We’re watching something sacred slowly fall apart. This isn’t a coup with tanks in the streets—it’s something far more dangerous—disinformation, distrust, and the daily erosion of truth.
When we allow our media ecosystem to be infiltrated by garbage—by conspiracy theories disguised as journalism, propaganda masquerading as opinion, and clickbait rewarded over clarity—we do more than just cheapen our discourse. We chip away at democracy until there’s nothing left to stand on.
The lifeblood of a functioning democracy is trust—trust in institutions, in a shared set of facts, in the idea that even if we disagree, we’re arguing from the same reality. But when that trust is replaced with suspicion, when science is called fake and journalism is branded the enemy, we cross into dangerous territory. We stop holding power accountable and start believing everyone is lying. We trade justice for outrage—and call it balance.
This is not accidental. It’s not just the byproduct of a broken algorithm. It is a coordinated assault on the public’s ability to know what’s real. And when the people no longer know what’s real, anything is possible—especially tyranny.
Look around—how many people do you know who swear by things that aren’t even close to true? How many are radicalized not by policy or principle, but by YouTube clips and Facebook memes crafted to stir hate and fuel division? The louder the lie, the quicker it spreads. The more unhinged the conspiracy, the more profitable the platform. And the more divided we are, the easier it is to silence dissent, rig the rules, and centralize power in the hands of the already powerful.
This is how democracies die—not when people stop voting, but when they stop believing their vote counts. Not when elections are stolen, but when people are convinced they will be, no matter the outcome. Not when the Constitution is rewritten, but when its meaning becomes irrelevant in a culture that no longer values truth.
Here in New Orleans, a city with a long history of resistance, resilience, and righteous rebellion, we must be on the frontlines of truth. We cannot let our platforms be poisoned. We cannot let our stories be hijacked. We can’t keep pretending ‘both sides’ applies when one side’s peddling poison.
Because there aren’t two sides to a lie. There’s just the truth—and the people trying to bury it.
We owe it to our city, to our children, and to the fragile promise of democracy itself to do better. To demand better. To fight for a media culture rooted not in chaos, but in clarity. Not in clicks, but in conscience.
Because when lies become the language of power, democracy isn’t just at risk—it’s already bleeding out.
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