Content that has depth and complexity is like a person. We have to study it, and delay passing judgment until we’ve done our best to understand the subject. Sometimes, like a cheating lover, the devil is found in the details.
Take the recent investigative ‘content’ concerning our nation-wide obesity problem. The Times and NPR reporters have produced in-depth reports on how the fast-food industry has devoted decades of scientific research to getting us addicted to processed foods with just the perfect “bliss point” of fat, salt, and sugar. Like the cigarette companies before them, they buried smoking-gun memos that exposed their intention to create widespread addictions. One snack food, they crowed triumphantly, successfully canceled out consumers’ ability to feel they’d eaten anything of caloric value! We could eat this sugar-salt-fat delivery system forever, our bodies tricked into not signaling when to stop.
On a personal level, we know the kind of effort it takes to understand opposing views, say, among two friends or close relatives. How much listening, weighing of another person’s life history, struggles, family influences, successes and failures, loves, losses and (most stubbornly concealed) sources of shame. Try as we might, we can miss the real reasons behind seemingly irreconcilable differences. But because we care about these individuals, we keep trying–observing, storing information, pondering. One could call this reflective attention. Some mysteries do seem to open up in time.
Because of the recent revelations about how food industry giants have done their utmost to get us to eat more often and in larger more fattening proportions, I recently gained insight on a long-ago disconnect with a former friend. The last time I’d socialized with her was years ago in the late afternoon, at her place, when her daughter came home from middle school saying she was hungry. My friend offered the already overweight girl a large box of cookies, and returned to our conversation. Her daughter stayed with us, and I must have shown concern–never mentioning it, of course–that the child was eating her way through the entire box–at least 20 cookies–and her mother was not even reminding her that they’d be having supper soon.
After that my friend became distant. She and her husband were both seriously obese, and might not have been able to teach their daughter to restrain from overeating when they couldn’t control their own food addiction. From studying alcoholism, which runs in my family, I learned that addiction changes our brain chemistry. When addicted, our brains still know the right thing to do, but the chemical switch that enables us to take action, or to stop ourselves, gets turned off. And because our mind knows it’s right and can’t make us do it (without a lot of help and moral support, such as 12-step programs), guilt and shame result.
It wasn’t that my friend stopped liking me, it was that she didn’t want to feel guilty when I noticed her not dealing with her family’s obesity problem.
The obesity epidemic, thanks to the scrutiny (a first-rate version of attention) of content providers, now has a fighting chance of moving toward a cure. So – three cheers for real content and the journalists that provide it, and three more for the attention we hope it gets!