What Am I Doing Here?

A relative of mine, who thinks deeply on such matters, challenged me in a recent conversation about what he sees as inconsistencies in my work. I respect his views and welcome the dialogue. I have to admit to myself that the questions he raises are ones I ask myself often.

The gist of his argument is that in much of my career, I steered away from bombast, certainty, and simplistic narratives, trying instead to elevate nuance and complexity. That was my approach during my years as a reporter at CBS News, where I sought out disparate voices and perspectives as a foundation for sound journalism. Engaging with broader contexts and competing perspectives is a sensibility I cultivated with Dan Rather, including in our book What Unites Us and the “Steady” newsletter, where we explored how American identity has always been shaped and reshaped by the pressures of the times.

In my science filmmaking, we trusted our audiences to wrestle with complicated scientific topics and their varied societal implications. And in my most recent films, from The Last Class, about Robert Reich’s final semester of teaching, to the one I’m working on now, where we’re bringing people from different backgrounds together in civil conversation, I have sought out stories that were not bound by the energy of the latest news cycle.

But then there is this “Through the Fog” newsletter, where, as he noted, a recent headline read “This Supreme Court Hates Democracy.” I am well aware that I regularly use harsh rhetoric to describe what I see as a cruel, corrupt, and autocratic regime, often not even extending the niceties of calling it an “administration.”

My family member wasn’t questioning the odiousness of the facts so much as my tone and larger framing. If I am decrying how divisive, caustic, and nakedly political the other side of our great divide has become, but am responding in ways that themselves inflame division and outrage, am I actually being productive? Or am I simply reinforcing the views of people already inclined to agree with me while leaving little room for someone who may feel conflicted, persuadable, and genuinely eager for engagement?

If everyone is just yelling at each other, especially online, it may (on a good day, with an algorithm or two on your side) generate clicks, eyeballs, subscribers, and the head nodding while scrolling that our digital ecosystem increasingly rewards. But is our larger, more noble national experiment of dialogue, debate, and learning from one another being sacrificed in ways that are themselves corrosive to the democratic culture I claim to value?

And on a more personal and fundamental level, how do I reconcile the body of work I have spent decades building with the voice I often use here in this newsletter? Is one more “me” than the other? What do I actually believe?

These are fair and provocative questions, and I think I have answers that are internally consistent. But it is also essential that all of us ask ourselves how we navigate the competing impulses that arise within us, especially in difficult times: the tension between anger and analysis, protest and persuasion, certainty and curiosity.

I do not believe I use my newsletter to vilify people for policy positions or the differing perspectives that one can expect to find in a healthy democracy. My interest in American history has long centered on how those with power choose to wield it, especially when doing so comes at the expense of the freedom and dignity of others.

What I am lashing out at is what I see as a fundamental assault on democracy itself: efforts to destroy trust in our elections, including the violent January 6 insurrection and the subsequent pardoning of many of the rioters; the demonization of immigrants and people of color through ICE raids and hateful language deployed as a political strategy; and the deliberate weakening of systems and institutions that have long undergirded democratic stability, from NATO to the Department of Justice.

Moments of crisis, and there have been many in the short history of this country, often emerge when the distance between those with power and the frustrations of ordinary people grows too vast to sustain. As those pressures intensify, institutions fracture, and the country is often thrust into eras of reinvention and historical reckoning.

The Civil War and the Civil Rights Movement are two obvious examples. But so too were the wrenching social transformations brought by urbanization and westward expansion, the rise of organized labor, the long struggle for women’s suffrage, the environmental movement, and repeated waves of immigration that triggered fierce backlashes of nativism and xenophobia.

I believe we are living through such a period now. This is not simply about Democrats and Republicans or MAGA and the “Resistance.” It is a moment when longstanding structural imbalances in our political system are being exploited in ways that weaken the self-correcting mechanisms of democracy itself. We see this in the disproportionate representational power built into institutions like the Senate and Electoral College, in the continued legacy of racism, and in the corrupting influence of concentrated wealth.

Our media and news ecosystem, once a realm of fierce competition and adversarial journalism that served as a check on governmental power, is now increasingly consolidated into corporate behemoths whose financial self-interest often lies in maintaining close ties to Washington. And much of what we see and hear is filtered through the opaque algorithms of a handful of unaccountable tech companies that profit from outrage, affirmation, and the addictive pull of anger and disgust.

I believe it is essential, especially in times like these, to speak, even to shout, certain truths without hesitation or self-doubt. For example, I don’t think it’s hyperbolic to say that this Supreme Court hates democracy when its decisions repeatedly weaken voting rights protections, expand the role of money in politics, limit the ability of courts to check partisan gerrymandering, undermine the will of voters, and further enshrine the power of entrenched interests.

But, coming back to my relative’s questions, how can we engage with these truths in ways that still encourage dialogue with our fellow citizens? And how do we confront the failures we see in others without losing the humility to recognize the failures within ourselves and our own political movements?

Those who support Democrats must also look critically at the struggles of their own elected leaders to make meaningful progress in blue states on issues like income inequality, affordable housing, education, and public trust in government itself. We should be wary of rigid orthodoxies, social and political environments where dissent is punished rather than debated, and the temptation to reduce complicated human beings into ideological caricatures. A healthy democracy requires room for dissonant voices, uncomfortable conversations, and people who do not fit neatly into a checklist version of what is right and just.

Much of our country is broken, and only more democracy can save it. That means fighting against autocracy with every tool at our disposal while also recognizing that one of the most powerful tools we have is embracing the common humanity of our neighbors and remembering that all of us are complicated people being swept up in the swirling currents of profoundly destabilizing times.

One of the striking realities we have found in filming this upcoming documentary is how Americans of wildly different backgrounds, experiences, and political beliefs are eager for genuine in-person interaction. Being together, face to face, creates a crucible for conversations that otherwise wouldn’t exist. We have watched people work hard to listen to one another. Every one of our convenings has remained civil, even when the conversations became difficult.

One challenge we continue to wrestle with is whether people are softening or censoring their true thoughts and feelings because of the presence of our cameras. Do they feel an obligation to be polite? Or is the opposite also true? That in a modern society increasingly dominated by online discourse, where human interaction is filtered through screens and algorithms, we regress toward angrier, crueler, and more antisocial versions of ourselves?

I worry that the incentives pushing us apart serve the interests of those who profit from division, resentment, and fear. I want to stand up for democracy and what I see as an existential fight for our future, but do so in ways that leave open the possibility of persuasion, dialogue, and human connection. I do not want to bury the injustices I see, nor do I want to close myself off from the perspectives and experiences of others.

In reflecting on these competing instincts, I began to wonder whether this newsletter is itself part of my balancing act. Does having an outlet for my anger and frustration create the mental space necessary to also step back and see a wider picture? This is a place to share my opinions and editorialize, but also to work through how I resist letting my feelings harden into cynicism. I am trying to process this moment without losing sight of the larger historical currents surrounding it. I want to hold onto a sense of optimism because I believe it is essential to building a constructive future. But I also cannot keep everything I find outrageous, dangerous, or unjust bottled up. I have seen how that unresolved frustration can seep into the broader work I am trying to do.

I don’t know if any of these reflections will satisfy my relative’s questions. But I look forward to continuing the conversation and hearing his response to what I’ve written here. I also look forward to sharing this new film with the world and listening to the critiques, disagreements, and perspectives of others. As the people close to me know, I like to talk. But I also like to learn through listening.

There is no tidy package for democracy, no ribbon and bow capable of containing our complexities, contradictions, and struggles. It is through dialogue, mutual respect, persuasion, and listening that we must find our way forward. But all of that is predicated on having a democracy sturdy enough from which to build. Our challenge is to ensure that survives while also not losing sight of what is required of us once it does.