In all these reports, I have noticed one striking theme in interviews with Iranian citizens: that their concern, what really drives their passion, is this “landslide” victory – not its end result which keeps Ahmadinejad in power. As I read articles, watch news reports, hear radio commentaries, these citizens comment that if the election results had been closer, more “believable,” then the Iranian people would likely have accepted the outcome, and would not have risen up in anger.

Which brings me to the question that’s been on my mind: Why would the Iranian government  skew an election to yield such unbelievable results? If the objective was to remain in power, and they were intent on a particular election outcome, then couldn’t they have achieved the same result with a closer, let’s say 52% to 48%, victory? One where challenger Mir Hussein Moussavi could have received majority votes in more than two of Iran’s 31 provinces? In short, a result that appeared more plausible?

It seems to me that this is an issue of vanity. Someone – Ahmadinejad, supreme leader Khamenei, or others in power – wanted to be part of the winning team. Not the team that just barely won, but the team that won handily. This desire may have blinded them to the fact that a landslide victory would appear implausible to the people of their nation.  And would spark protests and reactions from the rest of the world.

In stark contrast to the government’s focus, the people of Iran have reacted by showing the strength of their community. In the midst of the Iranian government’s crackdown on journalism and social media – attempting to focus attention on back its own agenda – citizens have continued to hold silent protests, to share their stories, to document their experiences.

To me, this feels like a monumental example of how society is changing: The focus and power of “one” is giving way to the voices of many. Vain attempts to focus attention on one person, one entity, one “solution” is simply not realistic. Vast numbers of people, with their ability to organize and to distribute their message, are demanding that their voices be heard.

Of course, I don’t deny that there is a societal force to create icons from individuals – President Obama being the most obvious example – but I see changes in this iconic mentality as well. In the midst of an increasingly collaborative and participatory society, the icons themselves are asking for the community to get involved. Maybe it’s self-preservation, because the strength of any one personality will never withstand the scrutiny of the world. Maybe it’s the latest fad in sociological study, as all sorts of books and academic dialogue would suggest.

Or maybe it’s because the voices of the crowd, even without forethought and organization, are simply more powerful than the vain who wish to concentrate power unto themselves.

In between booths of artists selling their wares were a few non-art vendors, including the New York Times. While my mom and I passed by, the man working this booth suggested that we sign up for a NYT subscription. I thanked him, let him know that I receive all my news digitally, and complimented his employer on their mobile subscription and iPhone app.

The gentleman informed me that these digital subscription offerings do not include the full content from the New York TImes. To this, I replied that they should; it would be great to have access to all the great Times content digitally!

Then came the line that floored me:

“You should support print media.”

Really?

That’s it? I just “should”?

In that moment, I started to understand a major factor in the crisis that the newspaper industry is facing: they just think paper is better. Why? Because it is.

The argument for print media seems to say, “hey everybody, just start buying printed newspapers again, and then we can all go back to normal.”

I do understand that the newspaper business model has been turned upside down. That newspapers are going bankrupt. That advertising revenues fell nearly 30% in the first quarter of 2009.

This is an extraordinary time, and the whole newspaper industry is changing. To say the least, it’s not easy.

But the situation garners less pity from me when I hear people defend and encourage the industry’s current state. This position implies that there is an inherent value in the print distribution of the content. Which is odd, because the paper itself is simply a distribution channel. And channels come and go with time.

Prior to newspapers, town criers just yelled out the news. Later, papers were hawked by newsies on street corners. More recently, newspaper carriers delivered papers to customers’ homes. Today, news is available in a myriad of formats, both written and broadcast. Now, distribution models for news are changing again. More fundamentally this time.

The New York Times – like every paper – needs to understand that its value is in its content. Not its medium. People like me still want news. We want in-depth reporting. We want insightful journalism. The market is there.

For my part, I will register. I’ll provide my demographic profile. I’ll read ads. I’ll subscribe.

And so, I’m confident that a new business model will emerge – whether it is fee-based, ad-supported, social or non-profit – that makes this service viable. Along the way, some news services will fail. Others will succeed.

The newspapers that focus on their content, and experiment with different business models, will survive. And thrive. Albeit, reinvented. The ones who ask digital subscribers to switch back to paper will fail.

When our lives are mobile, paperless, streaming, we need to have our journalism provided in a medium that fits our lifestyle.

In a word: digital.