Kim Hollamby and the relationship between magazines and websites

Last week IPC’s Kim Hollamby provided an insightful take on the relationship between a magazine and its website. It’s a conundrum that’s had me wondering for a while now: do you replicate the print version’s content word for word, offer a sample of enticing nuggets from the paper copy to encourage people to go out and buy it, or publish an entirely different selection of stories, thus reaching out to a larger audience?

Kim’s answer was that you should not replicate the entire publication, but focus on one element and do that really well (eg Country Life on property). I’m not sure if this would work with all magazines, many of which are popular because of the breadth of material they contain – it would look lazy.

One of my pet hates is websites which are full of promising teasers that take you to a page saying ‘For the full story buy our magazine’ – the ‘no such thing as a free lunch’ approach. Maybe it’s because the editor thinks if their content’s all online, people won’t bother buying the mag. I beg to differ: there’s nothing quite like the wonderful tactility of my sumptuous new papery-smelling, glossy-paged Traveller.

Personally I think the magazine industry needs to look to newspapers, which are miles ahead on this issue. They should embrace multimedia enrichment through complementary video – for example, how about footage of the preparation for a big photo shoot, which we multi-skilled Cardiff kids will be more than able to assist with…

Richard Burton: Journalistic Businessman

Richard Burton, managing director of the Jewish Chronicle and former editor of the Telegraph online, believes that print is not dead. Is it just me or is this statement less groundbreaking than it sounds? I think the online module has (unintentionally?) given us an exaggerated faith in the omnipotence of web-based news, and Burton’s assertion only reinforced my print-shaped question mark. Sure, newspaper circulation’s decreasing, but the UK’s 17 million non-liners would be pretty unimpressed if their paper boy no longer had anything to deliver.

But of course, the web is generally speaking the way forward, and Burton of all people is perfectly aware of that (just check his CV).

Print/online debate aside, something didn’t sit right for me with this lecture. Burton was at pains to state that he wasn’t a businessman, yet his job is undeniably business-oriented. In a marked contrast to the ‘accuracy over exclusivity’ mantra of the BBC, Burton’s priority while at the Telegraph was breaking news first.

Two examples he offered particularly struck me. Apparently, when 9/11 happened, his team were “literally changing facts as [they] knew them.” And even worse (particularly for a ‘serious’ paper) was the Kylie story: when it was announced that Minogue would begin chemotherapy, he knew that this wasn’t big news (“Well of course she’s being treated, they’re not just going to leave her to die,”) so they ran the story with a ‘career in pictures’ add-on. Why? Because most of their readers are 35-year-old male office workers.

Is such cynical decision-making really the only option for commercially successful journalism?

Charles Reiss: Telling it like it is

Today I am feeling pleasantly refreshed. No, I haven't had a massage, a walk in the park or a stiff G&T (yet) – alas, I have been at uni. However I have been left inspired and contemplative, both of which are rather unusual experiences on Friday afternoons.

Charles Reiss, former political editor of the Evening Standard, opened his guest lecture by (somewhat jovially) taking us through some statistics detailing how, unsurprisingly, journalists are at the bottom of the pile in terms of public trust, scoring a measly 19%. Newspapers specifically fare even worse, with just 6% of people trusting what they read in them.

So how do we rectify the situation? What we really need, Reiss declared, is truth: truth breeds trust.

The suggested methods through which to achieve this?

1. An end to spin

But, Reiss pointed out, spin can be extremely beneficial to journalists – it gives them some great stories and can serve them and the public just as well as it does politicians. He added, “‘Truth not spin’ is a false antithesis. In fact I used to go to Alistair Campbell and say, ‘Spin me spin’.”

2. On-record briefings

Well these already happen, and if you’re working on a major article you’re hardly going to ask about it in a room full of other blood-thirsty hacks. In fact, Reiss expanded, off-the-record journalism is often the best kind, and leads you to the most ground-breaking stories.

3. Clear rules for the publication of public information

Don’t these already exist too, both through the law and through industry standards?

4. More resources for online and regional communications

Of course this is a nice idea but, dare I say it, fairly obvious and perhaps a little idealistic. Journalists need to make the best use of the resources they’ve got – if this means they can’t check whether a story is true or not, then they shouldn’t publish.

Unsurprisingly, despite being a member of the group that put forward these suggestions, Reiss readily conceded that none of these solutions would get even close to the heart of the problem. Furthermore, when asked if he believed these targets would ever be achieved and consequently produce an enhanced public trust in journalism, he answered “No no, it’ll never happen, it’s just an ideal.”

Reporters and politicians - can they be too close?

Reiss’s frankness was probably what endeared him to us, the eager yet cynical-beyond-our-years students. The second part of the lecture was devoted to an exploration of the relationship between reporters and politicians. He told us how, through years of building contacts, he managed to develop some extremely reliable sources who, without explicitly detailing new stories, had enabled him to break some major news pieces in his years at the Evening Standard.

But more interestingly, Reiss explained that it was exceptionally dangerous to get too cosy with your most trusted sources. “You must bite the hand that feeds you – have a row with your contact at least once every six months!” he urged, giving examples of various people he’d done the dirty on over the years but explaining that mature politicians not only understood but respected that this was a necessary part of a professional journalistic relationship.

In a bold move, Reiss went on to assert that most politicians are doing the best they can. ‘You what?’ we all thought; ‘But wasn’t he a political editor?! Don’t journalists have to hate politicians by definition?’ Well, no, actually. The precise point that Reiss was making is that, yes of course, politicians get it wrong sometimes, and that can make for a better news story. But the vast majority of them genuinely are in the job to try and do some good.

Don’t worry though – Reiss hasn’t gone soft on us. He was at pains to emphasise that he wasn’t suggesting journalists should become tame, or lose their sense of mischief and irreverence, or (when necessary) their scorn for politicians who are doing wrong. Thank God! While I’m a great fan of impartial and accurate journalism, I don’t think I’d fancy reading a newspaper that didn’t take a certain perverse pleasure in outing the unpopular MP having an affair or the government report with incorrect figures.

A trip down memory lane and into the future

So why did I find this lecture so refreshing? Well pretty much everyone else who has come in to speak to us has primarily focused on the internet, multimedia platforms and user generated content which, while obviously hugely important to my generation of journalists, is getting a teeeensy bit repetitive. Reiss is an old-school hack who came and told us witty tales of a fading world – one in which journos wear ill-fitting suits and smoke more than Pat Butcher, where politicians and reporters have an affectionately antagonistic relationship, where you get to the top by starting in some vaguely obscure position in the middle of nowhere and slowly work your way up through your local rag to the editor of a broadsheet.

The main theme of what we’re being taught on the Cardiff course is that this world no longer exists – we are on a vocationally-based diploma which requires us to be multi-skilled with a grounding in web, audiovisual, pictorial and written journalism. The idea is that once we’ve finished we’ll start out in a pretty good position and may even be editors in five years or so.

In a sense this sounds much more appealing and, dare I say it, easier than Reiss’s journey. But I can’t help but think he gained a better training in journalism through his slow ascent up the greasy pole of the media career, making contacts the hard way, experiencing cloak and dagger scenarios in secret meeting places and getting pretty world weary along the way.

Hell, however we obtain our training, let’s just hope the public maintain enough faith in journalism for us to have a job at the end of all this.