I’ve never liked the term “news junkie.”The term gets tossed around like a badge of honor, shorthand for someone who’s always in the loop and the know. But, by definition, a junkie isn’t in a healthy relationship with any source of stimulation.
Addiction implies a compulsion that feeds on itself.I think about this often, especially in a world that rewards constant consumption of information.This might sound odd coming from someone who studies the news and advocates news engagement, but I think there is a case to be made for reading the news less, not out of apathy, but out of intention.
It often feels as though we’ve confused information with knowledge itself. The two are not the same. Information is plentiful, cheap, and endlessly replicable.
Knowledge requires time and reflection. It requires receiving information, sitting with it, making sense of it, and ultimately understanding its relevance. In short, knowledge is what happens after information is metabolized.
Without this conversion, information is little more than noise.Confusing information with knowledge is dangerous. We begin to believe that because we have information, we are better prepared to engage the world and develop strong-held opinions.
Simply reading all the headlines or having the news on all day does not equip us to better understand and engage in the world. But knowing everything isn’t useful. Knowing what matters and why it matters is.
Lately, in the onslaught of chaotic news, I’ve been evaluating my own news consumption through the Socratic method. Socrates was less concerned with having all the answers and more interested in asking better questions. We should approach news not as a bottomless pit of facts to be shoveled into our brains but as a starting point for inquiry.
What is this piece of news telling me? How does it connect to what I already understand about the world? What actions, if any, should it inspire? If the information I ingest does not lead me down this path of inquiry, perhaps it’s not serving its purpose.Information that isn’t designed to make us think is likely designed to distract us.Intentional engagement with the news requires resisting the pull of urgency for the sake of urgency.
We let go of the illusion that we need to know everything in real time. Instead, we can choose to know a few things well, to understand them in context, and to appreciate their more profound implications. When we do, we suddenly have actionable information and a starting point for real knowledge.
I’m most certainly not suggesting that we opt out or turn away. I believe deeply in the importance of being informed. But I also believe there is a way to pursue information without becoming consumed.
We need to read better, not more. When we do, something interesting happens. We begin to see patterns and themes.
Events are not just events. They are part of larger systems. We don’t just understand why something happened but why it matters.
Perhaps most importantly, we preserve our sanity, allowing us to act on what we learn instead of disengaging.Something very powerful and revolutionary happens when we choose depth over breadth. We reclaim our agency.
We shift from passive recipients of information to active participants in meaning-making. We transform from news junkies to engaged citizens and from overwhelmed spectators to thoughtful contributors.It’s worth reconsidering how we interact with news as a resource we thoughtfully engage with.
If we step back from the urgency and embrace deliberate consumption, we become better equipped to understand and act upon what truly matters.Associate Professor of Journalism at Fitchburg State University Wafa Unus, Ph.D.
(Courtesy Wafa Unus).
Politics
Behind the Bylines: Less is more, the case for intentional news consumption

I’ve never liked the term “news junkie.” The term gets tossed around like a badge of honor, shorthand for someone who’s always in the loop and the know. But, by definition, a junkie isn’t in a healthy relationship with any source of stimulation. Addiction implies a compulsion that feeds on itself. I think about this [...]