In a world of such excitement and thrills at the tip of your fingers, with many hedonistic joys waiting to be indulged in, I think many people may find it strange that one of my greatest pleasures is to be found in a news article. In fact, I’m not sure that anything makes my heart sing as much as chasing, then writing up a big scoop, or reading a beautifully written international dispatch in The New York Times. Of course, the power you feel when your finger hovers over the ‘publish’ button, anticipating the release of your scoop into the world and gaining the accolades that come with it is one thing, and a lovely thing at that. But for me the joy of being a news journalist, and indeed of enjoying great journalism, is much more quiet.

“The rational, polite, well-behaved words ... were such a calming contrast ... [to the] untenable situations over which I felt so little control”

For me, the beauty of the news article lies in its simplicity; its reliability. The structure, though it may vary slightly with each story, is comfortingly constant. Never, across the thousands of news articles I’ve written and read, have I ever failed to be reassured by the reliable rhythm of its storytelling. Perhaps, in the chaotic world around us, and perhaps because of the often unbelievable, heartbreaking and nonsensical truths that are contained in such articles, its stable structure and song is an increasingly necessary virtue. Perhaps, it’s the very fact that the news often contains such big ideas that to see the small words in neat, narrow columns makes the world seem somehow less overwhelming, more understandable.

The way I regard news is so contrary to the growing consensus that news is a source of stress and anxiety, a sentiment which, perhaps understandably, I’ve heard echoed time and time again in the last few years. And though I’m certainly not immune from these feelings in other parts of my life, the news has never been this to me. For me, particularly last year, my life was governed by such untenable situations over which I felt so little control, and such strong, visceral emotion, that the rational, polite, well-behaved words written so neatly on a page, whether they came from my own hands or another’s, came as such a refreshingly calming contrast. That to sit down at my laptop and type up a story, or to sit in a café, engulfed by a big broadsheet, I felt a sense of order begin to return to my otherwise frazzled, confused mind.

Of course, anyone who has ever been a part of a news team knows that you can’t speak about news without speaking of the adrenaline it entails: the buzz of breaking news, the addiction you can feel to releasing your discovered truth into the world. And, bearing this in mind, it is no coincidence that I’ve written over a hundred news articles for this very paper. But the meaning and purpose I find in it is no straightforward high. Indeed, I’ve never felt a sense of belonging like that of being part of a news team. Neither, too, have I felt so connected to such a rich history; such a legacy, to, at risk of sounding too pretentious (though I think that ship already sailed) such a storied art form: I can’t pretend that when I flick through the aforementioned New York Times, with its classic font and old-school style, that at least some of the pleasure doesn’t lie in its aesthetic nostalgia.

“To see the small words in neat, narrow columns makes the world seem somehow less overwhelming”

Maybe, too, as I’ve heard others discuss, there is a sense of validation in seeing your name in print, as though you are, after all, somewhat of a credible human. Maybe it does help to appease that snagging feeling of imposter syndrome, allowing you to believe that you have a concrete worth or importance beyond your general flailing around in a nebulous universe. But far beyond the ego, there is something about news that I can never get enough of. Simultaneously so complex yet so simple; so thrilling yet so calming; so big and yet so small. The very fact that I’m speaking about my love for articles within an article itself is indeed very meta. But I think that only seeks to highlight my love for journalism: for my never ending and unfettered affection for a few words on a black and white page.

Note from the writer: I wrote this article a few weeks ago, before the horror of war spread across Ukraine, uprooting the lives of millions, and killing and injuring thousands more.

Of course, I, along with many journalists, love my job, love the news. And this article is about exactly that, in the purest and most well-meaning of ways, and it should be read in such a way. But what the last few weeks have shown us as journalists is that the job is not about us, our agendas, our feelings. It’s about using our privileges to tell the heart-breaking truth in the face of lies, in order to help innocent victims who do not experience the same privileges as us. Who do not currently have the privilege to look at the news and feel calm, but rather feel terror, fear and anxiety.

While the timing of this article may feel insensitive, I think it should serve as a reminder that news serves a much bigger purpose beyond the daily lives of individual journalists, especially at a time of such suffering and misinformation.

That said, I hope my article can still be enjoyed in the way it was originally intended, which I’m sure many people will still find relatable.