Four incorrect thoughts after the bombs in Paris
One: geographical and cultural proximity is decisive to determine how much we feel affected by this kind of tragedies. But, is that right?
Leave aside your gut feelings, and the fact that you once attended a gig in the Bataclan or that you have strolled so often next to Stade de France: why are we so much more concerned about these deaths, compared to similar unexpected attacks in other parts of the world, in other times? All the immediate expressions of shock, sorrow, rage and perplexity we saw on social media, all the changed avatars, all the people who told us they could not sleep that night — isn’t all that also a sign of ethnocentrism and chauvinism? I am not blaming the French; it’s a European/Western thing. The bombings in Madrid, London, Oslo, created reactions that were far bigger and quicker than similar massacres in Colombia, Mexico, India, countries of Africa. Is that rational? Is it fair?
Someone told me that France is a democratic, developed country that is not at war, and that it’s supposed to be a safe place. It’s a country were you can be very confident you will not die unexpectedly because someone immolates next to you. According to this person, that is what makes this tragedy more relevant, more meaningful. I think that is a factor, certainly. But I’m not referring to the rational analysis of the practical consequences of this attack in the context of geopolitics, or even day-to-day life. I’m talking about feeling worse, or about shouting your anger louder in Twitter.
Of course I understand that three people killed violently by extremists in the heart of Europe could have a huge potential to affect politics, the economy and international conflicts in the other side of the world; while a few thousand slit throats in some war-ridden African country might pass almost unnoticed in the news. That is the sad state of the world, and its inequalities.
But when it comes to lamenting deaths and expressing solidarity and frustration, how can we justify the public condemnations and heated reaction only in some cases? What does that say about us as citizens of the world?
Two: the media exaggerate and make things up. A lot.
Merely a few hours after the first news of the attacks, the media reported that France was immediately “closing its borders”. Not only proved this to be extremely ambiguous. It was also false.
The morning after, I crossed the French border in a car with two other people, and entered Switzerland to get to Geneva airport. I thought that all border checkpoints were going to be manned (as pre-Schengen), and that at the very least, agents would check documentation of everyone attempting to cross.
Well, we did not even see the border. No agents, no signs, nothing. In the end, “closing the border” didn’t mean a thing (skip to the last thought if you think that, well, they did close some borders, so the headline was fair).
The journalists reproducing the press release probably knew that “we are closing all borders immediately” did not mean thousands of people were going to be unable to leave the country for hours, or days. They probably knew that for the vast majority of people expecting to cross the border as part of their travels or daily activities, there would be no disruption at all. And if they did not know that, they should have sought details and clarification from the government or other authorities, or should have gone to checkpoints themselves to understand what was happening.
It was their job to report about that accurately, but they didn’t. Instead, they chose the sensationalist headline.
Three: breaking news distort reality and confound our daily life
This is related to the previous thought.
As I said, the morning after the attacks I travelled around 80 km from the Haute-Savoie department in France to Geneva airport in Switzerland. I was sharing a rental car with an American and a Canadian, the trunk was full with our luggage, and even more bulky luggage was clearly visible through the windows in the back of the car. I took an international flight a few hours later. We could have been suspects.
Well, if I had not heard at all about the attacks during those hours, my whole experience of travelling by car and plane, my time at the airport, the security checks and my crossing two borders — all that would have happened exactly in the same way. What was the difference then, for me, between learning about all that as it was happening, and reading about it six days later in the next issue of The Economist?
I’m ever more convinced that “breaking news” are to be avoided, if one aspires to lead a healthy life and to base his/her own decisions on rational principles.
I suspect the only reason to want to learn about very recent events is that a few events (very few) may impact you directly. Examples of that are: a huge scandal affects a company of which you own shares, and the price is starting to plummet (you may want to take action and sell as soon as you can); a natural disaster affects the very place where you live, or where people who are very close to you live. Things like that. The rest can definitely wait.
Not only it is needlessly stressing and misleading to pay attention to “breaking news” or “live coverage” of any kind; I’d go as far as saying that making a daily habit of reading (or watching) the news is also useless at best, confusing at worst.
Research shows that the constant stream of flippant declarations from politicians, wars, natural disasters, anecdotal deaths, exceptional incidents, individual experiences, morbid photographs… all that distorts our perception of reality, our assessment of daily risks, and the long-term progress of our human societies.
As opposed to “breaking news”, I love the idea of weekly, or monthly press clippings of high quality. Almost nothing in the news is going to affect you so much that it can’t wait a few days, so why not making it a weekly habit instead?
If you are interested in this idea, check out The Economist’s “Politics this week” and “Business this week” sections, or the NYT’s daily briefing.
Four: our ideas of safety and our security measures are broken
Bruce Schneier and others have written so much about this. What is the point of those security measures which our own personal experience demonstrates are so porous, so often?
I don’t know about you, but I no longer care to remove water bottles or contact-lens liquid from my luggage before the security check at the airport. I can’t remember when was the last time an agent spotted one of those in my luggage. Or my belt. Or that I had not removed my shoes.
Public transport systems and public attractions in Japan have been “on a high alert” at least since I moved here, one year and a half ago. That is equivalent to no alert at all, of course.
Nothing new. But our experience crossing the invisible border with a car full of suitcases brought to my mind again the deplorable security theatre we live in.
Originally published on Medium