Written by Amy Selwyn
Illustrations by Wendy MacNaughton

Sad joke making the rounds among the nihilists in the crowd.

Question: “What’s the future of journalism?”

Answer: “Nothing. It’s a trick question. There is no future for journalism.”

Ouch.

Some people say journalism is a dead profession. Better off building responsive design websites in your loft in Williamsburg, they quip. Leave the journalism to passersby with smartphones and a thing for 140-character stories that can later be amended, edited or deleted with a goofy smiley face and a self-deprecating, “Whoops, fucked up. My bad.”

Or, for those with a slightly less potent case of cynicism, journalism still exists but it is increasingly about the use of technology and devices. It’s curation across platforms rather than storytelling across the world.

So when six journalism students — a group from Missouri School of Journalism and a group from Bilgi University in Istanbul, Turkey — flew to Marrakech, Morocco last Fall to participate in a big international news conference — there was a lot on the line.

What would “the kids” tell us about the future of journalism?

Would they talk about technology and drones and Google Glass? Would they say that whatever news people want they’ll get from Twitter and a few select, trusted brands…like The New York Times… or Red Bull?

How would the “kids” interact with The Elders — the execs attending the conference and representing the big guns of the world’s traditional newsrooms?

Four things happened that shed some light on how to answer the question about the future of journalism.

First, the students flipped for CNN’s Chief International Correspondent, Christiane Amanpour. She was in Morocco to open the conference with a keynote about new realities in the news business.

“Stop looking to save money by cutting back our news resources,” she said to the top brass sitting in the audience. “That is just plain stupid.”

Game, set, match, Amanpour.

After her keynote, Christiane spent some private time with the students and gave them three pieces of advice, they said:

1. You cannot take a side.

2. You must be objective.

3. You have to be prepared not to be liked.

This was a big moment for these young journalists, I suspect. Because they are part of a generation that questions the legitimacy of the claim that journalists cannot be activists. Or, more accurately, must not be activists. “You cannot take a side.”

A takeaway from this? Young journalists respect the real pros of the industry. Good sign for the future.

That leads to the second big thing that happened.

The Bilgi University students presented a video they had made about what it means to be a journalist today in Turkey, a place with more jailed media workers than any other country in the world (yes, including China) and a grim record on freedom of the press.

In this video, they focused on the May 2013 protests in Istanbul’s Gezi Park. The protests started as people opposed the urban development of the park into a shopping center and army barracks and then grew to condemn Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s encroachment on Turkish secularism.

The video flipped back and forth from footage captured by protesters (much of it on smartphones) — riot police firing tear gas and water cannons into the crowd — to scenes from Turkish television showing cooking shows and, in an especially absurd moment, a documentary on penguins being aired on CNN Turk.

In Turkey, said the Bilgi students, the media was silent on the topic of Gezi. And social media filled the void. The story unfolded on Twitter and Facebook thanks to groups such as @140journos.

These young journalists worked alongside citizens to witness and report the story. They didn’t take a side. They reported.

Takeaway from this? The devices and the platforms are non-traditional; the craft is no different from the professional journalism practiced by anyone else in the industry.

And then the third big thing happened.

The Mizzou “kids” took the stage for the final presentation, following their Turkish colleagues with a view toward what we will be talking about five years from now. What’s in store?

Drones. Flying a camera in over a story, gathering the video and, whoosh, back out again. No man/woman power needed.

But, of course, that isn’t the full picture. Because, still, at the heart of any well reported story, said the American students, will be the journalist.

“Meet Alex. He’s the journalist of 2018.”

In his khakis and his baseball cap, Alex is a cross between a model for a brand like Tommy Hilfiger and a promotional campaign for a UN agency.

A super poised young woman, just a few months from graduation, talked about the reality of Alex’s life. She predicted that Alex’ll be a full multimedia journalist, filing for a variety of platforms — everything from online to radio and video. Blogging. Posting to Medium, perhaps…

“He’ll carry a microphone and a tripod and at least two cameras. Alex will wear comfortable shoes. He will carry some small bills and some aspirin, too.”

Alex will be traveling the world. Heading to hot spots, conflict areas, hostile environments. He’ll be filing stories, shooting still images and video, recording audio for radio reports. Multitasking in the transmedia world. Doing more and more and more. Meeting almost superhuman demands for ever more content. And feeding the beast of news channels (TV, radio, YouTube, etc.), online sites, blogs, longform, short-form, stills, video, audio.

Takeaway? The journalism of the future is the journalism of today. But on steroids.

Finally, the fourth thing happened.

A 30-something award-winning photojournalist, himself a dashing figure with impossible good looks and big talent, stood and spoke.

“This is totally irresponsible,” he said. “Don’t fall for the romantic notion of the young journalist out there covering all kinds of stories in all kinds of places. War zones. No one can do all of what you’re asking Alex to do and stay safe. This model is not sustainable.”

He said too much is being expected of journalists. That asking people to step out into a world armed with their objectivity and a slew of products from Silicon Valley is not the answer. That the whole thing needs rethinking.

This guy actually knows more than a thing or two about war zones. He is a war photographer and he works in places like Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan…hot spots.

No lie, it was an awkward moment. Like a big dose of reality suddenly pouring down over the scene, wiping away the Disney tableau when it seemed journalism would survive forever and just get better and better and come with lots more fun toys.

Takeaway? There are consequences to the vision of the future that requires journalists to be super-human storytellers, zipping around like drones (yes, truly, drones), covering the world, doing it all faster and shorter, then faster and longer, then faster and more visually, then faster and faster and faster and faster still. Tweeting in between news reports. Posting photos ‘cause those get more RTs.

Wish there were a tidier ending for this piece. Something to bring these disparate thoughts in for a smooth and elegant landing.

But there isn’t.

We’re at a crossroads. Like the streets of Marrakech — as charming and exotic as they are dusty and dirty — where we met to talk about news and the new realities of the industry of keeping the world informed, it’s a mish-mash, really.

Is there a place for journalists in a digital world? Yeah. Hell, yeah. Will there continue to be such a thing as “real” journalists — professionally trained and committed to ethics and standards and craft? Yup. I believe that’s a yes, too.

As long as mankind exists, there will be storytellers. Those with a passion for explaining and contextualizing the world for others, those who connect the dots and weave a coherent narrative. This passion transcends generations, tools and technology, and will be with us forever.

What’s less clear going forward, however, is how much of the job we’ll be happy to leave to technology. And, likewise, how much of the job we’ll give to the future Alex’s of the world.

And somewhere in that balance is an even bigger question: Will we ask so much of Alex that what we end up with is neither journalism nor craft but a thin veneer of a story gathered on the run for some platform on some device on the way to filing for yet another platform? Little more than a headline. Or a tweet.

Can we really learn about the world when our news becomes so shallow?

And what is our responsibility here, as readers? A journalist does not work in a vacuum. She has a responsibility, yes, and so do we. We the people are accountable, as well.

As with love, we get the journalism we believe we deserve. We demand tweets. We demand shorter and shallower and quicker and easier to digest. Headlines. Soundbites. No time for much more, we say, even as we dedicate ever greater portions of our time to being wired up and connected.

I couldn’t help but come away from the experience feeling that somehow we — the audience — are as much a part of the answer as the journalists and the media companies. If we demand deeper truths we’ll get them. And in so doing we’ll support a journalistic practice that digs deeper and searches wider — for the new voice, for the silent and for the silenced. The broader perspective.

Our world becomes more complex as it becomes simultaneously more connected. This world needs the people who read these stories as much as it needs the people who have the courage to write them.

The joke that has all the nihilists in the room giggling is way off the mark.

This news junkie believes there is a future for journalism. Indeed. Those six young people proved that point to me in a big way. What we don’t know — and won’t know ‘til we get there (“Are we there yet?”) — is what it’s going to look like. But it will look like something. Because it will exist. Journalism will not die.

And so, as the afternoon sun began to set over the desert hotel that hosted the conference, a shaky baton was prepared to be passed. From old (digital immigrant) journo to young (digital native) journo.

And the elegiac call of the muezzin was heard in the not so very distant streets. The call to the faithful.