When local news dies, so does democracy

I've been a journalist
for more than 23 years,

at the "Arkansas Democrat-Gazette,"

the "Pittsburgh Tribune Review"

and most recently, "The Denver Post."

(Applause)

When I started
at "The Denver Post" in 2003,

it was among the country's 10
largest newspapers,

with an impressive subscriber base

and nearly 300 journalists.

At the time, I was in my 30s.

Any ambitious journalist that age

aspires to work for one
of the big national papers,

like "The New York Times"
or "The Wall Street Journal."

But I was simply blown away

by my first few weeks
at "The Denver Post,"

and I thought,

"This is going to be my paper.

I can make a career right here."

Well, seven years passed,

we were sold to a hedge fund,

Alden Global Capital.

Within a few years --

(Laughs)

(Laughter)

Some of you know this story.

(Laughter)

Within a few years,

buyouts ordered by past and present owners

would reduce the newsroom by nearly half.

And I understood.

The rule of thumb used to be

that 80 percent of a newspaper's revenue

came from pricy print ads and classifieds.

With emerging giants like Google
and Facebook and Craigslist,

those advertizing dollars
were evaporating.

The entire industry was undergoing
a massive shift from print to digital.

Alden's orders were to be digital first.

Take advantage of blogs,
video and social media.

They said that one day,

the money we made online would make up
for the money we lost in print.

But that day never came.

In 2013, we won a Pulitzer Prize

for covering the Aurora theater shooting.

Alden ordered that more
journalists be cut.

Again,

and again,

and again,

and again.

We were forced to say goodbye
to talented, hard-working journalists

we considered not just friends,

but family.

Those of us left behind
were stretched impossibly thin,

covering multiple beats

and writing ruched articles.

Inside a windowless meeting room
in March of 2018

we learned that 30 more would have to go.

This paper that once had 300 journalists

would now have 70.

And it didn't make sense.

Here we'd won multiple Pulitzer Prizes.

We shifted our focus
from print to digital,

we hit ambitious targets

and email from the brass
talked up the Post's profit margins,

which industry experts pegged
at nearly 20 percent.

So if our company was so successful
and so profitable,

why was our newsroom getting
so much smaller and smaller?

I knew that what was happening in Colorado

was happening around the country.

Since 2004,

nearly 1,800 newsrooms have closed.

You've heard of food deserts.

These are news deserts.

They are communities,
often entire counties,

with little to zero
news coverage whatsoever.

Making matters worse,

many papers have become ghost ships,

pretending to sail with a newsroom,

but really just wrapping ads
around filler copy.

More and more newsrooms are being sold off

to companies like Alden.

And in that meeting,

their intentions
couldn’t have been clearer.

Harvest what you can,

throw away what's left.

So, working in secret
with a team of eight writers,

we prepared a special
Sunday perspective section

on the importance of local news.

(Laughter)

The Denver rebellion
launched like a missile,

and went off like a hydrogen bomb.

[In an extraordinary act of defiance,

["Denver Post" urges it's owner
to sell the paper]

['Denver Post' editorial board
publicly calls out paper's owner]

[as more layoffs take place]

(Applause)

Clearly, we weren't alone in our outrage.

But as expected, I was forced to resign.

(Laughter)

And a year later, nothing's changed.

"The Denver Post"
is but a few lone journalists

doing their admirable best
in this husk of a once-great paper.

Now, at least some of you
are thinking to yourself,

"So what?"

Right?

So what?

Let this dying industry die.

And I kind of get that.

For one thing, the local news
has been in decline for so long,

that many of you may not even remember

what it's like to have
a great local paper.

Maybe you've seen
"Spotlight" or "The Paper,"

movies that romanticize
what journalism used to be.

Well, I'm not here
to be romantic or nostalgic.

I'm here to warn you

that when local news dies,

so does our democracy.

And that should concern you --

(Applause)

And that should concern you,

regardless of whether you subscribe.

Here's why.

A democracy is a government of the people.

People are the ultimate source
of power and authority.

A great local newsroom acts like a mirror.

It's journalists see the community
and reflect it back.

That information is empowering,

seeing, knowing, understanding,

this is how good decisions are made.

When you have a great local paper,

you have journalists sitting in
on every city council meeting.

Listening in to state House
and Senate hearings.

Those important, but let's face it,

sometimes devastatingly boring
comity hearings.

Journalists discover the flaws
and ill-conceived measures

and those bills fail
because the public was well informed.

Readers go to the polls

and they know the pros and cons
behind every ballot measure

because journalists did
the heavy lifting for them.

Even better,

researchers have found
that reading a local paper

can mobilize 13 percent
of non-voters to vote.

Thirteen percent.

(Applause)

That's the number that can change
the outcome of many elections.

When you don't have a great local paper,

voters are left stranded at the polls,

confused,

trying to make their best guess

based on a paragraph of legalese.

Flawed measures pass.

Well-conceived but highly
technical measures fail.

Voters become more partisan.

Recently in Colorado, our governor’s race

had more candidates
than anyone can remember.

In years past,

journalists would have thoroughly vetted,

scrutinized, fact-checked,
profiled, debated,

every contender in the local paper.

"The Denver Post" did it's best.

But in the place of past levels
of rigorous reporting and research

the public is increasingly
left to interpret

dog and pony-show stump speeches

and clever campaign ads

for themselves.

With advertizing costing what it does,

electability comes down to money.

So by the end of the primaries,

the only candidates left standing
were the wealthiest

and best-funded.

Many experienced
and praise-worthy candidates

never got oxygen.

Because when local news declines,

even big-ticket races become pay-to-play.

Is it any surprise that our new governor

was the candidate worth
more than 300 million dollars?

Or that billionaire businessmen
like Donald Trump and Howard Schultz

can seize the political stage?

I don't think this is what
the Founding Fathers had in mind

when they talked about free
and fair elections.

(Applause)

Now this is exactly why we can't just rely
on the big national papers,

like "The Journal"
and "The Times" and "The Post."

Those are tremendous papers,

and we need them now,
my God, more than ever before.

But there is no world
in which they could cover

every election in every county
in the country.

No.

The newsroom best equipped
to cover your local election

ought to be your local newsroom.

If you're lucky and still have one.

When election day is over,

a great local paper is still there,

waiting like a watchdog.

When they're being watched,

politicians have less power,

police do right by the public,

even massive corporations
are on their best behavior.

This mechanism that for generations
has helped inform and guide us,

no longer functions the way it used to.

You know intimately what the poisoned
national discourse feels like.

What a mockery of reasoned
debate it has become.

This is what happens
when local newsrooms shutter

and communities across the country

go unwatched and unseen.

Until we recognize
that the decline of local news

has serious consequences for our society,

this situation will not improve.

A properly staffed
local newsroom isn't profitable,

and in this age of Google and Facebook,

it's not going to be.

If newspapers are vital to our democracy,

then we should fund them
like they're vital to our democracy.

(Applause)

We cannot stand by and let
our watchdogs be put down.

We can't let more communities
vanish into darkness.

It is time to debate
a public funding option

before the fourth estate disappears,

and with it, our grand
democratic experiment.

We need much more than a rebellion.

It is time for a revolution.

Thank you.

(Applause)