So this is how liberty dies: with thunderous applause. – Padme’ Amidala, Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith
 
Hard to believe it’s been less than a month since I blogged about the effort by the Trump administration to demean the news media and why people must pay attention. “Discrediting the Fourth Estate is the first step toward totalitarianism,” I wrote. “Not caring is the second.”
 
In four weeks’ time, those first steps have become an all-out sprint.
 
President Trump’s bizarre, often inaccurate news conference this week—essentially an hour-plus-long attack against every news outlet that hasn’t sung his praises—was followed by his far more ominous declaration via Twitter:
 
“The FAKE NEWS media (failing @nytimes, @NBCNews, @ABC, @CBS, @CNN) is not my enemy, it is the enemy of the American People!”
 
There is your formal declaration of war, folks.
 
Of course, Trump is hardly the first president to beef about the news media. Chief executives as diverse as Bill Clinton and George W. Bush complained regularly about journalists. Richard Nixon bluntly told his Joint Chiefs of Staff “the press is your enemy” that’s eager to “stick the knife right in our groin.” Even Thomas Jefferson, early on a champion for the press, lamented in his presidential years, “Nothing can now be believed which is seen in a newspaper. Truth itself becomes suspicious by being put into that polluted vehicle.”
 
But such whining is far short of what President Trump has done. By declaring the media “the enemy of the American People,” Trump placed journalists in the same category as a wartime opponent.
 
Think about that for a moment. If we take Trump at his word—which is his expectation—the New York Times is ISIS, the Washington Post is al-Qaeda, CNN is Reagan’s “Evil Empire.” Further, Trump’s use of the term “fake” is deliberate. He is accusing the media not merely of negligence, but of a willful, calculated effort to undermine American society.
 
Thus comes the declaration of war. In Trump’s war, all patriot Americans must resist the enemy with heart and soul. Any sympathy for the enemy is treason—and in war, we know what happens to the treasonous.
 
This is where the United States of America now stands.
 
There’s a disturbing parallel. In 1933, when Adolph Hitler became chancellor of Germany, his government quickly implemented a policy called Gleichschaltung, in which every aspect of German society came under Nazi rule. Trade unions, political parties, even churches lost their independent roles and influence. And in less than a year, the Nazi government took complete control of all news outlets—a process that began with Hitler’s complaint of lϋgenpresse, or the “lying press.“
 
There’s a familiar ring in today’s America.
 
Let’s be clear: The news media aren’t always accurate. That’s especially true today, when getting a story first is more important than getting it right. So it’s essential for the news media to find the balance between speed and precision. It’s also crucial for the media to stop being played by the White House and start being champions for accountability—of themselves and of the government. That’s their role in a free society, a role that they are struggling to play effectively. If nothing else, Donald Trump has made that shortcoming plain.
 
That said, Trump’s declaration of war against the Fourth Estate, his labeling of journalists as America’s enemies, his as-yet-unspoken next step in that war, are truly frightening.

As in Revenge of the Sith, we’re in the moment of the Senate’s applause, the moment that Padme’ Amidala noted with despair.
 
What came next in that film? The death of the Jedi, and the founding of an empire.

Two questions lobbed at me this week drove home what a radically different country the United States of America has become.
 
A few days ago, I met with some high school students from a nonprofit community program. They wanted to know about my career and how they might better promote their program. I shared a few war stories—they were most interested in my Star Trek exploits—and then opened it up for questions.
 
One of the first queries was also one of the most profound: “With all that’s happening with our country right now, do you think America needs some good public relations?”
 
It was the second time in 24 hours I’d been asked about the American brand.
 
The previous day, a Canadian friend phoned me with a concern. His daughter and son-in-law are contemplating a career move to California. His question: “Should I be worried that they may be moving to a country in such turmoil?”
 
Not so long ago, I thought I’d never hear such questions. The American brand was one of opportunity, of an escape from persecution and despair, of a new beginning for building a better life. While never a perfect place, of course, America nonetheless held promise and hope found nowhere else in the world.
 
That brand isn’t merely tarnished, it’s obliterated. Left behind. In its place is something far darker, more hostile, decidedly belligerent.
 
We can blame lots of things and lots of people for the fall-off. It’s politics, yes. It’s self-centered and self-serving policy decisions. It’s internal strife, especially along racial and economic lines. It’s the false belief of exceptionalism, the celebration of greed, the might-makes-right fallacy, the conviction that we’re right and everyone else is wrong.
 
But in my experience, the biggest threat to any brand—whether a product, a business or a nation—is apathy.
 
Somewhere along the way, the United States stopped caring. It stopped caring about what was morally right. It stopped caring when evil threatened others, so long as evil kept its distance—hence the rallying cry, “America first!” And when evil came to call, America eventually stopped acting in the best interests of all and insisted on the interests of itself.
 
And the real tragedy is that, by and large, America doesn’t care anymore.
 
It was American compassion that Canadian writer Gordon Sinclair celebrated in a 1973 editorial, at a time when the U.S. was under harsh criticism for its involvement in Vietnam. “This Canadian thinks it is time to speak up for the Americans as most generous and possibly the least appreciated people on all the earth,” he wrote. I can name you 5,000 times when the Americans raced to the help of other people in trouble. Can you name me even one time when someone else raced to the Americans in trouble? … Our neighbors have faced it alone, and I'm one Canadian who is damned tired of hearing them get kicked around.”
 
One wonders whether Sinclair would pen such an op-ed today—or whether Americans would care.
 
As I’ve said many times in this space, “public relations” is not about merely delivering a message. It’s about forging relationships, about building dialogue so that we understand each other’s needs and work toward mutually beneficial results. It’s about a willingness to listen and to move together toward the collective good. That’s how progress is made. That’s the starting point for a solid, enduring brand.
 
So yes, America does need good public relations. It needs to remember that it isn’t alone, that the world counts on it to be a champion for what’s good and right. It needs to admit when it’s wrong, commit to doing better, and help others to do the same. It needs to re-embrace its image as a land of opportunity and welcome, and living out those ideals. It needs to re-engage with its compassion—for its citizens of all walks, and for the people of the world.
 
Those are the things that made America truly great. Those were the things that the world admired. And I firmly believe those things are still within us, if only we have the courage to let them out once more.
 
That was the assurance I gave to my Canadian friend—the potential to be what we were, the potential for goodness to endure, and the wise insights of people like his daughter and son-in-law to encourage it
 
“My dream is of a place and a time where America will once again be seen as the last, best hope of earth,” said Abraham Lincoln.
 
Lincoln shared his dream a long time ago. Now would be a good time to start making it real again.

Much already speckles the blogosphere about White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer’s mic-drop news conference yesterday—here’s one of the best, from PR pro and friend Matt Friedman—with much more to come following presidential advisor Kellyanne Conway’s defense of “alternative facts.”
 
What I have to say has already been said, and by people far more articulate than I am.
 
But woe to us as a nation if it isn’t said again. And again. And again.
 
The Trump administration has made it clear: The news media are the enemy, and war has begun.
 
A sad truth of human nature is that people love conflict. They’re tempted to sit back with popcorn and beer, turn on the telly and revel as President Trump disdains reporters as purveyors of “fake” news and chuckle as Spicer’s news conference—which the dictionary defines as “a formal meeting for discussion,” a definition he apparently failed to read to the end—consists of him turning a fire hose of contempt upon reporters.
 
Then there’s Conway’s threat—and that’s the only way to characterize it—that if the media continues to challenge the press secretary’s pronouncements, “we’re going to have to rethink our relationship here.”
 
Still entertained? You shouldn’t be. You should be horrified.
 
Politics has nothing to do with it. Even the most fervent Trump supporter should be appalled by these antics. Spicer insists he will hold the news media accountable, and so he should. But accountability to truth and facts, to balanced and fair reporting, is not what he and Conway are championing. What they want is the news reported their way.
 
That, folks, is known as propaganda.
 
Not every news outlet is robust in its reporting. But the moment we dismiss them all—or allow our government to do so—is the moment we stop being a free nation.
 
As in my last blog, I quote Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black: “The Founding Fathers gave the free press the protection it must have to bare the secrets of government and inform the people.” (emphasis mine).
 
That protection comes straight from the Constitution. That’s the rulebook that President Trump—and by extension, his administration—swore to “preserve, protect and defend” last Friday. It’s a protection that every journalist, every PR professional, every politician, every American citizen must vigorously defend.
 
The old saying, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” was never more true and relevant than it is today, with the destination frighteningly near.
 
Discrediting the Fourth Estate is the first step toward totalitarianism. Not caring is the second.

I have deserved my fate; for what had I to do with wings and clouds, who can with difficulty move about on the earth? – Aesop, “The Tortoise and the Eagle”
 
Aesop’s Fables are rich with lessons that resonate through the centuries, not always comfortably. In “The Tortoise and the Eagle,” a tortoise complains about her earthbound life and wishes for the power of flight. A passing eagle obliges, lifting her to the clouds, then releasing her to be dashed on the mountainside. The moral: Be careful what you wish for.
 
We’d do well to listen to this warning as the voices railing against the news media grow louder.
 
No voice is more insistent than that of the incoming U.S. President Donald Trump and his administration. Trump’s first post-election news conference was a wild mix of disdain, bluster and dismissiveness beyond anything I’ve seen in such a setting. When “Saturday Night Live” tried a satirical turn of the event a few days later, it seemed almost tame in comparison.
 
Trump is hardly the first president (or president-elect) to call out the media—in this case, Buzzfeed and CNN were the subject of his ire over alleged, unsubstantiated Russian intelligence about Trump—but rarely, if ever, has it been done with such contempt.
 
More than a few people welcome Trump’s approach. Many of his supporters believe news media have it in for him, and for the conservative/right wing in general. For them, it’s about time the press was put in its place.
 
But what should trouble all of us is the post-conference rumblings that the White House press corps is about to be displaced.
 
Incoming White House Chief of Staff Reince Priebus said the administration is considering moving future news conferences—and those who cover them—to a larger venue, such as the White House Conference Center or offsite to the Old Executive Office Building. The current locale, a short stroll from the Oval Office, would no longer serve as a place for reporters to camp out and monitor what’s happening.
 
Priebus—who made clear no decision has been made—presents this as an issue of fairness, to allow more reporters to cover news conferences. Reporters fear this is a step in the direction of limiting access to the president and his administration.
 
Given Trump’s ongoing war with news media—remember, this is the man who threatened to weaken First Amendment protection of the press—I think the reporters are correct.
 
As I’ve noted before, journalism today is in a sad state. Staff reductions, budget cuts and the hard shift toward click-bait over hard journalism have decimated the industry. In this landscape Trump has proven incredibly adept at creating the headlines and distractions he wants—and make no mistake, he knows exactly what he’s doing—with a simple, seemingly misguided tweet or two.
 
But the challenge is more than overworked and underfunded newsrooms. A large swath of the American public doesn’t trust the news media—just 32 percent, according to a recent Gallup poll. Trump himself, with a historically low approval rating of an incoming president, scores better.
 
Modern journalists need to take this seriously. I would call this a crisis, and one of the most crucial tools in a crisis is a solid, well-executed communication strategy. Yes, that’s work over and above being good, responsible journalists who ask the hard questions and hold leaders accountable. But solid journalism alone, while absolutely critical, is hard pressed to break through the loss of credibility.
 
All this said … the news media are not the tortoise in this fable. The tortoise stands for the American people who celebrate the decline of journalism.
 
“Only a free and unrestrained press can effectively expose deception in government,” wrote Hugo Black, a U.S. Supreme Court justice in 1971. “And paramount among the responsibilities of a free press is the duty to prevent any part of the government from deceiving the people and sending them off to distant lands to die of foreign fevers and foreign shot and shell.”
 
The tortoise made a thoughtless wish and paid a deadly price. Should we do likewise regarding the role of the press in American society, our fate may be just as tragic.

I confess to feeling a little smug as I texted my wife by speaking into my smartwatch. Despite the Dick Tracy image, it’s not as convenient as simply texting from my phone, but who cares? I enjoyed the admiring stares and eager questions.
 
But questions of a different sort are flying at Pebble Technology Corp., maker of said smartwatch, this week after announcing it was shutting down its business. Formed in 2012 on the heels of a $10 million Kickstarter campaign—one of the most successful ever—Pebble recruited an army of loyal followers that  now are feeling disappointed, angry or both.
 
The first rumbles of concern began in September with delayed shipments of the new Pebble 2 to backers of a new Kickstarter effort. Even those shipments were limited. When backers heard that some of the new watches were going to big box stores like Walmart, the dissatisfaction grew.
 
“Pebble, the maker of the original e-ink smartwatch, has a lot of passionate and loyal customers, and those customers are pissed,” began an article on Gizmodo. It reported on rumors that FitBit was purchasing some of Pebble’s assets and intellectual property but would not continue the brand.
 
Backers complained on Pebble’s Kickstarter page. The company largely kept quiet.
 
Finally, there was today’s announcement from Pebble: “Pebble is no longer able to operate as an independent entity. We have made the tough decision to shut down the company and no longer manufacture Pebble devices.” Kickstarter backers who hadn’t received watches will get refunds—though through Kickstarter itself, meaning several months’ wait.
 
In short, Pebble’s more recent customer engagement strategy has been discouraging to an enviable customer base.
 
Will I still be able to voice-text my wife, check the weather and track my fitness with my Pebble? Yes, for awhile, at least. Two consecutive sentences from Pebble’s website don’t instill long-term hope, though: “Fitbit will maintain services so that Pebble devices continue to work as normal. Pebble functionality and service may be reduced in the future.”
 
While this is certainly no fun for the Pebblers, another big loser in all this may be Kickstarter. It’s another high-profile example (remember Oculus Rift’s buyout by Facebook?) of the risk that goes with investing through crowdfunding. “If Pebble, one of Kickstarter’s biggest success stories, can fail so spectacularly, then why should a consumer put trust in any of the smaller crowdfunding campaigns out there?” asks Gizmodo.
 
In crowdfunding, the mantra is still caveat emptor.

Maybe you heard about the big event in sports this week, how a team in Chicago ended a century-long losing streak, stunning the sports world and touching off a huge celebration on the streets of the Windy City.
 
By the way, I’m not talking about the Chicago Cubs winning the World Series.
 
Rather, this long-awaited victory happened days after the Cubbies’ championship. Saturday’s international rugby clash at Soldier Field between Ireland and New Zealand marked the first time ever that the boys in green defeated the All Blacks. That’s 111 years and 29 Test matches.
 
The All Blacks have a global reputation as a rugby powerhouse, and deservedly so. Out of 549 Test matches going back to 1903, their winning percentage is better than 75 percent. The first time they met Ireland, on Nov. 25, 1905, at storied Lansdowne Road in Dublin, the All Blacks handed them a 15-0 defeat and never looked back. Ireland’s come close just once – a 10-10 draw in 1973 – until Saturday’s 40-29 win on mutually foreign soil before the largest-ever crowd for a rugby match in the United States.
 
Ireland is hardly an underdog in international rugby, but the narrative was a given: The All Blacks would hand the Irish their lunch as usual.
 
In fact, Ireland dominated nearly the entire match, playing an aggressive offense and a mostly drum-tight defense. At one point well into the second half, Ireland led New Zealand by 22 points; had the Irish held onto that lead – not to be, as a six-minute scoring surge by New Zealand narrowed the gap to four – it would have been the All Blacks worst international defeat in its history.
 
So, in 80 minutes of play on the pitch, the narrative was rewritten. Suddenly, the haka-wielding All Blacks are no longer indomitable. Suddenly, the Irish side is no longer ineffectual against its down-under rival.
 
Of course, the aforementioned Cubs did a similar rewrite last week, ending their 108-year championship drought in an extra-inning nail-biter. Ultimately, a well-executed, determined victory can recast the tale.
 
Such is true among organizations. A commitment to saying and doing the right thing in the right way accomplishes much in the face of naysayers. The challenge is to be consistent. It wasn’t a single play on the pitch that won the victory for Ireland. It wasn’t a storied, grand-slam homer that sealed the crown for the Cubs. It was a relentless determination to stay focused and true to their respective missions.
 
As communicators, our job is to champion the good, advocate for the right, connect with the audience and develop every opportunity to drive the narrative.

I sat well within the you’ll-ruin-your-eyes zone of the TV set, volume turned down to a near-whisper, all so my mother wouldn’t realize I was up past my bedtime. When she did, the conversation would go something like this:
 
“You’re supposed to be in bed, mister!”
 
“But Mom, the show’s almost over! Can’t I watch till the end? Pleeeeaase?”
 
A long silence, a scowl … then, if I was lucky and otherwise infraction-free, a reluctant surrender. “I suppose. But you’d better get right up for school in the morning!”
 
I would, and without complaint. Star Trek was that important to me.
 
One of television’s – indeed, America’s – great cultural icons turns 50 years old today. It was on this date in 1966 that the starship Enterprise sailed majestically across TV screens for the first time. Star Trek told the tale of a spaceship and its crew exploring the galaxy in the far future. It was serious science fiction, a far cry from the campy Lost In Space and many other genre productions of the era.
 
Star Trek was an expensive and risky venture for NBC and Desilu Productions, one that would die a relatively quick death after three seasons – and then endure in countless forms into the next century.
 
My love affair with Gene Roddenberry’s creation began around 1970, when Star Trek reruns went into syndication. I was eight years old. My family was an early adopter of cable TV, so I watched the adventures of Captain Kirk, Mister Spock, Doctor McCoy and the Enterprise crew in crisp, glorious color. As the opening theme played, my heart would surge with those first musical notes and the voice of actor William Shatner proclaiming, “Space … the final frontier.”
 
The show captured my imagination like nothing before. And the timing couldn’t have been better, as I was just starting to connect with the joy of writing. I soon began penning my own Trek adventures. These first efforts were the usual boyish fare – space battles, explosions, phaser fights. But as I grew, the deeper themes of Star Trek struck other, more thoughtful chords. I began to explore those ideas as well, far beyond the Trek universe, but always with Star Trek as my muse.
 
As much as I loved Trek, it was also a catalyst for darker events. My schoolmates neither understood nor supported my obsession, and their disdain was a daily burden. At times I stepped away from Trek, judging the pain too much to bear. But always I returned to that ship and crew; something about the show kept calling, nurturing, urging me to boldly go.
 
By the 1980s, Star Trek was a reinvigorated success on screens large and small. (To date, Trek has spawned six TV series [a seventh is due on CBS next year], 13 films, thousands of books, magazines, comics, games, conventions and much more.) Likewise, the writer within me emerged in young adulthood – first as a journalist, then as corporate communicator. In years to come, I would pen many short stories and articles, three novelettes and a full-blown novel, as well as episodes of an online science fiction anthology.
 
And then, in the summer of 2012, I lived a dream that my eight-year-old self, huddled next to that TV, could never imagine. I sat in a perfect recreation of the Enterprise bridge, watching as a script I wrote was turned into an independent fan production of Star Trek. I confess: I shed a tear when that first scene was shot.
 
The experience would happen again a year later with my second episode. And the year after that with my third. And the year after that with my fourth.
 
I still shake my head in disbelief when I think about it. Because of Star Trek, I lived the impossible – just like the Enterprise crew.
 
What is it about Star Trek that makes it so captivating?
 
I’m often asked this, and my response is usually three-fold. I tell people Star Trek has endured because it signified hope for the human race at pivotal moments in our recent history. It invites us – and even fools us – to face our biggest issues as a society, issues we’d otherwise ignore. And it has the capacity to tell great, timeless stories that resonate with our storytelling civilization.
 
But for me, there’s still more to it. It’s also an issue of timing and inspiration. Star Trek beamed into my psyche at just the right moment to set the course for my life – and I’m forever grateful for it.
 
“Second star on the right, straight on till morning.”

Most people know the old English proverb, “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Yet we see time and time again how organizations base their PR strategy on wishing the problem away. In that case, walking is the least of their worries.
 
Witness the ubiquitous FAQ. Every organization does them, usually ahead of a media interview or important stakeholder meeting. I’ve drafted my share of them over the years, and it amuses me how often a lawyer would review it and scratch off a question or two. “We don’t want to get into that” was the usual response when I pushed back.
 
Somehow they failed to understand that deleting the question in an FAQ didn’t mean the question wouldn’t be asked. Out of loyalty to my client, whom I wouldn’t leave hanging when the question arose, I often ignored the lawyer’s advice.
 
Here’s a (sadly) more common example of the Wishful Thinking Strategy: disregarding news on social media. I suspect this is a leftover from the days when social media was mostly limited to favorite songs and the latest crush ruminations on MySpace.
 
Social media is far more sophisticated today. Whole businesses have been destroyed by it. Yet in recent weeks I’ve seen an organization pilloried online and decline to engage the conversation.
 
Not every question or issue needs the all-hands-on-deck response—ask me about the “trapped deer on the six o’clock news” story sometime—and trolling is usually best handled at arm’s length. But hoping a serious issue will simply go away isn’t effective PR.
 
When an issue arises and you choose not to speak for yourself, someone else will speak for you. And you’ll likely wish they hadn’t.

As a steady reader of public relations resources, I often run across articles describing how much journalists despise PR people. (This one, for example.) Some of it is understandable; many are the tales of PR misfires that earned a reporter’s wrath – like this recent disaster.
 
What isn’t discussed as much is how often the feeling is mutual.
 
The intro to a piece I read this week went like this: PR pros’ animosity toward members of the Fourth Estate ranges from mild disdain to unbridled contempt.
 
Wow.
 
Methinks the intro was drafted as clickbait; the article itself, while interesting, wasn’t so provocative. Even so, the topic caught me by surprise.
 
I’ve worked with a lot of reporters over a lot of years. Most have been great to work with. Sure, I’ve dealt with my share of jerks, but such folks skulk through journalism and PR no more than they do through pawn shops and smoothie kiosks at the mall.
 
In this era of newsroom downsizings and clicks over content, I have deep sympathy for journalists’ daily (and often thankless) burden. A chronic dislike seems neither fair nor productive.
 
Whatever side of the fence you’re peering from, we need to better understand what the other person requires and how we might benefit each other.
 
For the media part of my work, it’s my job to know what reporters want and how my client’s story might fit. In other words, it’s not about simply getting “good news” for my client, but uncovering the elements that have meaning to the news media and their audience. That’s a better outcome for everyone, including the client – and especially in a crisis situation, where responsiveness, transparency and a shared commitment to accuracy are crucial to informing the public and preserving a company’s reputation.
 
Perhaps the hate on journalists comes from PR pros who lack the fortitude to tell a client when a story isn’t newsworthy. In that scenario, the reporter becomes a barrier to making the client happy. And when the client isn’t happy, neither is the PR pro.
 
Yet I see it as our profession's responsibility to be that honest. Yes, I will do everything possible to find the pieces that are newsworthy, that resonate with the media and the target audience. But if they aren’t there, I have to make that plain. Is that a fun conversation? Nope. But it’s the right thing to do. No good for anyone – least of all the client – comes from the futile attempt to bully a reporter into making a story out of something that isn't.
 
The simple fact is this: PR pros and reporters need each other. Let’s release our prejudices and peeves, embrace a little empathy and work together to accomplish our respective missions.

For an institution with serious trust issues, the news media still has plenty of supporters willing to gather and ask what the hell is happening.
 
Journalism has struggled for years in the face of industry consolidation, new technologies and declining revenues that decimated newsrooms. The hometown daily has all but vanished. Electronic media remain, though their immediate nature limits the broader, thoughtful analysis, the public forum and the community record that were once the hallmarks of local journalism.
 
For consumers, there’s a nagging sense that we’ve lost something precious, and we aren’t sure what will take its place. That’s the starting point for a conversation.
 
“Breaking The News” attempted just that.
 
The event drew about 60 people—journalists, communicators, marketers and other interested folks—to hear from a panel of media experts about the state of local journalism. Held May 19 at Western Michigan University’s Fetzer Center, the gathering was sponsored by InterCom, an association of communication professionals.
 
The panelists were Sarah Hulett, assistant news director Michigan Radio (NPR); Michael McCullough, executive editor and content strategist, Battle Creek Enquirer; Andy Robins, news director, WMUK (NPR); Paul Schutt, co-founder, Issue Media Group; and David Zeman, senior editor, Bridge Magazine. The panel was moderated by Anna Clark, Midwest correspondent for Columbia Journalism Review.
 
“Breaking The News” sparked a robust discussion. I can’t do justice to the many insights shared, but here are a few takeaways:
 
Print can’t be the primary source for news anymore. It’s too expensive, less efficient, and it rarely has the staff and budget to do it well. “Those days are gone, and they’re never coming back,” said Robins. He added that his radio station is trying to fill the gap by investing in its news department. Still, Robins admitted that radio and TV can’t cover the news as deeply as a well-staffed, resource-rich newspaper could.
 
Local news gets covered, but it’s harder to find. Where once you could pick up your hometown daily and get all the local, state, national and world news you wanted, as well as analysis and community perspective, now you must look to multiple vehicles—broadcast outlets, online tools, magazines, forums, and yes, the local newspaper. Schutt pointed out that the relationship between media and consumer has become transactional. That said, McCullough welcomes the competition. “When you talk about the impact of new technology, it’s introducing competition to journalism that used to be the norm,” he said.
 
No money, no news. Like it or not, local journalism depends on a steady stream of revenue. It might be nice to click on a link and read a story for free, but newsrooms can’t run forever on an empty stomach. That reality is prompting much more interaction between the news and business sides of media. What was once a wall between them has become, by necessity, “more like a four-foot fence where the neighbors can talk,” said Clark. The two sides are searching for ways to monetize their work—a solution that the industry as a whole hasn’t yet fully developed.
 
Competition and funding challenges can create ethical conflicts. Choosing what and how to cover news is dictated by more than just its perceived newsworthiness. Michigan Radio’s Hulett warned that outside funding sources bring agendas that require a careful journalistic balance. In a previous blog, I shared my own conflicted feelings about sponsored content in news media. And there’s the simple fact that few media have the resources to cover everything worth covering. The future will continue to put news outlets in an ethical and business balance that’s constantly wobbling.
 
The biggest risk to local journalism is the loss of its community connection. That’s already happened in some places. Schutt noted the emergence of “news deserts” in communities across the country—a trend that’s on the rise, prompting some governments and groups to take advantage of the lack of news oversight, said Clark. Added McCullough, “That connection to your community is the strongest, most important thing you have. I guard it jealously.”
 
The future remains a question mark. What didn’t get addressed at “Breaking The News” was where this is headed. There were hopeful signs—increased resources for some outlets, innovative approaches to connecting with community and providing thoughtful analysis. But uncertainties remain—the struggle to generate revenue, the continued contraction of newsroom staff, the focus on clicks over meaningful news. I’m hoping this will be part of the next panel discussion, slated for Aug. 25.
 
Perhaps the most promising part of the event was the shared desire by so many for a strong Fourth Estate, and a heartfelt commitment to seeing that happen.