Nieman Lab.
Predictions for
Journalism, 2024.
Let’s just assume for a moment that all of the hullabaloo about UFOs is real. Yes, I’m talking about unidentified flying objects, or what some now call UAPs (unidentified aerial phenomena). Let’s say that there are indeed alien life forms darting around, studying us human beings, trying to figure out what drives our behavior and decisions.
If they read our news, which us journalists like to think is a reality-based business, it’s likely these other life forms would come away concluding that human beings are rather shitty animals. Our negativity bias and the business incentives driving it push what we consider “newsworthy” into the categories of what’s wrong and who is terrible, and spotlight the crisis du jour.
Were I one of those aliens, I’d be tempted to decide this planet might be far better off without those horrible humans.
I’m hoping, though, that these life forms, unlike us humans, are able to grasp the full picture. I’m hoping their perception of who we are and how we endure is actually viewed through a clear lens of daily reality, not the warped reflection that news casts. If they did, there’s no doubt they would clearly discern humanity’s strongest but most under-leveraged asset…an undeniable fuel powering our bodies, families, communities and work that rarely gets mentioned in the news: Love.
They’d recognize that beneath the anger and pain at every protest covered was love — love for people who were taken, or not given a fair shake, or for a world they know is possible. They’d see that horrible acts committed by public figures were, in fact, driven by an absence of love — a hungry ghost that the person could not feed in a healthy way. They’d see that humans’ power to persist and to make progress despite incredible odds against them throughout our history was thanks to accessing that infinitely renewable resource of love.
There is one journalist I know who is actually able to see these love stories and is working to document that reality. Jos Duncan Asé is a former IT worker turned documentary filmmaker turned media entrepreneur who founded Love Now Media and is catalyzing the growth of Philadelphia’s media entrepreneurial community. (Full disclosure: I’m a board member of Love Now Media — not a paid position.) And I’m inspired to write this prediction because of the power of what Jos is able to see, and what I predict others will start to see once they start looking for it.
In their own words, Love Now Media is “on a mission to help create a more just, well, and equitable future by amplifying acts of love at the intersection of social justice, wellness, and equity.” You might be rolling your eyes here thinking: “This doesn’t sound like journalism.” Jos is used to that response, and she understands it. After all, disruptors tend not to be invited into the fold. But it hasn’t stopped her from finding people, foundations, and communities to support her growing media empire.
Jos knows journalism, despite not being formally trained as a reporter. She’s spent years documenting the pain and heartache around her through films and bringing communities together to discuss, learn, and make sense of current events. It took a horrific act of journalism from another news outlet to flip her lens from seeing the world through pain to recognizing the love stories in the margins. She and her family witnessed her cousin being gunned down by police during a chase that was broadcast on live TV and packaged as “news.”
The immense pain and trauma brought about by that news’ stations harmful attempt at “informing the community” kept Jos from returning to the kind of reporting that focused on what’s wrong. That was warped, and not a true reflection of reality. Jos says, “There were love stories happening in between the lines of what the media was capturing.” Her mission became clear, manifested into a media company, and is transforming the way others feel empowered to report. Example reporting includes covering protests through a lens of love, like this video featuring organizer Tarana Burke (filmed years before the #MeToo movement took hold), topics such as “incarcerated fathers loving their children,” and personal essays like “How Social Pressures Fuel Black Men’s Fear of Vulnerability.” There’s rigor applied to this work — fact-checking, editing, ensuring fairness and accuracy. But she’s showing people what else is news and newsworthy, and not in a “feel good Friday” kind of segment. She recognizes love as the fuel for radical change.
Journalist and author Amanda Ripley has spoken about her idea of shifting newsroom beat structures to universal emotional states, rather than topics. What if newsrooms had a “fear and loneliness” beat? What might we gain in true understanding and the ability to act if we had reporting on the understory, the “why” of what is happening, and we didn’t just stop at the surface details?
This is the kind of journalism I’m aching for, that recognizes the role of emotions in everything we do. News avoidance continues to grow because of the inability for newsrooms to pull away from the 10-mile pileup of horror and tell a more well-rounded story of our times, or to focus on solutions journalism and other productive means of information exchange and empowerment.
The thing is: We have the control to change what we see, and what we choose to report on. This isn’t a decision made by platforms or third parties. This shift can happen within your own mind, heart, and practice. And within your newsroom, too.
You might be worried about the derogatory framework of the stories that get lumped into what’s often called “soft news.” But it’s actually the hardest thing to do — to be open to the depth of emotion and bear witness to another’s story and not just focus on the “what.” People who are able to do this kind of work have emotional maturity, inner resourcing, and a superpower that isn’t recognized or rewarded by most newsrooms. And in the process of reporting, they actually improve the lives of those they are reporting on through how they show up, the care they take, the deep listening they do, and the more accurate reflection they paint in the reporting.
I was lucky to be part of an experiment this year that included a few dozen journalists alongside folks in other fields to explore the concept of “care” in the practice of journalism. From this Care Collaboratory, stewarded by jesikah maria ross, we created this resource called “Take Care, Make Care: Dispatches from the Future of Local News Care Collaboratory.” It’s an entry point for any journalist who is vibing on what I’m laying out in this prediction.
So, back to those aliens monitoring and hovering around the periphery. If only to save ourselves from alien extermination, and at the risk of sounding unfit to call myself a journalist: I propose we add the lenses of love and care to our reporting goggles, so that humans and other life forms can see reality more accurately.
As jesikah maria ross says, “Care is love made practical.” 2024, and American democracy calling for a metric shit-ton of practicality.
Jennifer Brandel is the CEO of Hearken.
Let’s just assume for a moment that all of the hullabaloo about UFOs is real. Yes, I’m talking about unidentified flying objects, or what some now call UAPs (unidentified aerial phenomena). Let’s say that there are indeed alien life forms darting around, studying us human beings, trying to figure out what drives our behavior and decisions.
If they read our news, which us journalists like to think is a reality-based business, it’s likely these other life forms would come away concluding that human beings are rather shitty animals. Our negativity bias and the business incentives driving it push what we consider “newsworthy” into the categories of what’s wrong and who is terrible, and spotlight the crisis du jour.
Were I one of those aliens, I’d be tempted to decide this planet might be far better off without those horrible humans.
I’m hoping, though, that these life forms, unlike us humans, are able to grasp the full picture. I’m hoping their perception of who we are and how we endure is actually viewed through a clear lens of daily reality, not the warped reflection that news casts. If they did, there’s no doubt they would clearly discern humanity’s strongest but most under-leveraged asset…an undeniable fuel powering our bodies, families, communities and work that rarely gets mentioned in the news: Love.
They’d recognize that beneath the anger and pain at every protest covered was love — love for people who were taken, or not given a fair shake, or for a world they know is possible. They’d see that horrible acts committed by public figures were, in fact, driven by an absence of love — a hungry ghost that the person could not feed in a healthy way. They’d see that humans’ power to persist and to make progress despite incredible odds against them throughout our history was thanks to accessing that infinitely renewable resource of love.
There is one journalist I know who is actually able to see these love stories and is working to document that reality. Jos Duncan Asé is a former IT worker turned documentary filmmaker turned media entrepreneur who founded Love Now Media and is catalyzing the growth of Philadelphia’s media entrepreneurial community. (Full disclosure: I’m a board member of Love Now Media — not a paid position.) And I’m inspired to write this prediction because of the power of what Jos is able to see, and what I predict others will start to see once they start looking for it.
In their own words, Love Now Media is “on a mission to help create a more just, well, and equitable future by amplifying acts of love at the intersection of social justice, wellness, and equity.” You might be rolling your eyes here thinking: “This doesn’t sound like journalism.” Jos is used to that response, and she understands it. After all, disruptors tend not to be invited into the fold. But it hasn’t stopped her from finding people, foundations, and communities to support her growing media empire.
Jos knows journalism, despite not being formally trained as a reporter. She’s spent years documenting the pain and heartache around her through films and bringing communities together to discuss, learn, and make sense of current events. It took a horrific act of journalism from another news outlet to flip her lens from seeing the world through pain to recognizing the love stories in the margins. She and her family witnessed her cousin being gunned down by police during a chase that was broadcast on live TV and packaged as “news.”
The immense pain and trauma brought about by that news’ stations harmful attempt at “informing the community” kept Jos from returning to the kind of reporting that focused on what’s wrong. That was warped, and not a true reflection of reality. Jos says, “There were love stories happening in between the lines of what the media was capturing.” Her mission became clear, manifested into a media company, and is transforming the way others feel empowered to report. Example reporting includes covering protests through a lens of love, like this video featuring organizer Tarana Burke (filmed years before the #MeToo movement took hold), topics such as “incarcerated fathers loving their children,” and personal essays like “How Social Pressures Fuel Black Men’s Fear of Vulnerability.” There’s rigor applied to this work — fact-checking, editing, ensuring fairness and accuracy. But she’s showing people what else is news and newsworthy, and not in a “feel good Friday” kind of segment. She recognizes love as the fuel for radical change.
Journalist and author Amanda Ripley has spoken about her idea of shifting newsroom beat structures to universal emotional states, rather than topics. What if newsrooms had a “fear and loneliness” beat? What might we gain in true understanding and the ability to act if we had reporting on the understory, the “why” of what is happening, and we didn’t just stop at the surface details?
This is the kind of journalism I’m aching for, that recognizes the role of emotions in everything we do. News avoidance continues to grow because of the inability for newsrooms to pull away from the 10-mile pileup of horror and tell a more well-rounded story of our times, or to focus on solutions journalism and other productive means of information exchange and empowerment.
The thing is: We have the control to change what we see, and what we choose to report on. This isn’t a decision made by platforms or third parties. This shift can happen within your own mind, heart, and practice. And within your newsroom, too.
You might be worried about the derogatory framework of the stories that get lumped into what’s often called “soft news.” But it’s actually the hardest thing to do — to be open to the depth of emotion and bear witness to another’s story and not just focus on the “what.” People who are able to do this kind of work have emotional maturity, inner resourcing, and a superpower that isn’t recognized or rewarded by most newsrooms. And in the process of reporting, they actually improve the lives of those they are reporting on through how they show up, the care they take, the deep listening they do, and the more accurate reflection they paint in the reporting.
I was lucky to be part of an experiment this year that included a few dozen journalists alongside folks in other fields to explore the concept of “care” in the practice of journalism. From this Care Collaboratory, stewarded by jesikah maria ross, we created this resource called “Take Care, Make Care: Dispatches from the Future of Local News Care Collaboratory.” It’s an entry point for any journalist who is vibing on what I’m laying out in this prediction.
So, back to those aliens monitoring and hovering around the periphery. If only to save ourselves from alien extermination, and at the risk of sounding unfit to call myself a journalist: I propose we add the lenses of love and care to our reporting goggles, so that humans and other life forms can see reality more accurately.
As jesikah maria ross says, “Care is love made practical.” 2024, and American democracy calling for a metric shit-ton of practicality.
Jennifer Brandel is the CEO of Hearken.
