Old News

Jan 6 2020

The news of the day

comes in flash, alert, breaking.

In the urgent tones

of comely and breathless presenters.

And at some point, becomes old news,

as good an oxymoron as any.

I feel I need to know

yet what changes with my knowing?

My single vote, 4 years hence?

My sinking sense

of being overwhelmed?

When my uncle approached death

he voiced his regret

at having spent so much time keeping well-informed,

the same daily

I have faithfully read

for nearly as long.

The big events, delicious gossip.
The national press

local weekly.

Its small-town news,
which is better, at least

not to mention useful  —

the flower show, school play,

the number to call

to get a pothole paved.

A flash flood

in Bangladesh

that left thousands dead.

While an old man died alone

in a room around the corner.

Abstract numbers, we process and forget;

and how intensely we feel

for those more like ourselves.

Which, we are told

is just human nature

and can't be helped.

As neither can I.

Build a dike, divert the water.

Or give the man a hug

who had no one in his life,

slipping away

on a narrow mattress

in a pool of warm pee.

Until the bills piled up

and spilled from his slot

and overflowed onto the floor.

Until that horrible smell

leaked out from under the door,

and even they couldn't help

but notice.

I'm a news junkie. Always have been. Print media, not TV. Yet I don't think I've ever been under any illusion that it does any good, either for me or society. Yes, it's supposed to be virtuous to be an informed citizen. And it's easy to argue that it's better to be be informed than ignorant. But how true is that, really? Does it make a difference?

I think for me my daily paper – the same one I have faithfully read for decades -- it's more of a ritual than some obsessive “need to know”. I enjoy good writing. I like to challenge my critical thinking skills. And as an introvert and a creature of habit, I have a daily need to slip into my bubble of reading – in my comfortable chair, in my familiar surroundings, in peace and quiet, in unstructured time, and with a cup of hot (very hot!) black coffee in reach – and disappear from the world. ...I realize this sounds incoherent. Aren't I burrowing further into the world, not to mention its dark underbelly? I think what I mean is my world: escaping from the press of immediate reality and the need to interact so that I get to live in my head – which I both enjoy and am very good at. After all, the daily paper isn't all tragedy and demoralizing examples of human nature at its worst. There are explorations of ideas, pieces on culture, human interest stories, wit and wisdom. There is lots to read, not just wars, terrorism, and climate change. Not just corrupt, venal, and ignorant politicians.

The poem addresses – in the usual artful shorthand of poetry – a number of issues with our current news culture.

How when everything is “breaking” and of equal importance, nothing ends up mattering. They talk about a 24 hour news cycle. I don't think that's true anymore. It's more like a 4 hour one. By that time the news is old, and ready to be retired for the next big thing. (After all, Trump has already rage-tweeted another 10 times, and we must keep up!)

How things close to home matter more, our attention moving inversely with distance. Because we identify with people like ourselves, and so a tragedy nearby elicits more emotion than one affecting strangers. We may beat ourselves up about this as some sort of moral failing. But it's human nature: how it's easier to imagine someone's suffering the more easily we're able to see ourselves in their shoes.

How trivial stuff paradoxically deserves more of our time: at least the where and when of the upcoming flower show is “news we can use”, rather than just knowing for the sake of being “informed”.

And I know there is something uncomfortably sensationalistic about the way I characterize the old man's death. But hasn't that been the truism of news reporting from time immemorial? “If it bleeds, it leads”, the tried-and-true aphorism by which any good editor lives.

One of my first readers wrote back to say that it's surprising I would feel conflicted about this: “does it make a difference?” ...of course not! After all, what could be more consistent with my nihilistic worldview than accepting that there is no point in being well-informed, that following the news doesn't makes a difference. He went on to say that “news is a fascinating concept, it draws us like moths to a flame". I responded with this:

Glorified gossip. And in the small social groups in which we evolved, gossip was essential:  a form of social lubricant, as well as social control. Believe it or not, we are genetically selected for gossip!!

Thing is, information itself is pretty useless. Doesn't the hierarchy go "information ...knowledge ...wisdom"? It's not the bits and bytes of news; it's the synthesis, the pattern finding, the historical memory. 

So daily news is far more an entertainment than anything serious. Especially on TV (which I don't watch ....not for news, that is):  "comely presenters", as my poem says! If you aren't blond and don't have good legs (note the transparent news desks!) you don't make it on FOX.