Cracks in the Foundation
How the weakening of journalism and civics threatens the democratic project
The news industry is going through something. A long, painful transformation that’s left it shaky, unsure of its role, and—at times—dangerously hollowed out.
But this isn’t just about job cuts or shuttered newspapers. What’s happening to journalism isn’t just a media story—it’s a democracy story. Because when the press weakens, the foundation of the country starts to shift beneath our feet.
Somewhere along the way, the idea of news as a public service gave way to news as entertainment. Journalism was pushed into the realm of profit margins and quarterly reports. Marketing took the wheel. Audience targeting replaced editorial judgment. And the mission slowly changed—from informing the public to keeping it engaged. Or worse, addicted.
Then came the silos. We stopped gathering around the same set of facts and started retreating into tailored narratives. One for the left. One for the right. One for the conspiracy crowd. And with algorithms feeding each group exactly what it wants to hear, many Americans aren’t just uninformed, they’re differently informed and living in separate realities.
And yet we still ask this fractured public to vote, to govern, to compromise, to solve big problems together.
But democracy doesn’t work without a shared understanding of truth. It can’t function if half the country sees lies as facts and the other half sees facts as optional. Free elections are only meaningful if voters are making informed choices. And those choices rely on credible information and an educated public that knows how the system works.
Which brings us to another part of the crisis: education.
We’ve hollowed out civics education in this country. Ask the average adult how a bill becomes a law, or what the First Amendment actually protects, and you’ll likely get blank stares—or worse, passionate but factually wrong answers. That’s not entirely their fault. We stopped teaching this stuff.
And even when we do teach it, the textbooks themselves have become political battlegrounds—scrubbed clean of anything that might offend one group or another. Instead of giving students the tools to think critically and engage with complexity, we offer sanitized narratives shaped to fit ideological comfort zones.
We stopped preparing kids to know how to separate reality from bullshit.
That’s a dangerous combination: a weakened press and an under-informed citizenry. It creates a fertile ground for conspiracy theories, rage politics, and a media ecosystem driven more by dopamine than by duty.
Governing becomes impossible. Compromise gets painted as betrayal. Politicians perform for clicks instead of crafting policy. And voters, too often, are left choosing between caricatures, while the real issues go unaddressed.
We don’t need to rewind history—just ask better questions about where we’re headed.
A future where journalism is sustainable, independent, and accountable—but not dictated by clicks. A future where civic education matters again. Where facts aren’t up for auction. And where we remember that freedom isn’t just about what we’re allowed to say, it’s about what we know when we say it.
Because truth isn’t just a virtue, it’s infrastructure.
And without it, the whole system buckles.
If Edward R. Murrow were alive, he’d be horrified by what much of the media landscape has become. He warned us, after all, about the danger of news becoming entertainment, about the seductive power of spectacle over substance.
But here’s the kicker: someone like Murrow wouldn’t even get hired today, not at any outlet with real reach. Not without a viral clip reel, a TikTok hook, or a partisan edge. The Murrow of 2025 would be freelancing on some social media platform, hoping the algorithm smiles on him. And we’d all be poorer for it.