I AM WRITING THIS OPINIONATED POST with no apologies. As an American woman with a college degree in mass communications (news/editorial emphasis) and experience as a newspaper reporter, I’ve always felt strongly about a free press. Even more so today with threats to that freedom. If you are unaware of current actions against the press, research and read. A free press is a vital part of democracy.
Journalists serve, among other roles, as government watchdogs. That means they, ideally, provide accurate and balanced reporting on government, at all levels. The “fourth estate” holds the government accountable via the stories they write. Not agenda-driven stories shaped by a biased editorial perspective or by information spoon fed to them by a press secretary. But rather stories based on quotes, actions, interviews, facts. Good solid reporting. Not misinformation, disinformation and/or propaganda. I must, though, state the obvious here. Not all sources speak truth to the media. And not all media write truth.
Suppression and criticism of the press are nothing new. Some of the criticism is deserved. Much of it is not. You may like journalists or you may not. That’s not the point. The point is that we need a free press, one unsuppressed/uncensored by those who are in positions of power. If you think otherwise, then look to history and to countries under authoritarian leaders, dictators. Under those leaders, messaging is/has been carefully controlled. Manipulation, intimidation and absolute power rule.
During my journalism career, I have not been immune to those who wanted to control what I wrote. They did that sometimes in a back door way via criticizing me and my work and/or by shutting me out. Thankfully, my editors always had my back.
Let me give you some examples. While covering a school board meeting for a small town southern Minnesota weekly, a teacher said some things that were controversial. Decades out, I can’t recall details. But I do remember how this teacher fumed about my quoting him in a news story. The quote did not reflect favorably on him. But he made the statement at a public meeting. And it needed to be reported. Readers could decide what they thought of his comments.
In that same community, a local realtor called me out for quoting him in a story about a city council meeting. Again, I don’t remember details. But he was absolutely irate and verbally attacked and bullied me for what I’d written. (Sound familiar? Bullying. Fake news.) My reporting was accurate. I was not about to cave to his pressure. Once again, my editor stood up for me. He knew I demanded the best of myself in my work and that I would settle for nothing less than fair and accurate reporting.
Flash ahead to a different small town where I, once again, found myself despised. This time by a school superintendent. He didn’t like that I covered a student walk-out. It happened. I observed, interviewed him and students. And he retaliated. Every time I attended a school board meeting, he refused to give me an agenda or the packet of information distributed to board members and to the editor of the local weekly newspaper. (I worked for a regional daily.) He refused to talk to me. He made no effort to hide his disdain or to make information accessible to me. His was clearly an effort to stop me from reporting on anything school related, including school board meetings. His strategy did not work.
Attacks on journalists have become more rabid in recent years. I think we can all agree on that. Don’t kill the messenger for the message he/she delivers. Respect those journalists who truly are doing their best to report fairly and accurately and who hold themselves and their work to high standards. Turn to those reliable sources for news.
Certainly, some media outlets and journalists are incredibly biased with specific agendas. They have become mouthpieces for government leaders, political parties and issues. I’m not praising those who are manipulating people to shape public opinion and to push ideas. Unfortunately, though, I see more and more government leaders, politicians and others targeting dedicated-to-the-craft journalists. These hardworking reporters are being shut out, degraded and abused because they accurately report what they see and hear in their watchdog role. Kinda like me with that small town school superintendent decades ago, just a lot more amplified and with much more serious consequences.
Thankfully, plenty of journalists committed to writing the truth still remain. They are strong men and women of integrity and morals who give a damn about democracy and a free press. Now, more than ever, we need to recognize the value of a free press, underscore FREE. Even though I no longer work as a newspaper journalist, I still strongly value freedom of the press. It is, always has been, a cornerstone of democracy.
FYI: I encourage you to read Chasing Hope—A Reporter’s Life by Nicholas D. Kristof, currently an op-ed columnist for The New York Times. The two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist worked as a foreign correspondent in Hong Kong, Beijing and Tokyo. He witnessed some pretty horrible atrocities—including the massacre in Tiananmen Square, the genocide in Darfur and much more—and offers remarkable insights via his experiences, observations and exceptional storytelling.
Of special note in Kristof’s book is a reference to an August 2008 campaign rally in Lakeville, Minnesota, which the author calls “one of the finest moments in American politics in my lifetime.” Kristof shares a story about Senator John McCain, who was then vying for the Republican Presidential nomination. I refer you to pages 239 and 240 in Chasing Hope. This book is worth the read for that story alone. It will give you hope. And, no, I’m not telling you more. Read the book.
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
In which I protest, grieve & reflect June 19, 2025
Tags: America, assassination, commentary, government, grief, June 14, Minnesota, mural, news, NO KINGS protest, Northfield, protest, protest signs, reflections, Rep. Melissa Hortman, Sen. John Hoffman, thoughts, United States
I LEANED MY HEAD against Randy’s shoulder, my left hand gripping the rod of a protest sign and a small American flag. I felt such profound sadness in that moment. The moment when a pastor asked for a period of silence in honor of Minnesota State Representative/House Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, assassinated in their home during the early morning hours of June 14.
Flag Day. Nationwide NO KINGS protest day. A day of gathering turned tragic here in Minnesota.
I alternated between leaning into my husband and leaning my bowed head against the bottom of my NO MORE KINGS protest poster held high, the sign with the cursive words, “I value freedom,” scrawled on the back side. The wind blew, swept my hair across my face like a veil covering sadness. The heaviness felt palpable here, in Ames Park in Northfield, along the banks of the Cannon River. But so did the energy.
We were a group of hundreds—maybe even a thousand (I’m not good at estimating crowd size)—gathered to publicly express our concerns about leadership in this country, about decisions being made that negatively affect all of us, about the state of and future of our democracy… It was my first protest. Ever. I wanted, needed, to be here. To remain silent seems complicit.
I’d already arrived when a friend texted that Minnesotans had been advised by state law enforcement not to attend NO KINGS protests. That warning linked to the suspect in the shootings of the Hortmans and of State Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette. We would later learn that NO KINGS fliers were found in the vehicle of Vance Boelter, now accused in the double murders and attempted murders.
That explained why, on the way to the riverside protest, I overheard a woman telling a couple that her police officer son had advised her not to participate in the rally. She was going home. I was not. Nor were any of the others converging on Ames Park at noon. I wasn’t scared. Vested safety people, trained in conflict resolution and de-escalation, were in place. I felt safe in the masses, which, I suppose, is an unrealistic perspective. But I refuse to be silenced by fear, by the words and actions of those who attempt to suppress voices. And intimidate.
And there were those, including the drivers of a white pickup truck and of motorcycles which repeatedly roared past the rally site, spewing their opposition in noise and in political flags bannering messages I won’t repeat. But they, too, have a right to protest. Peacefully. Just as I do. And I wrote that on the back of a second sign: FREE to PROTEST. But, mostly, passing vehicles honked in strong support.
At this rally of people opposing the current administration and its policies and actions, I felt a unity of purpose and a deep, cohesive concern for the future of our country. I felt uplifted, embraced, empowered. Speakers spoke (although I couldn’t hear most). The pastor led us in prayer. We sang—”The Star Spangled Banner” and “We shall overcome.” We cheered. We chanted. We waved our posters and flags. And a group held an over-sized American flag, which I couldn’t see from my vantage point deep in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
We were mostly an older group. Baby Boomers. Grandparents. Even octogenarians. Perhaps some protested during the Vietnam War. Or served this country. We’ve lived a few years, enough decades to understand that we need to rise up against authoritarianism. Enough to understand what’s at stake. But there were some young people, too, like the dad behind me with his preschool daughter playing in the grass. He clearly cares, if not for himself, but then for his child.
The morning after the NO KINGS protest, I left for Madison, Wisconsin, to spend time with my 5-month-old grandson (and his parents). As I snuggled Everett, I thought, he (and my other two grandchildren) are part of the reason I chose to protest. Their lives stretch before them. I want them to live in a country where they are free. Free. I want them to live under a government based on a three-pronged system of checks and balances, not one ruled by a king or some version of a king or dictator. I want them to live in a kind, caring and compassionate country. Not a selfish, uncaring, divisive nation filled with hatred.
I returned to Minnesota yesterday and am catching up on laundry and writing. And, along with my fellow Minnesotans, I’m collectively grieving the assassination of an elected official and her husband. And I’m thinking, this is what it’s come to in Amercia…
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling