Labor Is Now Part-Paying the Press

The next time you read a political story from Nine, Seven, Crikey, The Conversation, The Saturday Paper, Mamamia or any of the scores of other outlets taking part in Labor’s latest media scheme, there is something you may not be told.

The Federal Government is likely to be paying the journalist who wrote it.

This is not some roundabout subsidy buried in the tax system. It is not a government advertising campaign or a grant to repair an old printing press in a country town. The Commonwealth is contributing directly towards the wages of journalists employed by private media companies.

Through the Journalism Assistance Fund, the Albanese Government is handing out $67.6 million to publishers across the country. Successful applicants receive $39,000 for each eligible full-time journalist over three years, with payments continuing until 2028.

The government says it is supporting public-interest journalism.

That sounds noble enough. Australia has lost plenty of newspapers, local reporters, and experienced journalists over the past two decades. Anyone who has watched a local paper shrink to a few pages of council press releases and real estate ads knows the industry is in trouble.

Still, there is something badly wrong with a government helping to pay the wages of the very people meant to scrutinise it.

More than 2,000 journalists are reportedly covered by the program across 184 private newsrooms. The money has not only gone to small rural papers battling to keep a reporter on staff. Some of the largest and most powerful media companies in the country are among the biggest beneficiaries.

Fairfax Media Limited, part of the Nine group, received more than $8.1 million.

Nine Entertainment received another grant of almost $8 million.

Seven Network received about $5.6 million, while West Australian Newspapers received more than $4 million.

Other recipients include Crikey publisher Private Media, The Conversation, The Saturday Paper, The Daily Aus, Mamamia, Capital Brief, and Michael West Media.

Taken together, the Fairfax and Nine entities received more than $16 million. Seven-related businesses received millions more. These are companies with national television networks, major newspapers, large political bureaus, wealthy shareholders, and direct access to the most powerful people in Canberra.

They are also the organisations that regularly lecture everyone else about conflicts of interest.

Now, part of their journalism wage bill is being picked up by the taxpayer.

There is no requirement for funded newsrooms to tell their readers.

A reporter can write about Anthony Albanese, Communications Minister Anika Wells, the Labor Government, the public service, or the department administering the money without a single line disclosing that the publication receives government support for journalists’ wages.

That is extraordinary.

Imagine a lobby group publishing a favourable report about a company that helps pay its staff. Every serious newsroom in the country would demand a disclosure. If a researcher received money from an industry body, that fact would be mentioned prominently. Politicians are expected to declare gifts, donations, and financial interests.

Yet a newsroom taking millions from the government can publish political coverage without telling the audience a thing.

Andrew Bolt has called for every taxpayer-subsidised journalist to disclose the arrangement at the bottom of each article. He is right.

That does not mean every journalist taking part in the scheme has suddenly become a Labor propagandist. Most probably have not changed their reporting at all. Plenty will insist, with some justification, that no minister has ever rung them and told them what to write.

But influence does not usually work through a phone call from the minister’s office.

It works through dependency.

Editors know the company is receiving government money. Executives know the payments continue for years. Management knows future programs will be designed in Canberra. Everyone knows the industry is lobbying for more assistance as advertising revenue collapses.

No one needs to bark an order. The financial relationship is sitting there in the background. And it matters.

It matters when an editor is deciding how aggressively to pursue a government scandal. It matters when a proprietor is deciding whether to pick a fight with a minister. It matters when newsroom jobs are tied, even partly, to funding controlled by the same political system those journalists are meant to investigate.

The government also decides what counts as journalism under the scheme.

The rules say eligible “core news content” must report, investigate, or explain issues relevant to public debate, democratic decision-making, or events of public significance.

Sponsored content, lifestyle material, entertainment, celebrity news, and real estate do not qualify. Neither do opinion and editorial pieces.

That last exclusion is worth pausing over.

Opinion columns are often where governments receive the fiercest criticism. They are where editors and writers are free to call a minister incompetent, dishonest, cowardly, or worse. Yet under Labor’s scheme, this sort of writing is not considered journalism worthy of support.

A departmental program delegate decides who qualifies. The published guidelines say the delegate’s decision is final, with no review of the outcome.

So Canberra defines journalism, decides which publishers qualify, assesses their paperwork, approves their progress reports, and keeps the money flowing.

Even if every public servant involved behaves impeccably, it is a poor arrangement. A free press should not depend on satisfying a government department.

Indeed, the rules produced a very politically convenient result for the government.

News Corp’s Australian publications, and Sky News Australia were unable to apply because the scheme excluded foreign-controlled companies.

The practical effect remains obvious. Left-leaning media outlets such as Nine, Crikey, The Conversation, Mamamia, and The Saturday Paper could receive government money. Sky News, The Australian, The Herald Sun, The Daily Telegraph, and several newer conservative outlets could not.

That does not look much like media diversity.

The government says the program supports “core news content”, yet some of the successful recipients make the definition look rather elastic.

Man of Many, best known for watches, cars, style, and consumer content, received more than $368,000.

Sports Entertainment Network received almost $249,000.

A caravanning and camping magazine received $85,800.

A classical music publication received more than $111,000.

A trade publication for real estate agents also received $85,800, even though real estate content is specifically excluded under the guidelines.

Perhaps each of these publications employs people producing genuine news. They must have convinced the department they did.

Still, it is fair to wonder how carefully this was all checked, particularly when the entire fund was snapped up in less than a month.

Applications opened on 21 November 2025 and closed 28 days later because the money was gone.

There was no contest based on the quality of journalism, public need, financial hardship, or the value an outlet provided to its community. Applications were considered in the order they arrived until the fund ran dry. First in, best dressed.

One successful company reportedly registered its ABN two days before applications opened. Another went into creditors’ voluntary liquidation only weeks after its grant was published. A company approved for $39,000 later had its ABN cancelled.

None of that proves corruption or fraud. It does show how rushed and loose the process appears to have been.

The media industry does have a serious problem. Advertising money has moved online. Regional papers have closed or cut staff. Court reporters, council reporters, and experienced subeditors have disappeared. Something has been lost, particularly in regional Australia.

But direct wage subsidies are a dangerous way to deal with it.

Once media organisations become used to government support, they will organise their businesses around it. Jobs will depend on it. Lobbyists will push for extensions and bigger pools of money. Ministers will know the industry has something to lose.

Sooner or later, somebody in a newsroom will wonder what happens if the government turns off the tap.

That question should never sit in the mind of a journalist investigating the government.

There are other ways to help smaller publishers. Regulatory burdens could be reduced. Government advertising could be allocated under clear and transparent rules. Tax settings could encourage donations to genuine public-interest investigations. Small and independent publishers could be freed from some of the compliance costs that larger companies absorb with ease.

Most importantly, publishers need readers willing to pay for their work.

That is harder than collecting a grant, but it preserves the right relationship. A publication funded by readers has to earn their trust. A publication funded by the government has another master in the room, whether it admits it or not.

Every funded newsroom should disclose the arrangement.

A simple line at the bottom of each political story would do:

“This publication receives Commonwealth funding that contributes towards the wages of its journalists.”

Television and radio reports should carry an equivalent disclosure. Publishers should also state how much they received, how many positions are being subsidised and how long the agreement runs.

The media demands transparency from everybody else. It can hardly object when the same standard is applied to itself.

No one should claim that every subsidised story is dishonest. That would be unfair.

Readers should still be told who is helping pay the bill.

“Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.”
– Thomas Jefferson