Don't Read All About It

I should preface this entry with a note of warning: many of these thoughts are not new to me, but this is the first time I have set them down. Please bear with their unsophisticated nature in some cases. There are some things you think and wonder about which are so delicate that they might best be kept private. Others are very sensitive but you feel the need to share. I'm not sure which camp this falls into; nor am I certain that I will be doing justice to the thoughts in my head. But this a blog, not a book. Publishers don't need to be impressed; sales don't matter; no one's reputation is at stake (as if I have one worth protecting!).

Learning of the explosions at the Boston Marathon this week, I soon became entirely swept up in the rolling news coverage. For a few hours of my life, it was the only thing that actually mattered - the only thing that was happening. My mind teemed with theories and the unfolding detail. I became irritated with those on the internet posting or talking about anything other than this story. I went through many of the emotions peculiar to tragic breaking news: shock, disquiet, sadness, anger, confusion, excitement (a darker reaction I'm not ashamed to mention, since I am certain I'm not alone in it). But among all of these there was still a sensation I've long had watching dramatic terroristic events befalling the West: a discomfort. I found it uncomfortable that my (quite legitimate) emotional response to Western tragedy is rarely, if at all, matched when I learn of bombings, attacks, genocide and the like in the non-Western world. I like to see myself as a sensitive, thoughtful man. And news from Syria or Mali in recent months has exercised and upset me hugely. And yet...

...I can catch myself almost rolling my eyes at a non-headline news item on the BBC website chronicling another car bomb or suicide attack in Iraq or Afghanistan. I will quickly give myself a virtual pinch and take a cursory look at the story. But often a home news item or some football gossip will take my fancy, and I'll move on. Here's the thing: I don't think for a second I'm the only one who experiences 'tragedy fatigue', or whatever the media studies folk are calling it this week. And I do think that if there were regular attacks on certain Western cities or regions, I'd just as likely find myself skipping the latest incident after a time. But it's more than simply an overload of bad things in certain parts of the world. There is, without a doubt, a cultural aspect to this. And this is where the discomfort really comes into its own.

I think we all (or at least all but the most self-aware and transcendent individuals) have a natural inclination to sympathise and identify with events occurring in parts of the world which most closely resemble our own day-to-day lives and cultures. Westerners are (either societally or through hard-wiring) going to be more upset by news of a bomb going off in a Western country. We will see shops and adverts and bustle - capitalism in all its glory - disrupted by ne'er-do-wells. And even if those 'evil-doers' are White Western 'lone nuts' rather than far-more-convenient fundamentalists, we still have more fellow feeling than with a comparable scene in a sandy Muslim city (for example). Admittedly, this analysis is somewhat crude, and I do not know enough African or Asian people to confirm whether they would feel the same in similar circumstances, but I will blunder on and suggest that even within the predominantly White Western world there will be stronger and weaker connections. Given the Special Relationship between the UK and the US, and America's enduring pop cultural hegemony, I will tentatively propose that it's likely more British people would be greatly affected by a bomb in the States than by one in, say, Italy or even another English-speaking nation like Australia. Writing entirely personally here, I now have more than a vested interest in Australia and certain Australians. But could I say - hand on heart - that twelve years ago an attack on Sydney would have affected me quite as strongly as the one in NYC? I'm really not sure. And maybe - increasing the magnification again - it's as much about cultural signifiers: something terrible happening in Los Angeles would probably be more powerful and affecting to us than an identical event in Detroit or Houston. Even if we haven't travelled there, then thanks to film, television and commercials we feel that we have a strong attachment to its landmarks and (by extension) its people.

Last but by far not least, we have the subject of what makes the bulletin, and where it sits in the list of priority stories. I'm aware that 'News Values' have long been an area of academic study (the work of the Glasgow Media Group was groundbreaking in its analysis of television newscasting). On the same day that 3 people died and over 150 were injured in the Boston blasts, there was a massive earthquake in Iran which killed at least 30 people in Pakistan and probably many more in the unforthcoming Persian state. That story did not break through most television bulletins, and sat a lowly fourth or fifth on the World News pages of most news websites. But the difference is not only cultural here, it's also practical. What makes a bigger story, and what will fill the rolling feeds: moment-by-moment footage of the aftermath in New England, or vague reports of multiple deaths in Asia? That said, I am almost certain that even had there been video footage of the devastating earthquake, the Boston story would still have headlined.

I don't want to draw definitive conclusions, especially from such broad brushstrokes. There remains the one thing I said earlier: human beings identify more readily with people with whom they have most in common. It's almost too facile to mention. But the ramifications regarding what affects and upsets us, what draws our empathy and concern, what we deem important and valuable in the world, is likely to be interesting and inconvenient.