“Come back in thirty minutes. The world will have moved, and we’ll show you how.”
That used to be the promise.
Not, we’ll tell you what to think.
Not, we’ll tell you who to hate.
Simply:
Come back in thirty minutes. The world will have moved, and we’ll show you how.
I realize now that I wasn’t only watching the news.
I was keeping time.
Headline News repeated every half hour. I knew that if I watched from sports back to sports, thirty minutes had passed. The broadcast became a clock.
More importantly, it became a way of experiencing change.
At nine o’clock this was the story.
At nine-thirty another fact arrived.
At ten a witness had spoken.
By noon the picture had become clearer.
The story itself was interesting because reality was unfolding.
No smoke was necessary.
No manufactured suspense.
The movement of the world was enough.
Somewhere along the way something changed.
Today I often find myself asking a strange question.
Where is the news?
Not because information disappeared.
Because the rooms have become harder to recognize.
Some programs are commentary.
Some are opinion.
Some are conversation.
Some are advocacy.
Some are theatre.
There is nothing wrong with any of those rooms.
Theatre has always used smoke machines.
No one complains because the audience knows where they are.
The smoke is part of the contract.
The audience bought a ticket to be transported.
The machine is almost part of the performance.
Nobody mistakes theatrical smoke for weather.
Journalism made a different promise.
It never promised perfect objectivity.
It promised something quieter.
The world exists independently of us. We will help you see it more clearly.
Weather is complicated enough.
It does not need a smoke machine.
That is why I find myself uncomfortable when journalism begins borrowing from theatre.
Not because emotion is wrong.
Not because stories should be dry.
But because the story itself should carry the attention.
If corruption matters, then explain how it changes institutions.
If a law matters, show me what changed.
If an election matters, show me what moved between yesterday and today.
Trust the movement of reality.
Don’t manufacture movement where reality already provides it.
The story is the change.
Everything else is atmosphere.
Theatre earns atmosphere because atmosphere is the craft.
Journalism earns trust because change is the craft.
One asks us to suspend disbelief.
The other asks us to sharpen perception.
Those are different contracts.
Perhaps that is what I miss most.
Not an old network.
Not an old anchor.
A way of inhabiting time.
“Come back in thirty minutes.”
The world will have moved.
We’ll show you how.
No smoke required.
The change was the story.
WE&P by: EZorrillaMc&Co.
Travel in Life 