Soundbites of Suffering

I have woken up particularly early today.  I think I have had enough sleep and I wanted to see what has been happening in Ukraine.  The news is not good.  As I sat and watched I was reminded of something.  Something I have not seen or felt for 20 years or so.  It reminded me of the attacks on the twin towers.  Innocent people dying as a result of senseless acts.
Another thing struck me.  The soundbites of human suffering.  To me it is like the media is gloating because it has a good story.  A story that will last at least days.  Many angles can be covered.  It is like the story that keeps on giving.
The good thing for reporters is that it is over there and not here.  There is a sense of immunity from what is happening.  Reporters are putting themselves in harm’s way, but it makes for good tv to see them reporting on explosions and hearing them.
It is when reporters are directly affected that the reality of events take on a personal element.  I saw this when Melbourne had an earthquake.  Studio reporters were shown in shaking buildings.  Live.  Straight into my living room.  Responses were very different when lives were directly affected.
It has been this that I have been dwelling on.  It is one thing when it is them and a different matter when it is us.
Right now it seems I can watch what is happening and go and have lunch.  I do not despise that, or believe that I should act differently.  But I do believe I should not kid myself.  From all I have read our turn is coming.
Storms approach from a distance.  At first only a distant thunder is heard.  A look at the BOM shows a storm front and from the direction it is heading it will be here in an hour or so.  It turns out to be that way and when it is overheard shelter is taken and prayers go up.  Then the storm passes and there is relief.  The tv shows those affected, but it was them not me.
I do wonder at the sense of security.  There will be those who explain all away.  Those that state there are perfectly natural reasons for all that is happening.  Those that say if we do this or this the problems will be solved.  To me it is a clutching at straws.  A desire to explain what is happening away attempting to avoid accountability.
Yet the proof of the pudding is in the eating.  The choice is mine.  I can believe lies or the truth.  In the meantime, I can watch as stations cross live to someone in the middle of a conflict, and listen to them as they are given three minutes.  I can then go and have some breakfast.   I know I can always turn the tv on later and get soundbites of suffering.