“Oh I saw it online somewhere.”
You’re sitting in your final class of the day. There are no windows in this room—why would there be—but it was light outside when you entered, and by the time you leave it’ll be dark. Like leaving a matinee at the theater, but also the opposite because at least then you saw a real show, hopefully a good one, not the dull murmuring of duller conversation between classmates who pretend to be smarter than they are.
Discussion grows louder. You tune back in. They’re discussing politics and social media, because of course. And then you hear something particularly interesting.
A classmate shares a story of her daily scroll on TikTok. How her feed flips from the new baby seals at the zoo to live footage of a stabbing on the subway—both of which could have been created by AI because who knows anymore.
Another classmate laments, “I just wish there were platforms I could scroll instead where I could know at least some of what I see is true.”
“Yeah,” a third chimes in, “like a place where credible professionals could vet out this footage for me and determine what’s real and what’s not.”
I think at this point you might have audibly guffawed. You raise your hand, then say, “So you mean, like, a newspaper?”
An encounter to a varying degree happened to me last week. Do take into consideration how my anger has warped these events, but the bottom line is that a conversation of a similar degree took place, resulting in a similar anger. It led me to ask myself: why are young audiences so averse to reading or watching the news? Is it ignorance or something deeper? Have we been so far warped by our political parties that we believe all media outlets are “fake news” or biased or liars or muckraking bastards?
A better person would have proposed one of the questions above. Me, I was tired and hungry and smoking out my ears. So when that bear waltzed into the classroom, I rushed to poke it.
I’ve interrogated this group on similar lines before, and that anger still simmered. Weeks ago, I asked directly for the source someone based their argument on. To which they replied: “online.”
We can all fill in those blanks.
Because I can never help myself, and because I’m a generally evil person, I took the conversation in a different direction. I started on more diplomatic terms, telling a story of how I’ve recently broken up with my long-term news provider and am scouring the market for my new partner. I said something about how difficult it can be to find a source you trust in this climate, how there’s no such thing as the truth, and so on.
I landed on the following question: “Where do you all get your news from?”
Radio silence consumed the classroom. One voice began with, “Oh, all over the place.”
Which started a cascade of, “I don’t have a specific source,” “I couldn’t name just one,” “I don’t remember.”
Not to imply that I don’t get my news from TikTok. It’s a habit I’m working to break. Anyone’s bound to get news from the Internet when you spend an average of 60 minutes a day on any social media platform. The difference is whether you watch these videos and accept them as fact, or stop to think critically. Just because something has XYZ amounts of likes or if so-and-so commented doesn’t make it true. And I’m not sure we’re being taught how to make that distinction. This isn’t the fault of our generation—I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault. But we get to a certain age where we can’t blame our negligence on our parents, our teachers, or our professors.
Getting news exclusively from TikTok is a privilege; news only finds you when the algorithm lines up just right. As someone that only recently broke this bubble, I understand that. Current events might not affect you now, but you never know when that will change. A day will come when you’ll need to keep yourself informed for your own safety, or for the safety of a partner or friend. Be ready when it does.
