A blog dedicated to philosophy, history, politics, literature
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Sunday, December 31, 2023
When Law Forgets Dharma: Civilizational Crisis in Hindu Personal Jurisprudence
Saturday, December 30, 2023
Narendra Modi: In comparison to Thatcher, Xiaoping, Reagan and Gorbachev
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Narendra Modi |
Monday, December 25, 2023
There are no good civilizations and evil civilizations
Saturday, December 23, 2023
The savage and the citizen: A philosophy of territory and property
Saturday, December 16, 2023
Two failed ideologies: socialism & capitalism
Sunday, December 10, 2023
Journalism: The Frightful Monstrosity and Delusion
“Journalism possesses in itself the potentiality of becoming one of the most frightful monstrosities and delusions that have ever cursed mankind. This horrible transformation will occur at the exact instant at which journalists realise that they can become an aristocracy.” ~ G. K. Chesterton, The New Priests (1901)
Chesterton wrote these words more than a century ago, but their prophetic resonance has only deepened with time. In the twenty-first century, we no longer live under the shadow of medieval churches or monarchs; our world is atheistic in temper and nihilistic in drift. Yet the collapse of older forms of authority has not left us freer. Instead, a new priesthood has arisen.
Its vestments are not of cassock and robe, but of camera and column. Its pulpits are not altars but television studios, newspaper pages, and social media feeds. Journalism has assumed the sacerdotal role—dispensing doctrines disguised as news, preaching sermons under the guise of analysis, shaping belief with the authority once reserved for religion.
Every day, the faithful are summoned to the liturgy of “breaking news.” Headlines blare like the bells of a cathedral, summoning the masses to attend to the latest revelation. The journalist speaks with the solemnity of a confessor and the certainty of a prophet. But unlike the old priests, who at least gestured toward eternal truths, today’s journalists traffic in shifting narratives, manufactured spectacles, and ideological dogmas. Their task is not to seek truth but to generate obedience; not to illuminate reality but to colonise perception.
The result is precisely what Chesterton foresaw: journalism has discovered its aristocratic vocation. It has become not the humble recorder of events but the maker of reality itself, declaring which facts are admissible and which must be exiled, which voices are worthy and which must be silenced. Under its dominion, pseudo-science masquerades as settled science, buffoons are canonised as intellectuals, and lies, repeated often enough, harden into the substance of collective memory.
Thus journalism, which once styled itself as the guardian of liberty, has become its usurper. It promised to speak truth to power, but it has become power; it promised to hold aristocracies accountable, but it has become the crooked aristocracy of our time. Its members sit not merely above governments and markets but above conscience itself, certain that their “narrative” is the final word.
Chesterton’s dire warning has been fulfilled. Journalism, unmoored from humility and truth, has indeed become a frightful monstrosity—a delusion more pervasive than any priestcraft of the past. It governs not by reasoned persuasion but by saturation, by the endless liturgy of the spectacle. And until it is dethroned from this aristocratic self-image, it will remain the most dangerous delusion of our age.