Recently, I watched a video about anesthesia and learned about a condition called anesthesia awareness. This is a phenomenon when a patient, seemingly unconscious during surgery, may hear conversations or feel sensations while being unable to move or communicate. It’s rare, occurring in one or two out of every 1,000 cases, according to the Cleveland Clinic. Regardless of its rarity, thinking about that complication sparked a visceral reaction for me. It sounds terrifying: being able to hear what’s going on but not respond; to feel, but not react; to be aware but unable to move or communicate. Thinking about that rare condition led me to reflect on how sometimes we might experience something similar: being awake, conscious of the things in our society that are unfair or unjust, but feel unable to respond.
Last month, the White House barred CNN, MS NOW and Politico from its grounds and confiscated their press credentials after criticizing their coverage as fake, but providing no evidence for false reporting. The move was met with legal challenges. Other major networks paused their participation in the White House video pool in solidarity. As it first unfolded, I wondered how much further we have before freedom of the press is eroded. Then, the question: What can we do?
The collective decision by other media outlets was refreshing to see because even though it didn't change the president’s sentiment, there was still something about seeing people use what they had to push back against what was happening. Trump’s verbal abuse of journalists is well-documented, but I can’t recall a similar coordinated effort. What was it about this action that spurred collective action on the part of the press pool in the White House? I don’t know what was different this time, but I was encouraged that instead of looking out for their own interests, they rallied to confront that slight.
Reading about journalists being denied this access makes me think about the relationship between awareness and power. Reporters know what they are trying to investigate or uncover, but restricted access limits their ability to question, verify and communicate with the public. You can feel helpless, like being conscious but unable to communicate or act. Being bullied or banned from questioning those in power, and operating in a climate where you’re being labeled fake while actively trying to rise above misinformation, can be similarly frustrating.
Awareness can become distressing when it does not lead to control of the situation. It can feel a lot like screaming into the void. It may explain why our individual actions may feel fruitless or too small. But it’s also why it's worth doing something anyway: Whether it’s holding a protest. Forming watchdog groups. Speaking up in meetings. Not ignoring the disturbing comment in a group chat. Fact-checking or challenging falsehoods in real time. Something, anything, to say “I see this,” “I feel this.” What stood out to me about the press ban is that despite the administration’s relentless undermining of the work of the media, these outlets rallied to do what they could with what they had.
I’ve never experienced anesthesia awareness (and kind of wish I didn’t know that was a thing), but I can appreciate how it’s helping me understand what awareness means. Learning about it has challenged what I’ve been taught about awareness: If you know what is happening, you can respond to it. But sometimes it seems that knowledge can also create helplessness, especially when being inundated with content. We can curate what we see and learn, but this can have a downside. Constantly seeing troubling news can make us feel both hyperaware of ALL that’s happening and numb. We’re overwhelmed but also conditioned to keep scrolling past that latest fight video, missing person post or sobering headline. But becoming numb to what is happening is a guaranteed surrender to the worst.
Some long-term effects of anesthesia awareness include anxiety, depression or post-traumatic stress disorder. Some people may experience long-lasting feelings of helplessness and avoid medical appointments going forward.
While I’m not saying this syndrome is equivalent, I can’t help but think we might be facing similar emotions of avoidance and anxiety as we navigate the current social and political climate, and might feel helpless to change it.
Ultimately, we may not be able to control certain situations. But sometimes there’s power in just acknowledging we see what’s going on and are willing to speak up, even if that’s all we get to do. And you don’t have to be a journalist to do it.
The Student Movement is the official student newspaper of Andrews University. Opinions expressed in the Student Movement are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the editors, Andrews University or the Seventh-day Adventist church.