these issues.

But I decided to read it. I’m glad I did.

I do believe that as media, we have the right and even obligation to honor our own. Tim Russert’s death was a shock. But the media also need to consider, in cases like these, whether they are letting their mourning get in the way of the news.

To quote Martin,

“When Jennings died there were no other big news stories. When Russert died, there was the major continuing saga of 500-year floods in Iowa and the Upper Midwest.

Given the comparison to Jennings, I think the coverage of Russert’s death – with no disrespect to him or his family – was out of proportion.”

I don’t believe that these journalists would have wanted mourning over their passing to take the center stage when news is happening.

As the media, I think we need to learn when to stop mourning our lost and honor them by doing what they did best — covering the news.

What I want out of my newspaper

Last week during a car ride, my dad, also a newspaper man, asked me the following question:

“How do most of the people you know get your news?”

In my family, this is what qualifies as a loaded question.

At this point, I realized I’d have to give up my search for “Boys of Summer” on the car radio, so I launched into what I knew would be a 20-minute Q&A session.

An abridged transcript follows:

Q: How do most of the people you know get your news?

A: Not newspapers, other than the student-run one. Exceptions to this are (sometimes) journalism students. It’s not that people I know don’t care about the news — it’s that they don’t think all the news packed into the daily newspaper relates to them.

Q: Do people read newspapers online?

A: Hmm … well, it depends what news they want and whether online is the most convenient medium. People read the Alligator because they can pick it up and look at it on the bus. They read it because it features people and places they know — with a community of 50,000, that isn’t hard to do. But for most news, online isn’t going away. Newspapers need to figure out how to make money off of it.

Q: Would it help if newspapers went on Facebook and MySpace?

A: Weeeeell … no. Not in their current form. It’s the format of newspapers people don’t like, not necessarily the medium. Going on Facebook, wonderful medium though it is, in the form that newspapers generally take will not work. Will it work if people get a feed of stories targeted to their interests? I’d be interested to see that.

I think newspapers need to redefine news judgment. People are interested in hearing news about people, places and things that they know. I think that’s the interest behind the hyperlocal movement, although that’s been twisted to mean “more of the same local stories.” Newspapers need to partly redefine newsworthy as “what will people be interested in?” I don’t think we need the exact same analysis of the Florida Democratic primaries in every city newspaper. Everyone’s seen that before. We need to do those stories, but we need to also do human interest stories. For instance, I would have liked to see a story in, say, the Miami Herald, looking into any local women who protested the DNC rules committee meeting. What are their backgrounds? Who are they? Where do they live? Do I know any of them?

People care about human interest stories. And those are stories you can run in your paper that no one else will have. They focus on an aspect of the story that is unique to your demographic. That’s important. News + Human interest is, I think, the way of the future.

People still want to read stories. The problem is, the Internet has inundated them with information, and information does not always equal stories. So people get buried under “BREAKING NEWS” updates, and when they see yet another story about the Democratic primaries in Florida, they gag and pass it by.

[We later discussed that part of the reason Facebook succeeds is "it's about people." Newspapers need to be about people, too.]

In summary

Newspapers need less of the same and more human interest stories, in-depth reporting and demographic-focused stories.

I know that’s not going to be a popular idea. A lot of journalists feel the vaguely parental sentiment that it’s for journalists to decide if news is good for the public, even if it might be “boring.”

But newspapers are not vegetables. The “consume it, it’s good for you, because-I-say-so” rationale doesn’t work here. My generation has to be adept at sorting through information, because there is more information available to us than we could ever take in. We will read what we are interested in.

Until newspapers realize that, the business model is going to be broken. Until they start targeting stories at demographics — which I know some would see as an ugly stepchild of advertising and journalism — people won’t find the stories they would want to read.

And that’s the biggest problem. Because if newspapers keep declining, they won’t have the budget to get what they need — and that’s just a vicious cycle.

‘Anonymous sources rear their ugly heads again,’ hopefully not for long

I love ombudsmen.

The ombudsman position was actually the first job I applied for at The Alligator. I think it’s important to let readers know what’s going on at any paper.

The most recent reminder of my love for the public editor position was Clark Hoyt’s editorial on anonymous sources in the Times.To quote Hoyt, “Readers hate anonymous sources because they cannot judge the sources’ credibility for themselves.”

Or, as my reporting professor Mike Foley said, “Anonymous sources rear their ugly heads again.”

And boy, are they ugly. Journalists need to get over the idea that the public should put its faith blindly in our profession. A journalist lives by the mantra, “If your mother says she love you, check it out.” The public should be able to hold journalists to that same level of accountability — but how can they if we don’t give them the facts to check?

From Jayson Blair to stories on John McCain’s alleged affairs, we’ve come a long way from the days of Deep Throat. It’s time for news outlets to be alert: journalists are not always trustworthy. Like any institution, corruption can infiltrate our ranks.

We owe it to the readers to hold ourselves accountable by publishing our sources, except in the most dire straits. Again, from Hoyt’s editorial:

“Vital as they can be, their use is sometimes silly: a CBS producer talking about Katie Couric could not be quoted by name because management did not want anyone criticizing her. The producer said people who work with her like her.”

Clark Hoyt, I salute you for holding your own paper accountable. The press may be the watchdog of the government, but the public has to be the watchdog of the press.