Local news is changing, but its mission endures

There was a time not so long ago when, if citizens wanted to know what was happening in their communities, their go-to source was the local paper.

Not because it was as dopamine-inducing as scrolling through social media or as dramatic as a bingeable TV show. Most days it was neither. But it was where the details of local life accumulated. It shared information about the zoning hearing that ran three hours longer than expected, the debate over a school budget, the announcement of a new business. That reporting created a public record of communities and how they changed over time. It informed residents, empowering them to get involved in their neighborhoods and helping them feel connected.

Some places, like the greater Riverdale area, still benefit from the presence of a local paper. However, across the United States, that kind of coverage is steadily disappearing. Where it still remains, it looks different than it once did.

The decline of local news did not happen all at once. It occurred gradually, in increments sometimes too small to notice. But lately, the alarm bells have grown louder. Papers large and small are reducing their staff. Even the nationally recognized Washington Post recently laid off more than 300 employees, including so many talented reporters. Others are cutting back the number of days they print, or like the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, ceasing print operations completely. Some, like the 240-year-old Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, are closing entirely.

For readers, these shifts may manifest in ways that seem inconsequential. Maybe the reporter who used to attend local council meetings is no longer there. But what disappears with that reporter is not just a few headlines. Their community loses valuable insight and one of the most effective avenues for holding their officials accountable.

Local journalism functions as an essential kind of civic memory. It records who argues for what at a school board meeting, how a municipality decides on a new project, why a development proposal passed or failed. These stories create a public record of decisions being made. They let readers know how their community functions. When those stories vanish, the decisions do not stop, they just become harder to see and understand.

The economic explanation for journalism’s decline has become familiar by now. Advertising moved online. Print circulation declined. Social media and online information platforms created demand for large amounts of quick content that many local outfits couldn’t keep up with.

One of the most marked shifts in the media landscape is that human attention has moved. In today’s online world, we can follow events unfolding across the world in real time, refreshing our phones for constant updates from cities thousands of miles away. In many ways, the immediacy of digital media is beneficial. Frequently though, the constant stream of headlines can create anxiety. It is also now easier than ever for misinformation and division to spread via online channels. Meanwhile, in a growing number of local news deserts, news that directly impacts residents’ day-to-day lives passes by without necessary media attention.

This imbalance can be disorienting and discouraging. It is becoming increasingly common to know more about distant conflicts and national political drama than we know about the institutions that shape our communities.

Recently, The New York Times began running an advertisement on its podcasts urging listeners to “just subscribe to a real news organization with real journalists doing firsthand, fact-based reporting.” When one of the most successful national newspapers encourages people to support journalism elsewhere, it suggests that something fundamental in the information ecosystem has shifted.

Despite constant changes, shifts and downsizing, the current portrait of local news isn’t all doom and gloom. Student reporters and nonprofit local news organizations have been rising to the occasion, filling reporting gaps across the country. Newsrooms are experimenting with new storytelling techniques and technologies to better connect readers with the stories they need to know about.

The changes in the media landscape are far from over. Reporting and distributing the news looks far different than it did a decade ago, and will likely look different still in another decade. Some things, however, remain unchanged.

At The Riverdale Press, the work continues much as it always has: attending meetings that run long into the evening and asking questions about decisions that shape our neighborhoods. As strong local journalism becomes simultaneously more rare and more important, our reporters remain steadfast in their calling to produce facts-first, fearless reporting.

To call on what is by now perhaps a cliche journalism adage coined by humorist Finley Peter Dunne, our goal remains to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.

The context may be changing, but the mission is not.