I’m going to confess something that no respectable journalist should
ever own up to. Here goes... I don’t watch the news.
Nope, never.
I don’t watch news broadcasts on TV, I don’t read the newspapers and I don’t visit
news sites (which, to be fair, are dominated by celebrity updates anyway).
It’s because, as a sensitive person, the news makes me feel deeply
despondent about the world and about the future. And given the horrors we’ve
already witnessed this year – Orlando, Istanbul airport and Brussels, to name a
few – my head-in-the-sand stance is more and more important.
As a qualified journalist, avoiding current affairs is somewhat
reckless. It’s been drummed into me from my training how important a role the
news media play in society – keeping politicians honest, setting the political
agenda and keeping the public informed. In short, the media are powerful agents
of change. With that in mind, I should absolutely be keeping up with the play
about what’s happening in the world (and especially since newspaper
circulations are falling – I should be supporting my fellow journos). Except...
I can’t.
Because watching, for example, reports of shootings, terror attacks,
racist diatribes from Trump and any accounts of crime deeply upset me. I’m not talking about just feeling sad or sorry for someone who is suffering, I’m talking about a core emotional response.
That’s kinda the deal when you’re sensitive. You pick up on the energies
of others around you, and it’s difficult not to take that on. It’s the same
with the media. I feel a smidgen of the victims’ distress and I crumble. I feel distraught and fearful. I feel distrustful of my fellow
man/woman. I have a crushing sense of hopelessness. Which is no good to anyone.
So I simply don’t watch it.
I know this means I am uninformed, and I’m fine with it. But I really
don’t think there’s any value in me knowing the details of the Orlando gunman’s
MO or the Paris terror attack locations, for example.
I’m sure media commentators would condemn me for sticking my head in the
sand, and I’m fine with that too.
Because for me, the toll of reading, watching or discussing these events
is too great.
Sure, it’s important to know that these tragedies have happened, and I
get that knowledge from social media and interactions with my peeps. But I don’t
delve into those stories, and I’m not afraid to walk away from conversations
that linger on them.
Here’s the thing – I do not need
to bear witness to people’s suffering to know that these actions are
deplorable. I do not honour the victims in any way by raking over the
nuances of their pain. I do not value my own life, or my family’s lives, any
more fiercely simply by knowing the extent that others have been subjected to
unimaginable pain. So I don’t imagine it, at all.
Here’s how I honour people who’ve lost their lives or suffered emotional
or physical pain as a result of a big-news tragedy. It’s the same way I make
sure that the world is not – in spite of how news coverage tends to make me feel
– hopeless or bleak, and the human race is not intrinsically evil.
I keep giving love. I keep volunteering my time. I keep sending out
messages of positivity and hope on social media. I keep smiling at and
acknowledging the people who are overlooked (lonely elderly people on
park benches, miserable bus drivers, exhausted cashiers, etc). I keep showing
up for my loved ones who need me. (I am not saying I nail this stuff every
time, BTW.) Most importantly, I keep focusing on the beauty, the joy and the
magic in every day.
Liz Gilbert says that when confronted with horrifying news stories,
instead of upsetting herself by reflecting on the nefarious forces that led to
such a tragedy, she looks for the helpers. The people who respond from the most
basic level of humanity – that compulsion to love and support each other, which
we are all hardwired to do – by assisting those who are affected by a
devastating event. The people who queued all day in the Florida heat to donate
blood after Orlando. The people who offered to ride public transport with
Muslims after the Lindt Cafe siege in Sydney. The people who took around
glasses of orange juice after the Boston Marathon bombing. My heart swells just
thinking about them.
I am not suggesting everyone should avoid the news, and I’m certainly not
advocating ignoring horrific events completely. It’s true that these tragedies
are an opportunity for us to make change in the world – lobbying for gun
reform, for example, or rethinking our social attitudes to alcohol. So, yes,
there is value in learning more about these tragedies and in starting
conversations that may inspire change at a community and even a global
level.
But often, in my experience, what actually happens is we stand around
muttering comments like ‘it’s so sad’ and ‘it breaks my heart’ then we go back
to talking about Pokemon Go. That’s not a criticism, by the way – if
gathering to discuss tragedies, even for a short time, makes you feel better
and gives you an emotional outlet, that’s great. For me, it doesn’t – it simply
leaves me with a sense of futility and powerlessness. So instead I’ll allow
community leaders, reporters and those who feel called to agitate for change to
delve into negative news and use that as their fuel for action. I’ll support
them where I can, but only from a distance.
There is nothing I can do to stop these sorts of tragedies from
occurring. What I can do, however, is make sure they do not define the human
experience for me and for those around me. I don’t need to listen to the news
to do that – I just need to listen to my heart.