Nepal’s media houses—whether or not they accept it—are on the brink of a land grab. For years now, they have made piecemeal attempts at online engagement, maintaining unwieldy websites whose only function is to reproduce what can already be found in print. But this state of flux cannot last, and sooner or later one publisher or other must surely break ranks, investing in the internet and stealing a whole new audience from under the nose of its competitors.
Journalistic mainstays the world over have, in the last few years, faced a relentless battle both with and for the internet and social media (or collectively, ‘new media’).The stakes are high: editors are increasingly required to think in terms of ‘the brand’ rather than ‘the product’, and promote it via multiple mediums—competing against social networks, on and offline competitors and, through websites which aggregate stories from all over the net, even their own published material.
Here in Nepal there is no such scramble for cyberspace. Sure, all major newspapers are represented online by often rather cumbersome, confusing portals that provide digital readers with rudimentary access to material featured in their latest print edition. But the more discerning digital reader will notice that this material often appears unformatted, rendering vital contextual information invisible to readers online. Moreover, the usability of the current crop of Nepali news sites (complete with seizure-inducing animations advertising overseas calling options and dating or marriage services) does a professional disservice to both the writer and reader, and harms the reputation of the publisher in the process.
Of course, these publishers have good cause to be wary of investing in the internet. The arrival of new media combined with a global drop in advertising revenue has seen the closure of countless local papers (particularly in the US), while national stalwarts including both the New York and British Times have resorted to online paywalls and newsroom layoffs just to stay in the game. Attempts to exist without a web presence have been quickly thwarted by more innovative competitors, while many outlets who have embraced the web have often struggled to do so profitably. It must also be noted that easy, affordable and reliable access to the internet is still out of reach for many in Nepal, with some studies suggesting that as few as 10 percent of Nepalis are able to browse regularly.
Perhaps these concerns, to some extent, explain why bosses have avoided investing in new media, choosing instead to spend eye-watering sums on the old. The English-language press in particular has embraced international syndication (led by this paper’s 2011 tie-in with the International Herald Tribune). Somewhat ironically though, much of the syndicated material used by Nepal’s newspapers is already available for free on the comparatively futuristic websites of its original publishers—and the young, educated readership these papers covet and cater for are web-savvy enough to know it.
Indeed, the Nepali appetite for the web is clear: there are 1.2 million Facebook users registered in Nepal, a number that rises with the opening of every street-corner cyber cafe and the launch of every Indian-made smartphone.
Nepali journalism found its online voice towards the end of the civil war, with the blogosphere providing a powerful outlet for reportage and popular dissent among many who were otherwise silenced by the state-sanctioned restrictions on old media sources.
Further, data published earlier this month by the Centre for Media Research in Nepal shows that journalists themselves have continued to engage with the internet: promoting their work on Twitter and Facebook and engaging directly with their audiences. When they can, that is. Incredibly, staff at one major television news network is all-but denied internet access—allegedly in the name of virus protection—and they, instead, take turns on a solitary web-connected PC.
About the restrictions, one affected reporter said: “I think they’re trying to tell us to focus on our work and not use the internet, when the truth is we need the internet to do our job.”
And what a job it could be. News websites elsewhere are used to host exclusive, web-only content, audio and video coverage, liveblogging of major events, and, most importantly—greater space for reporting from all over Nepal. The possibilities for fostering a free and open exchange of ideas and information are practically endless. Some will perhaps argue that internet speed is not yet quick enough in Nepal, or that access is still not widespread. But it is here that invention can play mother to necessity: Nepal’s media must not neglect their role as trendsetters. They can and must grow audiences by enticement, rather than waiting for them to demand more and better.
Of course, media houses may be concerned about the cost of implementing and maintaining a thoroughly modern web presence. They may also worry that offering more free web content will dissuade readers from going out and buying the paper. These concerns are not illegitimate, but they do represent a disturbingreluctance to engage with new methods of reporting, publishing and income generation that are—if global trends are anything to go by—bound to engulf Nepali journalism sooner or later anyway.
Publishers world over clamber over one another in order to get ahead in the competition. In Nepal, the lively journalistic scene perpetually aches for new challenges, developments and technologies, while its paymasters prefer to play it safe. In spite of this, Nepal’s news media finds itself in a unique position: a winner-takes-all scenario in which the first media house to offer a comprehensive online experience may well win over the next generation of readers. Complacency and concerns about the bottom line must be temporarily eschewed in favour of daring. And when it comes to online innovation, whoever dares, wins.
The author is an international development studies graduate who has worked as a journalist in Nepal.
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