Stress and chips

You know the world has set its tracks in a circle when the news warns you about the health risks of, yes, following the news. The gist is that too much newsiness can stress you out. If you have too much stress you’ll blow a gasket. And that’s never a good thing, especially if you need to get your head resurfaced.

I have a couple of examples of the news about news thing, courtesy of some June headlines.

“Too much bad news can make you sick,” said a June 1 CNN story.

“Almost seven-in-10 Americans have news fatigue,” said a June 5 report from the Pew Research Center, which slices and dices the phenomenon into various demographic categories.

It’s not a new theme. In February of last year, Bloomberg’s website ran an article titled “How to Stay Sane in a World of Crazy News.”

Me, I’m trying to stay sane in a world where some headlines don’t put words in caps, But Other Headlines Do.

Anyway, much of this news-and-stress gig is a subset of today’s broader addiction to electronic media. In that case, I’d say the medium is the madness. But that’s not my topic today.

My topic concerns the environment of contention, the tone of news that flows from it, and the effect that it can have on people

The news-and-stress thing certainly pre-dated smartphones and social media. I remember hearing from a Saipan Tribune reader about 18 years ago; he joked that even a glance at the local papers made him want to get some Prozac. This guy was no sensitive milquetoast, by the way. He was a seasoned and unsentimental attorney. He’s long gone from Saipan now.

His concern wasn’t about how the news was being reported. His concern was about the overall nature of the patronage system and the never-ending stream of contention and intrigues that flowed from it. It’s probably the fountainhead of the majority of local news stories, one way or the other, directly or indirectly. Don’t overlook the indirect angles, by the way; these second-order effects are usually bigger and longer-lived than the more direct facets.

Anyway, one day, a long time ago, I was having an after-work bowl of chips. About a dozen other Saipan professionals were doing the same thing at the same place. It was shaping up to be a nice evening—not too hot, and the humidity seemed lower, if just slightly, than normal.

It was another day in paradise. There was a lively buzz of murmuring as jokes were told, beers were ordered, and cigarettes were offered.

Then, suddenly, the place fell silent.

What happened?

The news happened.

Although I hadn’t even noticed it up until that point, a TV was on. As soon as the music announcing the local news show was audible, the entire place fell silent. With one exception, everyone’s eyes went to the screen. I happened to be the exception. My eyes, for some reason, happened to look at the array of faces that had fallen silent so quickly. Every single face wore a look of strain and mild dread. The faces soon resumed their normal expressions. However, my brief, 2-second look at their initial reactions was an image that I’ll never forget.

There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable in the news, nor was anything remarkable expected. It was just the same old stuff and the same old contentions. People winced when they knew they were in for another dose of it.

Saipan was ahead of the mainland in this regard. Many, if not most, of the professionals on Saipan have learned how to deal with such an environment. In general, they are aware of the basic principles (and principals) at work, but they don’t get caught up in the drama.

My mainland friends, by contrast, were late to the game, but they got there after the mainland itself got so contentious. They have drawn their conclusions about how human nature works (this is probably a rite of middle age), so they don’t need to be saturated in constant examples of the process. Meanwhile, there is a profound paradox of literacy at work: Those who hold the written word in the highest esteem have also been the ones who have cut back the most on their media consumption.

And it’s in the shade of that paradox where I put my beach chair. I’m still happy to write about things that are worth appreciating and things that are worth pondering. Outside of that, though, I’ll let the world argue with itself. Just keep those arguments away from my chair, please, so the rest of us can pass around the chips.