Mission Control

What are we trying to do, and who are we doing it for? And why does it matter?

I was told, a long time ago, that journalism’s role was to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.” It’s a nice tag line, and I’m happy to say we live up to that ideal with some regularity. But that’s only one part of our mission. We also give people information to help them make better choices in their lives; we help build communities; we keep them up to date on the latest happenings; we bring them ideas and opinions; we hold power to account on their behalf; we explain the complexities of the world to them. Or at least we try.

And to do all that, we also work to stay afloat. That’s not as easy as it sounds, and it’s been getting steadily harder, not least as AI increasingly intermediates information. And that will force us to make harder choices about the tradeoffs to keep operating.

Much ink has been spilled on Gen AI’s existential challenge to journalism’s existence, and it’s an important discussion. Sometimes the debate is framed around the dangers of AI slop and misinformation flooding the world; sometimes it’s framed around the conviction — hope, really — that people will always want human-created narratives; sometimes it’s framed around getting AI companies to compensate news organizations for our work.

Mostly it’s framed around us.

And I get that. Who is going to worry about us, if not us? And it is true that journalism plays a critical — arguably essential — role in the functioning of societies and democracies.

But we’re not the only element — perhaps not even the most important element — in the public information ecosystem. And it’s important to ensure we distinguish between two discussions — one on the survival of journalism, and one on ensuring a healthy public information landscape.

Just as medicine is only one part of a functioning public health system, journalism is only one part of a thriving public information system. Doctors are, not unreasonably, focused on keeping their profession afloat; luckily for us, there are ministries of health and think tanks and other bodies that look at other elements of the public’s health, such as nutrition and education and places to exercise. And, to be sure, doctors — at least some of them — do engage in broader questions of public health.

In the public information space — and in a world where information is increasingly intermediated by AI systems — the critical questions go beyond journalism to issues about who controls the interface with users, and how the AI systems are instructed. There are multiple other elements, of course, not least the sources of information that those systems draw on, and who adjudicates what is and isn’t true, or credible.

Much of this may well be beyond any individual journalist’s ability to affect in any meaningful way. Or even the news industry’s. But these are critical questions for society, and unlike in public health, we don’t generally have ministries of information — at least not ones we trust — to grapple with these questions.

Meanwhile, we’re mostly focused on our own survival. We’re, not unreasonably, looking to see if we can extract more revenue from AI companies, or plotting moves to migrate to what Tony Haile calls “archipelagos of trust” — pockets of high-end, human-created content that will attract loyal followers, or building plans to build revenue streams around in-person events. All of this makes sense, and may even ensure those newsrooms survive and thrive.

But that’s not the same as ensuring the public information infrastructure is robust and healthy.

Is it our job? And if it isn’t, whose job is it?

Whoever’s job it is, we ought to worry about it; and take an active hand in trying to find solutions.

I’m not suggesting we abandon our efforts to preserve journalism in favor of building a better information ecosystem; but it’s important to remember that there are two jobs to be done, and that robust journalism by itself isn’t the same as robust public information.

We’re right to focus on our knitting; but we should also be engaging more fully with the broader debate — and not just clamoring for better or more regulation but actively exploring how we could help foster a healthier ecosystem.

Some of the solutions to our woes may not help the broader ecosystem; deeper personalization of news — which I champion — can also mean the creation of filter bubbles of one and the fracturing of shared narratives; paywalls — which I also support — can offer financial stability at the expense of serving poorer parts of the community.

Those tradeoffs may not be bad ones; but they are tradeoffs.

And there aren’t easy answers to any of these questions. I certainly don’t have any good ones, and I’m just as focused on strategies for keeping newsrooms afloat as anyone else. But there are paths we can explore, such as whether surfacing multiple perspectives — similar to the experiment I’ve built — can help dissipate filter bubbles. Or whether embracing personalization and other AI tools can superserve historically underserved communities.

More broadly, it’s important not to conflate how well we do with how well the public does; and to devote some part of our efforts towards finding ways to serve society’s information needs better. That’s the end goal; journalism is just the path to get there.

I get asked, every now and then when I’m on a panel somewhere, what we need to do to ensure AI doesn’t take away journalists’ jobs. My stock response — which I grant is overstated (and strangely doesn’t make me popular among my peers) — runs like this:

“We’re not in the business of saving journalists’ jobs; we’re not even in the business of saving journalism per se. We’re in the business of saving information in the public interest.”

Or we should be.