Free The Final Word by Liza Marklund Page B

.’
    ‘Once you’ve taken a decision, it’s best to implement it quickly and decisively. That’s the most humane option,’ Wennergren said.
    Schyman stared at the chairman of the board. He wasn’t going to be the first to look away. ‘It might be a little tricky to convey the board’s motives,’ he said. ‘Explaining and justifying this dramatic . . . change, after the newspaper has made a profit of around a billion kronor over the past twelve years.’
    Wennergren nodded. ‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘It’s important that we don’t stifle debate, that people feel free tocontribute to the discussion. We’ll simply have to explain that we regard news and social journalism as a fundamental part of our vision of publishing. What’s new about this is that we’ll be where the public wants to find us, and that, of course, will cost a lot in terms of investment. The staff have to understand that.’
    Schyman tried to swallow, but his mouth was bone dry. Mustn’t stifle debate. Let people contribute to the discussion. ‘So, in order to secure the publication of serious, considered social journalism, we have to take difficult decisions about our priorities,’ he said, hoping he didn’t sound too ironic.
    The chairman of the board nodded excitedly. ‘Exactly! We’re taking this extremely difficult decision because we want to be in control of our own future. We’re seizing the initiative while we still have a chance to do so!’
    Schyman made a real effort to sound reasonable. ‘Our competitors aren’t exactly resting on their laurels, as we know.’
    Wennergren leaned forward. ‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘I was over in California last month, and met the bosses at Google. They’re not worried about competition but about the consumers. Our behaviour patterns are changing so fast that even they can’t keep up. The world’s biggest search engine! They’re worried about disappearing!’
    He stood up and looked out across the newsroom again, the very embodiment of a desire for change. ‘It’s hard to comprehend how much the media industry isgoing to change in the next few years, but one thing is certain: the
Evening Post
will be part of it. We’re going to be in the vanguard.’
    Schyman couldn’t reply. Twenty years ago there were seven thousand journalists working on daily papers in Sweden. Now there were just two thousand left. In the last year alone almost forty local papers had closed, and more than four hundred journalists had lost their jobs. The shadow hanging over the media was spreading across the country at the same pace and in the same way as neo-Fascist movements. The only roles that were gaining strength within the media were information management and PR consultancy, which existed to steer and influence.
    Wennergren gestured towards the newsroom. ‘Isn’t that the woman who looked after Valter when he did his work-placement here last summer?’
    Schyman got up and went to stand next to him, his knees aching. ‘They got on pretty well,’ he said.
    ‘She made a big impression on Valter. He talks about her a lot.’
    Bengtzon must have felt their eyes on her, because she turned towards them. Schyman instinctively took a step back and moved away. ‘How’s Valter getting on?’ he asked, as he sat down again.
    ‘Fine, thanks,’ Wennergren said. ‘He finished his journalism degree a few weeks ago.’
    ‘It’s a shame there are no jobs for journalists in Sweden,’ Schyman said.
    The chairman of the board smiled confidently. ‘Valter’s going to carry on with his academic career, researching media relations and press ethics.’
    Schyman nodded. ‘A talented lad.’
    Albert Wennergren let out a contented sigh. ‘I was a little sceptical when he said he wanted to do his work-placement here at the
Evening Post
, but this was actually where he worked out what he wanted to do. He had a lot of discussions about press ethics and the foundations of the tabloid press with his supervisor. What