Offleash is the Ryerson Review of Journalism’s first-ever regular podcast, published on RRJ.ca every second Wednesday at 3:33 p.m.

In this week’s episode—the final episode of this year’s masthead—senior editor Viviane Fairbank and multimedia editor Allison Baker discuss a new career option: becoming a politician.

Patrice Dutil, a politics professor (with some journalistic insight), weighs in. There is also talk of the Review‘s launch party on Monday, March 21. We hope to see you all there!

Offleash, the Review’s podcast created by senior editor Viviane Fairbank and multimedia editors Allison Baker and Eternity Martis, is now on iTunes.

Music courtesy of Paul Nathan Harper, also known as A F L O A T. Find his music here: @a-f-l-o-a-t

Offleash is the Ryerson Review of Journalism’s first-ever regular podcast, published on RRJ.ca every second Wednesday at 3:33 p.m. In this week’s episode, our editor Kat Eschner and senior editor Viviane Fairbank discuss the intricacies of writing about technology.

Matt Braga, a freelance writer formerly with Motherboard, and Claire Brownell of the Financial Post join us in studio to talk about headlines, Reddit and love.

Offleash, the Review’s podcast created by senior editor Viviane Fairbank and multimedia editors Allison Baker and Eternity Martis, is now on iTunes.

Music courtesy of Paul Nathan Harper, also known as A F L O A T. Find his music here: @a-f-l-o-a-t

“Is it Fateeema?” asked two editors interviewing me in a boardroom much too big for a three-person meeting. I tried to impress them with three story ideas: something about transit, something about local politics and something about immigration. They asked follow-up questions about the third one—How did I think of the story? What are the main issues? How would the story come together?—even though I thought the second was better developed and delivered.

To read more, please visit our online special.

Follow the conversation #whydiversity. 

In the summer of 2014, The Globe and Mail narrowly avoided an editorial staff strike over native advertising—the practice of working with advertisers to create ads that resemble journalism. A leaked memo from Globe management to the paper’s union proposed a system in which editorial staff would write for advertisers, compromising, in the minds of many Globe reporters, their integrity as journalists.

Now, the Globe has launched a new website for Globe Edge—a potential solution to the hotly debated question of whether newspapers can produce native advertising without selling their souls to ad clients. Despite the inextricable problem with publishing clearly biased ads designed to blend in with theoretically unbiased journalism, the relaunch of Edge may represent the better of many evils, as well as an industry warming up to the idea of writing for someone other than readers.

According to Globe Edge managing editor Sean Stanleigh, Edge operates as a micro property of The Globe and Mail, much like a section of the newspaper. While Edge staff still write native ads in the same physical space as the rest of the paper, an important divide exists between Globe employee roles.

The seven members of the Edge team who work on native advertising—though many once worked as journalists—are distinct from the Globe’s editorial staff. This workforce divide distinguishes Edge from the Globe’s first bungled attempt at native advertising, which nearly caused the strike. Stanleigh says this is crucial because it separates editorial work from work supervised and directed by clients, which is outside the scope of acceptable journalism.

Another important divide appears within the articles themselves, albeit not as prominently as it should. Take, for example, “Roughnecks, armed with tablets, transform the energy industry,” a distinctly uncritical look at new technology in the oil fields: a tiny banner along the top declares, “sponsored content” (in size 7.5 font); the type shade is slightly lighter than the standard black (though nearly indistinguishable); and an italicized message at the end of the article clarifies that the Globe’s editorial staff had nothing to do with it.

As native advertising has become more standard–particularly online (BuzzFeed makes nearly all its money this way)–many believe these small design cues aren’t enough. In a 2013 article following a native advertising misstep that led The Atlantic to publish a glowing endorsement of Scientology, the Globe’s own Simon Houpt took a firm stand against native advertising, writing, “Given the way readers consume stuff online, scanning articles on tiny screens, simply sticking a label at the top or bottom of an article won’t do the trick.”

But Stanleigh has observed a shift in the Globe newsroom away from knee-jerk rejection of native ads as unethical without exception. “I haven’t felt any antagonism from my colleagues,” he says. “I think they understand that we need to make the money it takes to produce great journalism.”

This awareness of a newspaper’s financial needs is keener than ever, and the softening of journalists toward native advertising has likely been prodded along by declining revenues.

Another contributing factor toward the acceptance of native ads is increased responsibility on the part of the advertisers. In 2013, the U.S.-based Interactive Advertising Bureau (IAB) published the Native Advertising Playbook, which attempts to establish industry-wide standards such as clear and unmistakable disclosure to readers. “It’s eminently possible to protect institutional integrity and provide a platform for paid points of view,” says IAB President Randall Rothenberg.

But “integrity” is a distinctly subjective concept, and its definition for advertisers may differ wildly for journalists. For Stanleigh, who was once deputy national editor for the Globe and has also worked as a senior editor at the Toronto Star, bridging this gap is essential. “One of the most important parts of my role is making sure advertisers have an understanding of journalistic principles,” he says.

While the concept still makes many journalists queasy, the development of Globe Edge is a leading example of a bad thing done well. If we accept that journalism needs to be profitable to exist—and that it may soon have exhausted all morally sound means of making money—a careful, responsible approach toward native advertising may be our next best bet.

Offleash is the Ryerson Review of Journalism’s first-ever regular podcast, published on RRJ.ca every second Wednesday at 3:33 p.m. (with the exception of today—we’re a few days early to make it on time for Valentine’s Day listeners).

In this week’s episode, our multimedia editors Eternity and Allison discuss all things journalism and love.

Dan Westell and Kimberley Noble, two journalists who are married to each other, talk about when they first met and their tips for dating a fellow reporter. And Marina Adshade, an economist and author, discusses the complex relationship between love and the economy.

Later in the show, Eternity speaks with Laura Hensley, departments editor, and Davide Mastracci, blog editor, about writing about their love lives. There is also talk of secret admirers.

Offleash, the Review’s podcast created by senior editor Viviane Fairbank and multimedia editors Allison Baker and Eternity Martis, is now on iTunes.

Music courtesy of Paul Nathan Harper, also known as A F L O A T. Find his music here: @a-f-l-o-a-t

Dear readers,

After more than a year of questions and discussion about the future of the Ryerson Review of Journalism, our plan’s building blocks are in place. It will be an audience-focused, audience-driven, audience-supported multiplatform magazine brand that continues to include an annual print edition, plus much more.

By audience, we mean you. But first, some background.

More than a year ago, I began asking colleagues what the magazine of the future would be like, how this should affect the Review, and how the magazine could become more sustainable given the flight of advertising dollars from print. These private questions quickly fuelled passionate public discussions, which hearteningly affirmed the Review’s importance to readers.

As I podcast, our engaging weekly newsletter, steady engagement on Twitter and the edgy blog you’re reading now. And it’s now clear that the mix should continue to include an annual print edition.

But the most central insight threaded through all the recent discussions and developments is that a successful magazine today is a multidimensional brand that enjoys a dynamic relationship with its audience community. It is neither print-first nor digital-first: it is audience-first.

Our most important goal for the Review’s future is, therefore, a more intimate understanding of our audience community and its information needs. Starting this September, audience contact and analysis will be built in to each year’s masthead activities—so don’t be surprised if you get a call from a journalism student asking for your story ideas and suggestions for the magazine’s form and content.

To serve that audience well, the Review’s various manifestations will express complementary aspects of the magazine’s unified brand.  Our digital and print offerings need to grow more interrelated and interactive. They should be supplemented by other branded activity (such as events and merchandise), and electronic publication should eventually replace newsstand distribution for single-copy sales.

To make all this possible without diminishing the very brand we’re trying to expand, we need to support an equally high standard of reporting, writing and editing on every platform, and to increase the number of students bringing diverse skills and interests to both editorial and publishing activities.

All of this will cost more money, not less. Even in a period of austerity in funding for post-secondary education, Ryerson will continue to invest heavily in instruction, technology and support for the Review, primarily because it’s a serious asset for students’ career preparedness. And the vigorous support expressed for the Review, on this blog and elsewhere, suggests that its audience members stand ready to add their support.

If that includes you, you can prove it now by subscribing to the print edition, whose cover price will be increased to reflect its costs, and pledging a gift that expresses the level of your support.

Students, too, will play a part in the sustainability plan. Each future masthead will be given a set publishing budget and will make its own decisions on how to grow and spend that resource, replicating the kind of entrepreneurial sensibility that drives a successful niche magazine today.

I will spare you the many details involved in implementing the above ideas, but be assured that our eyes are firmly on the prize of a growing presence for the Review as a keen eye on the dynamic landscape of Canadian journalism, in partnership with J-Source, which is now housed in the RRJ editorial suite.

As always, my colleagues and I welcome your suggestions and questions on any of the above. You’re our core audience, so please consider yourself promoted to Editorial Director and Co-Publisher, effective immediately.

Ivor Shapiro

Chair: Ryerson School of Journalism

Publisher: Ryerson Review of Journalism

Dear Canadian journalists,

It’s time we have a serious talk. Yes, you are in trouble.

It’s not you, it’s the Paul Godfreys of the world. They have pushed a noble profession closer and closer to falling into a black void of unemployment and no value, the Mount Doom for our seemingly cursed pens (or keyboards, if you want to be accurate). One overpaid CEO to rule them all. One overpaid CEO to save them. One overpaid CEO to take them all out and in the darkness fire them.

At some point, the epic saga about the survival of journalism became overburdened by the weight of our empty wallets. We stopped fighting back, or, at least, we became complacent in accepting the ruling iron fist of money. We mourn our lost brothers and sisters in arms. We write about it, we rant about it, we scream it from the depths of the Twitterverse. We just haven’t done anything about it.

Journalism is not dead, because news can never die. It has been shared long before ill-fated financial aims merged with the informative superpowers of the newsroom. We’ve forgotten that we still hold the pens (I mean, keyboards), and with that we can figure out a way to survive, and thrive.

We can only do that if there’s belief and hope–idealistic terms for the most part, but a lot has been built and done on these two abstract concepts. We’ve spent over a decade trying to retain these ideals, desperately navigating the murky waters to try and figure out why journalism is in trouble, what led it there and what to do to fix it.

I’m writing this from a journalism school among future journalists who believe that there is something invaluable journalism has to offer–stories, information, truth, analysis, depth, understanding. We wouldn’t be paying thousands of dollars of tuition (and student debt) if we didn’t believe that.

Over the past year, every class has started with a professor emphasizing the changing landscape of journalism. This isn’t done as a negative portrayal of the profession, but as a reality we need to accept and learn to navigate. It’s certainly a bleak reality, but, as a friend and fellow journalism student pointed out yesterday, “All industries shift and downsize and change and sometimes grow.” Where there are ups, there are also downs; fluctuations, after all, are a natural economic occurrence, one the journalism industry is not immune to.

There is a future of journalism. More importantly, there is a present of journalism. Instead of crying wolf on the death of our professional identities, let’s figure out a way to rebuild. It’s time to stop talking about our woes, buy some bandages and a pair of crutches, and fight harder to tell the news.

With the warmest of regards,

Paul Godfrey’s next target

The former hierarchies of the journalism industry have crumbled by the weight of the digital realm, to be replaced by blurry parallel relations between journalists and readers.

The result is evident in the record 10,600 readers who participated in the Toronto Star‘s annual “You be the editor” survey. Administered by the Star’s public editor, Kathy English, the “highly unscientific, overly simplistic survey” served to provide insight into readers’ perspectives on the judgments made on to-publish-or-not-to-publish over the past year.

For example, 60 percent of readers voted that a cartoon presenting Toronto Mayor John Tory in bare-butt pants should have been published, which English now also agrees with. Fifty-five percent of the readers would have also made the decision to publish the Charlie Hebdo cartoons depicting the Prophet Muhammed. English disagrees: “it would be offensive and hurtful to Muslims in this community.”

Online journalism, in its many forms, has created a system of interaction that enables and encourages collaboration between reader and editor to discover, distribute and discuss the elements that create the best possible version of a news story. Today, the function of readers has surpassed that of being an audience, with technology fuelling their willingness to be heard and their capacity to be listened to, even on core matters of journalism ethics that the industry continues to debate.

These include the examples English collated in her survey, especially those about issues relating to mental health stories, as shown in the image below.

“Neither of th[e]se references is in line with media best practices for writing about mental health,” writes English, “and, to my mind, neither should have been published in the Star.” I agree.

In fairness, English does recognize that “newsroom debate about what to publish is always deeper and more wide-ranging than what this light exercise in journalistic decision-making can depict.”

Yet in the digital age of journalism, what is considered good, thorough and balanced journalistic practice is often at odds with reader perceptions and expectations. That’s okay if journalists are aware that, while the hierarchy may have crumbled, they still make the final call on how to best tell the story to the reader, who can only play the role of editor. Survey results show that readers were aligned with the newsroom’s judgments in 12 of the 18 matters in question. I’m unsure what to conclude from that.

A day before the survey results were published, Mitch Potter, the Star’s foreign affairs writer, wrote how the decision to publish certain images of Syrian kids in conflict zones is important in defining whether the reader will perceive them with empathy or as furthering propaganda. “You, friends, are now the filter, every bit—if not more so—than those of us who used to be,” concludes Potter.

That’s a scary thought. The power of the reader is strong. The force of journalism needs to find a way to stay in line with, if not above, that.

The sound of clicking cameras was the underlying soundtrack for all the heartwarming, tear-jerking, smile-inducing videos of Syrian refugees arriving in Canada this past weekend. While the camera lens remained focused for the most part on Justin Trudeau’s friendly greetings and coat-giving proceedings, the row of broadcasting equipment looming over the newly arrived Syrian-Canadians in the wide-angle shots was undeniable.

In one video, the Prime Minister is helping twin sisters find matching purple winter jackets. One twin stands to the side as the other twin is fitted. She looks around at the cameras with what seems like an uncomfortable and uneasy look of confusion. I stopped watching after that.

It’s an example that once again poses that repeatedly asked question: how do journalists fulfill their obligation to report and satisfy the public interest without being unnecessarily intrusive? Journalism demands that we report the news in the best way that tells the story. Syrian refugees arriving safe and reuniting with their families is a key element of this story, so it must be illustrated in the ways our multimedia universe demands. This involves zooming in to capture that little Syrian girl, in whom we capture war, peace, struggle and survival.

To what extent, however, should this practice extend? In another video, a father and son reunite after 10 years apart. The father’s audible crying is heartbreaking, but those tears can be uncomfortable to watch, especially when the camera zooms in and forces us to become unwanted observers into a very intimate moment (despite the access to media the refugees would have agreed to).

Journalism is in an age where the news is shown more than it’s told, where the visual  is king of storytelling. Yet in this practice we have yet to find a balance between reportage and intrusion. In the interest of round-the-clock broadcast and social media news, the microphone and lens are the keys to great stories. This is at the risk of zooming in to personal moments in public issues, like the little Syrian girl, whose face the Canadian psyche isn’t going to forget.

Canadian journalists are to be commended on their coverage of the Syrian refugee crisis these past couple of months, but with a few stipulations. Let’s talk about how much of what we see is “public” news, a word that continues to plague the pursuit of journalism. Seeing Syrian refugees arrive safely has been a series of good news pieces, but can the same heartwarming, tear-jerking, smile-inducing stories be told without zooming in? Is it okay for journalists to watch from afar, to allow for a private moment to take place before sharing, with consent, a personal story with public implications?

These have been questions without answers, and will probably continue to be, because journalism is dictated by the tyranny of the visual and the scarcity of time. Until we find a balance between these two forces, we will continue to grapple with the problem between reporting and intruding.