The Last True Journalist

There are people whom I admire–Michael Moore, Rachel Maddow, Paul Ehrlich and Ralph Nader are the living ones.  But I can’t really say I have heroes.  Heroes per se tend to disappoint, to have feet of clay; to be all too human.   Thus, despite the many good works performed by the aforementioned and a paltry few others, at the end of the day I would not want to emulate them.   In other words, “Role model” is a term I rarely find useful.

But occasionally, our species of gibbering, club-wielding ape produces an individual about whom even a raging cynic and misanthrope such as myself can feel safe in saying:  “If most of us were like this person, this world would not be the hell-hole of hypocrisy that it is”.    So it was that when I heard of Walter Cronkite’s death this morning, it was as if the last candle in a dark, dark room had gone out.

When I was a kid, I wanted to be Walter Cronkite.  Naive I might have been, but nevertheless I thought that if people could only get the unvarnished facts, they would ignore the lies of the narcissistic sociopaths in business, in government, in religion and yes, even in journalism, and thus rise up and eliminate the injustices that humans commit against their fellows by the billions, day in and day out.  To me, there could be no higher calling, nor more needful one; honest reporting–getting the facts of current events to the voting public, pure and unvarnished–was, and indeed still is, the foundation upon which a successful democracy is built.  And no one in my memory fit the bill better than Walter Cronkite.

I know what some are thinking right now:  there’s no such thing as completely unbiased reporting.  And if one uses the principle of reductio ad abusurdum, then they’re right–there will always be a flavor of personal prejudice in any news story.  But applying more reasonable standards, I feel it is still possible enough that people of good will can look at an incident or a principle, make note of all the more salient aspects, and then describe them with a high degree of accuracy, in spite of their own opinions.

Walter Cronkite did just that, and people respected him for it, and trusted him even when they didn’t like what he was saying.  What better evidence, than when LBJ finally said:  “”If I’ve lost Cronkite, I’ve lost middle America.”  Nowadays, however, media figures have become 7-8-figure entertainment personalities bought and paid for by the rich and powerful.  And the US has suffered for it.  Would George Bush have ever gotten into office if it hadn’t been for the well-dressed and -coiffed venal mouthpieces disguised as credible, objective reporters whom acted as if his “victories” were credible?  Would self-serving arguments against overpopulation, global warming, and universal health care be treated with anything more than the contempt they deserve?  Would the tag-along cheerleaders such as Rush Limbaugh and Bill O’Reilly be seen as anything more than the lying, manipulative demagogues that they really are?

When I’ve seen what journalism has become, I despair; when I remember Walter Cronkite, I mourne.  And in the end, I’m glad I instead found more honest work sweeping floors and driving trucks.

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