As I’ll happily share with anyone who comes remotely close to asking, I joined Excalibur expecting to stay well within my comfort zone of illustration and graphic design. As someone who never found immense joy in transcribing my thoughts, I was certain that I had no interest nor place penning any articles.
It turns out that giving my opinion on a sentence’s phrasing is Editing: The Gateway Drug to Writing, and that interviewing people is a lot more fun to me than the literary analysis you do in secondary school English. So somehow, despite my initial reservations, I have stumbled my way into occupying the role of Editor-in-Chief. I fear this may sound like a LinkedIn post – what I’m attempting to explain is that I’ve really only considered the newspaper’s place in our world for about a year.
I’ve, of course, read newspapers (albeit sometimes as a byproduct of hunting for a good crossword) since I was a child. My family never held any subscriptions, so the periodicals that entered our home – more often magazines than broadsheets – were novel by existence alone. When I reached a level of maturity where actual articles began to interest me, I recall being fascinated by the Letter from the Editor. Being addressed directly with an explanation of what I was about to read and why made me appreciate the real teams behind Highlights and Walmart Live Better. I only partially jest.
For a university paper, I’ve come to realize, the editorial direction is prone to rapid changes. Considering that in four years you can be promoted from an eager reader to the most senior editor, the turnover and career progression of the professional newsroom is comparatively glacial. In that short timespan, you’re unlikely to have more than a handful of editors-in-chief to look up to, with a collective memory of under a decade. Such is the nature of nearly all of York’s student organizations, dichotomous with the often lengthy tenures of faculty and staff.
The newspaper, specifically the local newspaper, is a tool to promote civic engagement. It provides information so that readers can become active members of their communities and local politics. While York is no stranger to political strife – our infamy for constant labour strikes comes to the forefront of my mind – there is equally frequent discourse about our lack of student community. I won’t deny that the university’s position as a commuter school limits student life to a certain degree, but I also think there’s a self-fulfilling aspect to the characterization. If we all gripe that there’s nothing happening on campus (determinably untrue), how will anybody know what to seek out?
It’s easy to come into York as first-years and accept our circumstances as the natural state of things. Chatting with long-time staff, and looking at Excalibur’s old issues, I’ve realized that this is not the case. We used to have bars in every college, underground tunnels connecting more than five buildings, and different stores in York Lanes. If these things can change so completely, leaving little trace of their existence, why can’t we shed our commuter school reputation as well? As an editor, I’ve encountered stories about York’s students, faculty, and staff that are doing incredibly interesting things, and run into them outside of their articles too. Each time, I get to tell them, “I’ve read about you!” which I’ve discovered is one of the best ice breakers.
These days, much of our information is easily accessible, and extremely individualized. Newspapers have tried to compete with the level of convenience that the internet and social media provide, and most of them have failed. But the aforementioned point of newspapers isn’t to provide convenience to the reader; it’s to embed them within the wider community. With online echo chambers and LLM-produced disinformation, it’s also becoming more and more clear that convenience is unhealthy on all fronts. We as readers need to shift our perspective and choose the more challenging option: to engage with our information beyond passive consumption.
I’ve been racking my brain over the summer to find ways to improve our readership. Beyond my ego being bruised whenever I told someone I work for Excalibur and they confessed not knowing York had a student paper, I had an inexplicable conviction that our relevance is important. I now think that why that is and how to make it more appealing are one and the same: York needs a space where you can see yourself and others.
This year I want Excalibur to be something that you contribute to as well, dear reader. If you’re doing something interesting at York that nobody knows about, tell us to come see it. Visit our office and say hello to us editors. Give us your opinions or suggest topics for us to investigate. Submit your stupidest comics or favourite photos. Working for this paper, my love for the Letter from the Editor has never waned, but I’ve found an even greater appreciation for the Letter to the Editor. Whether you agree or disagree with an article we write – and especially if it’s the latter – send us a response! My favourite part about journalism has been listening to people. The profundity and sincerity of others astonished me, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. It’s only natural that all of us possess passions and insights; I’d like for these pages to be a place where you’re free to share them.
Yours whenever you’re ready,
