Tom Avila is a contributing writer to Metro Weekly news magazine and a staffer for the National Lesbian & Gay Journalists Association.

While reading a book that had absolutely nothing to do with Martin Luther King, I was surprised to come across the following quote from the reverend: “So this morning, as I look into your eyes and into the eyes of all my brothers in Alabama and all over America and over the world, I say to you, ‘I love you. I would rather die than hate you.’”

If there has been one thing that has caused me to weary during this campaign season, it’s been the level of anger and, frankly, outright hatred that we’ve seen. Not just at rallies or in advertising generated by supporters of both candidates (who have offered us such intellectual discourse as this and this), but on the reader boards of various news sites. There’s a level of personal hostility toward both the candidates and their supporters that – while certainly not a new invention of this campaign season – is nonetheless depressing.

Taking its own hits during this marathon of an election season has been the “liberal elite media.” Dana Milbank couldn’t even get a hug at one McCain rally … though someone did offer to knock his teeth out.

A writer at another paper wrote on his blog about a colleague being kicked from behind at a rally by an attendee who apparently forgot how to use his words to express his dislike of how the event was being covered. Because, really, what better way to encourage fair coverage than to assault a reporter?

It turns out that we would not rather die than hate one another. The sad thing is how many of us have known this for some time now.

In the midst of the mudslinging and personal attacks (and, again, I’m not just talking about the candidates), we marked the 10th anniversary of the murder of Matthew Shepard. More quietly, we passed the 6th anniversary of the violent killing of Gwen Araujo. Gwen was a transgender teenager who was attacked by several individuals after they discovered she was not a biological female.

A single year has not yet managed to pass since the senseless death of 15-year old Lawrence King, who was shot and killed by a classmate. Lawrence had, reportedly, given his male shooter a Valentine’s Day card just days before.

All three of these young people are no longer with us because someone chose hate. And they will, unfortunately, not be the last to pay such a price.

According to statistics from a 2007 survey released by GLSEN, the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network, nearly nine out of 10 (86.2%) LGBT students experienced harassment in their schools. Nine out of 10. If only such a staggering statistic could be attributed to some kind of academic excellence or community youth volunteerism.

So what on earth does any of this have to do with the practice of journalism? I would say it is this:

The opposite of hate is not love. It’s knowledge.

The facts and information we traffic in on a daily basis can absolutely make a difference. Not all of it, but the things that seem overly pedestrian or aren’t the hot topic on the blogosphere. The stuff that we sometimes forget is more important than the cost of a candidate’s wardrobe or the decades-old activities of his acquaintances or whether Joe the Plumber is actually licensed. (Truly, if Joe isn’t coming to my house to fix my toilet, I’m not entirely concerned whether the state has approved his wrench technique.)

Think about it. What was your reaction to the idea that nine out of 10 LGBT youth have been harassed in their schools? To the fact that a young woman was killed because someone didn’t understand what it is to be transgender? To the idea that a young man was shot for passing out a Valentine?

What other stories and facts and ideas are out there in the world that your readers, viewers and listeners need to know? What information that might change someone’s entire way of understanding the world is going to go unexamined because our newsrooms are too small and our reporting staffs too overwhelmed and someone has decided that it’s more important to focus on stolen campaign yard signs and stump speech gaffes?

The easy out has become that they can find the information for themselves. It’s on the Web site. Someone else is probably covering it. They won’t pay any attention anyway. 
As has been the case so many times in our collective history, the role of the journalist is an incredibly crucial one right now. While I have never wished to be wrong more than I do right now, I think that the ugliness we are seeing is a glimmer of what might come to pass come the early hours of Nov. 5.

What stories will you tell? What stories will you fight for?

And, for those of you at the top of the chain, what will your news organization stand for?

The opinions expressed in this essay belong to Tom Avila and not his employer, NLGJA. The soapbox from which he delivered it is also his own and available for rental. Interested parties are welcome to e-mail him.