February 21, 2011
I should start by pointing out that I do not believe this blog constitutes journalism by a long shot. The only thing you could reliably infer about me from this blog is that I am incurably lazy.
But what about Ed Yong? He’s extremely well respected in his chosen field, writes an excellent blog on Discover called Not Exactly Rocket Science which won a big award, has 6,000 followers on Twitter, and he’s been published in places like the Guardian, Nature, the Telegraph, the Economist…
So he’s a journalist. Except someone in the University of Manchester press office didn’t think so, and bad things happened when it all got a bit personal. I’m not going into it here, because a) loads of other people have done so already, and better than I would be able to; and b) Ed himself has had an apology from the guy, and has generally been very level-headed about it. Everyone learns – although it did end up as a Wired article as well.
But the crux is that when more information was requested, there was a perception gap between an illegitimate request from ‘amateur’ blogging and a legitimate request from ‘professional’ journalism. This seems like a clash that is going to have to resolve itself pretty soon.
In this example, Ed is clearly a professional with a valid mandate to ask questions – the press officer had just never heard of him when he plainly should have done. But what if he wasn’t – was on no payroll at all, and his only outlet was a blog he set up & publicised himself? Would the University have been justified in telling this hypothetical individual that it was none of their business?
From the perspective of a press officer, this surely boils down to the available audience that the blogger/journalist is a gatekeeper for; if the blogger had no press pass, but a site traffic greater than a few thousand a day – which would now literally make them more influential than the Times website – then it surely would be worth the Uni’s while to manage them as a contact.
So, looking further ahead, I can imagine a world in which your ‘social score’ defines how companies and individuals respond to you. In the brave new dawn of IPv6 (more on this in another blog at some point) where every single thing with electricity could have its own IP address, then your digital ID online could be matched with your digital output; Amazon or eBay already know what you like to read or wear – now they could also know how many people listen to you online across all social spaces, and they could treat you accordingly.
And with near-field communication and other intrusions of the digital sphere into the real world, it wouldn’t have to only be online; imagine Selfridges kicking Madonna and 10,000 other people out of the shop because Stephen Fry walked in and they wanted to make his experience as positive as possible?
July 12, 2010
So the Times paywall has finally gone up, a month or so beyond the original planned date of introduction. It’s looking fairly slick too, although there have been a few teething issues with their own journalists getting frozen out.
The media & advertising industry have adopted their standard attitude to anything new; an initial flurry of excitement, quickly followed by complete apathy until either:
a) It is proven to be successful in one of a few hundred possible ways, in which case it simply becomes the new normal and no-one questions it (recent examples: anything to do with Twitter; user participation in the news – “record snow here in London, and to prove it here are some of your 44,000 photos of ruddy snowmen”).
b) It doesn’t really work for one of a few hundred possible reasons, in which case it becomes the new Betamax and no-one learns from it (recent examples: CEROS e-mags; Adrian Chiles)
I think media paywalls will eventually fall into category a) – but not in this precise guise.
Newspapers currently cling to a space in our collective heads that they no longer have the wherewithal to occupy. Firstly, scale – we still think of newspapers as categorising people, whether by class or political view (Guardian-reading communist, Sun-reading football hooligan, and so on). But the reality is only 20% of the UK adult population ever read a daily newspaper. To put that in context, more than twice as many people agree that, ‘yes I eat mature cheese regularly’ (a staggering 50% of the country), than do with the statement ‘I rely on a newspaper to keep me informed’.
The Guardian now circulates at almost precisely the same level as Marie Claire magazine. So why do we still treat one as an active political force and the other as passive entertainment? Why isn’t the editor of Women’s Own (with more readers than the Guardian) ever on a panel with Jeremy Paxman?
The other factor at work here is value. The Daily Mail in particular spends large chunks of its sweaty waking existence in attacking the BBC, constantly (jealously?) bemoaning any apparently slipshod use of license fee-payer’s money. And yet by any reasonable calculation you’d have to say that the BBC offers extraordinary value for money at just £142.50 a year – or 40p a day. For that you get everything from iPlayer to the Antiques Roadshow, the Today programme to a re-animated 6 Music. All with the recent added benefit of no Adrian Chiles. Amazing.
It certainly seems better value than the Daily Mail, which if we assume a regular purchase of 3 issues per week plus the Mail on Sunday, adds up to £156 a year. Which seems a lot just to find out the next instalment of Mail’s ongoing mission to categorise every object in the world as either causing or curing cancer, and even more so when you consider that all of their content is available online for free.
And so to paywalls. It may appear from the above that I don’t like newspapers – but actually I love them. I love reading Charlie Brooker & Ben Goldacre in the Guardian, occasionally check out Jeremy Clarkson in the Sunday Times, Oliver Kamm is brilliant in the Times, I like the Telegraph’s editorial leaders & sport coverage, and if I’m ever depressed then Richard Littlejohn never fails to make me feel better about the fact that almost no-one else on Earth is him.
But clearly I can’t/don’t buy every newspaper, and so to suit my snacking approach I just read each individual element, as well as all of those recommended to me by friends or linked in other articles, for free online – whenever I want & not just when some people decide to roll out some dead trees really flat and stamp it on there, early in the morning.
I don’t want to pay £2 per week for the whole of the Times – but I probably would pay £5 per week for a syndicated collection of my choosing; this column from the Guardian, this from the Times, this cartoon from the FT (they have cartoons, right?).
The blanket paywall system is old media thinking applied to new media content.
Sorry for the massive delay in posting. I’d love to be able to say I won’t do it again.
March 15, 2010
There are two interesting things about Toyota’s epic recall-a-thon:
1: They are not alone in recalling cars on a large scale. So far from alone, in fact, that they should get some badges and a special jacket made, and elect a club secretary.
2: They have handled it really, really badly.
To look at the first point, an instructive 15mins spent reformatting the list of all car recalls ever issued in the US from the NHTSA here shows you very quickly that pretty much every car manufacturer you can think of does this all the time. In 2010 alone, so far 22 different proper car marques have issued recalls in the US – more if you include Ford, Chrysler & GM!
Only joking – actually no I’m not. Anyone would think that the US media canon wasn’t very happy about Toyota taking over GM’s world number one spot… I must have missed the torrent of panic & opinion about the Chrysler 300 saloon’s wheel nuts being recalled, or the instrument display of the Jeep Grand Cherokee [both listed as 2010 recalls above].
Anyway, the point is everyone does this, all the time. Are they as serious as Toyota’s issues potentially are? Not always, but definitely sometimes.
So why is this such big news now?
Along with no doubt a number of other important factors, one reason is my second point; how was this issue fumbled so badly by such a massive company? The presumption here is that massive companies are more prepared & well fortified from a communications perspective. That may sometimes be the case, but often the reality is that it becomes another process, just like ordering new wheel nuts or instrument clusters.
In the case of Toyota, one of the things that happened was that this issue blew up 10 days before a scheduled fortnightly PR meeting – meaning no-one did anything until the process told them to. After all, you don’t want just-in-time automated systems ordering more wheel nuts whenever they fancy. And all those fancy haircuts at the PR agency are just another supplier, aren’t they?
So there was a big gap, which inevitably got filled with the opinions of everyone who could be bothered to give one. When President & CEO Akio Toyoda (yes, relation) did make a statement, he immediately personalised it by being ‘deeply sorry’ about everything – rather than appearing in control of what had caused the situation. And then he drove off in a nice big, safe Audi…
Things to learn here:
1) People don’t hang around waiting for you (as the official brand) to tell them what actually happened; they will form conclusions based on the available evidence, and if you’re not there when that happens – tough.
2) Embrace all dialogue. Imagine you’re a Prius owner that gets an email from Toyota, before there is a story at all, saying ‘It’s no big deal, but because we’re so safety-minded and curious, we’d like to check our solution to the problem everyone has – of making cars stop & go – is still the best one in the market. So come and say hello and we’ll give you a free [insert anything of value here]’. It’s the same solution, but doesn’t totally destroy your brand’s core value..
3) Buy an Audi.