The year just ended was a wild one from an environmental perspective, with natural disasters around the world of literally biblical proportions – tidal waves, earthquakes, hurricanes and more. Some of those disasters resulted in Herculean efforts at real journalism; a journalism that used massive resources to examine issues with depth and context.

It was so unlike the daily coverage we'd come to expect, where flash long ago replaced depth and a false sense of urgency overcame context. The revitalized coverage literally stood out.

Journalists quickly patted themselves on the back for a job well done. Articles were written praising the efforts and talking of a new day for insightful, contextual journalism. Then it was time to move on to the next new thing, and that concentrated coverage all too quickly faded, along with hopes that much long-term journalistic change would come from that concern. Even Hurricane Katrina, perhaps the largest natural disaster to ever reach our shores, rather quickly became a tough sell to many editors.

When this happens, we all lose.

As these disasters, especially Hurricane Katrina, have faded from the news, and consequently from the public's attention, they have also become a missed opportunity to discuss a range of environmental issues, not least among them climate change and what it portends for the planet. The best time to inform and educate the public about scientific information is when they are engaged by coverage of the event, not after that coverage disappears and interest has waned.

Extended coverage of past outrages has led to adoption of some of the country's most significant environmental legislation. Reporting on Mississippi River drinking water problems in Louisiana fueled passage of the Safe Drinking Water Act. Journalism on Ohio's Cuyahoga River afire prompted passage of the Clean Water Act. Coverage of Love Canal and its aftermath led in part to Superfund. And outrage spurred by the coverage of Bhopal brought about the Community Right-to-Know Act.

These results occurred at least in large part because the media sustained public attention on these tragedies. That just isn't happening anymore.

While the aftermath of Katrina may eventually lead to change of some kind of enduring public policy response, it will likely happen because of the overwhelming nature of the destruction, rather than because of any widespread and sustained media spotlight.

It's clear things have changed, and among them are the ways that journalism is conducted. It's no surprise that journalism is now increasingly a dollars-and-cents business, where the bottom line rather than journalistic need determines the closing of bureaus and the cutting of staffs.

But before we once again blame our problems on the most convenient target – the people wearing green eyeshades – we need to examine our own culpability as reporters and editors.

Earlier disasters led to major legislation in large part because journalists sustained a focus on those stories much longer. This drumbeat of information helped inform the public, who in turn put pressure on policy makers and politicians, eventually leading to systemic change.

What has changed then, more than just the reductions in staffing brought on by budget cuts, is our commitment to public service as journalists, our commitment to long-term coverage of significant issues of great interest to the body politic. It is that level of coverage that is often needed to bring about any real structural change.

It's an important lesson from the past year to reflect upon as we enter the new. And it's still not too late to learn that lesson of 2005. And none too early to begin applying it in 2006.