Reporting on tragedies

Last week I saw on Ted a moving Short lecture. A woman slightly younger than me told me how, as a 22-year-old young psychologist in her first job straight out of university, she fell in love with her married boss who held an influential position and started an affair with him. She told a supposed girlfriend about it on the phone. She secretly recorded the conversations and leaked them to the press. A media hounding began. People insulted her on the street, employers didn't want to hire her because they feared for her good reputation, the phone recordings ended up on the internet, where anyone can listen to them to this day. Her life was ruined.

The name of her boss: Bill Clinton. Her name: Monica Lewinsky. Monica spoke in the Lecture She said that she regrets the whole affair back then - but also asked: "Who didn't make mistakes at 22 that they later regret?" However, she heavily criticised how the media is dragging more and more private matters into the public eye for the sake of profit. And how we all support this. Every click on a page that makes private matters public means money. More advertising revenue. More cash.

She called for abstinence. Not to consume such messages. And she called for encouragement. To speak words of honour, appreciation and love in places where people are being bullied online.

The day after I heard her talk, 150 people died in a plane crash in the Alps. It's the fate of other people that I don't need to know the details about. I decided to want to know as little as possible about it, to avoid the sensationalism. It's not easy with the media overload, where everyone gives their opinion about the pilot, his motives, conspiracy theories, opinions and official statements - regardless of whether he really has anything substantial to say or not. Where even in doctors' surgeries the reporting runs in endless loops. But I don't want to keep the sensationalist machine running with my clicks.

The day after, a completely different tragedy. A close friend of mine, Matthias Beyer, developed an aneyrisma (an enlargement of the aorta) and had to undergo emergency surgery. We were also informed about this tragedy. But in a completely different way. Not out of sensationalism, but to inform the people who cared about Matthias. It was so good to be able to read how he was doing every few hours, even though he was so far away.

And it helped to do together what one can do in such a tragedy: Pray, stand up, give. Hundreds of people joined in the prayer. One Relief fund was set up for the family to cover hospital costs and loss of earnings - so far, almost 200 people have contributed to at least provide practical help - real solidarity.

When the worst news of all came yesterday - that his brain functions had stopped - it was also sensitive: "We have reached the limits of what is possible for humans. Matthias' brain is no longer functioning. ... We have waited with this post until we have informed the family..."

I can only cry... and hope - against all humanly conceivable odds - that this is not the last word. In the certainty of being on the other side of the Atlantic when a very precious person is fighting for their life, it has comforted and strengthened me to be well and sensitively, realistically and at the same time hopefully informed.

Sensitive, sensitive reporting, with the aim of bearing suffering and helping each other - that's how it works.