Finding your newsroom’s ‘public interest’ metric


In newsrooms, we can measure things like never before. Page views and active engaged time are the minute-by-minute trading currencies of the newsrooms I work with. On a monthly basis, no fewer than 21 metrics are studied to ensure we’re building a future for journalism which is sustainable.

Those metrics include the two mentioned above, but also volume of high impact articles (those engaging large volumes of readers for more than a minute), video streams, video completion rates, pages per loyal visitor and audio streams. Anyone can chase a page view, but building a sustainable future for journalism takes more than that.

And it’s the sustainability of local journalism which has been in spotlight since the publication of the Cairncross Review into journalism a few weeks ago. The review highlights a risk to ‘public interest journalism’ in a world where the reader is more reluctant to pay than in the past, and where revenue is attached to page views, with little or no value attached to what’s on the page by those advertising on it.

The Local Democracy Reporter Scheme has shown us a way around this – the BBC funding 150 reporters to cover local councils across the country. (Disclaimer: I worked on the project team which created the scheme, and the company I work for, Reach, employs 55 LDRs). The Cairncross Report proposes the expansion of the LDR scheme.

Cairncross suggests the an “Institute of Public Interest News” should be set up, and funded (exactly how is unclear) to provide a certain future for such coverage, including the existing LDRs. Financially, of course, it would, which would be good news, and it would at least guarantee public interest journalism continued.

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How the page view will help save journalism

The page view feels like it has been under attack for years, getting the blame for pretty much, well, everything wrong with journalism.

In digital journalism circles, the argument went that there had to be better metrics to look at when determining what ‘good’ journalism looked like. Time spent, active time spent, pages per visit, local audience visitor numbers, subscriber numbers, return visits, brand traffic … the list goes on.

In wider journalism circles – and especially here in the UK – the page view was (and still is) lamented too often as causing ‘click chasing’ and a general dilution in quality local journalism. I looked at this in my last post on here – if we’re honest, the problem with quality of local journalism has nothing to do with looking at page views, it’s to do with what the page views tell you.

Yet for all the tutting and criticism thrown the way of the page view, here we are in 2019 with the page view as still a primary metric in any newsroom which takes digital content even slightly seriously. Why?

Probably for two reasons. The first is simply this:


Page views generate revenue, which funds journalism, which in turn enables us to generate page views. The fact our industry didn’t pick up on this until long after others were ‘eating our lunch’ should always be remembered when the next big change comes along.

The second reason the page view has continued to dominate is because we’ve realised there is no perfect single metric which tells you everything you need to know. Digital metrics are lightyears ahead of the ones at the disposal of newspaper sales executives, but I’d argue newspaper sales executives wouldn’t have spent half as long trying to create perfect digital news metric as the digital news industry did. Ask yourself ‘What do I need to know’ and then ‘What can I realistically find out?”

In the absence of unicorn metrics which tell us if something is good journalism, the page view lives on. But increasingly, not on its own.

What we want from readers tells us what we need from metrics

We need people to want our content – and to become loyal to it. Newsrooms which allow their content decisions to be influenced by a platform will always be at risk of a nasty shock when that platform changes tack.

At this point, you go in two directions. There’s content which people want, and there’s content we need them to want. It’s  the difference between searching for content and trusting a brand to tell you what you need to know.

The page view metric is often accused of making newsrooms indulge in content described as ‘lightweight’, ‘pointless,’ ‘not news’ or ‘clickbait.’ Local newsrooms often hear this, even if it remains very rare to see any content produced by a local newsroom that wouldn’t have found a home in a 1990s evening newspaper. If anything, the page view metric teaches us that the stuff newsrooms didn’t consider part of what sold the newspaper – weather, TV listings, adverts even – was probably more important to the reader than we ever gave them credit for.

There’s a very real risk that used in isolation, the page view can lead to the wrong decisions being made.  At this point, the ‘couldn’t get the clicks’ choir often strike up. But our challenge is simple: Make people want the content we think they need.


The orange line starts with readers seeking what they want. That could be a restaurant review, traffic and travel information or even a story about Gregg’s shared by a friend. They generate the page view, which triggers the revenue, which funds the journalism, and hopefully the loop continues. Note: If a story is clickbait, this line breaks quickly, which is why ‘clickbait’ so often means ‘I’m not interested in that, I’m not going to read it, but I will make a noise about it, because I can.’

At the very least, this orange line is supporting the creation of this content. Done at scale, it can also support the creation of content which journalists would say readers need – but don’t necessarily know they need.

That’s where the blue line begins. We as journalists need to convince people they need these stories. We do that in many ways, including engaging with people, and by learning the lessons of successful ‘want’ content. Get that right and hopefully the the reader’s ‘need’ as we see it becomes the reader’s ‘want’ content in the future.

And, of course, the two sets of content – want content and need content – won’t be read by two exclusive sets of readers, which is why both the orange line and the blue have a link from the bottom row of circles into engagement. The more you engage readers, the more they’ll surely want to spend time with you, the more they’ll generate more page views. And want content and need content begin to merge in the mind of a reader who becomes loyal.

That’s why I think the page view has stood the test of time, and survived being accused of responsibility for so many of journalism’s ills. It’s the start of the story of your newsroom’s success (or otherwise), not the whole story.

Emily Bell’s Tricky podcast had Chris Moran from the Guardian on as guest the other week. The discussion about the page view as a metric is refreshing, but not niave. In other words, the page view is valuable, but it’s what you do with it which determines its impact on journalism

As Steve Dyson noted in his column on Holdthefrontpage this week, it was also possible to obsess too much about newspaper sales, and allow one metric (the sales figure) to distort thoughts on what to put on the front page.

Online, this makes the second tier of metrics critical – the ones which take you beyond quantity towards metrics which give a sense of quality for the reader (although, again, that runs the risk of being over-inferred too).


Unless you have a paywall model or donation system (and it was fascinating to see the Guardian editor Kath Viner wreck the old myth that scale can’t correlate to engagement and therefore to revenue this week) the metrics you probably need to be looking at are the active time spent per page, the page views in visit (also known as recirculation in many newsrooms) and whether a loyal reader generated the page view.

We don’t live in a world where it’s chasing page views vs creating journalism. We’re in a world where page views tell us whether we’re succeeding in getting people to look at our journalism, and whether our journalism is appealing to people, or whether we need to find a way to make it appeal to them.

The page view isn’t the problem. It’s what you do with the data…


Local journalism’s biggest challenge is still waiting to be solved

Here’s my prediction for 2019: We’re going to spend a lot of time talking about how to fund local journalism. Not perhaps the most remarkable of predictions – and certainly in the same league as that of BBC Media Editor Amol Rajan, who says he doesn’t expect the Cairncross Review into quality journalism to save a single local newspaper.

Or this one from Jay Rosen in the US, echoing the thoughts of Rasmus Kleis, predicting that nobody is going to ride to the rescue of journalism:

Cheery huh? But in focusing, as we so often do, on solving the economic problem local journalism faces (actually all journalism, but perhaps most acutely in local journalism), we often neglect to the problem which sits behind it: Whether people care enough about what we do in the first place.

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FOI Friday: How the Local Democracy Reporter scheme is making the most of FOI


It’s just under a year since the contracts were awarded for the Local Democracy Reporting Service, the scheme funded by the BBC which is aiming to ensure more councils are covered in more depth.

But it’s not just through council meeting reports that authorities are being scrutinised – the LDRS reporters are also making fine use of the Freedom of Information Act.

In a rare return for the FOI Friday blog, here are 10 stories shared with the public via the LDRS based on FOI results:

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Journalism is too important to just ignore the money question

The other week, I tried to explain some changes we’d made to the way we cover football in London. It was in response to a post on a Brentford FC fan site by a journalist called Jim Levack, who was annoyed that the titles I work with no longer send a dedicated reporter to every game.

The reason for doing this was simple: The audience being generated from Brentford FC coverage wasn’t big enough to cover the costs of covering Brentford home and away. It’s not the first time such a situation has arisen in journalism, nor will be it be the last.

I also argued that being present at every game, home and away, is not the thing which makes your coverage of a club credible. There are journalists up and down the country, and plenty of people doing the jobs of journalists in non-traditional ways, who prove that. It’s important, of course, but not THE defining attribute of credible club journalism.

This view generated howls of protest from journalism’s online commentators, some still working in the trade, some not. Very few, if any, were typical readers – as we know, real readers rarely enter such debates.

In various debates on various platforms, I was told I didn’t believe in sending people to football matches (wrong), wanted all journalists to copy and paste from a desk (wrong) and that I clearly didn’t have a clue about journalism to think such thoughts (again, wrong, I hope).

I was also told, on more than one occasion, that journalism shouldn’t be about money. That some things are more important than being able to afford doing it.

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What if a degree in PR and journalism was actually good for journalism?

It emerged this week that the University of Salford was running a degree course which combines both PR and journalism, two professions/trades/jobs which are inextricably linked through the skills they are built upon, but poles apart from the view of the world they take.

For as long as I can remember, it’s been reasonably common for people to decide a leap to ‘the dark side’ into public relations is right for them. The reasons are entirely understandable: better hours, better pay, better perks are among the common explanations offered.

Generally, people don’t come back the other way. Why would they? Yet when I have encountered people who have come back the other way, back into newsrooms, they’ve been the people I’ve learnt most from.

I can also think of several occasions where people with journalism degrees chose to work in private companies in what we’d see as PR – be it as copy writers, social media managers or whatever – and they’ve shone when they do decide to land in a regular newsroom, because they bring something different to the newsroom when they arrive.

Salford is not the only university with such a course. Leeds Beckett, University of West of England, Lincoln and Bedfordshire all appear to have similar courses.

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Football journalism and press boxes part 2: The quest for sustainable local journalism

It’s taken two weeks, a lot of hot air (from me included) to get to a place where we can have a sensible debate about how to make football journalism work in the digital age.

What started with a disgruntled journalist’s claims of clickbait, low-quality content and the linking of not covering Brentford to not being on the ground ahead of the Grenfell tragedy, has matured into a debate into a sensible discussion, assuming you don’t spend too much time on holdthefrontpage.

Here’s what triggered Jim Levack’s disquiet: Reach, the company I work for, has changed the way it covers football in London over the last two years. This has resulted in the launch of the rapidly-growing Football.London site, which focuses on Premier League clubs but has also begun to cover Championship clubs and those in other leagues in more depth. 

As a result, coverage of clubs traditionally associated with Reach’s weekly London titles has moved to Our aim is deliver large enough audiences through the mass-reach Premier League clubs to be able to sustain full coverage of clubs with smaller fanbases.

Sadly, at the same time, it was clear the way we covered Brentford – Jim’s club – wasn’t sustainable because the audience needed wasn’t there. So we’re trying to find new ways to cover a club whose fans weren’t turning to us in large enough numbers to maintain the status quo.

I can see where Jim’s frustrations come from, even if his analysis of digital journalism is somewhat off the mark. If you value something, and it’s taken away, it makes you cross.

It is a microcosm of the challenge facing the industry: When our belief in what’s important meets business reality, what do you do?

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