The courage in journalism is sticking up for the unpopular, not

“The courage in journalism is sticking up for the unpopular, not the popular.” Thus declared Geraldo Rivera, a man who walked the uncertain border between truth and danger, between public favor and moral duty. In this brief yet thunderous saying, he unveils the sacred heart of all true reporting: that courage does not consist in echoing the multitude, but in defending the voiceless, the scorned, and the forgotten. The journalist, like the prophet of old, is not called to flatter kings but to speak truth in their courts; not to please the crowd, but to awaken its conscience.

Rivera, in these words, calls back to the original purpose of the press — to be the watchman of the people, the light in the city’s shadow. In an age where opinion sways like grass before the wind, he reminds us that courage is not measured by applause, but by integrity. To stick up for the unpopular requires not just boldness, but sacrifice. It means standing in defense of those whom society condemns, questioning those whom society praises, and bearing the weight of isolation that follows all who dare to challenge the tide.

Consider the example of Ida B. Wells, the African American journalist who, in the late 19th century, exposed the brutal horror of lynching in the United States. Her words ignited rage among the powerful and hatred among the masses. Her printing press was destroyed, her life threatened, her name defamed — yet she did not cease. She said, “The way to right wrongs is to turn the light of truth upon them.” That is the courage of journalism: not to write what is safe, but what is right. Wells stood for the unpopular, and through her steadfastness, history now stands with her.

The popular, after all, does not need defenders. It is already upheld by the multitude, celebrated by the voices of comfort. But the unpopular — the condemned, the silenced, the unseen — cry out for champions. It takes courage to stand beside them, for to do so is to risk one’s reputation, one’s livelihood, and sometimes one’s life. Yet, it is in that risk that journalism finds its nobility. The reporter who fears disfavor more than falsehood has already surrendered his craft. The true journalist must love truth more than safety, and justice more than praise.

History is filled with those who understood this sacred duty. When Edward R. Murrow spoke against the tyranny of McCarthyism, he knew he was confronting a storm. The nation trembled with fear, and the senator he defied held the power to destroy reputations with a word. Yet Murrow stood firm, declaring, “We cannot defend freedom abroad by deserting it at home.” His broadcast was not popular — but it was righteous. In that act, he embodied Rivera’s wisdom: courage in journalism is to stand for truth when truth is costly.

But let us not think this lesson belongs only to those behind the camera or the pen. For each of us, in our own sphere, becomes a kind of journalist — witness to the world, keeper of conscience, teller of truth. The temptation to seek approval is strong in every heart. Yet, to live rightly, we too must learn to stick up for the unpopular — for justice when it is mocked, for mercy when it is despised, for truth when it is inconvenient. To remain silent in the face of wrong is to join the chorus of cowardice.

Therefore, my children, remember this: popularity is not virtue, and silence is not peace. If you would walk the path of integrity, speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. Defend the one who stands alone. Question the comfortable lie, even when the world clings to it. Let your words be tempered by compassion, your actions guided by truth, and your spirit anchored in courage. For it is better to stand in righteous solitude than to kneel in the company of the deceitful.

And so let these words of Geraldo Rivera burn within your spirit: “The courage in journalism is sticking up for the unpopular, not the popular.” This is not only a charge to the reporter, but to the human soul. Seek truth, even when it stings. Defend justice, even when it isolates. For the measure of courage is not found in the crowd that follows you, but in the conscience that guides you — and he who stands for truth, though alone, stands taller than a thousand who bow to fear.