TORONTO -- It was 1:36 a.m. on a Tuesday, about two weeks after COVID-19 was declared a pandemic, when Canadian journalist Karen Ho asked her Twitter followers to try putting down their phones.
鈥淵ou can always keep doomscrolling tomorrow,鈥� a global finance and economics reporter for Quartz.
By doomscrolling, Ho was referring to the act of reading the seemingly endless stream of upsetting news headlines that emerge on social media in times of distress. She鈥檇 seen the term used before, but she hadn鈥檛 seen it applied to the pandemic.
鈥淚t doesn鈥檛 require a lot of explanation, most people understand exactly what it means,鈥� Ho told CTVNews.ca in a phone interview on Wednesday. 鈥淎s soon as I saw it, it was full recognition of something I do and I鈥檝e been struggling for a couple years with how to manage it.鈥�
Since her first tweet, Ho has made a habit of encouraging her Twitter followers to stop doomscrolling on a nightly basis, usually after 10:30 p.m. Gradually, the term has grown in popular use, making its way into media reports and everyday lexicon as people grapple for ways to describe their obsessive online behaviour during the pandemic.
as one of the words it is 鈥渨atching鈥� but hasn鈥檛 yet met its criteria for entry into the dictionary. The word has also appeared in stories in Business Insider, and its close cousin, 鈥渄oomsurfing,鈥� appeared in the New York Times.
The irresistible draw of doomscrolling, Ho said, comes from a 鈥渉urry-up-and-wait鈥� instinct to seek out information on the pandemic, even if that information is scarce or incomplete.
鈥淓verybody is hungry for any kind of information to feel less uncertain and less chaotic right now,鈥� she said.
That hunger for information in times of crisis is hardwired into our biology, according to Mary McNaughton-Cassill, a psychology professor at the University of Texas at San Antonio.
鈥淲e are hyper-vigilant for challenges or threats that evolved when the world was pretty simple and the only thing you had to check was right around you,鈥� McNaughton-Cassill told 麻豆影视 Channel in an interview on Thursday.
鈥淥ut on the savannah, if you found signs of something that was dangerous, you wanted to notice it, remember it and avoid it in the future. And that kind of tendency is still working.鈥�
With COVID-19, a big part of the problem is that the news is covering a rolling disaster rather than a one-off event. Unlike a hurricane or an act of terrorism, the pandemic has no borders and can feel inescapable at times.
鈥淭he problem with the news is also that oftentimes we are seeing really bad things that are happening, but there is no way for us as individuals to make a difference. And that鈥檚 very different than the history of humans,鈥� McNaughton-Cassill said.
鈥淚t has to do with technology and the media, because there has always been pandemics and riots and disasters, but you only knew about the ones that were in your purview where you might actually be able to do something to respond.鈥�
As protests emerged in the aftermath of George Floyd鈥檚 death at the hands of police and news coverage shifted away from the pandemic, Ho considered stopping her nightly doomscrolling reminders. But then she heard from followers who said they鈥檇 come to rely on her.
鈥淚 got a lot of feedback that it was helping some people on a nightly basis to stop scrolling,鈥� she said.
For those who struggle with the onslaught of bad news 鈥� and the journalists who cover that bad news 鈥� Ho said it鈥檚 important to set boundaries and, when you need to, take time to log off.
鈥淚 always say, 鈥楽ometimes it鈥檚 OK to take a break and get some rest.鈥欌��
