Chris Banyas
Editor-in-Chief
I was informed on Friday, April 1, that ASISU has voted to cut the funding of The Bengal, in an effort to take us into the online and digital frontier.
In this world, that is, the world presented and approved by ASISU, the print edition of The Bengal would become extinct, a relic of a bygone era.
Is this the inevitable end?
No.
In the aftermath of the meeting at which this news was delivered to me, I came to sometime later in a sort of fugue state. I was overcome with sadness, rage and slight hunger pangs.
I think kids these days call this being hangry.
I have so many things to say on this issue, so many things that I feel must be said, and so many things that will be said and will probably not make a damn bit of difference.
While this entire column is representative of my opinion, and can be as vitriolic, vehement and vindictive as I want it to be, I will try to present things as objectively as possible.
That is, after all, the purpose of journalism.
The issue of whether or not The Bengal should continue within the print medium has been debated by ASISU over the last several years.
A continuing decline in advertising is certainly a contributing, and valid, reason for these ongoing debates.
And before I continue, I feel that it needs to be said that the students who comprise ASISU, both at the senatorial level, and the executive, are just that: students. Just the same as the students who comprise the ranks of The Bengal are the same: students.
Around the time my staff and I collectively decided to take the paper in a new, more relevant direction, I was called into a meeting with ASISU Student Body President Mackenzie Smith.
While the topic of discussion was initially a student complaint at the conduct of a journalist, it rapidly turned to more serious matters.
Two significant things happened in that meeting: first, Mackenzie said, in no uncertain terms, that I needed to decide between continuing along the path that we had just begun to blaze and the possibility that this could result in severe consequences to The Bengal for the next year.
I’ll put that another way: Mackenzie Smith told me that I needed to choose between doing the right thing and maybe not having a paper the next year as a result of this.
My response to that statement was essentially that I would never not do what I felt was the right thing, the thing that journalism exists to do.
My answer to that question will never change.
And it really sucks that now this has happened. It caused me to seriously rethink my approach to things, to rethink the stand which we ended up taking.
“In short, whoever does violence to truth or its expression eventually mutilates justice, even though he thinks he is serving it. From this point of view, we shall deny to the very end that a press is true because it is revolutionary; it will be revolutionary only if it is true, and never otherwise.”
Eventually I came to my senses, and remembered that, while things may look bleak (they always do from the bottom of a well) all is not lost, and the very thing that would be a victory to certain people would be the compromising of ideals…which I will not accept.
The second significant thing that happened in that meeting was this: after our somewhat heated exchange settled down, she told me that she really didn’t care about what we were doing, that she admired it even. She just didn’t want to have to deal with being caught between the administration and us.
Again, I’ll put that another way for you. Mackenzie Smith didn’t care what we did as long as she was not inconvenienced.
Inconvenienced by the administration pressuring her to do something about The Bengal.
There probably isn’t any way for this piece to not come off as vindictive, but I genuinely hope it does not.
Mackenzie, like myself and anyone else in a student held position, is merely trying to do the best she can with what she’s been given.
That does not mean I have to agree with the way in which they choose to conduct themselves.
Again, is the decision to take The Bengal entirely online and eliminate a presence in print as a result of things like this, of things like our critical approach to the administration?
No.
At least not on paper.
Whether or not these were the major deciding factors in the overall decision may never be objectively known…what you can prove and whatnot.
But I feel the need to try and paint the complete picture.
Our yearly budget totals just around $60,000, at least the budget for this past year. This includes the printing allocation of $6,000 dollars for the year.
Our distribution percentage has far exceeded that of previous years, with the percentage of papers picked up clocking in at between 67 to 75 percent.
And, to be fair, a large reason for this is that we lowered the number of printed copies from around 2,000 to 1,200.
What you would think, is that in support of serving the student body, in support of the increased attention garnered by the publication, our budget would be increased, and the number of printed copies would be raised.
That’s what you would think.
We have 21 distribution points scattered throughout campus, where students and faculty alike have become accustomed to finding the weekly edition of the paper.
How much was invested in those distribution points? How much time was spent placing them, printing posters for them, and doing upkeep on them.
Well, I can tell you that, just with the time I spent doing those things, it is a substantial amount.
Now back to the issue of advertising.
Yes our advertising numbers have been short this year, but the decision to move into an online only environment effectively murders any chance at raising funds through advertising.
So while you might talk about the long-term vision of modernizing The Bengal, and about the “death of print media” (which I find to be a very convenient combination of words for those making decisions about funding but not necessarily true in every case) you should also talk about how this move neuters one very effective means of revenue.
More on my feelings on the matter.
I absolutely view this as a retaliatory action by the administration, and the sycophantic members of ASISU.
I absolutely find this to be the wrong decision.
I absolutely intend to do everything I can to keep this publication from imploding in the wake of these events.
Those whose budgets are cut rarely agree with those cutting them.
The ranks of The Bengal are comprised of extremely talented individuals, individuals that, I hope, will not lose heart in the face of this news, but take it in stride and continue to conduct themselves as they have been, continue to enable the function of the press as it was originally intended: accountability.
“A free press can, of course, be good or bad, but, most certainly without freedom, the press will never be anything but bad.”
As much as I strongly intend to not let this be the deciding factor in this issue, I will freely admit that it made me ask myself this question: “Is this all worth it?”
I spent a lot of time thinking things over after that meeting on Friday, and one thing that kept popping into my head was a quote from Dr. Thomas Terry, an outspoken advocate of journalism that once taught at this very institution.
What he said was, and this may not be exact, but the sentiment is, “You can tell a good journalist by how few people show up to their funeral.”
I was told that while the budget was being slashed and we were going to have to move online, it was understood that we would need new equipment, programs etc. to enable this transition.
This would be paid for out of the ASISU contingency fund, a fund that, I am quite curious about.
So how about we fund the printing of the paper with that money?
I just cannot see in an objective analysis how cutting printing and going digital better serves the student body, which is what this entire discussion SHOULD be about.
