Monday afternoon, I was listening to people in the media explain democracy to me.

Again.

CNN, MS NOW and Politico have been barred from the White House, the television networks have suspended their presidential pool coverage in protest, and the three banned organizations have gone to court.

Former President Barack Obama weighed in. Jim Acosta weighed in. Everybody suddenly sounded like they had slept overnight with a pocket Constitution under their pillow.

Democracy!

The First Amendment!

Freedom of the press!

And as I listened to all of this righteous indignation, one name kept coming into my mind.

Rush Limbaugh.

Because I remember when the people who now want to give us lectures about protecting unpopular voices weren’t terribly interested in protecting his.

Rush didn’t have a White House press credential. He didn’t need one.

He had a microphone.

And millions of Americans listened to that microphone every day.

That was the problem.

Rush didn’t require permission from the New York Times. He didn’t need a seat in the briefing room. He didn’t need CNN to put him on a panel so five other people could interrupt him.

Every day at noon, he went directly to the American people.

And Washington knew it.

Barack Obama certainly knew it.

Just days after taking office in 2009, Obama met with Republican congressional leaders at the White House and told them, “You can’t just listen to Rush Limbaugh and get things done.”

Think about that for a moment.

A newly inaugurated president of the United States was telling members of the opposition party that Rush Limbaugh was somebody they shouldn’t be listening to.

Rush’s response was vintage Rush. If the president was more worried about a guy behind a radio microphone than the Republicans on Capitol Hill, Rush figured that said something about both of them.

He was right.

That’s why I found Monday’s media performance so fascinating.

Jim Acosta was urging the press corps to stop covering the White House altogether. Stop the pool. Stop the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. Everybody stand together.

I almost expected somebody to start passing out candles.

And Acosta complained that one network now has somebody connected to Trump appearing regularly.

Excuse me?

Have these people met George Stephanopoulos?

Before becoming one of ABC News’ most recognizable journalists, Stephanopoulos was a senior adviser in the Clinton White House.

Jen Psaki went directly from serving as President Biden’s White House press secretary to becoming an MSNBC host.

Tim Russert, whom I admired tremendously, worked for Democratic Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan and New York Gov. Mario Cuomo before becoming one of the most respected journalists in television.

This revolving door between politics and media isn’t exactly a secret passage somebody discovered behind a bookcase last Thursday. It’s been there for decades.

That’s why the sudden horror over political influence in media rings a little hollow to me. None of this means I believe presidents should be immune from tough reporting.

Quite the opposite. Reporters should be tough. They should annoy presidents. They should dig.

They should ask questions administrations don’t want answered. And if you’re going to defend that principle, defend the principle. Not merely the people you like.

That’s what bothers me about this whole spectacle.

Too many people in American media seem to discover principles precisely when those principles become useful to them.

Free speech when their speech is threatened. Dangerous rhetoric when the other guy says it. Political influence when somebody from the other party gets a television contract.

And now press freedom when their own access is on the line.

Rush lived through the other version.

People tried boycotts. Advertisers were pressured. Politicians complained about him.

There were repeated political efforts aimed at talk radio and the enormous influence it had acquired outside the traditional media gatekeepers.

Rush kept broadcasting.

And here is the part that matters today. AM radio is still here.

In fact, just last week the House passed legislation requiring new vehicles to retain access to AM radio, and the bill is now before the Senate.

There’s something wonderfully appropriate about that. Because for all the predictions that talk radio was finished, obsolete, dying or somehow too dangerous to tolerate, people still turn the dial.

They still listen. They still decide for themselves whom they believe.

That was Rush’s real offense. He couldn’t be gatekept. You couldn’t stop Americans from hearing him by keeping him outside the White House fence. You couldn’t stop him by refusing to invite him onto Sunday television.

He had something much more powerful than a press credential.

He had an audience.

So when I hear lectures today about democracy depending upon whether CNN gets its assigned camera position, forgive me if I don’t immediately reach for a black armband.

I remember what happened when the inconvenient voice belonged to somebody named Rush Limbaugh.

And I remember how much concern there was for protecting that voice then.

Funny how the First Amendment always seems to become more precious when it’s your microphone they’re threatening.

— Bo