papers of the country, except a few labor and socialist papers, which have few readers outside their own particular clientele, represent the "upper class" point of view. Their presentation of that point of view may be interrupted now and then by the "human interests" of a story; as when the misery of strikers' families is played up, or some scandal affecting the employers. The desire to get a "beat," together with some measure of natural human sympathy, and all sorts of other motives, enter in. And of course there is no one homogeneous "upper class point of view"; there are all sorts of conflicting ideas, jealousies, disputes, all of them more or less represented in the press. But the underlying fact remains that year in and year out the daily press of the country reflects the point of view, the judgments and desires, of the wealthy class. Because of the power of the press, that general point of view has an influence upon affairs far out of proportion to the numbers or intellectual ability of this class.

Perhaps we think that this point of view of the wealthy class is the right point of view, and so rejoice in its grip upon the organs that form public opinion. But this is not the democratic ideal. That ideal was not the ideal of a class-government, but of a government by the people. The idea of a free press was the idea of a press that should freely represent the ideas of all classes of the people. It has become increasingly clear that this ideal cannot be attained merely by a laissez-faire policy on the part of the Government. Every one is free to publish a paper, if he chooses, and to say what he wills; the Government will not interfere except during a war, or while the war-psychology lasts. But it has become the case that to publish a paper requires a great deal of

capital; and it is impossible to make a paper financially successful if the great financial interests disapprove its policy. In the older sense, we have a "free press." But that sort of freedom is not enough. Practically, a great deal of opinion gets very inadequately represented in the press; a great many facts of importance are exaggerated, played up, colored, twisted, so that a false impression results. Most people who would like to get their facts before the public are not really free to do so, because they cannot afford to.

We must not suppose that there is any conspiracy here, or even a universal scramble for money, regardless of ideals. The "upper-class" people who run our newspapers are, for the most part, average human beings morally, as well as above the average intellectually. Many of them have personal ambitions, of one sort or other, to serve, and all of them are bound to make their papers pay a good return on the investment. But a very large part of the bias of their papers is the natural expression of sincere convictions on their part. A man who has a thousand shares of steel is likely to believe with all his heart that tradeunions are vicious, and that excess-profits-taxes are inexpedient. A strike even in a textile-mill in which he has no financial interest is apt to arouse his honest condemnation. We are all prejudiced, though we would all resent the accusation.

The radical press, the socialist and labor papers, are just as prejudiced as the more widely read dailies. Their prejudices are, indeed, more conscious and more obvious, and for that reason less subtly dangerous; they are avowedly partisan organs. In any case, their circle of readers is comparatively small. And if the big dailies were trustworthy venders of news,

their readers would be still fewer. The real problem, then, is with these big metropolitan newspapers which purport to be colorless media for the transmission of news but are actually controlled and colored by the policy of their upper-class owners.

What is wrong, let us repeat, about this class-control of the press is not that this particular class is worse than other classes. If the rich are, on the whole, over-complacent with things as they are, and over-callous to the wrongs of the poor, the poor, on their part, are apt to be bitter and unintelligent. No other class of people would run the papers better, perhaps. What is wrong is that any class should have such monopoly-control.

The harm done by our profit-seeking journalism is of many sorts. There is, for one thing, the sensationalism of the "yellow" press-the sickening succession of murders, suicides, divorces, scandals, crimes, and gossip with which the papers that cater to the less educated are filled. These stories appeal to deeprooted human intincts; and the strength of the instincts grows by feeding. It is not socially expedient that men and women, boys and girls, should live on this diet. But the papers that exploit all this human vice and passion sell well. It is very doubtful if a democratic control of journalism would tolerate this; a people that has voted to deny itself alcoholic drinks could rather easily be aroused to the moral harmfulness of this daily flaunting of the cruelty and sensuality in men. But while a few private owners have autocratic control of these yellow papers, we are helpless.

A far less obvious, but in the end perhaps more serious, evil is the constant reflection on the part of nearly all of our "respectable" papers, of the common

and accepted ideas of the time. A newspaper cannot hope to succeed, against well-established rivals, if it champions unpopular opinions. We are in desperate need of new ideas and ideals, or at least of new applications of old ideals. But to break away from established respectabilities would mean severe criticism; and newspapers can not afford to run that risk. They can choose between a Republican or Democratic policy; occasionally, when some great popular revolt takes place, such as the Populist or Progressive movements, they may swing with the tide. But in general they must cling to familiar and safe ideas. This means the stereotyping of opinion. It means an unfair advantage to the conservatives and stand-patters -and, consequently, the increase of unrest and underground revolutionary propaganda. If the American press were more hospitable to minority views, gave space to accounts of meetings and addresses representing the newer movments of thought, instead of, as is now commonly the case, either ignoring or misrepresenting and ridiculing them, we should be less in danger of mental stagnation among the upper classes, with class-consciousness and bitterness on the part of those who find it so difficult to get the ear of the public.

The respectable point of view, which the newspapers instinctively represent, usually rests upon some deep-rooted human instinct. For instance, the instinct of patriotism, together with the combative instinct, ensures the popularity of a paper which adopts a jingoistic tone. The responsibility for arousing a war-fever rests largely upon the shoulders of the newspaper-owners. If the war is, indeed, a necessary one, they can be thus of enormous service. But if the war would be an unnecessary and un

righteous one, there will still be many papers to rattle the sword and insist upon the satisfaction of our national honor. As this is written, a few of our dailies are apparently trying to stir up war with Mexico, with Japan, with Great Britain. Facts are twisted, or even invented outright; mere rumors are headlined, the country in question is pictured as seeking to outwit us, as infringing our rights, as preparing secretly for war with us. The worst sort of nationalistic spirit is thus kept inflamed; and statesmen who are trying to preserve amicable relations between our country and these others are seriously handicapped. What the owner's motive is, must be inferred. It may be a desire to further the value of his investments; it may be a knowledge that he could become a warprofiteer; it may be a desire to influence the stockmarket; it may be a mere desire to sell more papers by appealing to the wide-spread jingoistic instinct; it may be a native and honest truculence of temperament; it may be any one of a number of other things. Whatever the motive, or combination of motives, this power which a few men have of inciting popular passions is extremely dangerous.

Of course American newspapers have been strongly opposed, as the American people have been, to the Soviet Government in Russia. The constant stream of editorial comment on Russia has naturally, and legitimately, been unfavorable-though, even here, justice and the ideal of free speech demand that those who have something good to report, or some plea for approval to make, with regard to this or any other movement, should have ample opportunity to do so. But the fact is that the press in general has done more than oppose that movement editorially, it has persistently misrepresented the facts. Ever since the first