Memo to the Internet: we are living in the Dark Ages.
A puritanical, oppressive, and uninformed society with an illusion of an abundance of information.
Ideological intolerance coupled with an absolute inability to understand that different lives have different requirements.
Where people with no knowledge spew opinions as if they were divine decrees?
How did sensibility all go up in flames?
Because a profession died.
It was sickly for many years, but the patient didn’t see how sick it was.
It insisted its symptoms were a sign of glorious health.
Until it could not see ahead.
It could not predict.
And it showed it was numb and could no longer sense its environment.
No sense, and could no longer move forward.
How did it get so far?
It matters because it was the profession that gave power to its citizens.
Opinion and anger are worthless.
Without knowledge, there is no vision.
The flickering screen in front of you is not a god.
It is not your friend, or mentor.
How did journalism die?
I remember the day I saw that journalism was sickly.
I was in my late teens, and I saw it.
I saw it, and I knew.
I don’t know why I could see it, but the patient couldn’t.
Perhaps it was just another symptom of the illness.
But somehow, I saw it didn’t have to be a foregone conclusion, and I decided to become an expert on its illness.
I worked on studying it, and I even discovered the cure.
It was a simple antidote, but the patient refused it.
But the patient was going downhill faster and faster.
Until one day, it just stopped.
In a way, its death was terrifying, but in another, it was a relief.
It was obsessed with trivialities, telling others how to just be passive, and that intellectual passivity was wonderful.
The horrible questions it asked authorities it agreed, always instructing the little people that what their authorities were doing was right and just.
Just stand there and do nothing like a piece of dandruff, and everything will work itself out in the end.
Except the patient didn’t fare so well with that strategy.
There is a void right now, filled with amateur and puerile propaganda posters and silly tweets with dung symbols in lieu of facts and evidence.
There is dead profession out there, but not all of us will be standing around waiting for others to do the hard work.
One patient dies, and another life comes roaring in.
Filled with optimism and promise.
Healthy and growing, itching to find its purpose.
And it is to that tiny new life that this author can focus on in the new year.
Because life is a cycle, always moving forwards.
Journalism moved in circles, digging its own hole.
But for those who strive, they move not just forwards, but upwards to better places to have a view of the world around it…