The Experiences of Journalists in an Era of Crisis (Part II)

by Andy Carr

newspapers. Source: Renzo Borgatti, Creative Commons

From a human rights perspective, one key factor behind recent trends in American media might best be framed in terms of labor rights. Beneath the turmoil and headlines, a collective organizing and unionization effort at leading magazines and papers has emerged in recent years, including at Vox, The New Yorker, the Los Angeles Times, and others. Especially in media, focus has turned to the rising tide of labor unions – organizations which are formed by workers in the same sector (e.g., among journalists and related professions) to bargain collectively. Collective bargaining allows unionized workers to negotiate with a stronger hand; the more workers are included, the more their non-participation or, in extremis, walkouts, and strikes will affect their employer(s). Bargaining leads to a union contract which binds all employees and their employer (if approved by a pre-set threshold required) to baseline pay rates and other working conditions. In modern contexts, union contract conditions include working hours, overtime policies, paid leave and holidays, sick pay and health insurance, promotion qualifications and timelines, as well as equity and inclusion-oriented provisions, such as minority recruitment programs and diverse hiring initiatives. 

Journalist organizing movements follow in the footsteps of Depression-era unionizing efforts significantly set off by a call to action in the New York World-Telegram written by Heywood Broun, a famed columnist of the 1930s. The American Newspaper Guild subsequently exploded, and just “10 months after Broun’s first column, the Guild had 7,000 members, with 125 delegates from 70 papers” onboard. At the same time, as Steven Greenhouse explained in the Columbia Journalism Review last year, “many publishers [of the time] aggressively resisted unionization.” Famously, the Associated Press “fired a reporter, Morris Watson, for his pro-union activity,” leading to a lawsuit which reached the Supreme Court, Associated Press v. NLRB (1937). In that case, the Supreme Court “rejected the publishers’ arguments that their freedom of the press was being violated by federal laws” protecting unionization and collective bargaining, affirming the reach of the National Labor Relations Act of 1935 (NLRA). 

The NLRA remains a significant part of America’s federal law on employment and labor rights, and since its inception it has sought two broad aims: first, “to restore the equality of bargaining power” among workers and employers and, second, to “resolve the problem of depressed wages,” a ubiquitous concern in 1930s America (see Southern California Edison Co. v. Public Utilities Commission, 140 Cal. App. 4th 1085, 1100 (2006)). More than 80 years after its founding, however, the underlying goals of the NLRA remain widely unfulfilled, with nationwide union membership dropping year-over-year since at least 1983, and America’s journalists, in particular, have faced daunting challenges. To put it bluntly, journalists’ ongoing efforts to organize have met an organized, systemic response. 

Last May, Jones Day, one of the world’s largest law firms, held “a conference in its Manhattan office focused on labor and employment law in the news media industry,” an “invitation-only affair, bringing together Jones Day attorneys and media executives, in-house lawyers, and senior human resources personnel—in other words, anyone who might find themselves on the other side of a bargaining table from journalists trying to unionize.” Among the attendees were individuals from “The New York Times, The Washington Post, Slate, Univision, and Atlantic Media, among others,” and one of the “moderators leading the conference was Patricia Dunn, a longtime [Jones Day partner based in Washington, D.C.], and a former in-house counsel for the Post.” As CJR again summarized, Jones Day, 

“with Dunn often at the helm, has in recent years become a go-to for media executives facing union drives. At a time when uncertain market forces have driven more and more newsrooms to organize, Jones Day has become notorious for aggressive anti-union tactics that journalists and union leaders say have helped downgrade media union contracts and carve employee benefits to the bone. Jones Day’s portfolio of media outlets includes, among many others, Slate, whose union members voted [in December 2018] to authorize a strike amid pushback from management on their demands.”

These outlets hardly cover the range of past and ongoing union-busting efforts: New York magazine, Vox, the Boston Globe all have been accused of assertive anti-union tactics in the past few years. (Among these cases, however, Vox’s unionizing efforts recently succeeded in the dramatic form: on Friday, June 7, Vox Media staffers secured an industry-defining union contract after a 29-hour marathon negotiation. The contract set minimum salaries at $56,000, included generous leave policies for parents regardless of gender and included initiatives designed to improve diversity in management, among other provisions.) 

a room of journalists with laptops and cameras
Journalists. Source: UNClimateChange, Creative Commons

Even where writers and editors have had organizing success, their gains have proved temporary. As The New Yorker reported in November 2017, just one “week before [their] sites were shuttered, the staffs of DNAinfo and Gothamist had unionized with the Writers Guild of America, East,” one of two leading industry unions in America along with NewsGuild. DNAinfo and Gothamist comprised a network of locally oriented outlets in major cities, owned by billionaire Joe Ricketts, the founder of trillion-dollar “brokerage giant” TD Ameritrade and “a major right-wing donor who … has given millions of dollars to anti-labor politicians” across the United States. Former employees, speaking to The New Yorker, reported “that, in both coded and explicit ways, management had warned [staff] repeatedly in the months before they unionized that doing so would mean that the sites would cease to exist” – a seemingly clear instance of “threatening [unionizing] employees with closure,” in violation of federal law. 

Subverting workers’ collective organizing or their free association more broadly both constitute problematic strategies under international law, as well. The International Labor Organization (ILO), for instance, has spoken unequivocally on the fundamental right of workers to coordinate collective action, including rights to “freedom of association” and “the right to collective bargaining,” per the following excerpts:

ILO Declaration on Fundamental Principles and Rights at Work (June 1998), Perambulatory Dedication:

“Whereas, in seeking to maintain the link between social progress and economic growth, the guarantee of fundamental principles and rights at work is of particular significance in that it enables the persons concerned, to claim freely and on the basis of equality of opportunity, their fair share of the wealth which they have helped to generate, and to achieve fully their human potential…”

ILO Fundamental Principles, operative clause (2) (emphasis added):

“Declares that all Members, even if they have not ratified the Conventions in question, have an obligation arising from the very fact of membership in the Organization to respect, to promote and to realize, in good faith and in accordance with the Constitution, the principles concerning the fundamental rights which are the subject of those Conventions, namely: 
(a) freedom of association and the effective recognition of the right to collective bargaining
(b) the elimination of all forms of forced or compulsory labour; 
(c) the effective abolition of child labour; and
(d) the elimination of discrimination in respect of employment and occupation…”

The UN Human Rights Council in 2008 also weighed in on corporations’ responsibilities vis-à-vis human rights, to include fundamental principles of labor rights. Although currently non-binding, the Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights framework describes “business enterprises as specialized organs of society performing specialized functions,” but which also are “required to comply with all applicable laws and to respect human rights” (emphasis added). The Guiding Principles emerged in response to concerns about the nexus of human rights and transnational businesses specifically, yet are framed in generalized terms. Thus, the ongoing anti-organizing efforts of managers and owners in American media may constitute violations of not just domestic labor laws, but also an emerging corpus of international legal standards that might become binding rules in coming years. 

The foregoing issues merely scratch the surface. Strong-arm labor tactics often combine with the toxicity of online media culture generally and the lawsuit-begging misconduct of particular outlets. For example, a 2018 New York article on the culture at Vice Media cites a “senior manager [who] once joked that the company’s hiring strategy had a ’22 Rule’: ‘Hire 22-year-olds, pay them $22,000, and work them 22 hours a day.’” Vice, then, might provide a serviceable avatar for American media problems – a culture of toxicity, outright abuse, and constant uncertainty about reporters’ job security combined with increasingly “widely lauded” output, such as Vice’s work with HBO and a documentary which “offered one of the first looks inside the Islamic State,” from 2014. Vice, notably, has been embroiled in back-and-forth union negotiations since January 2018, prompting over “75 current and former writers for HBO” to sign a petition requesting Vice Media “sign a strong union contract.” 

With the enduring stalemate over unionizing efforts at BuzzFeed News and another round of layoffs in recent weeks—including the total elimination of Ebony’s online team, allegedly without pay for work already done, earlier in June—a complex push and pull continues. Media organizing successes and setbacks like that above highlight the urgency of needed protections. 

 

The Crisis in American Journalism Is a Labor Rights Crisis (Part I)

by Andy Carr

a photo of a newsstand
news. Source: Anthony Lazaro, Creative Commons

To say American media has struggled in recent decades would be an understatement, but the past weeks of extensive newsroom layoffs cut especially deep. As CNN reported on January 24, from Monday to Thursday of that week, at least 1,000 journalists were laid off nationwide, including 15 percent of BuzzFeed News personnel (approximately 220 individuals), 7 percent of various Verizon-owned entities’ staff (including HuffPost, AOL, and Yahoo News), and widespread cuts at Gannett, America’s largest newspaper owner. At BuzzFeed News alone, the entire national news desk staff was gone by January 25, along with all but one of the LGBT-focused reporters at the company and the national security staff.

That devastating week’s news follows years of similar stories far beyond the present decade’s startups and digital innovators. Last spring, Sridhar Pappu and Jay Stowe of the New York Times provided a concise yet devastating account of the shifting media landscape since the dawn of the twenty-first century, including the collapse of marquee legacy publications like TIME magazine:

When Time Warner merged with AOL in 2000, the company seemed poised to conquer the internet. History, however, had other plans. Subscribers and advertisers turned away from the core publications. Budgets shrank. Layoffs became commonplace. In 2014, Time Inc. was spun off from the Time Warner mother ship, and in 2015 it left the Time & Life building for a comparatively modest space on Liberty Street in Lower Manhattan.

TIME, along with parent company Time Inc.’s other leading magazines, like Sports Illustrated, Fortune, and Money, had been purchased in fall 2017 by media conglomerate Meredith Corp., before putting the Time portfolio up for sale just six months later. Gannett, meanwhile, recently was described as “the most voracious acquirer of local papers in the news business,” publishing national outlets like USA Today and major-market papers “including The Arizona Republic, the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, and The Cincinnati Enquirer.” Even Gannett is exposed to looming concerns: Alden Global Capital, a New York-based global hedge fund founded in 2007, offered a hostile bid to takeover Gannett for $1.4 billion. As The Week reported earlier in January,

[The] strategy of buying and cutting [media staff] is exactly the one that Gannett pursued as it grew into the biggest newspaper owner in the country. Alden is following Gannett’s own logic, taken to its furthest extreme. So far, wherever Digital First [Alden’s media subsidiary] has gone, ‘a bevy of job cuts’ has followed. [So, if] Alden succeeds in its bid, it will be a waking nightmare for anyone who cares about newspapers.

Many such stories have wrenched the field of journalism since the 1990s, and one need not look far back into archives to see the expansive damage. The Weekly Standard, a conservative outlet which in its waning months of operation “exhibited a cover-to-cover vibrancy that had eluded it for more than a decade,” was “snuffed” out of existence by owner Phil Anschutz last December; Glamour announced last November that the 80-year-old print version of the magazine would cease production, “shifting to a digital-only operation” after January 2019; international titles with U.S.-based parent organizations, like men’s magazine ShortList and Cosmopolitan Australia, also closed in 2018. Among America’s local and regional newspapers, the bludgeoning has proved even more draconian: approximately “1,800 local papers have closed or merged since 2004,” according to a 2018 CNN report.

As I wrote late last year, journalism—and journalists, individually—are linked inextricably to human rights concerns, as the “chroniclers” of human rights abuses, making them known to the world, as advocates and agents of human rights causes they cover, and as the targets of increasingly frequent abuses globally. The stunning decline of American news media broadly affects both deep-dive investigative journalism and analysis, along with on-the-ground reporting of current affairs. In so doing, these structural changes to the industry threaten journalism’s integral role in cataloging, reporting, and advancing human rights.

an older man reading the newspaper
Reading the newspaper. Source: Nicolas Alejandro, Creative Commons

These systemic changes to the news media landscape often have been grouped into two broad categories: the overall consolidation of American mass media, among other industries, since the end of the twentieth century (a two-time subject of John Oliver’s Last Week Tonight, back in 2017), and the massive shift to mobile and online-based advertising, where aggregate revenue overwhelmingly is concentrated in leading digital companies like Facebook and Google. According to a 2018 estimate reported in Adweek, those two companies alone account for “around 85 percent of every new digital dollar” entering the mobile and online ad spaces. Facebook in particular already functions “as one of the world’s largest distributors of information,” a reality it “acknowledged” in early 2017 “by announcing the Facebook Journalism Project.” The Project “calls for the company to forge deeper ties with publishers,” to help “develop training programs and tools for journalists,” and to “help train members of the public to find news sources they trust, while fighting the spread of fake news across its site.” While Facebook had met with thousands of publishers by mid-year 2017; actual financial support, i.e., the transfer of advertising revenue streams or any other profit-generating opportunities, remain illusory, and outside the scope of Facebook’s efforts.

Clearly, American mass media faces several structural challenges, but why is any of this relevant for human rights-related concerns?  Why is the labor crisis in journalism a human rights concern unto itself? The effects are manifold.  First, media consolidation has been found to affect the “viewpoint diversity” of media broadly – meaning, consolidation might restrain the variety of views and issues covered in papers and online outlets.  As early as 1999, the late Senator Paul Wellstone (D-MN) wrote about his concerns about the early stages of media consolidation as a threat to American democracy.  In a Federal Communications Law Journal article, Sen. Wellstone expressed grave concerns about a then-pending merger of CBS and Viacom, among a “recent wave of mergers among media companies,” all of which might pose threats “for our representative democracy” and accordingly “warrant the highest level of scrutiny by … antitrust agencies” (p. 551).  The Senator continued, presciently arguing that America’s media is not just any ordinary industry.  It is the life-blood of American democracy.  We depend on the media for the free flow of information that enables citizens to participate in the democratic process.  As James Madison wrote in 1822, ‘A popular government without popular information, or the means of acquiring it, is but a prologue to a farce or a tragedy, or perhaps both.’  That’s why freedom of the press is enshrined in our Constitution.  No other industry enjoys that kind of protection (p. 551-552).

Speaking of the media’s macro-role, Sen. Wellstone concluded that, for America’s “democracy to work, we depend on the media to do two things.  We depend on them to provide citizens with access to a wide and diverse range of opinions, analyses, and perspectives” and, second, “we depend on the media to hold concentrated power—whether public or private power—accountable to the people” (p. 552).  Thus, “greater diversity of ownership and control” confers superior ability among journalists “to perform those functions” which are so vital.  The empirical record for that proposition, admittedly, is mixed – as a 2009 study by Daniel E. Ho and Kevin M. Quinn in the Stanford Law Review found twenty years after Sen. Wellstone’s article was published.  (The question remains an open, hotly debated one, nonetheless, especially among legal scholars.)

Regardless of consolidation’s effects on viewpoints in journalism, the effects on reporters’ professional capabilities—to fulfill the democratic functions outlined by Sen. Wellstone and to highlight, in particular, human rights stories at home and around the world—are less ambiguous.  On the one hand, the renewed implosion of the field has exposed journalists to protracted, targeted, organized abuse online, especially through social media attacks, which journalists have used to share job opportunities and freelance gigs during the cycles of layoffs, and just as often to provide support to or commiserate with former colleagues and other industry peers.  As writer and journalist Maya Kosoff put it in a January 29 tweet, she was “overwhelmed by how helpful and supportive people have been [through Twitter] over the past week” of layoffs, and dedicated to finding ways “to pay it forward” to others in the field.

For present purposes, worries run deeper.  As writer Rebecca Traister put it in a reflective tweet amid the layoff chaos in late January, it is difficult to “fathom the number of talented journalists being taken away from the work they were in the midst of doing this week.  This is a travesty” – and a harbinger of what is to come in the event of further consolidations and layoffs.  To take just one example, BuzzFeed News reporter Mike Giglio—among those who were laid off last month—produced extensive, in-depth stories during his more than five years with the company.  His reporting on U.S. involvement in Syria regularly touched upon the complexities of both foreign policy stratagem and the dire concerns of civilians exposed to human rights abuses.  Last fall, Mr. Giglio perceptively deconstructed the geopolitical morass of the Jamal Khashoggi killing, accounting for the crosscutting interests of Turkey, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the U.S. with deeply reported interviews and analysis.

After the BuzzFeed News desk was effectively “demolished,” dozens of talented reporters and writers like Giglio are now forced into an unforgiving job market, sitting on dormant stories and leads.  Similar stories at the abovementioned outlets reeling from layoffs—from HuffPo to AOL, Gannett to the more-recent purges at McClatchy—abound.  The gutting of newsrooms around America is a profound pain for writers and their families, personally.  But the ongoing thinning of journalism’s most-talented ranks undermines the whole public’s access to vital information needed to hold human rights abusers to account as well.  The stakes are high.