Rikleen is executive director of Lawyers Defending American Democracy and the editor of “Her Honor – Stories of Challenge and Triumph from Women Judges.” Beougher is a junior at Amherst College and a co-founder of Students Strengthening American Democracy.
As attacks on democracy and the rule of law continually increase, much of the media refuses to address its role in intensifying the peril.
Instead of asking hard questions and insisting on answers, traditional media outlets increasingly trade news and facts for speculative commentary that ignores a story’s contextual significance. At the same time, social media outlets and influencers stoke anger as an alternative to thoughtfulness.
Examples abound every day. The New York Times just posed 21 detailed policy questions that Vice President Kamala Harris should answer, without offering a similar set of questions for former President Donald Trump. Most traditional and social media outlets have ignored detailed investigative reporting into whether, days before the 2016 election, the president of Egypt gave Trump an illegal $10 million donation. That failure of reporting has also allowed Trump’s last attorney general, William Barr, to evade scrutiny about whether he prematurely shut down the government’s investigation into the gift.
This is not simply about candidates being treated differently. It reveals an abrogation of responsibility with grave implications, particularly for younger generations seeking trusted sources of information and exploring how to marshal arguments based on facts. Instead, they are bombarded by media outlets that sacrifice accuracy, analysis and truth for speculation, anger and disinformation, resulting in a pervasive distrust of the media.
By using algorithms that consistently select content that evokes anger and outrage, engagement is maximized, and media sources profit from the attention. Information that enlightens and informs takes a back seat to hyped emotions that increase viewership and interaction, leading to greater profits. The result is an upside-down world of incentives that promote less factual reporting and more rampant speculation that drives emotions and deepens the divisions in this country.
But the incentives may prove to offer only short-term benefits. Traditional and social media outlets that seek a younger demographic to grow their future revenues may find themselves thwarted by a generation taking measures to protect their own mental health. The incessant inflammatory rhetoric, meaningless speculation and failures to fact check may be resulting in young adults rejecting these platforms in favor of their well-being.
Moreover, the greatest hazard resulting from a disinformation environment where the incentives lead to increased toxicity and a less-informed electorate is alienation, driving young and future voters away from the polls.
Historically, when an intervention was warranted to curb societal dangers, we could look to legislative solutions to shape some form of relief. The toxic nature of our public square itself, however, has contributed to the paralysis of Congress. And Supreme Court decisions under Chief Justice John Roberts have repeatedly prevented the government from protecting the public from speech that spreads lies or that can lead to serious harm to targeted groups.
If neither Congress, the Supreme Court nor the media can be counted on to deliver interventions, it may be up to each of us to try to alter the algorithms that promote anger and division.
The first step is to recognize that every click on a video, news article or post that is spreading inflammatory and potentially false information teaches that algorithm that you will respond to similar stimuli. Fortunately, we are already seeing signs that members of Gen Z are trying to retrain algorithms and regain power over their own feeds.
It is important to offer media outlets different incentives — ones that will focus on facts and reject outrage. We do so when we seek information sources that care about truth, accountability and well-being. This task involves ingenuity and energy but the reward is finding truthful information that can be shared widely. For example, before clicking on a story that appears designed to induce anger and disinformation, test its veracity through sources such as FactCheck.org.
Become an explorer who finds new sources and resources. Consider the work of the National Institute for Civil Discourse, which has launched the Media Roundtable to help shift incentive structures away from rewarding the exploitation of differences. Younger activists are channeling their own anger into mobilizing and sharing facts and information on causes of deep concern.
Universities are becoming increasingly involved in the important work of teaching media literacy, particularly in the engagement of young people. Projects such as the Media Education Lab and Teach for Chicago Journalism offer resources and approaches to building savvier media consumers.
Demanding truth, refusing clickbait, and turning away from disinformation and speculation sends a strong message to traditional and social media sources and advertisers that it is time to listen to those seeking responsible information. Media outlets that thrive on rage, prognostication, speculation and division must be thwarted by alternatives that speak truth to power.
For democracy and the rule of law to survive and flourish, anger and disinformation cannot be business as usual. Media outlets that focus on facts and truth build trust with future consumers, particularly the younger generations on whom their survival ultimately depends.
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.