Journalism is dead. Long live ...

I.

Since my youth, I have devoted myself to writing, sometimes more intensely, sometimes less so. The latter is due to the paid work necessary to make a living in our Western societies, which fulfills me sometimes more, sometimes less, and sometimes not at all. But as a family man, I have taken on obligations from which I do not wish to shirk.

For many years—or rather, decades—my writing was literary in nature, devoted to poetry. During those unspeakable years when the “coronavirus wave” swept across the globe, I began working as a journalist. First at the RESPEKT platform, a civil society initiative that opposed the Covid hype; then at the independent media platform Idealism Prevails; later at the online magazine for freedom, Unsere ZeitenWende; and most recently on my own blog, mkd.report{s].

I immersed myself in the state of the world, in the decisions made by political leaders, and in all the absurdities that have led us to where we are today in global politics. A sense of hopelessness set in; the fight against windmills seemed doomed to failure on this path, because it can never be won this way. I didn’t realize this until it was too late, when I was already tired, exhausted, irritable, and aloof. On top of that, my body was clearly telling me that my soul was suffering. My mind had gained the upper hand; my sense of self lay in ruins. A high price to pay.

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II.

With Julian Assange’s confession (I have written about his fate on several occasions), which finally granted him the personal freedom he deserved to live with his family, journalism was dealt the final blow. Already with his arrest and all the madness that followed, independent, investigative reporting was made a criminal offense. Anyone who fails to follow the unspoken but binding rules that have been in place since then must expect consequences that could even threaten their livelihood.

But was journalism—often referred to in the West as the “fourth estate”—ever truly free and independent? A look at the history books (which should generally be viewed with caution, if not skepticism) tells a different story. Time and again, there were individual journalists—and, in exceptional cases, entire newsrooms—who not only committed themselves to this ideal but also actually lived by it. The rest remained silent.

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III.

Heeding the call of my soul—of my true self—as conveyed through my body, I have given up all my journalistic activities in recent weeks, most recently including the monthly review for Idealism Prevails and my membership on the editorial board of Unsere ZeitenWende.

Freed from these bastions that were once so important to me, I now devote myself exclusively to literary writing. Even texts like these, which I classify as “Essays for Visionaries,” are for me more an expression of my poetic soul than of my journalistic talent. From now on, I will devote all my writing skills exclusively to this.

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IV.

If journalism is now dead, what will take its place? The answer has not yet been definitively determined, but the path to it has been laid out. Literature—whether poetry or prose—has always been a driving force behind social change. An inspiring work of fiction sparks more action than a newspaper article, blog post, or audio or video podcast because it offers possibilities for identification and solutions that go beyond—indeed, transcend—current reality.

And that’s why I feel I’m on the right path, and I’m happy when one or the other want to join me in this new direction. Change begins with exactly this first step. May many follow!

Photo by Jen Theodore auf Unsplash