Milton, Murrow, and the Fight Worth Having at Thanksgiving Dinner
Forget the "wires and lights in a box." Journalism is the vital infrastructure free people use to discover the truth—and it's a legacy we must defend.
In 1644, a poet named John Milton did something that could have gotten him killed. He published a pamphlet arguing against government censorship. He put his own name on it, knowing the risk.
In Milton’s day, printers could go to jail, or be hanged, for putting out what was considered seditious material.
Milton was right. He was right about what was more important than his own life, or his own livelihood.
Truth is not a fiat, pronounced by a politician or a preacher, to the effect of, “This is true, now go print it.” Truth is arrived at through a messy, open encounter. It is shared and expressed through a diversity of voices.
The pamphlet was titled “Areopagitica,” and is still considered foundational to the cause of freedom of the press. It was not because Milton was polite that he was right. It was because he was right that people were polite.
Three centuries later, on October 15, 1958, Edward R. Murrow was addressing a group of broadcast journalists in Chicago. He was telling them something they did not want to hear.
Television, he said, could teach. It could inspire. It could enlighten. Or it could be, in his now famous phrase, “nothing more than wires and lights in a box.” The decision was up to the people using the technology.
The speech was greeted like a lead balloon. His peers were angry. His boss at CBS was apoplectic. Murrow knew the speech would have a cost to his career, but he gave it anyway. Some things are worth saying even when they make people uncomfortable.
Here is the key point that both men grasped: journalism is not a job description. It is the mechanism by which free people come to an understanding of what is true.
It is messy. It is imperfect. It sometimes gets it wrong. But the alternative is having someone else decide what you are allowed to know.
At this Thanksgiving, we will be talking about trust metrics, sustainability models, and revenue shortfalls. It’s as good a time as any to remember what journalism makes possible. Don’t just think of the stories it tells, but the conversations it makes possible. The accountability it helps create. The dogged insistence that truth is worth more than convenience.
The work my colleagues and I do at API—measuring sourcing diversity, documenting community impact, demonstrating value to funders—is part of the same long lineage. We are asking some version of the same question.
How do we prove that journalism’s democratic function is worth protecting? How do we show that a free press is not a luxury item, but vital infrastructure?
Milton risked his life for it. Murrow risked his career for it. At the least, we should be willing to make the case at Thanksgiving dinner.
So, yes, thank God for journalists. But be thankful more than that, that we live in a society where we still get to argue about what is true. Be thankful that accountability isn’t optional. Be thankful that the work of informing communities is considered valuable enough to fight for.
That whole thing is worth defending.
That whole thing is worth a toast.
What’s the one piece of journalism you’re most thankful for this year? Share your answer in the comments.
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