Politics and the media

Since I started this blog around six months ago, I have continuously touched on points about the impact of the media on us and everyday life as a whole. And even now, I strongly believe the subtle influences that journalism has on our society represent a failing in their field of work. Previously, I related these inaccuracies to the political spectrum and foreign affairs that have a profound worldwide effect on millions. This time, I wish to make it more general, and through touching on the nuances that shape the career that is a long-term goal of mine, it is easier to explain how journalism is in a dark place in the modern age. The demands of reporters, editors, broadcasters and the many other forms of journalistic employment are tough, take nothing for granted. The single greatest need in the industry is speed. For most, this is more important than accuracy. But here lies a major issue with news, or should I perhaps say, ‘fake news’? Say you’re the reporter that breaks t

Syria. What an unparalleled mess. Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past few weeks, you will be aware of the air strikes that the US, UK and France have carried out on the war-torn country in response to President Bashar Al-Assad’s supposed use of chemical weapons on his own people. The reaction to these has been divided; many people support, many condemn. I have been very critical of the Western world as a whole previously, and I plan to do so again. It is not simply the attacks that I find staggering, it is the complete attitude we have to the area. There seems to be an abhorrent idea that, due to the fact we are the powerhouses of the world, we can magically act as ‘the world’s police’ and stop what we brand as ‘evil’ happening in the world. Except it isn’t because of evil that we intervene is it? If that were the case, we would have attacked Syria with this sort of air strike  more than 100 times and this would not be news now. You can’t just pick and choo

It is never a bad thing to ask for help, contrary to what the mind, or even society, might say. Unfortunately for me, whilst sat there in floods of tears at my kitchen table, the whole tissue box I had emptied littered on the floor, I didn’t realise it. It was a Wednesday evening in late January, I had just gone through a day of school feeling perfectly content – bar the worries many teenagers find themselves under. I recall feeling focused in the three lessons I had that day, and playing football in the afternoon, I imagined, would only help my mood. After all, they do say exercise helps balance the chemicals in your brain. But I got home, sat down and genuinely considered suicide. What possibly is there left here for me? How is it ever going to feel like life is worth living? The weeks of building anxiety and depression had taken their toll. School stress, A-levels closing in. Social stress (ever-increasing in an age where social media has become habitual). Coupled with en