There's a perennial debate about whether the propagandistic tripe

“There’s a perennial debate about whether the propagandistic tripe produced by establishment media outlets is shaped more by evil or by stupidity. Personally, I think it’s both: a healthy dose of each is needed. The system design is malicious, while those who serve as its public face are generally vacant.” – Glenn Greenwald

In these scathing and illuminating words, Glenn Greenwald, the fearless journalist and defender of truth, unmasks the corrupt machinery of modern information. His words burn like a torch against the darkness, revealing the uneasy marriage between malice and ignorance that governs much of the media establishment. Greenwald speaks as one who has walked through the halls of power and seen the hidden gears that turn behind smiling faces and polished headlines. His message is not merely an accusation against individual corruption, but a revelation of a deeper, systemic rot — that the structure itself is designed to deceive, while those who operate within it often do not even know the extent of their servitude. It is a tragedy both moral and intellectual: a malicious system run by empty souls.

The origin of this quote lies in Greenwald’s long struggle with mainstream journalism — his exposure of state secrets, his defense of whistleblowers, and his criticism of corporate media’s complicity with governments and elites. Having reported on the NSA surveillance revelations alongside Edward Snowden, Greenwald saw firsthand how truth is distorted, how facts are bent to fit the narrative of power. His words arise from this battlefield — a world where information is not a tool of enlightenment, but a weapon of control. When he speaks of “propagandistic tripe,” he refers to the endless stream of half-truths, omissions, and performative outrage that fill the airwaves — crafted not to inform, but to manipulate.

To understand Greenwald’s meaning, one must first grasp his distinction between systemic evil and individual stupidity. The “system design is malicious,” he says — meaning that the architecture of modern media, owned by conglomerates, sustained by political interests, and addicted to profit, is constructed to serve the powerful. Yet, those who serve it — the news anchors, commentators, and correspondents — are not always villains. They are, in his words, “vacant”: empty of critical thought, too comfortable to question, too eager for approval to resist. Their complicity is not born of wickedness alone, but of intellectual laziness, of a spirit dulled by conformity. Thus, the machine runs smoothly: evil provides the blueprint, and stupidity keeps it functioning.

This fusion of malice and ignorance has haunted humanity throughout history. In the days of the Roman Empire, emperors like Nero and Domitian controlled the people through spectacle and falsehood, while their courtiers and scribes — men of learning and culture — lent their pens to tyranny. They wrote praises to cruelty, treating propaganda as truth. Yet many of them, like the media figures Greenwald describes, believed themselves noble. They were not monsters; they were vacant instruments of an evil design. So it was again in later ages — when inquisitors burned books in the name of faith, and bureaucrats stamped orders that extinguished lives. In every era, systems of deceit thrive when intelligence is divorced from conscience.

The danger Greenwald names is not confined to governments or newsrooms. It is a sickness of civilization itself — the surrender of thought to structure. When he says that the system design is malicious, he warns that institutions built on falsehood will inevitably breed ignorance. And when he calls those who serve it “vacant,” he mourns how easily good people can become servants of lies simply by refusing to think deeply or act bravely. The union of malice and mediocrity is perhaps the most dangerous force in the world — for pure evil is rare, but mindless obedience is common. Together, they forge a tyranny far subtler than swords or prisons: the tyranny of the narrative, the empire of illusion.

Consider the story of Socrates, who in ancient Athens stood against such a system of deceit. The city that claimed to honor truth condemned him for questioning the convenient lies of its leaders. The masses, stirred by rhetoric and manipulated by pride, silenced their wisest man. Socrates, though poor and powerless, saw what Greenwald sees: that a society which refuses to think becomes the willing accomplice of its own oppressors. “The unexamined life,” he said, “is not worth living.” And in Greenwald’s age, as in Socrates’, the unexamined belief is not worth broadcasting.

So, my child of conscience and reason, take this lesson as armor: beware both evil and emptiness. Do not assume that the falsehoods of the world are crafted only by villains; often they are maintained by those who do not think. Seek truth not from institutions, but through inquiry, reflection, and courage. Do not become one of the “vacant faces” that repeat what others say without question. Every age needs its questioners, its rebels of the mind, its guardians of reality.

For in the end, as Greenwald teaches, truth perishes not only by the malice of the few, but by the apathy of the many. The system may be malicious, but it cannot survive without servants who think too little. Therefore, think deeply. Speak honestly. Refuse to conform where conscience demands resistance. Let your mind be a sword against deception, and your words a light against the darkness. For only when courage and thought walk together can humanity be free from both evil and stupidity, and the world begin to remember what truth truly is.