News | Fumitoshi Kato, Dean of the Graduate School of Media and Governance
2022.03.01
I felt somewhat restless and woke up around 5:30 a.m. My left arm, where I just had my third vaccination, feels heavy (other than that, there are no side effects). Outside the window, there are signs of a faint dawn, but the moon is clearly visible. February was a hectic month, but I couldn't take my eyes off the curling matches and was constantly watching them on TV. In fact, I had already finished writing this installment of the "Okashira Nikki" with the title "Nice~." But I no longer feel like publishing such a piece. So, I slipped out of bed before dawn to write something new.
The news of a war starting in a distant place is truly frustrating. It's not just about war; perhaps it's a sense of helplessness that comes from things being "far away." Information constantly flies around, predicated on a global network environment. On the other hand, in the end, we have no choice but to continue facing our own daily lives right in front of us. I've realized that checking the daily number of new COVID-19 cases announced in the evening has become part of my routine. Just a few days ago, the airwaves were filled with Olympic broadcasts and the "triumphant interviews" of medalists. That changed abruptly, and the media began to report exclusively on events in much more distant places.
For the past few days, I've been feeling restless. When I turn on the TV, my colleagues are appearing as commentators. In that sense, I can perceive it as an event close to me, but still, I eventually run into the reality that it is something "far away." Everything is being delivered through the media.
It's similar to that time. At the end of 1990, I was in the United States, about to celebrate my second New Year as an international student. Although I had gone to study abroad with a self-conceived image of a "bright and positive America," Philadelphia at the time was by no means safe, and some areas were genuinely frightening. The 1990s would later see an economic recovery, but this was just before that. I think America back then was gloomy.
My memory is hazy. I only recall a scene from shortly after the new year, walking near the Delaware River on the east side of the city. I wonder if I had gone out for a meal with a friend. In my line of sight was the Benjamin Franklin Bridge. I too could feel the atmosphere gradually shifting toward war. There was a heavy feeling, as if I couldn't laugh from the heart. Then, in mid-January, Operation Desert Storm was launched.
I had the feeling that "it has finally begun," but as I was living in a major city in the mainland United States and attending graduate school, it soon became something "far away." As my classes got busier, my attention was immediately captured by the reading lists and assignments in front of me. Perhaps my status as a graduate student helped to block out various thoughts. The city didn't look drastically different. Back then, there were no smartphones to deliver an uninterrupted stream of what was happening on the ground. The neighborhood where I lived could not become "the scene," and I mostly just saw and heard about it on the TV news.
The beginning of the 1990s was a time when the shapes of nations were changing, and the state of the world began to shift with a great swell. Around that time, in graduate school, I was reading Herbert Gans's book "Deciding What's News." It might be considered a "classic" now, but I also read (was made to read) many other books and papers on communication studies. In that book, the author conducted participant observation in the field of television and magazine production to examine how "news" is shaped. Who spins the "news," and for what purpose? It also offered insights into the values and professional ethics of people involved in media, as well as various (political) dynamics. Of course, in the smartphone era, the speed and distribution mechanisms of "news" are vastly different from what Gans studied half a century ago. However, the fact that someone is plotting something and sending out "news" while selecting the medium should not have changed much even today.
We cannot remain indifferent. I believe we must have clear judgment about the "distant events" we learn about through the media. While squarely facing our daily lives, we wish for the safety of people in faraway lands. We can only pray that a day will come when we can greet the morning with peace of mind.