Tuesday, July 12, 2022

The Last Journalist

 On Monday I traveled into the city to participate in an ethics seminar for interns. In my previous life, this would have been a routine event, but as a retired person, it was unusual.

It also was pleasurable. And special.

For me, it’s always an honor to speak with young people at the beginning of their careers, mainly because we need them. We need journalists. We need story-tellers. We need artists. We need singers.

I am 75. They are roughly a third of my age or less.

My life is mainly behind me. Theirs is mainly ahead of them. Given the state of the world we are leaving them, there are things I can tell them, sure, but there are much more relevant things they can tell me.

Sometimes I feel like a dying breed. Reporters breaking big stories are rarities now. The Post has had some important work on Uber, thanks to a whistleblower. But that is the exception.

Occasionally I’ll tell war stories but that feels pointless. I’m more interested in them — the journalists of the future.

What do they think is ethical? Moral? What matters? Obviously, they will determine these answers going forward, not me. And that’s how it should be. Let’s just hope they get it right.

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