Sharing the Doom

When I wake up, I am usually greeted by messages from friends in differing timezones, which contain the news stories that outraged or horrified them the most while I slept. Throughout the day, a steady stream of such messages flows in. Most of the time, I share their indignation at those news items. Yet, I can’t help but think: Is this how we were supposed to live?

Are we supposed to know about every bombing, every tragedy, every major scandal, and every instance of corruption? I’m more inclined to believe that the torrent of such information will cause people to become apathetic, believing themselves helpless to bring about meaningful change. We become less emotionally affected by such stories too.

How many people have you seen die or get seriously harmed, while you were scrolling through a social media feed? Our desensitization to seeing profound suffering among our fellow man can cause us to fail to see people as we ought. We can be more likely to see them as objects than people in the aftermath of watching or reading such content — because a proper reaction would be overwhelming.

Imagine if you meditated every time you saw someone get injured (or worse) online, and thought through what impact that event had on his life, in terms of the emotional toll, the surgeries, months of physical therapy, impact on his parents and loved ones… it’s too much. Thus, we shrug and keep scrolling, because we have been able to dehumanize those people, but that can’t be a healthy mode of living.

In traditional Catholic circles, when Pope Francis is reported to have said something eyebrow-raising, it’s common for the faithful to remind each other something like this: “Throughout most of history, we would have had no idea what the Pope was saying every week. News only covered the important stuff, and it took months for it to travel.” Thus, it is asserted, people shouldn’t lose their peace over every off-hand remark that he makes, and shouldn’t immerse themselves in such news.

To some degree, that same concept can be applied to the rest of the news too, in terms of historical access. Unless the news affected a community directly, it arrived on a long delay. Today, something across the world can make the Twitter(X) trending list in just minutes. This “interconnectedness” is oft hailed as one of the biggest advantages of the internet, but if we are interconnecting primarily through sharing our moments of despair, it is worth considering that it might also be harmful.

Complicating the issue is that we do have a duty to be informed. We cannot just turn off everything and bury our heads, while proclaiming a moral victory. That would effectively be a surrender to those who are bringing about cultural changes. It would deny our own obligations to protect the gifts of civilization that were given to us, that we might preserve them for the next generations.

If there is a middle ground, I believe it must lie in focusing on the battles that we can change, with particular attention to those fights closer to home. It would mean stopping (or at least limiting) doomscrolling, and being mindful of whether what we share with others is going to help or just contribute to despair. If it’s a video of someone experiencing a gruesome death, let the share chain stop with you.

Few people would argue with the notion that in the modern world, we have lost our sense of the humanity of each person, of our neighbor. Part of the answer is doing something away from the screen, and thus reminding yourself that good really does happen. Children are still being baptized, couples wed, groups gather to discuss what is important to them and to laugh with one another.

Catastrophe has always driven profits, from old newspaper sales to modern post engagement revenue, but what will make you feel human is actually living, and that can’t be done online.