Latest news with #affluent
Fast Company
6 days ago
- Business
- Fast Company
5 reasons that towns lose their local newspapers
Why did your hometown newspaper vanish while the next town over kept theirs? This isn't bad luck—it's a systemic pattern. Since 2005, the United States has lost over one-third of its local newspapers, creating 'news deserts' where corruption is more likely to spread and communities may become politically polarized. My research, published in Journalism & Mass Communication Quarterly, analyzes the factors behind the decline of local newspapers between 2004 and 2018. It identifies five key drivers—ranging from racial disparity to market forces—that determine which towns lose their papers and which ones beat the odds. 1. Newspapers follow the money, not community needs You might expect news media to gravitate toward areas where their work is needed most—communities experiencing population growth or facing systemic challenges. But in reality, newspapers, like any business, tend to thrive where the financial resources are greatest. My analyses suggest that local newspapers survive where affluent subscribers and deep-pocketed advertisers cluster. That means wealthy white suburbs keep their watchdogs, while low-income and diverse communities lose theirs. When police brutality spikes, when welfare offices deny claims, when local officials divert funds—these are the moments when communities need their journalists the most. Poor and racially diverse communities often face the harshest policing and interact more with street-level bureaucrats than wealthier citizens. That makes them more vulnerable to government corruption and misconduct. Yet, these same communities are the first to lose their newspapers, because there are no luxury real estate agencies buying ads, and few residents can afford the monthly subscriptions. Without journalistic scrutiny, scholars find that mismanagement flourishes, corruption costs balloon, and the communities most vulnerable to abuse receive the least accountability. This is how news deserts exacerbate inequality. 2. Newspapers don't adequately serve diverse communities Picture this: A newsroom sends its reporters, most of whom are white, to a Black neighborhood—but only after reports of gunshots or building fires. Residents, still in shock, don't want to talk. So journalists call the same three community leaders they always quote, run the tragic story and disappear until the next crisis. This approach, often referred to as 'parachute journalism,' results in shallow coverage that paints the community in a negative light while overlooking its complexities. Year after year, the pattern repeats. The only time residents see their neighborhood in the paper is when something terrible happens. No feature story of the family-owned restaurant celebrating its 20-year anniversary, no reporter at the town hall when the new police chief gets grilled about stop-and-frisk —just the constant drumbeat of crime and crisis. Is it any wonder racially diverse communities stop trusting and paying for that paper? Not when many working-class families of color can barely afford to add a newspaper subscription to their bills. Diverse neighborhoods get hit twice. First, their local papers inadequately represent them. Then, when people understandably turn away, subscriptions drop, advertisers pull back and the outlets shut down, leaving whole communities without a voice. Only in recent years have more media outlets begun to make a concerted effort to engage with and reflect the communities they serve. However, such efforts are often led by newer media organizations with fresh ideologies, while many long-standing media outlets remain stuck in traditional reporting practices, as illustrated in Jacob Nelson's ' Imagined Audiences.' Although my analyses of local newspaper decline from 2004 to 2018 paints a frustrating picture, the emerging trend of community-oriented journalism holds promise for positive changes in diverse communities. 3. Population growth doesn't always save newspapers It's easy to assume that more people = more readers = healthier news organizations. But my research tells a different story: Counties with larger population growth actually saw greater declines in local newspapers. The catch lies in who is moving in: Population growth saves papers only when it comes with wealth. Affluent newcomers bring subscriptions and advertisers' attention. But growth driven by high birth rates, typically seen in less developed areas with more racial and ethnic minorities, doesn't translate to revenue. In short, growth alone isn't enough—it's the type of growth, and the economic power behind it, that matters. This highlights the fragility of market-dependent journalism. The news gap experienced by fast-growing communities may persist where local journalism depends primarily on traditional advertising and subscription revenues rather than diversified revenue sources such as grants and philanthropic donations. The latter, which often focus on community needs rather than profit potential, are more likely to help sustain journalism in areas with significant population growth. 4. Neighbors' newspapers can save yours You'd think that competition between newspapers would be a cutthroat affair. But in an era of decline, my analyses reveal a counterintuitive truth: Your town's paper actually has better odds when nearby communities keep theirs. Rather than competing, neighboring papers often become allies, sharing breaking news, splitting investigative costs and attracting advertisers who want regional reach. While this collaboration can sometimes cause papers to lose their local identity, having some local journalism is still better than none. It ensures some level of accountability, even if the news isn't as focused on each town's unique needs. Resilient local journalism clusters together. When one paper invests in original reporting, its neighbors often benefit too. When regional businesses support multiple outlets, the entire news ecosystem becomes more sustainable. 5. Left or right? Local papers die either way In this highly polarized era, it turns out that there's no significant link between a county's partisan makeup and its ability to keep newspapers. Urban hubs such as Chicago keep robust media thanks to dense populations and corporate advertisers, not because they vote for Democrats. Meanwhile, newspapers in conservative rural areas can survive by cultivating loyal readerships within their communities. In contrast, communities with lower income and a diverse population lose outlets no matter whether they are red, blue, or purple.
Yahoo
22-05-2025
- Automotive
- Yahoo
Market Collapse: Hemi Superbird Goes For Cheap
Read the full story on Backfire News After auctioning in 2022 for a whopping $1.5 million, setting a world record, a 1970 Plymouth Hemi Superbird just auctioned again with no reserve on May 17, bringing in a measly $380,000. While the latter price is still insane, it's also just a quarter of what the classic muscle car pulled in three years some serious price depreciation. You could chalk it up to just a bad showing at Mecum Indy 2025, but we've been seeing this trend building of late. This Hemi Superbird is just a symptom of a larger problem developing in the car collecting hobby. Fifteen years ago, many enthusiasts could still afford to buy at least one of their dream cars. Today, unless they're an insurance or private equity executive, most enthusiasts have found those same rides are well beyond their reach. Values have soared as the affluent discovered they could use classic and even modern exotics as investments. Many have little interest in the vehicles themselves, other than displaying them as works of art in their gallery-like garages, treating the machines gearheads adore as if they were part of a real estate investment portfolio. This trend intensified during the covid era, likely for a number of reasons. Many gearheads bitterly decided they could never afford the car of their dreams as they watched even some dogs get pricey. The market was out of control. Now we're in a period of correction, or what some would call a crash. Just how big it is and how long it will last isn't clear. And we don't know if investors will flood it yet again, pumping up values in a sick game once more. But many, not all, collector cars are seeing their values plummet. We've noticed a curious trend among auction houses. Instead of openly publishing individual results, many are putting such information in hard-to-find places, requiring users to register for access, or are just plain not releasing the numbers at all. If we didn't know better, we'd say they were trying to hide something. The fact this Mopar Wing Car saw its value on the open market dive 75 percent in just three years shows how bad things have become. At this rate, we just might be able to one day afford a dream car after all. See this Superbird's lot listing for yourself here. Images via Mecum Auctions
Times
17-05-2025
- Business
- Times
How the Sunday Times Rich List 2025 was compiled
The Rich List, The Sunday Times's annual examination of the finances of Britain's most affluent individuals and families, is an essential read. This year — the 37th edition — has been one of the toughest to compile due to Donald Trump's tariffs and the ensuing stock market turbulence. It shows the third year in a row that collective wealth has fallen and the biggest drop in the number of UK billionaires in the Rich List history. It is a stark reflection of the state of UK wealth. The Sunday Times Rich List 2025 is based on our estimates of the minimum wealth of Britain's 350 richest people or families. The valuations were carried out between November 2024 and April 28, 2025. The compilers of the
Vogue
08-05-2025
- Lifestyle
- Vogue
Don't Call Me 'Mama'
I was such an easy mark. The day I discovered that I was pregnant, in January of 2020, I googled what to do when you get pregnant, and instantly the brands supplied me with their answers. They offered me leggings and belly oils and a new identity, too: They all called me mama. Not mother, or mommy, or mom. Mama. Its eerie ubiquity signaled the kickoff of a promotional campaign. I was being rebranded as a mother, and motherhood itself was being rebranded through me. Mama is actually an old word—the Oxford English Dictionary guesses that it came straight from the mouth of babes, as it's 'characteristic of early infantile vocalization'—but now it's been fully integrated into the language of marketing. In 2015, Elissa Strauss traced the rise of 'mama' as affluent white women began cribbing it from Black and Latina communities. They were using it to style themselves as alternative wellness gurus, promoting homeschooling, cloth diapering, and organic feeding solutions. Now their mothering style is inescapable, and the word has acquired a totalizing power. The newsletter for the maternity dress company says: Everything in moderation, mama. The novelty mug sold over Instagram says: Deep breaths, mama. The mirror in the airport breastfeeding pod says: Lookin' good, mama. Mama is not exactly new, but it's new enough that it wasn't applied to my own mother in the 1990s, or her jeans. The mama supplants all the other mother types that have come before her. She transcends the pattern set by the refrigerator mother, the soccer mom, or the mommy blogger. Her pharmaceutical drugs are not mother's little helpers, her glass of wine is not mommy juice, and her mind has not yet dissolved into mom brain. Using a fresh term lends an optimistic gloss, seeming to rescue motherhood from the cultural forces that have rendered past generations of mothers uncool, infantile, and generally unfit for public life. Of course, with every rebrand, the cycle begins anew. Mama aims to transmit a sense of earthiness, sensuality, and above all, solidarity between the mother and the brand. There is a real smarminess to it, a presumed intimacy where none exists. It's the sound of a supplement start-up throwing an adult sleepover inside your phone, and it feeds on the isolation built into the structures of American parenthood. A 2021 Harvard report found that 51% of mothers of small children felt 'serious loneliness'; their degree of isolation was second only to young adults between the ages of 18 to 25. Both groups are Americans at transformative and destabilizing life stages. The brand capitalizes on the mother's aloneness and says: I see you, mama. But all it sees is an advertising category.
