Everybody Has a Microphone. Does Anybody Have a Source?

When journalism, podcasts, and public relations become indistinguishable.

Once upon a time, journalism involved investigating a story, verifying information, interviewing sources, checking facts, and presenting findings so the public could make informed decisions.

At least, that was the general idea.

Now, apparently, all you need is a microphone, a camera, a strong opinion, and an internet connection.

Congratulations! You're a media personality.

Throw in a few sponsors, an affiliate link, and a catchy introduction, and you might even convince people you're a journalist.

But having a podcast does not make you a journalist any more than owning a stethoscope makes you a cardiologist.

And unfortunately, having a journalism degree or working for a major news organization doesn't automatically mean you're practicing good journalism, either.

Somewhere along the way, the lines between journalism, commentary, entertainment, activism, advertising, and outright public relations became remarkably blurry.

And I have a question.

Is anybody still interested in reporting the news, or is everybody selling something?

Everybody Has an Angle

Let me clarify something.

I have absolutely no problem with people having opinions. I have an entire blog dedicated to sharing mine.

The difference is that I am not pretending this blog is an independent news organization.

I am an advocate. I have positions on legislation, government accountability, military and veteran benefits, and numerous other issues.

You know where I'm coming from.

I also believe that when I make a factual claim, I should be prepared to provide supporting evidence. My opinions belong to me, but the facts don't.

Unfortunately, that distinction seems increasingly optional in today's media environment.

Turn on a podcast or watch a news segment, and you may encounter someone who has already decided what the conclusion should be.

The interview isn't necessarily about discovering information. It's about getting the guest to reinforce an existing narrative.

The questions aren't designed to challenge the argument. They're designed to promote it.

And heaven forbid anyone introduces evidence that complicates the storyline.

That might upset the audience.

Or worse, the sponsors.

A Podcast Is Not an Investigation

I actually enjoy podcasts.

They can provide valuable information, introduce interesting perspectives, and give people opportunities to discuss subjects traditional media frequently overlooks.

Some podcasters conduct extensive research, interview opposing viewpoints, correct mistakes, and produce excellent investigative work.

Others invite their friends over to spend three hours agreeing with one another.

Both are perfectly entitled to have podcasts.

But they are not doing the same job.

An interview is not automatically an investigation. An accusation is not automatically evidence. And having 500,000 subscribers does not make someone a reliable source.

When someone makes a serious allegation, I want to know what supports it.

Where are the documents? Who independently verified the information? Was the accused person given an opportunity to respond? What information contradicts the allegation?

And perhaps most importantly, what relationships or financial interests might influence the people presenting the story?

If your entire investigation consists of interviewing three people who already agree with you, congratulations.

You have successfully organized a group conversation.

And Then There Are the Actual Journalists

Unfortunately, traditional journalism isn't getting a free pass here.

Professional journalists operate under ethical standards that distinguish reporting from advocacy, advertising, and opinion.

At least, they're supposed to.

Yet audiences increasingly encounter news organizations where reporting, analysis, political commentary, and entertainment are packaged together.

One minute, someone is delivering verified information.

The next, they're offering personal interpretations, speculating about someone's motives, or telling viewers what they should think about the information they just received.

Sometimes the distinction is clear.

Sometimes it most certainly is not.

News organizations also have financial incentives. Advertising, subscriptions, audience engagement, corporate ownership, and competition all influence the business of delivering news.

That doesn't automatically invalidate their reporting.

But it certainly gives consumers a reason to pay attention.

Journalism should investigate powerful people and institutions, not function as their marketing department.

And that standard should apply regardless of political affiliation, corporate relationships, or personal friendships.

Follow the Money, the Microphone, and the Merchandise

Here's where things get particularly interesting.

Podcasters have sponsors. News organizations have advertisers. Influencers have partnerships. Some political commentators have consulting relationships, speaking engagements, subscription platforms, and merchandise.

There is absolutely nothing inherently wrong with earning money.

I would personally love to figure out how to get paid for all the research and writing I do.

But I also believe people deserve to know when the person presenting information has a financial, professional, or personal interest in the subject.

Are you investigating an organization, or are you promoting one?

Are you interviewing someone because they have relevant expertise, or because they're selling a book?

Are you presenting an independent analysis, or repeating talking points supplied by someone with a vested interest?

Are you criticizing a person because the evidence warrants criticism, or because public conflict generates attention?

Those are legitimate questions.

And if asking them makes someone uncomfortable, perhaps they should reconsider their business model.

Outrage Is an Excellent Marketing Strategy

Nothing generates attention quite like a good public fight.

Two people respectfully discussing a complicated issue?

Interesting, perhaps.

Two people accusing each other of dishonesty while threatening to release explosive information?

Now we're talking engagement!

Add a dramatic thumbnail, an ominous title, and the promise that someone is about to EXPOSE EVERYTHING, and you've got yourself a potentially profitable episode.

Meanwhile, the audience is left sorting through competing accusations, selective evidence, carefully edited clips, and emotionally charged commentary.

Before long, people aren't evaluating information.

They're defending personalities.

And that is precisely where things get dangerous.

When audiences become emotionally invested in a particular media personality, questioning that person's claims can start to feel like a personal attack.

Evidence becomes secondary to loyalty.

Sound familiar?

Journalism Should Make Us Think, Not Tell Us What to Think

I don't expect journalists to be emotionless robots.

I don't expect podcasters to abandon their opinions.

And I certainly don't expect every media organization to survive without generating revenue.

What I expect is transparency.

Tell me when you're reporting. Tell me when you're offering an opinion. Disclose relevant conflicts of interest. Present evidence. Correct mistakes. And when you don't know something, have the professional integrity to say so.

Perhaps most importantly, stop treating audiences like they're incapable of reaching their own conclusions.

Give people the information.

Let them evaluate it.

And accept that reasonable people might reach different conclusions using the same verified facts.

That is considerably more useful than another hour of someone explaining why their preferred villain is responsible for everything wrong with civilization.

Here's an Unpopular Idea: Verify It Yourself

As consumers, we aren't entirely innocent in this mess.

We share headlines without reading articles. We circulate video clips without watching complete interviews. We accept claims from people we like while demanding extraordinary evidence from people we dislike.

We reward outrage with attention and then complain that everything has become outrageous.

Perhaps we should start asking a few questions before sharing the latest scandal.

• Who originally reported this information?

• What evidence supports the claim?

• Are we hearing the complete story or a carefully selected portion?

• Has anyone independently verified it?

• Is this news, analysis, advertising, or somebody's personal opinion?

• Who benefits from the audience believing this particular version of events?

And my personal favorite:

Am I being informed, entertained, manipulated, or sold something?

Those categories occasionally overlap, but we ought to recognize the difference.

The Microphone Isn't the Problem

There are excellent journalists doing difficult, important work. There are independent reporters exposing problems that major news organizations overlook. There are podcasters providing thoughtful interviews, meaningful analysis, and valuable public education.

Those people deserve recognition.

But the technology that gives everyone a platform also gives everyone the opportunity to present themselves as an authority.

Credibility shouldn't be determined by production quality, subscriber counts, celebrity guests, military service, political access, or the number of expensive microphones sitting on a table.

It should be earned through accuracy, transparency, intellectual honesty, and accountability.

And here's a thought for everyone making a living telling the rest of us what's happening in the world.

If you're selling me an opinion, call it an opinion. If you're selling me a product, disclose the relationship. And if you're claiming to report the news, do the actual journalism.

I don't need another personality telling me what to believe.

I need accurate information so I can decide for myself.

Because having a microphone gives you a voice.

It doesn't automatically give you credibility.

And having a press credential doesn't excuse you from having to earn it.