24 Addict

My name is Andrew and I am addicted to 24. That's 24 as in the television series starring Kiefer Sutherland as Jack Bauer. I don't like that I am addicted to this show. If you've never watched the show, it's hard to explain. It's like one adrenalin rush after another, each moment and episode waiting for the next tense situation to be resolved. Although I resent it, I have to acknowledge that the writers and producers have created an addictive masterpiece – a show that hooks viewers and compels them to keep watching throughout the season because you just have to see how Jack gets out of each situation – each time wondering how he can possibly survive.


I resent my addiction not only because it keeps drawing me back to watch the show. That's bad enough. But the contents of the show alternately stimulate and appal me. 24 glorifies violence not by making it look spectacular, but by making it look commonplace. We have seen so many depictions of torture in various forms, seen so many sadistic people – terrorists and those fighting them – use means and methods that should utterly sicken us, that we have become numb to them. Which in turn means that in order to keep that adrenaline rush flowing in the viewers, the producers have to keep raising the level of violence. The first season was brilliant, with events building to a single traumatic climax in which all the various threads were resolved, with one new provocation left dangling as a lead to a second season (a lead which, in the end, the producers made nothing of although they did go on to make several more seasons.) Since then we've seen nuclear bombs detonated first in the desert, later in Los Angeles itself. As we started the latest season my wife and I joked that we should keep a body count. We didn't and I'm not sure we could have, given how many people are killed in an average episode. As I said earlier though, it's not just that people are killed, it's the way in which they are killed. Oh for the old days of the original A Team, when people were blown across the screen routinely yet there was precious little blood or actual dying portrayed. With 24 we get graphic displays of pain, suffering and death.


The frequency and graphic nature of the killing in the show is bad enough. The depiction of torture is worse. Introduced in the second season, it has become a common aspect of the show's storyline. Although not a part of every episode, it does seem to come up in every season. I'd like to think that the writers want to open the eyes of viewers to the extent to which torture is used not only by terrorists but by those we consider “the good guys.” If that were their goal, I might feel more at ease about it. I'd like to see a more vocal protest against the way in which our government, particularly under the previous administration, adopted torture as an acceptable form of investigation. Unfortunately I don't really sense that the writers of 24 really include torture as an awareness-raising device. The frequent depiction of it serves more to numb the viewer to what is happening. The more I watch, the more desensitized I become. I have some friends who stopped watching the show over this issue (and perhaps others). I admire and applaud them. Unfortunately I am an addict and can't seem to break the hold this drug has on me.


One final aspect of the show greatly troubles me. In every season we always find one or more corrupt people on the inside. This could just be a useful plot element, but with each season I find myself increasingly angry over the people who put self-interest over the welfare of society. Worse still are those who believe they are putting society's best interests first by perpetrating crimes and murders. I suppose this type of thing occurs in many television series. I never watched West Wing, but I can imagine that you found similar plot occurrences there. But in 24 these acts of self-interest or false national interest result in significant tragedies and losses of life and I find it heart-wrenching to watch it unfold. Being a “good” series, in the end the “bad” guys always end up getting something resembling a just reward, but the journey to that point twists me up inside.


As I said, I'm an addict. I want to turn it off, but I keep watching. Since we're still catching up with past seasons on Netflix, some nights we can watch a couple episodes back-to-back. But I don't go to bed feeling a healthy catharsis. I go to bed feeling troubled by what I've seen without any idea or sense that I can do anything about it. It's like I've been mainlining adrenaline for an hour or two and gotten an emotional rush, but in the end it has left me empty, unsettled and dissatisfied. So why do I keep watching?


I know many who really enjoy this show and I'd love to hear any thoughts on redeeming aspects of it, if there are any. As for those who have wisely chosen to cut off their addiction, I'd like to hear what aspect(s) of the show prompted you to make the break.

A Small, Helpful Change

A couple of weeks ago I made a change in the way I handle my e-mail. Previously I had my e-mail program set to automatically check for and send messages every 10-15 minutes. While working on something at the computer, I would see that a message would come in and, more often than not, out of curiosity I would go read it. This often led to my focus shifting from the previous task to something new. Also, because I knew that messages could come in at any time, I often stopped to check even when I was not working at my computer but engaged in something else.

For various reasons I disabled the automatic send and receive feature in the program. Now if I want to send my messages or check for new ones, I have to consciously choose to do so. I didn't actually make this change primarily for this purpose, but I have found that it has helped me focus on my work better. No longer am I distracted by incoming messages, nor do I stop and check my inbox regularly to see if something new has arrived. I perform a send/receive two or three times a day, read through what comes in and decide how to handle the new messages. Sometimes a message will force me to change my focus and deal with something urgent, but more often than not after reading my messages I can return to whatever I was previously engaged in. My interaction with my e-mail has become more focused which has in turn helped me focus better on other tasks.

This seems like a very small and sensible change. Probably most people already work this way. Since I work at home and my personal and work e-mail is the same, I find it more difficult to separate work and personal life. This small step has helped me implement a better routine. I don't feel so distracted by the false urgency of my inbox. I am better able to choose where I want to focus my attention and manage my time more effectively. So I you write to me, don't expect an immediate response!

Absorbed by Facebook

During the Lenten season this year one of my friends chose to "fast" from Facebook, Twitter and other such forms of communication. Since that time he has resumed using them, but I've noticed that he is very moderate, even infrequent, in posting updates. When I heard that he had done this I was both surprised and pleased. I was surprised because it had never occurred to me to pursue such a fast. I was pleased because I could see quite well the benefit of it.


I joined Facebook about a year ago. I signed up initially because I wanted to keep in touch with a friend of mine who works in Africa. Over time my list of friends grew. I reconnected with many old friends, including several that I had not seen or heard from in twenty years. I was also bombarded with friendship requests from people I barely remembered. More than once I had to pull out my high school yearbook to prompt my memory. On the whole I have come to value this aspect of Facebook and other social networking tools. It can be a good way to keep in touch with friends, especially those who do not live close by. It provides a forum for sharing a small portion of my life. At the same time, it is not a tool for maintaining in-depth relationships. I don't share my deepest thoughts and feelings on Facebook because they are not something I want all of my contacts to know. (Yes, there is the option of writing things to individuals, but that option existed earlier--it's called e-mail.) In fact, I'm appaled at times by the things people feel the need to share about themselves. One of the downsides of sites like Facebook is that they seem to contribute to the blurring of the personal and the non-personal spheres of life.


I don't have a problem with controlling my urge to reveal personal secrets or details about my life that really don't belong in the public domain. (Do you all really want to know when I'm running to the store?) I have, however, found that Facebook will absorb as much of my time as I choose to give it. There are fun games and activities. There are new pictures to see and links to explore. It can become an obsession. I don't think I have reached that point, yet. But I realized recently that I need to control my time, especially time spent playing games. I am not condemning them or those who play them. They can be a fun pastime. But they can also divert my attention from things that are far more meaningful and beneficial, like spending time in the Word or interacting with my family or friends in real time. I think of Paul's words to the Corinthians: "'Everything is permissible for me'--but not everything is beneficial."


So while I appreciate the benefits of Facebook and will continue to use it, I want to be more disciplined in the manner in which I do so. I will even continue to play games until we move and my internet connection makes that unfeasible. But I want to do so more moderately. I want Facebook to foster relationship, not be an escape from it. I may even fast from it altogether next spring.