gracchusdixit

The recent sacking of the executive editor of The New York Times by its publisher, Arthur Ochs Sulzberger, Jr., nicknamed “Pinch,” ignited a storm of frenzied speculation and lamentation among the chattering classes.  Since the editor he fired, Jill Abramson, was the first woman ever to have held the job, many asked:  was the decision sexist?  Because her removal was merely the latest in a series of turbulent departures in the upper echelons of The Times, others wondered:  is the problem at the very top, with the management skills and style of the publisher himself?  A few suggested that “Pinch” Sulzberger is somehow a lesser man than his venerated father, Arthur Ochs Sr., a.k.a., “Punch”.

One reason media pundits were so obsessed with this story is the simple fact that they are part of the same business.  The other reason is their unexamined assumption that The New York Times occupies a unique position in the world of journalism and thus a  high-level change at The Times has uniquely momentous consequences.  One of the many obsessed observers went so far as to call The New York Times “the most important media institution in the world”.

Such people need to sit back, take a deep breath, and take a close look at reality.

The New York Times is a fine newspaper, and it has played a significant role in our public life for a long time.  But to call it “the most important media institution in the world” is hyperbolic at best, ignorant at worst, and in either case woefully out of step with reality.

Of course, it all depends on what is meant by “important”.

If “important” means “influential,” then I suppose there is a case to be made.  The Times has, among other things, won more Pulitzer Prizes than any American newspaper.  On the other hand, can its journalistic influence seriously be compared with that of, say, the BBC, which operates four television networks and a dozen radio networks, provides news to an international audience in more than 28 languages, and has more correspondents and news bureaux than any other journalistic entity on the planet?

If “important” means reach—i.e., the number of its readers—The Times doesn’t come close to being the “most important media institution in the world.”  There are dozens of newspapers that are read by millions more than ever glance at a copy of The Times.  Newspapers in Japan and India have larger circulations by several orders of magnitude.  The circulation of Rupert Murdoch’s British tabloid, The Sun, dwarfs the readership of The Times, and that in a country less than a third the size of the United States.  Even in the United States itself, another Murdock enterprise, The Wall Street Journal, has a substantially larger readership.  Although the digital edition of The Times now has a bigger footprint than its printed pages, more people turn to CNN’s website for their news, not to mention the millions more who trawl for news video on You Tube.

If “important” means sheer size, then The New York Times Company doesn’t even make the list of truly consequential media organizations.  CBS makes twice as much money in a single calendar quarter, and Disney makes ten times as much.    Indeed, one cable news channel, Fox, generates as much revenue, and far more profit, than The Times and all its entities put together.

The Times is not only smaller than many of its counterparts and competitors, it is becoming still smaller.  The company used to own nine television stations; they’re gone.  For 65 years, it owned a radio station in New York City; that’s gone.  It bought The Boston Globe; that’s gone too.  It purchased The International Herald Tribune from another troubled newspaper, The Washington Post, then merged it with the mother ship and shut it down.  All of this is reflected in the stock price of The New York Times Company, which is a fraction of what it was just ten years ago.

The New York Times has a venerable past.  Whether it has a future is more doubtful.  What isn’t in doubt is that it no longer qualifies, if it ever did, as the “most important media institution in the world”.  The fate of its former executive editor is therefore a footnote, not a headline, in the story of American journalism.