You Shall Know the Truth: Librarianship as a Ministry of Disclosure
By Alicea Peyton, PhD
In an age of organized deception, the question is no longer whether lies exist, but how deeply they are embedded in our infrastructures. From cartel intimidation and trafficking concealment to propaganda-driven war, falsehoods are not incidental—they are engineered. They obscure provenance, distort context, and silence those most vulnerable to harm.
Library and Information Science (LIS) professionals stand at a critical junction. Our work is not neutral. It is either complicit with epistemic violence or actively disruptive of it. The American Library Association’s Bill of Rights affirms the public’s right to access information, but this is more than policy—it is a moral imperative. Withholding truth is not protection. It is betrayal.
The phrase “You can’t handle the truth” has long been used to justify secrecy and deflection. But in the context of organized harm, it becomes a coward’s excuse—a refusal to confront the moral obligation to disclose. To “man up” and tell the truth is to honor the dignity of those who deserve to know, to choose transparency over control, and to reject the serpent’s logic of strategic omission.
Scripture reminds us: “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). This is not metaphor. It is a blueprint for liberation. Minister Louis Farrakhan’s 1993 speech, The Power of a Lie and the Power of the Truth, underscores this urgency. Lies enslave minds. Truth disrupts systems. LIS professionals must recognize our role not only as stewards of information but as agents of communal healing.
Drawing on Paulette Rothbauer’s work on everyday information behavior and Benson George Cooke’s framing of epigenomic ignorance, we see that chronic exposure to falsehoods is not just a cognitive issue—it’s a public health threat. Communities deprived of trustworthy information suffer biologically, psychologically, and spiritually. The librarian’s task, then, is not merely to catalog but to intervene.
This means curating with provenance, teaching verification, and building infrastructures that resist weaponization. It means partnering with communities to co-create information hubs that buffer against epistemic harm. It means refusing to collude with silence.
Truth-telling is not optional. It is a form of courage. It is a public service. And in the hands of librarians, archivists, and information workers, it becomes a ministry—one that aligns everyday practice with the pursuit of justice.