If media become activists, who will watch the watchdogs?

It will reconnect newspapers with our communities, help solve society's most vexing problems and perhaps offer new enthusiasm for public involvement.

Most important, it will, its proponents promise, help increase newspaper circulation.

All of this from what is being called "community" or "public" journalism.

Like education, journalism is increasingly swept by faddish new theories. The schools have new new math and whole language; newspapers have public journalism.

The concept seems innocuous, even idealistic: Newspapers should go beyond reporting the news of the day and help public officials identify their community's major problems and then suggest solutions.

As put into practice by a small number of papers over the past few years, this concept of activist journalism generally involves a lengthy series of articles openly designed to rally the readers around solving a particular problem. Various "experts" put forth their theories, colorful graphs explain the problem visually, and then – voila! – the newspaper trots out some plan to solve the problem (and often follows that up by pressuring elected officials to implement it).

Given the seemingly intractable nature of many problems facing us today – take your pick from crime, gangs, homelessness, teen pregnancy, drug abuse, illegal immigration – the desire of some journalists to do more than simply report on them is understandable.

But if the sentiment to do something is understandable, are newspapers the appropriate vehicle for exercising political power? After all, who put newspapers in charge of curing society's ills? More specifically, who elected us to office and how do they unelect us? And when we're wrong – as all human beings are from time to time, no matter how well-intentioned – who will hold us responsible?

If the people of a community vehemently disagree with the local newspaper's political agenda, how do they effect change? They can vote the city council out of office – how do you vote a newspaper out of office once it decides it should call the shots?

Even if people largely agree with the newspaper, even in the extremely unlikely case that the newspaper has the expertise and resources to identify and solve the community's problems, it is still unhealthy for an unelected player to perform the role of government in a democracy.

It lets voters off the hook, absolves them of the responsibility of involving themselves in the democratic process. It undermines the supremacy of the ordinary citizen, the citizen who depends on us in the media for fair, professional reporting on their elected officials.

The unique role, the very justification for the media's existence in modern society, is as public watchdog. It is a role we claimed for ourselves over the past 250 years. The First Amendment puts no obligation of fairness or objectivity on the press – we implemented those standards ourselves, and in so doing have created an institution singularly capable of holding even the most powerful leaders on Earth accountable.

The media have forced a president to resign in disgrace and helped bring about the end of the United States' involvement in the war in Southeast Asia – not by any power of our own, but simply by bringing public attention to the misdeeds of the mighty.

Today, too many journalists want to lay claim to the prestige of working in a "profession" while also saying it's unfair to expect them to be unbiased or objective. That, after all, they're just regular people with their own opinions – and that they ought to be able to express them, even in their news stories.

But the whole idea behind the word "profession" is the concept of a higher standard, a set of ethics that demands some sacrifice from its practitioners. A profession is more than a career, it is a calling that serves a unique and important role in society.

In law, attorneys are not supposed to turn down a case just because they don't like the defendant. In education, teachers instruct all who come to them. And if journalism is to be a profession, then it, too, must remain detached and treat all in its purview equally, its adherents never letting their own partisan passions interfere with their duty.

That was something that the high school dropouts who ran the newspapers of yesteryear knew, something today's fancy college-educated journalists think they're too good for.

When we cross the line into active participation in politics, when we cease being observers and begin setting the political agenda and proposing solutions, well, then, we are no longer reporters, we are players. We will have become what we claim to keep watch over: politicians.

When that time comes, we will have abdicated our watchdog role, leaving the public with no one to ask the hard questions, no one holding those wielding power – by then including us – responsible for their actions.

We will, in short, have lost our relevance.