By MARK PEARSON Follow @Journlaw
I just found this piece I wrote for the Otago Daily Times in New Zealand for its 140th anniversary issue almost 12 years ago.
My brief was to gaze into my crystal ball and foretell the future for newspapers. Futurology is always fraught, but on reflection I think I called it reasonably well at the time. What do you think?
(Of course, it’s quite a different outlook now!)
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‘To have and to hold: newspapers on way back’, Otago Daily Times, December 11, 2001, p. 39
By Mark Pearson
Five years ago the Internet seemed to have scripted the death of newspapers.
Here was a hypertextual, instant, multi-level, multimedia technology with the potential to spawn new communities, reinvigorate old ones, and to fulfill the roles of all preceding media in a single interactive device.
Predictions of the death of newspapers were so common during the dot.com boom they had become almost trite.
Converts to the Web thumbed their noses at newspaper executives and compared them with the bosses of the stagecoach industry at the turn of the last century: while the future of horses as a species was assured, their function as the primary form of transport was destined for extinction.
Writer and academic Neil Postman even ventured to question the future of journalism in the modern era.
“What is the problem to which the profession of journalism is the solution?” he asked.
Postman argued that in the nineteenth century, journalism answered the problem of scarce information, but by the end of the last millennium the problem had become a glut of information.
“The problem is how to decide what is significant, relevant information, how to get rid of unwanted information,” he said.
When applied to newspapers, others suggested the problem was exacerbated by competition from other media, the loss of the notion of “community” in modern society, and the increasing pressures upon the average consumer’s time.
Add to this the fact that media consumers in Western democratic nations had experienced more than 20 years of relative peace and prosperity (in other words, little of large-scale importance to read about) and it seemed there were few remaining reasons why anyone would want to buy a newspaper.
One scholar, the US historian C. John Sommerville, pointed to another inherent problem in the news media: it is the business of products like newspapers to make the front page every day look like their contents are important and relevant, even though nothing earth-shattering might have actually happened in the preceding 24 hours.
Sommerville argues that over time this has dulled audiences to the contents of news products, leaving them with a lack of trust in the relative importance of the day’s headlines.
In his book How the News Makes Us Dumb, Sommerville says the news makes citizens “dumb” by dissecting reality, leaving the public with no idea of what to make of our times.
Nevertheless, two important events in the recent past have changed much of that and have allowed newspapers the opportunity to recapture the attention and loyalty of ordinary citizens.
One was the dot.com crash, the other the events of September 11, 2001.
The collapse of the financial markets’ confidence in Internet companies sent investors and consumers back to safer, reliable and tangible media commodities. And the newspaper was as safe and reliable and tangible a medium as one could find.
Despite generally declining circulations and dwindling titles since the 1950s, newspapers had continued to hold, if not improve, their share of the advertising dollar in an increasingly competitive media market. And all along the way they were recognized as wielding tremendous influence over important decision-makers in society, and for setting the agenda for competing media outlets.
The dot.com crash restored advertisers’ confidence in the safety of a quarter page advertisement in the morning daily over the ethereal promise of a million hits on some start-up backyard enterprise’s web site.
Like a good old-fashioned bride or groom, the newspaper was something “to have and to hold”, and it was somewhat comforting for advertisers to know their quarter page ad in the Daily Planet was going to land on a finite, countable number of front lawns in its shrink-wrap cover before breakfast the next morning.
The terrorism attack on America on September 11 and its aftermath also found newspapers back in their element as a chronicle and interpreter of world-shattering news within hours of its occurrence.
Certainly, there had been a shift in the role of newspapers as a medium since their heyday reporting the Second World War in the 1940s.
Then, with radio as their only competitor, they were bringing the actual news of distant events to their readers.
On September 12, 2001, they still delivered that news, but they offered much more: graphic colour photographic coverage and pages of background information and analysis that other media could not match.
As I stumbled down my driveway to pick up my local newspaper on that historic morning, having just seen the news report on the television, I was amazed that my local newspaper had been able to produce several pages of coverage of an event that had not even happened when I went to bed the night before.
The sheer thought of producing a printed product of considerable sophistication within that timeline reminded me of why the newspaper, something most of us take for granted, once earned the nickname “The Daily Miracle”.
Newspapers the world over relished the opportunity to cover such an important happening and interpret it for their readers.
And readers appreciated it, with newspaper titles throughout the world returning record circulations since that event as readers sought out tangible details on the attacks and the ensuing war and looked to newspapers for reliable expert comment and analysis.
This important news puts newspapers in their element, and its scarcity over the past half century has combined with other factors to erode the daily reading habit.
Newspaper executives hope their extra investment in the terrorism coverage will win back many of those lost readers.
We have yet to see whether that strategy is successful, but either way it would be a brave soothsayer who would predict the imminent death of newspapers.
We live in hope that events like those of September 11 will not recur and that the world will soon return to relative peace.
Even if that scenario comes to pass, newspapers will not die in the short to medium term.
Their circulations might decline gradually, and the number of newspaper titles might continue to diminish.
But those that survive will continue to play an important role in democratic societies and their influence among decision-makers and power brokers will continue to exceed their actual circulations.
© Mark Pearson 2001 and 2013






Media law basics for election bloggers
By MARK PEARSON Follow @Journlaw
[This blog was first published on the citizen journalism election site No Fibs, edited by Margo Kingston.]
Countless laws might apply to the serious blogger and citizen journalist because Web 2.0 communications transcend borders into places where expression is far from free.
Even in Australia there are nine jurisdictions with a complex array of laws affecting writers and online publishers, including defamation, contempt, confidentiality, discrimination, privacy, intellectual property and national security.
If you plan on taking the ‘publish and be damned’ approach coined by the Duke of Wellington in 1824, then you might also take the advice of Tex Perkins from The Cruel Sea in 1995: “Better get a lawyer, son. Better get a real good one.”
(A quick disclaimer: My words here do not constitute legal advice. I’m not a lawyer.)
The problem is that most bloggers can’t afford legal advice and certainly don’t have the luxury of in-house counsel afforded to journalists still working for legacy media.
So if you’re going to pack a punch in your writing you at least need a basic grasp of the main areas of the law, including the risks involved and the defences available to you.
Defamation remains the most common concern of serious writers and commentators because blog posts so often risk damage to someone’s reputation – but it does have some useful defences.
Political commentary has been much livelier over the past two decades since the High Court handed down a series of decisions conveying upon all citizens a freedom to communicate on matters of politics and government.
However, it is still refining its own decisions on the way this affects political defamation, and most of us aren’t as fortunate as Darryl Kerrigan in The Castle – we don’t all befriend a QC willing to run our High Court appeal pro bono.
That leaves us trying to work within the core defamation defences of truth and ‘honest opinion’ (also known as ‘fair comment’). (Of course there is also the defence protecting a fair and accurate report of court, parliament and other public occasions if you are engaging in straight reporting of such a major case or debate and a range of other less common defences).
Truth as a defence has its challenges because you need admissible evidence to prove the truth of defamatory facts you are stating – and you also need evidence of defamatory meanings that might be read into your words (known as ‘imputations’).
That can be difficult. You might have the photograph of a shonky developer handing a politician some cash – but you’d need more evidence than that to prove she is corrupt.
Serious allegations like these need to be legalled.
Harsh criticism of public figures can usually be protected by the defence of honest opinion or fair comment if you review the criteria carefully each time you blog.
This defence is based on the idea that anyone who has a public role or who puts their work out into a public forum should expect it to be criticised and even lampooned by others.
To earn it you will normally need to ensure that the target of your critique is indeed in the public domain. This covers criticism of such things as the quality and service of hotels and restaurants; reviews of creative works like music, books and artworks; critiques of sports and entertainment performances; and reflections on the role and statements of politicians and other public officials.
Your defamatory material needs to be your honest opinion, based upon provable facts stated in the material.
While facts might be provable, you obviously can’t prove the truth or falsity of opinions themselves, which are much more subjective in their nature.
As I explain in Blogging and Tweeting Without Getting Sued (Allen & Unwin, 2012) the law will not allow you to parade a fact as an opinion. For example, you could not write “In my opinion, Jones is a rapist and the judge must be demented”. In such a case, the court would view both allegations as statements of fact, and you would need to prove the truth of each. However, if you had drawn on provable facts to prove Jones had indeed committed serious sexual offences and had just been convicted of rape, you might write your honest opinion.
You might write something like: “The one year jail sentence Jones received for this rape is grossly inadequate. It is hard to imagine how someone who has caused such damage to this woman will walk free in just 12 months. Judge Brown’s sentencing decision is mind-boggling and out of all proportion to sentences by other judges for similar crimes. His appointment is up for renewal in February and, if this sentence is any indication, it is high time he retired.” This way you can express a very strong opinion within the bounds of this defence as long as you are basing your comments on a foundation of provable facts.
That is not to say that you can just say what you like and just add the clause ‘This is just my opinion’. The defence will succeed only where the opinion clearly is an opinion, rather than a statement of fact.
It must be based on true (provable with evidence) facts or absolutely privileged material (for example, parliamentary debate) stated or adequately referred to in the publication.
It must be an honestly held opinion, the subject to which it relates matter must be in the public domain or a matter of public interest, and the comment must be fair (not necessarily balanced, but an opinion which could be held, based on the stated facts).
Matters like the private conduct of a public official do not earn the defence unless the conduct affects the official’s fitness for office.
If the facts on which the opinion is based are not provable as true or not protected in some other way, you stand to lose the case. The facts or privileged material on which the opinion is based should normally appear in our piece, so the audience can see clearly where the opinion has originated and judge for themselves whether they agree or disagree with it. They can also be based on matters of ‘notoriety’, not expressed in the publication, although it is safer to include them.
The defence is defeated by malice or a lack of good faith, so forget it if you’re a disgruntled former staffer trying to take revenge on your old boss.
Do all that and you can give that pollie the serve they deserve.
Fail to do it and you could lose your house and savings.
On a brighter note, the Media, Entertainment and Arts Alliance offers its freelance members professional indemnity and public liability insurance. See the details here.
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Disclaimer: While I write about media law and ethics, nothing here should be construed as legal advice. I am an academic, not a lawyer. My only advice is that you consult a lawyer before taking any legal risks.
© Mark Pearson 2013
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