The Case For Drowning Out the News
Social expectations and democracy dictate that it’s our duty to tune in to the news. It’s ruining our health.
“You could write a ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’ just about the last week,” Casey Dolan, a producer at MSNBC tweeted back in July.
She was making a reference to the tempestuous lyrics of Billy Joel’s 1989 hit that breathlessly chronicles the plethora of era-defying political and cultural occurrences that had unfolded over the 50 years before the record was released: Joel’s lifetime.
Dolan’s tweet has since been viewed more than 500,000 times. I've joined about 12,000 people in hitting the like button. I’d giggle-groaned as I scrolled through the replies: “Shooters’ stance, JD Vance, Dems and Biden do a dance…”
Dolan has a point. Each week I’m hit with an onslaught of headlines that, even individually, would be enough to overwhelm: The world is at war; the planet is boiling; politicians are being shot at, financial markets are in meltdown. And that’s just what makes the front page.
Omnipresent screens broadcast the maelstrom of headlines relentlessly. And while it’s perfectly normal to feel exhausted by all this information, it’s also perfectly normal to find yourself unable to look away. Enter the doomscroll. I challenge you to come up with a more perfect example of human irrationality.
I’ve lost count of the number of friends and acquaintances who, over the last month alone, have told me they just can’t deal with it anymore. The “it” being everything from the fear of catching Covid yet again, to the rising cost of living, to the war on reproductive rights, the heat waves and tornadoes and forest fires and cyberattacks and civil unrest—in short, to the bad news coming from what feels like every corner of the earth and beyond.
In many societies, there’s an expectation that an upstanding citizen should keep abreast of current affairs—indeed, democracy demands it. But I’d argue we’ve gotten to a point where switching off the news is not only desirable, it’s critical self-care.
The Science of Unplugging
Scientific research alone should be enough to convince anyone of the merits of unplugging.
In 2022, the American Psychology Association noted that although there is no formally recognized disorder or diagnostic criteria, “many psychologists are seeing patients suffering from news-related stress and seeking guidance on how to help them.”
One study of 2,251 adults conducted in the spring of 2020, found a direct correlation between the frequency that people sought information about Covid-19 across various media—television, newspapers, and social media—and the likelihood of those people reporting emotional distress.
Put simply, “news is toxic to your body,” as the Swiss author and entrepreneur Rolf Dobelli wrote in a 2013 essay for the Guardian. “It constantly triggers the limbic system. Panicky stories spur the release of cascades of glucocorticoid (cortisol),” he added. “This deregulates your immune system and inhibits the release of growth hormones. In other words, your body finds itself in a state of chronic stress.”
And the list of the common effects of stress is almost longer than that of terrible things being documented in the news: headaches, anxiety, overeating, under-eating, angry outbursts, drug and alcohol abuse, fatigue, sadness, depression, apathy—just to name a few. All of this can have an immediate knock-on effect on quality of sleep as those who sleep less are more stressed, and those who are more stressed, sleep less. (And yes, it’s worse for women.)
Dobelli’s essay also makes the point that news is less relevant than you think. “Out of the approximately 10,000 news stories you have read in the last 12 months, name one that—because you consumed it—allowed you to make a better decision about a serious matter affecting your life, your career or your business?” he challenges.
As for me, I wonder how much energy I’ve expended feeling simultaneously devastated and helpless about something that’s happened far away. Or how much sleep I’ve lost trying to come to terms with the outcome of a referendum or a vote, or with the death toll of a particular tragedy, despite knowing full well that my sleeplessness isn’t going to change it.
Of course the worst offender is what one might think of as clickbait: News packaged with sensationalist headlines designed to hook, horrify, shock and be shared—a cunning trick of the industry to drive up profits even at the expense of human wellbeing.
Realistic Expectations
So how does one opt out of the incessant drumbeat of news?
The first step to combating an addiction (and let’s be honest, that’s what this is) is acknowledging the problem. The next, is recognizing that a phone is “a sort of drug delivery system,” as Dr. Steven Stosny, a therapist who specializes in treating people suffering from anger and resentment, dubs it.
Then—and this one is good news—it’s important to set realistic expectations. For many people, for better or for worse, their phone is effectively another limb. It’s both companion and tool; a conduit and an instrument that sits at the center of social lives and professional existences. Simply turning it off is, for many, unthinkable. Even the prospect of doing so, could feasibly trigger more stress than the most upsetting headline.
It’s therefore important to be practical: Limit notifications without stopping them altogether; allocate phone-free time, while knowing that the phone is accessible in an emergency; have a phone curfew, but give yourself permission to pick it up in the morning. Some have tried to quit social media altogether, though that can be stressful, too.
Personally, I’ve found that distraction is the most effective cure. Aware of my own habit of wallowing in distressing headlines and then making everything worse by reading non-fiction books that contribute to an even deeper doom-dive (I’m currently reading the brilliant but dark, "The Fall of Roe"), I’ve set myself a goal this year of reading more novels.
I’ve challenged myself to curate some excellent playlists (yes to Billy Joel, but not to that song) that tempt me away from news podcasts. I’ve even tried going for runs without anything at all to listen to apart from my own footsteps, the occasional siren, and the familiar hum of New York City traffic. I have explicitly told myself that it’s not my responsibility to know each whiplash-inducing twist and turn of the daily news grind; ironic, given I’m actually in the news business.
By the time you’re reading this (assuming you’ve gotten this far), I’ll be on vacation with my family. We’ve rented a house that’s reasonably remote. Part of me hopes the Wi-Fi is bad. It would be annoying. It would also be a relief. As I soak up the sun, I know I’ll be feeling that tug of wanting to know what’s going on in the world. But maybe, just this once, it can wait.
The art of detachment isn’t easy to master, but I’ve got to start somewhere.
Emma Haslett
Holly Baxter
Emma Haslett
