Rich Skrenta, Co-founder & CEO of Topix.net, this week offered a
smackdown of highly publicized "citizen journalism" initiatives, inspired by his visit to the API Media Center's recent We Media conference:
"The problem is that the hopes that Dan Gillmor raised for the media industry in his book -- which kicked off this whole business -- have largely failed."
He supports this claim, in part, with a link to Tom Grubisich's work on OJR. (Which, FWIW, is the way I found Skrenta's piece. Always check your referrals, through Google Analytics, Technorati or even your log files, to find the conversations where your site's work is playing a part.)
I don't agree with such a blanket dismissal, but it's Skrenta's next assertion that set me off:
"By implicit definition, participatory media is non-commercial. If it's commercial, someone owns it, and it's not 'we' anymore."
Sorry, but I can't swallow that. Readers do not care how we make the sausage. If they find smart, fresh, engaging information on a website, they hang around. And where readers gather, advertisers want in.
Readers participate in a website because they want the value from content that a website with thousands of correspondents can provide. Sure, if readers think a publication is out just to sell ads, and not serve them, those readers eventually go elsewhere. But that's true for staff-written publications as well.
Ultimately, the decisive issue is not a site's commercial status. It is whether readers feel like they are getting more from the website than they are giving to it.
When a community is really clicking, participants will not only accept its commercial status, they will embrace it. They will want to see its owners succeed, because that's the best insurance that the site will remain alive for the community. And they, in turn, will support the advertisers who support their gathering place. From huge sites like Slashdot to smaller ones like my wife's violin site, I have read many websites built on reader-contributed content which have made money for their publishers.
Why have so many of the communities that Skrenta cited failed to attract readers and money? Again, readers don't care how we make the sausage. They are looking for a place to express their passion about a particular topic or community. They don't care to be the lab rats in our experiments on story reporting technique.
But that hasn't stopped news publishers from putting the medium before the message. How many newspapers have started lame blogs, podcasts or video features simply because some higher-up thought they needed blogs, podcasts or videos on their website? Same goes for "citizen journalism" sites. Readers smell this stink and click instead to genuine websites, built by people out of passion -- not fashion.
As one of my grad students said, "No one cared about a printing press until someone put a Bible on it."
Skrenta also wrote:
"Businesses aren't about ideology, they're about getting a job done and earning revenue to keep the thing going. Even wild success tends to leave ideology behind. Ideology is the realm of nonprofits and failures."
Now, we're getting closer to agreement. Publishers need to quit fussing over the ideological purity of their reporting process ("CitJ is our savior!" "CitJ is a threat!") and instead recommit to demonstrating a passion for their readers' interests, and committing to the most appropriate methods to gather and publish the information that those readers need.
Do that, and your readers truly will not mind if you make a buck in the process. Heck, they'll probably be rooting for you to.
Responses:
From Andrew Schrock on February 17, 2007 at 1:23 PM
I'd agree with "yes" but with a few caveats.Firstly it seems that for a conference working with the idea of "we" they operated exclusively rather than inclusively, while Skrenta attaches certain ideological values to the concept.
Business and participants both want online communities to succeed, but for different reasons. Business wants to make a profit, while people want to express themselves and share. These goals aren't necessarily exclusive, but individuals and business controls different types of power in the online system. Because they exist tenuously there is the perception, especially in light of failed ventures, that it's impossible to combine the two.
If you're going to profit by providing services to a community, you need to listen very closely to what they see as valuable. Or, paraphrased, now one big question to many is how to properly monetize online groups without scaring them off. This is very specific to each community, and is a balancing act: pre-roll or post-roll ads before playing video? Ads or subscription? etc. Because there are so many choices in online media, users can quickly migrate away from your site if you make the wrong decisions.
Take the case of Friendster's update feed snafu. Many saw the addition of basically a running ticker of what actions a user had performed as violating a certain unspoken tenet of Friendster. Members perceived their personal space was invaded and the image of the company suffered. This situation could have easily been avoided.
Businesses can capitalize on the "farm team" of pub media, but is this anything unique to grassroots media? And, say a citizen journalist crosses over to business and achieves success in that world as Skrenta describes; using this as evidence that pub media and business worlds can't coexist is a tautology. The fact is they do co-exist and many individuals are varying degrees between "amateur" and "professional."
Ideology can doom a venture. But if the intention of the group is to foster genuine social change or relate to niche groups, people may very well care "how we make the sausage." Authenticity is important in this case. However, I'm very cynical of the capacity for most online media models (successes like kiva aside) to foster social change the way many utopists see it.