There’s an awful lot being said at the moment about the death of newspapers in general and the death of regional and local newspapers in particular.
For anyone working in local journalism, none of this is new. The circulation figures of local papers have been falling for three decades.
A generation ago, the Bristol Evening Post would sell maybe 120,000 copies on a good day – that was the equivalent of one for every single household in the city! Now it’s a good day if the Post hits 50,000 sales.
But that’s not why the Post and the Western Daily Press sacked almost a third of their journalists and admin staff recently.
For many years, the local papers were protected from the decline in sales by the big fat cushion of advertising.
The big regional newspaper groups – Northcliffe, Trinity Mirror, Johnston Press – have all deliberately followed strategies in recent years of building local monopolies. That way, no other firm was getting any local advertising spend, and they could charge whatever rates they thought they could get away with.
Local journalists are being sacked now – Northcliffe recently got rid of almost 1,000 across the whole country – because the advertising which allowed them to safely ignore declining sales for years, is drifting away. This is a process which recession has only accelerated.
The papers made their biggest money from three things – house ads, job ads and car ads. That advertising is now going off to the web, and it’s never coming back. Consider: you want to buy or rent a house. Do you:
a) Pay 37p for the local rag and struggle through pages and pages of adverts looking for the sort of places that might be of interest, or,
b) Go online for free, go to various specialist property websites, tap in the locations you want, the price you can afford and any other special requirements and wait a few seconds for the results?
Among journalists it’s usual to blame boardroom short-termism and greed for the catastrophe which now faces the industry. And it is true that the management tend to be over-promoted sales people rather than journalists, because they were the ones making all the money until recently.
It was huge amounts of money, too; the regional groups tried to run profit margins of between 20% and 30%. That is, about a quarter of all the money they handled was profit. The widely-loathed supermarkets, by comparison, operate on margins of well under 5%.
However, it is also true that the hacks took their eyes off the ball.
Back in the heyday of evening paper sales, the world was like this:
A working man would finish his day-shift at the factory. He would get on his bicycle to ride home. He would stop at the newsagents and buy a packet of cigarettes and the local evening paper, which he would then read at home while his missus cooked his tea.
The world is a completely different place now. Now there are no factories. The working man will drive home, he won’t stop at the newsagents because he can’t park there, and he doesn’t smoke anyway. And when he gets home it’s like as not his turn to make the tea because the partner (to whom he’s not necessarily married) works full-time as well.
And yet, the local papers still read like they do 30 years ago. The only difference is colour printing.
The tragedy is that most papers persist in thinking of their readers as being overwhelmingly white, working class and over the age of 50. And that tends to become self-fulfilling.
This doesn’t mean that local newspapers are completely doomed, but it does mean that they have to change as radically as our lifestyles have in the last 30-40 years. For example, it might mean focusing on a middle class readership (as they’re more likely to read papers in the first place and they’re desirable for niche advertisers), or it could mean using modern marketing techniques to focus your paper very precisely on the 10%-20% of local people who are active in civic life through volunteering, campaigning, politics and/or community work.
As a card-carrying, paid-up member of the National Union of Journalists I’m supposed to say that cuts in journalism and the death of local papers is bad for local democracy.
Well it is, but things have been pretty bad for a long time. Back in the bad old days, local hacks usually enjoyed a cosy relationship with councillors and council officials. It’s much more stand-offish now but the difference is that the potential corruption of the old boy network has been replaced by the potential corruption of press officers and lavishly-funded PR departments.
Just as the Evening Post and Western Daily sackings were being announced, Avon & Somerset Police were advertising for media relations officers. At salaries of between £27 and £29k. Nice work. Especially if you’re used to the sort of crap money that local papers pay. All of those posts could well be filled by some very happy ex-Post journalists.
Soon every ex-hack in town will be working in corporate or public sector PR, all of them competing to feed stories to an ever-dwindling number of journalists. This is bad because busy hacks are often put under pressure to cut and paste press releases into their copy. There was even one case recently where the Post ran yet another uncritical story about local creationist theme park Noah’s Ark Zoo Farm and forgot to remove the PR contact details at the bottom of the story.
Actually, the Post is absolutely not the worst offender here. The worst is BBC Bristol, where they have a huge newsroom and lots of resources, but every day serve up press releases from Bristol City Council, Avon and Somerset Police and Bristol University (in that order) as “news”. Bristol is very, very poorly served indeed by the BBC.
From the apostles of the new digital age we hear that bloggers will fill the gap, and they’ll actually hold power to account better than the old media. This may be true, but it hasn’t really happened yet.
In Bristol, a number of bloggers including James Barlow, Chris Hutt, the Bristol Blogger and a few others are doing a splendid job of probing into what exactly happens down the Council House.
But that’s just the Council House. Bristol City Council has a pretty good website which makes a lot of information freely available to those with the patience and persistence to grind through it. This is good for democracy, but while the Council is central to a great deal of what happens locally, it’s nowhere near the whole story.
So for example the South West Regional Development Agency’s workings and budgets remain as opaque as ever. It takes a lot more work to pin down the misdeeds of this vast, free-spending quango.
Or what about Bristol University, for example, an old, fabulously wealthy institution which owns some of the best real estate in the city, which employs 5,000 staff and has a turnover of £260m. Most of this is public money. This is not to suggest that anyone there is guilty of anything – aside from the occasional amusing act of idiocy by some drunken Hooray – but it would be bloody hard to find out if they were.
And that’s before we even begin to wonder about big business.
At the moment, it feels as though we’re in the worst of both worlds. Our local paper is being destroyed by historical forces, while a confident alternative is not yet in place.
Let’s ruminate on what this alternative should look like in the coming weeks.