In seeking truth you have to get both sides of a story.

“In seeking truth you have to get both sides of a story.” Thus declared Walter Cronkite, the trusted voice of news in the twentieth century, a man who bore the heavy burden of delivering reality to millions. His words shine with the wisdom of ages, for he reminds us that truth is rarely found in the echo of a single voice. It must be sought with patience, through the clash of perspectives, through the balance of differing accounts. For the world is vast, and every man sees but a fragment. To know the whole, we must gather the fragments together.

The ancients themselves understood this. Solomon, the wise king of Israel, once faced two women who both claimed to be the mother of the same child. Each side told her story with conviction. Had Solomon listened to only one, he might have been deceived. But by weighing both sides—by hearing the cries and testing the hearts—he uncovered the truth. The wisdom of Solomon lies hidden in Cronkite’s words: that no matter how convincing one account may sound, justice demands that the other must also be heard.

History shows us the danger of ignoring this principle. In the frenzy of war, nations often hear only their own side of the story. During the First World War, governments filled the air with propaganda, each claiming divine justice for their cause. Citizens, hearing only one side, marched gladly into carnage. The truth was buried beneath the cries of patriotism. But those who looked beyond their borders, who dared to hear the voice of the “enemy,” began to see the fuller story: that suffering was shared on all sides, that the humanity of the other was not erased by war. Thus Cronkite, as a journalist, stood in the tradition of those who seek not just the loudest voice but the whole chorus of reality.

Consider also the trial of Socrates. The Athenians condemned him for corrupting the youth and dishonoring the gods. If one had listened only to the voices of his accusers, Socrates would be remembered as a corrupter. But because we also hear his defense, his calm voice in Plato’s Apology, the truth shines brighter: that he sought not corruption but wisdom, not destruction but virtue. Both sides must be weighed before judgment is made, for truth cannot be imprisoned in one testimony.

Cronkite’s words also teach us humility. Each of us believes we see clearly, yet our vision is narrow. One person’s truth may be colored by pain, another’s by pride, another’s by fear. But when these voices meet—when they are tested, compared, and refined—the deeper truth emerges, like gold purified in fire. This is not to say that all perspectives are equal, but that even error has value, for by confronting it, we come closer to what is real.

Therefore, children of the future, let this be your practice: when you hear a story, seek also its other side. When you are told of another’s fault, listen also to their defense. When nations quarrel, seek to understand not only the cry of your own people but also the cry of those across the sea. In this way, your judgment will be steady, your wisdom deep, your justice true.

And remember: truth is not a weapon to strike down one side, but a light to illuminate both. Only by gathering the whole, by listening before condemning, by seeking patiently rather than judging hastily, can we live in accordance with the eternal. Cronkite’s voice still speaks to us: if you would seek truth, do not be content with one story. Hear both, weigh both, and in the space between them, you will find the clarity that endures.