On Reading The News And The Risk Of Going Numb

We're deep into an era of chaos, tragedy, and utter horror. Can we process and react to the news without losing our humanity, or our sanity?

Somebody ask ChatGPT if this is good or bad. Photo by Matt Palmer on Unsplash

In a bid to talk less and post less on social media and, instead, to read and listen more, I’ve decided to give podcasts a serious go. It’s never too late to shut up and learn, right? So far, so good. One of the few podcasts I’m into is The Rest is History, which many of you will be familiar with. There are hundreds of episodes, and the breezy, expert, meandering conversations are a blast. It’s a great fit for me, especially given that, by law, all men who live in the suburbs must get really into history after they turn 40.

Several episodes into listening, I’ve noticed a theme: bad things happen a lot and have for a long time. I knew this before, but listening to the pod reminded me in detail of the variety of wretched times we humans have endured. For instance, in an early episode of TRIH, recorded during the height of Covid, the hosts look back at the 17th century and the havoc in and around England, including the plague, a civil war, and a great fire. Rough days, and the people of the time couldn’t even have someone deliver them a sandwich for $3.00.

Walking to the coffee shop on a bright day and being pulled into worlds and histories of disaster, of extreme distress, I started to think of our own time. I made a little mental list of contemporary struggles, tragedies, and horrors from the pandemic to climate change to Gaza. I worried for a moment that I was becoming numb to it all and wondered how others might be at risk of the same, particularly those of who read and write about such things for a living.

Sometimes I meet people who say they don’t read the news, or that they once read it but have checked out because it was all too much. You might say that’s a privileged existence, and I think that’s true to an extent, but I also think that reading the news isn’t the same as doing politics or helping others or engaging in resistance. And while being aware of the world around you and what’s happening in it might provoke engagement, simply reading the news on its own can be a type of self-serving martyrdom, meaningless punishment, or, worse, sport.

We need to speak out against risks and injustices and horrors. The act of speaking up is itself a good. But then what? “Awareness,” whatever that may be, means nothing in and of itself unless it’s plugged into something that produces a broader outcome, and spending too much time buried in the news of the day is a good way to become cynical, detached, and numb. I think people should speak up against injustice, should try to contribute to a better world in their community and beyond it, and should take part to whatever extent possible in self-government, but you need to know your limits and stay within them.

All too often, a constant, keen eye to the news of the day brings about a kind of ironic detachment from the real suffering that real people face. It’s a bit like the old trope about one death being a tragedy and a million deaths being a statistic. Given the volume and pace of the news in the digital and social media era, we find ourselves processing awful stories at scale and around the clock. Trying to sit with and deeply appreciate it every bit is how you get widdled down to nothing. As a defence mechanism, you might find yourself going numb, or tuning out all together, which is a reasonable response to the conditions, but it’s better to avoid it, if you can.

The cost of going numb to tragedy and disaster is that tragedy and disaster thrive where people go numb to them, especially when we throw up our hands and ask Well what the hell am I meant to do about all of this? It comes off as a catch-22, taking common affairs seriously can be overwhelming, but staying out of them is self-defeating. Climate change is a good example of the phenomenon. When I read about climate change and sit with the scale of the threat, I come away mournful, outraged, and discouraged. We are effectively ignoring the greatest threat of our time, perhaps of any time. But the breadth and depth of the problem is such that our individual actions, while a part of any solution, are wildly insufficient unless others take action, particularly states and large corporations. So, what does it matter if I drive to work, crank the AC at home, or enjoy a handful of nice, imported almonds?

Going numb is one risk, but there’s another. After years of covering politics, I’ve come to despise it in a way you can only hate something you’re very close to. There are plenty of people and things I dislike, but most often they’re at a distance, which provokes a kind of hobbyist’s hatred. Politics, for me, is very close. I hate it intimately and professionally: how we do it, how we talk about it, what we produce from it. I often feel the same way about the news, which is how most people learn about politics. I don’t know how anybody reads this stuff day in and out over the years and comes away with anything but a healthy hatred for it, to be honest. But I think I hate it because I haven’t gone numb. I see what’s going on and burn with the same incandescent rage as ever, as if the news isn’t some abstract thing, but a very real, very present, very tangible series of stories about bad things happening — and as if they way we’re covering all of this is a goddamned mess.

As for those who don’t hate the news and get on with their days like normal people, I would say that I’d like to know their secret. But I think I know it already: they go numb. I’ve written about this before but wanted to come back to it again. I think a key part of the answer to the conundrum here is balance, a mean between extremes. Aristotle preached this gospel. He wrote of virtue and the good life. Today we might think of it as merely getting by in the world without being an unmitigated, useless asshole. That works.

We shouldn't allow ourselves to go numb to chaos, disaster, and tragedy, but stewing in it is no good either. We need to work out our own individual systems for limiting how much we process at a time, what to do about the deluge, and when to stop and go outside. You could read a thousand articles and post a thousand replies on social media but do far better with your time spending a day in your community doing some good or being with a friend or loved one who could use your attention and care. That’s a long, complicated way of saying ‘touch grass’, pick your battles, and do what you can with what you’ve got. That’s how you remain useful but avoid going numb, I suppose. It’s clichéd, but it’s good advice and, for now, it’s the best I’ve got.