At Large

The barrage of wild and, at times, flagrant pronouncements that now seem to make up what has come to be considered “news” is quite alarming. One can recall that time, seemingly eons ago, when Walter Cronkhite would calmly and directly report what had happened during the day. There were no histrionics, no inflammatory sound bites, no table pounding in those reports: just the news.

How times have changed. 

It seems that no news cycle – holidays and weekends included – can be complete without some outrageous spewing.

There are times when we find some kind of moderate solace in the wisdom offered up by those who came before us and, it would appear, went through similar troubling times. 

Honest Abe … no fooling

Although historians seem to be divided on the accuracy of the quote, the majority seem to side with the notion that Abraham Lincoln, in a campaign address, offered up the often-cited pronouncement – “You can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time.”

In a kind of “pretzel logic” twist and turn, this may be the answer to a cry that found its way into an almost 3,000-year-old poem. You can find Psalm 13 in the family Bible … or online, if you don’t want to spend the time trying to find where you put it. “How long, O Lord. How long am I to feel anxious in my soul?”

The implication is that there’s an answer to this dislocation of facts and moral integrity. After the darkest night, after all, we are treated to a new dawn.

The opening door

So, where does this ramble through the Berkshire Hills of memory lead us? To the calendar.

It is 2026. It’s May. Tax time has passed, the yearning for spring that encompasses us all is poking green shoots around stone walls, and the lawn needs its “spring clean-up.”

And, it’s midterm season.

Every two years, as citizens of this country, we are offered the right to vote. We are informed of the procedures and processes: how to register, when votes can be recorded, where to go if voting in person is your choice.

Our responsibility, if we choose to accept it (old Mission Impossible trigger line for those of a certain age) is to exercise that right and be part of the process that determines who leads, shapes, and manages our democracy for the next two years. Presidential election years get a great deal of justified focus. Midterms need to be elevated to that level. Every seat in the House of Representatives is in play. One third of the Senate is in play.

AI … and AT

Certainly it’s a sign of advancing years, but the prospect of our lives being taken over by various iterations of artificial intelligence is daunting. Perhaps previous generations felt the same way about such now-commonplace things that we take for granted in our current lives as automobiles, telephones, indoor plumbing, air travel, more than three, then four channels of television, computers, cell phones, the Internet … the list can be numbing. As Westbrook Van Voorhis would intone with stentorian power in serialized theatrical documentaries of long ago, we are merely trudging along in “The March of Time.”

We wonder if, more than AI, we need to be fearful of AT – Artificial Truth. The preponderance of lies that go unchallenged and, with rhythmic repetition, seem to become accepted truth is staggering. Beyond simple denial, the fabrication of “facts” and the braggadocio that has become the common undercurrent of seemingly all political discourse are, at the very least, numbing. The signs of our reaction are quite telling. 

First, there’s selective reading and viewing; some only watch the channels that reinforce their deep-seated beliefs. Second, some engage in hours of painful wailing with like-minded, mostly faceless individuals on various forms of social media. The third circle of descent has some refusing to watch anything that is purportedly “news.” The isolation that indicates having descended to the final level can be both socially and intellectually crippling.

We hunger for the truth. We are ravenous when offered the chance to sample unvarnished facts. 

And, did we mention it … it’s the beginning of midterms.

A casual pact

Let’s make a pact. Let’s “pinky swear” that we’re going to try our very hardest to listen carefully, to read with keen interest, and to make decisions in up-coming elections that will range from choosing members of school boards and planning commissions to members of the United States Senate. Let’s work very hard to see if there might be a grain of truth in what is said … and a sliver of hope in what might happen.

It was Mark Twain, that witty, insightful, and often-acerbic commentator on American life who noted that in campaigns for public office, “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.” •