There are a few things I hear about in the news.

The digital revolution has changed everything. Newspapers are dying. The media is a propaganda machine. Or, my favorite, from the movie “Anchorman 2”:

 “What if we show a porno instead of the news?” said Paul Rudd’s character, Brian Fantana.

And, of course, there’s the winning idea from Will Ferrell’s character:

“I just don’t know why we have to tell the people what they need to hear,” Ron Burgandy said. “Why can’t we just tell them what they want to hear?”

Is journalism even relevant anymore?

I’m studying strategic communication at Wichita State’s Elliott School of Communication, but up until two years ago, I was majoring in journalism.

I am a nontraditional student. My dad was a Vietnam era vet, and I grew up keenly aware of the role of journalists in wartime. I’ve always been a fan of legendary war reporter Homer Bigart, a “reporter’s reporter” and winner of two Pulitzer Prizes, whose skeptical eye and lean prose cut through government propaganda to tell the real story of Vietnam.

Bigart’s work set a high standard for fact-checking, but his wisdom hasn’t exactly lasted through the ages. Still, for a long time I clung to my belief in the ideal of journalistic integrity.

According to the Hutchins Commission, which was convened during WWII to determine the proper function of the media in a democratic society, it is the ethical duty of the press to provide objective reporting so as to give “a truthful, comprehensive, and intelligent account of the day’s events in a context which gives them meaning;” provide “a forum for the exchange of comment and criticism;” display “a representative picture of the constituent groups in the society;” to clearly “present the goals and values of the society”; and to provide the public with “full access to the day’s intelligence.”

Today, instead of Homer Bigart, Woodward and Bernstein, Helen Thomas and even Benjamin Franklin (yes, he was also a journalist), we have been inundated by talking-heads and their endless speculative commentaries, citizen-journalists with iPhones, whose facts never seem to be verified, and 140-character news briefs that provide no context whatsoever.

Personally, I blame Brian Williams.

Seriously though, if the ideals of journalism are a reflection of the American ideal of democracy, what ideal does today’s media reflect?

Yes, I’ve been disillusioned with the romantic notion of journalistic integrity for some time now — as I said, I switched majors. Recently however, in the wake of a torrent of memes and reports that Williams’ helicopter wasn’t really shot down over Iraq, that he didn’t actually go into Baghdad with SEAL Team 6 and that he did not, in fact, bow up the Death Star, I came across a news story that made me reconsider.

On Feb. 9, author and acclaimed science writer Charles Seife, professor of journalism at NYU, published a report that revealed evidence of extensive fraud at the Food and Drug Administration. The report hasn’t quite grabbed the attention of mainstream media, but this is a big deal, and the best part is that the report was a joint effort between Seife and his journalism class.

I’ve had some great experiential learning opportunities at the Elliott School, but that’s just plain awesome.

Essentially, Seife’s investigation identified “significant evidence” in 57 published clinical trials where FDA inspectors discovered “…falsification or submission of false information … problems with adverse events reporting … protocol violations … inadequate or inaccurate recordkeeping … failure to protect the safety of patients and/or issues with oversight or informed consent …” and other violations — it never reported. In fact, in some instances the FDA covered up scientific misconduct by pharmaceutical companies, and if it hadn’t been for Seife and honest-to-goodness journalism, we wouldn’t know about it.

I took the opportunity to reach out to Seife, who said that the advice he tells his students is to always go after the stories someone doesn’t want them to tell.

“When you have to fight against opposition to bring something to light,” he said, “that’s when you really know that you’re doing something important.”

Thinking about Seife’s example journalistic integrity, others come to mind.

Barbara Laker and Wendy Ruderman, two working moms in Philadelphia, journalists and best friends, pursued a story about police corruption in 2009. They did so at great risk to themselves, suffering violent intimidation and threat of lawsuit to take down a rogue narcotics squad that had been preying on local businesses. Their efforts triggered an FBI investigation and landed them a Pulitzer Prize — but more importantly they made a difference.

There are plenty of other examples, but the point is that journalism — real journalism — still has a place in our society. I think we as citizens need to do our part to make the most of it; that is to become a reading, thinking, understanding people once more, like we were when the ideals of journalism were canonized.

“I think journalists are, and will always be, relevant,” Seife said. “Dogged, independent research intended for the public is one of the best mechanisms we have to hold powerful governments, corporations and individuals accountable. So long as society values that role we play, there will always be a place for us.”