Introduction

Newly installed Japanese Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi swept to power on the strength of a slightly radical slogan: "Reform with no sacred cows." Tired of a decade-long stretch of stagnant economic growth, Japan aches to regain the vitality and prosperity of its 1980s heyday, when Japanese banks fueled construction around the globe and the yen was mighty. To Koizumi, the ensuing collapse was largely the result of Japan's unwillingness to adapt, its stubborn insistence on adhering to outmoded institutions and practices despite the onset of the Information Age. Reform, he insists, can only succeed if Japan accepts a sweeping overhaul that will dismantle many antiquated systems.

Though Koizumi's edict applies directly to Japan's economy, he could just as easily be addressing the plight of the media. Journalists have been caught relatively unaware by the acceleration of technological progress, and they are struggling to adapt to a world of instantaneous transmission. Notoriously pessimistic, many fear that the Internet and other newfangled devices will cripple their ability to deliver in-depth, accurate reportage. Others worry that their profession will become devalued, as anyone with a 56k modem and a working knowledge of HTML will be able to spread information and call themselves journalists.

But all the fretting doesn't change the situation--a true revolution is in progress, a shakeup that will roil some of journalism's most basic tenets. At the fifth U.S.-Japan Media Dialogue, much of the discussion centered on how technology is changing the day-to-day duties of a working journalist. The Internet received special attention, as the rise of "pervasive computing" promises to unleash a tidal wave of information that will challenge journalists to redefine their role. "What happens when the entire world is instrumented real-time, and journalists come in after the fact?" asked a veteran technology reporter for a major American newspaper. "The Web has become its own reporting mechanism. We're no longer reporting breaking news."

That trend will doubtless continue for the foreseeable future, thanks to the proliferation of cheap, powerful computers geared toward the consumer market. Processors for supercomputers and personal digital assistants are manufactured on the same fabrication line. Intel's newest chip is priced at just $358 per unit in quantity. Children's toys now contain the sort of raw processing power that was formerly the sole domain of mainframes; Microsoft's soon-to-debut Xbox gaming console has more graphics capabilities than a high-priced office computer. "In the future," predicted an American journalist, "companies making the fastest computers will be making things to go under Christmas trees."

The next few years will also witness the decline of the personal computer in favor of smaller, more versatile machines. PC penetration has plateaued at around 50 percent of American households, and will likely begin to decline as alternatives like Web-enabled interactive television and high-speed PDAs--such as the next generation of Palm Pilots and Blackberrys--begin to hit the market. In Japan, the PC phenomenon never quite took off, for a variety of reasons ranging from high Internet access rates to the small size of teenagers' bedrooms. Instead, the country has gone mad for i-mode, a mobile phone that doubles as a miniature Web browser.

The ubiquity of such devices is already spurring a greater demand for constant information. Consumers will no longer settle for periodic news delivery--once in the morning (in the newspaper) and once in the evening (on the network news). Journalism is turning into a commodity akin to restaurant cuisine, which must suit a wide array of tastes and schedules. And journalists are struggling to keep pace as they discover that speed and quality are all too often antithetical to one another.

But consumers are not automatons who simply want to be showered with raw data. The media environment may be changing at breakneck speed, but some aspects of human nature will be slow to change. "You can think of all these uses for technology, but how will people really want to live their lives?" asked one Asia-based American correspondent. "Are they really going to want to watch streaming video on their phone?...People love mobile phones because they can talk to people--voice is the single biggest killer app in history...At a certain point, human nature has to enter into these discussions."

The Dialogue's participants were thus challenged to determine how best to strike a balance between radical change and old-fashioned journalistic values. Consumers may want instant coverage of breaking news, but they also crave smart analysis; they may want to hear from alternative editorial voices, but they want to retain the services of dependable, long-standing media brands. Journalists may have a difficult time adjusting to those disparate demands, but they will have little choice in the matter. In a media climate that is undergoing such seismic shifts, journalists must learn to peacefully co-exist with--and, yes, even take advantage of--the Internet, the digital camera, and the wired mobile phone. And there can be no sacred cows.

I. The Newsroom's Uncertain Future

On May 22, 2001, an astonishing rumor swept through the Capitol Hill press corps. Senator James Jeffords of Vermont was preparing to end his lifelong affiliation with the Republican party, which he feared was tilting too far to the right. His defection would hand the Democrats their first Senate majority since 1994 and wreak havoc on President George W. Bush's ability to push through his conservative legislative agenda.

It was the kind of groundbreaking story that has historically been the chief mainstay of daily newspapers. But by the time The New York Times and The Washington Post hit newsstands the following morning, words of Jeffords' dilemma was already passe. Internet users had known of the pending defection for nearly a full day, thanks to the Reuters and Associated Press headlines featured on Yahoo!, AOL, and other heavily trafficked Web sites. The powerful troika of cable news channels--CNN [http://www.cnn.com], MSNBC, and Fox --had focused on little else for the previous 24 hours, deploying an army of correspondents from Washington, DC, to Brattleboro, VT, to file a constant stream of "man-on-the-street" stories. Even the newspapers' own Web sites had scooped the "dead tree" editions, posting fact-filled updates throughout the day.

No one is quite sure how newspapers and other traditional media outlets can remain relevant in this high-tech environment. Consumers are no longer content to wait for the six o'clock news to learn about the day's events, to say nothing of the next morning's newspaper. Journalism organizations are coping with an increased demand for instantaneous news, transmitted via broadband lines or the wireless spectrum rather than paper. And veteran journalists are wondering whether they'll be able to keep pace with the innovations. "From what I've gathered," noted one Dialogue participant, a Japanese broadcast journalist, "the discussion centers on this: Is it possible for us to adapt to this new framework and still practice high-quality journalism?"

There is, of course, great reason for optimism. Advanced technology has dramatically reduced the cost of news delivery, particularly for broadcasters. One Dialogue attendee noted that video can be delivered via the Internet at around 1/100th the cost of terrestrial transmission. Digital recorders and editing software have eliminated the need for massive on-site production crews; now, a lone 23-year-old neophyte journalist can shoot, produce and transmit a 3- to 4-minute story with relative ease. And the Web provides print operations with the means to eliminate ink and paper expenditures.

Technological gizmos are also facilitating some dazzling advances in reportage. When an American EP-3 spy plane made an emergency landing on the Chinese island of Hainan in April 2001, CNN obtained exclusive material from a correspondent equipped with a satellite video phone. Because his equipment was so lightweight and easy-to-use, the reporter was able to elude government censors and deliver some relatively crisp footage; just a few years ago, CNN would probably have settled for a mere voice report accompanied by a static graphic of the region.

But the new technology is also altering how consumers prefer to digest their news. The Internet has caused what one Dialogue speaker terms "a mania for brevity" among readers, especially for those who use tortoise-paced dial-up modems. Slow connection speeds cause readers to prefer shorter stories devoid of rich graphics, which take much less time to download. This is particularly true among users of i-mode, DoCoMo's Internet-ready mobile phone, which claims over 22 million customers in Japan. The miniature screen can accommodate little besides headlines and brief summaries, so consumers of digital news often miss out on in-depth analysis. As one independent Japanese journalist grumbled: "i-mode isn't for serious news--just baseball scores." American mobile devices have yet to feature comparable speed--phones designed to use the clunky Wireless Access Protocol (WAP) have floundered--but handheld computers like the Blackberry are beginning to make a splash. Though spectrum issues are forestalling the development of true third-generation (3G) wireless networks --the Pentagon is unwilling to relinquish its electromagnetic holdings, and there are too many competing standards--a substitute known as 2.5G should be widely available in the next 2 to 3 years. These systems will allow for "always-on" Internet access, which should bolster the number of Americans viewing news tidbits on their personal digital assistants (PDAs).

More prominent has been the proliferation of wireless local area networks (WLANs), which permit laptop users to establish Web link-ups at cafes, airports and public parks. One protocol that is mushrooming is the vanilla-sounding 802.11b, which provides high-speed Internet access via radio waves. Mobile computers equipped with 802.11b antennae have become the de rigeur accessory for budding geeks, the perfect tool to keep them plugged into a neverending supply of e-mail and news. That hunger for constant, bite-sized information has seemingly caught journalists off guard. Used to doling out stories at set times, according to set formulas, they are clambering to keep up with the demand. Unfortunately, the speediest journalist is not always the best journalist. One American reporter recounted his experience covering a Singapore Airlines plane crash in Taipei. Ordered to visit the scene and file a story for his newspaper's Web site, he immediately hopped in a cab. Unable to find out much more beyond what the Taiwanese media were reporting, he filed a short story with few details. Just minutes later, however, his editor called with an almost laughable request--could he do a live Internet chat about the crash? "I didn't know anything about the causes, anything about whether there were Americans on the flight," he said. "I did the best I could, but I couldn't do much at all...I remember thinking,