Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

The murder of Charlie Kirk introduced another generation of Americans to ideological violence. On September 10, I had to explain to my young daughter that a person was shot and killed because someone didn’t like what they said. She didn’t understand.

Frankly, I don’t either.

As a broadcaster, I struggle to comprehend seeing fellow citizens celebrating such violence. We must ask ourselves: Why have so many bought into selective narratives that only show us the worst of whatever side of the story the algorithm wants us to see? John Mayer’s lyrics ring true: “When they own the information, they can bend it all they want.”

I’m grateful to live in a Constitutional Republic where our rights are guaranteed, including our right to freedom of speech. But the right to free speech does not protect us from the consequences of our speech, as several individuals have found out who were subsequently fired from their positions, including media professionals who temporarily made headlines in the wake of controversial posts and comments.

Murder is murder, and ending anyone’s life for political reasons is wrong. To publicly call for the demise of one’s opponent is contrary to our founding principles. The Declaration of Independence states that all are created with certain unalienable rights, and among those rights is life.

The vitriol from all sides that is often amplified in media (yes, including radio) is one reason why many in our audience have tuned out. As media professionals, we must recognize our role in either bridging or deepening these divides.

Honest people don’t fear questions or the truth. Good journalism thrives on facts, not emotion. Yet too often, our industry has prioritized engagement over enlightenment, clicks over community.

It was the exceedingly wise Fred Rogers who first asked, “Won’t you be my neighbor?” But what I’ve realized in researching this piece is that the question all of us, especially those of us in broadcasting, need to ask ourselves is, “Am I a neighbor?”

The moment we see the person across the street (or on the other side of the speakers) as Bob, or Carol, or Ted, or Alice, and not as a representative of a political position, is when we become neighbors. The moment we’re there to serve our community, regardless of where they worship or how they voted, then we fulfill our calling as broadcasters.

As media professionals, we have a unique responsibility. Let’s turn off the rhetoric of the algorithm that attempts to force-feed our audiences a diet of division. Instead, let’s focus on facilitating conversations of understanding with those in our communities – starting with how we frame stories, choose guests, and present information.

The more we shine the light of truth grounded in facts rather than emotion, the easier it’ll be to serve as true neighbors to our audiences.

Our industry stands at a crossroads. We can continue to amplify division for ratings, or we can remember that broadcasting’s highest calling is to inform, educate, and unite communities.

Bottom Line: A bond built on unity and trust is stronger than the divisive rhetoric that thrives in the absence of responsible journalism. As broadcasters, we don’t just report on whether people are neighbors: we help create the conditions that make neighboring possible.