Wednesday, November 20, 2019 // The Statement
2B

Managing Statement Editor

Andrea Pérez Balderrama

Deputy Editors

Matthew Harmon

Shannon Ors

Associate Editor

Eli Rallo

 Designers

 Liz Bigham

 Kate Glad

 Copy Editors

 Silas Lee 

 Emily Stillman

 

Photo Editor 

Danyel Tharakan

Editor in Chief

Maya Goldman

Managing Editor

Finntan Storer
statement

THE MICHIGAN DAILY | NOVEMBER 13, 2019

W

e left the farm to begin our 
weekly climb up the hill to 
the chapel. The cell reception 
was better toward the top of the slope, so 
we often went there before dusk to call fam-
ily and friends thousands of miles away. The 
dogs barked ahead of us in excitement as we 
used the sturdy walking sticks to support 
our weight. Despite the fading colors and 
chipped paint on its walls, the church’s green 
columns and blue structure shined in the set-
ting sun’s gaze.
We entered the shadows under the bal-
cony to catch our breath and shield our-
selves from the intense sunlight. I pulled out 
my phone to call my parents as usual. After 
updating them with what I had been doing 
that week, I swiped down to scan through 
hundreds of push notifications, pausing to 
glance at the headlines about the Democratic 
presidential primary and Special Counsel 
Robert Mueller’s testimony. I continued to 
peruse through weeks of news until an email 
with the words “Shootings” and “Kashmir” 
caught my attention. I felt an ache in my 
chest as I read the evening news briefing 
from the New York Times.
Two mass shootings had occurred in 
Dayton and El Paso two days before the 
Aug. 5 briefing, which I was reading on the 
ninth — almost a week after the violence 
had occurred. I didn’t have time to process 
that information since I also read the Indian 
government revoked Kashmir’s semi-auton-
omous status and sent in its forces to occupy 
the region.
I was silent on the walk back to the farm, 
distressed by how much had happened 
without me learning about it. What else did 
I miss? What other events happened in the 
world that just slipped right by me?
T

his past summer, I interned with 
a small, family-run organization 
in La Bolivarense, a rural sector in 
northwest Ecuador. We came to document 
the history of the region since many of the 
original founders still live there, offering a 
unique opportunity to foster community 
engagement. 
Though it was no doubt a rewarding expe-
rience to work within a community and to 

cultivate a greater understanding of its ori-
gins, there was a certain irony in my being 
there. For, while I was in Ecuador, I couldn’t 
help but lament the sacrifice I had made in 
losing access to news on global and domestic 
events.
It should come as no surprise, coming from 
a student journalist, I’m an avid consumer 
of news. As a New York Times subscriber, I 
check the newspaper’s online front page a 
few times a day. Whenever a big event hap-
pens, I read an article about the subject from 
every news outlet I can, and I watch at least 
two or three videos of political analysis, too. 
Following the news has essentially taken up 
the mantle that television and movies once 
held. Being caught in the 24-hour news cycle 
means it’s hard to step back and slow down.
Going to a remote location in Ecuador 
with essentially no access to the internet 
meant I would have to put reading news 
on hold. My discovery at the chapel 
highlighted the anxiety I experienced 
from distancing myself from a 24-hour 
news cycle. I was so accustomed to the 
rapid consumption and constant access 
to information that its absence left me 
a wide-eyed addict desperate for long-
form profiles and breaking news pieces. 
The absence of news in my life 
changed my behavior while living with 
my host family. I repeatedly swiped 
down to refresh my email, even when I 
knew I’d be met with a “No connection” 
message at the bottom of my screen. It 
was equally frustrating when I did have 
a connection and email briefings still 
wouldn’t load properly. I even resorted 
to crouching in the bathroom and peer-
ing at the newspapers written in Span-
ish along the floor, only to find that they 
were three years old. I read them any-
way.
My hysteria subsided with time, and 
as I focused on our project, I began to 
see what kind of life I’d live if national 
and global news wasn’t always at my 
fingertips. We woke up at seven every 
morning to help feed the guinea pigs 
and chickens on the farm and clean 
their cages. We walked for hours in 

direct sunlight to meet with founders from 
the community. The interviews themselves 
ranged from 30-minute to hour-long conver-
sations. The work was grueling, yet there was 
a greater intimacy in the moment-to-moment 
routine of the days. We were engaged with-
out the opportunity for digital distractions or 
pings from CNN to hijack our attention. 
While I still talked about news with the 
other interns and the host family, our con-
versations were intimate as we weaved per-
sonal narratives into our discussions and 
talked about how natural disasters, politics 
and significant events impacted our lives. 
The internship gave me the opportunity to 
see how reading the news nonstop with the 
intent of being aware actually made me more 
distant from issues that mattered to those 
around me. Our history project was a work 
of news, yes, but unlike national news, it was, 

in a sense, a work of community journalism 
made by and for La Bolivarense. It enhanced 
connections within the town rather than 
detracting from them as a national news 
story might.
When I came back to Chicago in August, 
I initially regressed back into my constant 
digestion of domestic and international 
news. So much continues to happen, and 
being an informed citizen demands that we 
engage with journalism. But every now and 
then, when I get especially busy, I’m able to 
take a step back from the news cycle and take 
it in piecemeal through briefings rather than 
my daily binge reading. I’m more attentive 
in my own life and in the global news world 
when I can take it slower. Now, I recognize 
how some of the greatest “news stories” 
in my life might appear right in front of me 
rather than on a front page.

Disconnecting to connect: Thoughts on 
the 24-hr news cycle

BY ARJUN THAKKAR, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

ILLUSTRATION BY CASEY TIN AND KATE GLAD

