Don't worry, be happy (oh, and it's the end of the World)

Given the recent spate of natural disasters, bloody conflicts and prophetic warnings blasting across the headlines, you'd be forgiven for thinking it was the end of the world.

There's this year's record number of tornadoes in the American Mid-West, the recent 2011 Japan earthquake, tsunami and subsequent nuclear power plant meltdown; the Icelandic volcanic eruptions, the floods in Missouri, Louisiana, Manitoba, Quebec, New Brunswick – on and on it goes. And that's just Mother Nature's offering to the mix.

Add to this the recent global economic crisis, the "Arab Spring" revolution in the Middle East, the ongoing Islamic fundamentalist “terrorist” threat -- or the wrapping up of the Oprah show -- and life on this modern planet can seem a bit overwhelming. It doesn't help the situation either that soap box prophets like Harold Camping are cashing in on the public's paranoia by crying wolf (apparently the end of the Earth is now Oct. 21st).

But it's not like the world hasn't seen this before. Every generation thinks they have it worse then the generation before them, and that a dramatic and horrific Apocalyptic ending is just around the bend. That is not to say that it won't happen (the Apocalypse), but we need to get some perspective on things.

I'm sure those who lived through the early part of the 1900's through 1940's felt just as uncertain about the times they were living in. After all they saw everything from the Great Depression, the devastation of The Great War and the resulting 1918 Influenza pandemic (that killed far more people then the war), the rise of Fascism and Communism in Europe (with it's accompanying wars and holocausts) -- through to the ushering in of the nuclear age following the dropping of the atom bomb on Japan.

And I can't imagine there wasn't a family worldwide unaffected by the horrors of that era. In just five years (1941-45), Russia alone lost 13% of its population of 110 million, Europe 78% of its 7.8 million Jews, and Poland just over 16% of its 34 million citizens.

Such huge numbers are nearly impossible to comprehend. In comparison to the plagues of the Dark Ages (when between 30%-60% of Europe's 450 million people were wiped out by the Black Death) or the 1556 Shaanxi earthquake (which killed an estimated 850,000 in one day) -- the travails of our modern times pale in comparison. Perhaps our present day paranoia has more to do with our proximity to such recent disasters brought about by the Information Age.

As with ages past, distance and time played a crucial role in softening the impact of disaster. There were no on-the-scene reporters braving the forest fires or the hurricane winds, nor images and sounds of tornadoes or wars or famines to shock the senses.

Likewise other factors -- like Nationalism, isolationist policies, inherit political or ethnic biases promoted by nation states -- often created an atmosphere of callousness and disregard for the suffering's of those outside their sphere of influence.

Our immediate environment shapes the way we perceive our circumstances. When the weather is nice and sunny, it is hard to imagine another region getting slammed by a snow storm. However thanks to modern media -- with its 24-hour news channels and anywhere accessibility of the Internet – we can't help but absorb news like a sponge. Incidentally we intake, regurgitate and dwell upon the mostly negative material we observe.

Back in my college days I concocted an experiment. For two years I swore off modern media. I didn't watch any TV, listen to commercial radio or browse the Internet (although I didn't give up going to the cinema). Besides the initial boredom, the quiet, and the copious amounts of free time I found myself with-- something in my way of thinking began to change. It was a near instantaneous clearing of the senses, as if a weight had been lifted off me. Perhaps the media disconnect left me more naive regarding what we call “news”, but I still garnished an idea of what was going on from the occasional newspaper or magazine headline.

And I didn't feel in anyway diminished by this experience. If anything, I felt more relaxed, at peace, and more hopeful. What I realized mattered most was what was going on immediately around me -- at that very moment. I'm sure other things (probably bad) were happening elsewhere which probably shouldn't be overlooked, but there were enough needs within my immediate environment to vie for my attention.

The problem with modern media is that it oversaturates. Though I currently partake in my share of news gathering and disseminating, I can't help but think how unnatural it is to absorb so much information. Since the dawn of human civilization, the only concern was the physical here and now. But media has created a new paradigm, one which opens up many worlds and displays them continuously -- whether or not these new worlds have anything even remotely to do with us.

To say that we should ignore what goes on elsewhere would do a disservice to those who empathize with the suffering of others. But I think we also need to be aware that empathy means nothing without action, and in most cases we watch what we watch just to be "informed." And I've got nothing against that. 

But what I think is essential is an understanding that yes, the world has and will always have its share of trouble – so just relax, calm down and do what you can with what you've got.

If not, perhaps it's time to tune out.

Tim Hetherington: Global witness

When British filmmaker and journalist Tim Hetherington was killed by a Libyan army mortar shell outside the city of Misrata on April 20, it brought home to me the indiscriminate nature of war. In all likelihood, the Libyan soldiers dropping the round down the mortar tube were unaware of the journalist's presence in the mix of rebel forces they were targeting.

And he didn't die alone that day. Embedded with Tim was colleague and Getty Image photojournalist Chris Hondros. Chris had taken shrapnel to the head, and died later that day. Their two riddled bodies were unceremoniously loaded aboard a van, driven to a ferry boat, and shipped out of Misrata.

Upon hearing the news, I wondered what would posses someone to willingly place themselves in a situation that runs a high risk of bodily harm or death. Tim's most renowned work was the war documentary Restrepo (nominated for an Oscar) which also saw him embedded with troops in an active combat zone -- this time with a US Army platoon located in an outpost in the Afghanistan mountains.

I suppose the majority of sane individuals would dismiss him as having a death wish, as most would banish the thought of leaving the comfort and safety of home only to witness the horrors of battle. But there is something about the war correspondent that has always intrigued me.

Perhaps it is the carelessness in which they toss themselves into such a macabre venture, or the desire to participate in something few others get to. But more than this, there seems to be an innate need to bear witness to such historic events, to absorb the rawest human emotion, and to connect personally with the sufferings of other people.

I'm not sure what Tim's motives were in Libya. Perhaps it was an ego thing -- an ambition to create a lasting portfolio of notable work -- that propelled him into his work. Maybe it was the adrenaline addiction brought on by combat (so widely claimed by war correspondents) that kept sending him back into harm's way. Whatever the reasoning, his presence on the battlefield -- both in life and in death -- enabled the world to bear witness to the savagery of the Libyan civil war.

The cynic in me wonders if he thought he could get away with it all. Movies and television has left us with a perception that the good guy always lives to fight another day. We identify with the protagonist: though he takes a beating and watches his buddies drop on the beach beside him, he somehow manages to make it through the adventure fairly intact -- if not enriched by the experience. I truly believe we carry this sense of entitlement with us in our daily lives, both individually and collectively.

Nobody thinks they're going to be the poor old schlep that spends two years training for war only to step off the landing craft and onto a land mine. Just look at a community that has been rocked by natural disaster or a mass shooting. “This is supposed to happen to other people" they say. "I never thought this would happen to me.” 

I don't think journalists are the exception to the rule. In all likelihood these people are even more aware of the risks they are taking. However, they are probably falsely reassured by their record of having beaten the odds. Does this mean they should stop doing what that they're doing?

Without such individuals, there would be only the embellished and misconstrued tales from the soldiers themselves. As a society, we have come to expect such invasive coverage of current events. We want to be privy to all the details. It informs our opinions, which in turn leads to the development of our public policy.

I believe that Tim thought he would make it out of Libya alive. Despite the ferocity of the battle that day, I doubt any of the embedded reporters in Tim's little group could imagine they would be on the receiving end of a mortar barrage. I'm sure that in their minds eye they would surely see another Libyan sun set, perhaps enjoy a refreshing shower in a nearby Holiday Inn, then head off to the next adrenaline packed assignment.

And like the local victims of the conflict, I'm sure that none of the journalists who survived the mortar attack of April 20 could leave what they had witnessed behind.

Click here to see photos of Tim's last day.