"We've all heard that a million monkeys banging on a million typewriters will eventually reproduce the entire works of Shakespeare ..."
"... Now, thanks to the internet, we know this is not true."* A letter from the editor
Launching an online local newspaper in 2024 was always going to be something of a challenge. The business model at this level remains broken. Advertising revenues have long been gutted, paying readers are few and far between and production costs for quality journalism often far outweigh any revenue such stories may generate.
The digital media landscape is complicated – multifaceted. Think algorithms as gatekeepers, personalities as the media and metrics as the end. It’s also incredibly fragmented, with readers, viewers and listeners spread thin across multiple channels and platforms. It’s easy to get lost in this cluttered environment, even more so when you consider the never-ending volume of content that is produced daily by everyone from individuals to FTSE 100 companies.
Like capitalist excess, this current phase of the information age has come to be defined by overabundance. Unlike the real world, the internet is, to a degree, limitless. It encourages us to be profuse. We’re emboldened to create and consume as much as we can – and we do. Some of it is good, meaningful and entertaining. Most of it is junk. A lot of it is dangerous, with an astonishing amount of dis- and mis-information regularly flooding our screens with its nebulous shit.
Even the opposite of the short-form is problematic. We can all celebrate longer, more detailed and thoughtful stories, essays, articles, documentaries and interviews ( across text, audio and video) while also being critical of of the kind of long-form output that has become extremely popular in recent years, especially on the right: rambling, partisan and conspiratorial conversations (in the main) that give voice to and amplify very questionable individuals and ideas (to put it politely).
In this climate, facts are no longer sacred, the truth is bent to fit a particular narrative and professional standards are diminished or entirely absent as breadth and depth has given way to commercial superficiality and what is the equivalent of late-night pub talk that slips through the cracks of sensible, measured, accountable regulation.
Regardless of the form, whether it’s print, digital or a mix of the two – we like to think of ourselves as an online newspaper with print sensibilities – these are undoubtedly difficult times to be a local news organisation, let alone a new entrant. Whether the unique set of challenges we face is any worse than those experienced by previous generations is a more complicated question to answer. Each has faced its own exceptional crises.
What’s different, perhaps, what makes it significantly difficult – maybe more so than at any other time in the past – is the way in which the devastating combination of declining revenues and the explosive growth (and accessibility) of content has made it harder to deliver truly independent, story-led journalism at a local level. Ironically, the closer you get to your community, the harder it seems to get. That’s the local newspaper paradox of the far from roaring 2020s.
Yet we remain resolute, inspired, undeterred. Ambitious. We don’t want to be like everyone else. Part of the rat race. Purveyors of industrial-scale shallow news. We want to be different. Slower. More attentive. Original. We want to take our time to produce stories that make a real difference, stories that hold power to account, stories that remind people of the joy of reading and the impact that words can have. That’s the kind of day-to-day world we want to be part of.
There’s still a very, very long way to go before we get anywhere close to where we want to be, but, for now, there’s much to be cheerful about as we celebrate our first anniversary (with some handy context).
We’re still in the black (mainly because we’ve been, for good or bad, overly frugal, financially risk-averse). We’re growing (which is great, but it’s at a painstakingly slow pace). And we’ve stayed relatively true to our word – to provide a better, slower alternative to the way local news is reported and experienced in Ilkley and beyond (while acknowledging that we’ve also invested in shorter stories to keep ourselves front and centre in between the bigger pieces).
Sustainable local news is possible. The likes of Mill Media and The Bristol Cable, for instance, are spearheading a renaissance in an alternative and far better kind of offering, while organisations like the Public Interest News Foundation continue to use their power, influence and expertise to support local news organisations and fight on our behalf. The rub is the journey getting there. It’s not an easy one.
But we can. With your support. Because without it, we’re just an idea, an ambition, a labour of love. All admirable qualities, of course, but not enough to keep the proverbial lights on as we continue down that unpredictable road into the foreseeable future. Let’s avoid that. Instead, let this be the early, formative days of The Ilkley Journal, the beginning of a long and transformative history that endeavours to deliver for the greater good.
To help make that happen, please do consider signing up as a paid supporter here. We’ve knocked a massive 65% off the regular price, too. That’s our birthday gift to you (it works out at around just £2 a month). When you sign up, you’ll be doing more than bagging a bargain. You’ll also be playing a direct role in helping make quality local journalism a reality.
Cheers to that, cheers to you and cheers to the future.
*Attributed to Robert Wilensky