For just about a month now, international attention has centered overwhelmingly on the attacks of Sept. 11 and the U.S. retaliation against al-Qaeda and the Taliban.
The focus is more than justified, of course. At no other time has so much changed in such a short interval; at no other time has the gravity of world events struck so personally and so profoundly upon the lives of average Americans.
The tragedies of Sept. 11, in fact, may very well go down as the single biggest "news event" in all of modern history. The events leading out of them will closely follow as one of civilization's defining series of moments.
These are developments that will shape our world for generations to come. And the outpouring of coverage and analysis, appropriately, is just what we should expect under such conditions.
But along with the international attention -- along with the jumbo-sized New York Times headlines, the expanded BBC coverage and CNN's videophone dispatches from inside Afghanistan -- another phenomenon is sweeping America. It sounds something like this:
"Are they ever going to switch to something else? I'm sick of this `America: the response' stuff."
"War? Yeah, I know. We're at war. So what -- I'm sick of it already."
"Another special report? I just want to watch Friends!"
In the midst of nonstop news and small-town flag-waving, some people -- on this campus, and around the nation -- are upset that America's newest crisis is interfering with their "normal lives."
They're bothered that their favorite sitcoms are occasionally pre-empted by breaking news. They complain because their professor switched around the syllabus to accommodate some topical discussion. And, perhaps, they grow frustrated when those around them can't help but be moved by the enormity of the unfolding crisis.
You won't find these individuals quoted in any of the major papers. And you certainly won't find them doing personal interviews on your local TV news. Those would be public expressions, after all, and the resentment and frustration they emit it usually vented in far more personal gatherings -- where charges of callousness can easily be brushed aside.
You've probably noticed a few of these people over the last few weeks.
And, at one time or another, you've probably even been one of them yourself.
In all fairness, recent events have made it increasingly difficult to differentiate "important news" from "enormously important news." Those Times headlines grow bigger and bigger every day, and it seems inevitable that the silly "America strikes back" graphics on CNN will one day become fodder for late night comedians.
How can we not grow tired of the hype, anyway, when all of our newspapers -- including this one -- focus their front pages on the same subject; when our baseball games become tribute ceremonies; when one day's events seem even more distant from those of the day before?
It's a cycle of change that this generation has never before experienced. And it's one, quite clearly, that we're having trouble understanding -- and even more trouble appreciating.
War, for all of its tragedy and all of its importance, is a hard topic to swallow primarily because of the way it is presented. And younger Americans, born and raised in the shadow of the Internet, just weren't made to process information like this.
We're used to receiving news updates minute-by-minute on the Internet. But the military allows official information to flow in drips and drabs, and The Philadelphia Inquirer isn't about to open a bureau in Kabul.
We're accustomed to the CNN style of journalism, where news flow is quick, entertaining and designed for those short on attention -- introduction, conclusion, moral, all in 90 seconds. Now, we are dragged through the news gathering process along with correspondents and anchors.
It's not clear why the deluge of news and reaction brings on such strong frustration in some people. Perhaps all those psychologists were right -- maybe watching too much TV really does shorten attention spans. Perhaps the frustration is simply a personal defensive mechanism, one person's way of handling the grief and pressure of the situation. Maybe some people really can't pay attention to news in lifespans of more than a few weeks.
In this case though, it seems apparent though that until we begin to recognize and accept the current crisis for what it is -- that is, the great defining event of our time -- we will never fully be able to comprehend the world that awaits us once this cycle has finally ended.
That means paying attention to the news as it develops, and respecting the gravity of our nation's dilemma and the change it may force upon our everyday lives.
And it means, for better or for worse, accepting the fact that the distinction between "everyday life" and "world events" grows hazier by the day.
Jonathan Margulies is a senior Management concentrator from North Bellmore, N.Y. and editorial page editor of The Daily Pennsylvanian.
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