Re:filtered #11: When we leave the Club

Welcome to the 11th edition of my monthly newsletter on civic media opportunities in a moment of systemic disruption.

This month is about preparing for what comes next and embracing a more grounded vision of journalism's future.

Last month, I challenged our field's flair for self-serving sanctimony and focus a bit more on the real market for information out there. I got a ton of responses, many kind, some critical. All probably informed by election results, not just in the United States.

To those critical, I'd like to offer another, personal angle:

For a few years, my happy place in Hong Kong was the Foreign Correspondents Club. It was a privilege to have access to such a space – one I remain aware most journalists in the city didn’t have. If you have read Le Carré's Honorable Schoolboy, you may have a mental picture of what kind of people that place has attracted (some may say it’s a medley of hacks, spies and crooks; although the venue has since changed. It's in a beautiful 19th century setting in Central.)

You would find me there nearly every morning, exercising and having breakfast before heading to the newsroom, or meeting friends, hosting sources, students, and visitors after work. I loved it.

It offered a sense of belonging to a guild of writers, a group that had weathered the various crises of the moment. The building dated to 1892, and the club to 1943. No matter how hard it was to get by, the building told all this work that felt ephemeral would outlast current challenges.

It was also a place of comfort that was otherwise scarce for a poorly-paid reporter. Its status and comfort felt like a tangible affirmation of the work's value, a respite from its constant pressures.

That may have been wishful thinking. While the club continues to exist, the freedoms Hong Kong had enjoyed have largely vanished. The ideals I had projected onto it have been gradually sapped, and in all likelihood this situation will remain for a long time.

The pen isn't mightier than the sword – a lesson learned repeatedly by journalists across contexts, from local reporters facing political pressure in their communities to newsrooms struggling against economic forces to maintain their independence. Those august institutional walls, whether of a prestigious club or an established newsroom, offer no protection when fundamental freedoms erode.

The club now represents for me a past era in which journalists sought and found purpose, influence and validation through institutional markers of prestige. For me, it was the FCC, but these symbols of belonging take many forms across our profession – the press pass that opens doors to corridors of power, the prominent byline in a respected masthead, the camera position at press conferences, the anchor desk broadcasting to thousands of homes during dinner hour, the speaking slot at journalism conferences, the awards. Each offers its own form of affirmation that what we do matters.

We have found comfort in these professional sanctuaries and symbols of influence. Our words and images have reached from TV screens to taxi radios to newspapers in convenience stores. We have felt part of something larger than ourselves – a respected institution that shapes public understanding. But that influence has proven fragile, and is diminishing. Publications I wrote for have vanished. Others have fatally compromised their independence trying to preserve that status. Many have simply faded into irrelevance as audiences moved elsewhere.

In retrospect, it all now seems inevitable, but lessons can still be learned for what's to come: I won't consider capital J Journalism an institution anymore.

The capitalized version may work in an ideal-type democracy, in which the natural emergence of journalistic voices influencing a free electorate forces a political class to preserve freedoms and work toward greater and fairer economic prosperity for all.

But most places are moving farther away from that ideal-state. This trend won't be reversed or mitigated by clinging onto the comforts of past power structures or their performative mannerisms. 

Treating journalism like I have as the Fourth Estate, an institution on par with the others, is increasingly ineffective, or worse, risks being subservient to anyone cynical and cunning enough to capture the other three estates. (What's the point of regurgitating another Putin denial?)

Clinging onto elite status means perpetuating systems that have gone bad. And defining oneself in opposition to them may be equally futile. What is the point of becoming operators, or even martyrs, of an ineffective craft? There has to be another way.

We've been maintaining relationships with power structures when we should have been building relationships with people. This realization isn't defeatist, it's a call to action that is gradually taking root and entering the mainstream.

It's a change in strategy and outlook toward an entrepreneurial mindset that I've found to be energizing, and actually, so much more fun (a good listen on this is the latest episode of Peter Kafka's podcast Channels about the media startup 404 Media.)

In a conversation with media funders earlier this month, someone wondered what this shift would mean for the definition of journalism, and whether it needed to evolve. I didn't have a quick answer. If I could go back in time, I'd say this:

It may require a shift from a primary definition of journalism by format (print, podcast, social-first ...) or by activities (reporting, editing, ...) or by content or topic (climate, solutions, ...) to one of service: Help people navigate their lives better with information. That simple.

While broad, such a definition opens up all kinds of new opportunities in terms of what journalism could be and look like.

It's an expansive framing that avoids the pearl-clutching passivity of an exclusive club in a colonial-era building. It is both civically-minded and entrepreneurial, so much more exciting. It's about doing, building, selling—about competing on utility in a marketplace of time and attention. Information can be helpful functionally or psychologically.

From this viewpoint, we would no longer be "holding a line", defending something that clearly no longer works, or pleading to the platform broligarchs to distribute our oh so precious work.

Here are three practical implications for moving forward:

First, we must stop waiting for the cavalry. There is no "international community." No one from high and above is coming to save journalism, or really anything. No global court of justice or international pressure will ever restore press freedom somewhere where it has been lost to autocracy. We need to build a case for an informed citizenry from the ground up.

Second, funding needs to shift in terms of which ventures get support: from topical funding ("coverage of X issue" so that the "public" may be informed) to information service funding. Support structures that serve communities, not just produce "content" about them.

Third, and most importantly, we need to truly embrace a theory of service, and not a theory of change in preserving the skills of journalism. These remain unchanged: critically and empathically observing, discovering, understanding, conveying.

Rishad and Alan at Splice Beta earlier this month had a great slide that guarantees them an eternal mention in my own workshop decks:

“The strongest media businesses understand that people don't seek out journalism for the sake of journalism," they said. "They buy ways to solve problems, improve their lives, painkillers, status, to feel important or seen.”

Such meaningful service can be created in many journalistic forms, from data to gatherings to prose. If we can get ourselves to call any service that helps people navigate their lives better with information to be Journalism, a lot of people will benefit and the capital J craft stands a chance of thriving.

A concrete example: I recently got to meet some amazing data journalists who shared how they had been struggling to make their case in legacy newsrooms. There would be so much potential unlocked if the starting point of such collaborations from the newsroom's side was rooted in a quest for utility to its readers (e.g. price or service quality tracking, etc.).

The same goes for storytelling, interviewing, writing, editing, etc. and all the skills that have been perfected by journalists over decades. This industry appears to have just for a moment forgotten that formats have no power beyond their habituated consumption, and platforms don't pursue long-term altruist goals. The skills persist.

The challenge lies in redirecting these well-honed skills toward genuine utility rather than getting stuck in institutionalized, performative practices. This shift is particularly difficult because for decades, journalism schools have been promising to generations of aspiring practitioners including myself a tantalizing combination of self-expression ("I report about what is – I find to be – important!") and public service ("the public needs to know!").

How would anyone want to let go of that, especially when the price of this pursuit—in tuition costs, personal psychological and physical sacrifice, and professional risk—has often been so high.

In my strategy workshops over the last year, the sessions on audience research and articulating value propositions have always been the ones that participants have wrestled most with.

For years, we didn't need to think hard enough about our relevance. Digital platforms gave us an easy way to reach audiences, even if those metrics were often misleading. Audience development practices remain rooted in tactical optimization. But now that partnership is over. We'll have to build new connections with less money and fewer resources than before. At least we now have clarity.

Don't get me wrong, I would love to return to the FCC for another leisurely read of the papers over breakfast, or to have a drink at the bar. Many old friends who I deeply respect are members. I just believe that the odds of returning one day will go up if we can make this transformation happen.

The tension between institutional power and public service in journalism isn't new. When Thomas Carlyle first referenced the "Fourth Estate" in 1840, he wasn't describing an elite institution, but rather the democratizing power of public discourse outside of the elite.

His understanding resonates today in the work of journalists who have already embraced service-first approaches: the data journalists working on making, for instance, wet market hygiene levels accessible to their communities; the independent reporters building direct relationships with readers through newsletters, Discord servers, messaging groups, and meet-ups; the community radio hosts creating spaces for belonging in cafes; the bookstore owners and librarians.

These manifestations of Carlyle's democratic vision show how journalism's strength lies not in institutional status but in its ability to exist in and serve the real lives of real people—a power that far exceeds that of any institution.

"But does not, though the name Parliament subsists, the parliamentary debate go on now, everywhere and at all times, in a far more comprehensive way, out of Parliament altogether? Burke said there were Three Estates in Parliament; but, in the Reporters' Gallery yonder, there sat a Fourth Estate more important far than they all. It is not a figure of speech, or a witty saying; it is a literal fact,—very momentous to us in these times. Literature is our Parliament too. Printing, which comes necessarily out of Writing, I say often, is equivalent to Democracy: invent Writing, Democracy is inevitable. Writing brings Printing; brings universal everyday extempore Printing, as we see at present. Whoever can speak, speaking now to the whole nation, becomes a power, a branch of government, with inalienable weight in law-making, in all acts of authority. It matters not what rank he has, what revenues or garnitures. The requisite thing is, that he have a tongue which others will listen to; this and nothing more is requisite. The nation is governed by all that has tongue in the nation: Democracy is virtually there."

The path forward begins by shedding both the comfort and burden of institutional status. If we can embrace our growing irrelevance as an opportunity – it frees us to experiment boldly with new ways of helping people navigate their lives better with information.

Looking back

November was a whirlwind month. In Taipei, I got to reconnect with old friends and meet new ones, thanks to David at the China Media Project who graciously hosted a conversation on "carving space for journalism's future". (my slides).

Heng Yu Chien with CMP interviewed me for his fascinating newsletter 田間, in which he tracks changes to the Chinese-language media landscape. He also kindly runs Chinese translations of this newsletter, smartly translating "civic media" as 公民媒體.

At Splice Beta in Chiang Mai, the theme this year was hospitality. It was energizing to see how Alan and Rishad curated the program, and learn from them and everyone there. My slides along with other speakers' are up on the conference site. I particularly recommend Anita Lee’s slides on how she operationalized a CRM.

Back in New York, I discovered Hush Line as a simple, secure and anonymous tip line service. Watch Glenn Sorrentino present it at the State of the Onion. To give it a spin, you can leave me anonymous feedback on my instance.

I updated the nerdy social platform protocols map that I shared here a few months ago, because this eternal debate—whether "online life is real life"—kept coming up on all the media podcasts. Of course, it's real.

We spend significant parts of our social lives in these spaces, governed by protocols that mirror the constitutions of political systems: from traditional platforms operating as the absolute fiefdoms (think centralized control, no real user rights) to newer decentralized confederacies (think real user rights, but also responsibilities and complexities).

Each model shapes our experience through its unique approach to content persistence, economics, and moderation. We have a choice about which governance models we participate in – which digital citizenships we take on. It's worth thinking about these choices beyond just reach and convenience.

For those who've been jumping onto Bluesky lately, you're choosing a (potential) commonwealth that gives you greater agency and control. Find me at @pboehler.net. 

If you're wondering how Bluesky's protocol compares to ActivityPub, here's a helpful technical comparison (h/t Ben Werdmuller). I am mindful of Bluesky’s current lack of federation, but I wanted to highlight the potential in terms of what that could look like in the future.  

I'm writing this newsletter in Warsaw after a few days of teaching and mentoring Central and Eastern European publishers. In one session we called "beyond borrowed audiences", my former colleague Ali Mahmood, now with Zinc, and I workshopped with a smart group of media thinkers how to respond strategically to the fragmentation of search engines and social platforms. I was impressed by the clarity that came out of the team projects. No self-serving blah, no pleading for reach. That gave me a ton of hope.

Big thanks to Ali, and to Peter Erdelyi from the Center for Sustainable Media for having me. I met some wonderful media thinkers, and learned a few lessons on entrepreneurial ingenuity. I have found a ton of joy and energy in coaching and teaching. More of it next year, hopefully.

Looking ahead

My December is going to be busy but less travel-intense with lots of project work and preparations for the new year.

If you're going to Taipei for RightsCon in February: You may have heard that I'm planning some side gatherings with some good like-minded people, let me know if you're going, and interested.  

Finally, a request: Kaleidoscope, a Russian exiled provider of mirror sites providing access to blocked media websites, is running a survey to understand the biggest pain points of such services. 

If that's also part of your work, consider sharing your experience in English or Russian. They promised to share results with respondents who provide their email address at the end of the survey.

That's it for me this month. Thank you for reading.

Your support – whether via coffee or email or an introduction to someone who could be interested in this work – makes it so much more meaningful.

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This article was made possible by a grant from the International Elite Club for the Preservation of Institutional Status (IECPIS) and the Global Foundation for Professional Pedestals (GFPP).

It generated zero institutional validations, three invitations to join prestigious committees that don't actually do anything, and one meaningful conversation with a real human being about their information needs.

This newsletter may contain traces of actual utility to readers. Those allergic to journalism that serves real people should consult their institutional ego before proceeding.

No mahogany club furniture was harmed in its making.