The Quantum Weirdness of the Modern-Day News Cycle
Navigating the hall of mirrors that is the 21st century media hellscape.
“I don’t know what is true anymore.”
How many times have you thought this over the past few years, compared with over the entire duration of your life? I’m not ashamed to admit that, for me, the answer is: way more than ever before.
Indeed, the process of keeping up with current events has gotten vastly more complicated for me. Gone are the halcyon days of simply reading the newspaper over coffee and calling myself an informed member of society; my process for trying to get to the truth of any news item has instead evolved into some sort of multistep, ritualistic process of triangulation:
Read said news item in an established news publication with a long track record of being in business.
Read a dissenting interpretation or counter-explanation from a reputable independent journalist or media source with a shorter track record, but perhaps less corporate self-interest.
Try to track down the source material the story came from (if available).
Weight all three of the above by their estimated likelihood of introducing partisan bias into their reporting.
The “news” for me, then, takes on the characteristics of a weird, probabilistic superposition of a few possible explanations, instead of merely being a cut-and-dry expression of fact. I don’t blame the folks that just turn on their favorite news channel and call it a day — or those that choose to ignore the news altogether. Engaging with this quantum news cycle is labor-intensive; I feel like news outlets should be paying me.
The very idea of news passing through a partisan lens before making its way to our computer screens is no longer objectionable to us; in fact, we often willingly accede to viewing the world through such a lens. We’re quick to pick apart misleading reporting and bad “takes” when it comes from those that don’t share our political leanings, but exceedingly forgiving when it confirms our existing beliefs. It’s as if we’ve accepted that whatever we see, read, and hear may or may not be the most accurate representation of reality, but might still be the correct representation of reality, depending on our leanings. And — sadly — that’s become good enough for us.
One could seemingly make the case that it has always been this way. After all, bias in the media is nothing new, and is actually more a feature than a bug. Even the editorial decision of what stories to cover conveys some sort of bias on the part of those making the decision; that’s what determines the “voice” of the publication, after all. Absolute perspective doesn’t exist, so one could argue that journalistic objectivity is merely an ideal to aspire to, and in practice, all reporting contains some degree of subjectivity. True impartiality in anything has always been hard to come by.
Still, there’s reason to believe that the modern media landscape is far more confusing than it once was. Trust in the media has plummeted near all-time lows, with a Reuters Institute poll of 92,000 online news consumers around the world ranking the United States dead last in such matters. It’s clear that our media is suffering a crisis of confidence, and one that can’t be explained away solely by pinning the blame on outrage-baiting media critics or wacky conspiracy theorists. I believe that there are two trends that got us here: one relating to how certain stories get amplified, and one relating to the monoculture of so many modern newsrooms. Let’s get into the weeds for a second…
First, let’s take the amplification issue. Many news platforms — both online and on television — operate on a business model where advertiser revenue is directly tied to impressions: the more viewers and readers, the more revenue generated from advertisers. Although television news shows have relied on this model for years, it’s a somewhat recent development for their print-only counterparts; after all, it would have been impossible to track page views on newsprint. The advent of engagement-based social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter have served as a force multiplier for this model, as well; the page views of an article or soundbite that goes viral on Twitter are orders of magnitude greater than those that do not. Strongly-worded headlines and stories designed to play to our emotions have always been a tried-and-true practice in media, but one that was generally frowned upon; a mere sideshow to the more measured, Cronkite-style reporting that we had come to expect from serious publications.
On social media, however, hyped-up stories are the main event. Under an impression-based model, a reporter that has worked tirelessly to maintain high journalistic standards simply can’t bring in as much revenue to a publication as their controversial op-ed writer counterparts unless they are willing to spice up their headlines, at the very least. In fact, some articles propagate online on the basis of their headline, alone; we all know someone that hits the ‘share’ or ‘retweet’ button without first reading an article in its entirety (or we may be guilty of this, ourselves). If we depend on social media exclusively for our news diet, we are thus likely to be filled with stories framed in the most emotionally-charged manner. Lastly, adding to the overall noise is the fact that such platforms are also host to the occasional sham publication that mimics the appearance of another, more trustworthy news outlet — the proverbial “fake news” sites that trade in pure misinformation (pro tip: always double-check the URL).
A subscription-based model for monetization offers a massive improvement on this, but subscription-based publications aren’t necessarily exempt from competing in this attention economy, either. A trick employed by some has been to put forth a vaguely sensationalist headline while hiding the far-less-outrageous story behind a paywall—one could say that this is kind of the news equivalent of the “Myspace Angle.” The same strategy is at play here: dangle the carrot of emotionally-charged news to the spectators of the Twitter Thunderdome, competing for the trophy of new subscribers. We may have autonomy, but they have market research and behavioral economics on their side; resistance is futile.
The issue of social media amplification is only half the story when it comes to the rising level of partisanship in news, however. These technological developments have occurred at the same time as a profound shift in workplace values, as younger, more politically vocal generations have risen to prominence. As the more extreme voices on both the political right and political left have come to dominate our public discourse, the stakes are perceived to be much higher to the younger set, and the idea of an editor platforming a contrarian argument may be viewed by them as irresponsible at best, and a fireable offense at worst. It would be very surprising for this shift not to have a major effect on newsrooms, in particular, given the significant role media plays in shaping our culture.
Since most people (and corporations) generally try to avoid becoming mired in controversy and workplace turmoil, we would expect such a newsroom environment to result in more homogeneous reporting and op-eds that lean into specific narratives, and observations over the last few years certainly seem to track with this expectation. There has been a mass exodus of contrarian voices from large media publications, as many of them have gone on to launch independent publications of their own. No matter their individual reasons for doing so, this has resulted in a further narrowing of the range of coverage and commentary expressed in any given news outlet.
Just as algorithmic streaming services tend to give subscribers more of what they already like, the model for news delivery has become similarly inverted: instead of receiving a wide range of interpretations for any given story, consumers are now essentially able to select their desired interpretation by following publications that share their exact political leanings. Our relationship with such publications takes on more of a student-mentor role; instead of receiving all the news that’s fit to print, we get all the news that’s fit for us. On the rare occasion that a publication platforms a writer that self-identifies as a member of an opposing political party, it’s usually in service of supporting a prevailing narrative, in a kind of “See? Even [name of unlikely co-signer] agrees with this” manner.
The conflicting narratives of the modern media landscape don’t remain there, of course. Over the last few years, hyperpartisanship has made its way into our professional organizations and bureaucracies. Into our local communities and schools. To our dinner tables. From there, predictable things happen, just as they do in any other highly polarized time. Friendships end. Family members disown one another. Witch hunts and other hallmarks of cancel culture take place. Everyone becomes miserable and stuck in a feedback loop of doom-scrolling and hot takes.
It’s clear that we’ve forgotten how to have healthy disagreements with one another— but how can we, if we can’t even seem to agree on the basic facts of the world we see around us? For a debate or conversation about current events to be productive, it must be built upon the solid ground of a shared reality of some sort; otherwise, it’s worse than a pointless endeavor, it’s a frustrating experience that drives us further apart from one another.
How, then, do we get everyone to see the same movie? And — perhaps more importantly — how can we be sure that we ourselves are getting the most accurate representation of reality? Do we rely on crude tools like censorship to prevent misinformation from polluting our media ecosystem? Do we avoid mainstream media altogether, believing that independent podcasts and Substack newsletters are all we need to stay informed? Do we just sit tight and enjoy the show — a la the Disaster Girl meme —and let media trust continue to plummet, while we twiddle our thumbs, waiting for new, trusted institutions to magically appear? Do we accept that our politics dictate our interpretation of reality, and simply avoid engaging with those whose political views differ from our own?
Personally, I don’t think any of these are very good options. Outright censorship has a way of backfiring spectacularly in the long run; it’s far more preferable to combat misinformation by building and maintaining strong, principled institutions. While independent journalists and alternative media formats often provide a great “market correction” to the conflicts of interest that may exist in corporate-owned press, a single reporter or podcaster on their own can’t reliably be expected to replace the accountability or extensive track records of media houses that have been in business for decades or centuries. Brand new media houses with a renewed emphasis on impartiality will no doubt emerge to fill an increasing market need, but building anything of value takes time. And it hardly needs to be said that the very idea of Americans living in two different, diametrically opposed realities is the opposite of a healthy society.
Although we may be inhabiting a Land of Confusion at the moment, I do think a course-correction will occur in time, as the public begins to place a greater value on the kind of clear, high-quality reporting that has historically enabled us to cut through the noise during turbulent times. The technology that has given everyone the potential to become a mass media channel is still in its infancy, and every new, disruptive technological advancement goes through its growing pains. For now, the best we can do is to continue to accept the uncertainty of our Quantum News Era, while doing our small part to improve upon it. This may be as simple as showing our appreciation for the many excellent reporters and journalists — whether mainstream or independent — that are willing to call balls and strikes, even when it is unpopular to do so. The pursuit of journalistic objectivity requires courage, and we should throw our support behind those that are willing to aspire to such an ideal during a highly polarized time. Similarly, we shouldn’t be afraid to criticize misleading stories or flawed journalism, even when it supports our own convictions. This, however, doesn’t mean we should scream messages of praise and criticism into the toxic void of Twitter; instead, we should engage with these publications and journalists by writing to them directly. A simple email of support goes a long way — as does an honest, good faith critique.
At the same time, we would do well to train ourselves to ignore the deliberately provocative “rage bait” piece, the op-ed that looks like a rant from a Tumblr blog, and pretty much any Twitter headline that starts with the phrase, “Some people are saying…”. That stuff is the junk food of news, and we’ve gorged ourselves on it for far too long. We should also remember that it is completely reasonable to not have an opinion on something that you aren’t fully caught up on, or to prefer to wait until the facts are in before weighing in on the latest current event or controversy. If you find yourself locked in debate with someone that seems to be watching a completely different movie than your own, take a step back and remember that you’re both in the same multiplex. If you can first find a few universal values in common — which is generally not very hard to do — you’ll at least be able to build upon a foundation of goodwill and mutual respect, which will increase the odds of a more productive discussion. Of course, a good faith dialogue is not always possible; when it isn’t, it is far better to simply disengage from the discussion at hand, rather than waste precious time arguing past one another.
The media is not the enemy of the people, and it’s not always the hero that saves the day, either. After all, it is run and staffed by humans, and therefore subject to the same folly as everything else humans attempt to do. However, maintaining a credible, free press will always be vital to the health of our society—and that job includes us, as readers. If we can learn to examine what we read with a critical eye, to take the hysteria-for-profit with a grain of salt, and to make press outlets earn that paywall by supporting high-quality reporting, perhaps we can get through this time with a clearer picture of reality — an objective reality, even — than ever before. Similarly, if we can be patient with our neighbors as they, too, attempt to navigate this confusing hall of mirrors, perhaps we can come away with a more complete — and less contentious — picture of humanity, as well.
Or, failing all that, we could just choose to avoid going down into news spirals altogether, and find any number of ways to better spend our time. Take a spontaneous day trip with the family. Call an old friend to catch up. Go outside and appreciate the beauty and mystery of nature. Try your best to stay informed on the goings on of the world, but understand that much of it lies beyond our control, anyway. Given the choice between the 24 hour news cycle and a 24 hour sanity cycle, the latter should win every time.
-SB
2/13 - I enjoyed hearing all your stories about great neighborhood bars following last week’s piece; some of them were quite moving. A few readers pointed out that these bars — along with cafes, churches, bookstores and parks — exist in our communities as “third places.” If our “first place” is home and our “second place” is our place of work, third places exist as a public spot to relax and socialize, without any obligation to perform our duties as a family member or a member of the workforce. I also learned that there was a very influential book written on this subject: The Great Good Place by Ray Oldenburg.
As for the “Cheers” theme song: I’m choosing to ignore the fact that it was inexplicably licensed for an Applebee’s commercial as of late. I did, however, receive a letter from a reader that summed up the theme song’s legacy with a lyric from another great song about a kind of “third place”: “Return To Pooh Corner” by Kenny Loggins:
“It's hard to explain how a few precious things seem to follow throughout all our lives.”