TIISETSO MOTSOENENG: Finding sanctuary in print journalism

“With the pressures on printed newspapers seemingly mounting in the face of a move to digital, the Business Day ... reminded me of how precious and rewarding is the 20 minutes of each day when I hide from the world behind a broadsheet.”

So said Michael Hook, a loyal reader of this newspaper, after two consecutive editions of Business Day reminded him of the solace and reward of spending 20 minutes daily reading the broadsheet.   

His comments, carried on this newspaper’s letters pages, come as a debate rages: is print journalism gasping its last breath or merely transforming into something new? As an unapologetic ink-stained sentimentalist, this reporter stands unflinching in the latter camp, roots deeply rooted in the unique experiences that the Sowetan, Sunday Times and the Economist offer.

That is not to say that print newspapers in this country and elsewhere in the world are not facing a serious threat. People such as Koos Bekker, Naspers’ chair, and Anton Harber, a journalist-turned-university professor, have a point. They point to declining newspaper revenues, layoffs and closures that call into question the commercial logic of print journalism in an ad-driven, digital-first terrain.

Yet, print journalism, far from being a relic, is evolving. Beyond the quiet magic of holding a physical newspaper, newspapers offer a refuge from the digital storm and slot into the narrative about the dangers of excessive screen time. Advocates and researchers champion digital detoxes, urging us to unplug, step away from screens and reconnect with the tangible world.   

Why? Scientific evidence shows that excessive screen time affects mental health, disrupts sleep and affects our being. Print journalism, alongside a jog in the fog or a bike ride, offers a respite, a chance to engage without a flurry of notifications.

Print journalism remains a hidden spot for curation in a world drowning in digital noise. The front page isn’t a random assortment; it’s a deliberate selection. Each article, meticulously crafted, invites reflection.

In the inside pages, we sometimes stumble upon unexpected gems — an article about a Cape Town dog hotel offering canine guests a luxury pampering experience, complete with dog champagne. It’s the kind of serendipitous encounter that defies algorithms and adds to print journalism’s enduring allure.

Rock newspaper

Few print journalism publications illustrate the unique charm of the tactile experience of reading a printed newspaper like the New Musical Express (NME), a UK rock newspaper founded in 1952. Its journey mirrors the broader shift from ink to pixels.

To revive circulation, it relaunched a free sheet in 2015 but the model proved unsustainable and three years later stopped printing.

But a year ago, NME said it would return to print, per the Irish Times. The comeback, albeit in a limited-run format, is a compelling example that print journalism isn’t dying but evolving. The Irish Times reports that NME plans to produce a limited number of bimonthly high-priced, glossy editions, targeting a specific audience — music superfans and collectors.

NME isn’t trying to compete with the mass market digital content. Instead, it is carving out a niche market that values tangible, high-quality products and leveraging the inherent value of scarcity. 

The evolution of NME from a weekly magazine to a web-only publication, and now to a limited-run print edition, illustrates the vital part of the printed newspaper in journalism. The dominance of digital screens — which offer convenience and real-time updates — have reshaped the industry, but it hasn’t extinguished the allure of print newspapers. 

Motsoeneng is Business Day deputy editor.