Rex Smith

“Freedom is a fragile thing, and it’s never more than one generation away from extinction.”

There’s a silly Monty Python sketch from a half-century ago that some of you surely remember, and it spawned an enduring meme — though we didn’t have that name for it then. In the scene, a hapless character who is annoyed about being asked a lot of baffling questions complains, “I didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition,” at which point a trio of red-caped cardinals bursts into the room, with one exclaiming, “No-o-o-body expects the Spanish Inquisition!”

Lately I’ve been noticing how many English words are portmanteaus – that is, words created by joining parts of two other words. You know, like “brunch,” which is a smooshing together of breakfast and lunch, or “blog,” which was created from “web” and “log.” There’s a lot of this in America: We get “sporks” at fast-food joints, and we go home to sit next to our “labradoodle” and multi-task by browsing our “email” while watching a “sitcom” or a “romcom” or maybe a “bromance.”

Those of us who work in journalism understand that when we tell people that we’re worried about what the Trump administration is doing to press freedom -- and particularly about the threat of changes to libel law -- we might sound like just another interest group pleading for our own privileges. Here in Albany, where I’m speaking just now, we see a lot of that, after all.

In this commentary last week, we discussed some notions of how to maintain our mental health in turbulent times for America. Not that I’m a psychologist, mind you – I’m just a journalist, who has come across some research that I consider worth passing along.

Being a guy, you know, I assumed for a long time that I was supposed to be able to fix things. For years, this led to lots of disappointment, especially early in our marriage, before my wife figured out that my skill set was limited to – well, punctuation, I guess. It took me longer than most folks to understand that it’s OK to not even try to be the fix-it guy – and that sometimes folks just want you to listen and care, not to tell them what to do. People are less eager to be confronted with an agenda than to be comforted with understanding, I finally learned.

I was always impressed with the many titles of Haile Selassie, who was the Emperor of Ethiopia for 45 years starting in 1930. I mean, he ruled! After all, who could withstand the power of a guy known as “Keeper of the Door,” and “King of Kings” and, especially, “Lion of the Tribe of Judah, His Imperial Majesty.” That’s a seriously fine job title.

I didn’t grow up in a wealthy family, and I mean no disrespect to those who did when I say that the qualities that matter in people – that is, the lessons that we hope our kids absorb – have nothing to do with earning power. People can get rich even if they are foolish or immoral or ignorant.

Some folks may assert that 70 is the new 50, but I’m a bit more of a realist than that, and so I’ll tell you that I’m an older guy who started practicing journalism more than a half-century ago – which means that I remember when network newscasts were the way most Americans got their news, and how sober and straightforward all that reporting seemed.

We all support free speech – or say we do, anyway. A poll last year found that 93 percent of Americans consider the First Amendment vital. But what do we think about misinformation and intentional disinformation – which now runs rampant, especially on social media, with potentially deadly consequences? What happens when our right to free speech runs smack up against lies that can put people and whole nations at risk, and that can alter history?