It is difficult to recall when exactly the journalism bug bit me, but the landmarks are clear. Our English teacher in school made writing a goal for all of us. While scoring high in class essay assignments was an obvious first milestone, the Holy Grail was to get a "letter to the editor" published in The Statesman, then king among Indian newspapers.
Several of us made it, to the Letters column I mean, by the time we finished school. But somehow, unbeknownst to the conscious mind, my aim became turning the toehold into proper entry - get into The Statesman. Looking back, several defining aspects of being in a politically active college in the late sixties made this happen.
Extreme left-wing views were then easily held; the Vietnam war and the students' protests across the western world created the backdrop. But to some of us, another reality - equally momentous - soon began to unfold. The anti-Vietnam war protests in the United States found a personal target in President Nixon and before you knew it Watergate began to unravel.
Almost inexorably, Nixon met his nemesis, but out of the ashes of political turmoil emerged a set of heroes - The Washington Post and its stars, Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward. For the first time perhaps, two reporters became household names like war heroes.
It would be a big exaggeration to say that I sought to become a journalist to one day become a Bob Woodward. But, definitely, at a time when seeking a career meant choosing between engineering and appearing for the civil service exams, it became particularly honourable to seek to work for a newspaper, and the one that made it so was the Post.
I recall trying to explain to friends what it meant to be a journalist when they tried to drill some realism into my head. It was great to get your byline and enjoy the way girls in college began to look at you differently, but surely "writing" wouldn't earn you a decent livelihood, they told me. I had no answer to that. So I changed tack and explained the import of what the Post had done. Here was the most powerful man in the world, the president of the US, felled not by a Soviet missile from Cuba, but a mere newspaper - which noisily printed every morning in smudgy ink his shenanigans. The Post became a new Holy Grail, even though I had never held a copy of it in my hands.
So I had to put aside the morning paper when I saw the headline - Washington Post sold - and let the mind wander. The Grahams, who had stood by the paper through the turmoil of Watergate and had been a pillar of support to the journalists, had sold the dragon slayer for a pittance. How much the world had changed in around half a century and where on earth was it headed, I wondered.
Surely, it could not be that there would be no more dragons to slay. More likely, how you do the slaying will change. Instead of shooting an arrow, you will press a button. The fun will be gone for those who like the equivalent of shooting an arrow. But, of course, the world must move on. Technology ensures that.
But questions remained. I could clearly empathise with the Post staffers, who after the first shock wondered how long they would be able to ply their trade the way they had done so far. Of course, the new owner would not want them to work in any way except with the same honour and competence as before, but how long would he like to foot the growing deficit created by falling circulation and declining revenue?
The conundrum that starkly stood out was: society cannot do without the likes of the Post, but society is increasingly reluctant to foot the bill. The debate when The Wall Street Journal was sold came back. Such newspapers are public goods. They create far greater value than an accountant can compute, and you cannot exclude anyone from it even though he may not be a subscriber or an advertiser.
Of course, you can reassure yourself that leaks that shake the establishment of the day will continue, only the primary medium will be not the printing press but the internet. But then again, finally you will need a select bunch of papers to put the leaks into context and make sense. It is easy to argue that content will remain king whereas the medium will change. But somehow, I cannot see the end of the printed newspaper any more than I can see the end of the printed book.
Disclaimer: These are personal views of the writer. They do not necessarily reflect the opinion of www.business-standard.com or the Business Standard newspaper
