Thank God for our form of government. The media won't let there

In the long annals of freedom, where nations have risen and fallen upon the strength of their honesty, there stands a truth both simple and sacred. John McCain, warrior and statesman, spoke it with the clarity of a man who had seen both the shadow and the light of power: “Thank God for our form of government. The media won’t let there be any cover-up.” These words are not the boast of the powerful, but the gratitude of one who understood that the truest strength of democracy lies not in the sword, nor in the treasury, but in the truth—and in the guardians who keep that truth from being buried.

In the old kingdoms of men, rulers cloaked their deeds in silence. The will of the monarch was the law, and what was hidden from the people was forgotten by history. But in the Republic—this fragile miracle born from liberty and accountability—there exists a covenant: that no man, however mighty, stands above scrutiny. McCain’s words speak to that covenant. He gives thanks not merely for a government of laws, but for a nation in which the voice of the people, carried by the press, can pierce through secrecy like light through mist. For where the press is free, deceit cannot long take root; where it is silenced, tyranny begins to whisper.

To understand this, one must look to the fires of history. Recall the Watergate scandal, when dark hands sought to shroud corruption in silence. Yet it was not armies that uncovered the truth—it was journalists, armed only with pens and courage, who brought the facts into daylight. The nation trembled, the powerful fell, and though the wound was deep, the Republic endured. Why? Because truth, though painful, cleanses; and lies, though comforting, corrupt. It was this eternal balance that McCain honored: that a government bound by free inquiry may be wounded by revelation, but it is destroyed only by silence.

McCain, himself a man tested in the crucible of captivity and the rigors of politics, knew that power tempts concealment. The form of government he praised—the American democracy—was designed with wisdom older than any constitution. It was born from the insight that human nature, unrestrained, bends toward self-interest. Thus, the founders built a system where power watches power, where no man’s word is final, and where the press serves as the restless conscience of the state. The ancients would have called this the “balance of the polis”—the principle that truth must dwell not only in law, but in the hearts and voices of the people.

Yet his gratitude was not blind. McCain, who often clashed with reporters, also respected them as necessary adversaries, for he knew that criticism is the crucible of integrity. As fire tests gold, so does the scrutiny of the press test the virtue of leadership. To serve in a free republic is to live beneath the gaze of the many—to answer not only to authority, but to the judgment of citizens who have the right to question, to doubt, to demand. Only the weak fear such exposure; the strong, like McCain, give thanks for it. For a leader purified by truth stands taller than one sheltered by deceit.

Let us remember, too, the ancient parable of the philosopher-king who sought wisdom in the marketplace. When asked why he, a ruler, would lower himself to hear the people, he answered, “Because even the smallest voice may carry the echo of truth.” So it is with the media in a democracy. Its task is not to flatter the mighty, but to question them; not to worship the state, but to guard the soul of the nation from corruption. A free press is not the enemy of government—it is its conscience, its mirror, its unyielding reminder that power must answer to the truth it serves.

Therefore, my children of liberty, cherish what McCain gave thanks for. Guard the freedom of the press as you would guard your own breath, for without it, the Republic withers into secrecy and decay. Do not curse the voice that criticizes; listen, weigh, and discern. Support leaders who welcome truth, not those who flee from it. Speak honestly, even when it wounds pride, for truth alone heals the nation’s heart.

And above all, remember this teaching: gratitude for accountability is the mark of a free soul. When leaders can say, as John McCain did, “Thank God the truth cannot be hidden,” then liberty yet lives. For the day the powerful no longer fear the light of truth is the day freedom itself fades into shadow. Let us then live as keepers of that light—ever questioning, ever seeking, ever thankful that no lie can stand forever in a nation that still honors the power of truth.