 to introduce this last session, the closing session, Alberto E. Bargwin. Thank you, Robin. Thanks very much. Thanks, everybody. I hope I think I can say safely since we have a fantastic crowd. The last session is always a bit of a problem with people making reservations that look OK when you make them and then turn out to give you not enough time. But I'm glad to see all of you here. I want to thank all of you for such an active job of listening and participating and engaging in the breakout groups and the general sessions. I'd like to thank Robin, of course, for her 13th annual performance. And my colleagues at Knight Foundation, lots of them have been in and out over the course of the last couple of days, particular thanks to Susan Gomez and her staff who did such a good job of making all of this happen smoothly. We have a date for 2021. It'll be March 1st and 3rd. So I understand there's a snowstorm predicted for most of the northern United States on March 30th, February 28th. So be sure to make your reservations early. As before, we have yellow cards on each table. So in the Q&A with AG, you'll want to get your questions in early and maybe often in a Chicago kind of tradition. So be sure to have them filled out. This has been, I think, one of, if not the best, one of our very best conferences for the level of engagement and the kind of energy that I saw and felt and heard in the sessions and in the conversations in the hallway. It's also remarkable to look at, to think about the differences. Then and now, I was talking with Judy Woodruff earlier after her interview this morning. And she was remembering that very first conference and the discussion that day, the big shocking presentation, was Diane Lynch, who was the dean of the Ithaca School of Journalism. And her talk was what your kids are doing today on Facebook. And the audience, this audience, was absolutely shocked because they had never heard of such a thing. This was the audience that still said 98% of their news came from newspapers. So this has been quite an evolution to go from that to listening to Tim Berners-Lee talk about solid and to talk about owning your own data in a completely different way of thinking about the digital world. The level of sophistication of this audience is astonishing. The level of complexity about the regulations that we've been discussing has been really notable. The tension of opposing ideas, as we saw earlier. The tension created by that. The beauty of the solutions that some of you have developed at the very practical, local level from 47 states. But to listen to people who were stunned 13 years ago, talking about iterations on information projects in different communities that have matured, I think, is also a wonderful metric. We have 20 or so representatives from foundations in the state of Georgia who are considering this as a main subject of philanthropy. This is all, I think, really very, very hopeful. We should all remember Tim's recollection of a time when people would say, well, why do I need to use the internet? I've got access through AOL. And another time when people had to have clicks explained, had to have hot links explained, well, what does that do? And how do you use that? These things are impossible to imagine until they're real. And they're real now. Solid is real now. These are things that we live with and have become a part of us. And remember that when we first started this, the first smartphone hadn't even been announced. So this is all part of living in the media world we do today. I'm finally really inspired and affirmed by your discussion, affirmed in my belief from back then that there really is a role for philanthropy in trust, media, and democracy. That role in with a commitment not to enterprise, not to profit, but to democracy, a commitment to make the democracy effective, a commitment to make the democracy inclusive and equitable. I think that's something that the risk capital that we can put out for the experiment before it's tested, the experiment, as it is beginning to be tested and the emphasis on including the entire community, I think, are two areas where we are uniquely suited to make a very, very significant difference and contribution. And I'm delighted that you're here for the 13th time, some of you, in sharing in that same belief. Now let me ask you to shift back quickly to 2009, February 2009. The global economy is in crisis. The advertising-based business model that has sustained American newspapers for a century is collapsing in 2009. An article entitled End Times appears in The Atlantic and asks the reader to imagine to consider the following question. What if The New York Times goes out of business like next May was the question? And what a difference a decade makes. Last month, The Times announced a record number of subscribers. More than 5 million now open their wallets to pay for New York Times journalism. Digital revenue topped 800 million. The company stock hit a 15-year high, and they have 1,700 journalists working for The New York Times, the bigger than ever. A. G. Seulsberger has been publisher of The Times since early 2008, 18. He's the fifth member of his family to hold the position since Adolf Augs. The son of immigrants bought the paper in 1896. He succeeded his father, Arthur Seulsberger, who took a great regional paper. And I say that from having been a subscriber for all of those years. Actually, since the time of your grandfather, I've been a subscriber. So maybe I get a rebate. It's kind of expensive. But they simply, Arthur made it the country's most important national newspaper and left it poised to become the world's most important digital news operation. A. G. Seulsberger was key to that transformation before he took the reign as publisher. He led the team that produced the famous innovation report, which you should all look at online if you haven't. That was 2014, and it's the roadmap for how The Times could thrive in a digital world. Many of us at The Times thought the report was smart. Some of us worried that The Times might not be able to adopt it, might not be able to change fast enough to make a difference. This morning, we'll get a chance to hear how the lead author grades himself, maybe how he grades The Times, but grades himself with the benefit of a little bit of hindsight. In his writings and public speaking, A. G. has emerged as a champion of free expression and a protector of journalists around the world. He has become a powerful voice in support of independent verification journalism day in and day out, nationally and locally. And I am delighted to have him as our closing speaker. Please welcome the publisher of The New York Times, A. G. Seulsberger. Thanks for being here. Well, thank you, Alberto, for that warm introduction. And for your leadership of an organization that has done so much to support informed and engaged communities across this country. In this time of sustained pressure on the news industry, we are lucky to have the Knight Foundation searching for solutions. So those pressures are familiar to everyone in this room. Collapsing business models, eroding trust, surging polarization, metastasizing disinformation, growing attacks on journalists and news organizations. Each represents an existential threat, not just to individual news organizations, but to the collective strength of the free press and to the health of our democracy. Like all of you, we at The New York Times have spent years trying to chart a path forward through this difficult, fast-changing terrain. And while the road ahead remains treacherous, our recent progress has provided some welcome optimism that there is indeed a future for the type of deeply reported mission-driven journalism that many of us feared might be lost. But even as The Times and a growing number of national news organizations appear to have stabilized, thousands of local news organizations, the beating heart of our journalistic ecosystem continue to struggle. Now you've all felt the impact of those struggles. You've felt it inside newsrooms as friends and colleagues have lost jobs they loved. You've felt it in your hands in ever-thinning local papers and you've felt it in your communities, which are growing steadily more disconnected and divided. And because many of you are leading the response to this local news crisis, I'd like to use my time today to share some lessons drawn from helping lead our digital transformation at the New York Times. In particular, I wanna focus on two words today. One that I think our industry, myself very much included, has at times focused on too much and a second that I believe holds the key door to journalism's future. As The Times has grown over the last few years, I'm often asked by other media executives for the secret to a successful subscription strategy. And they usually expect me to respond with some sort of insight on metering models or e-commerce systems or optimal marketing spend. And those things matter and we have worked really hard to get better at all of them. But the thing that really drives a healthy subscription business is deceptively simple. It is offering something worth paying for. At The Times, our entire business strategy can be summed up by that phrase, journalism worth paying for. Original expert on the ground journalism that's independent, fair and accurate. And that strategy, I believe, can serve news organizations across the journalistic ecosystem. Whether your revenue comes from readers paying through subscriptions, listeners paying through donations, platforms paying through licensing, or foundations paying through charitable support. In every case, you need to produce journalism worth paying for. And I'm sure that sounds obvious, but I worry that some in our industry are losing sight of the essential role of original, deeply reported journalism, not just as the highest purpose of the Fourth Estate, but as the path to sustainability for our industry. I worry that too many news organizations, both legacy newsrooms, trying to find their digital footing and digital and native outlets adapting to the platform's shifting sands are chasing innovation as an end, not a means. The Times has had times fallen into this trap ourselves as became abundantly clear to me every time we raced to meet our monthly quota of Facebook Live videos. Innovation is the word I believe our industry is focusing on too much. The reason so many journalists shook their heads at all the pivots of the last decade. The pivot to newsletters, the pivot to video, the pivot to podcasts is that these one word strategies so plainly put the tool before the use and the form before the substance. The world already has enough slideshows and podcasts and videos and articles to last us through the apocalypse. Meanwhile, emerging technologies like AR, VR, blockchain, virtual assistants are still more popular with advertisers and funders than with actual news consumers. The world doesn't need more content. We need more journalism. And that requires us to step back and ask a different set of questions. Why should readers, listeners, viewers and users make room for us in their lives? In an ever expanding sea of content, what is the thing news organizations can offer that earns trust, loyalty, and a spot in people's daily routines? Or even more broadly, why is journalism worth fighting for? Why did our nation's founders view it as so essential that they enshrined its protections in the First Amendment? Why are so many journalists a collection of people not otherwise prone to hyperbole, warning that the pressures on the news industry present a real and growing threat to a free and informed society? Those are the questions to ask. And I believe the answer to all of them come back to a word that the industry is not saying enough, reporting. And some of you may be thinking, why is a guy best known in journalism circles for writing a hundred page digital manifesto called the Innovation Report? Warning about innovation. And hear me out. Back in 2014, the future of the New York Times, as Alberta mentioned, was being openly questioned. The company was in debt, advertising revenue had plummeted, our audience was stagnating, talented journalists were taking buyouts or fleeing for more nimble digital rivals. Against this depressing backdrop, I was asked to lead a team that studied how our 168-year-old institution, both justifiably proud of its traditions and undeniably burdened by them, should adapt to the digital future. I was extremely bad casting for this role. Despite my relative youth, I have the background of an old school journalist. I got my start at a local newspaper reporter at Metro Dailies, first the Providence Journal, then the Oregonian. I've all but refused to engage with social media. I never joined Facebook. And the last time I tweeted, which was under duress and only under direct orders from Jennifer Preston right there, was a decade ago. And there is very little in life that brings me more joy than unfolding a print newspaper. And having no particular digital expertise to offer, I attacked the problems the only way I knew how, I reported. My team and I spent time with readers. We interviewed fellow journalists inside and outside the building, including some of the folks in this room. We mined for fresh ideas from designers, technologists, and product managers. We dug deep into our operations, studied digital startups, devoured reports and presentations and articles. And perhaps most importantly, in my view, my team and I took advantage of an increasingly endangered journalistic privilege, which is time to step back and think. What emerged from our reporting was a memo to newsroom leadership sounding the alarm that the Times was being left behind by a changing world and laying out a vision for how to reinvent the company for the century ahead. Though we called the memo the innovation report, we didn't expect the name to matter much because it was only meant to be read by a dozen people all inside the building. But then it was leaked and published in full on Buzzfeed and the name stuck. And I'll confess that I was not thrilled to see a hundred pages of our hopes and fears and dirty laundry being dissected by journalists around the globe. But in short order, something very good came from the leak. Dozens of other news organizations from dozens of other countries started creating their own teams to produce the innovation reports of their own. But that word, innovation, continued to nag at me. And it's because innovation is necessary, but it is not sufficient. And at its worst, it can be a dangerous distraction. Innovation only works when it's in service of something more enduring. And to be clear, I maintain a convert zeal that journalism must continue to unshackle itself from the forms and traditions built for a different era. But I have another deeper conviction and I believe that embracing change starts with knowing what will not change. And you can call that mission, you can call that value, you can call that purpose or anything else you'd like. And for us at the times, what wouldn't change was absolutely clear. For years, we had bet the farm on original reporting. We offloaded nearly every part of the company from our steak in the Red Sox, which was always weird for the New York Times. But it's probably the most profitable thing we had in the, anyway. To about.com. And we offloaded these things to preserve the size and ambitions of our newsroom. We sold off our headquarters to pay off debt even as we poured millions into bureaus in Iraq and Afghanistan at a time when other news organizations believed the cost wasn't worth it. Some people in the industry thought we were crazy, even financially reckless, but it eventually became clear that the investment in original on the ground reporting would save the times. But we also embraced innovation in service of that core mission. We changed how we work, becoming more collaborative and multidisciplinary. We changed how we communicate with our audience, becoming more transparent and responsive. We changed how we tell stories, creating a new form of multimedia investigations that, and I'm just gonna use a recent example here, blend eyewitness video with plain spotter logs, radio recordings and satellite maps to show how the Russian Air Force was secretly bombing hospitals in Syria. We even changed how we report stories. We now employ more journalists who can code than any other news organization. And that is not because coding is cool. It is because it allows us to do things like analyze massive troves of leaked location data to show how companies you've never heard of are following your every move. But all of these changes are in service of our enduring journalistic mission. And I believe the decision to align everything we do around original reporting and the imperative to make journalism worth paying for provides a near universal path forward for news in the 21st century. After a decade in which our own future looked perilous and the end times headline continues to haunt my dreams, I have been hardened to see not just the New York Times but the Washington Post, the Wall Street Journal, CNN, NPR, the New Yorker and the Atlantic all growing again. But these national news organizations will never be big enough to come close to filling the yawning void being left by the collapse of local news, which is the largest and most essential part of our journalistic ecosystem. Our country needs ambitious, creative, fearless local journalists reporting in every small town, in every city agency, and in every state house. If we don't find a path forward for local news at something close to that historic scale, I believe that we'll continue to watch society grow more polarized, less empathetic, more easily manipulated by powerful interests and more untethered from the truth. At the times, we are actively looking for ways to support original reporting at the local level. We've been partnering with local news organizations to tackle issues that matter to their communities, like our partnership with the Times-Picayune to explore the impact of rising sea levels and our partnership with the El Paso Times investigating the detention of migrants. We're also trying to contribute in other ways from creating open source digital journalism tools to establishing early career training programs to help develop the next generation of reporters. We want to do more, and I'm very eager to hear your ideas. But our modest contributions pale in comparison to the daunting challenge facing local news, which is why I'm so encouraged when I see the examples of the model I've described today, journalism worth paying for built around original reporting, succeeding at the local level, often with the support of the Knight Foundation. The Texas Tribune built an entirely new nonprofit model to support accountability reporting. ProPublica has created an astoundingly impressive engine of investigative reporting. Report for America and the American Journalism Project are using ambitious new approaches to scale original reporting across the country. Established newsrooms like the Miami Herald are proving their mettle even in the face of financial pressure. As we reminded last year with the award-winning reporting that led to Jeffrey Epstein finally being held accountable for his crimes. And I can't tell you how happy I was to hear today that that type of reporting is being supported by the Esserman family's new two and a half million fund for investigative journalism that was announced here on Monday. One bright spot that particularly warms my heart is the good work being done by my former colleague Les Zeitz. Les was the finest investigative reporter at the Oregonian, a two-time Pulitzer finalist, and a generous mentor to younger journalists myself very much included. As the Oregonian was decimated by cuts, Les retired and took up a seemingly quixotic cause, reviving the tiny weekly newspaper in Malier County in southeast corner of Oregon. Les was animated by the unshakable belief that people want high-quality original reporting about their community. And in just a few years, he and his colleagues used that formula to transform a struggling paper into a profitable weekly that's winning awards and setting a high standard for deeply reported journalism. Circulation is way up, revenue has tripled, his formula is working. And to be very clear, I understand that success stories like this remain the exception at the local level, but it's a promising sign. Technologies come and go, but I believe that people will always want and democracies will always need great reporting. And I wanna end my comments today with a note of thanks and a personal request, especially to those of you with philanthropic budgets. First, I wanna thank all of you. Your presence in the room suggests a commitment to finding solutions to the big problems facing journalism. And that's true for those of you leading traditional news organizations searching for a sustainable path forward. For those of you leading digital newsrooms, filling the growing news and information voids in our communities. Those of you leading the efforts to support this journalistic ecosystem with money and tools and ideas. And those of you who simply subscribe to your local paper or speak up when you hear neighbor dismiss journalism as fake news or journalists as the enemy of the people. Thank you all. And, oh, well, and which brings me to my request. You thought you were getting off easy. The challenges we face are really significant. And even after the toughest two decades that our industry has ever had, the toughest two decades I can imagine, I think it's pretty clear they're still mounting. And all of us need to keep pushing for solutions here. And as we do, here's my request, support original reporting. Innovate, but innovate in service of what matters. Help make the hard, expensive, essential work of gathering information and sharing it with the world possible. Because I truly believe in informed citizenry and a functioning democracy rely on it. Because the health of our news ecosystem depends on it. And because that's our mission, our core value and our highest purpose. Thanks. You should never say thank you in the middle of a speech. I guess so, I just learned something. Alberta just gave me the helpful advice. Never say thank you in the middle of a speech. Right. Everyone's secretly hoping it's ending, right? That's right. Say, finally, this guy's getting off. Thank you. That was terrific. Thank you very, very much. And that was not the middle of my speech. So I had forgotten, actually, that that report was not intended for publication. I have not forgotten that. I guess, evidently not. Evidently not. But I wonder, considering how, and I mentioned that some of us were skeptical, that an organization with the tradition, the weight of tradition of the times, could possibly change enough to respond to a report like that. I wonder if it hadn't been leaked whether you would have been successful in implementing it. I don't think we would have. I mean, there's this really funny moment that literally no one noticed inside or outside the building, which is I took that 100-page report, took out all the scary stuff, took out all the dirty laundry we didn't want out there, and made it acceptable for a broader audience. So I turned it down to 10 pages, sent it out as an email to staff. Here are our findings. And no one noticed. And I think the lesson for me, and it's funny, it's such an obvious journalistic lesson. But journalists, I feel like, often don't apply the same things we learned about the outside world to our own companies, was showed on tell. And I feel like we had really smart, talented, tireless people who had been telling for years, like file faster. You can't wait till the end of the day for the print deadline. Social media matters, all these things. The way that we can tell stories is changing. But we hadn't really given the rest of the company the shared understanding of the degree to which the institution was in real crisis. And I think it was only when you saw all the scary information that you could get to this much more productive place, which is the status quo is done. The status quo will not work anymore. And now we're in a much more productive conversation about, so what do we do about it? So in other organizations, including some of the ones represented in the room, how would you think about creating that moment of crisis that allows people to think something new, to think the unthinkable, because it's not as if the New York Times and lots of other publications had not been reporting on this for 15 years. That's how we knew about it. That's how we knew we had a crisis. But applying it internally is really, really hard. And you've got people who have become successful and rewarded doing things the old way, reporting the old ways are dead. Yeah. So how do you just build that change moment? You were lucky to have it leaked. Yeah, I was certainly lucky to have it leaked. I mean, one thing I learned, and I try to continue to do it. This is not my advice for anybody. On the night staff. But if you do have any leaks, you know what to say. Sam, forget that report. I think there's two things. One, I really believe in making sure that your colleagues own the problem with you. And I think that leaders often think that their job is to protect their teams from the problem. And to sort of say, don't worry, just to inspire confidence. I'm seeing some nodding heads, actually, to inspire confidence and show that you have it. And I actually think when everyone can say, oh, this is the scale and the direction of the challenge collectively, it makes it way easier to rally people around it. The second thing is actually part of the theme that I was trying to hit there is I really came to believe that if you want to change an organization, you need to first and really forcefully articulate what you are not going to change. And once you do that, what you've actually done is you've basically created guardrails around your mission. And once people know that the mission is safe, change becomes a less terrifying thing. And so for me, it was like my background as a journalist, the fact that the team that I had pulled together was respected in all corners of the newsroom. I remember I had one long time investigator reporter who was like, some of those ideas seemed really crazy to me. And then I remembered who is pitching them. And what I want you to do is explain to me why they're not crazy. Right. Yeah. So one of the questions that are already coming in is what's been the most elusive of the report's recommendations? What are you still struggling to? I'm making an assumption. But what are you still most struggling to achieve? The report really was not a particularly forward-looking document. I mean, half this room was ahead of us on this. The Times was playing catch-up. And so the recommendations were fairly elementary. They were stuff like stop averting our eyes from data. It was stop treating the folks who design and build our websites and experiences as if they worked at an entirely different company or in an enemy state. So I actually think we've done a good job, we did a good job fairly quickly at checking that up. I think there was one thing that was not in the report that was really important. And there was one thing in the report that was fairly naive. The thing on the naive side was if you go back and read our sections about how to engage with the platforms, I think it betrayed a naivete that had become the conventional wisdom of the moment, which is we're all in it together, let's be friends, and let's not be afraid to really put a lot of our institutional success on the backs of these other institutions. And what we learned in the ensuing years is that those institutions had very different incentives and goals. And it took us, I think, a few years to reset. I think the New York Times for a while is like, who cares about social media? That was extremely unproductive. Because you know who cares about Facebook? 2.2 billion monthly active users care about Facebook. Then we went to an equally naive position of let's all be friends. And I think now we're in a more productive place, which is like, they've got a really important role in our ecosystem of introducing journalism to new audiences. But if you want a relationship built around trust and loyalty, and ultimately a relationship that I think is required if you want people to pay for your journalism, you need to find a way to bring those people who you're meeting off-platform back to you. So this is not the direction that these questions were taking us in, but as long as we're talking about paying for the journalism, there's a need in democracy for an informed citizenry and for an engaged community. That doesn't necessarily mean that people can afford the price of New York Times or Miami Herald subscription, which is quite high. Even the price of an online subscription is higher than a lot of families can pay. What's the responsibility of a news organization just to inform community generally? And then I want to ask you about in relation to the platforms. So I'll say two things. I'm really going to push back hard on this one, because I really get the question from friends, from other people in the industry, and people outside it. And so the first thing I would say is the New York Times has designed itself to be really leaky, right? The daily is free. Our newsletters are free. If the only thing you do is give us your email, 10 stories a month are free. And so we believe that, and on key moments, I think actually last time a hurricane came through this area, we pulled down our paywall. Election day, we pulled down our paywall. So on key major stories, we're also making sure that we're accessible to everyone. So I don't really buy that there's a big gap right now in that the shift towards paid news is actually keeping people from getting any news. If you just look at the comm score subscribers, we have roughly the, it's a little bit less, but about the same number of people who come to us as the biggest free sites every month, so CNN and Fox. That is intentional, because we don't want that hard paywall when you get there, that you can't make sense of the day's news or actually dive into particular stories. But then I want to say something, a second thing, which is I also don't think our industry should apologize for asking people to pay for news. News is really expensive. Now we just have to convince everyone else. But news is really expensive. I talked about we've maintained a bureau in Iraq and Afghanistan for 20 years now. I mean, even if you were to take out the cost of the more than dozen reporters who've been there at any given time, just the insurance bills are crazy. And buying an armored car and the incredible lengths we go to to give Chris Chifers, I think 18 months, 24 months to report a single story in Iraq, that is expensive. And I think it's really important that you say that not every family can afford a subscription to the New York Times. I mean, it's a digital subscription to the New York Times or to the Post or to the Journal. The Journal might be a little higher, but to the Times or the Post, they both are about your cell phone bill plus your cable bill, right? Or there are two cups of coffee a week. And I think that we should be OK with that. And there's probably, there are good arguments for why there are different lanes on that information superhighway. But there are other models, the television, the over-the-air television news model is a model that for the price of listening to the ads in between, I get news for apparently free, except that I had to buy a TV. For the price of just signing up for Facebook, I get all kinds of stories, including stories you don't get paid for. And that was going to be my next set of questions when I sign up for Facebook. And newspapers, I'll say traditional news organizations, are still looking at, are still paying for the cost of the kind of journalism that you're talking about. But it is being more and more made available at no cost through other ways. I see. You're looking at the aggregation. So yeah, so where are you, where do you, where does the time stand with regard to the use of New York Times material on Facebook for what compensation? Yeah. Well, it's worth saying that Facebook has been widely reported, has taken some steps to paying some news organizations, and which I think is a step. And I think it's important. Since I'm not running a news organization, I would say yes, it's worth saying that they are paying a pittance. I would argue that we are seeing a step-change shift in the platforms beginning to understand, I'm using the word beginning very carefully, beginning to understand that the health of their environments is only as strong as the health of the organizations filling their environments with news and information. And I think they had badly underestimated that. And I think that the most obvious place you can look to there is how easy, particularly Facebook, but you can look at a bunch of the platforms, made it for anyone to claim that they were a news organization and to masquerade whether you were a politician running for office, a number of whom have learned that you can just create a news organization to peddle your propaganda to a Macedonian teenager just trying to take advantage of the reality that divisive content sells to the Russians trying to swing an election. And I think the platforms have realized that that's an untenable position. Now, what they do with that, whether they take enough steps and big enough steps, that remains to be seen. But it's clear to me that they're starting to wake up to reality. I mean, what you do with aggregation is a really tricky one because I do believe that every part of the news ecosystem is valuable, including aggregators as a group that brings information to maybe populations that would otherwise miss it and helps sort. The problem to me about the news ecosystem is how much it's skewed accidentally and thoughtlessly over the last 20 years. So it used to be that 90% of your news calories were coming from reporting and maybe 10% from commentary and aggregation. Today, I think it's probably 90 is coming from commentary and aggregation, 10% from reporting. Similarly, we're seeing that national news is growing bigger and local news is growing smaller. Both of those trends, I don't think, are particularly helpful. So let me ask you about that last one. As you think about what you're going to be able to, when you think about the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, the Washington Post, and you think about the worldwide, where the sort of the general nature of the technology seems to fit the idea of a national or international news organization, it doesn't necessarily fit the idea of a local news organization. It doesn't seem to be as natural a fit. Do you see a way, and this is one of the reasons why so many of the news organizations in this room and some that you mentioned have chosen to be locally supported through philanthropy, is that the only way that we're going to be able to have some kind of sustainable local news operation because the technology that you're able to leverage may not be possible for the local paper? I mean, if I was asked that question, the first thing I would do is I would give you a call and say, what do you think about this question, Alberto? You spend a lot more time thinking about it than I have. I don't know. What I know is that I, like a whole bunch of people who came up through local news and understand its value to communities, I had a religious conviction that local news would make it through, that it's too important not to. And that conviction is being really tested. And I think that religious conviction is not going to get us where we need to go. I think it needs to be ideas and energy and passion and money. And I think as we talk about local news, I really want to make sure that we're always talking about local reporting because that's the thing that I think, it's local commentary, local aggregation. Those things are going to be easy to do within the economics of the internet. And I don't think it's technology as much as it's just digital economics. Well, technology just basically facilitates. We're kind of running out of time, but maybe to bring it back up a little bit, your father, I think, will be remembered for creating a great national newspaper and setting up for the future. What are you going to be remembered for? There's a lot of pressure. I'm only two years into the job. But somehow with your last name, you should be used to this. Yeah, well, all right. Look, I think I've thought a lot about my father's legacy. And I think he made a series of bets. And if he hadn't made every one of the bets in the right order, I'm not sure we are where we are today. I'm sure we are not where we are today. But I think the ultimate thing he accomplished is the exact same thing that I hope to accomplish, which is that he handed a news organization off to his successor stronger than when he received it. And I think that that's, I mean, and I've been talking with various people around the room. I think in this moment, I think that's what we're really all aspiring to. Terrific. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you all, and we'll see you on March 1st next year. Thank you.