Editorial: Truth Takes Time

Editorial Column by Danielle McCulley  

Working as an editor without a journalism degree has given me a perspective that feels worth  sharing.  

I didn’t come into this profession through a traditional path. There’s no journalism degree on my  wall, unless you count a lifelong Ph.D. in asking “why?” My family would tell you that “why” has always  been one of my favorite words. Not because I was nosy (well… maybe a little), but because I genuinely  wanted to understand things from every angle. Why does it work that way? WHO decided that? What  perspective might be missing? Is there another way that can also be right? I drove my mom nuts at  times:)  

I came into this role through community— by showing up, talking with trusted and  knowledgeable “experts,” listening closely and asking A LOT of questions. I’ve always wanted to  understand not just what is happening, but why it’s happening. And that outsider vantage point has  taught me something simple: truth takes time.  

Getting close to it requires discernment, observation, listening, verification and patience. Real  answers rarely arrive in the first hour… or even the first week. When conclusions form too quickly, they  are often reactions, not understanding. Over time, I’ve noticed a pattern: speed distorts clarity. The faster  we demand certainty, the less room there is for process. When we rush to fill silence, judgment usually  fills it first, and once judgment takes root, it is hard to uproot— even when facts later shift the  landscape.  

Opinion travels faster than truth. Engagement rewards confidence, not accuracy. “We don’t  know yet” doesn’t trend, but it is often the most responsible answer available. The moment blame enters  a conversation, curiosity leaves it, and the focus shifts from discovering what happened to defending  positions.  

We are not just observers, we are participants. Media, leaders and the public all play a role in  what gets amplified. What we consume, what we share and how we react directly shapes the  environment we live in. Attention is not neutral. It is fuel.  

I’ve seen this firsthand at the local level. When time is allowed— when systems are permitted to  work and facts are given space to surface— clarity eventually comes. It may not be dramatic, but it is  steady. If truth can be complex and difficult to sort through on a local level, how can we reasonably  accept instant certainty at a national one?  

History shows what happens when societies choose speed over discernment. Urgency can be  necessary. Manufactured urgency bypasses thinking and moves straight to reaction. And reaction is  easy to monetize. Discernment is not.  

I feel the most radical thing we can do right now is slow down. Think longer. Reflect before  reacting. Strengthen the vessel before responding to the noise. What we consume, we fuel.  If you don’t know where to start, start small. Color a picture. Journal. Play a game of chess.  Read something longer than a headline. Have a conversation without trying to win it. Find joy in  something close.  

The health of our public discourse doesn’t begin in Washington. It begins in living rooms, in  communities, in how we choose to respond when something unsettles us. Our children are watching  how we handle disagreement. They are learning whether speed or discernment wins. Truth takes time.  The question is whether we are willing to give it that time.  

Our children’s future depends on it.