Is Print Dead?

As print fades, the newsroom matters more than ever. 

“…Refresh your browser.” So goes the recent “obit for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution’s print edition”—whose ink dried permanently on New Year’s Eve, ending more than 150 years of print history while moving to fully digital. It’s a terminal notice we’ve seen written, rewritten—and filed prematurely—for decades now.

Just days earlier, nearly 60-year-old Charlotte Magazine announced it would shutter entirely after its December issue. And in Pennsylvania, Pittsburgh will become the largest U.S. city without a daily at all after its nearly 250-year-old Pittsburgh Post-Gazette ceases publication this May—print and digital—following massive financial losses reportedly to the tune of $350M. Read: no journalists, no newsroom, no daily record—leaving 1.2 million people without a dedicated daily. Add to that the gutted Washington Post newsroom under owner Jeff Bezos, underscoring the fragility of the national media infrastructure.

It’s a familiar drumbeat—and an unsettling one. And it begs the question: Is print dead? Or are we confusing the decline of a format with the erosion of something much larger?

Nearly a decade ago, former RM Editor-in-Chief Jane Porter tackled the topic, writing, “there’s something sacred about ink. … Whether we put it on paper or sketch it onto our bodies, there’s no other practical medium we rely on quite as much to express ourselves, tell our stories, commemorate the most important events and celebrate the people in our lives.”

That idea feels even more resonant in today’s popcorn media era—defined by scroll fatigue, disappearing headlines and a (dis)information ecosystem increasingly shaped by algorithms rather than editors.

The announcements in Atlanta, Charlotte and Pittsburgh point to a crucial distinction often lost in the handwringing: This isn’t about print vs. digital. The AJC didn’t stop reporting—it shifted platforms. Charlotte Magazine stopped. Pittsburgh plans to stop. The difference matters. 

“I think it’s a vocabulary problem,” said Duke professor of the practice of economics Michelle Connolly, in research summarizing the national crisis in local journalism. “If local journalism is declining because there’s no demand or need for it, is that a market failure? No.”

According to findings from UNC and Northwestern University, the U.S. has lost more than a third of its newspapers since 2005—nearly two-and-a-half per week—creating vast “news deserts.” More than 200 communities lack access to reliable local reporting, while more than half of U.S. counties are relegated to just one news source, leaving ~55 million Americans with limited access to original local journalism.

The consequences aren’t abstract. Studies consistently link the loss of local reporting to lower civic engagement, higher government spending and rising political polarization. “This research shows the crisis in local news is deepening,” said Medill Local News Initiative founding director Tim Franklin in response to the latest data. “Fewer Americans have access to news they need about their communities to be informed citizens.”

In other words, when local journalism disappears, something far more permanent than ink dries up. Though print, for all its financial challenges, still plays a uniquely stabilizing role in that ecosystem. It slows the news cycle. It forces editorial intention. It creates a tangible, shared record—one not endlessly revised, deleted or buried beneath trending noise. 

Even as audiences increasingly gravitate to digital platforms, print remains a trust anchor, particularly for investigative reporting, long-form storytelling and the kind of accountability journalism that rarely trends on social channels but is essential to a functioning city.

Raleigh knows this tension well. When Raleigh Magazine first checked in with The News & Observer in 2018, the paper was already navigating shrinking circulation, newsroom restructuring and a digital-first mandate. Yet its publisher was clear: As long as readers and advertisers support print, it would endure—not as nostalgia, but as public service.  

But whether inked or not, “the quality of democracy in Raleigh—and everywhere—is directly related to the number of reporters in the field,” shares The Assembly Senior Editor John Drescher, formerly executive editor of N&O and WaPo editor. “Great cities always have journalists who keep public officials honest and engage the community in an ongoing discussion about what it wants to be. There are plenty of journalists who still want to do this kind of work, but we need the support of the community—financially and otherwise.”

That distinction feels even more urgent now. We don’t want to live in a city without a newsroom. There are things a daily newsroom does—covering courts, elections, public records, long-term investigations—that no newsletter, influencer feed or social platform can replicate or replace. And there are things magazines do—context, culture, craft—that daily newsrooms don’t.

“I look at it from a very personal perspective,” former Knight Chair in journalism and digital media economics at the UNC Hussman School Penny Abernathy revealed in her latest standalone report regarding what she calls an increasingly dire situation for local news. “I cannot know in North Carolina what judges to vote for. I depend on an editorial staff to vet the judges. … When we have the editorial staff stripped and not providing that, that [creates] a vacuum.”

It’s not competition. It’s infrastructure. Think of it like season tickets vs. one-off games. When you’re fully invested, you show up consistently, regardless of the win-loss record (Raleighites know this well). Supporting local journalism—through subscriptions, advertising and readership—is the same kind of civic investment. These aren’t symbolic gestures; they’re what keep reporters in seats and real stories on the record.

Print may never return to its former scale. But the relevance of reporting isn’t measured simply by volume—it’s measured by purpose. And in a media landscape increasingly defined by speed, sameness and AI-generated noise, its greatest strength may be the very thing critics once dismissed—its permanence.  

Related Articles

Ink in the Digital Age The Voice of Raleigh The Hottest News of the Summer 2024 Raleigh Significant Stats