March 3, 1923—back when people still read things on paper, Time magazine was born. It was like the Twitter of its day, except with full sentences and no billionaire man-children lighting the platform on fire. Time was the first weekly news magazine in America, designed to give people an overview of the world without forcing them to sit through long, boring speeches or decipher handwritten telegrams from their conspiracy-theorist uncles.
The first issue? It had Joseph G. Cannon on the cover—a retiring Speaker of the House. And if you don’t know who that is, congratulations! That means your brain hasn’t wasted valuable space on 1920s congressional drama. But back then, putting a politician on the cover of a magazine meant something. It meant you were informing the public. It meant journalism mattered.
Fast forward a hundred years, and journalism still matters—just not to the people in charge.
Because today, Time and the entire field of journalism aren’t just covering history—they’re under attack. And not like fake news attack. Not like “Oh, you fact-checked my obviously fake story and now I’m mad” attack. We’re talking real, government-endorsed, lawsuit-happy, authoritarian-style intimidation.
Take the FCC, for example. The Federal Communications Commission, led by a guy handpicked by—you guessed it—Donald Trump, is now investigating major news networks like NBC and CBS. Why? Because apparently, reporting things Trump doesn’t like is now a crime. It’s like if your boss fired you for showing up to work on time, just because he was planning to be late.
And speaking of control, let’s talk about the White House press pool. For decades, reporters from different outlets have rotated coverage, making sure no one network monopolized the narrative. But Trump’s new team? They decided, Nah, we got this. Now the White House is taking direct control of the press pool, which is a little like letting the wolf take direct control of the henhouse—or, in Trump’s case, letting the fox sue the henhouse for reporting he ate all the chickens.
But let’s not forget what’s happening to individual reporters. These days, working in journalism is like playing a video game on expert mode, except instead of digital enemies, it’s real-life people threatening to kill you for checks notes doing your job. The International Women’s Media Foundation reports that journalists—especially women—are facing more harassment, more violence, and more legal intimidation than ever. And in the U.S.? That’s not supposed to happen. The First Amendment exists so reporters can tell the truth without ending up in hiding like a disgraced reality TV star.
But here’s the really wild part: Some people love this. A recent survey found that a solid chunk of Americans—like, actual people with driver’s licenses and voting rights—think it’s totally fine for politicians to threaten journalists. Because apparently, “freedom of the press” now comes with an asterisk. Terms and conditions may apply. Offer not valid in autocracies or Trump rallies.
So here we are. One hundred years after Time launched with the noble goal of informing the public, our leaders are doing their best to make sure the only people allowed to report the news are the ones willing to lie about it.
And look, I get it. Nobody likes the media. Nobody wakes up and says, “You know what I love? A six-hour panel discussion where a guy with too much hair gel explains why a tweet might cause World War III.” But you know what’s worse than annoying news? No news. No watchdogs. No truth. Just a government-approved narrative that tells you everything is fine while your house is on fire.
So, happy birthday, Time! You made it this far, and now the battle for press freedom is just getting started. But if history has taught us anything, it’s that journalists don’t go down easy. They keep writing, keep reporting, and keep exposing the truth—whether those in power like it or not. And that, my friends, is time well spent.
