Harking back to better journalistic times.

I almost never listen to music while running. For me, running is an opportunity to connect with nature — to listen to the birds, the sound of my feet hitting the trail or pavement, and, in general, a chance to relax and reflect on life. The idea of interrupting that with podcasts, music, or other distractions feels like anathema to me.

This is somewhat ironic, considering that for over two decades of commuting into Christchurch from our North Canterbury home, I’ve had a religious habit of listening to Radio New Zealand every morning on my way in and every afternoon on my way home. I’ve been a Radio New Zealand listener my entire life, appreciating the fact that we still have a free media service with consistently high-quality reporting. As a side note, if I were voting for the next president of the world, Kim Hill would definitely be on my ballot.

Recently, though, I’ve been feeling a bit disheartened when listening to my favourite radio station in the mornings. It’s still ad-free, and there’s still some quality journalism, but it seems to have descended into something lesser, likely in an effort to keep people entertained. I hear presenters giggling over trivial news stories of no real consequence. I also notice an increasing amount of syndicated content from CNN, ABC, and CBC — whereas, in the past, almost all of the programming was created by Radio New Zealand’s own journalists. This change, no doubt, reflects budget cuts.

This morning, as I reflected on these changes, feeling a bit grumpy about the state of the world, it occurred to me that Radio New Zealand and similar outlets are just symptoms, not the cause of this shift.

The point hit home for me a little while ago when I was on a long drive with a colleague. He took his car, and for nearly five hours, my ears were subjected to the most inane of radio stations. I’m not sure if it was The Rock, The Breeze, or The Edge, but all I heard was bad music and completely pointless, vapid commentary from the hosts.

Still, it struck me again — I can’t blame the radio stations. They’re just the messengers.

As I listened to Radio New Zealand again this morning, it became clear to me that the shift in content across radio and television is a response to market demands. Once again, we, the people, are making short-term decisions that lead to long-term negative impacts on the world.

We see it everywhere: printed newspapers, now mere shadows of their former selves; radio stations that have lost their depth; and the fact that, while I have a room full of printed books, very few people seem to read anymore. Novels, in particular, seem like a thing of the past.

Perhaps I’m feeling particularly nostalgic after the recent passing of the great Dame Maggie Smith. To me, she epitomized the quality of British theatre and film, but she also symbolized something else — a time when there was a level of intellectual rigour (Harry Potter notwithstanding), a time when there was qualitative differentiation and a time when people were more aware of what was happening in the world.

I realise this is just a plaintive cry in a world that has changed, and will continue to change, permanently. I’ll keep listening to Radio New Zealand, though I’ll cringe inwardly when the giggles begin. But I long for a different world and worry about the one we live in today, where we seem to have willingly invited our brains to turn to mush.

I also worry about a world in which news comes from Facebook, entertainment consists of puerile shock-jock jokes and TikTok memes are considered quality content. It’s enough to make one want to head to the hills sans ear buds.