The very fabric of truth is unraveling at an alarming rate; Howard Thurman's wisdom about listening for the sound of the genuine is not just relevant but urgent. In the face of the escalating crisis of disinformation, distortion and the unsettling normalization of immoral and unethical practices, particularly in electoral politics and executive leadership, the need to cultivate the art of discernment and informed listening is more pressing than ever.
Thurman, a theologian and civil rights leader, understood that a more profound, authentic sound can guide persons toward justice, compassion and truth amidst the cacophony of life. Thurman believed sincerely in the spiritual discipline of listening. More specifically, listening for the genuineness in sound — truth. Such sound or truth is imminent from within ourselves and reverberates in the world around us. In the face of lies, manipulation and the erosion of ethical standards, especially in the current presidential transition, Thurman's admonishment to listen for the genuine remains a beacon of hope and a practical strategy for resistance and transformation.
How do we listen for the genuine in such a fraught and confusing time? First, commit to honesty and truth-telling, even when difficult or uncomfortable. This means seeking out credible sources of information, fact-checking and being willing to question and challenge false or misleading narratives, especially those who seek to justify their l behavior.
Second, it is helpful to listen intently to and amplify the voices of those historically marginalized and silenced. The authentic sound of justice and equity often comes from the edges and fringes of society, from those who have the most to lose when the truth is distorted and ethics are abandoned. By centering the perspectives and experiences of the most vulnerable, we can gain a greater sense of what is truly at stake in this moment. This is a humane responsibility we all share and a powerful source for encouraging change.
Listening to the genuine is about more than just absorbing information or perspectives. Genuine listening is a powerful tool that catalyzes discernment and action, enabling listeners to distinguish between the proverbial noise and the deeper sound of truth and moral rightness. This type of attentiveness is not a passive process. On the contrary, genuine listening is an active intellectual exercise that provokes critical thinking, ethical reflection, compassion and integrity, empowering us to make a difference.
Acknowledging the sound of the genuine also warrants a thoughtful and intentional response or action. When we hear the ring of truth, it demands that we not only recognize it, but that we mobilize in some way. This might mean challenging or correcting the inaccuracies and misinformation that surround us, whether in our personal conversations or in the public discourse. It could involve advocating for policies and practices that align with ethical standards and promote justice and equality. At times, it may even call for engaging in diverse forms of activism, from signing petitions and attending marches to contacting our elected officials and volunteering our time and skills to causes that matter.
Listening to the genuine and then acting in response has the potential to give way to a different kind of body politics and society — one that is grounded in plausible and substantiated premises, rather than lies and propaganda. A society built on the genuine would be one that upholds morality and ethics at its core, rather than self-interest and greed. It would be a society that shows a deep and abiding concern for the collective good of all people, recognizing that our individual well-being is inextricably tied to innumerable others.
In this kind of society, we would work together to address our shared challenges and to build a future that is more just, equitable and peaceful for all. I concur with Thurman that listening for the genuine sound is both spiritual and political. This particular approach to activating auditory perception is a way of tuning our hearts and minds towards the deep. Listening to the sound of the genuine is a means of radical resistance to inhumane, immoral and antidemocratic forces.
In the crucible of this moment, revisit Thurman's wisdom, like me. Listen and seek out sounds of the genuine, within and without self. Allow truth to serve as a compass in the face of disinformation, authoritarianism and acceptance of flawed efficacy.
Johnson is a United Methodist pastor, the author of "Holding Up Your Corner: Talking About Race in Your Community" and program director for the Bridge Alliance, which houses The Fulcrum.
A deep look at how "All in the Family" remains a striking mirror of American politics, class tensions, and cultural manipulation—proving its relevance decades later.
All in This American Family
There are a few shows that have aged as eerily well as All in the Family.
It’s not just that it’s still funny and has the feel not of a sit-com, but of unpretentious, working-class theatre. It’s that, decades later, it remains one of the clearest windows into the American psyche. Archie Bunker’s living room has been, as it were, a small stage on which the country has been working through the same contradictions, anxieties, and unresolved traumas that still shape our politics today. The manipulation of the working class, the pitting of neighbor against neighbor, the scapegoating of the vulnerable, the quiet cruelties baked into everyday life—all of it is still here with us. We like to reassure ourselves that we’ve progressed since the early 1970s, but watching the show now forces an unsettling recognition: The structural forces that shaped Archie’s world have barely budged. The same tactics of distraction and division deployed by elites back then are still deployed now, except more efficiently, more sleekly.
Archie himself is the perfect vessel for this continuity. He is bigoted, blustery, reactive, but he is also wounded, anxious, and constantly misled by forces above and beyond him. Norman Lear created Archie not as a monster to be hated (Lear’s genius was to make Archie lovable despite his loathsome stands), but as a man trapped by the political economy of his era: A union worker who feels his country slipping away, yet cannot see the hands that are actually moving it. His anger leaks sideways, onto immigrants, women, “hippies,” and anyone with less power than he has. The real villains—the wealthy, the connected, the manufacturers of grievance—remain safely and comfortably offscreen. That’s part of the show’s key insight: It reveals how elites thrive by making sure working people turn their frustrations against each other rather than upward.
Edith, often dismissed as naive or scatterbrained, functions as the show’s quiet moral center. Her compassion exposes the emotional void in Archie’s worldview and, in doing so, highlights the costs of the divisions that powerful interests cultivate. Meanwhile, Mike the “Meathead” represents a generation trying to break free from those divisions but often trapped in its own loud self-righteousness. Their clashes are not just family arguments but collisions between competing visions of America’s future. And those visions, tellingly, have yet to resolve themselves.
The political context of the show only sharpens its relevance. Premiering in 1971, All in the Family emerged during the Nixon years, when the “Silent Majority” strategy was weaponizing racial resentment, cultural panic, and working-class anxiety to cement power. Archie was a fictional embodiment of the very demographic Nixon sought to mobilize and manipulate. The show exposed, often bluntly, how economic insecurity was being rerouted into cultural hostility. Watching the show today, it’s impossible to miss how closely that logic mirrors the present, from right-wing media ecosystems to politicians who openly rely on stoking grievances rather than addressing root causes.
What makes the show unsettling today is that its satire feels less like a relic and more like a mirror. The demagogic impulses it spotlighted have simply found new platforms. The working-class anger it dramatized has been harvested by political operatives who, like their 1970s predecessors, depend on division to maintain power. The very cultural debates that fueled Archie’s tirades — about immigration, gender roles, race, and national identity—are still being used as tools to distract from wealth concentration and political manipulation.
If anything, the divisions are sharper now because the mechanisms of manipulation are more sophisticated, for much has been learned by The Machine. The same emotional raw material Lear mined for comedy is now algorithmically optimized for outrage. The same social fractures that played out around Archie’s kitchen table now play out on a scale he couldn’t have imagined. But the underlying dynamics haven’t changed at all.
That is why All in the Family feels so contemporary. The country Lear dissected never healed or meaningfully evolved: It simply changed wardrobe. The tensions, prejudices, and insecurities remain, not because individuals failed to grow but because the economic and political forces that thrive on division have only become more entrenched. Until we confront the political economy that kept Archie and Michael locked in an endless loop of circular bickering, the show will remain painfully relevant for another fifty years.
Ahmed Bouzid is the co-founder of The True Representation Movement.