No News Is ...

I don’t watch the news.  And when I listen to it on NPR, it’s usually in five-minute increments. The older I get, the less tolerance I have for being bombarded by pain from every corner of the globe.

Some years ago, I had a conversation with an older woman who grew up in the rural south. She heard her first radio broadcast at the age of sixteen. “The announcer related that there had been a murder,” she said, “and then, in the exact same tone of voice, went on to say that today, the weather would be fine. I was shocked!”

What shocked me was the realization at how ordinary this kind of dissociation has become for us.  The news provides a steady stream what would be, in any one person’s life, moments of climactic intensity. Many people are in the presence of this constant information feed many hours a day.  We walk into it at the barber’s, the airport, the general store, hospitals, many people’s homes. We raise our voices to converse over its murmur, we glaze over at its flashes of light.  We either tune it out, or get sucked in to its intense and fragmented story.

Many children also live in the constant presence of the media.  Young children cannot differentiate between what is “real” and what is “made up,” what is “programming” and what is “advertising.”  (That’s why most children’s programming is linked to products - children are great at marketing to their parents). Children take their cues from us. They learn to tune out the media.  Or learn to tune into the media, and tune out us.

Animals in nature don’t tune out much at all – if they do, they are likely to end up as lunch. Nature’s message is, if you plan to survive, pay attention.

Babies and young children pay attention; they grab at our eyes for visual contact and at our bodies for touch and sustenance.  They take everything in and try to emulate it. But we, the adults they emulate, are tuning things out all the time. On the news, people can be screaming and crying, while we go about getting our hair cut, cooking our eggs, waiting to board a plane.  

We are witnessing a huge increase in children diagnosed with what is called “Attention Deficit Disorder.” Many of these are kids who tune out – or can’t tune out – or both. Many are kids who have difficulty following a logical series of thoughts – or letting go of a single thought – or both. Another frequently occurring symptom is lack of empathy. We see kids who can’t seem to read facial expressions, vocal cues and body language, who don’t display appropriate emotions in given social situations.

Could there be a relationship between these children’s symptoms, and the ever- increasing penetration of the media?
People say things like, “They don’t notice” or “They’re too young to understand.” But my most vivid memories of early childhood are bits of movies and TV shows – and the nightmares I had afterwards.

I’m sure there will be studies, and more studies. Meanwhile, we can ask ourselves, “Do I need to hear the news while I’m driving my child in the car, or feeding my baby breakfast?  Would music create a more coherent experience?  Or even silence, listening to the everyday sounds that surround us?”

We are the directors of the movie of our children’s early lives.  And, at least when they are with us, we can choose the soundtrack.