I read my hometown newspaper, The New York Times, online. I am happy that the internet permits me to do this, but what prompted this column is noting that this online version of the paper has adopted the ubiquitous “breaking news” announcement of a news item in the electronic media.
To my mind, using that term for an essentially print medium underscores my problem with the word itself — news does not “break.” Waves break, glass breaks when it falls to the floor, the sun can break through the clouds.
But news doesn’t.
It is just reported. I would prefer a less breathless introduction, one that does not elevate what follows beyond its actual importance. A news story is just that, literally, something that is new to us, something that may, or very possibly may not, interest us, but rarely rises to the level of importance that “breaking” suggests. The use of that word destroys proportionality, introducing with equal intensity news about the remarkable recovery of a missing pet or a breach of the international order.
I prefer something calmer, such as, “This just in,” or even an intro specific to the actual content as in “Congress today …,” something that focuses and prepares my mind to receive what follows without getting my pulse racing expecting to hear something important.
As a news junkie, I look back to the previous century when I watched the nightly news, either Huntley and Brinkley or Walter Cronkite. As a point of contrast to today’s breathless “breaking news” intensity, Huntley and Brinkley’s broadcasts, Google reminds me, were framed by Beethoven’s music.
Breathless excitement versus somber seriousness.
I don’t recall if Cronkite’s show had music. But I do remember, especially during the long disruptive agony of the Vietnam War, how he came to be the voice most Americans trusted to deliver impartial and accurate recounting of the day’s events. Years later, as I drove home, I listened on my car radio to the daily updates on the Clinton impeachment, which were not “breaking” — even though the events were of great importance.
Those examples were, of course, extraordinary and arguably we are presently experiencing a period of significant events both internationally with the Israeli/Hamas/Iranian actors threatening to explode ever more violently, to the protests concerning all that on college campuses with an energy not seen since Vietnam, to an upcoming presidential election featuring historical firsts concerning the legal entanglements of the previous holder of that office. These are all circumstances that demand measured and thoughtful responses. And, coming back to my starting point, they are evolving, not breaking, whatever that might mean.
I do dimly recall, one or the other of those ancient newscasters, declaring something like, “Here’s the news.” In all probability it wasn’t “just in,” not just brought to the broadcaster’s attention. Rather, lacking the breathless quality of “breaking,” it prepared our minds to receive and reflect upon what we were about to learn.
And, importantly, freed us to switch the channel. But today’s “breaking” intrusions serve a marketing purpose, insisting that we must stay tuned so we can be exposed to more of the advertising that supports the program. In that respect, what is breaking is the flow of a newscast that is punctuated by those advertisements, which actually shift our attention away from that which has just broken our attention to the news.
To make this final point, news doesn’t usually, if ever, break on the commercial-free PBS newscasts. Some might find that studied, calm neutrality not intense enough in these troubled times.
But I am glad it is available, providing at least one hour when nothing breaks.