BoSacks Speaks Out: When the Newsroom Is the Target

Today, I read an article titled "Despite the Attacks, Newsroom Operations Have Never Stopped" about the wartime operations of Ukraine's public broadcaster. I finished reading it both humbled and stunned.

The article reminded me that while many of us in publishing spend our days worrying about circulation, subscriptions, advertising, artificial intelligence, and audience engagement, there are journalists today worrying about whether they will survive long enough to file their next story.

That realization puts a great many of our industry concerns into perspective.

I grew up as a child of World War II. I remember the stories of correspondents who went into the field with little more than a helmet, a notebook, and a pencil, recording history for posterity. The American press corps followed soldiers across Europe and the Pacific and reported back to a public hungry for information. Those reporters faced enormous dangers, but they were generally recognized as journalists.

That was then. This is now.

There is another important difference. During World War II, American correspondents often worked in great danger near the front lines, but the publishers themselves remained largely safe an ocean away. Editors still sat in New York, Chicago, and Washington. Printing presses continued to run. Newsrooms functioned without fear of missile strikes.

In Ukraine, the danger extends beyond the reporters. The news organizations themselves are under attack. Offices have been damaged or destroyed. Broadcast facilities have been struck. Journalists, editors, producers, and support staff all work under the threat of drones and missiles.

This is not simply war reporting. It is journalism conducted while the institution of journalism itself is under fire.

Today, reporters in Ukraine work in an environment where the word "PRESS" on a bulletproof vest may no longer offer protection. According to Suspilne Ukraine, it can sometimes make a journalist a target. The tools of war have changed. Drones patrol the skies. Cyberattacks accompany military attacks. Newsrooms themselves become targets.

Yet the mission remains the same: bear witness and tell the story.

In an age when many people casually declare that journalism is dying, these men and women are risking their lives because they believe information matters. Not clicks. Not impressions. Not engagement metrics. Information.

What struck me most was not the danger itself. Journalism has always required courage. What struck me was the refusal to surrender the mission.

Buildings can be destroyed. Equipment can be replaced. Newsrooms can relocate. Yet the commitment to informing the public remains intact.

That reality should give every publisher pause.

For generations, reporters have operated under the assumption that their role as observers provided at least some degree of protection. Today, that assumption is increasingly fragile. Journalists in conflict zones face not only artillery and missiles, but also drones, cyberattacks, disinformation campaigns, and deliberate intimidation.

Yet they continue to show up.

There is a lesson here for our industry.

I have often argued that we were never really in the paper business, the ink business, or even the content business. We were always in the trust business. Trust was, and remains, the asset. Everything else is simply a delivery system.

What the journalists at Suspilne demonstrate is that trust sometimes carries a cost. A very real cost.

When reporters continue working after their offices have been bombed, when they broadcast from shelters, when they document events despite personal danger, they remind us that journalism is not merely a commercial enterprise. It is a public service.

The irony is that in many peaceful democracies, where journalists face nothing more dangerous than angry emails and social media criticism, trust in media has eroded. Meanwhile, in places where freedom itself is under attack, journalism is often valued most because citizens understand exactly what is lost when reliable information disappears.

Publishing professionals should pay attention.

Technology will continue to change. Business models will evolve. Artificial intelligence will reshape workflows. New platforms will emerge while old ones fade away.

But the essential mission remains unchanged.

The public still needs accurate information. It still needs witnesses. And it still needs trusted voices capable of separating fact from propaganda.

As publishers, we spend a great deal of time discussing technology, platforms, business models, and the future of media. Stories like this remind us that before journalism was a business, it was a mission.

In Ukraine, that mission continues under conditions most of us can scarcely imagine.

The journalists of Suspilne remind us that journalism is not important because it is profitable. Journalism is important because an informed public is the foundation of a free society.

When reporters continue broadcasting while drones circle overhead, it becomes difficult to complain about our own industry challenges without a little humility.

The next time someone asks whether journalism still matters, point them toward Ukraine.

There, amid the rubble and uncertainty, journalists continue to do what generations of reporters have always done: show up, bear witness, and tell the world what they saw.