Pay to Play, or Give Us Money and We Don't Break Your Legs

I had a pleasant conversation with the ad guy from a radio station the other day.

We talked about the state of the industry (doing great, he says), and how things are going at my non-profit.

Eventually, the discussion got around to advertising, and whether we would be buying any anytime soon.

We might, I told him. We are researching possibilities for next year. We might want to buy some ads.

Just another typical conversation with an ad guy—right?

Well, it was until he left.

That’s when he suggested that future news coverage of my agency might be dependent on us buying advertising.

“It costs a lot to keep a radio station on the air,” he said.

Now, to be fair, he never actually threatened that the news department would stop running stories about my agency if I didn’t buy ads.

But he definitely left the implication hanging in the air.

At least he wasn’t as bold as an ad guy from a church publication a few years ago.

In an e-mail, he detailed how many stories his publication had carried about my organization, and how much it would have cost me to buy that space.

“I certainly do not wish to threaten you with negative consequences,” he said at the end of his e-mail—doing exactly that.

But, he went on to say, “with all relationships there are expectations and demands, giving and taking.

“Would you be pleased with our relationship if you paid for 50+ ads over five years and in return we ran only a 200-word briefly noted article?”

I replied by noting that while it was true we got valuable space, the publication didn’t have to pay the salary of my communications officer who wrote the stories, or the costs of sending her to Africa and across Canada to get the stories, or the salaries of those who assisted her in writing the reports.

It was a fair exchange, in other words—we gave them news they didn't have to pay for or write or even collect on their own.

If anything, we probably paid more for the privilege of being in his publication than they gave us in news space.

Now, I understand where the two ad guys are coming from. It’s a very challenging media environment these days.

And I am not unsympathetic to their plight. Print publications, in particular, are dying.

But pay to play by buying ads? That seems to be pushing a new edge for me, at least.

To be clear, I’m not talking about sponsored content. That’s space paid for by an advertiser that is clearly marked as having been purchased.

This is more along the lines of extortion: Pay up and we don’t break your legs.

It’s probably not the last time this will come up. As the media grows more desperate for revenue, I’m sure I will get more opportunities to pay to see my content published.

And threats if I don’t.

(Anyone else have experiences like these?)

I Am No Longer A Subscriber to the Winnipeg Free Press. (I'm a Member)

I’m no longer a subscriber to the Winnipeg Free Press.

No, I didn’t cancel my subscription. My daily (printed) newspaper still comes to my house every day.

Instead of being a subscriber, I’m a member.

That’s what editor Paul Samyn told me, and all the other former subscribers, in a special column in June.

“For the past 144 years, we have looked at our readers as customers,” he wrote.

“But it’s time to see those who invest their time and their dime to read the Free Press as much more than that. We need to treat them as members, because paying to read the Free Press — on a smartphone, desktop, tablet or in print — means you are part of something much bigger than the word 'customer' can capture.”

I was reminded of my changed status today by another note from Paul in the Nov. 5 edition of the Free Press.

In it, Samyn describes the difference between a subscriber and a member.

“At one level, both relationships involve an exchange of money for access to the stories we deliver in print and online,” he writes.

“But when someone is a member, there is a deeper attachment that involves a sense of belonging.”

The Free Press, he admits, hasn’t done a very good job making subscribers—er, members—feel that sense of belonging.

“Unfortunately, we haven’t always done enough to make clear how important the community of readers is to us,” he says.

“For too long, the stories we produced were the end product of our business, not the start of something deeper. If we are going to thrive in this new media environment . . . that has to change. And that change starts now.” 

And what is driving that change? 

Money.

Says Samyn: “Our business model has always depended on revenue from readers, but never more so than today; the dollars that once flowed from advertising have become digital dimes online and mere pennies on mobile.”

Future growth, he says, will come “from the slow but steady uptick in people now paying to read us online.”

The challenge, he adds, is that there is so much information available for free—why pay?

That’s where membership comes in.

According to Samyn, we should want to pay to be members because of the important role the Free Press plays in the community; because we realize quality journalism costs something; and because we “realize a strong community needs a dependable source of focused, independent journalism.”

A few thoughts on Samyn’s comments.

First, I agree with Samyn. Good journalism is important, and someone should pay for it.

Second, the idea that readers are most important to newspapers (or other media) is a new view of that world.

Until now, advertising was the name of the game. That’s how newspapers made their money. Circulation, at best, only managed to pay for the paper and ink.

True, readers and viewers counted insofar as the larger the number, the more they could charge for ads.

But we were otherwise mostly irrelevant to the media experience.

This was something John Stackhouse noted in his book Mass Disruption: Thirty Years on the Frontlines of the Media Revolution.

In the book, he noted that the downturn in advertising has put power into the hands of media consumers—something that not all journalists welcome.

Until now, the media believed that it—not readers, viewers and listeners—should decide what was newsworthy.

What they need to deal with, Stackhouse states, is “the fact they no longer controlled the reading experience.”

That's a big change. Before, the ups-and-downs of circulation might not have mattered much.

But it matters a whole lot more now.

Third, while I agree with Samyn, I’m not so sure a younger generation will.

In a world where news is free, why pay for it?

Plus, their interest in the world might not be high enough to keep the Free Press in business.

That’s what I found out when I asked a class of 20 or so university students how many read the Free Press, in print or online.

Only two hands went up.

If that's the future, the Free Press is in trouble.

Finally, this thought. The Free Press is suddenly a lot like the kind of work I do as a fundraiser.

I spend my time trying to think of ways to connect with donors, to make them feel like they belong.

Some in my international NGO sector will disagree, but the business we are really in is the customer service business. Or, as we call it, donor relations.

If donors don't like how we treat them, or they don't feel they are being heard, they will leave and take their money with them.

And then we will go out of business.

This is something Samyn understands.  

He quotes Jeff Jarvis of the Tow-Knight Centre for Entrepreneurial Journalism at City University New York about the role of the journalists in this new modern news ecosystem:

"If our role as journalists is to help communities better organize their knowledge and themselves, then it is apparent that we are in the service business and that we must draw on many tools, including content, and place value on the relationships we build with members of our communities, which will also take many forms. Thus, we are in the relationship business."

And that’s why I am no longer a subscriber to the Free Press.

I’m a member.

The "Domestification" of Church Giving, or More Challenging Times Ahead for Church-Related National and International Agencies

A friend attended a Canadian church conference last week. He posted the following during the event.

“A survey of 1,400 respondents that shows that congregational budgets are clearly reflecting a 'domestification' of priorities.”

A day later, he sent out another post.

"The secularization of Canadian society has caused most pastors in the survey to view the funding of international witness as a misallocation of funding. We funded international mission to the neglect of our own neighbourhoods."

“Domestification” is a new word. But it aptly describes what fundraisers at many church-related NGOs already know: More Canadian churches are keeping money at home and sending less to agencies that work overseas.

One main reasons for this is that churches have caught a vision for helping their neighbours—a good thing.

In this, denominations must accept some of the credit—or blame.

For decades they encouraged their churches to respond to local needs, to do mission at home.

Good news! Churches caught that vision. For this, denominations can be grateful.

But there's also bad news. The dollars churches used to send to denominational agencies for national and international programs is being kept at home to support food banks, homeless shelters, kid’s clubs and many more important things.

Ideally, churches would want to support good work at home and abroad. But when money is tight, the first place to be cut is funding for outside agencies and work far away.

And for many churches, money is tight these days.

Added to this is the immediacy and strong personal connections that result from addressing local needs.

When money is given to an international agency, it goes far away. The only way to know if it made a difference is when the agency sends back a report—which may or may not come and, if it does, may come months or longer after the donation was given.

Contrast that with supporting a local project. Givers can see the results right away. 

Better yet, they can be personally involved, too. This is something that is increasingly hard to do with international agencies.

(And for good reason, I might add—it's much better to employ local experts to operate programs than unskilled Canadian volunteers.)

Local projects don't pose those constraints; almost anyone can be involved. This provides a strong emotional connection for donors—they can meet the people being helped, personally hear their stories, and maybe even become friends.

Another reason for greater interest in local needs maybe growing mistrust about international relief and development work.

There are too many stories about waste, misallocation of funds and corruption in the media, such as about the Red Cross in Haiti.

Scandals like this are the exception, but they receive a lot of attention—and negatively colour the work of all NGOs.

When money is kept closer to home, it is easier to track it and make sure it is spent well.

Then there is just general donor burnout; needs in Africa, Haiti, and Syria go on-and-on without end. 

When someone has only a few dollars to give, maybe it's better to give locally and see some progress, if only in a small way.

Personally, I am not unhappy to see churches responding to local needs—that’s a good thing. Denominations should celebrate it.

But for international church-related NGOs, and other national and international agencies, it means more challenging times ahead.