Stop the Presses

Thomas Friedman had an interesting op-ed in last Sunday’s New York Times about how technology has allowed anyone and everyone to be a photographer, moviemaker, and reporter. Cameras on cell phones, YouTube, and the rising number of blogs (like this one) allow people to share gossip, rumors, opinions, speculation, and insights.

Friedman is right, of course. When the new Fourth Estate is anybody with a cell phone, blog, camera or video camera, you are always on–whether you’re sitting at the airport, entering the restroom, or leaving an angry voicemail on your daughter’s mobile phone.

The higher you go–the more powerful you are, the more well-known, the more prestigious your position–the more you are a target. In an era where news charades as entertainment, there is nothing more entertaining than taking a former hero for a fall.

If you’ve got farther to fall and more to lose than the guy standing next to you, just remember that that guy may be pointing a camera phone in your direction.

When Paris Hilton was recently released from jail, or when she went back to jail after being released the first time, one only needed to turn on the television to confirm that the Fourth Estate, long on life support, is now near death. Case in point: The Project for Excellence in Journalism found that Fox News dedicated a mere 6 percent of its daytime programming hours in Q1 2007 to coverage of the war in Iraq–by contrast, Anna Nicole Smith’s untimely demise captured 17 percent of daytime coverage during the same period.

Twenty years ago, with the reversal of the Fairness Doctrine, media conglomerates focused as never before on serving the dual masters of profit and public service. With Paris Hilton, any balancing act that was intended is clearly over and profit, always the heavy favorite, has won.

There’s nothing wrong with news becoming entertainment, as long as we realize this ‘news’ is no longer independent, unfiltered, substantive, or socially valuable. We simply need to stop pretending. If our news is entertainment, then it is no longer news. The Paris Hilton debacle (and ensuing media coverage) is not a distraction but, unfortunately, a reflection of what we have become.

That, and only that, is why these sundry stories of Paris and Anna Nicole, and whoever’s next, merit our attention.

The promise of television is to let us see what’s happening in the rest of the world—from the war in Iraq, to the atrocities occurring in Darfur, or even the concert for Diana in Wembley Stadium. Critically, it is also the window on how the world sees us. It has become our ambassador to the world because it shows the world what we value and what we think is important.

The Iranians and the Botswanans and the Paraguayans may well conclude that we prize the Paris Hilton saga over sound Middle East policy, due process, and the independence of our judiciary.

Note to executives doing less-than-scrupulous things during their ‘down time’: Let the recent situation with Wellpoint SFO David Colby serve as a warning to you. Should your personal life start to impede on your professional life, your company may have no choice but to let you go.

As far as I can tell (and granted, I wasn’t in the internal meetings held among Colby and senior management) Wellpoint’s senior managers had no other choice but to do what they did. The executives of the health care company have an obligation to protect their brand, their company, their board and their shareholders. With recent changes to Sarbanes-Oxley regarding corporate ethics, companies have a vested interest in being more decisive on these kinds of actions, and in protecting their ethical culture.

Colby’s situation was aggravated by two factors–the nature of his job, and the nature of his indiscretions. Colby’s position gave him fiduciary responsibility; his character and trustworthiness were integral to his ability to perform the job. Had Colby been VP of Marketing, or had he been caught driving drunk rather than seemingly living a double life, Wellpoint would have had more options in how they proceeded. For example, if alcohol was a problem, the company could have sent him to a rehabilitation center. Unfortunately, his position and the facts of his case narrowed those options completely.

My prediction? Give Colby about 18 months to disappear from the public spotlight, and then keep your eye out for a far-less-visible mid-level company announcing that he’s joined them as CFO.