It is a truth universally acknowledged that Rupert Murdoch is an evil, evil man. Naturally, it comes with the territory of controlling a vast media empire which - as we are all too frequently reminded - can influence elections at the drop of a hat (or, more accurately, a giant headline and an editorial questioning an unfavoured politician's sexuality/sanity/age/prediliction for addictive substances/whether he or she likes cats or not). Indeed, among clear-minded, moderate and considered circles, the Dirty Digger is afforded a degree of cultural hatred which falls somewhere between Kanye West circa MTV-awards-incident and Adolf Hitler.
This week, it seems that the Fuhrer of the Front Page is up to his usual dastardly tricks, actually trying to hide news from us unless we - SHOCK HORROR - pay for it. At first glance, this does seem news indeed (news, one might tuttingly add, we might have to fork out a monthly subscription for in the future): not content with single-handedly orchestrating the rise of Barack Obama, the fall of New Labour and the death of Jade Goody, Murdoch is turning into a hypercapitalist Big Brother, controlling what we know and don't know by means of PayPal and an irritating pop-up advert telling you exactly to what degree it intends to screw you over financially.
When you really think about it, though, free access news - at least in the form of 'quality' journalism - is a thoroughly recent concept. Up until around 15 years ago, the only in depth reportage and analysis of current events you could get hold of was through a physical newspaper or on Television at certain hours and in certain areas. The prospect of the Murdoch's Times or Sun, or even the BBC's news broadcasts being completely free to all was an alien notion. It is only in the world of the Information Super Highway (complete with gridlocked traffic, frequent accidents and a fair amount of dogging) that we feel an absolute right to specialist knowledge, and as such we feel violated when it is restricted.
All of this is, of course, besides the point. The fact is that we have the world at our fingertips and that to block this access would be both unethical and unworkable. By making his publications exclusive, Murdoch would be effectively strangling his position of considerable power: readers would simply opt for a free access alternative.
But while the Digger's comment increasingly sounds like the misguided ranting of a physically and mentally decaying, power-mad 78 year old (which to give him his due credit, is true), it does raise the question of how much we value free, professional news journalism. Now that news is free, we bizarrely don't have the same demand for it. Consider this:
When you fork out a hard earned pound for the Independent or Guardian (readers of this blog would naturally settle for nothing else), you make a tacit investment in the paper: you have paid for it, and bearing in mind it will be out of date in 24 hours, you had better damn read it to get your money's worth. The shiny gold coin handed breezily over the counter (complete with all the smug satisfaction that comes with buying the Independent or Guardian)impels you to savour every last detail of Tower Hamlets' new scheme to empower Bangladeshi youth; to devour hungrily the Shadow Immigration Minister's claims that labour shortages in key tertiary sectors are marginally overstated. Hell, you'll probably even devote a cursory slice of attention to the latest piece of fawning bollocks explaining just how Lily Cole manages to combine acting, modelling, studying and yet remains 'refreshingly girlish and down to Earth'. The point is, that having paid for our news, we value it, sqeezing out every fragment of a penny from every last column inch, satisfied in the knowledge that our hard graft is being rewarded with some slightly more advanced knowledge of the world around us.
With the Internet, things are different. We don't read the news out of this vague notion of duty to investment, but we scan it out of convenience, taking a quick and indiscriminate hit of information before moving on to the more pressing concerns of Facebook and emails. A quick glance at the lead articles on Guardian.co.uk (incidentally, my trendy-lefty homepage)should demonstrate this fact:
Headline 1: "Labour hails landslide in Glasgow byelection"
News digested:: 'So Labour are showing a belated bit of fight in a traditionally strong area. Still it's too little to late'
Headline 2: "NATO urged to share Afghan burden"
News digested: 'A conflict in a Middle Eastern country shows no sign of abating'
Headline 3: "I was bottled up says Sarah Palin"
News digested: 'Former Republican Vice-Presidential candidate is just as bonkers as she was a year ago'
Of course, as I surf on into the hyperspace, attending to the regular deletions of Waterstones' weekly newsletter and the best student offers available this month, I take these digested newsbites as given in themeselves, ignoring any pretence to depth or subtlety these various stories might have had. As it happens the election landslide also saw the BNP's highest polling in a Scottish vote, while the NATO article also focussed on Brown's recent 'friendly conversation' with none other than Rupert Murdoch himself (you quite literally can't keep him out of the news...). While I didn't bother reading Story #3, it's a safe bet that the article portrayed Sarah Palin in a considered, intellectual light, and announced her genuine grievances over highly complicated political matters.
It seems that like Stella Artois (or actually, like Stella's adverts: the real drink is cirrhosis-inducingly cheap) news should be reassuringly expensive. While it's free, we'll always do a few shots on the house, but consider the infinitely more pleasurable experience of a mammoth 12 pint session, in which you genuinely put the world to rights, before forgetting it all and doing exactly the same the next day.
No comments:
Post a Comment