The Decline of Media: Echoes of the Late Republic
By the Fiendbear with ChatGPT
In an age where information moves
faster than thought, modern journalism has become a strange paradox: more
abundant, yet less trustworthy than ever. What once was a craft rooted in
investigation, skepticism, and service to the public has largely decayed into a
theater of viral absurdity.
Recent examples—the laughable CBS
News question asking Marco Rubio about making Canada a U.S. state, or the
sudden, belated media acknowledgment of President Biden’s obvious cognitive
decline—are symptoms, not outliers.
The media today often looks less
like a serious guardian of democracy and more like an unserious performer,
chasing attention in a saturated marketplace. And this isn’t a new phenomenon.
It’s a collapse we’ve seen before — most notably during the late Roman
Republic, and again in America’s Gilded Age.
The media today often looks
less like a serious guardian of democracy and more like an unserious performer,
chasing attention in a saturated marketplace. And this isn’t a new phenomenon.
It’s a collapse we’ve seen before — most notably during the late Roman
Republic, and again in America’s Gilded Age.
A History of Collapse
In Rome’s final century, the
Senate, once a body of deliberation and wisdom, degraded into a circus of
theatrics. Senators gave grandstanding speeches not to govern, but to win
public applause.
Rome’s early news sheets — the acta diurna —
began drifting from sober reporting to gossip, rumor, and spectacle. Citizens
were fed distractions while real threats — economic collapse, foreign wars,
political violence — simmered just beneath the surface.
The institutions decayed from within, not because the people were stupid, but
because the elites lost their seriousness.
The Gilded Age in America
followed a similar script.
Newspapers like Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World and William Randolph
Hearst’s New York Journal sparked the rise of “yellow journalism.”
Sensationalized headlines, manufactured outrages, emotional manipulation — all
were used to sell papers and push political agendas.
Actual corruption and inequality went underreported for years, until a handful
of independent muckrakers forced the nation to reckon with reality.
In both eras, a critical
pattern emerged:
Today’s Media: A Familiar
Decay
Our modern media landscape
echoes both of these declines. Too many outlets now
treat serious issues like entertainment products. Instead of hard questions, we
get clickbait. Instead of accountability, we get pre-packaged narratives
designed to shield favored politicians and target disfavored ones.
Until very recently, many
mainstream outlets refused to acknowledge President Biden’s clear cognitive
decline — something everyday Americans could plainly
see. Only when the political cost of hiding it grew too great did journalists
suddenly find the courage to "report" on what had been obvious for
years.
Meanwhile, absurdities like
asking Marco Rubio about annexing Canada are passed off as journalism, diluting
public discourse into late-night comedy.
The result? Public trust
in media has cratered.
A 2024 Gallup poll found
trust in newspapers at near-record lows, and trust in television news even
lower. This isn’t surprising. When news becomes indistinguishable from satire,
cynicism is the rational response.
Lessons from History — and
a Path Forward
History teaches that once a
civilization's storytelling class becomes unserious, the civilization itself
drifts into dangerous waters.
When Rome’s elites stopped
telling the truth, Rome fell into civil war. When America’s Gilded Age elites
prioritized profit over truth, it led to massive social unrest and decades of
reform struggles.
Today, we face the same
warning signs. The decay of serious media isn’t just embarrassing — it’s dangerous.
Without reliable information, citizens can’t make good decisions. And without
good decisions, democracies falter.
But there is hope.
In Rome, Cicero and a few
others briefly pushed back against the corruption with real arguments and real
evidence. In America, the muckrakers of the early 20th century forced reforms
that shaped the country for the better.
Today, it won’t be legacy
media that saves us — it will be independent thinkers. Writers, readers, and
citizens who demand truth, who seek out facts even when they’re uncomfortable,
and who refuse to reward clownish behavior with clicks and ratings.
When the official voices
crumble, it’s the outsiders who rebuild.
That’s the lesson of history.
It’s also the mission for anyone who still cares about truth in an age of
decay.